#unfortunately hes an old man and also they work together. she considers packing her bags and moving away. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

horrorxweasley · 3 years

Text

(Part 1) Triple W Mafia George x Fem! Y/N series

Warnings: Swearing! that’s it really (unless I've missed something then please let me know)

Word Count: 2,174

Summary: George Weasley is a renowned Mafia boss who took over from his Father Arthur once he retired, to carry on the Triple W mafia legacy. The only mafia known to be able to keep the Death Eaters (their rival mafia) at bay. However there is one item that they stole from the Triple W’s which George is determined to get back...his mothers necklace, the family heirloom. Y/N Greyback has been forced to comply with the Death Eaters wishes as her family are high up members. What happens when George and Y/N meet? And what happens when they fall in love?

Series Masterlist

The lights were dim in the what looked like to be an old bar room, the red hue coming from the red lamp shades hitting the walls. Smoke from cigars fogging up the top half of the room barely keeping the floor below visible. At each table there were groups of men, all sitting in perfectly tailored suits, sipping on their glasses of whiskey, laughing and having a good time. At the back of the room however, sat one man, alone. His elbow propped up on the arm of his chair, his finger brushing over his top lip as if he were deep in thought. His other hand held the same glass as every other man in the bar, lazily not caring if it were to fall and smash everywhere.

The man, George Weasley, a tall ginger man who’s eyes were the dark but kind shade of brown. Although seemingly intimidating, George had a kind heart, if he seen someone being attacked or robbed in the street, everyone would end up feeling bad for the attacker by the time George was finished with him. He had no time for the scum who go out of their way to make someone else’s life a living hell in order for them to feel a small, temporary taste for a God complex.

George had only recently taken over the title of the Triple W Mafia Boss, when his father Arthur had decided it was his time to retire and pass over the family ‘business’ to one of his sons. George was one of 6 sons and one daughter within the Weasley family. His identical twin brother Fred was technically supposed to become the next Mafia boss, as he was the older twin. But, he had decided that his brother George was more fit to the job than he was. So, George gratefully took over the role and appointed Fred and his younger brother Ron, to be his sort of ‘Body Guards’ although, of course George was far from needing any form of help when it came to beating or killing a criminal, it was still always good to have a little back up sometimes.

“Hey Georgie, what’s the plan then? What we gonna do about these damn Death Eaters?”

George sat, not moving, deep in thought. ‘What was he going to do about those Death Eaters?’ He has no where to start, the bastards are constantly on the run. He was determined to find their whereabouts however, as they had stolen something very precious to him, his mother’s necklace. The Weasley family heirloom.

In a room that was very clearly abandoned and covered in moss and mould, sat groups of men and some women in black cloaks with peculiar pointed hoods. These people, in contrast to that of which the Triple W members, appeared extremely intimidating. The members of Triple W were intimidating, but these were the sort of people no one would want to encounter in the streets, day or night. There was no smoke from cigars in this small dingy room, there was however and eye watering stench, that was so strong some of the Death Eaters swore they seen a slight foggy green haze floating around the room.

All cloaked members were sitting in a circle all surrounding their leader Tom Riddle, or as he likes to call himself ‘Voldemort’. A tall man (not as tall as George) with black, short curly hair. He wasn’t wearing a cloak like his ‘followers’ but was wearing something that looked more like a bath robe, it was all black of course to fit in with the rest. All were listening in carefully to what he was saying, all apart form Y/N Greyback, daughter of Fenrir Greyback, a man who is considered very high up in the Death Eater mafia. She was sat in the corner, wearing a contrasting blood red dress that hugged all of her curves perfectly. Her Y/H/C hair was curled at the ends in neat ringlets, and she had some makeup on but not too much so she looked ‘dolled up’.

“We all know that the Triple W are cowering out in some fancy old bar, trouble is we don’t know where, I’ve had a few out scouting round the area, unfortunately they have all been caught” Riddle speaks out gesturing and engaging with his followers.

“What do you suggest we do then sir?” Said Fenrir who was sitting right next to where Riddle was parading around the room.

“I say we send out our most valuable member, of course, real them in, make them vulnerable” he smirked

“You don’t mean…”

“Oh yes, but I do, your daughter shall make excellent bate my dear friend, for she wears what Weasley most desires” Riddle finishes

Y/N too busy sat in the corner reading an old book, didn’t even notice that every Death Eater members eyes were on her, all smiling to themselves.

This may actually work, if we send out Y/N who is wearing that incredibly expensive looking, diamond necklace, it may just lure the idiot ginger straight to us” Fenrir laughed.

So their plan was set, send Y/N as bait and hopefully George would follow.

- George still hadn’t moved from the position he was sat in, he hadn’t taken a single sip of his drink, his eyes focussed and barely ever blinking. He was seemingly ignoring every person who tried to get a word out of him for some sort of plan to take down their Rival mafia. Sure he had killed a lot of spies they had sent out, but he was getting absolutely no leads on where exactly they were coming from, Riddle was smarter than he thought. It seemed he had Death Eaters coming from all over the country in all different directions and disguises. George had to find some way in order to track down where exactly they were based.

