#these were taken in harsh white parking lot lights after dark

[lloonlloon]

We went to a drive in movie last night and it was so much fun! I never realized what I was missing going to movie theaters without my dogs.

#here is my feeble attempt to produce photos i like #these were taken in harsh white parking lot lights after dark #but i managed a passable sunset glow! #i think theyre really pretty and have a reminiscent tone #which is what i was going for! #it was so hard taking any pics because Essie was Too Busy #crawling all over everyone for pets and trying to steal popcorn and candy #she knocked over the popcorn bowl TWICE #my dogs #estrella #little red #australian shepherd

[writefightandflightclub]

End of the line (Santiago Garcia x GN! reader)

@autumnleaves1991-blog​ runs a fantasic # Writer Wednesday, and this week’s photo prompt sparked a lil idea! Of course I’m a day late, please forgive. The prompt is the photo below, and my response is a rather angsty Triple Frontier one-shot. This is different to my usual takes, so I’m so grateful for the prompt!

Summary: you are reaching the end of the line, and there’s only one person you want to pick up the phone to.

Word count: 2.4k, somehow

Rating: mature for themes of violence (18+ only)

Warnings: theme of reader being pursued / targeted; ongoing mentions of guns / gun violence (not graphic); reader injuries (not graphic); themes of character death; angst; vague mentions of past wrongdoing / implied illicit activities; theme of former lovers.

You run your fingers over your scathed knuckles and the bruises on your hands, flexing and opening your fingers and trying to work out niggles in your wrist that you doubt will ever truly leave you. You wince as the motion tugs on a spot which is particularly stiff, and a pain zips all the way up your forearm.

Your only consolation is that the other guy fared far worse.

Undoing all your attempts to unknot your taut muscles, your fists clench again as you hear the door to the dingy motel bar swing open to your right. Your head whips towards the newly-arrived patron and you tense, your hand twitching against the weapon concealed in your jacket. As it becomes clear the new arrival is an old, inebriated local and not a threat, you relax a shade; though not all the way.

You barely remember the last time you fully relaxed. You wish you could shake this state of hyper-vigilance. Eyes constantly sweeping the perimeter. Clocking every open-carry tucked into a belt, scoping every exit route, monitoring every micro-gesture and expression. But one slip now and it will cost you.

You bounce your leg under the table, filled with an onslaught of sadness that you can’t even enjoy a cup of coffee without the looming fear of retribution. Still, you are safe enough here for now, you assess. For at least one more night. At least, you hope. Certainty is a thing long-dead, just like your old life.

Your eyes flick out through the scummy window, reaching across the lot to the stretch of motel illuminated to your left. Not that there’s much to look at out there -snow and vehicles and the shitty exterior- but you are not looking at those things, after all. Your study is far more careful. You’ve been sat here long enough though to be sure that no-one is casing your room. No suspicious vehicles or individuals; at least - there are plenty of suspicious individuals, but none whom seem to have followed you here.

So, you allow yourself to shed one layer of worry, and you give your gaze permission to wander back to the only other thing you can see out there. The ominous looking phone box, stood directly in the path between your table and the window to your motel room. It glows in the dark like an illuminated angel, though you are not sure whether this signals it is a guardian or a traitor. Angels can be fickle things too.

Either way, the booth taunts you, like some dark harbinger or sentinel from a horror film, and, each time your eyes flick back to it, it seems to loom more prominent - even if that’s only because of the single, related thought which swells to the forefront of your mind.

Call him. It’s time to call him.

You promised yourself you would only call him as a last resort. If you had no other options remaining. If you were at the end of the line.

A nausea rolls in the pit of you when you realise that might be true. After so long on the run, you’ve called in every favour you were owed, exploited every scrap of intel you could, manipulated or paid-off every asset you could find to help you... And now there is no-one else left. No-one else left who owes you a favour. There is only the man who had once promised you he would always have your six. There is only the last person you want to ask for help, and the first person you want to see.

Santiago Garcia.

Your nausea turns to aching despair, and you wrap your hands around your cup of shitty coffee, reaching for some vestige of warmth, however faint. And yet, like everything else, it offers you little comfort. Indeed, you have lived without comfort for so long that you tell yourself you don’t need it, but as soon as memories of him flood you, you ache for the distant comfort of his arms.

Arms which will never encircle you again, you’re sure. Not since you’d been forced to compromise every ideal you’d once shared with the solider. Still, that was back in the days when things seemed a lot more black and white. When you still believed in good people and untarnished souls. When he still believed in you.

Your eyes flick once again to the boxy, mocking angel in the parking lot. Now you are sure it is fallen, and that it has come to drag you to hell.

Still, hell would be a relief, you think, compared to this. Compared to this vestige of a life.

Call him. It’s the end of the line.

You bounce your leg more furiously, your muscles tensing so hard they cramp as you think about the prospect. You used to carry his number on a little slip of paper in your top pocket. You’d long since memorised it, but it was the last thing he gave you - you suppose that’s why you couldn’t throw it away. Why you subconsciously kept it close to your heart.

If you ever needed him, he would be there. You knew it. Maybe you should have called him long ago, when things first went south. When you first pissed off the kinda man it wasn’t desirable to piss off. Maybe you would have, but then one thing after another kept happening, and the slow descent into hell began, one compromise and one mistake at a time. So, you called in every other favour rather than face him. Rather than having to explain how you’d let him down - become someone he could no longer believe in. Like a fallen angel.

Now, years had gone by.

Years on the run. Years of hyper-vigilance. Years that had taken their toll.

Now, you’re out of options. Out of money. Out of favours. You’re even out of burner phones until you can hitch a lift to the next town over.

So, the glowing phone box almost sings to you, as if it’s a siren luring you on to the rocks. As if it’s a magical item in a computer game and if you step into its circle of light you can have a new life. You can reset everything. Return to a prior save point.

You know exactly where you would go, if you could. Back to the last time your remember where you didn’t feel so alone. The last time you felt comfort.

You fumble some over-spilling tears from your cheeks and stand, pushing the chair back across the floor behind you with a harsh scrape. Then, with a soft smile to the barkeep you return your mug to the bar-top, to save her from having to clear up. You wonder then. You can’t help but wonder like you do every time. If she’ll be the last person to see you alive will she at least say, to who ever shows up looking, that you seemed kind?

She gives you a small smile and you hang on to this vestige of warmth too, wishing you could pocket it for later for when you inevitably feel so empty and so cold. If only you could have stored up warmth, you would have more than enough to thaw you. There was a time when you had an abundance, after all. Enough to carry you through the longest of winters. 

Your face drops as you tread out, winding your scarf around your neck and your boots puncturing the fresh, powdery snow.

Would anyone who mattered even show up looking? you ponder. Is there anyone left who would remember all the things you were before all this? Before you were a cold, lost thing?

There may be one person left.

Your eyes patrol the lot around you, an automatic sweep for threats, and, seeing nothing of note, you track determinedly towards the phone box, tears near-freezing on your cheeks.

You pick up the receiver and you punch in that number you have memorised, your eyes closing and your other hand bracing itself against the scratched and cigarette-burn puckered surface. You don’t even know if it will ring, or if he will still be at this address, but you do know that your knees will buckle either way. With relief if he does, and hopelessness if he doesn’t.

The line clacks as the number connects, and you grip the receiver hard enough that a day-old wound on your knuckle splits, but you can scarce care. Instead you simply hold your breath as the phone rings once, twice, three times...

Your stomach lurches as the ringing stops.

“Santiago? Santiago Garcia?” you ask, hoarsely, tugging on the coiled phone wire so hard as you wind it around your fingers that you are close to breaking it.

“This is Mrs. Garcia. Can I help you?” a woman’s voice responds.

You want to dry heave. Your heart drops to your stomach.

“You’re his wife?” you ask, the question like a poison barb on your tongue.

“Yes, who’s speaking, please? Can I take a message?”

All this time, you had been the only one alone, it seems. You should be glad for him, but you are too sad for yourself to muster it.

You hesitate. You can’t say who’s calling. You can’t risk it. However, while he may not be at the end of the line, you are. This might be the last chance you get to say your piece.

You have to think on your feet, but that’s become second-nature for you. You haven’t enjoyed the luxury of plans or hopes or dreams for some time now.

You begin. Your voice is choked up.

“Just tell him... Tell him to remember me the way I was in Massachusetts. Tell him I’ve never been happier than then. Tell him not to worry. I won’t cash in that favour, but he’s already done enough.”

He has. He’s given you the strength to make it this far, even if he didn’t know it.

“Who is this?” his wife presses, her tone sharp.

You can’t say, but he’ll know. He’ll know - if he remembers you. Your eyes mist over with tears, and your chest tightens, emotion stealing the air from your lungs.

“Can you just tell him that? Please?” you beg, having been strong for so long and finally collapsing in on yourself, a desperate plea imbuing your voice.

Still, you don’t even wait for an answer before slamming the phone back down on its hook -can’t bear to hear her say no. Instead you surge towards your hotel room, sobs wracking your chest as you realise the cold hard facts. Now, you are truly on the run without any semblance of home to return to, even if you could ever stop. He did not wait for you.

So, you cry, even as you peel off your clothes from your pained body, leaning into the stream of luke-warm water in the motel shower. Water which may rinse the blood and grime from the surface of your skin but has no hope of washing the blood from your hands, or wiping the red from your ledger.

Nothing ever could.

Then, you lie alone in bed, your sleeping bag and liner protecting you from the motel bed covers, at least. You stare up blankly at the ceiling, and, as you often do, you try to pinpoint where it all went wrong. You try to rewrite history. You try to imagine all the ways in which things could have worked out.

As always, with certainty, you can say exactly when and where it all went to shit. And, as always, you wish that you could take it back.

You loll your head against the pillow, watching shadows dance through your curtains as snow falls past the glow of that ugly, beautiful phone box. It was a guardian after all, you think, if Santi got to know that you still think of him. That even now you can’t let him go. 

Always. Until the end.

Then, your whole body jolts in shock as the phone begins to ring - a loud, shrill insistent noise sounding out into the night, setting off a dog barking across the way, and a baby crying through the paper thin walls to your left.

It couldn’t be? Could it? It couldn’t be for you?

Still, you have to know, and so, you scramble into your snow boots and dash into the brisk night, grappling to lift the phone from its receiver before it rings out, your breath a white cloud of exertion before you.

And, at the same time that you connect to the caller, you spot the second harbinger. You see the shadowed figure there, approaching you from across the lot. You see the outline of a gun in their hand, and their trench billowing around their shins as they maintain a steady pace towards you.

You have nowhere left to run. This is the end of the line. You know it in the depths of you.

So, you simply flatten your back to the phone box, facing your assailant.

You simply close your eyes, willing everything else to disappear as an unmistakeably familiar voice filters through the speaker into your ear. You grip the receiver tightly with both hands.

Santiago Garcia says your name. Your real name. Not one of many aliases you’ve had to assume, painting lies over your existence. He says your real name -one you haven’t heard spoken in so long- and your bottom lip begins to tremble. “Honey, is that you?”

You smile, tears of joy cascading down your face as his simple words stoke more warmth than you have felt in so long. Even as the cold bites at your skin. Even as you hear the continued crunch of footsteps in the snow. Even as you hear a gun cock, mere feet from your body.

Hearing his voice, you think your knees may buckle in relief regardless.

“Hey, old friend,” you say fondly, through an inexplicable, watery smile. And, despite the situation, you feel happy, for the first time in a long while. Bizarre as it is, you are finally able to relax all the way.

Will he remember me as kind, at least?

You grip the phone even more tightly as Santi’s voice surges, coming at you with a million urgent questions. You let them flow through you, and then they are gone, just as easily. You know you will not be afforded the chance to answer even one. So, you say something else instead.

“Remember me, okay?” you breathe. “Remember how I loved you. And I did, Santiago. Right until the end of the line.”

You hope that he will. You can only hope that when the stories and lies and secrets and compromises come out, that he will remember you the way you were in Massachusetts. Before things started to unravel. Before you went on the run.

And, as your eyes screw themelsleves tightly shut, and you brace yourself for what is inevitably coming, you don’t think of him as he is now. Someone distant. Someone who doesn’t belong to you. Someone at the end of the line. You don’t think of yourself that way either.

You remember him the way he was in Massachusetts.

You hope dearly, that he will think of you that way too.

You finally feel warm.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #angst #writer wednesday #santiago pope garcia

[myrandomfandomramblings]

The Beach - a The Rookie/Chenford Fanfic

“7-Adam-11, show us responding,” Jackson said over the radio as Lucy leaned back against her headrest defeatedly.

“I didn’t think I’d ever say this but I really don’t want to go to the beach.” “Like ever again,” she added even as she took the first turn towards their destination. 

LA was 4 days into a record heat wave and over that time Lucy had learnt a few important things 1) Unsurprisingly, extreme heat causes everyone to flock to the ocean. 2) It also makes people extremely irritable. 3) Lots of irritable people packed together in large groups leads to chaos and 4) wool uniforms are not ideal attire for patrolling beaches in temperatures around 100. 

So after 4 days she was over it. She had spent Monday with Jackson getting sworn at, honked at and nearly run over as they directed traffic at the busiest beaches in the city. She spent Tuesday with Tim breaking up beach brawls, confiscating contributing alcohol and watching bikini clad woman flirt with Tim. At least 8 different woman had asked him to rub sunscreen on them or suggested he take off his shirt to cool down. She had rolled her eyes so much she had given herself a headache. Although it may have been the sun. Yesterday, her and Nolan and responded to a report of a missing child who was feared drowned or kidnapped but turned out had followed the music of an ice cream truck four blocks and was found, about 30 minutes after the officers arrived, happily eating a fudgiscle. However, they were kept at the beach for the remainder of their shift by various citizens with complaints ranging from seagulls, wasps and possible sharks to thieves, streakers and possible melanoma. 

Now her and Jackson were headed back to a beach where the adjacent shrubbery was currently being consumed by a blazing bush fire, which was in all likelihood human caused and spreading fast. Therefore all hands were on deck as the LAPD worked with the LAFD to keep civilians safe, extinguish the fire and investigate its cause.

The rest of her shift passed in a blur as they interviewed witnesses, cordoned off the area, issued evacuation orders, ensured those who needed it got medical attention, joined a production line passing large buckets of water from the ocean to where the fire was burning and debriefed with their team which included Nolan and Tim, and Lopez and Harper. Luckily in the end, the fire was successfully extinguished, those living nearby were safe and happily back in their homes and the perpetrator, a cigarette butt flicker, was caught. But not until nearly 11pm by which time the entire team was exhausted, scorching and covered in soot and ash. With their job done the team of 6 headed away from the scene back along the beach to where they had parked their shops. They were right on the sand where they left them to create a barrier preventing people from wandering toward the fire and the beach around them was abandoned. Likely due to a combination of the late hour, the fire itself and the fact that the stretch of beach they were on was only accessible by walking about a mile from one of the main beaches on either side or by scrambling down the steep cliff behind them.

“Anybody want a cold one,” Nolan asked when they reached the vehicles, “well a hot one I guess” he amended as he pulled out a six pack he had confiscated earlier in the day from the trunk of his shop. Everybody made a face at the offer of hot beer but since the only light around came from the shops headlights shining in the opposite direction Nolan didn’t see them.

“Screw it, I’ll take one,” Angela said.

“Wesley and Patrice took the baby to meet the extended Evers clan so I have nowhere to be and now that I’m no longer breastfeeding I can have whatever I want. Even if that’s gross beer that’s been sitting in a hot car all day,” she explained.

“If we dig a hole near the water line it will fill with cold seawater and we can make a makeshift beer fridge,” Jackson suggested but Angela had already opened her can and was sipping away.

“I’ll help dig the hole,” Nyla offered. “I’d rather hangout here then go back to the station to do paperwork and Lila’s with her dad so I also have no where I have to be.”

“I’ll call Grey and tell him we’re clocking out and will do the paperwork in the morning,” Tim offered.

“Your staying?” Lucy asked a little too excitedly, “what about Kojo?” she quickly added.

“Tamara called several hours ago and offered to give him dinner, take him for a walk and put him to bed.”“She saw the fire on the news and rightly assumed we’d have our hands full,” he finished.

30 minutes later they all sat in the sand around their makeshift beer fridge. Shoes, socks and button up shirts discarded and pants pulled up to their knees. 3 flashlights were in the middle of the group, pointing skyward, their handles buried in the sand. They laughed as they went around and told stories.

“How is it still this hot?” Lucy asked a while later.  It was after midnight and the temperature had yet to even consider dropping below 90. 

She pulled her white t-shirt away from her skin fanning, herself. 

“I’m going swimming,” she declared ready to stand up.

“Your going swimming? Right Now? In that?” Tim asked gesturing to her cotton tee and woolen pants.

Lucy shook her head. “I was just going to go in my underwear but now that I think about it I don’t really want to have to drive back to the station in soaking wet underwear.”

Tim nodded as if this is what he expected but Lucy didn’t see him and continued.

“I guess I’ll just skinny dip,” she concluded.

Tim managed to both spit out and choke on the sip of beer he had just taken.

Everybody else’s faces were turned towards Tim and wearing amused expressions but they were saved his annoyance due to the limited light and the fact that his attention was still fully on Lucy.

“What?” She asked Tim, “It’s not a big deal. It’s dark. Plus everybody here has already seen me naked.” 

“Well except you,” she added, which earned another spit take from Tim.

Lucy rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. She loved seeing Tim flustered, especially when it was her doing.

“What?” He finally managed to ask in a strained voice after a few harsh coughs to clear his throat.

“Everybody here’s seen Lucy naked but you,” Lopez offered, “although that was bound to change sometime soon,” she added.

Lucy and Tim both turned to look at her wide eyed. Nolan and Nyla were both hiding smirks and Jackson wore an expression of mainly panic as he spoke.

“She’s drunk. She has no idea what she’s saying,” Jackson offered before turning to look daggers at Angela and whisper something in her ear.

Lucy thought she heard the words bet, interference and disqualified but she couldn’t be sure.

When he finished Angela addressed them again. “Sorry, apparently my tolerance took a nose dive since pre-pregnancy. I didn’t mean anything by that I got you mixed up with Smitty and what’s her face,” she finished waving her hand disparagingly.

“Hmm,” Lucy said clearly not buying her lame excuse but Tim still had his mind on other things.

“Why has everybody else here seen you naked?” he asked, his tone almost suspicious.

Lucy laughed. “Are you jealous?”

He fixed her with his best TO look. “No.”

Lucy suppressed the urge to roll her eyes yet again and answered.

“Communal showers at work,” she began gesturing to Nyla and Angela. “Best friends and roommates” she added pointing to Jackson. “Life gets crazy. Sometimes closing doors or throwing on clothes just isn’t a priority,” she explained seeing Tim’s confused expression. “Also we had to help each other into and out of the bath after we were injured.” She didn’t have to specify her kidnapping or the beating Jackson took to take down Doug Stanton. This group knew. “It’s kind of ironic that when everything hurts all you want is a warm bath but when everything hurts it’s nearly impossible to get yourself into and out of a bathtub,” she finishes. “Oh and Nolan and I used to date.” She says it as almost an afterthought, super casual. But all the former TOs still look at her with shock.

“You and Nolan?” Nyla asks with a laugh. “Really?” “No offense,” she adds addressing Nolan.

“Ah, none taken?” Nolan replies, clearly confused by her reaction.

“When?” Lopez asks looking between the two P2s.

“For a couple months while we were in the academy. We called it off shortly after we started at Mid-Wilshire,” Nolan supplied.

“Wow, I just can’t picture it,” Angela continued shaking her head.

“Why would you want to picture it?” Tim spat. Then seemed to catch himself and schooled his scowl back into a blank expression.

“Why’d you call it off, anyway?” Angela asked. Half actually curious. Half just trying to do her friend a solid and take the attention off him.

“Bishop warned me that dating a fellow cop would brand me and could ruin my career,” Lucy answered and thought she saw Tim flinch. It was impossible to tell for sure with just the flashlights, nevertheless she added, “Somethings matter more-“ she was staring right at Tim now “-are worth the gossip, the assumptions, the risk.” As she said it she saw his expression change but she couldn’t read it. “But our relationship wasn’t one of those things. We’re better as friends, anyway,” she finished addressing the whole group but looking at Nolan specifically for confirmation.

“Agreed,” Nolan nodded holding up his beer.

“To friends,” Jackson said clicking his to Nolan’s.

“To friends,” everybody joined in clinking their cans together.

“So who’s coming skinny dipping with me?” Lucy asked as she started to make her way back to the vehicles where she could leave her clothes in a place where they’d stay sand free.

“I will,” said Angela, “pregnancy and caring for a baby really makes modesty go out the window. The two beers I’ve had don’t hurt either.” She began to follow Lucy to the cars.

“I’m in,” Jackson offered, “with you two practically glowing in the dark nobody will even notice me.” He teased as he got up to join them, earning a playful shove from Lucy.

“Nobody’s here to see anything anyway.” She retorted.

“Go ahead. I might join you later.” Nolan said and Nyla and Tim nodded in agreement.

10 minutes later. Lucy, Angela and Jackson’s clothes were inside Jackson and Lucy’s shop and they were out in the ocean. It dropped off quickly so they weren’t that far away from the beach even though the water came to just below Lucy’s shoulders. After four days of blazing heat and the fire on top today, the cool water felt like heaven to her. She dipped and dove through the water, relishing the cool and wiped at her face and hands to remove the soot that had coated them earlier. Beside her Angela was trying to show Jackson what her son does when they put him in the water. This led to reminiscing about childhood summers spent at the beach or in backyard and community pools. And before they knew it they were playing old games from those days. John and Nyla had joined them by this time. Claiming some combination of escaping the heat, joining the fun and more beer as the motivation. They were currently having breath holding contests.

“I win!” Jackson exclaimed as he came up for air to find everyone else already up.

“You cheated,” Lucy argued, “I saw you come up while I was still under. I had my eyes open.”

“I did not. Plus it’s pitch black under there you couldn’t possibly have seen anything.”

“Did Jackson come up?” Lucy yelled at Tim who was still sitting on the shore.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t watching,” he replied casually with a slight shrug.

“Yes you were,” Angela argued, “you haven’t taken your eyes off Lucy since she got in here,” then realizing what she said she quickly ducked back under the water. 

Everybody still above the surface froze.

Then after a beat. “So did he come up or not. I need to know if I won,” Nyla asked, all business.

“He floated to the surface but didn’t lift his head up. He won,” Tim offered defeatedly.

“Told you!” Jackson bragged.

“Rematch. 3,2,1 go,” shouted Nyla as everybody ducked back under the water. Lucy a split second behind everybody else as her attention was still on Tim. 

She came up about 30 seconds later just as a wave was passing by her and managed to swallow a good serving of water. She coughed and sputtered but before she knew it Jackson and Nolan were beside her and she was assuring them she was Ok just needed a bit of time to catch her breath. As she swam towards the shore to rest in the shallows she noticed Tim was just sitting back down and his pants were wet to just above the knee. But she didn’t let herself focus on it.

She swam to just in front of where he sat laying on her stomach on the ocean floor, head just above the water.

“You OK?” He asked shifting his eyes to her for the first time since she swam up.

“Ya fine, just swallowed a little water,” she assured him.

“Looks like you guys are having fun out there,” he nodded indicating the group still farther out.

“Ya the water feels amazing. You can’t honestly tell me that you aren’t hot.” She had meant it literally. He was sitting in above 90 degree weather with wool pants on. But then she realized he had taken off his white shirt and his muscled chest and stomach were currently on full display and the word took on an entirely different meaning. She was thankful for the darkness as it hid her blush but even that couldn’t hide the fact that she was definitely staring. 

“The ladies on the beach the other day will be so disappointed they’re missing this,” she teased gesturing to his bare upper half, hoping to give a probable explanation for the staring.

He gave a short laugh. “Not as disappointed as the meat bags who were wolf whistling at you will be that they’re missing that.” As he gestured at her he finally let himself actually take her in. Her hair was still up in its low work bun leaving her entire back exposed. The upper half of which was completely taken up by a tattoo, he had never seen before, although the light was too limited for him to make out the design. The rest of her body was hidden in shadows except her face which was now free of soot and make-up making her look young and vulnerable. Freckles brought out by the last few days of blazing sun were speckled across the bridge of her nose. Her mouth was twisted in thought and her eyes sparkled in the light of the flashlights. She really was beautiful.

While those thoughts flew through Tim’s mind Lucy was thinking about his comment about the wolf whistlers. That had happened at the very start of their shift and lasted no more than two seconds. Lucy wasn’t even sure they had been whistling at her and she had completely forgotten about it until Tim brought it up just now. Funny that he would remember. 

 They were both pulled out of their thoughts by a sudden commotion further out in the water:

“DID YOU NOT THERE IS NO PIE!”

“DO NOT THERE IS NO DIE!”

“DO OR DO NOT THERE IS NO TRY!”

Were being yelled over each other.

“What are they doing?” Tim asked looking at the group out in the water.

They were in a circle. Jackson had just given Nolan a high five then they were under again.

“I think they are playing the guess what I said under the water game,” Lucy chuckled.

Tim was about to reply but he was cut off by “How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood” being shouted in unison followed by bickering about who said it first.

“I’m going back out to join them. You going to come?” Lucy asked turning her attention from the group back to Tim.

“I don’t need to be a part of that.”

“Come on Tim. You’re hot and dirty.” She still meant it literally. Really. He was covered in soot. Stupid double entendres.

He raised is eyebrows.

“Just get in the water,” Lucy said splashing water at him to vent her frustration with how flustered she was getting.

He wiped the water from his face and a small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. “Fine.”

Lucy beamed back at him as he stood up and walked back to the shop to discard his remaining clothes then turned her attention back to her friends.

“It’s not Angeles Direct, you’ve already guessed that three times,” Nyla was saying to Jackson

“That’s what it sounds like,” he argued “and it’s definitely closer to that than ‘embroidery period.’”

“That was my first guess. I heard wrong,” Nyla shot back.

“Oh ya cuz ‘and was dressed’ and ‘indoors divest’ were so much closer.”

Any further argument was cut-off by Nolan. “I’ve got it: Angela’s the best,” he said confidently.

“Yes and yes,” Angela confirmed.

“Your turn Nyla.” 

There was a brief silence as they all went back under the water followed by a flurry of screamed “this is stupid.”

“Happy now?” Came a quieter voice beside her and Lucy nearly jumped out of the water. She had been so wrapped up watching her friends she hadn’t even noticed that Tim had made his way back down the beach and was now sitting beside her in the water.

She smiled and nodded. “Aren’t you?”

He gave a non-committal shrug. “We’ll see after I get roped into whatever’s going on out there,” he offered but there was no bite to it. He was even smiling, although mostly with his eyes, as he looked at their friends.

“Well let’s go find out,” Lucy replied as she led the way into the deeper water.

As they approached the group they watched them go up and down and listened to their guesses.

“And further than game”

“Comforters at game”

“Temperatures endgame”

“Stanford is endgame”

“Checkers is a game.” “At least that’s a real sentence”

“Bradford has game?” “That can’t be right he most definitely doesn’t”

Then just as Tim and Lucy joined the group “Chenford is endgame!” Shouted by Angela who upon realizing Tim and Lucy had joined them turned to Jackson.

“This ones not on me it was your sentence.”

Jackson stood stunned for a second looking desperately between Tim, Lucy and Angela then swiftly closed his eyes and yelled “MARCO.”

There was a brief silence then Nolan yelled “POLO” and everyone was swimming away from Jackson at top speed. Everyone except Tim who was giving Lucy a look that said. “See what you got me into? I told you so.” 

But she was busy swimming off with the others, grateful for the distraction. So he rolled his eyes and joined the game. The water did feel amazing although he wasn’t about to admit that to her.

Calls of MARCO POLO and laughter filled the air as everybody took their turn being it: Jackson tagged Nolan who tagged Lucy who tagged Nyla who tagged Jackson who tagged Tim who tagged Nolan who tagged Angela who tagged Jackson who tagged Tim who tagged Lucy. Well he meant to tag Lucy. He reached his arm out and jumped towards her “POLO” but she was closer than he thought and instead of the tips of his finger tagging her shoulder he jumped right into her. He hit her hard and she responded to being knocked off her feet and down into the water instinctively by reaching for the nearest thing to prevent drowning, which happened to be him. So when he opened his eyes her arms were around his neck and her legs around his hips and her face was only about an inch from his own as she coughed up water for the second time that day.

“Are you ok?” He asked moving a piece of hair that had fallen into her face behind her ear.

She nodded but continued to cough as he absentmindedly stroked her back.

 “You caught me by surprise,” she breathed “I didn’t know we were playing full contact Marco Polo.”

He let out a relieved laugh, “I’m sorry.”

“A real Tim Bradford apology I never thought I’d see it in person,” Lucy teased earning an eye roll from Tim. This close Lucy could see all the different shades of blue in his eyes even in the dark. 

“It was an accident.”

“So it wasn’t some sort of Tim Test to see how I would handle a fight in the water?”

“No. You got your last Tim test a year ago when you stopped being my rookie.”

“I can’t believe it’s been a year already,” she said. “Then again we’ve been through enough for an entire career,” she added as her hand reflexively moved from his neck where it was playing with his hair to the tattoo on her her ribs.

That’s when it dawned on her just how close her and Tim were, pressed together without a shred of clothing between them. She had felt so comfortable and content she hadn’t realized the gravity of the situation and what it could lead to. She was about to put some space between them when his hand covered hers over the tattoo marking her supposed day of death. The day he saved her from being buried alive. Although he would say it marked the first day of the rest of her life. The day she saved herself. 

And the desire to move away died in an instant. 

“I kept it,” she said quietly, “because of what you said.” “Because it’s a reminder that I’m a survivor. And that my team will always have my back.”

Tim was looking at her with an expression more open than she’d ever seen. “I have one of those,” he replied softly lifting her hand up and moving it to rest on his lower left abdomen. She was confused at first but as she felt the skin beneath her finger tips she realized it was scarred. The scar from when he was shot on her second day and she pulled him out of the line of gunfire.

She smiled and looked directly into his eyes. 

“It’s a good thing we have each other in our lives,”

“Sure is,”

She was just about to lean in and close the distance between them when a voice interrupted.

“Hey you two. Keep it PG or get a room. This is a family outing.” It was Nyla.

Lucy laughed as she untangled her self from Tim and in that moment she realized two things. 1) this was most definitely her family and 2) she would very happily come back to the beach. Maybe next time she’d just bring Tim, maybe even as her boyfriend.

#the rookie #chenford #lucy chen #tim bradford #nyla harper #angela lopez #jackson west #john nolan

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Lost Boys: Take-Out Intrigue Part 2

Part One | Part Two 

Marko x Reader

Word Count: 2,524

Summary: A requested continuation of this idea. Reader runs into Marko a few weeks later and is convinced to go on a late night rendezvous. 

There were few moments in life as sweet as when you had just finished a shift.

You got along with your co-workers and the owners were good to you. The job itself wasn’t too bad outside of the occasional snotty customer. But after being on your feet, your body was grateful to go home and just sit.

“Be careful, huh? They still haven’t found that guy,” your boss cautioned as she locked up behind the both of you.

That gave you pause.

Two weeks ago, the cops had come in on official business. Yet another missing person’s case in Santa Carla except this time, the last any one had seen of the victim was outside the restaurant. There were no leads which had the workers spooked, especially since it happened nearby.

Some insisted that he had been in an accident, that he would turn up sooner or later. Others maintained that he must be a criminal himself—why else would’ve he been out so late? 

And a third group of co-workers were bold enough to come out and say he was probably long dead, the victim of a killer. You agreed with them. 

Whatever the case, everyone was more cautious when leaving after the late shift.

Most of your shifts were still in the day but after seeing that beautiful boy on a random nightshift you’d taken on a whim and started signing up for more in hopes of seeing him again. He hadn’t come back yet.

You reassured her as you zipped up your jacket. “Thank you, auntie. I promise to be careful.”

Passing a critical eye over you, she started chiding you about dressing smarter—what kind of fool wore a nylon jacket in these temperatures. You took it without complaint, knowing the nagging was how she showed that she cared.

Her husband, the other owner, was already waiting in their car and the last thing she told you as she got in was, “There’s eight in that bag. Share with everyone at home.”

You held the bag containing a pile of smooth, fluffy buns reverently against your chest.

It wasn’t often that she brought food from home to give to employees but when she did, it was always delicious. The bao was a big favorite of yours.

“Thank you. I will,” you said with a dip of your head.

They drove off and you head down to your own car. Alone on the sidewalk, you juggled everything in your arms to fish out your keys, taking great care not to squish the bao. It was a particularly quiet that night which put you on guard, your eyes darting around trying to peer into the darkness.

Every shadow was suspicious, the corners of buildings a potential hiding spot for a psycho laying in wait. There was also an alleyway you had to pass by that made you extra wary. You darted past it, careful to keep it in your line of limited vision.

Santa Carla was a shifty town, especially after dark, and you’d rather be paranoid instead of caught off guard.

The jingle of your car keys was almost obvious disrupter in the otherwise silent street as you unlocked the car. Your textbooks were demoted to the floor of the passenger seat, the bag of bao riding shot gun in the actual seat. 

For a spilt second, you thought about buckling it in but quickly dismissed it; the seat belt could crush them.

You slammed the door shut when you felt it. A cold shudder on the back of your neck. The kind of anxious realization that you were being watched.

Your head swiveled this way and that, trying to find the source of your unease but the darkness too much of a handicap. It was times like this when you were reminded just how badly lit the street was.

There were no detectible sounds either. You strained to pick up the slightest movement and only heard the rush of adrenaline in your ears.

Desperate to keep your wits about you, you took a deep breath and walked as calmly as you could to the driver’s side. You gripped the car keys tightly, in case you needed to stab someone, ignoring the tremors in your hands. Nothing happened, yet the feeling of being watched remained and you hoped that it’d be okay once you got in the car.

You reached for the handle and thought you were safe when it intensified. There was no warning before a cold hand rested on your hip, the chill cutting through your jacket.

You screamed with everything in you and whirled around, arm poised to gouge out the creep’s eyes.

The other person effortlessly batted your attack away and you recognized belatedly that those distinct curls were familiar. The fight drained out of you with one big gasp of air. “You.”

He smiled excitedly, like he hadn’t just scared the shit out of you. He spun your keys, the key ring looped around his finger. You didn’t remember them leaving your hold.

“Nice jab,” he complimented.

“Yeah,” you stammered, hand over your pounding heart. It was eerie how he snuck up on you like that, even when you were on full guard.

“You didn’t hesitate.” The spinning stopped and he offered you the keys. He leaned in close stopping just shy of invading your personal space. “You have a fighter’s instinct.”

“Only when people sneak up on me.”

He rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry about that.”

His voice was perfectly sincere but your intuition didn’t trust him. It told you that he had liked scaring you.

The customer was just how you remembered him from the one time you took his order. Patched jacket and leather chaps and a cherubic face. The flawless face was a harsh reminder that you hadn’t been able to land a single scratch on him.

“We didn’t introduce ourselves last time,” you frowned. “What’s your name?”

He bit his thumb, the paleness of it standing in stark contrast with the dark leather of his fingerless glove even in the dim light. “Marko.” Hmm. It suited him, you decided. “And you’re Y/N.

You stood up a little straighter, uneasy. You were sure that you hadn’t said your name last time—you never introduced yourself to customers.

Once again, he stole the words out of your mouth. “It was on the name tag.”

Oh. You’d forgotten about the raised rectangular underneath your jacket. The name tag. “Sorry. I’m still a little spooked from what just happened.”

“Never took you for a screamer,” he teased. Heat exploded in your face and the night hid how he focused on the small bird shaped pin on the lapel of your jacket.  

He was more mischievous and you wished for the ease of conversation from his other visit. Was this truer to his actual personality? Normally, you’d wouldn’t have minded either way but you couldn’t ignore the weirdness of this encounter.

Your goal was to leave as soon as possible. Either he didn’t pick up on that, or he did and just didn’t care because next thing you knew, he was inviting you to hang out at a park a couple of blocks away. And he didn’t mean tomorrow or next week, he meant right then.

Your resistance was instinctive and the excuse that you needed to go home and get some sleep was both a truth and a lie.

He crowded you against the car, finally crossing into your personal space. You made the mistake of glancing into his eyes and found you couldn’t turn away. The longer you looked, the more you swore that a predatory yellow glowed from his irises.

Human eyes didn’t even come in that color! You were going crazy.

“I think you should come.” His soft tone didn’t match the determined posture. “You’ll have fun.”

You struggled internally but he started to sound reasonable. Forget the fact that this was something you knew better than to do. You really wanted to keep talking with him and an inner voice reminded you that you had been waiting for him to return…This was your chance.

“Okay,” you smiled. The previous reservations evaporated from your mind and all you could think about was the excitement.  

The two of you drove to the park, him on his motorcycle and you in your car. All of the benches empty and ready for the taking. There a few by the basketball courts and there were tons of streetlights in that direction so you went there.

Sitting down, you were finally able to see him clearly. The park used white bulbs in their lights which was an upgrade from the orange ones lining the streets.

“Here.” You handed him one of the buns that you brought with from the car. “It’s char siu bao.”

He lit up. “Whoa! I didn’t know you guys sold this. Is it a secret menu item?”

You laughed, spitting out mashed-up bits of food. Still chuckling, you made sure to swallow and then answered. “Nope, there’s not a secret menu. Not one that I know about any way. Sometimes the owners bring in food to share with us and they made bao this time.”

The first bite had him moaning obscenely. The rest of it was scarfed down quickly and he patted his stomach appreciatively, his cut-off tank riding up to expose more of his skin.

“Damn. That was orgasm by BBQ pork bun. Your angel for giving me some.”

For the second time that night, heat spread across your face and you kept your eyes trained away. His boldness was flattering. How could you have been scared of him earlier? It seemed ridiculous right then.

“So,” he continued, “I couldn’t help but notice the eyesore hanging from your rear-view mirror.”

“It’s not an eyesore. It took me a whole week to make that.”

That impressed him. “Really. You make a lot of things yourself?”

It launched a whole conversation about your latest creative projects. What kind of materials you liked to work with, where you got your supplies, and if you would show them to him sometime.

Marko talked about his as well. He mostly dabbled in clothing projects, like his jacket, and painting although he worked with shells and wood a lot, too. If the extraordinary patch work on the jacket was any indicator, he was seriously talented.

Sensing an opportunity, you proposed that you would show him your stuff, only if he showed you his.

“You’ll have to be specific what of mine you want to see,” he said with a wink.

“The projects, Marko. I mean the projects,” you sassed. It was becoming easier to respond to his quips.

He gestured further down where some patches of spray paint were visible on the concrete ground. “I can show you some now, if you want.”

Your brows shot up. He did say he did all kinds of painting, but he spray painted too? Curious, you didn’t wait for him as you went to go take a peek.

People tagged all over Santa Carla these days, normally on buildings or signs. Never had you seen it left up in a public park and on the ground, no less. A lot of residents complained about what they saw as trashy graffiti, but you thought that was a conservative view. Some it was actually quite good, the talent of the artists undeniable.

The five slabs of park sidewalk examples of good pieces. There were styles that differed from bubbly word font to intricate cartoon characters and it was apparent that many people had worked on this.

You examined them critically, trying to find which was Marko’s based on your limited knowledge.

The bubbly font was too soft for him. The animated turtle with a bandana and nun-chucks, certainly a comic book figure, didn’t seem like him either. Then you spotted a stylized skull with a bird placed in each eye socket, an aggressively written ‘anarchy’ running down the side length of it.

The pin was a reminder on your chest and you knew that it was his.

“Aww, how’d you guess?”

“A little birdy told me,” you said, softly touching the image. What really stood out was the high-level shading he incorporated. The cheeks appeared wicked sharp and the eye sockets had realistic depth to them. You couldn’t believe he managed those techniques with simply spray paint.

Marko crouched in front of you, watching you intently. Your scent and admiration irresistible to him.  

Neither of you spoke as he leaned ever closer. Unlike earlier, the quiet wasn’t scary and you felt anticipation. Right at the moment he his lips would’ve touched yours, there was a big rustle in the bushes to your left.

Both of you froze. You in alarm and Marko in annoyance.

Next thing you knew, another blonde rolled out from the foliage and bowled Marko over. The curly haired boy was quick to shove the other off of him and you were sure what was happening.

Until the new comer with his fluffed hair patted Marko affectionately on the shoulder, the chain attached to his black coat clinking. That was a familiar touch. “Marko!”

“Get your fat ass off me, Paul” he grumbled.

Paul dusted himself off and peered behind at his butt “I knew these pants looked good on me.”

Marko wasn’t having it. “Yeah, yeah. Why are you here?”

“You abandoned me, bud. I was gunna see if you wanted to feed but looks like you’re already occupied.” He turned his brilliant smile towards you and all you managed was wave awkwardly.

“This is Y/N,” Marko explained. “We were just talking.”

“Sure,” Paul said dragging out the r and flagrantly winking. Yikes, he would’ve gotten a show if he had waited a second more to reveal himself.

“Well now that you barged in, I suppose we should meet back up with the other two.”

Paul nodded and ran off into the darkness without any further explanation.

You stood up as well trying to salvage your dignity. Despite moving in for a kiss minutes ago, Marko didn’t try again. He walked backwards in the same direction Paul had left in, wearing his signature smirk.

“I’ll stop by for take-out soon. Surprise me with something yummy.” With one last cheeky wave, he jogged away.

At the moment he disappeared, it was as if a fog had cleared. All of your alarms came rushing back. You must be crazy for having agreed to come to the park!

Who in their right mind went somewhere with a stranger in the dead of night with a killer on the lose?

Were you that weak for a pretty face that all it took was them asking you nicely? Yes, your time with him hadn’t been horrible, actually, you enjoyed it, but something still wasn’t right.

You trudged to your car, kicking yourself. If he came to the restaurant like he claimed, you’d have to put your foot down more. Stupid decisions got people killed in Santa Carla and you were determined not to be another missing person.

Even for a face like Marko’s.

_______________

Bao is so so good! I can’t tell if I have a good handle on writing Marko yet. Yes, the missing person is the one he offed last time and yes, he did use mind powers on the reader here. 

Thanks for reading :)

#the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys marko #marko the lost boys #the lost boys imagines

[enigma-im]

Tenth day of Christmas...

Trope: Soulmate

Relationship: Alien x Human

Word count: 5,282

A lazy Saturday night. No responsibilities, nowhere to be, just me, and my tv. I quickly change into my pajamas, ready to plop myself on the couch for the rest of the day. Grabbing my phone on the way out of my room I swipe through messages, ignoring a great portion of them in favor of total isolation. Just me and my shows tonight.

A chill runs over my neck before I hit my shin against something hard. Arching forward I cradle my leg with a restrained curse barely sitting on the tip of my tongue. I look down at the sudden coffee table before me, it's bright white design polar opposite to my dark aesthetic in my home. I glance around the room, running cold at the unfamiliar environment. Everything is bright and illuminated, the furniture the only dark thing in here besides the baseboards lining the walls. I gawk in utter confusion.

"Who are you," someone barks, rolling into a growl. I snap my attention to some…thing standing just behind me. I twist towards them quickly, taking a few steps back as I take them in. Tall is my first thought, followed closely by bright. The creature is an alluring shade of blue, a mix of dark and light around its face. The top of its head is skin like hair that looks slicked back. It's almost like dreadlocks in their thickness. Average looking human eyes but a long mouth with thin lips. If it wasn't for the human-like stature I'd assume this was some sort of monster. The clothes are a slightly comforting touch. All around it's a rather disgusting looking man…alien…monster…thing.

He takes a threatening step towards me, shouting again," Who are you? How did you get into my home?" I choke on an answer, still confused and lost. Jerking my head here and there I take in the room, still just as weirded out. Where am I? who is this thing? I curl into myself, panting heavily as I panic. The thing takes another step, catching my attention again.

"Answer me, human," he spits the words," How did you get here?" I flounder for an answer, gawking like a fish as I try to talk.

"I-I-I," I try to speak," don't know." He recoils at the answer, before looking stricken. His lips peel back into a snarl, showing off sharp intimidating teeth. I nearly whimper at the sight, feeling like prey at this moment. He charges at me.

"Out, out, out," he shouts. I take frantic steps back till my back hits a wall. He corners me easily, grabbing at my shoulders. I shut my eyes, clenching up for the oncoming attack.

I'm greeted with silence.

I peek open my eyes to see my familiar bedroom. Uncertain, I curl my hands against my chest and look around the room. I see my bed, my vanity, the slightly ajar door to my bathroom. There is no sight of the alien man. I quickly bolt to my closet, grabbing my bat before checking the apartment. I walk to every room, ready to take on the horrid monster.

I clock out of work, heading to my car. Hooking up my phone I jam out to some tunes while I sort my work attire out. Setting my name tag in the cup holder and tossing the apron to the passenger seat. Before I can press the brakes I see a light bright enough for me to force my eyes closed. I feel my seat sink, a weightless feeling taking me for a moment. I open my eyes.

Coming up empty I manage to circle back to my room, confused and hurt. I rub at my chest, trying to ease this great discomfort. Setting the bat by the door I curl up in bed, forgoing my lazy Saturday night.

It's weeks after the incident and I'm left feeling like it was all a dream. There were no odd moments after that one, surely it was some strange mishap of imagination. I actually begin to forget it as the month comes to an end, though a strange emptiness stirs in my stomach. The feeling is worse at night, leaving me to cuddle with my pillows to ease it minorly.

I look into the barely familiar room, clenching onto the armrest to a chair. Terrified I look all around, spotting the strange man in a small kitchenette. We make eye contact, both of us startled. He recovers faster than I.

"You! What are you doing back in my house," he shouts, storming over. I sink further into the seat, nails biting into the wooden rests.

"I don't kn-," I try to explain.

"I don't want you here, how are you coming back," he barks, angrier than our first meeting. I try to explain again but he shouts over me. His words are harsh, accusing me of things I didn't do. As I attempt to speak over him he just gets louder till I feel near tears with all the stress.

"Stop coming here, I don't want you," he grabs at my hand," how did you manage to get in here in the first place? Humans do not possess the wit to get here on their own, so tell! Answer me! How did you get here?" I tug on my arm, trying to get out of his grip.

"I don't know," I scream," I don't know, so please stop yelling at me." I feel ridiculous as I'm near tears but I feel the situation calls for it on some level. I didn't mean to be here, it's not my fault.

The man stumbles at my shout, letting me go as he takes a step back. I curl into myself, wrapping my arms around my body, and tuck my feet up on the chair. He watches me, angry but lost. I glare up at him, fighting back the stinging in my eyes. My chest feels sore.

"I don't know where I am and I just want to go home," I plead, gritting my teeth. He furrows his brow, sneering as he reaches out and touches my arm. Before I can attempt to fight back I'm back in my car.

Looking around the dark parking lot I fall lax once I realize my position. I whimper as an ache squeezes at my chest. Leaning forward and banging my head on the steering wheel I take a deep breath, then a few more.

There is sadly a next time.

Can't write that one off as a dream.

I wait for the next few days anxiously. Trying to convince myself of 'two is a coincidence, three's a pattern' does little to soothe me. I could only hope that those two incidents were flukes. My nerves try to get the best of me but I know better. I get angry every time I think back, mad at how some harsh words could get me near tears. No man, alien or otherwise, is allowed to get such an upper hand on me. I promise myself indifference the next time I see that jerk.

I'm taken from my shower, to my misfortune. Covered only in a towel I stand in the bright living room, flustered and angry. The alien stands before me, arms crossed as he gives me a once over. As his gaze meets mine he quirks his brow. I tighten the towel around myself, glaring all the while.

"Caught you at a bad time I see," he says nearly bored. I huff, walking around the chair to hide my lower self. As I twist around I catch him tilting his head to follow me with his eyes. I snap my fingers at him, catching his attention. "send me back," I demand. He recoils in disgust at my command.

"No, I'm not some servant to make a request from. Also, I need to talk with you," he answers. I scoff, twisting away. Talk with me? Does this conversation involve more yelling and blame? I'm wet, cold, and flustered. I've been tense all week waiting for this exact moment to happen and I rather not spend another second here.

"No," I grumble.

"Excuse me," he bites back. I turn towards him, sneering.

"No, I don't want to talk with you. Send me back and keep it that way," I growl, a tad proud at the sudden backbone I've grown. He scoffs, shifting weight to his other leg.

"Do you believe that I intend for you to keep coming back," he asks the rhetorical question," because trust me, I don't want you around as much as you don't want to be around."

"Oh really? Haven't noticed," I tease," you have been so friendly up until now."

He rolls his eyes," sarcasm, such a low form of wit." I bite my tongue from throwing a remark back.

"Doesn't matter, send me back," I demand.

"Not until we talk," he shoots back. I tense in pure frustration. I'm near-naked and confused, I don't need this right now. Twisting away from him I fold my arms over my chest. He can talk if he wants but I don't have to answer.

The alien sighs," if I give you something to wear then will you talk with me?" I check on him from the corner of my eye. He looks as tired as I feel at that moment. Reluctantly I nod.

He exits the room, coming back shortly with a long shirt. Handing it to me he turns around, leaving me to put the shirt on and tying the towel around my waist. I sit in the chair as he sits on the couch. The silence is almost as bad as the yelling. I clear my throat, trying to bait him into speaking first. He sighs.

"Well I think the best way to start is with an introduction," he shrugs," I'm Egil, a Birger."

"Hello Egil," I wave awkwardly, dropping my arm quickly," I'm Kari, a human. I think you knew that part though."

"yea," he scratches at his neck," I wanna make a deal with you, Kari. We are in a bit of a bind that makes this little teleporting thing common. You see, we are important to one another according to a much higher power. I never chose this, let you know that now, and I'd prefer it if this little…situation… wasn't permeant." I squint at him, confused.

"What?"

He sighs, rubbing at his face," my people have a very interesting power that most of the galaxy favors. With that power comes a 'blessing' that brings another being to us when the time is right. Now I thought this someone would be a, well, another Birger. That's clearly not right so I just have to make do. So I'm asking for you to bear with this little inconvenience for a little longer until it runs its course and we can go our separate ways."

I process his words, rolling them around in my head. A special someone? Am I the special someone? What does he mean by 'run its course'? I think of a proper way to articulate my words to get across how utterly lost I am in this conversation. I look between his beautiful lavender eyes.

"What?"

He drops his head in his hands, rubbing at his eyes harshly before he snaps," you are my mate and if we wait a bit then you will stop being sent to me. So I ask can we just be civil until this stops?"

I taste the words on my tongue," Soulmate?"

He rests his chin on his hand," sure, soulmates. That's not the point, do you agree to be civil until this all blows over?" my brain flips flops. I take a moment to actually let the words settle before I speak. I cross my legs, resting my elbow on my knees and leaning forward.

"So you have soulmates and you think I'm them-,"

"You are," he interrupts.

"- so you want to ignore it because of why exactly?"

"Because it won't work, obviously," he answers casually.

I quirk a brow," because I'm human or because you can see the future?"

He snorts, recoiling in mirth," do you want to be my mate?"

"No, of course not. I'm just asking because I know like thousands of people who would be jumping for joy in this situation and I'm trying to see if you don't see me as an option because your racist," I tease, baiting him a bit. He deadpans, not amused in the slightest.

"Deal or not, Kari," he asks.

"Yea, sure, whatever," I wave him off," are we done now? I'm catching a chill."

The few long conversations we have had were surprisingly pleasant. When he isn't being a grump he can be downright enjoyable to be around. I can almost see how we could work together but I trash that idea when he starts getting snappy again.

He scoffs," yea, sure." standing he reaches over and touches my shoulder, sending me back home.

The next month is filled with annoying moments of being sent away. At first, it was mainly when I was at home, which was better than later when I was sent from work. In those moments Egil is kind enough to promptly send me back. In my more relaxed moments, he pulls me into a conversation, though he sounds bored with it most of the time. I look on the bright side of these meetings, learning what I can about him and aliens.

I try to go on with my life as normal, going out with friends and shopping when I can. I've been blessed to not be taken away in front of everyone. Almost like the teleporting has some know-how on good times and bad times. Though the shower one will never be forgiven.

Lounging against Egil's couch I listen to him explain how his planet's seasons work. It was started with me complaining about the cold in my apartment. He seems to be in a better mood today, talking animatedly about his favorite season. I admire him, finding the twinkle in his eye charming.

"You know when you aren't being a grouch you are nice to be around," I say casually as he takes a short pause in his rant. He stumbles on his next words, turning to me confused.

"What? You think I'm a grouch," he asks.

I shrug, laying against the couch," you get in your feelings a lot and it tends to spoil a meeting."

"In my feelings? I don't follow."

I watch him fidget a bit," you seem to sulk into yourself and I can't get you out of it no matter how much baiting I do. I prefer it when you are speaking animated like right now. You seem to enjoy talking about science and the inner workings of your planet. It's nice." he flusters at the compliment. His cheeks turn a strange dusty purple. I smile to myself at the sight.

"Well, science is entertaining but many people don't care to listen to it often. I can't blame them, I can see how hearing someone ramble for hours about biology and the workings of plants during different temperatures. It's just so cool how the weather can drastically change how a tree will present itself. I mean it just knows the correct way to arrange itself to get the most it can from the sun and I ju-," he glances over at me, sighing," sorry, I'm rambling."

I wave him off," no, go on. I have nothing to do tonight and spending it alone in my apartment doesn't sound too exciting."

He chuckles," glad to hear I'm more entertaining than an empty living space."

Friday night I dress to the nines, truly trying my best. I'm not really optimistic about this becoming more than one date but a girl can try a little. I meet the guy at a set location, agreeing to walk together to dinner. When I see him I'm in awe at his look and my luck. I might owe my friend an apology and a thank you.

I shrug, gesturing for him to continue his rant. My chest feels a bit full when I hear him speak, which is far better than the empty feeling I gain when I'm sent home.

My friend kindly notices my melancholy as of late and sets me up on a cringey blind date. I couldn't help the depressed state I've been in lately. When she offered such a plan I was extremely reluctant. A blind date is for the sad and lonely, or socially impaired. I guess I would fall into one of the categories. I agree after a bit of encouragement.

We talk on the way to the restaurant, the conversation bright and exciting. The empty feeling I've felt lately is bearable in this man's presence. We get our seats and continue talking all through dinner. I'm tempted to invite him up to my apartment. Couldn't hurt to see where this will go.

I excuse myself to the bathroom before we leave. As I open the door I see the bright room I've gotten used to. My shoulders drop as I walk further inside looking for Egil.

"Egil," I call. I hear a creak behind me, twisting around I see Egil staring intently at my dress. Relieved, I step over to him," hey, I was in the middle of something important. Can you send me back?" he takes a moment to actually look up at me, quirking a brow.

"You look…fancy," he says his words carefully.

"Yea, I'm on a date. So can you send me back please," I ask again. His eyes trail down to my dress again, his head tilting as he appraises me. As my words sink in he snaps his attention back to me.

"A date," he frowns," with who?"

"A friend of a friend. I don't have time to talk, he is waiting outside right now. So please," I reach for him. My hand falls on his wrist, tugging him forward. He follows, looking a mix of frustrated and confused.

"Where are you two going," he asks instead of grabbing my shoulders. I huff.

"My place, now please," I shake his hand. He swats me away.

"Why you two going to your place," he asks like an upset father.

"Egil, I'm not going to spell it out for you. Now, please," I reach for him again. He grips my wrists, a tad too hard. His gritting teeth are the last thing I see before I'm back at the bathroom. I walk in feeling sick to my stomach. Passing the mirror I look at myself for a second.

It's a long while before I get sent back to him and it's a rather strange time. I head to bed that night, snuggling up in my sheets.

Why was he so angry?

I don't meet up with my date again after that night. After the meeting with Egil, I feel a little mixed up. He is always a grump, that's normal, but this time was more than mild annoyance. Was he angry with me? That idea picks at me. Why would he be angry?

I wake shortly later to some loud thud. Groaning I twist on my bed, running into a wall I wasn't prepared for. Confused, I look at the couch I'm strewn across. I sit up looking around the dimly lit white room.

"Egil," I call out tired. I get no answer. Getting up off the couch I step around towards the kitchenette spotting Egil sitting on the floor lounging against the cabinets. "Egil," I catch his attention. He bobs his head up, smacking it lightly against the wood behind him.

"Oh, great, it's you," he pulls a drink up to his lips," how was your date." he spits the words. I take in the scene before me, Egil sitting disorganized on the floor with an unknown bottle in hand. He sways a bit, looking distraught.

"Are you drunk," I ask.

He chuckles," of course. What else is there to do at a time like this?"

"Sleep, if I had to suggest something," I joke, more nervous than amused right now. He snorts a loud laugh.

"Funny," he points at me, waving his drink around," one of the traits that bruise me so easily. Like a fruit falling out of a tree and hitting the ground too hard." I quirk a brow. Alright, he is drunk.

"Poetic, I think it's time for you to get some sleep," I crouch before him," you think you can make it to your bed after you send me back?" he sneers, rolling his head against the cabinets.

"Always with that damn demand," he takes another swig," I don't want to do that anymore." I huff. I guess I'm relaxing here tonight. Reaching forward I grab his arm to tug him up.

"Alright, time for bed, Egil," I help him stand. He stumbles as he gets to his feet, bumping into me. I steady him, holding his waist. He takes the moment to swing his arm around me, nearly making me fall as he drops on me.

"What was that outfit your wore the last time," he mumbles near my face, the stank of his alcohol burning my nose.

"My dress," I ask as we make the trek to his bedroom.

"Yea, the dress," he grins, giggling like an idiot," I liked it."

"Thank you, my mother got it for me," I answer as we reach his door. I swing it open, tugging him in. He bumps and nudges me till he falls onto his bed. I take the relief to catch my breath, he is a rather heavy and sloppy drunk. Couldn't hold at least some of his own weight?

He turns onto his back, kicking off his footwear with a dopey grin on his face. Sliding up the bed he looks to me, gesturing me over. In my experience with drunks, this I what we call a bad idea. I take a step closer, still a good enough distance to get out of reach. He gestures me closer. I don't budge, he sneers. Snatching my wrist he tugs me closer, using his other hand to cup the back of my neck. My face is uncomfortably close to his.

"You have the prettiest eyes," he pets at the back of my neck," like weeping gems in the deepest caves of Turmore. Which is fitting because your beauty is so grand it nearly makes me weep in pure joy." I glare at him utterly confused. I gulp hard.

"Are you always like this when drunk," I nearly squeaked. He shrugs, dropping my wrist to pet at my face.

"You bring out the weird in me," he scrunches his nose.

"Ok," I grab his hands and push them away," you need to sleep, I'll be on the couch." I try to take a step back but he pulls me back.

"No," he whines, pulling harder. I fight against him, trying hard not to fall on the bed. With a well-timed tug, I'm pulled against his chest and twisted onto my back. Leaning on his forearm and stretching the other on the opposite side of my head he glares down at me. His stare is hard and focused unlike before. I look between his eyes, waiting with bated breath for his next move.

Egil lowers himself till his lips are near my ear," I want to tell you something."

"y-yea," I try to turn to him but my cheek bumps his. His answer is to kiss my cheek. My heart flutters in my heart like a loose door in a storm. I'm stuck between uncomfortable and uncontrollably excited.

"I don't like our deal anymore," he bumps his head against mine," I feel more and more idiotic for suggesting it."

"why," I shift back to look at him. His eyes are barely open, either from the drink or something else. It doesn't look erotic but he keeps acting this way. He shifts so he can grab my hip, petting me with his thumb.

"I was stupid," he falls to his side, resting his head on his pillow," I was scared of you. Now I'm terrified of you."

"What," I ask offended. I try to crawl out from under him but he circles his hands around my thighs and rests his head on my chest.

"You like our conversations and you're really funny. I don't want to stop seeing you," he rubs his face against my shirt," please don't stop seeing me." his grip a bit harder, trying his hardest to not let me have an inch to get out. I pet at his head, trying to placate him.

"It's alright," I coo," I'm not leaving, I'm right here."

He grunts," for how long?"

"let's just live in the now, Egil. Let me up and try to get some sleep, I'll be here in the morning," I try to push him off. He clenches harder, looking up with his chin pressed against my sternum.

"You can sleep here," he suggests.

"No, that's not appropriate," I scold. He snickers, leaning up and pressing a kiss to my neck.

"Neither is pushing your mate away but I already did that," he makes me shutter as he licks my skin. I take a deep breath, very caught off guard with his attentions.

"How about we talk about this in the morning," I offer," just go to sleep." he grunts, pressing his face in the crook of my neck. I can't bother to try and push him away, somehow enjoying the weight of him on me. I pet at his head, trying to lull him to sleep.

"Good night, love," he brushes his nose against my jaw.

His eyes flutter open, closing as he grins. He stretches, tugging me close, and bumping his head against mine. It's after a moment that he stiffens, pushing me away as he sits up. Laying on the opposite side of the bed I watch his startled expression. He looks from himself to me then the bed. His features strain into a frown.

I sigh," Good night, babe."

I wake the next morning to soft snoring rumbling near my ears. Taking a deep breath I peek my eyes open, looking at Egil lounging on me. His arm is thrown over my chest, hugging me close to him as he sleeps. I take the quiet moment to admire him, look at his lax features. The urge to pet his face is strong. I give into it for a moment, feeling his soft skin on his cheek.

"Don't get grumpy," I yelp. He relaxes partially, more confused than anything.

"Why are you in my bed," he asks.

I chuckle half-heartedly," I've heard a similar question when we first met."

"Kari," he says sternly," please explain."

I fluster, grabbing the blanket to cover most of myself," I don't wanna."

"Why?"

"Because you might get mad or embarrassed," I answer. That doesn't seem to help as he scoots farther away.

"Kari, I'm asking nicely, what happened?"

I nibble my cheek as I debate answering. Surely sober him wouldn't have the same ideas at drunk him. Does he honestly want me to stick around? Will he want to hear about how he kissed and licked my body before falling asleep half on top of me?

Will he still think my eyes are pretty?

"You got drunk. That's it," I answer quickly," I put you into bed and you didn't want me to sleep on the couch because you are so kind. So you let me use your bed and here we are."

His brow furrows," Is that all?"

I hide under the blanket some more," No."

"Kari," he scolds," what did I say?" I debate lying, saving his feelings-and mine- from this recap. Nibbling on my cheek I try to gain some courage.

Peaking over the blanket I ask," do you really regret making that deal with me?"

Egil stiffens, grabbing a fist full of blankets in a harsh grip. I wince at his discomfort. I bet if he regrets anything right now it's saying that last night. He takes a moment for himself, looking towards the room before meeting my eyes. He sighs, dropping his chin towards his chest.

"Yes, more than anything," he grumbles. I nearly pop up from under the blanket like a whack-a-mole.

"Really," I ask," I mean, why?"

He winces, shrugging as he thinks of an answer. "I don't know. A lot of reasons. I just think not having you around anymore would be…a great loss. Having you as a friend has been great and I don't want that to end."

"You want to keep me around as a friend," I ask, feeling a stab at my heart for such a lacking suggestion. Does he only see us as friends? I don't want to be brazens and assume that we can be much more but…it couldn't hurt.

He sighs," No, I don't think I could muster the strength to keep things platonic with you. Especially after seeing you in that dress."

I grin," better than the towel?" he peaks at me, giving a teasing smile. It feels easy to talk with him like that, the tension already ebbing away.

Feeling brave I shift the blanket off myself and crawl over towards him, stopping as our legs touch. I hesitate to touch him, using stubborn courage to grab at his hands.

"Egil," I start," I don't know a lot about all this and you suck completely at trying to explain it. Yet, I can feel something here and it's beginning to grow. I really want to know now, before it's too late, if you honestly want to give this a try. Ever since the night with the dress I haven't been able to get that angry scowl out of my mind. I don't want to ever see you angry. Grumpy is fine but angry, I can't handle it. It made me realize that I want to make you happy and being here with you is the one way I know for sure that I can make that happen. So, do you want to try?"

Egil squeezes my hand, watching me in harden focus. I wait for his answer, craving his answer. The battle is clear on his face as he tries to think of something, anything, to say. In the end, he just grabs my face and tugs me into a kiss.

It's surprising at first, to feel his thin, long mouth against mine. Yet, his sweet taste draws me in as I cup his face. He tells me all I need to know in just a simple action. Though he is a man of many words, this moment didn't demand such talent. I part from him to rest my head against his.

"I want a date night with you," I smile, feeling silly demanding such a thing.

"What's a date night," he asks.

"Dinner, movies, cuddling and kissing on the couch," I answer. He nods, thinking about it.

"Will you wear that dress again," he perks up. I press a sweet kiss to his mouth.

"If you want," I smirk.

"Then it's a date, hopefully, I'll get to see you in the towel next time," he flirts. I scoff, playfully hitting his chest. He laughs, tugging me into a hug and another kiss. I pet at his cheek, smiling like a dork.

"Maybe if you play your cards right, I'll be in less than a towel."

He growls in excitement.

#12 days of christmas #12 tropes for christmas #Enigma-IM #monster boyfriend #alien boyfriend #alien x human #soulmate #exophilia

[myfearless-love]

The Wildest Place You Run (1/?) - Better Safe Than Sorry

It's finally here! My contribution to this year's CSSNS! This is my first time participating in this event and I couldn't be more excited to share my story with you! Recently I watched a lot of supernatural/fantasy TV shows on Netflix and so the concept of this fic was born. It has all kinds of creatures, mixed with adventure, drama, mystery, suspense, and of course, most importantly CAPTAIN SWAN.

Huge thank you to my beta and artist, @thejollyroger-writer for clearing up my mistakes and help me get this story to you. Check out what gorgeous art she made for the fic!! ☝️

I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Summary: Vampires, Werewolves, Mages, and Elves. For centuries, they kept their existence a secret, but the constant rebellions against the strict laws of the Guild had led to a terrible tragedy. In an open clash, it became apparent to humans just what kind of monsters lived among them. Emma Swan loses the love of her life in the first battle of the war. A few months later, while still trying to process what happened, a mysterious and terrifying figure worms his way into her life. But the man is hiding far more terrible secrets than he reveals to her, pulling them both into a horrible situation...

Chapters: 1/? - Better Safe Than Sorry

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Rating: M

Relationships: Killian Jones/Emma Swan

Read on: FF.net or AO3

Words: ~1.7k

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The cobbled streets of the city were dripping with rainwater, and the light from the tall lamps hung like balloons in the cool, misty night air. The harsh wind tore at the branches of the balding trees, a vast amount of withered yellow and brown leaves stirred up a path on the uninhabited sidewalk.

The weather had cooled down more than she’d expected. She pulled up the zipper of her red leather jacket and quickened her steps. She knew it would have been wise to get home on time, she was sure David was already working up an ulcer, marching up and down in the living room.

Somewhere nearby, the clock tower struck ten and she shuddered, accelerating her pace as the curfew had just taken effect. Her hand instinctively slid onto her bag where her Glock 19 lay safely.

She dug into the satchel, and the startled hammering of her heart subsided somewhat as her fingers touched the barrel of the gun. She very much hoped she wouldn’t have to use it. In this world, bandits and robbers were the least dangerous kind, as it was enough to just simply shoot them…

When she finally emerged from the cover of the trees in the park, she opened the heavy wrought-iron gate and hastily crossed the narrow street to continue on the main road. Her footsteps echoed emptily on the deserted avenue, not a soul in sight.

Her destination wasn’t far off, and she fought the urge to run the last few yards. She turned around the corner and into a narrow alley, rushing toward the last, albeit slightly shabby, apartment building.

At the front door, her nearly frozen fingers rummaged awkwardly for her keys in her pocket. But before she could slide the key in, she heard the click of the lock, the massive iron door slamming open with a bang.

As she had suspected, she found herself face to face with a seething David, who, for the moment, was still silent. She risked an angelic and rueful smile and quickly slipped into the house beside him.

All her hopes were dashed when the door crashed back into its frame behind her and David turned to her vigorously. He put both his hands on his hips, a move she found rather comical despite the situation - it reminded her of an agitated lunch lady before scolding a kid in the cafeteria. Still, she couldn’t laugh at it. At the sight of his flashing eyes, she squared her shoulders and waited.

Come what might.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

Her only brother never cursed unless he was furious.

“I was just taking a walk in the park,” she replied quietly, and by that time, all her humor was gone. David was right. What she had done was really stupid. “I’m sorry. I should’ve kept better track of time.”

“Didn’t you even notice it got dark in the meantime?” David grew angrier by the minute, and her face began to burn with shame.

She hated arguing with him, so when the opportunity arose, she tried to heed his advice. Today’s case was an exception. “I’m really sorry,” she muttered, lowering her gaze to the pave-stone.

After long seconds of no response from him, she looked up cautiously, only to see him disappear behind the door that led to their apartment.

“David!”

She took off her boots and rushed after him, but as soon as she caught up with him, she grimaced. In the living room, on a mahogany-carved coffee table, David’s nearly complete arsenal of weapons lay spread out. Pistols, knives, rifles, magazines…

“What happened?” She dropped her bag on the couch and walked over to her brother, who was lounging in front of the window.

“A pack of werewolves in the middle of town in broad daylight! That’s what happened!” he hissed between clenched teeth, he was still trembling with fury.

“In the city center?” she repeated, stunned. That was a new one. Plus, it was happening during the day? It was getting weirder and weirder.

David took a deep breath, but it didn’t help much. He was still too upset.

“What happened? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. Although, it wasn’t up to me. If Killian hadn’t intervened, I would've certainly kicked the bucket," he shrugged as if it was incidental.

"Jesus…" She reached for David's shoulder, but he pulled away.

"At least fifteen people died. We weren't fast enough."

"Stop it," she admonished him. She grabbed im vigorously by the shoulder, turned him to face her, and urged him to look her in the eye. "And tell me, how many people did you save? A hundred? Two hundred?"

He expelled an angry breath. His tousled, sandy blond hair almost resembled a crow's nest, and his five o'clock shadow made his handsome face look unkempt. His light blue eyes stared at her with mixed despair. Meanwhile, he involuntarily stroked the small scar on his jaw.

"David, for God's sake, you’re a Hunter. I understand it's a shitty feeling, but you can't mourn every single person you can't save."

"I know," he whispered hoarsely, finally raising his head, then he shook it slightly, staring up at the ceiling dotted with tiny cracks. Emma could see his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I was just afraid something had happened to you. I was about to call Killian and the others to search for you."

"I understand and I'm really sorry. I’ll be in my room if we’re done here."

"Alright. I'm going to pack up my things then," he signaled with his head towards the pile of weapons adorning the table.

Emma nodded and picked up her bag, marching across the living room, and heading straight for her room. But before she could peel off her coat, someone outside their apartment started frantically knocking on the door.

"I'm coming!" David's voice was calm, but Emma could still see him securing his favorite rifle as he strode toward the entrance.

"David, open up! It's us!"

When she recognized Robin’s voice, her lips twisted into a relieved smile and she hurried to the front door as well.

"Hey, mate. Are you happy to see us?" Robin laughed at the troubled expression on David's face and the gun in his hands.

"Very funny." David pursed his lips, then stepped aside to let their friends in.

After Robin, Mary Margaret entered, followed by Ruby and Killian.

"We heard Emma had wandered away, so we thought we should sniff around town and look who we found!" Laughing, Ruby flicked playfully at Mary Margaret's back who grimaced as she walked away from the long-haired brunette.

Ruby wasn't exactly your average type of girl. She wore her waist-long chocolate brown hair in wild curls mixed with pink streaks. She invariably wore her favorite black leather garments: military boots, pants, and her signature black studded leather jacket. She looked like a rock star of the nineties.

"I need to make a call,” Mary Margaret said, nodding toward the kitchen, fishing her phone out of her pocket.

"Of course,” David nodded, kissed her on the cheek, and quietly closed the door once everyone was inside.

Robin, Ruby, Killian, and David took a seat in the living room while Emma joined Mary Margaret in the kitchen. Her friend walked over to the counter, unlocked her phone, but her fingers were trembling so badly that she was unable to dial.

“What’s wrong?” Emma anxiously stepped next to the brunette, who just shook her head violently, but her chalk-white face suggested the opposite.

“Didn’t David tell you?” she lifted her troubled hazel eyes to Emma. Her rain-soaked pixie-cut dark hair clung to her forehead, a stark contrast against her alabaster skin.

“What was he supposed to tell me?” she asked carefully.

“Leo was in that run-in with the wolves this afternoon, too. I just found out from Robin that he had to be taken to the hospital right after,” her voice trailed off and Emma could see her shaking.

“He’s probably fine,” she said firmly, trying to give her friend the hope she so often received from her.

“Yeah,” Mary Margaret nodded profusely, then feeling ready, she grabbed the phone and made the call.

While Mary Margaret talked to the hospital receptionist, Emma walked over to the refrigerator and returned to the counter with an unopened orange juice in her hand. She snagged two glasses from the kitchen cabinet and filled them both almost to the brim while tactfully not eavesdropping on Mary Margaret’s conversation because judging by the few words she could pick up, she was already talking to her cousin.

And it was rude to listen in.

“So, how’s our little lion?” Robin entered the kitchen with a grin and plopped casually down on the chair at the dining table.

“Fine,” Mary Margaret replied, not even reacting to Robin’s mocking tone.

It remained an eternal mystery to Emma why they disliked each other so much, but as long as they behaved in a relatively civil manner when they were in the same room together, she didn’t particularly care.

“Anyway, we need to get going soon. Someone saw some of Vampires near the nightclub. So far, they haven’t done anything that would violate the Guild’s rules, but better safe than sorry. They ordered us to look around.”

“And what about the curfew?” Emma raised an eyebrow.

“Humans are stupid. They don’t take Mages seriously. A lot of people aren’t willing to accept the existence of Werewolves and Vampires, even after what happened…”

Robin fell silent at Emma’s expression. He coughed sheepishly, then ran his fingers through his rich brown hair. “I didn’t mean to… I apologize,” he muttered and walked out of the kitchen with his head down.

“Emma…” she felt Mary Margaret’s hand on her shoulder. “Neal wouldn’t want to see you like this. You have to let him go…”

“I know… But… he shouldn’t have been the one to die…”

#cssns21 #cssns 2021 #captain swan supernatural summer #cs ff #cs fic #emma swan #killian jones #emma #emma 2020 #TWPYR #cs au #captain swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #my fic

[monstersandmaw]

Male drider x female reader - WIP, Part Two (sfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

After a teasing Part One last week, here's 3.5k words of Part Two, featuring two poems, neither of which are my own... Things get off to a very rocky start between the lord of Widowsweb Court and the reader, with the drider not exactly behaving in a manner befitting a lord... Naril, the firbolg gardener that everyone seemed rather taken with, continues to be a complete cinnamon roll.

Hope you enjoy, despite 'his lordship's' terrible manners and behaviour... Part Three has just gone up on Patreon today. He also got dubbed ‘cranky spooder’ over on our Discord server, which I adore.

Enjoy x

On the day you first met the lord of Widowsweb Court, you’d opened up one of the enormous windows to breathe a little life back into the stuffy library.

Having spent four weeks getting to know the collection as it was, you’d taken the opportunity to dust a little as well. That had the added advantage that you were now able to let the air back in without fear of choking clouds of dust billowing up into your face. For a house as enormous as Widowsweb Court, you had been surprised to learn that the staff was so minimal - no more than Naril and his father, Chiara the housekeeper, a valet of the lord whom you never saw, and two other members of staff; one a cook, and one a maid.

Standing beside the heavy, ragged old curtain that dragged its hem on the floorboards like a sullen teenager scuffing their heels, you sighed and stared listlessly out at the enormous park beyond. There was something melancholy about it. The grounds were meticulously kept by Naril, not a leaf out of place, and yet it was deserted.

There should have been parties, the voices of people laughing, the chink of glasses and the murmur of conversation in the evenings as people gathered to watch the sun go down over the stunning vista beyond. Music should have floated across the terrace behind the house, washing out to mingle with the dancing splash of water in the fountain, but that basin with its fantasy carvings and rearing stone centaurs, laughing fauns, and wide-winged harpies remained silent and dry.

“Why is it so sad here?” you whispered to yourself, the backs of your knuckles trailing down the old, warped glass of the leaded window. The shutters of this window had been thrown wide too so that you could see what you were doing, and the light poured in over one of the three long, research tables that lined that half of the dour library. Over the course of the past week, you’d stacked books pertaining to poetry up into huge, teetering piles that now looked more like a model city than anything, with skyscrapers reaching for the moulded plasterwork of the triple-height ceiling.

A low, bitter voice from behind you made you jump. “The name didn’t give it away?”

You yelped and tensed, turning sharply to find a figure occupying the shadows between two looming bookshelves. Unable to see them behind the chiaroscuro contrast in the room, you squinted. “The name?” you croaked when you’d finally recovered your senses.

A long, black, needle-thin leg emerged first from the darkness and you almost recoiled in surprise before another appeared beside it. A drider. The voice belonged to a drider. “Widow’s web…” he said in his low, gravelly voice, the tone heavy and dripping with sour sarcasm.

“Oh.” You blinked and curiosity flared in you. “Do… Do you work here as well? I haven’t met you before…”

The emerging drider stopped, the shadows still concealing his upper body, but you could see that he was one of the deadly, flash-quick driders; slim-built and light boned, and probably full of venom. You swallowed. Perhaps he was some kind of security agent? Perhaps it was his job to keep an eye on the place and make sure people kept their distance from the place. Perhaps he had come to check up on you.

For a long moment, the drider remained silent, and then without a word, he flung a thin volume onto the nearest end of the table, only a yard or so from where he still hung back, half concealed in shadow, and turned wordlessly to go. “See that this one is shelved with the rest,” he growled.

You caught a flash of red on his spider’s abdomen before he completely disappeared. His needle-clawed legs made almost no sound on the floorboards, and if you hadn’t been so stunned by his unexpected appearance and behaviour, you might have gone after him to scold him for treating what had to be a first edition - everything else so far had been - so callously. By the time you heard a sharp creak and the soft click of a secret door closing somewhere, it was too late to follow.

So instead, you left the window and picked up the book. It was an anthology of poems, and as you let the volume fall naturally open in your hands, it revealed a short, painfully bitter poem.

And like a dying lady, lean and pale,

Who totters forth, wrapp'd in a gauzy veil,

Out of her chamber, led by the insane

And feeble wanderings of her fading brain,

The moon arose up in the murky East,

A white and shapeless mass.

No wonder he was so gloomy if this was the kind of thing he read. With a sigh, you closed the book and laid it with the other poetry anthologies, and spent the rest of the day trying to shake the encounter from your mind.

At lunch, Naril leaned over the table and frowned. “You alight?” he asked. “You look kind of… far off…?” It was just the two of you that day, with Naril having come in from the gardens a little later than usual, and his father having already eaten.

You sniffed and blinked, not realising you’d been staring into your bowl without really seeing it. “Yeah,” you croaked. “Listen… I’ve not really asked about… this place much. Why is it called Widowsweb?”

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his lanky arms. He was tall, even for a firbolg, and that day he had scraped his long red hair back into a thin plait that hung down his back. His eyes, bright green, turned a little distant. “Apparently a dowager from the Silkfoot family had a falling out with her son, and he was so desperate to be rid of her that he exiled her here and gave the entire estate to his cousin who went with her. The two families diverged there, and never had anything else to do with each other since.”

So what Sarrigan had told you, about the two families being at least distantly related, was true. You wondered if the part about the Silkfoot family not liking humans had played a part in the disagreement. “I know one of the Silkfoots. Not well, but he’s a friend of a friend. He seems nice, but he says his family’s mostly awful.”

Naril was still watching you. “What’s brought this on?” he asked after a moment.

You took a breath and said, “I’m assuming your master is a drider then?”

Naril nodded. “Yeah. You… You didn’t know?”

You shook your head. “I hadn’t given it much thought, if I’m honest. Your father was the one who employed me and dealt with everything on behalf of your ‘master’. I… I think I met him this morning though.”

It was Naril’s turn to look a little surprised. He batted his long-lashed eyelids a few times and then barked a rough laugh. “Seriously?”

“Why is that so strange? He lives here. I find it weirder that I’ve not seen him yet.”

“He never shows himself to any of us. He lives in his wing of the house and literally never goes out. Chiara, and his valet Mason are the only two who ever interact with him directly.”

“Why?”

The firbolg’s surprise melted into something softer. “It’s said he’s cursed, but my father says that’s bollocks.”

“If he’s not cursed, then why? Why live as a recluse?” and why was he so rude?

Naril gave a half shrug and then stood, reaching across the table to collect your plate with his scuffed, scar-knuckled hand and take it to the sink. You murmured your thanks as you waited for him to speak, but he didn’t for a long time. You stood watching him, his shirt dirty and sweat stained, ripped here and there, presumably from the vicious thorns of the roses you’d glimpsed from the windows.

“He lost his wife and their entire clutch when they’d only been married a year or so,” he said at last. The splashing of water in the sink as he washed up almost masked his words, but something in your chest panged when you caught them. “People said he did it. People said he was cursed. People said his whole line was cursed.”

“People say a lot of cruel and stupid things,” a harsh, female voice interjected from the doorway behind you and you turned to find Chiara glowering at the pair of you. Naril cringed and turned his attention back to washing up. “You’d do well to ignore all of them, and repeat none,” she said, fixing her yellow eyes on you. The harpy’s tone was as sharp as her claws, and you didn’t fancy crossing her.

You nodded. You weren’t part of the staff, no matter how welcome Naril and his father had made you feel. You were here to reorganise the library, and then you were going to leave. You had been there for one out of your six contracted months already, and the task seemed gargantuan, but you were determined not to let it get the better of you. Time to get back to it.

“Chiara,” you said carefully, “We weren’t gossipping. I believe I met your master this morning, though he didn’t fully show himself to me. I just wondered who I’d met, that’s all.” With that, you turned and put your hand on Naril’s arm. “Listen, I’d better get going. Thanks for doing that,” you added with a twitch of your chin towards the soapy dishes in the sink.

He bowed his head, his large, cow-like ears waggling softly, and closed his eyes briefly. “Take care up there in the library, eh? Don’t go falling off something or lifting more than you can carry. You look worn out.”

“I am tired,” you said, cracking a yawn almost directly on cue. “I haven’t been sleeping all that well here. Could I borrow you tomorrow for half an hour or so? There’s a massive chest that’s been parked in front of a shelf and I need to move it to get to the books behind it.”

He grinned, his odd, almost feline nose twitching. One lip pulled back to reveal his blunt, herbivore’s teeth and he nodded. “Happy to lend a hand, you know that. After lunch?”

You smiled, feeling a slight heating of your cheeks, and turned for the doorway. “Thank you.”

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and you finally cleared enough shelves to begin putting the first phase of your plan for the library into action.

Three days later, though only as you tucked yourself up in bed for the night, you realised you’d left your phone behind in the library. Cursing, you knew you’d have to go back for it if you were going to get up in time the next day to start work. No one formally kept track of your hours, but your professional pride demanded that you start work at nine, and you didn't fancy sleeping through til gods-knew when, especially given your erratic sleeping patterns of late.

Dressing hastily in jeans and a t-shirt, you grabbed the back door key, with which Mr. Ambleside had entrusted you after your first week on site, and let yourself into the main house.

If Widowsweb Court was creepy in daylight, it was unfathomably eerie at night. Pipes creaked and groaned sporadically, and a draft whistled up the corridor as you fumbled along the passageway that would lead to a servants’ staircase, and eventually, emerged onto the second floor near the library.

Were it not for the light of an almost full moon beaming in through the windows along the corridor, you might have missed the library doors altogether, but as it was, they illuminated the brass fittings so that they gleamed like gold, sparkling and winking at you almost fatefully. You scoffed at the thought, and pushed into the library, the door giving its usual raucous yelp on the hinges.

“Gods, I’ve got to get Naril to look at that,” you grumbled, moving across the floor and wondering if you dared turn all the lights on. Part of you expected a hoard of ghostly spectres to be drifting around the shelves like shades through gravestones.

Before you’d gone three paces, you froze. The whisper of a page turning caught your attention, and you swallowed, heart thudding. Again, you were not alone in there.

“Who’s that?” a sharp, male voice demanded from a table at the back of the room.

“It’s me,” you replied, immediately realising how stupid a thing that was to say to someone who wouldn’t have been familiar with you. You added your name, and followed it up with, “I’m working on the library catalogue.”

“At this time of night?” the scratchy baritone growled.

“I left my phone in here,” you said weakly as you stepped around a bookshelf and found him standing behind the furthest research table from the door. You knew immediately who it was, and your heart was thudding as you wondered just how well the lord of the manor would take it that you were sneaking about his house at this hour of the night. “I need it for my alarm in the morning.”

“It’s over there on the windowsill,” he said carelessly, moonlight running along his outstretched arm like mercury. From what you could see of his body, silhouetted against the light from outside, he was unhealthily thin, and he had long hair that fell loose and unrestrained down his back. He was also huge. Sarrigan was squat, fluffy as a tarantula, and muscular, but this figure was spindly and ominous, and built like a black widow.

“Thank you,” you croaked. “I’m… I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

As you picked up your phone from the sill, you heard him clear his throat, and glanced up to see him shifting a little. He looked like a nightmare demon from a shadow-play, all legs and pendulous body, but something about the angle of his head gave you pause.

He took a slow, rasping inhale. “How… is the work going?”

“Slowly,” you said with a rueful smile. “Mr. Ambleside might be a little out of touch with the collection… It’s larger than I was expecting.”

After a pregnant pause, the drider snorted softly and you broke into a nervous laugh at the innocuously-spoken innuendo.

“Anyway, on that note, I’ll leave you to it. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he said and you watched him walk towards the window. As he moved, you realised what was unnerving about him. One of his legs was missing. Where most driders had eight legs, he had only seven.

You thought about him all the way back to your accommodation, and even after you’d set your phone on your bedside table and lain back to stare at the ceiling, the master of the house still occupied your thoughts.

The next morning, you found your feet taking you to that furthest table, and there you discovered that a book had been left open.

The poem that graced these pages was older by many centuries than the one about the moon. It was written in a language that had long evolved beyond recognition, but you stared at it and trailed your fingers down the verse, murmuring the words aloud in the Old Tongue. It was one you’d studied at university during one of your shorter modules, and you barely remembered any of its translation.

Oft him anhaga     are gebideð,

metudes miltse,     þeah þe he modcearig

geond lagulade     longe sceolde

hreran mid hondum     hrimcealde sæ

wadan wræclastas.     Wyrd bið ful aræd!

You frowned, muttering words aloud until you’d muddled out a tiny bit of it. “Often, the one who is alone finds grace for himself, the… mercy…? The mercy of the lord? Although he, sorrow hearted… heavy hearted?”

“‘Sorrow-hearted’ works,” came a now-familiar voice from behind you and you jumped, nearly knocking the book from the table. This time you turned to find the drider advancing on you in full view.

Slowly, you let your eyes slide up his body to his face. He wore a crisp white shirt that looked like it had never been worn, the stark, monochrome contrast with his black spider’s body almost jarring. His hair was black, with a thick streak of bright, blood red falling around the right hand side of his face, which was gaunt and sallow, with dark shadows beneath his four red eyes. Around his right two eyes, his white skin was stained dark - almost purple - down his face and a little way onto neck, the birthmark looking like a swirl of watercolour. He blinked slowly at you, as if expecting something; waiting for you to say something rude or thoughtless.

With a start, you remembered the poem, and turned back to it. “Was this what you were reading last night?”

“Mmm. You’ve studied the Old Tongue I take it?” he said, and you turned to find him approaching slowly.

You tried not to let your gaze snag on the void where his leg should have been, and instead looked at the text again. “A little, and it was a while ago. I’m rusty… I think I remember this one. It’s called The Wanderer, isn’t it?”

He nodded, his hair sliding forwards like a black theatre curtain to hide his sunken face. “Not going to chide me for leaving it unshelved?” he sneered as he turned and headed once again for the back of the library. “I never did like librarians, you know?”

Grinding your teeth, and forcing yourself not to snap something rude at the person who was technically your employer, you said, “I’m an archivist, and this is your collection, not mine. One book being out of place is hardly going to though the whole thing into chaos, is it?”

He froze, on the point of leaving, and with an almost theatrical slowness, he turned to regard you. After fixing you with his eerie, red stare, he lifted one side of his upper lip and snarled, “I suppose not.”

And with that, he left you alone and unnerved again.

Work progressed at a glacial pace on the library, but you eventually moved from poetry to non-fiction: travel journals and histories, geographical texts and maps.

Naril grabbed you one bright, weekend morning after breakfast and dragged you out into the gardens for the first time. The two of you spent a couple of glorious hours touring the kitchen garden, the walled garden, the rose garden, the knot garden, and finally the orchards and arboretum. As the pair of you walked, hot and honestly quite tired, back up to the house for refreshments, your eyes naturally found their way to the library windows that overlooked the terrace and lawn at the back of the house, and you were surprised to find them flung open.

You paused and scowled.

“What?” Naril asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I was sure I closed the windows last night…” you murmured.

“Maybe the master is in there,” he said. “You know, I think you’ve seen him more than I have now. What’s he like?”

“Sad.” That was the first word that came to mind. “He strikes me as someone who’s incredibly sad. I’ve only seen him three times now, but each time he seemed so bitter and prickly. It’s like he’s curious about what I’m doing in there, but he doesn’t want to talk to me too much.”

You passed beneath the windows and slid into the house, sighing as the air of the cool stone passage wafted over your sun-warmed skin. No more than an hour later, you found yourself back in the library, but the master wasn’t there and the window was shut again. Easing yourself down into a comfortable chair beside the casement, you let your head loll against the back, and wondered if he ever set foot outside. If Naril was to be believed, the drider never left the confines of his wing for anything other than quick trips to the library.

After a while, you found your eyes drooping, and you inhaled deeply, letting the weight of a doze seep through you like the warmth of a hot bath.

A noise stirred you, and you opened your eyes to find that the light had changed to the vibrant magenta of a clear sunset, and that you were not alone. Squinting at the shelf, with his face far closer to the books than yours needed to be to read the titles, was the lord of Widowsweb Court.

You watched him in silence for a moment, not sure if he knew you were there or not, and took in the lines of his black legs - skinny, barbed, and deadly. The chair creaked as you sat up straighter, and he whipped around, dropping the book with a bang onto the floorboards and rearing up, his front legs rising like lances ready to strike.

“Sorry,” you gasped. “I didn’t mean to make you jump. I didn’t know you hadn’t heard me.”

As he lowered himself back down, you looked up into his face and the expression you found there made your heart stop. He looked furious. “Get out,” he barked. “If you’re not working in here, get out.”

Without another word, you rose and fled the room as sedately as you could muster.

Part Three --->

To be continued next Wednesday… Part Three is currently up on Patreon so you can read it right now on the Pixies and Goblins Tier.

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

__

| Masterlist | Patreon | Ko-fi | Writing Commissions |

#drider #male drider #exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster x human #drider x human #male drider x female reader

[kassies-take]

Lost Touch

Summary: When a social experiment goes wrong, Lauren Luthor-Danvers (you) an outstanding commercial and television editor must confront her pain to accept the harsh reality of her life.

Warning: Angst, Grief, Fluff

A/n: I saw a video called "People Call Someone They've Lost Touch With" and this is my take on this.

Lena Luthor x reader, Kara Danvers x reader, Supercorp

Word Count: 929

As an editor, several hours of the day are dedicated to being in dark rooms in front of three to four screens. With commercials taking two days, 30 minute TV shows taking an average of two weeks and hour shows taking an average of four to six weeks it crumbles any time you have for yourself.

Like the famous Luthor, Lauren spends her nose in her equivalent of spreadsheets, blueprints and prototypes. She had let slip that she had a week off to her Girl of Steel and blackhole of a mother and now, she was buying take out from numeral places.

The young Luthor-Danvers knew her Kryptonian mother well and brought two wagons to balance and hold bags and boxes of a little bit of everything she could think of.

With both hands behind her back and the opportunity to not be in front of a screen, she wondered about the concrete jungle above her, the electricity box cars below her, the busy mammals around her and the white statue with a pink heart and a sign that read You've got a moment?

The editor stepped closer towards the sign and finished reading Call someone you've lost touch with and tell them what they mean to you. She shifted her wagons to park beside the statue. For a moment she focused on the birds tweeting, the wind tickling the leaves and the laughter that echoed from neighboring cafes.

She grabbed the public keypad phone and dialed a number she hasn't called in eight years.

Lauren wasn't expecting her call to be returned. She was met with a high pitch ending to the word hello. Her breath stuttered as her eye clouded.

"Hi... you don't know me but this number used to belong to my mother. I uh saw a sign in the middle of New York that said to call someone I've lost touch with and tell them what they mean to me. I know it isn't um the same but it was nice to have someone pick up you know." Lauren sniffed and wiped the streams with the back of her hand. "Uh thank you for picking up, bye."

"Hold on sweetie. Now I may not be your mother but you can talk to me as if I was your mother." The lady on the other side spoke calmly. "What's your name sweetheart?"

"Lauren, but my mom used to call me baby girl."

"Okay baby girl what do you want to tell mama?" The young girl's breath hitched.

"Hi mama. I love and miss you so much. I miss you holding me when I was upset cause there have been a lot of that since you passed. I regret not coming out to you when you were alive, I got a lot of love around me but I wished you were there. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry for everything that happened and I can't forgive myself for bailing on our mother-daughter vacation. If I had gone, the accident wouldn't have got you." Lauren sobbed and took a few minutes to breathe. "I'm sorry it has taken me so long to talk to you again. After the accident I believed if I didn't visit your grave and didn't call, you would still be at home... I got accepted and graduated NYU, I moved to New York and I have a beautiful loft. Jeju and the twins visit when they can and Holidays are still spent at Grandma Eliza's. Jeju is still the editor in chief at Catco and still saves the day. Liam took over L-Corp... L-Corp is seen as a force for good now." You cried. "Lucas is a professional MLB player he's currently playing on the LA Dodgers with the number 24, he donates most of his money to the foundations at the annual L-Corp Fundraiser Galas. I edit commercial and television shows, I'm able to give voices to people who don't normally have them. I hope you're proud of me. We all are doing okay. I love you mom."

"Baby girl your mom is not dead because of you, she's at peace because she has an amazing daughter. I know she is proud of you and forgives you for not visiting and calling. If you ever need to you can call me alright?"

"Alright. Thank you."

"Until next time sweet girl."

Lauren hung up the phone and wiped her tears away. Her eyes and nose matched the color of the wagons she has. She reached her apartment building, rode to her floor and twisted the door to her loft.

Her blond mother stood from the couch and opened her arms. The handles of the wagon bounced on the floor as the youngest of Luthor-Danvers family ran to her mother.

Kara held you tightly and swayed back and forth with a hand on the back of her daughter's head. "She's so proud of you." She whispered.

"But I'm not the engineer she wanted me to be."

"I know she is proud of you," Kara's blue eyes stared right into the same emerald Lena had. "because I am proud of you. You're making art, using your voice, telling stories and is every bit yourself. The very best parts of Lena are in you. She loves you." Kara kissed your forehead and pulled you in. 

A light touch wrapped around Lauren’s shoulder. Too delicate to be Kara’s. Lena, invisible to both girls in the room, wrapped her wings around her wife and her daughter. Her daughter may have lost touch with her but she was never had. 

#lena luthor #lena #lena luthor x reader #lena luthor imagines #lena luthor imagine #lena x reader #kara danvers #kara #kara danvers x reader #kara danvers imagines #kara danvers imagine #kara x reader #supercorp #supercorp x reader #supercorp imagine #supercorp imagines #supergirl #supergirl x reader #supergirl imagines #supergirl imagine #supercorp family #final stage of grief

[lazyangeltreemoney]

Emergency Contact

Oneshot, Rich Kid AU

Description: James Barnes has been Y/N’s best friends since they were kids, even though they seem to come from completely different worlds. So much so that Bucky lists Y/N as his emergency contact, but the spoiled rich kid has to learn the hard way that Y/N has a life too.

Pairings: Rich-Kid!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 5991

Warnings: swearing, Bucky being a brat, car crash, hospitals, character injury, police stations, ANGST

A/N: this one is angsty AF and involves two idiots being in love. also gotta love a little bit of feisty!reader, hope y’all enjoy.

“So Y/N the demo sounds amazing-” 

RING RING RING

Y/N almost jumped out of her seat trying to silence her phone. Sat in the big office, the man sat opposite her with lots of big gold records in frames behind him gave her a judgemental stare. 

“Sorry about that, as you were saying, Mr Graves,” Y/N spoke, trying to sound as professional as possible. 

She was so close, this could be it, her big break. Finally, she sat in the office with Mr Jimmy Graves, one of the biggest music producers on the scene. All the fame and fortune, she could almost taste it. It would make all those nights singing in shitty bars worth it. 

“As I was saying, the demo is amazing, your voice, out of this world, but I’m afraid that you’re not the look we’re going for at the moment.” Mr Graves finished on a low note. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Y/N choked out, no, no this couldn’t be happening. 

Just as Mr Graves tried to downplay crushing her dreams by offering her a role as a backing singer on some other artists track, her infernal phone rang again. 

RING RING RING

No longer caring about anything the man had to say anymore, she answered it. 

“Hello, who is this?” Y/N seethed out, she tried her best to not sound pissed off but she was not having a good day. 

“Hello, is this Miss L/N, I’m calling from the 87th precinct, you’ve been listed as James Barnes emergency contact, I’m sorry ma’am but you’ll have to come down to the station,”

It probably wasn’t a good idea to be speeding on the way to a police precinct but when it came to Bucky Y/N didn’t care. Parking her car up by the sidewalk, she rushed out into the precinct. When she walked in one of the detectives practically swept her up and led her to where they were holding Bucky. 

The detective looked tired and was holding a cup of coffee. As Y/N followed him down the halls towards the interrogation room he seemed to look more and more pissed off. Y/n could only assume he had been interrogating Bucky, god he could be an ass when he wanted to. She even felt sorry for the detective. 

They eventually reached a room at the end of the hall. The detective opened it to show Bucky handcuffed to the desk. The room had dark walls and a blinding white light directly over Bucky. Behind him was a one-way mirror where Y/n could see some bloody marks on Bucky’s back. His face was bruised, along with his hands looking bloody. 

“Jesus Buck.” Y/N sighed at the sight of him. 

Bucky raised his head to look at her. He was so focused on her that he didn’t even look at the detective that uncuffed him. 

“Looks like Daddy’s bailed you out, my superiors have told me to let you go… don’t let me see you again, Barnes.” The detective warned him in a low tone. 

“And I was about to add you to the Christmas card list.” seethed sarcastically as he got up out of the chair. 

Bucky knew the drill and knew where to collect his stuff. He walked past Y/N and down the corridor, completely blanking her. It’s fine, not as if I’m here to pick your ass up away. Y/N looked back at the detective who was giving her an apologetic stare. 

“You his girlfriend or something?” The detective asked. 

“Nope, do I dare ask what he was taken in for?” Y/N winced as if she was bracing for impact. 

“Assault and destruction of property, it was a bar fight that got out of hand apparently.” The detective explained. 

“Thank you, Detective.” Y/N sighed and went to follow after Bucky. 

“Ma’am if I could offer some advice, rich boys like Barnes take everything for granted, don’t let him take you for granted as well.” The detective’s wisdom, however, didn’t sit right with her. 

She wanted to argue back at him, tell him that he didn’t know Bucky but Bucky was calling her from down the end of the hall telling her to hurry up. The detective only flashed her a look of ‘I told you so’ before Y/n went racing out after Bucky. 

When Y/N got outside Bucky was smoking a cigarette. He looked a little more cooled down from earlier but still relatively annoyed. The orange embers at the end of the cigarette seemed to illuminate him in an amber glow. Even bruised and bloodied he still looked beautiful. Y/n had known Bucky since they were children and she had always thought he was beautiful. Bucky glanced up at Y/N and took one long drag on the cigarette before stubbing it out. 

“How the hell did my Dad even know I was here?” Bucky groaned as he walked with Y/n to her car. 

“You’re Dad probably knows one of the officers, still it’s nice of him to bail you out for what, the tenth time this month?” Y/N argued with him, she really didn’t want to fight with Bucky right now but sometimes it was the only way to get anything through his thick skull. 

“What does it matter to you?” Bucky argued back, stopping dead in his tracks. 

Because I care about you, you idiot.

“You know listing me as your emergency contact doesn't mean I’m at your beck and call at any point.”  Y/N tried to remind him that she had a life as well. 

“Please, I’m not taking you away from much, your nights of singing in dirty bars and songwriting for cheesy commercials are oh so important to you all of a sudden?” Bucky questioned in his ever sarcastic tone. 

“God, could you stop being such a spoiled rich kid for two seconds.” Y/N groaned

“I’m just saving you some time Doll, you really think you’re gonna make it big one day like this?” Bucky’s sarcastic questions were cutting through her like a knife. Every harsh word from him was another stab at her. How could he say such things? Had he always been this harsh and Y/N was just blind to it? 

“Just because I have to work for what I want doesn’t make it impossible Barnes, I haven’t been gifted everything I want like you.” Y/N was trying to hold back the tears, god she really hated fighting with him. 

“Y/N, that’s the only way you get anything in life, but I’ll tell you what, if you want to spend the rest of your life singing in the same bars uninterrupted then I’ll take you off my emergency contact, hell I’ll take you off my whole contact list,” Bucky yelled at her. 

Maybe it was the fact that she had just had her dreams crushed once tonight already made Bucky’s words sting so much. The fact that she had been told she doesn’t have the right look, the fact that Bucky, who had once believed so heavily in her dreams, was now trying to tear them down. Spite is an excellent motivator, however. 

“Fuck you Bucky,” Y/N wasn’t sure what came over her but she shoved Bucky into the lampost, she felt god damn feral and Bucky could only watch her in shock. “I’m going to make it so fucking big, my names going to be in lights, in every talk show hosts mouth, my songs are going to be on the radio and I’m going to sing in the biggest arenas on this planet and I’m going to earn every second of it, meanwhile you will just be some spoiled rich kid who is only known as George Barnes’ brat.” Y/N’s words dripped out of her like venom as she walked away from Bucky. 

It was only when she had her back turned could she let the tears finally escape her. She didn’t care that she was meant to pick him up, he could walk home for all she cared. Right now she needed to be as far away from him as possible. As she drove herself home could think of Bucky and how things had become so messed up. 

He was once such a sweet and kind boy, being her best friend and supporting her for as long as she could remember. She remembered the nights when Bucky wouldn’t miss a single one of her performances, always insisting every time she sang was better than the last. Now, he was almost unrecognisable. It was as if time had taken the kind boy and replaced him with a selfish and cruel man. Y/N decided that night that she didn’t need Bucky, that she was going to make it big without him and it was going to be glorious. 

The crowd applauded as Y/N bowed slightly and bid the crowd goodnight. Stepping down from the stage another singer walked up on the stage and introduced themselves. A year had passed since Y/N left Bucky outside that police precinct and she was actually doing pretty well for herself. 

Less than a month after the fight she had managed to get a job at a classy club in Manhattan full time. It was owned by a wealthy man named Loki who seemed to love Y/N’s voice more than anything else in the world. He paid her well and let her have her pick of the setlist, luck seemed to suddenly be in her favour. For nine months it was bliss… until James Fucking Barnes brought the club off Loki and became the new owner. 

Y/N had no proof but she was convinced Bucky had brought the place purely to spite her. That he was desperate to make her feel as if she couldn’t do anything without him. It’s not even as if Y/N could have left, where else was she going to get a job she loved that paid her this well? So for the past three months, she had been avoiding Bucky like the plague. Only talking to him when absolutely necessary, not caring that he was now her boss. 

Every night that Bucky knew Y/N was performing he was there at the club. Every night he would listen to her angelic voice, watch her take the crowds breath away as she sang and every night he would realise how wrong he was. Y/N would walk on stage in a beautiful dress that would always leave him tongue-tied and make his heart stop. You would think six months away from her would have given him time to figure out what to say to her… but it didn’t. How do you apologise for being an ass to your best friend for years? 

He didn’t mean to become such a monster, but power had grown on him like a tumour. He felt untouchable, nothing he did matter anymore. Any problem he had he could simply throw money on and it would disappear. Anyone he wanted usually wanted him just as much. Soon he became as cold as his money. Even his childhood best friend couldn’t make him come back to reality. 

Y/N leaving also made Bucky have another heartbreaking realisation… he loved her. When Y/N walked away from him that night at first he tried to not care. He still went out, got into fights, danced with whoever he liked and drank as much as he wanted. But none of it filled the hole in his heart. It was in a noisy night club with a girl trying to climb on his lap that he realised that he would much rather be in Y/N’s small apartment and having Y/N cuddle up against him. He missed the nights where they would talk about everything and nothing all at once. The nights where they would drink and Y/n would get the courage to show him the new songs she’d been working on. 

When he found out that Y/N was singing at the Heimdal, a club that his Dad was looking to buy, he leapt at the chance. He hoped that by becoming her boss she would have to talk to him, they would have a heartwarming reunion and somehow fall in love. However, Y/N had been cold and curt to Bucky the second he walked back into her life.

Y/N waltzed over to the bar, feeling absolutely parched after her last set. Sam, the bartender, handed her a glass of water and then handed her another drink. This one looked like some kind of fruity cocktail, definitely not what she’d ordered. Y/n shot him a confused look. 

“It’s from him again,” Sam sighed giving her an apologetic look, “It’s here if you want it.”

“I won’t.” Y/N grimaced. 

Bucky’s new tactic to get her to talk to him wasn’t even talking to her, but to have Sam always give her some fancy drink after her set. Guess he’s still just throwing money at his problems. Annoyed, Y/N sat down on one of the bar stools and took another sip of water. She knew she shouldn’t have but briefly looking over her shoulder she saw Bucky sat in one of the clubs’ booths. He did look a little better than when she last saw him. He'd cut his hair shorter and shaved his beard, that combined with his navy suit made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. 

However, the sight of a girl sat next to him, clearly trying to get in his lap made Y/N cringe. One second he was buying Y/N drinks and the next he was getting off with other girls. A small amount of jealousy boiled in her stomach… but she couldn’t say why. Y/N had watched him go on plenty of dates during college, she never felt jealous then but now she can’t stand the sight of Bucky and this bimbo. 

Y/N was pulled from her thoughts by a stranger sitting next to her. He called over to Sam asking for a scotch and gestured to Y/N.

“-And another round for the Lady when she finishes her drink.” The man spoke. 

“What’s the occasion?” Y/n asked cautiously at him with a raised brow. 

“Nothing much just heard the most angelic voice in America, is all.” The man said nonchalantly with a smirk on her face. 

A slight blush appeared on Y/N’s face and she moved a strand of hair behind her ear. No one had complimented her on her voice like that before, not even Bucky. Trying to not seem too fluster, Y/N sat up a little straighter.

“So what brings you here tonight, Mr…?” Y/N asked, giving a genuine smile. 

“Tony Stark, a friend of mine kept saying that they had an actual angel perform here, turns out he wasn’t wrong.” He took another sip of his drink and winked at Y/N. 

“Wait, Stark as in Stark Records…” Y/N whispered the last part as the realisation hit her. 

Tony Stark, the owner of Stark Records had just brought her a drink and said that she liked her voice, called it angelic in fact. 

“Yes, don’t tell me you’re going to faint.” Tony teased 

“No promises.” Y/n let out a faint laugh, still in shock.

Tony and Y/N had been chatting briefly, he asked her about what music is liked, the conversation moved onto Y/N’s original music and Tony was practically begging to hear some demos. Y/N matched his excitement, this was the happiest she had felt in so long. Tony listened to one of her songs through her headphones and he knew that she was going to be his next star. 

“So, what do you say that you stop singing for Barnes and start singing for me, I’ve been looking for a new star and honestly Y/N, you’d be perfect.” Tony offered. 

“Are you serious, you sure I don’t have the wrong look or something?” Y/N asked meekly, her insecurities getting the better of her.

“Sweetheart, anyone who doesn’t like looking at you has something wrong with them.” Tony smiled back at her. 

Many of his current stars were once like Y/N. Immensely talented but scared they weren’t the right look. Tony, however, knew from experience that someone as talented as Y/N didn’t need to follow some look. 

Y/N was about to accept Tony’s offer when she heard a giggle behind her. 

“James, at least wait till we’re back at yours.” The girl seemed to squeal. 

Even now, James Fucking Barnes seemed to be taking her spotlight. It was childish, the jealousy and silent treatment but Bucky seemed to bring out the worst in her. Y/N let out a frustrated huff and then she saw the fruity cocktail Sam had given her.

“Actually Sam, I'll take that drink,” Y/N smirked, grabbing the tall glass. “If you’ll excuse me for one second.” 

Bucky had decided to have another drink, telling himself that after this one he would finally work up the courage to talk to Y/N. That was the plan, it was the plan he had made over three hours ago, now he had some random girl by his side who was causing a scene. Bucky knew these types of girls all too well, the ones who wanted the tabloids to be going nuts with seeing a girl hanging off his arms. Bucky was trying to make it clear that he wasn’t interested but this one was persistent and the drink was beginning to catch up with him. 

Just as he was about to tell the girl to go far, far away he felt a splash of cold water on his face. He jumped out of his chair in shock and was ready to call security when he looked up to see it was Y/N who had thrown the drink of him. 

“You can keep your drinks,” Y/N began, placing the now empty glass on his table, “and I quit.” A satisfied smirk appeared on her face as she waltzed away from him. 

Bucky was gobsmacked, the whole room was staring at him, even the band had stopped playing. Bucky could only watch Y/N walk towards a man by the bar. He desperately wanted to chase after her but the girl who had been on his lap most of the night was now whining non-stop. 

“Ugh James I think some of it got on my dress, this is PRADA you bitch, JJaaammmess call security on her!” She was like an angry chihuahua. 

Y/N could hear the girls whining at Bucky and it only made her pride swell. Have fun with her tonight ‘James’. She sauntered towards Tony who could only chuckle at Y/N’s actions. 

“You’re going to be a handful aren’t you.” Tony raised a brow at her. 

“Well, there’s nothing like a good bit of publicity,” Y/N smirked. 

With that Y/N left the club for the last time on Tony’s arm and with Bucky left hopelessly behind. To her, it seemed like a fitting start to her new life. 

Five years had passed since she first met Tony. He had become her mentor, teaching her how to truly make a lasting impression on audiences and how to act now that she was under the media's watchful eye. 

With every new song Y/N released, her fame only grew more and more. In a mere five years, she had become an icon with her voice and ‘angelic’ style of dress. Tony’s words the first night she met became something of a mantra to Y/N. True to her word, she was bigger and better than she ever believed she could be. She had proved Bucky wrong at every chance she was given… even if he wasn’t around to see it. 

Y/N had just finished tonight’s performance and was cooling down in her dressing room. No matter how many times she performed to thousands of people, she still needed some quiet time after to make all the adrenaline leave her body. She’d changed out of her costume and simply had on a silk robe as she removed her makeup. The silence of the room was a stark contrast to the screaming crowds Y/N had been in front of earlier but she liked it. It was something to keep her grounded. 

Just as Y/N finished removing her makeup her phone rang. Tony made fun of her for being one of the biggest names in America and still having the same phone from five years ago. Something about the nostalgia of it was comforting. Despite her fame and fortune, Y/N never wanted to forget everything she had because she worked for it. She didn’t recognise the number but nonetheless, she answered the call. 

“Hello?” 

“Is this Y/N L/N… the actual Y/N L/N speaking?” A voice asked on the other line. 

“Yes, who is this?” Y/N replied, there weren’t many people these days who had her number.

“I’m a nurse at St. Andrews hospital, we’ve recently had to admit James Barnes and he’s listed you as his emergency contact,” 

By some miracle, Y/N had been touring in the same state where Bucky was. Tony had warned Y/N against it, telling her that the paparazzi would be on her like vultures and ‘wasn’t Barnes the same guy you threw your drink on.’ But she couldn’t just ignore him, she never could. 

Y/N tried to dress as casually as possible and wore a pair of sunglasses in hopes that she wouldn’t be spotted. As she walked up to the reception she felt like cursing whatever cruel God was going to bring James Barnes thundering back into her life. 

It just had to be from a hospital, I haven't had one phone call from him in years and when I finally do it’s because he’s hurt himself… I guess something will never change. 

Y/N told herself she would just see if he was okay if he was then she could simply walk away and never see him again. The lady on reception told her that he was in room 104, so Y/n walked down the corridor trying to hold her head high. No matter how hard she tried, there was an uneasy pit of worry forming inside her. What if Bucky was seriously hurt? What if he was dying? All the worst possible scenarios seemed to be forming in her mind. She needed to find Bucky and she needed to find him now. 

Before she knew it, Y/n was running towards his room. Acting almost on impulse she heaved the door open to see Bucky lying on the hospital bed. At first glance, Bucky seemed to be fine with only a couple of scratches and bruises on him but then Y/n looked at him properly. Maybe my eyes are playing tricks on me? But they weren’t… Bucky’s left arm was gone. 

Bucky looked up to see some girl standing in his room. She was wearing a cream trench coat and sunglasses as if she was from old Holywood. There was a second of uneasy silence when Bucky was about to explain that she had the wrong room when she finally spoke up.

“Bucky,” Her voice quivered as she walked closer to him. She removed her sunglasses and Bucky could have sworn his heart stopped beating then and there. 

He had seen so much of her, in the papers, magazines and on almost every billboard in the country. True to her word she had become a star, bigger and brighter than ever. However, no matter how many times he saw her on paper it didn’t come close to seeing her in person. 

“Jesus Buck,” She sighed when she was finally right next to him, “What happened to you?” 

Bucky looked down to where his arm should’ve been but instead all he could see was disgusting scar tissue peeking out from his bandage. There wasn’t much to say other than he had been his usual self and this time it nearly killed him. He was speeding down a dark country road without a care in the world when the car spun out of control and hit another car driving the other way. By a miracle, the other driver hadn’t been hurt but fate wasn’t going to let Bucky get away scot-free. Bucky looked back up to Y/N, he didn’t want to admit to her that after all these years he was still being an idiot. 

“You were right you know, you made it bigger than anyone ever thought you could be and you did earn every single bit of it all by yourself,” Bucky began to speak. His voice sounded rough and strained as he talked. Every word that came from his mouth seemed to break Y/N’s heart. 

“You were right about me as well… I’m nothing more than some spoiled rich kid.” Bucky seemed to hang his head in shame. 

“Oh, Bucky, you’re so much more than that,” Y/N instantly felt the guilt from their argument wash over her. In all these years she never considered that what she said might have hurt Bucky. 

“No I am, I’m pathetic... I can’t even hold you in my arms… I always thought the next time I saw you I would get to hold you-” Bucky choked up, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. 

Y/N’s heart broke at the sight. Acting as if no time had passed, Y/n kneeled down next to him and took his head in her hands, wiping away his tears. 

“I’ve felt so numb for so long Y/N, I haven’t felt anything in five years until you walked through that door,” Bucky admitted. 

“You have no idea what it was like to hear your name for the first time in five years, pretty sure my heart stopped.” Y/N’s face carried the same pained expression as his. 

That was when it dawned on Bucky, he never did remove her from his emergency contact. Part of him was beginning to wonder why she had suddenly appeared in the hospital. An awkward silence fell between them. They hadn’t seen each other in so long and they didn’t part on the best terms but right now Bucky needed Y/N. He needed the girl who became his friend when he was 11, the girl who cared for him more than words could say but also called up out for all his bullshit. So that’s when he asked her,

“I know I have no right to ask you, but please don’t go, please?” Bucky begged. 

At that moment Y/N released how broken Bucky was. In all of her life Bucky seemed to demand everything, so used to having everything at his beck and call. This was the first time in her life she could recall Bucky actually asking for something.

“I’m not going anywhere Bucky, I’ll always be here for you when you need me.” Y/N told him. 

She meant it with every fibre in her body. There was some cruel silver lining in this whole story. That this tragic night needed to happen to bring them back to each other. Y/N stayed with Bucky all night, even when they tried to kick her out after visiting hours, Y/N merely dropped her name and they let her stay all night. 

Bucky had been given some heavy pain meds and was fast asleep but still, Y/N refused to leave his side. He could have died tonight. Those words played over in her mind like a bad record. It’s what made her realise that she had spent over six years without her best friend. That she had abandoned him when he needed her the most. Y/N didn’t even have a good reason for abandoning him other than pettiness and stubbornness. 

Then Y/N’s phone rang, it was Tony and Y/N already knew he was going to be pissed. 

“Hey, Tones,” Y/N answers trying to sound as sweet as possible. 

“Well if it isn’t my Darling protege, tell me Y/N in all teachings have you truly learnt nothing?” Tony’s sarcastic tone made Y/N pull away slightly from the phone. As badly as she wanted to hang up on him then and there, it would have only made him angrier. 

“Tony,” Y/N sighed down the phone, hoping she could calm him down. 

“Oh no you’re not talking your way out of this, there’s currently about 100 reporters and paps outside the hospital as we speak and they’re sure as hell not leaving without some answers,” 

Y/N tried to cut in but Tony was very clearly not finished with his rant. 

“-Answers as to why The Y/N L/N suddenly ditched her own after-party for some random guy in a hospital bed, what Bonzo story are you going to try and float here?” Tony groaned down the phone. 

“I don’t know, okay!” Y/N yelled back, her sweet exterior finally broken down, “He just called and I came running, it’s always been the same old schtick… it’s like I can’t fucking help myself,” Y/N’s voice wasn’t as harsh as Tony’s there was still a magnitude in the words she said. 

She could have simply not come and told the lady that Bucky was trying to pull a fast one but she didn’t. Instead, she put everything in her life on hold just to make sure he was okay and the worst part? She would do it again in a heartbeat. 

“Look I can take care of the reporters, claim that it’s a close family friend but I need you to do something for me,” Tony sighed, “I need you to promise me that you won’t give everything up for him… whatever you two have isn’t worth losing everything you worked for.” 

Y/N didn’t have the strength to keep arguing with him or anyone else. Going through the motions, Y/N simply hung up and looked back up at Bucky. He was fast asleep, the pain meds kicking in at last. That was when an awful thought hit her, she could leave now… he’s alive, you’ve done your duty… but then what? Wait another five years until he gets hurt again? She wanted to stay for him but it couldn’t be like last time. Things needed to change. 

When Bucky woke up it was nearly 10 am, man the pain meds must’ve knocked him out cold. He glanced around the room, there were nurses, monitors and IV drips all around him but no Y/N. Had she snuck out in the night? Bucky couldn’t have blamed her if she had, one night wasn’t going to make up for the near-decade he had spent being an ass. 

“Rise and shine, Handsome,” A nurse called over to him as she checked over his vitals. 

Bucky could only give her a small nod of acknowledgement, his mind too preoccupied with Y/N. 

“Something on your mind there, handsome,” The nurse kept pestering him. 

“His name is James,” 

Bucky pushed himself up to see it was Y/N standing by the door holding a coffee and a couple of bags. Her tone towards the nurse was flat and unamused. Something that made Bucky smile properly for the first time in years. The nurse finally left but not before telling Bucky he could simply ‘buzz’ for her at any time, in a sultry voice, a voice that made Bucky feel like spiders were crawling up his back. 

Y/N was giving the nurse a death glare until she had finally left the room. Letting out a small huff, Y/N placed the cup of coffee down on the table and started going through the various shopping bags she had, silently. 

“You don’t have to be jealous,” Bucky spoke, 

“I’m not jealous,” Y/N muttered as she continued to go through the bags. 

“Yes you are, you’ve got the same look on your face as you did when you saw Cindy Schatt’s kissing John Rider,” Bucky chuckled at the memory of that pool party at his house decades ago. 

Y/N just remained silent, trying to not make eye contact with him. Bucky knew that she only did that when she knew he was right but didn’t want to argue. To be completely honest, Bucky didn’t want to argue either. He felt that they had wasted too much time arguing and swallowing their feelings, far too much time. 

“I love you,” Bucky stated, his voice calm, clear and confident. 

Y/N’s hands suddenly stopped moving. All the cogs in her brain stopped working as she tried to comprehend what Bucky had just said… he said he loved her. Slowly, she glanced up and allowed her gaze to meet him. 

“Y/N, I love you so please don’t waste your time being jealous over some nurse,” Bucky repeated, making it clear to Y/N that he had no hidden agenda. 

“How should I spend my time then?” Y/N murmured. 

“Tell me you love me back,” Bucky breathed

“I’ve always loved you, that’s the problem,” Y/N sighed, why did it always seem to end in a fight with him. 

Bucky felt like the oxygen in the air was suffocating him. God, with every other girl in his life it had always been so easy bit with Y/N he never seemed to be able to find the right words to say. What annoyed Bucky the most was how simple things could be, she loved him and he loved her. This was supposed to be where they would finally get their happy ending, the boy finally confesses his love for the girl and they crash into each other and kiss while the credits roll. 

Y/N looked up at Bucky trying to gauge his reaction. Surely her confession couldn’t have surprised him so much. Was Bucky that clueless? All those nights she came rushing to his side when he was being a reckless idiot? Did he just assume she would do that for anyone? Bucky, however, looked completely at a loss. That was when Y/N said fuck it. 

She walked over to Bucky and kissed him. Y/N cupped his cheeks and kissed him like it was the last time she would ever see him… she hadn’t quite made up her mind yet if it was going to be. Bucky kissed her back so desperately, convincing himself that her kiss was more vital to him than breathing. When Y/N finally pulled away slightly for air, Bucky couldn’t help but reach up for the taste of her lips again. 

But then he noticed Y/N pull away slightly further, her hands still cupped his cheeks as if she never wanted to let go. But at the same time, she didn’t want to give all of herself to him, not anymore. 

“Doll,” Bucky whispered. 

“I just- I just can’t let it be like last time, James,” Y/N whispered back. 

“Never, I will never be like that again, it’s already cost me far too much and I’m sure as hell not losing you again,” Bucky’s eyes were just as glassy as her’s, tears threatening to spill at any moment. 

Y/N wanted to tell him how he never truly lost her but Bucky didn’t give her the chance. He kissed her, somehow even more feverishly than last time. They parted panting and forehead resting against one another. It wasn’t the kindest of reunions but it was certainly the sweetest.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #ceo!bucky #ceo!bucky x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #avenegrs #marvel #winter solider x reader #richkid!bucky #singer!reader #tony stark x reader

[send-me-your-hcs]

Mafia boss Tony sends his son Peter away at a young age to live with his aunt and uncle. Every month he goes to visit his son. Maybe he takes Peter somewhere nice like the movies or Central Park. Without fail, their nights together always ends with Tony balls deep in a sobbing Peter. A support check arrives for Peter the next morning.

Oh fuck me I love this prompt. Ty anon

Warnings: Age unspecified Peter but IMPLIED very underage, incest, noncon, creepy dark bio dad!Tony, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

“You’ve grown.”

The boy sinks lower in his chair, attempting to hide behind the other side of the table. He still hasn’t looked Tony in the eyes once since he picked him up from the Parkers’. It goes beyond Peter’s regular shyness - the boy is fidgety, morose. A typical teenager, maybe. Except that he’s not.

When Tony gives him an impatient look, Peter meekly shrugs, responding without responding. He’s always been a very quiet boy, but the silent treatment is especially irritating. Tony takes a sip of his wine in an attempt to crush the feeling. Their visit’s only just begun. It’s too early to fight.

When the waiter comes to refill his glass, Tony says, “And one for him, too.” Peter looks up, shocked, adorably concerned, but the waiter doesn’t bat an eye as he fills the empty wine glass beside his iced tea. This isn’t the first time Tony’s brought his son here. Even if it had been, everyone knows they’d lose a lot more than Tony’s business if they dared refuse his request.

Peter stares at the glass once the waiter leaves. Tony smiles at him as he sips his own, but the boy’s gaze is fixated. “Drink up,” he orders softly, watching the worry deepen on Peter’s handsome face. He doesn’t move. “Drink it, Peter.”

The boy’s hands shake as he lifts the heavy glass to his lips. Everything about it reminds Tony how young his son is - the way his face scrunches up at the taste, the way he carefully lifts the glass by the bowl with both hands, not trusting himself to use the stem. The way his hands look terribly, unbelievably small, his fingers short and thin as they wrap around the wide bowl beneath the rim. He truly is just a little slip of a thing. Bigger than last month, sure, he’s at that age. But only just starting the long ascent into adulthood.

It’s only been a month since they last saw each other, but already, Peter’s hand-me-down clothes are fitting just a little better than they were before, not as loose and baggy around the ankles, not hanging as low down his thighs. The Parkers tried to dress him up, as they always do, but they seem to have some aversion to using Tony’s money to buy his son nice things. The button-up shirt and dress slacks they wrapped him in are clearly Ben’s, trimmed and hemmed amateurishly to fit tighter on Peter’s skinny body. Any charm the look has is only attributed to the fact that it’s Peter wearing it.

“Apparently I need to take you shopping,” Tony muses, mostly to himself. “Drink, Peter. We’ll have a different wine when dinner is served.”

Peter takes a long, deep breath through his nose and lifts the glass to his lips again, then steels himself and gulps the rest of the burgundy liquid down. Tony chuckles, pointedly not mentioning that the alcohol is going to hit him much faster now, and lets the boy go back to sulking, tense and silent, in his chair.

—

After dinner, Tony loads a wobbly, light-headed Peter into his car and drives him to the Hall of Science. Peter is a little more animated as they walk around and take everything in, but Tony suspects that’s mostly the alcohol’s doing. The boy still hasn’t said much and he shies away when Tony wraps an arm around his shoulders, flinching at the contact. Tony buys him a little souvenir at the giftshop and ruffles Peter’s hair when the boy mumbles a quiet thank you.

They don’t say a word on the drive to the hotel. Peter’s never once asked why Tony doesn’t bring him to the penthouse during their visits, and Tony’s in no hurry to tell him. If the Parkers have told his son what he truly does for a living, behind the scenes, Peter’s never acted differently for it. He’s still the same sullen little boy he’s always been.

The room Tony rented is a bright and vast penthouse suite that costs more money per night than the Parkers pay for their monthly mortgage. The California King bed stands in the middle of the main room like a centerpiece, drawing your gaze to it as soon as you walk through the door. Tony suspects that’s not the reason Peter hasn’t taken his wide eyes off it. He stays huddled in the foyer, fidgeting with the toy Tony bought him at NYSCI, looking terribly lost.

Tony pours himself a glass of scotch at the bar and pulls his tie free from his neck. “Come here, Peter,” he calls gently, watching the boy teeter and debate whether or not he should obey. In the end, he knows there’s nowhere else to go. He keeps his head down as he shuffles his feet forward into the room, like he’s dragging himself towards his father.

Tony sips his drink and looks the boy over. He’s growing up. Every month he gets more beautiful, his features filling out to define his gentle face. If he resembles anyone in their family, it’s Tony’s own mother, with that soft head of hair and big, dark bambi eyes.

He cups the boy’s chin, thumbing over his bottom lip. Peter’s eyes are already glazing over with tears. It makes Tony’s skin itch, all the little hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Peter has always been so receptive to him. Always reacting. Feeling. Submitting.

He takes the back of the boy’s head to hold him still, grip tightening ever so slightly as he leans down and kisses him.

—

Harsh, labored breaths ghost over the pillows Peter’s face is buried in. Tony trails kisses over his shoulder blades, hips still gently rocking as he rides out his orgasm. Peter’s knuckles are bone-white as they clutch the sheets, strangling the soft material for all he’s worth.

Tony pants against his son’s back. The silky clutch around his softening cock is absolutely divine; warm and dripping wet where they’re still sealed together. Peter’s back trembles as he struggles to hold in his hiccuping sobs, making his tight skin dance across Tony’s lips.

“My good boy,” Tony sighs happily against Peter’s glistening skin. He kisses him again and grinds his hips against Peter’s ass, grinning when the boy whines and shivers. “Did you get off, honey? Did you come for Daddy?”

Peter gives him a stiff, curt nod, but when Tony wedges a hand beneath his hips to his pelvis, he finds his cock still hard, the tip leaking. He clicks his tongue in disapproval and wraps his hand around the boy’s shaft. “Peter. Why are you lying to me? It’s obvious you didn’t come.”

“I don’t want to,” Peter slurs into his pillow, pleading. “I just wanna go to sleep now, Dad, please.”

“That would be rude,” Tony scolds, pulling back so he can roll the boy over. Peter is quick to bury his face in his arms, trying to hide his tears, as if it’s the first time he’s ever cried during sex, and not the norm. “Let Daddy make you feel good.”

The whimper that leaves Peter’s pink little mouth when Tony swallows him down is gorgeous. He encourages Peter’s hips to rock upwards, rutting against his face, until the broken sobs turn to pleasure-filled groans. Tony trails his lips up to the head of Peter’s pretty little cock and back down, sucking hard, smiling when Peter’s hips stutter, his orgasm fast approaching.

He pulls back in time to let the boy finish all over his cute little belly. Peter’s labored breaths return to quiet sobs, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip hard enough to pierce the skin. “Don’t do that,” Tony says, pulling Peter’s lip from his teeth with the pad of his thumb. “You’ll leave a mark, Pete.”

Peter drops his arms from his face. His eyes stay glassy with tears and glued to the ceiling as Tony wipes the come from their bodies with Ben’s old dress shirt.

“I’m going to give you a little extra this month,” Tony says as he tosses the filthy shirt away. “I want you to use it to buy something nice to wear for next time. Don’t let May talk you into buying something big enough to grow into - I’m going to give you extra for a tailor, too. I want you to see one before I pick you up next month. Got it?”

Peter says nothing, his gaze still stuck to the ceiling. The goddamn silent treatment. Tony snaps his fingers in front of the boy’s face and says, “Pe-ter. I’m talking to you. Did you hear what I just said?”

A shiver wracks the boy’s body. He turns his wet-eyed gaze back to Tony’s face and nods, sullenly.

“Good. And you’re going to be a good boy and do as Daddy says?”

There’s a beat of hesitation. Then another nod, Peter’s lips parting so he can softly mutter, “Yes, Daddy,” before closing his eyes and turning away.

#starker #tony x peter #tony stark x peter parker #ru answers #anonymous

[cashmeremars]

𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 || 𝐚.𝐚

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: archie andrews x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: reader gets attacked at Fred’s construction site and is severely hurt

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst, violence (you literally get jumped so..), fluff, set in season 1

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.3k+

𝐚/𝐧: the way this was requested in 2017 oof 

***

The crackling of the fireplace was subtle as the mellow flames dimly lit the room. The stars outside were almost completely visible through the slightly frosted windows of the warm building. Soft music played in the background as the sound of gentle chattering fluttered throughout the room. Off in their own corner of the room was a young couple exchanging whispers and gazes to one another. Anybody could tell they were in love with one another as their hearts melted like chocolate under the sun.

“Hey, thanks for helping out today. It really helped in moving things along. I think my dad likes you more than me now.” Archie laughed softly as he held your hand in his. Archie looked across the small brown table as he stared lovingly into your eyes. Two cups of warm coffee sat between the two as Archie wrapped your fingers around his.

“Thank you, Archie. You know I’d do anything to help you and your family out.” you smiled, steam blowing lightly away from your face as you spoke. You smiled up at Archie when he started to rub your fingers with his.

“I’m just glad it took a lot less time than it usually does. Things have gotten so stressful this year and it’s nice to have another pair of hands helping, especially if it means I get to spend more time with you” Archie spoke with a small smile. You felt your heart flutter lightly at the words. 

“Easy win-win for you then. It’s getting pretty late isn’t it?” You asked as you turned to look at the old clock hanging on the wall

“Yeah. Do you wanna get a ride or something? I can drive you back to my house or you can stay at my place tonight?” Archie spoke

“Archie, I live like 3 seconds away from you, and I have my own car” 

“Sorry, I guess I was being a bit of a clingy boyfriend” Archie nodded his head downwards with an awkward chuckle and what seemed to be a light blush.

“Don’t apologize. It’s cute that you care so much for me” you smiled as you got up and grabbed your things. As you were about to walk away, you felt a slight tug on your arm that forced you to avert your attention towards the boy

“Hey, be safe okay? I’ll see you tomorrow” Archie spoke softly. You turned towards him and gave him a quick peck and two gentle pats on his cheek before turning back towards the door as you gave your goodbyes to everyone else.

***

You shivered as a cold air lingered up your spine, rattling your bones one by one as you took your first step out of the cabin. You wrapped your jacket around yourself tightly as you looked around standing on the porch of the cabin. It was dark, which was expected as it was nearly midnight. The cold air had left signatures of your own breath fluttering around your head. Leaves scattered the ground as autumn was among them, along with something much darker. 

You sighed once more as you made your way down the creaky cabin steps on the way to your car. Just as you were making your way to the parking lot, a twig snapped in the distance. You whipped your head towards the noise, squinting as you looked into the gathering of trees behind the cabin before turning around. You figured it was just another construction worker in the background. You continued to make your way to your car before stopping. It was almost as though an ominous silhouette had been shifting behind you on the path. You shuffled your feet slightly to turn once more before an abrupt rush of pain made its way to your forehead. It was as if 100 baseball bats had been battered against your head. You sharply cried as you fell to the ground. Blood started to rush down your forehead as you clutched your head in pain. Through the gloss of your eyes, you were able to make out multiple feet gathered around your body. A swift kick to your stomach stopped you from yelling for help. Then there was another kick, and then another, until it felt like the kicks would never stop. Your blood mixed with dirt as you could do nothing but cry.

“Help! Someone help me please!” You managed to croak.

“You’re on your own, darling” One of the attackers said before spitting on you and cackling along with the others. 

Fists connected with bones as feet were rammed into flesh. You couldn’t move, and you certainly couldn’t fight back. One final kick to your face had sent you into the depths of unconsciousness, you could faintly hear the cabin door slam open before the voice of your boyfriend was heard. 

It was funny how fast circumstances could change. One second you were surrounded by an atmosphere that screamed love, and safety. A place filled with comfort, a place that was warm, a place that was kind. But it was all just a blanket of security. A blanket that was ripped out from over your body, exposing you to the trouble that lurked just around the corner. Now you were on the ground in a puddle of your own blood. Nothing to protect you, forced to face the harsh realities of life on your own. The harowest of realities. You were in the dark. 

***

Streams of harsh light filtered through your eyelids as you began to regain consciousness. The blood rushing rapidly to your head and the abrasive thumping of your brain had caused you to wince and shut your eyes once more. You let a quiet groan as you felt your eyes welling from the pain once again. The aching and pain prickling at your body had hit you all at once. Every bruise, scratch, and cut could be felt simultaneously, almost knocking the breath out of you. You flinched slightly as your tears slid down over the bruises on your face. 

“Darling?” a soft voice spoke in the corner with a sniffle

“Archie?” you whispered as you attempted to turn your head towards the source of the voice

“Oh my god, you’re awake” Archie sighed as he frantically moved to your bedside, quickly placing your hand in his

“How did I get here?” You ask with a squint. The white lighting in the hospital room was not easing your pounding headache.

“Some guys almost beat you to death when you were walking to your car, when we finally got to you, you were passed out so we drove here as fast as we could”

“Right” you spoke, your eyes welling up with tears as you remembered the utter fear that submerged your body

“It’s my fault” Archie spoke quietly before turning his head away from you

“What are you talking about?” you ask, trying your best to get him to face you once again

“If I hadn’t let you stay with me that late at night, you would’ve been home. Safe. From whoever the hell was trying to hurt you” Archie explained as a tear fell silently from his face and onto the white blanket draped on your body

“Archie-” You whispered

“No. It is my fault. I should’ve walked you to your car, or taken you home myself. But all I did was tell you to be safe, and let you go. Then the exact opposite happened” From the corner of your eye you could see Archie’s fist turning pale as he tightly gripped the side of your hospital bed.

“Archie. Please don’t blame yourself. It really wasn’t your fault. I’m also not in the condition to comfort you anyways” You said as you weakly reached your hand out to him

“Right, sorry” he said before quickly wiping a tear and dragging his chair closer to your bed

“It’s fine” you said as your eyes began to flutter closed again

“Gosh, I just hope we find those assholes that did this to you so they can rot in prison” archie said as he roughly dragged his fingers through his hair

“It just happened so fast, Archie” you said after a beat of silence. The slight waver in your voice caused Archie to glance up at you immediately

“What?” He asked as he leaned in closer to you

“One second I was just walking out of the cabin, and then I got punched in the face. Then beat to the ground. I felt helpless, Arch. I couldn’t do anything, I could barely even yell for help. I’ve never felt so weak and useless in my life, Archie. At that moment, I felt like I was going to die, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I just had to hope that it would be over soon, or that someone would come and rescue me. I hate that I couldn’t defend myself, and I had to wait for someone to find me. What if it happens again, and I’m completely alone? I wouldn’t be able to do anything. Do you know how quickly they could just kill me, Archie? I wouldn’t have a choice but to accept it. I can’t do anything for myself. I’m hopeless.”

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t say that. It’s okay, you’re not weak. Quite frankly, there isn’t much people can do when they’re literally being jumped by several strangers. Don’t feel bad because you couldn’t defend yourself, and please don’t feel bad that you “needed saving”. You’re not going to die, alright? The only thing that matters is that you’re alive, and I will do anything to make sure this doesn’t happen again, to you or anyone.” Archie said before planting a soft kiss on the back of your hand. At this point you were nearly sobbing as you couldn’t stop the tears from falling. You finally got to take a good look at Archie and saw that his eyes were a vicious red, indicating that he had been crying the past few hours. Archie gazed at you softly as tears of his own began to slip down his cheeks.

“Thank you, Archie. I love you” You whispered, continuing to gaze into his eyes.

“I love you too” Archie uttered back as he softly caressed the back of your hand, just as he had earlier today.

The door opened slightly before a concerned head peeked through.

“Is everything okay in here, Archie?” Fred asked before diverting his attention to you,“Oh, you’re awake?” He said before lightly slipping into the hospital room.

“Yeah, I was just asking how she was” Archie explained, looking back at his father quickly before returning his attention to you

“Do you mind if I have a minute with her, Archie?” Fred asked timidly as he shoved his hands into his pockets 

“Yeah, sure” Archie replied hesitantly before getting up to leave.

Fred watched as Archie left the room, only turning his attention to you once the door had shut.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, taking a seat that Archie had just occupied

“Fine” You muttered before pursing your lips together and staring up at the ceiling

“Really?” He asked, raising an eyebrow in concern

“It hurts. A lot. That’s all I can really say about it.” You spoke once more

“Listen, darling, we’re gonna do everything in our power to find whoever did this to you, and make sure that they face the consequences they deserve. There will be no mercy for whoever harmed my future daughter in law” Fred said sternly, contrasting the worried look that engulfed his features.

There was a long pause of silence as you processed what he had just said to you.

“Daughter in law?” You asked meekly, finally turning to face him.

“Oh, right. Too soon?” He asked with a slight chuckle

“Not at all. It has a nice ring to it” You said with a fond smile

“Good. I’ll make sure you stay alive long enough to make it official” He said in an attempt to lighten the mood. You laughed softly before you spoke once again, “Thank you, Mr.Andrews”

“Anything for my future daughter in law” He replied with a wink before heading out of the hospital room.

***

Archie entered the room almost immediately and headed straight towards you. 

“What did he say to you?” He asked as he noticed the warm smile adorning your bruised face

“Oh, uh, nothing” You said, trying and failing to hide your bliss.

“Really? He walked out of here with a weird smile on his face. Seemed a bit smug.” He explained with a brow raised in suspicion.

“It was nothing too important, Archie. At least not yet.” You said before turning your head to the ceiling once again and shutting your eyes.

For as long as you were in the dark, Archie would be the light that would guide you.

***

a/n: sorry if this was weird but i don’t even watch riverdale anymore lmaooo. i might have been a bit detached writing this lol.

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#riverdale #archie andrews #fred andrews #kj apa #riverdale fluff #riverdale angst #riverdale smut #archie andrews smut #archie andrews angst #archie andrews fluff #kj apa smut #kj apa fluff #kj apa angst #riverdale fanfic #kj apa fanfic #archie andrews fanfic #riverdale imagine #riverdale oneshot #riverdale fanficiton #kj apa fanfiction #kj apa imagine #kj apa oneshot #archie andrews fanfiction #archie andrews imagine #archie andrews oneshot

[sign-from-god-complex]

Self-Control

Summary: The sound of footsteps pad across the landing above and though Virgil has come all this way he’s suddenly struck with the feeling that he’s not ready. It’s been 15 years since they’ve seen each other—so much can change in 15 years; so much has changed in 15 years.

Though, maybe things haven’t changed quite as much as Virgil thinks.

(AKA, a past-punk moxiety AU)

Pairing: Moxiety!

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, smoking, homophobia and nondescript injury. Vague allusions to past abuse (or at least mentions of terrible parental figures). Brief discussion of a parental figure having died.

AO3 Link

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It isn’t at all the place Virgil imagined for him. The flower pots all sit in a row on the steps, red ivy climbing up the fence like spider webs and a garden hose curled up on a perfectly manicured front lawn. Everything about it is picturesque—almost to the point of insanity—and as a butterfly floats by and lands delicately on a ladder leaning onto the fence from the backyard, Virgil wonders what in the world could have changed Patton so drastically to have led to this.

There’s an image, in his head, of teenage rebellion—of 2 am milkshakes and stolen bicycles, of broken glass and laughter, so much laughter, as they took advantage of what time they had left to live. It doesn’t fit in with this pastel blue sky in this pastel blue neighbourhood full of pastel blue people but he knew that it wouldn’t. He knew things would be different.

Though, that doesn’t make it all that much easier to comprehend.

Vaguely, Virgil hears the sound of excited squeals coming from the yard and he ducks his head over the fence just a bit, catching sight of a young girl flying off of a trampoline at a hundred miles an hour—hair a mess and grin bright.

The kid must be Patton’s—it’s unmistakable, that dark skin and reckless look, like she’s ready to take the world on at any moment—and Virgil can’t help but remember the nights the two of them spent drinking and talking and vowing to never tie themselves down to anyone or anything. 

He supposes no one really does know what they want when they’re young.

It takes Virgil a while to gather up the courage to knock—he’s all too aware of his leather jacket and patches, his dyed hair and piercings. He couldn’t feel more out of place in this suburban neighbourhood and he hadn’t thought that around Patton he could ever feel out of place.

In the end, though, the choice is taken out of his hands. The young girl throws open the door, clearly looking to haul ass across the street to the park—the kind of place he and Pat would have smoked, once upon a time—but is stopped short as she notices Virgil standing in her way. There’s a moment where he’s afraid she’s going to scream or cry or something else he would have no clue how to deal with but instead, she just grins cheekily.

“Dad!” she yells, barely turning her head to face the soft white interior of the house, “There’s a man here for you!”

The sound of footsteps pad across the landing above and for a moment Virgil is so afraid that he’s gotten the wrong house or that Patton won’t want to see him and though he’s come all this way he’s struck with the feeling that he’s not ready. It’s been 15 years since they’ve seen each other; so much can change in 15 years.

“Riley, what do you mean? What ma-”

And then, there he is.

His face is void of any of the makeup he used to wear, his hair faded from turquoise to its natural black and left curly in a way he wouldn’t have been caught dead with once. And, over the top of a graphic t-shirt displaying some characters Virgil doesn’t recognise and unripped light-wash jeans, Patton had thrown a familiar blue flannel.

Virgil remembers that flannel, worn under heavy coats to help fight the evening windchill, tied around Patton’s waist as they scaled fences just to see if they could and left in a pile on the floor in his room as they finally escaped back to comfort and warmth. Honestly, he’s just surprised it still fits.

Patton does nothing but stare at him for a moment, his lips parted in shock and his eyes big and wide and god, looking at him now is like falling in love all over again.

“Virge?” he breathes, a melody of disbelief in his voice. Virgil can’t exactly blame him—it isn’t as if he’s someone Patton was expecting to see.

Virgil rubs over the fabric of his jacket, a nervous tick he’d had even back then. “Hey, uh… surprise?”

And in an instant, has Patton pitched forward right into his arms. Virgil catches him—of course, he catches him, he’ll always catch him—and Patton laughs, displaying some level of joy Virgil hadn’t known he’d needed to hear until now. He can feel Patton breathing against his neck as they hold each other and, distantly, the sound of light footsteps echoes away and up the stairs.

They pull apart, eventually, the separation like trying to peel a sticker off of a concrete wall—the easiest kind of graffiti to enact while still being tricky to remove. The distance Patton puts between them seems almost reluctant and Virgil wishes he had the courage to tell him to stay.

“What are you doing here?” Patton asks. It’s soft, like the white fuzzy carpet of his new home and Virgil realises suddenly he’d been so caught up in him that he’d forgotten that this him wasn’t the same.

Patton had always been soft but not soft like this. He’d been soft in redirected conversation and distractions, in Virgil’s favourite TV show on in the background and stolen chocolate bars in his pocket, guiding hands mimicking steady breathing. This Patton seems soft around the edges—worn down, almost—and Virgil feels those 15 years as more of a lifetime.

He doesn’t answer the question—truthfully because he’s not sure how, not sure where to start with the mess of events and near-misses and regrets that finally brought him here to Patton’s doorstep—and instead replies with one of his own. 

“My mom died. Did you know that?” It’s a stupid thing to ask, they hadn’t spoken to each other in 15 years, there was no way he could have known. Virgil asks it all the same though. “I have her money now. Didn’t write me out of the will even after everything we went through. Guess she didn’t want how much she hated me and my “lifestyle” to come out even after she’d kicked it.”

Patton just looks at him. There’s something sad in his eyes, maybe, something regretful or sympathetic, something holding years worth of apologies and love confessions in not so many words that every night they'd pretended they hadn’t said.

Maybe not, he isn’t sure. He’s never been very good with stuff like that. 

“You owe me a party,” Virgil continues impulsively. Patton grins and shakes his head and the urge to kiss him is so strong for a moment Virgil can’t breathe. “You promised me when she was dead and I didn’t have to worry about her anymore we’d have a party. With cheerio sausages and expensive liquor and-”

“Sparkling juice and bad karaoke,” Patton interrupts, “I remember.”

Nobody speaks. Patton doesn’t invite him in and Virgil doesn’t ask for fear of being turned away. 

He knows there’s an element of worship in the way he looks at Patton. It’s worship like the way farmers pray for rain in a drought, worship like how sailors are drawn to the rough turn of the sea and worship like teens relishing in the night when they’re bored and alone and angry, yearning for freedom that only comes in years they feel they don’t have left.

But now, dark eyes gazing at him and breath catching in his throat, Virgil thinks maybe he isn’t the only one who feels it.

“I have a kid now, you know?” Patton asks and Virgil knows instantly that question isn’t about the party but everything that comes after it—all of the hundreds of possibilities that stem from this decision that neither of them can quite voice out loud, “Single parent. I made a lot of bad choices in those 15 years—gave myself away to a few people who didn’t deserve it, maybe—but she’s… helped. I want to be better for her.”

Virgil nods. It’s a little hard to reconcile teenage Patton with this one but he tries anyway. He has to; he owes him that much.

(In truth, he owes him so, so much more than that but right now this is all he feels he can give.)

“Yeah, uh, Riley, right? Seems like a sweet kid, if not a bit mischievous.” Virgil smirks slightly, somewhere between teasing and nostalgic. “Kind of like you were.” 

At that, Patton grins and he laughs and it feels right—feels like early morning rainfall and crackling log fires, like the burning in your lungs as you run and the way your eyes slowly drift shut against your will when you’re up too late, like every ending and beginning in just a moment. 

He shakes his head again, almost affectionately chastising and there’s a stuttering of Virgil’s hand as he goes to reach out, to brush a strand of hair away from Patton’s face but stops himself halfway through.

Patton doesn’t seem to notice. Virgil once thought Patton never noticed—never saw the longing in his eyes and the flushed red of his cheeks as they sat side-by-side on a park bench in the middle of winter, running from the heat of harsh words and high expectations.

He wonders if maybe that was naive. 

“Well, I’ve gotta make sure to raise her right,” Patton jokes and his smile is amused—fond and familiar like the worn leather of Virgil’s jacket between his fingers, “If she’s not questioning authority and getting me called down to the office at least once a term then I’m doing something wrong.”

With that, there’s a flash—just a moment—of principal visits and angry rants, of cutting class to sit with the other in the silence of the school office and knowing, that outside of the two of them, there was no one else to come. And he thinks of Patton—this Patton, not his Patton—taking up the empty space of that office with kind reassurances and defensive words, protecting and protecting and protecting, fighting for Riley the way he had Virgil.

Parenthood suits Patton more than he’d first thought, perhaps.

“Ah, office visits.” Virgil nods sagely and can’t resist the quirk of his lips as Patton giggles. “A hallmark of a punk child. Next thing you know she’ll be dyeing her hair, running off to the park in the middle of the night to meet up with boys.”

It’s obviously a joke but still, Patton quietens, taking on a more contemplative look. It seems as if he’s remembering something and Virgil needs, all at once, to make sure he’s more to Patton than simply that expression on his face in the midst of just another day.

“Yeah,” Patton finally says, “Yeah, she was thinking purple actually.”

Virgil doesn’t reach up and drag a hand through his own purple hair but it’s a near thing. He hums—soft and low. “Good taste.”

A heavy silence rings in his ears—an echo of all the memories they share and all the memories they don’t, a collision of black and pastel blue on a canvas already painted with teenage angst and first love—and Virgil can't stand the way it feels like it may be too much to overcome. It isn't; he won't let it be.

He takes a step closer and Patton doesn’t move away, just lets Virgil crowd him against the doorframe till their chests are pressed together and each shuddering breath is a joint effort.

“I’d like to get to know her. If you’ll let me,” he murmurs and he’s so close that he can hear Patton’s heartbeat pick up as he slides a hand up to brush at the strands of hair against Virgil’s neck.

The air between them is tense and pulled tight—gazes tracing over freckles and foundation, their skin warm with each point of contact and the rushing of blood in Virgil’s ears drowning out the pounding of his heart. Each second that goes by without comment feels to Virgil like sinking into quicksand, like fingers losing their grip on the edge of a building and threatening to let him fall.

But, before he can draw away, throw up his walls and stumble his way through apologies like they’re nothing more than kids again, Patton tugs him forward and, softly, he brings their lips together.

The kiss is a teenage fantasy come true, the culmination of every moment—under streetlights or under blankets or under nothing more than the cover of night itself—where Virgil longed to reach out and tell Patton that he wanted to kiss him until the world faded away and all that he could focus on was the taste of cherry red lipstick and the joy and love pounding in his chest like a second heartbeat.

It's the comfort in late-night knocking, Patton taking Virgil in and patching him up and holding him as he cries because he has a mother that doesn’t love him and a father that’s always absent and a world that doesn’t care, muttered reassurances a quiet backdrop to his sobs.

It's the warmth in drinking their way through meagre retail paychecks, Patton’s soft touches like fire against his skin and the thread of restraint holding Virgil back from blurting out a love confession worn down to something as thin as a spiderweb and just as delicate.

It's the exhilaration in grocery store runs with no money and bags filled with spray paint cans, their gloved hands clasped tight as they race against the biting evening wind, giving in to the urge to let out a cry of victory that bounces off the empty alley walls.

So, yes, it’s the culmination of years of pining but it’s more than that too. It’s an apology, it’s acceptance and it’s an offer of a future, to stay here with them. 

“I think I’d like that,” Patton gasps as he pulls away and Virgil’s so enamoured even after all these years that he barely knows what to say, “For you to know her, I mean. She’d like you. She’s like you, or at least the way you used to be—always a bit loose with self-control.”

Virgil doesn’t tell Patton that all his self-control had been going towards keeping himself from telling him he loved him. He doesn’t think he’d know how.

Slowly, Virgil blinks and he nods and it’s all he can do to keep himself standing as Patton beams up at him with a smile reminiscent of stars colliding—bright and beautiful enough to take his breath away. And suddenly Virgil feels like maybe he can fit in here, that maybe he can fit in anywhere he needs to if Patton keeps looking at him like that.

He smiles back, smaller than the one he’d received but the way Patton’s eyes light up makes Virgil feel like maybe that doesn’t really matter. “Okay, yeah. I want that; I want to stay.”

“Okay,” Patton parrots and he’s barely holding back giggles, Virgil can tell. It’s okay though because he feels it too—that sense of happiness and disbelief that has almost no other way to present itself—and giving in feels more like an inevitability.

So, laughing and hands joined together, Patton pulls Virgil inside to the soft white of his suburban home. And he closes the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @mutechild @super-magical-wizard @shadowsfromthesun @teadays @sandersships @camcam774 @autism-goblin @deadlyhuggles6 @romanthestarstruckqueer @whispers-stuff-in-your-ear @rainboots-are-for-snobs @welpweregonnadie @spirits-in-my-thoughts @hold-my-hat @goodandbadisallmadeupnonsense @stop-it-anxiety @figurative-falsehood @jadedfantasies231 @idosanderssidespromptssometimes @poisonedapples @sanders-screams @another-sandersidesblog @do-not-just-see-observe @mychemicalpanicattheemo @harleyquinnamiright @localtransgrape @fandomsofrandom @gattonero17 @airiervessel @ollyollyoxinfree @tired-and-probably-crying .

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #moxiety #patton sanders #virgil sanders #lo can write #blease read this guys I worked really really hard on it #they're just. soft and in love #virgil has Many Feelings

[curiosi-tea-writes]

Surprise

Pairing: Din Djarin / Cobb Vanth

Modern AU

Summary: Din has never been a fan of surprises, he just doesn't like them. He'd much rather be on the giving side of said surprises, especially when it came to surprise dates with Cobb. But what he didn't know is that sometimes it pays off to have a good surprise.

(Aka, the author wanted to nerd out about space and Din is a perfect outlet. And if you have never been to a space museum before, you should.)

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

"Are you gonna tell me where we're going?" Din asked as he turned away from the window to look at Cobb.

Cobb chuckled and reached across the center console and took Din's hand. He interlocked their fingers and brought it up to his lips and gently placed a kiss to his boyfriend's knuckles. Din felt his face warm up as it always did when Cobb repeated the innocent and simple action. He found it terribly unfair that his boyfriend had so much power over him. "Would you please calm down, Darlin'. You're gonna love this."

It wasn't that Din didn't trust Cobb, of course he did. He was just typically the one to make the plans. But this time Cobb was the one to do it. Cobb was the one who asked Peli to baby sit for the day. He was the one who tossed Din's NASA hoodie at him and told him to get ready. He was the one who insisted on driving so Din wouldn't deduce where they were going. Its just that-

"I don't like surprises, Cobb, you know that," he mumbled.

Cobb chuckled and shook his head. "Trust me." He let go of Din's hand as he made a turn into a mostly abandoned parking lot behind a large building. Din couldn't see any sign of where they were. Though, he supposed that was Cobb's plan.

Once the car was parked and turned off Cobb turned happily towards Din. "Are you ready?"

Din chuckled nervously. "I suppose I have to be."

With both of them out of the car, Cobb led him until they were just about to round the corner. "Alright," Cobb spoke as he made Din stop walking. "Close your eyes."

Din's shoulders dropped. "Seriously?"

"Just do what I asked," Cobb pleaded.

"Technically, you didn't ask," he pointed out with a smirk. Cobb glared at him but a smile played on his lips that betrayed his upset look. "Okay, okay, grumpy."

Cobb held tight around Din's waist as he guided him. Din's grip on Cobb's 'free' had was tight as he tried not to stumble, not trusting his blind footing despite being guided. He felt the warm air of inside the build hit his face, a harsh contrast compared to the nippy winter chill outside. Excitement finally began to creep into Din's chest and replaced the anxiety. Din tried not to be sad at the loss of warmth when Cobb stepped away.

"Okay," Cobb stated happily and Din could hear his smile. "Open your eyes."

Adjusting his glasses, the first thing that really caught his eye was the dark ceiling which had small white lights sparkling another darkness. It took no time at all for Din to realize the lights made constellations and his smile grew impossibly bright.

He quickly snapped his gaze to Cobb's who stood beside him smiling anxiously.

A moment later Din was excitedly pulling Cobb to the different rooms. Cobb let his boyfriend read him all the plaques but it wasn't much of a choice, Din always spoke so dramatically when he read things at museums.

They floated from room to room as Din pointed to different parts of the model space ships and told him specifically what each piece and how they worked. Meanwhile, Cobb listened intently, taking in every single word.

"See this gold thing?" Din said quickly as he pulled Cobb across the room they had just entered to another model. When Cobb nodded he squeezed his hand and continued. "Its instructions!"

"Instructions for what?" Cobb tilted his head and took a closer look.

"For a record!" Din was suddenly extremely grateful that they were practically the only people in the museum so he could properly nerd-out. "They wanted to make sure that if there was life out there," he gestured vaguely up towards the sky, "that they'd be able to play the record. This was the case for the records."

"That was smart of them," Cobb stated with a nod and Din pulled him over to a plaque that had pictures of the records and began explaining what was on them. He could listen to Din talk about this kind of this for hours. This date was as much the perfect thing for him as it was for Din. When he talked about space he just got a sparkle in his eyes that nothing else could possibly compare to.

"So do you think there is actually life out there?" Cobb waved his hand, mimicking the action Din had done moments before.

"I mean probably," Din stated as they moved around the room. "I mean, there's so much out there, there must be something else. I'm sure in some galaxy far, far away, there's a whole bunch of planets with life on them. We just haven't found it yet."

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

"Did you know-" 

'Probably not but you're gonna tell me,' Cobb thought with a chuckle. 

They were walking down a long hallway to go to the next room. Din, still holding his boyfriend's hand, was walking slightly in front of him backwards, practically skipping. "-that if the sun’s diameter were eighteen and a half inches long, the diameter of Earth would be roughly that of a bb-bullet?”

Cobb could only laugh and shake his head. "What do you ever plan to do with all this space knowledge you've got up there?" He reached up with his other hand and ruffled his dark mop.

"Tell it all to you, obviously," Din said happily. "I can shut up if you want," his walk slowed a bit as he said it and his smile faltered just slightly.

Cobb squeezed his hand with a smile. "Don't you dare, Darlin'. I want to hear all of it."

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

About two hours later they were walking through the gift shop, Cobb watching as Din adjusted his glasses the way he did when he was focusing. Cobb excused himself for a moment for one last surprise while Din looked at the trinkets.

When he came back, he came up behind Din, placing a hand on his back looking over his shoulder. "Find anything you like?"

Din excitedly showed him a keychain with a plastic Saturn on it with a sweet little smiley face and a stuffed astronaut for Grogu. When he turned to head towards the register, he realized Cobb was holding a bag. "What'd you get?"

Cobb shushed him with a chuckled and waved him off towards the counter.

When Din returned, fumbling with his keys to add his new keychain. Cobb wrapped his arm around his waist and guided his boyfriend over to a bench where they had a clear view of a large screen showing a sideshow of pictures taken by the Hubble telescope.

Once they were comfortable and Din placed his keys back in his pocket, Cobb reached into the bag and pulled out a silver and red package. He laughed as he handed it to Din to inspect.

"Astronaut ice cream?" Din gasped which only made Cobb laugh harder.

"Its neapolitan, its your favorite," Cobb pointed out.

Din took a minute and just smiled at his boyfriend. After a moment he pulled out the second package in the bag and laughed before handing Cobb his freeze-dried peaches.

They sat in mostly silence, Din eating his ice cream sandwich and Cobb eating his peaches. Cobb would break the silence every so often to ask a question about the picture currently on the slideshow and Din would happily answer it.

Cobb took a slice of peach and offered it to Din who simply opened his mouth and let Cobb feed it to him. They both laughed for a month before Din copied the action, giving Cobb a bite if his ice cream.

"What would a peach and ice cream taste like together?" Cobb questioned.

Din gave him a slightly disturbed look. "Not good," he stated simply.

Cobb examined his last peach slice thoughtfully. "You don't think it would taste like peach ice cream?"

"No," Din scoffed. "It would not taste like peach ice cream, Cobb."

Before Din could even think to object, Cobb was grabbing half of the last bite of ice cream sandwich he had in his hand. Ignoring his boyfriend blatant protests and claims that it would not taste good, Cobb stuck the peach bite into the ice cream and popped it into his mouth.

They were both silent for a long moment while Cobb ate the combination. "So?"

Cobb hummed and finished the bite. "Not bad actually."

All Din could do was just shake his head, laugh, and eat his last bite.

Cobb and Din made their way out of the space museum hand in hand and walked happily back to the car. Once they were back inside the car, Din placed a hand on Cobb's wrist before he could put the key in. Looking over to see why Din had stopped him, he was pleasantly surprised by Din sliding his hand against Cobb's cheek, pulling him in for a soft kiss. It didn't last long but when they broke they rested their foreheads together. Din gently ran his tumb against the scar on Cobb's temple and smiled softly.

"You know," Din whispered, not wanting to speak too loud and break the moment. When he paused for a second longer than necessary, Cobb hummed, prompting him to continue. Din chuckled lightly. "I think I might like surprises more than I thought."

With another gentle kiss, they pulled away and headed back.

Cobb's heart ached in the best way possible when he dropped Din off at his apartment. Din with his cute thick black glasses and the stuffed astronaut tucked under his arm for his son, and his nerdy NASA hoodie. All Cobb could think about was how precious he found the other man. And how incredibly lucky he was to have him.

(Sources for fic below.)

“Both Voyager spacecraft carry identical copper disks that are specifically encoded with sound recordings and images from Earth. Each record is inside a protective aluminum jacket. [See picture above.] Symbols on the cover explain the origin of the spacecraft and how to play the record.”  -NASA/JPL - Caltech

Assignment done by yours truly in astronomy class. The dot in the center is a bb-bullet representing Earth and the yellow paper (with an 18.5″ diameter) represents the sun.

#marshalorian #dincobb #din x cobb #din djarin #cobb vanth #the mandalorian #star wars #nerd din #Han writes

[feralrosie]

Fairy Lights

Hewwo @damagecontroldumortain happy (late) valentine’s day! I’m sorry it took so long, but here’s your @loveinwayhaven gift ♥ hope you like it!

The Wayhaven Chronicles Adam/Janey (F!Detective) Words: 2600 Rating: G Tags: Fluff, lots of fluff; Valentine’s day Read on AO3

On second thought, maybe she was the one delivering spring to that place.

**

It took them a little over one hour to arrive at the botanical garden just outside Wayhaven, although Detective Kingston insisted that they could have done it in less time, if it was not for Adam’s careful driving. Of course, he was very confident in his own skills, but it was the reckless attitudes of humans on the road that could endanger this trip—mission. That could endanger this mission.

“You know that I’m going to drive on the way back, right?” Janey joked as soon as they parked by the gates of the garden, where vines intertwined along the fences, chipping the white paint to expose the coppery colour of the metal underneath.

“I am far more qualified to drive. I have better reflexes, sight and training.” His tone was as stiff as his muscles, button-down shirt marking every line of his chest as he turned off the Agency’s SUV. “And besides, a vehicle this size is too big for you. You wouldn’t reach the pedals.” 

“How dare—” 

“Let’s get going.” A hint of a smile formed on his lips as he pushed his aviators up the curve of his nose and got out of the car. Was fast enough to walk around it and open the door for the woman, offering a hand for support as she jumped out of it. “Mind your step,” he mumbled, but her attention was already focused on the garden ahead. 

Despite the ancient appearance of its entrance, the place itself was impeccable. A path of cobblestone, with no signs of moss, guided the guests among thousands of trees, contouring an icy lake in the middle of the park. The woods, dark and imposing, also had trails of its own, winding through in irregular shapes. In a bright late afternoon such as this one, the scene was idyllic. The sun leaked through the canopies, trying to deliver life to the garden, but meeting the silent landscape of dormant bushes and leafless trunks covered in glittering snow instead. Only the pine trees tried their best to add some colour with strokes of dark green reaching the clear blue sky.

Must have been a gift for the garden to welcome the deep red of Janey’s hair among them. Adam noticed, as she led the way in front of him, how contrasting she was to the scenery, bursting with life and colour. Even the soft breeze that danced around them and waved her locks seemed to agree that whatever beauty nature had was no match for her.

“Alright,” Janey clapped her hands while turning on her heels to face the Agent, pulling him back from his thoughts in a startle. “What are we looking for, exactly? What do we need for this mission?” 

Ah, yes, the mission. It was more like a simple task, really. Recently, a lesser kingdom of fairies took residence in Wayhaven, attracted by the Detective’s powerful presence, but even a small town like that could overwhelm such tiny creatures, and so the Agency needed to find another place for them. 

“The Firefly Fairies will need a place safe from humans,” Adam stated, wrapping his coat around his torso and crossing his arms. “But it must also be a place safe from this weather. Perhaps somewhere distant from the pathway.” 

She agreed with a simple nod, and in no time they were walking side by side into the woods. If it was just her body heat or something else, Adam could not tell, but the cold was not so harsh next to her. Maybe this was the reason for the fairy kingdom being drawn to her in the first place; she felt comfortable and welcoming to everyone with her charm and friendly personality. It was impossible to not let yourself be engulfed by someone like her, and Adam wasn’t the only one who felt like that… Right?

“I must apologise, Detective.” He broke the silence between them after a few minutes, not because it made him uneasy, but quite the opposite. Janey aimed a puzzled look at him, waiting for him to proceed. “Surely I impeded other plans you must have had for today.” 

“What do you mean?”  

“It is Valentine’s Day, is it not?” The words almost got stuck in the back of his throat, suddenly dry. “I believe many consider this to be a special date.”

“Oh.” The sound escaped from her lips, and Adam couldn’t help but to look at her for just a moment. Her heart was beating a little faster, which explained the rosy colour forming on her cheeks—delicate and unexpected, but not slightly fragile. “Don’t worry, I didn’t have any plans.”

“Hard to believe—” 

“And even if I had,” she bursted, shoving her hands inside the pockets of her jacket. Their gaze met for such a brief moment that he thought he imagined it when those light brown eyes faced the path ahead once more. “I would rather spend the afternoon with you, anyway.”

He came to a halt, as if the words had taken him off balance. The idea of inviting her to spend a couple hours with him, not for a mission but for leisure, was not new, and crossed his mind multiple times (it was, what, the third time that week?), but the implications that Janey might actually have accepted if he asked sent a wave of electricity down this chest. Could it be that she also noticed the date on the calendar and agreed to come along in this foolish mission because of him? 

True that her presence was everything Adam had in mind when preparing for it. He was hoping that she would accompany him to this botanical garden, under the excuse that she, as a Wayhaven citizen, had been there before and could guide them better. But he was an agent and had a job to do. No matter how much she instilled wonderful and alarming new sensations in him, he should focus on the task ahead.

“How about this place?” Janey was a few meters away, and Adam didn’t have to force his feet to reach her. She was pointing at a lonely oak tree, large enough to accommodate a house for humans. A kingdom of fairies would fit there just as well, except… 

“This tree is in a clearing,” he said, resting his hands on his hips and taking a look around the place. “They would prefer a denser area, with more flowers.”

“What about that one?” 

Adam’s gaze followed where she was pointing, taking its time to also notice that she was not wearing any gloves. Felt an urge to hold her hands, take them closer to his lips and blow gently a warm breath to provide her just a glimpse of the comfort she brought him. 

“Adam?” He might have taken too long admiring her fingers, and when Janey called again, the icy green eyes finally landed on their next destination.

A greenhouse on the other side of the park.

“Worth assessing the place. Lead the way.” 

Janey’s subtle frown, followed by an amused smile also did not pass unnoticed. Adam knew she was studying him, from the way he talked to how close he was to her—that’s how Janey was, always attentive to people, always curious—and should probably have figured out he was acting different. His mind was not where it should be, and it was showing. 

So much so that Adam couldn’t even describe the landscape on their way to the greenhouse. As they crossed the garden, only the sound of Janey’s voice asking questions about the fairies would take shape in his memory. Her voice, and the feeling of their elbows touching here and there occasionally, fluttering the rhythm of their breaths.

The last rays of sunlight had sunken down behind the trees by the time they arrived at the greenhouse. The place was enormous, made entirely of glass and decorated with an iron structure painted in white in art nouveau style. The rounded edges and curvaceous geometry felt organic, as if the building was a living part of the garden, housing an astonishing amount of plants like a nursery. Adam had to take off his aviators to take a proper look at the explosion of colours and shapes of every single bloom, realising in a second that Janey didn’t have the same advantage. 

“Well, it’s dark here.” She pointed out, pursing her lips while looking up as if to check for the lightbulbs. “Weird that there’s no one here. I was expecting some couples, or at least the scientists that work here.” 

I’m glad there is no one else here, Adam wished to say, but instead he followed the obvious, most logical response, “It is already late to be so far away from the city. Everyone must have left a few hours ago.” 

He searched for the switch, a small thing hidden behind a bush by the front doors, and turned the lights on. Expected to see the usual fluorescent white from the Facility, but watched as hundreds of tiny yellowish spots popped to life all around them, bathing the greenhouse in warmth. Strings of fairy lights followed a design like the canvas of a tent from the external walls to the central piece: a weeping willow tree, so tall that its canopy filled the space of one of the three glass domes on the roof. 

Upon reaching the tree, the lights seemed to transform into vines, embracing the branches and falling along the dangling leaves like a waterfall. There was no magic in the entire botanical garden, but the look in Janey’s eyes as she admired the images around said otherwise, as if Adam had just brought her spring itself as a gift. He might just have, if such a thing was possible.

“Will this be enough for them?” Janey asked, voice low and smooth, lost in the glittering lights.

“For whom?” Adam returned, lost in the shine of her eyes. 

“The fairies, of course.” And she giggled while approaching him, suddenly locking her gaze on his. “What else do they need?”

“Well, they have enough water and flowers here,” his feet moved by an unconscious desire, “There is shelter from the external weather and…” he swallowed hard, unsure if he should continue but, eventually, he did, "A lot of space for partying." 

“Partying?” 

“They are known for hosting week-long dances. Love to drink and to waltz.” 

“I never really learned how to waltz.” Janey’s voice was only a whisper, eyes drifting away from Adam’s and reflecting the hundreds of lights around. He, however, was not paying attention to anything else but her and the way her lips curled up, almost in slow motion, overflowing with warmth. On second thought, maybe she was the one delivering spring to that place. “Must be wonderful to see.”

“Truly beautiful.” Not even Adam could conceal what he meant. He had no interest in the practices and lifestyle of fairies or of any other creature, and despite being an admirer of arts, it was clear that something else was marvelling him. Someone else. His breath of confession drew her back to him, and disarmed by hypnosis, he bursted, “Would you like to try?”

“What?” She took another step closer, graceful as a ballerina.

“Waltz.” Words seemed to tangle on each other before leaving his lips. “With me.” 

From the moment he suggested going on that mission, Adam had done nothing but improvise. All the control he kept for over nine hundred years was slipping through his fingers, he could not think strategically anymore, and it was infuriating how he could not—simply could not—keep himself away from the detective. She was a fire burning inside of him and he should be turning to ashes by now. And yet there he was, surrounded by light and that warmth that was not coming just from her body heat. 

He waited for an answer, pursing his lips in a thin line, questioning his careless attitudes, feeling like his chest was about to set alight, and—

“Yes. I would love to.” 

A sigh of relief came from both parts, tension crumbling like a sand castle. If Adam was going to be that reckless, then so be it. 

He ventured forth, right hand falling featherlight on Janey’s waist. She held his other hand, resting her palm on his and falling into his arms completely. Not once they took their gazes out of each other, eyes heavy-lidded when Adam began to lead them in circles carefully, slowly, like she was made of crystal. Terrified of breaking her. 

It was nothing close to the waltz of the royal palaces of Vienna during the New Years, and much less to the Russian ballet, but still nothing felt wrong. Janey was tiny compared to him, his large hand spread almost entirely over her upper back, but it was her delicate fingers pressing into his shoulder that made him feel safe. The way she would not shy away from him, how she would spin on her axis every time he stretched out his arms just to pull her back closer and closer, was like magic of its own. Perhaps he was enchanted. She could have bewitched him. Or maybe, just maybe, it was something else. Something he was afraid of saying out loud, of letting it take form, but undeniably something he could not, would not, control. 

Their feet moved together with remarkable precision, as if the spring of the greenhouse itself choreographed their movements, and even the floor felt softer. Janey slipped her fingers up to his neck, brushing his skin and leaving a tingling sensation before resting on his nape. A shiver ran up his spine, sharp enough for her to feel the dark blond hairs rising. 

Their dance concluded slowly when Adam bowed down, holding her firmly in his arms as if laying her gently on a mattress of clouds. Janey held on to him, trusting him entirely, and didn’t let go afterwards. With no one to witness, their world felt silent, existing only in each other’s embrace. Adam saw when her lips parted just enough, hesitant, getting closer, increasing the thundering sound, trying to tear open her chest like a war drum so powerful that it could make him dizzy.

“Do you hear my heartbeat?” she whispered, eyes locked on his.

“Yes.” 

“Can I listen to yours, too?”

“Yes...” 

Janey wrapped both arms around his neck and rested her head on his chest, nose tip carefully fondling his sternum. Only then, with her cheek pressed against his white shirt, Adam realised that the drumming of hearts was a duet. His own perfectly synchronised to hers, still dancing, and he couldn’t help but to wrap his arms around her as well. In a garden of blooms, they formed a bud—secret, beautiful and new. He wished to stay in spring, with her, forever.

Alas, they were both ripped apart from dreaming when a too-loud bzzt bzzt emerged from the agent’s pocket. Distracted by each other, both rushed to untangle themselves quicker than their blood could colour their faces. Adam turned on his heels, reaching for the damn phone and answering the call.

“Commanding Agent du Mortain.” 

“Adam, it's Nate. I’ve been trying to call for a while, is everything ok?” 

A deep sigh left his lungs, “Yes, Nate. Everything is fine.”

“Are you still with Janey? Did you find a good place?”

He looked over his shoulder, gaze meeting Janey’s again. A shy grin on her rosy cheeks invited him to smile too, and so he did.

“Yes, Nate. I believe we found the perfect place.” 

#the wayhaven chronicles #adam du mortain #janey kingston #love in wayhaven #my writing #valentine's day #gift exchange #i must say i love Janey #I hope she's not too ooc #had a lot of fun writing it #💖💖

[elsanna-shenanigans]

June Contest Submission #12: Boom Boom Pow

Words: ca. 3,300 Setting: mAU Lemon: lime CW: sand, alcohol, beanbags, dash of lime, language

“Do you like the stars?”

“Anna it’s fucking noon, the sun is up, it’s bright as shit. Why are you asking about stars?”

“Yo, my dude, chill. The sun is a star… right?”

Elsa rolled her eyes and turned up the radio, blasting 80’s music, but only the good songs. “I don’t know why I agree to come with you on these things.”

At this Anna laughed and danced a bit offbeat to the song that was playing. She didn’t know the lyrics, but the bass line was nice and she could vibe with that. She let the whole song play out before answering.

“Because you loooove me” She sing-songed, earning another eye roll from the driver. “You love me and we’re going to the beach and it’s going to be a good time.”

“If I didn’t love you, would it still be a good time?” Elsa asked, smirking.

As a response, Anna reached over and changed the radio. A loud, bass-heavy rap song overtook the speakers. The signer immediately spitting out questionably appropriate lyrics for the radio. Elsa’s face reddened under her large glasses and she reached to change channels so quickly that she turned it off. Enveloping the small sedan in a brief silence till Anna’s laughter filled the space.

And it went on like this the entire car ride, bits and pieces of random songs rapidly changing. Anna would allow something Elsa liked to play out entirely but when it was her turn she either skipped around or Elsa changed the station for her. The older woman apparently hated both rap and country music. The first part Anna didn’t understand and the latter, she agreed with. She was desperately trying to find a gospel station, just to see her sister’s reaction, but she found nothing but commercials.

Finally, she heard what she was looking for and turned to see Elsa’s reaction just as the other girl reached over and turned the radio off again. Anna was going to protest when she realized they were in a drive-thru.

“What can I get started for you today?” a tired-sounding voice asked over the intercom.

Anna leaned over Elsa to get closer to the open window and thus the speaker box. Making sure to be just close enough to be annoying.

“We would like to get married please, with Elvis if you have him, if not we’ll take what you have.”

“Anna!” Elsa exclaimed, slapping her on the shoulder.

There was an audible sigh come over the loudspeaker, “Ma’am this is a Wendy’s.”

“Oh right, then I’ll take a cheeseburger and a medium Coke, no ice. Thank you!”

“Anything else?” the tired voice asked. “I’ll have the same thing.”

They continued driving towards the beach after the drive-thru. Cupholders full of sodas in flimsy paper cups, and Anna’s lap full of white paper bags of greasy food. She kept sneaking a fry when she thought Elsa wasn’t looking. But it was a small car and Elsa could see every bit of fried potato Anna took.

The closer they got to the beach, the darker the sky became. Tall looming clouds crept over the horizon. They couldn’t see the beach yet as it was the east coast, and most roads took you to the beach straight on instead of winding down cliff faces like the Pacific was famous for. But still, the clouds loomed. Elsa knew there was a storm somewhere off the coast, but it seemed far away last she checked, which wasn’t today. She refused to check the weather today for fear of bad news.

On the main highway, traffic was starting to get heavy, more tourists were headed for their long-awaited vacations and the road ahead was either congested to the point of slowing down. Or there was an accident and everyone had to slow to a crawl to creep a glance at the carnage.

Thankfully the girls weren’t tourists, unthankfully they lived close to this tiny town that became a major city in the summer months. Having to deal with millions of tourists every year meant that locals had a series of short-cuts. So when traffic started building, Elsa took the next exit rather suddenly, cutting across the solid white lines and nearly missing the crash barrier.

“Elsa! Shit! What the fuck!” Anna yelled and shot out her hands with nearly inhuman speed to catch the drinks before they spilled out of their too-small cupholders. “There’s a backup, I’m not sitting in that,” Elsa replied, taking the next turn so hard that the car nearly tilted on two wheels.

“But I saw flashing lights, it could have been a firetruck!”

“It could have been a police car…”

“But Elsa you don’t understand, the hot firemen! …and women.”

“Anna I’m not sitting in traffic for 30 minutes or even longer, just for you to ogle at people in uniform.”

Anna took another fry, “Not people in uniform, F-I-R-E-M-E-N and women. It is very different.”

Elsa let out a heavy sigh as they came to a stop at a red light. “If I buy you that stupid Australian calendar will you shut up?”

“Wow, harsh.” Anna dramatically threw one braid over her shoulder. “But, yes.”

Again, Elsa rolled her eyes and continued forward when the light changed. It was only a short while later that they left the main road and turned into a small, older housing development. The narrow street lead them all the way to the ocean, coming out on the far end of the main strip. Highrise condos and hotels dotted the skyline to their left, but right in front of them was the beach, concealed behind a short sand dune. Because life is a bitch like that sometimes.

Luckily for them, there was also free parking at this end if you didn’t mind a bit of a walk. Which, for the price of 17 bucks to park next to the beach, who wouldn’t mind the walk. 17 dollars could buy many cheeseburgers, Anna pointed out.

The beach wasn’t nearly as crowded down where they were, away from the boardwalk and the hotels. The sand also happened to be rockier, rough and pitted with long-forgotten footprints and broken shells. The beach groomers didn’t come this far. Which was fine by them, they would take a rough sandy beach with fewer people over a crowded hellscape any day.

There’s nothing more relaxing than simultaneously listening to eight different speakers all playing different music. While children screamed for no reason and the air was filled with a mix of sunscreen and cigarette smoke.

So yes they will miss out on the hot lifeguards and yes there will be fewer people to watch. But you can’t put a price on the quiet and the fresh air that this section of the beach had to offer.

After crossing the highway on foot, climbing the dune, and laying out their towels, only then did they pause to look out on the water. The ocean was angry, white caps dotted the surface as far as they could see. The horizon line was blurred with fog or rain and the dark clouds from before were more ominous than ever. Why the two women didn’t notice all these signs until now was some kind of act of God. Or stupidly. Probably the latter.

The beach itself was even more sparsely populated than normal. A smart person would have gone home after seeing all the warning signs. But this was Anna’s only day off for the next few weeks. And Elsa, well Elsa was too stubborn to admit her beach idea was a bad one.

They both laid down, on separate towels, choosing to ignore the warning signs and attempting to soak up as much sun as possible before it was swallowed by the coming storm. Elsa tried not to think about it too much. Neither was sure how long it had been before they were interpreted.

“What are you two gay ass losers doing?” Came a female voice.

“Ch’yeah it’s like gonna rain bruh.” Said a male’s.

Elsa opened one eye to see her cousin and her boyfriend, or so it fiancé now? Standing over them. The sky beyond them somehow looked even darker than before, which was very rude.

“Trying to enjoy the sunshine, obviously.” She mumbled in response.

“What sun?” their cousin asked, in a weird out of place, and badly performed accent.

“Wait but what is that voice?” Anna asked, sitting up and brushing the sand off her arms. How that girl could get sand everywhere, Elsa would never know.

“It’s like our new characters,” Eugene answered, earning not an eye roll from Rapunzel but a nod of approval.

“I’m New York and he’s Los Angeles. Both strong and independent cities that you could almost say are their own character. And those characters are us.” She added

“Why though?” Elsa was also now sitting up and confused, though nowhere near as sandy because she wasn’t a dirt gremlin-like her sister.

“Because we wanted to be unique characters, otherwise we’re just boring white people and where’s the fun in that?” Eugene or rather Los Angeles answered.

“Oh boring, like you watch Star Trek and try to fit it into everything even though it has no business being there?”

Eugene shot Anna finger guns, “exactly, this one gets it… bruh.”

A boom was heard in the distance and it sent a few people running towards their cars, towels billowing behind them. A long-distance away, over the water, there was a flash and with it, the wind picked up.

“Looks like our beach day is ruined, I’m sorry Anna.” Elsa stood and began to roll up her towel. Even with the limited sun, she was already red on her front, making a stark difference to the pale skin of her back.

“Nah we just getting started, come back to our place and play some ping pong. We just pulled the table out of storage.” Rapunzel aka New York offered. The two of them didn’t live far from the beach, having taken over Rapunzel’s parent’s beach house. It was very old and run down, but the pair was fixing it up in exchange for free rent.

‘Aye New York is right, and we can take my new whip… bruh.” Los Angeles gestured over his shoulder towards the dunes. They couldn’t see it yet because that dang dune was blocking things again. But everyone knew he was referring to his new golf cart.

Reluctantly the girls agreed and a few long minutes later they were rushing inside an old house to avoid the rain that had just started to fall. Their car was left abandoned in the free parking lot.

Inside was an odd mix of old and new. Brand new stainless steel appliances dotted a kitchen with dark wood cabinets and a yellow linoleum floor. A half-torn-down wall gave way to the living room with floor-to-ceiling wood paneling and floral print furniture.

“It ain’t much but it’s home.” Los Angeles said once everyone was inside. He walked beyond the torn-down wall and slapped his hand on the wood paneling. “New York over there hates this stuff, but it’s hella soundproof if you know what I mean.” With this, he wiggled his eyebrows and finally, earned an eye roll from New York.

“How did you know we were on the beach by the way?” Elsa asked as she took a step further into the kitchen to look at the collection of magnets on the fridge.

“Your sister posted about it on her tumblr of all places. Honestly, get an Instagram like the rest of us already.” New York said throwing her hands up dramatically. The drama ran in the family apparently.

The ping pong table was in the basement, a dimly light space with concrete walls and a tiled floor. Mix-matched chairs lined the walls and a mini-fridge sat in the corner next to a shelf full of liquor bottles.

The ping pong game quickly descended into beer pong with a twist. No one had to drink from the cups the ball landed in. Because that’s gross, don’t do that. Inside if someone managed to land the ball in a cup the other team had to take half a shot of vodka. Los Angeles had wanted to do full shots but Elsa and New York talked him out of it, if only for not dying reasons.

Even so after a few games with no true stand-out winner, just a bunch of dumb luck, they were all fairly buzzed. Flushed creeks and slurred speech. Outside the storm finally hit. Rain battered the small basement windows and thunder boomed overhead.

With each thunderclap, Elsa reached for Anna’s hand and wouldn’t let go till the other girl gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Finally, everyone seemed to have enough of the game and collapsed into bean bag bars that Anna and Elsa had both not noticed before. Elsa scooted her bean bag closer to Anna’s, the other two people didn’t seem to notice. New York was hanging all over Los Angeles. Her fingers tracing the curve of his jawline down, her eyes practically boring holes into his face. He acted like he didn’t see, but it was obvious he knew.

“You guys can stay here for the night if you want since the storm sounds so bad,” Eugene said, dropping his horrible accent.

“That’s very kind, but it’s just a little rain, we’ll be alright,” Anna replied, completely forgetting their car was many blocks away.

New York stopped messing with her man and turned to them. “Anna, it’s more than a little rain. It’s a hurricane, I mean it was a tropical storm and it was supposed to miss us. But you know how it be sometimes.” She said with amazing clarity for a drunkard.

Elsa’s hand shot to Anna’s and she let out an audible gasp. She had refused to check the weather before heading out the door today, figuring what she didn’t know, can’t hurt her. Which was stupid and out of character for someone who claims to be responsible.

Another boom followed by a bright flash of lightning illuminated the room for a brief second. Elsa looked terrified so Anna took it upon herself to change the subject.

“So we will be seeing you in two weeks right?”

Rapunzel playing New York smiled and clapped her hands together, “Yes! At the church!”

“For things better left unspoken,” Eugene playing Los Angeles groaned, covering his eyes with his forearm.

Another boom and the room was suddenly cast in darkness and accompanied by an eerie quiet. You never notice how much sound your electronics make till everything is off. Elsa grabbed Anna’s entire arm, holding it so tightly Anna was worried she would lose it.

“Ah fuck the power is out. We have some candles upstairs, I’ll be right back, Rapunzel can you see if the camping lantern is over on the shelf?”

“Um excuse me, it’s New York, but yes I will look.”

Two bodies moved away in the darkness, their paths illuminated by the small light on their phones. Next to Anna, Elsa’s breathing became rapid and she clung to Anna as if she was in danger of being blown away.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright,” Anna whispered, using her free hand to pet the top of Elsa’s head. The older girl shifted so in one fluid motion she was off her beanbag and on Anna’s before curling into the young girl’s side.

“I found it!” Rapunzel slash New York exclaimed. She turned it on and the room was partly lit up. She walked back to where the other two women were cuddled together and sat back down in her own beanbag.

“Wow, that’s like hella gay.” She said, pointing to the pair.

“Oh shut up, she just doesn’t like storms, you know that.” Anna quipped

Elsa let go of Anna’s arm long enough to extend a hand and flip off her cousin, earning her a laugh in response.

Eugene returned shortly after with the candles, a tray of food, and some cards. “Anyone up for a game of hurricane poker? It’s like regular poker only there’s a hurricane.”

He rejoined the group, placing the tray in the middle of everyone and paying no mind to the two women who now shared a beanbag.

Elsa lifted her head to look, the tray was adorned with a random assortment of food. Celery sticks, M&M’s, KitKat bars, Cheetos, Grapes, and some animal crackers. She made a face.

“What’s wrong uh bruh?” Eugene asked in a bad attempt to get back in character. Los Angeles would never quite be the character that New York was.

“I’ll only eat celery sticks if you pay me,” Elsa responded.

The next few hours consisted of Eugene completely wiping the floor with everyone. They played for the M&M’s, of which he now owned all of. With the power still out and the storm still raging on the decision was made for the sisters to spend the night over.

Their room was completely unrenovated, the same wood paneling from the living room made up the walls and the carpet was a thick green shag rug. Eugene was right about one thing though, the paneling sure did dampen the sound. Once the door was shut the two women could hardly hear anything, which was good because Rapunzel had started blasting Mandy Moore music for some reason.

There was only one bed, pushed into the corner, but it didn’t matter anyway. There could have been 80 beds and they still would have shared just one.

Anna laid down on her back and traced the grains in the wooden wall. “Really makes you want to carve something in this stuff you know? Something that would be around for hundreds of years.”

“Please don’t vandalize our cousin’s house,” Elsa said before sitting on the edge of the bed. She turned the lantern off so the only source of the light in the room was the candle on the nightstand.

“You alright?” Anna asked, propping herself up on one elbow.

“Yeah, I’m just worried about the storm, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Anna reached out and gently grabbed Elsa’s arm, guiding her back to lay in the bed next to her. “Do you want to sleep or keep your mind off things?”

Elsa paused for a brief moment before removing her arm from Anna’s grip. “I don’t know…”

“It’s your choice, either way, I’m here for you.” Anna smiled at her, a flash of lightning lit up the room but no thunder.

It startled Elsa but she remained where she was, staring at Anna. Thinking, always thinking.

“It’s just a storm and this old house seems to be built like a tank anyway.” She made a fist and pounded the wall to prove her point.

Elsa started twirling the end of one of Anna’s braids but her eyes remained locked on Anna’s. The delayed thunderclap came and Elsa inhaled sharply. Anna leaned over and kissed the top of her forehead.

“You sure this is okay?” Elsa asked and Anna nodded, running the back of her hand down the other girl’s cheek. “Let’s get our mind off of things then.”

Elsa crawled till she was straddling Anna who gazed up at her with eyes that shown like stars in the candlelight.

“What’s your favorite constellation?”

“Hmm, probably Orion, because you can find his belt so easy,” Anna answered, “Yours?” “Your eyes”

“Ew, that’s so fucking cheesy.”

Elsa leaned down, her mouth slightly agape. Anna’s eyes fluttered shut as her hands found their way to the other woman’s shoulders.

The storm, the damage, their car, all these things could wait until tomorrow. Tonight they were out of their control so for tonight they didn’t matter.

Elsa blew out the candle, and they both plunged into the sinful escape of the darkness.

#elsanna #submission #June 2021 contest #prompt: storm #lime #cw: alcohol use

[julyarchives]

Die For You

Being taken hostage turns out to be what you needed to find what you have always been  looking for. 

→ Pairing: Kino x Reader

→ Genre: Horror

→ Words:  4.4K

→ Contains: Horror; Death; Blood; Stockholm Syndrom, Psychopath Stalker; Stabbing. Murder.

→ A/n: It is still halloween for us! This is our second story to celebrate this time of the year! This story is for the horror fans, and it was a lot of fun to write. We hope you all enjoy it!

You woke up without the memory of falling asleep. Your head was still dizzy and you felt your shoulders and back very stiff. You attempted to stretch them but soon realized that something was constricting you. 

That’s when your eyes shot wide open in panic. You were tied up to a chair, completely unable to move. You struggled, trying to move and set you free, but your efforts were in vain. Any screams or sounds coming from you were muffled by the piece of cloth tied securely around your mouth.

The surroundings were unknown by you. It looked like a warehouse, illuminated by purple and pink lights, as well as some candles scattered around. The place was slightly cluttered with a few piles of books, which you recognized by the cover as some of your personal favorites, a guitar propped against a black leather couch.

There were also a bunch of long stemmed roses decorating the place, if you could call that decoration. Some of the flowers’ petals had already fallen and danced around with the light breeze that came from one of the high broken glass windows.

“Oh, great, you woke up” a cheerful voice startled you, making you jump in your seat.

A boy appeared in front of you, closing a heavy sliding metal door behind him, and the loud noise it made didn’t seem to bother him at all. He was wearing a black suit with a white shirt underneath, topped with a bolo tie beautifully adorned by a blue gemstone in the center. 

His raven hair was messy, looking as he’s been running his hands through it after attempting to style it. He had make up on his face, but it was poorly applied, leaving eyeshadow smudges across the outer corner of his eye, just as the lip tint was smeared around the lips.

His face was very sweet looking despite the mad smile he was shooting you.

He approached you, crouching down to look you in the eyes, and gently pulled the gag away from your mouth.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here, have you been up for so long?” he asked with a concerned and apologetic tone.

“What do you want from me?” your voice was so small it was barely audible. Your whole body was shaking and the tears were rolling freely down your cheeks.

He tilted his head as if he didn’t understand your question, eyeing you curiously. He reached his hand to dry your tears, but you flinched away.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.” He stated softly before proceeding with his action, his touch so soft you could barely feel it. “I even used silky ropes, so your wrists wouldn’t bruise 

You couldn’t bring yourself to answer. What would you even answer anyway?

“Anyway, we have the whole evening to ourselves! What do you wanna do? I’ve got all of your favorite books and there’s some food if you’re hungry. I could also pick up some wine, if that’s what you would like.” He started pacing around, trying to figure out what to grab first.

“Who are you?” you managed to say, even though your trembling voice was refusing to come out properly

“Oh, silly me” he laughed, lightly tapping his head and rolling his eyes “I’m Hyunggu, but you can call me Kino. Nice to meet you, y/n.” He offered a smile that you believed was supposed to be sweet, but it just sent shivers down your spine.

“How do you know my name?” you asked and couldn’t help but cry harder.

“I know everything about you!” Kino said proudly. “I know your favorite coffee shop and where you work from 9 to 5. I know you like to meet up with your best friend in that park near your house and spend the day reading under the big oak tree listening to music...”

As he kept listing everything about you, the feeling of sheer panic took over you, and at this point you were sobbing loudly. You wondered how long have you been watched and how couldn’t you notice it before. 

“No, don’t cry” he leaned down in front of you again. “It’s okay, I promise I’m not bad”

He caressed your hair, but you started to move around as much as you could, avoid him near you

“Don’t touch me!” you yelled, crying harder as you did so. “Don’t get near me!”

“Y/N, don’t do this, please” He tried to hold you still, showing his strength as he held your shoulders down.

“HELP!” you yelled at the top of your lungs. “SOMEBODY HELP ME, PLEASE!”

Kino’s whole demeanor changed. His eyes were dark and scary now. He stood up, looking at you impatiently.

“You can scream as much as you want, y/n, we are in the middle of nowhere. I’m the only one here for you. I am your only help.”

Your heart was pounding in your ears and you were crying so hard you barely could catch your breath. Everything was about fear. You feared for your life and you couldn’t see yourself escaping. 

“You leave me no choice, y/n” Kino said before pulling a syringe out of his pocket, taking the lid off with his teeth

“No, please! Please don’t do this!” You plead, squirming hard in another failed attempt to free yourself. “Please, don’t do this, I’ll do whatever you want, please!” 

He completely ignored you, as he forcefully grabbed your arm and swiftly poked the needle through your skin.

You screamed in pain and horror until you could feel yourself drifting off against your will.

When you woke up again, the first thing you saw was Kino sitting on the couch, staring intently at you. He had moved your chair closer when you were unconscious, to the point where he could reach you from where he was sitting without any trouble. 

His expressions weren’t as harsh as you last remember seeing him. He opened that same sweet but psycho smile as he saw you regaining your consciousness. Again you couldn’t say anything even if you tried. You were feeling tired and defeated, and by this point you just accepted there’s nothing you could do.

“You’re back just in time! I’ve got you food!” He picked up the pack of food from your favorite burger shop. “It’s already midnight and I know for a fact that your last meal was almost 12 hours ago, you can not get weaky, y/n. You must be hungry.”

He unwrapped the burger and reached it close to you so you could take a bite. You stared at him angrily, pondering the multiple scenarios over your head. The food must not have poison or anything that could kill you. If he wanted you dead he would have done it by now. If you wanted to escape you had to have strength. And he got it right, you were starving from the stupid salad your coworker bought you for lunch. You laughed quietly at how dumb and futile a diet sounds at the moment you’re at.

You took a big bite, involuntary moaning in satisfaction as you tasted your favorite. Kino smiled proud of himself for making you eat. You chewed fast, wanting to get this over with, but he seemed to enjoy watching every second of it. He alternated between the burger and fries, letting you take sips of soda through the plastic straw of the disposable cup.

When you finished eating he delicately dabbed the paper napkin on your face, making sure no spots were left dirty. He caressed your hair and beamed at you, who was just angrily holding his gaze.

“Good girl” he murmured.

“What do you want from me?” your voice was back to normal by now, and you were able to enunciate your words confidently.

Kino sat back, resting his back carefully against the couch, doing the same head tilt he’s done before.

“You’re asking the wrong question, y/n.” he said in a husky voice, sounding as an attempt to be seductive “I am here yo do whatever you want from me.”

“I want you to let me go” you promptly interrupted

“See, I can not do that just yet.” He leaned forward now, elbows resting on his knees and hands clasping together. He observed every little motion you made. “I need you here. And unfortunately you have to stay like this until I’m sure you won’t run away from me.”

“And what makes you think I will ever want to be with you?” you spit your words, full of anger rather than fear, tired of these games.

“Because you are just like me” he stated calmly

You scoffed.

“Please, elight me in what way are you and me similar?” you rolled your eyes.

He leaned forward again, gazed locked in your eyes as he slowly placed his hand on your knee. He looked at you like he knew all your secrets - which he probably did. Something about the way he treated you and looked at you, something about this whole dynamic, is entrancing. Something in him draws you in, either with just hate for being trapped or with curiosity on why is this all happening.

“You are just like me when you lock yourself in your room at night, and when you shuffle through dating apps to find someone that can keep you busy for a night but cannot give you what you truly want.” He enunciated every word eloquently “I know that you try to find in others what you can find in yourself. That hole can’t be filled with one night stands and strangers paying you drinks all night.”

You gulped. He was not wrong. Of every person in your life, no one ever knew this about you. You never shared your feelings, never let anyone in. How can a stranger know something so personal that even the closest people don’t. He got you like no one did, and you hated yourself for being so vulnerable and exposed. The few tears streaming down your cheeks were now full of shame and anger.

“You are desperate to feel something. Something you don’t even know what it is. A thrill. A high. Anything. But you never get it. Day after day you seek that sparkle inside of you that nothing and no one could light up.” He paused, staring deeply at you. “So far.”

 You held his gaze, refusing to let him think he had the upper hand, even though he did. You were too proud to admit he was right. He didn’t say anything else, and neither did you. The small bubble of the personal staring contest was secure, not a sound or any life form could interrupt you. You could hear the wind shaking some foliage and the rose petals still flying around your peripheral vision.

Without saying another word, Kino got up and started pacing around, humming an unknown tune carelessly, like nothing had happened.

“May you not rest as long as I am living. You said I killed you - haunt me then. The murdered do haunt their murderers.” Kino said calmly. “ Be with me always, take any form. Drive me mad. Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you” You felt like you’ve heard that before. “Oh, God... It is unutterable... I cannot live without my life... I cannot live without my soul.”

“Very ironic to quote Wuthering Heights right now.” You said after finally recognizing the quote.

“Romantic, isn’t it?” He smiled sweetly. 

“If that book is your reference of romance, that says a lot about how you perceive love.” You chuckled humorlessly

“Is that why you’ve read it 3 times?” He asks with a hint of triumph in his voice.

You didn’t know how to respond.

“I know what you want, y/n, and I am the one who can give it to you.” he continued.

“And how are you going to do that with me tied up to a chair?”

“You will be out of there soon.” His expression darkened “I just need to understand that I know you. The real you. The you that you don’t show to anyone else. You’ve realized that by now. You and I are the same, and when I found you I knew that you had what I was looking for. You just want to be loved. You lit up my sparkle and if you give me a chance I can do the same for you. I know what you need and I can give it to you. I can show you that you have this power inside you all along.” 

As you stared at him, you couldn't help but feel drawn to his eyes. There was something about it that made you not want to look away. It looked sincere. The way he looked at you, you felt like you could trust him, like he would never lie to you.

"You'll see." he finally said before leaving out again. 

When he closed the door behind him, you weren't surprised you felt lonely. The place was scary. The candles were burning out and the room was getting darker. The noises outside made you flinch every other minute and you just desperately. If only you weren't tied up, you would feel safer. You could try to defend yourself if something happened. And then you caught yourself wishing Kino was here. You weren’t scared of something or someone hurting you when he was around. 

The first time Kino uncuffed you was the next day. It felt like forever until he was back. You woke up and fell back asleep countless times. The mixture of exhaustion, fear and panic was almost taking you sanity away. 

When he came back the sun was already out. You could feel your face swollen from all the crying and there wasn’t one place in your body that wasn’t hurting.

“I’m going to untie you now.” He said, crouching down to be eye-to-eye, like he always did when talking to you. He just never looked down at you. “If you try to escape, I’ll be forced to do things I don’t want to.” As he said it, you could see his hand patting the knife on his pocket. “I did something I think you will like.”

As the ropes loosened around you, and you finally stood up, you sighed in relief when you stretched your back and arms up. 

“You can go in there.” Kino pointed to a room that was behind you, on the part of the warehouse you couldn’t see before. “Take all the time you want, I’ll be there when you get comfortable.”

You walked slowly, looking over your shoulders just to see him sitting patiently on the chair that you were previously tied up to.

What was on the other side of the door was a surprisingly clean and bright bathroom. There was a warm bubble bath and a fluffy towel waiting for you. 

You were quick to undress and your body welcomed the soothing water. You allowed yourself to close your eyes and rest, letting all your muscles relax. You didn’t keep track of how long you stood there, but eventually a knock on the door brought you out of the bubble.

You tried to cover yourself under the bubbles, since you couldn’t really tell him to not enter

“There’s clean clothes for you.” he pointed to the bag on the corner. “You can leave your dirty ones in the sink”

He sat on the edge of the tub and you just curled yourself up, feeling more vulnerable and exposed than before. He reached for the shampoo, and started massaging your head after pouring some in your hair.  He  humming softly, his fingers working soothing circles down your scalp and around your neck. Eventually you felt like you could just let go and enjoy the caring gesture, the tension slowly going away with time.

After some time, Kino left again, letting you finish your bath and change into fresh clothes that you recognize as your own, and it didn’t surprise you that he probably broke into your house. When you went back, there were a few takeaway containers with breakfast food waiting for you on a small table set right in the middle of the room. There was a chair for you across from Kino’s, which he motioned for you to sit.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked

You took a seat slowly, not really sure of what you were and weren’t allowed to do.

“Yes” You limited your answer.

“So, I can give you time untied if you behave well. So far you haven’t tried anything unpleasant, and that makes me really happy, y/n. You may enjoy your breakfast now.”

The tingling feeling of gratefulness worried you.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months until you lost track of time. Kino began trusting you more, and most of the time you were free to walk around the place. He brought a bed where you could sleep comfortably, there were always fresh meals and new clothes waiting for you. He would spend the time listening to music or reading some random book. Sometimes you two would discuss it, it was a good way for you to forget the actual situation you were in.

The feeling of the first night only grew, you hated being alone at night, always giving you an uneasy feeling of being unsafe, and that’s why he spent most of the time with you. He would only leave to buy more food or “run quick errands”, as he would say and that’s when he tied you up again, which grew accustomed to.

“For your own safety, princess” He would say before planting a kiss to your forehead and leaving.

You always yearned for him to come back soon.

Kino was always gentle and treated you kindly. He would listen to your requests - as long as they wouldn’t include leaving the place. One day he even let you out for a little bit, so you could enjoy the sun, but of course he was strongly gripping your hand all the time. 

You could see that he never lied about being in the middle of nowhere. It looked like an old and abandoned industrial area, surrounded by a vast wild field, the only access was a barely-noticeable dirt road. 

You felt really happy and, again, grateful. You were convinced that Kino was a good person for you. He listened, he took care of you and he was always honest. You didn’t think he was a bad person. He understood you. And you were starting to understand him.

With time, you didn’t even think about your life before him. You forgot about your tiring work, your unfriendly coworkers, the bars, the drinking, all the things that made you tired and disgruntled were left behind and it was thanks to him. You felt like you owed him. 

In your captive you found freedom and for that you didn’t feel caged. 

“I won’t take long to come back,” Kino said, making your stomach twist in anxiety. “I know you don’t like being alone at night, but I have something important to do.”

“Can’t I go with you? I can be in the car, you can lock me up inside, I promise I won’t do anything but wait for you.”

“I can’t do that, princess, there are certain things I rather keep you away from. I wouldn't risk losing you.” He said and kissed your forehead, the familiar gesture reassuring you that he was just trying to take care of you. He left quickly after he tied you to the bed. The radio was on, so at least you had something to distract yourself with.

It was about 15 minutes later when the heavy door slid open, and you felt so relieved for not being alone anymore.

“Hello?” A strange voice echoed around.

You immediately started panicking, afraid of someone hurting you. You couldn’t hide or run, and soon the strange man saw you.

“Oh, Hi, I just got lost in the road, and I saw some lights, I thought I could ask for direct-” he stopped mid track when he saw your wide-eyed face, and finally noticed you were tied up. “Oh my god, are you okay?! Is someone keeping you trapped here?”

He ran towards you, and you started screaming and crying. 

“Don’t come closer, please!” You yelled, the frighten evident in your voice.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you, I can get you out of here.” He got a pocket knife to cut you free from the ropes, and immediately grabbed your wrists to pull you away. “Come on! I’ll call the police from the car”

You were flooded with conflicting thoughts. For a long time you thought of trying to find a way to escape. You dreamed of putting your life back on track after this wake up call, to chase after your dreams and do all the things you haven’t done before. And right now the opportunity was right there in front of you.

But all you felt was scared. You didn’t want to leave Kino. There was nothing out there for you anymore. Kino gave you everything. He allowed you to find yourself. He took care of you and made you feel safe, he was the one for you. You only needed him.

You pulled yourself from his grip

“Go away!”

“No, you don’t understand, I can take you out of here. I can take you to the police and they will protect you from the sick bastard who is keeping you here. He won’t hurt you anymore.” the guy was desperate, trying to grab you again as you fought him. 

You stepped back until you hit the table where you have had dinner just an hour ago. You watched as the man approached you, and in panic you reached back your hand, feeling your way to a knife.  When he finally reached you, yanking you forcefully towards the exact, you didn’t think twice.

It all happened too fast. You aimed for the neck, knowing that the chance of you hitting an important blood vessel was big, and he would die in seconds. The knife pierced through his skin gruesomely. You knew you hit where you wanted when, at the pull of it, blood gushed everywhere, staining your face and clothes. 

The man fell to the ground with a loud thump, squirming powerless as more and more blood poured out of him, creating a puddle under his body. You were shaking, pupils blown wide from the adrenalin. You let the knife fall from your hand, the metal sound echoing around.

When you looked at the door, Kino was standing there, watching you worriedly.

You didn’t think twice when you sprint towards him. He received you in a tight hug, which you reciprocated with the same intensity. You buried your face in his neck, seeking comfort in the safety of having him with you.

“Are you okay, princess?” he stepped back, cupping your cheeks, his thumb brushing some blood drops away.

“Mm-hmm” You nodded quietly.

“I’m so sorry I left you here all alone, I should have been here to protect you.” he kissed your forehead calmly.

“He wanted to take me away, I was so scared.” You hugged him tighter, allowing yourself to cry quietly. “I-I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you behind.”

Kino watched your words carefully, the corners of his lips twisting in a small smile. He caressed your cheeks and stared deep into your eyes. He looked happy. Satisfied.

“I will never leave you again” He cooed.

When he leaned closer to kiss your forehead again, you tiptoed so your lips met his.

 His eyes widened in surprise for a second, he backed away as if you had done it by accident. When he realized that was your intention he pulled you closer again, arms twisting around your waist, and kissed you.

He kissed you as he life depended on it, and every fiber of your body jumped in excitement. You kissed him back, finally feeling like you were exactly where you belonged. Like you found the love of your life, the part that was missing. You had all you needed right there. He ended the kiss with light pecks, and that’s when you just needed to say something that’s been in the back of your mind for days:

“I love you, Kino” 

“I love you, y/n” He smiled so happily. “I have a surprise for you.”

He reached his hand for you to hold, and you gladly accepted. Butterflies danced around your stomach in excitement.

He guided you outside, to his car. He opened the passenger door for you. You just couldn’t believe it. You looked at him in doubt, but he just gave you an encouraging nod.

You settled inside, and soon he joined you in the driver’s seat.

“I’ve been gathering this for a while for you. For us. For the time you were ready to start over, when you would accept to do with me. It can be just the two of us, we will build our life together from 0.” He motioned with his head to the backseat.

There was a duffle bag, full to the top with cash. A lot of cash. You didn’t feel the need to ask him where he got all of that, the important part is that all you wanted was to be with him. Start fresh where no one would come in between you and him.

“Do you want to run away with me, y/n?” Kino hopeful smile filled you with joy

“Yes! Absolutely!” you jumped in your seat, too excited to hold back.

It was all he needed to hear. He started the car and drove away. You watched from the rear-view mirror the warehouse being left behind for good. It was so hidden, it would take days for anyone to find the body. Kino and you would be far far away by then, living your fairy-tale fantasy. It was all behind you now. You looked down at your blood-stained clothes, and surprisingly wasn’t a bother. Nothing would be. Nothing could take this moment away from you. 

Kino placed one hand on your thigh, the dark empty road didn’t require enough attention that he couldn’t share it with you. You placed your hand on top of his, lightly intertwining fingers. He flashed you another beautiful smile.

“You’re mine.” he said fondly. Strongly.

“I’m yours.”

#Kino #pentagon #horror #horror fic #halloween #Hyunggu #Kang Hyunggu #Pentagon Kino #Pentagon Horror Fanfiction #death #stabbing #blood #stockholm syndrome #psychopath #fanfiction #kpop #kpop horror #julyarchives