The sounds of other members arguing, specifically Fred and Ron who were standing right next to where George was sat, started to sound like a horrible ringing noise, it was driving him insane, how could he concentrate when these buffoon’s were yelling nonsense at each other.

“WILL YOU ALL SHUT UP” He yelled now getting up from his seat and walking to the middle of the smoky room.

“I can’t fucking think when you’re all fighting and arguing with each other on what we’re going to do. I am very aware that those bastards are close to finding us, alright? They’ve gained more members in the past few months than I can count on my two hands. Problem is, they’re coming from all over the country, there is no set direction from where they’re all coming from, meaning that they aren’t coming from their base. This brings us to our next problem, what we’re going to do about it. The only thing I can suggest right now, which I believe may actually be our only two options, is either we leave and find a new base OR we send out multiple people all round the general area of here just outside the boarders of this town where the forests are. Each mile will have two of our members, armed and ready to capture and interrogate anyone that comes from outside the town. This includes anyone who seems innocent to the eye I.e. a mother and child as we all know by now there are families who have been a part of the Death Eaters for years, long enough for them to welcome their children. If you see a mother and child however, you of course don’t attack them straight away, you take them for questioning and more importantly, you look for that damn skull snake monstrosity that they all have tattooed on their left forearm.”

George stands looking between each of his guys trying to gauge what they were thinking by their faces.

“So what’s it to be? Hands up if you think we should move”

No one put their hands up and George smiled knowing that everyone in Triple W are too loyal to the town of Diagon to even consider leaving.

“Good choice boys, now” he rubs his hands together “who’s volunteering to be part of the watch team?”

- Y/N couldn’t believe her ears when she heard the plan to trick Triple W into following her back to the Death Eaters. She also had no idea that the beautiful silver diamond necklace that hung lazily round her neck was the stolen Weasley heirloom.

The actions of her family disgusted her, she knew that what they stood for and what they were doing was wrong, but putting her in harms way all over a stupid rivalry, AND tricking her into thinking that the necklace she had was a gift. She felt so stupid for believing them, Y/N had no options but to accept that she was going to have to go along with their horrendous plan and bait George and other members of Triple W into following her back into her family and Riddle’s evil grasp.

“Perfect” Riddle smiled grimly when Y/N accepted

“But of course, we can’t just lure them in, in one mere night, no, you have to spread this out over the course of a few days. Have him become intrigued by you, follow you a little while. You’ll be staying in a place called the Leaky Cauldron, don’t let him see you in there, it’ll blow your cover. Make sure he only sees you walking through the streets. Got it?”

Y/N tentatively nodded her head

“Good, and then, when the time is right, you’ll lead him straight here. We’ll be in communication with you, don’t let me down”

Y/N shakily made her way to Diagon, bags packed and the necklace still hanging round her neck. She had since changed into a black, silk dress, helping the bright silver of the necklace stand out against the dark colour of her clothes, further, of course to draw George Weasley’s attention.

Once she had settled into her room at the Leaky Cauldron, she was given specific instruction to make sure she wondered round the street at night, as that is most likely when Triple W members will come out from wherever they were hiding.

Y/N took a step out into the cold crisp night air, her heels click clacking off the stone pavements. She couldn’t help but take in the beauty of the town, cobblestone roads winding all through it, the windows on each building slightly askew but somehow didn’t seem out of place. It was as if she were walking through an old victorian town.

Snapping her thoughts back to the task at hand, she pulled her black shawl over her shoulders more and continued to wander aimlessly round, trying to find some form of clue as to were Triple W were hiding.

- George was more than satisfied with the outcome of the meeting they had today. He had 40 people on a list to keep watch each mile surrounding Diagon, meaning that all 20 miles would be covered. They all had their instructions ingrained into their heads and were ready to get to work the next day. Fred and Ron as usual would stay within Diagon with George, communicating to those who were out surrounding the area getting updates and passing round information. George had also decided to send a few extra spies out, including his younger sister Ginny to be on the look out for any Death Eater members who may still be lurking round the town.

George, Fred and Ron made their way out of the old bar room, and onto the streets. George made sure that they each had means of contacting each other. Fred whom George would normally live with, agreed that they each should have their own flats or place to stay in order to cover more of Diagon, and therefore be more accessible to those out in the forest. With their last goodbyes and a few phone calls to book places to stay, the three brothers separated all going in opposite directions.

George headed down the street, his hands becoming slightly red from the cold, and he could see his breath in the air. The dim orange streetlights barely lighting up the path as he walked past the old crooked houses and shops.

Just a George turned the corner he bumped into someone, a woman, dressed in a black dress and shawl.

“Oh I’m so sorry miss, I wasn’t looking where I was going properly, these damn street lights barely light up 2 feet in front of you. Are you alright” George asked looking into her eyes with worry

“I’m perfectly fine, sir, thank you” she smiled back and walked away

But George followed her with his eyes, more specifically he followed her neck, because what was hanging from it made him do a double take. He knew those diamonds from anywhere, they way they glistened brightly in every light. Was that, his mother’s stolen necklace?

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @love-peachh @pens-and-roses @rosietoesy @comfortwriting @famdomhideout @dracofknmalfoy @pandaxnienke @georgeweasleysbabe @le-weasley-simp (MESSAGE/ASK IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED)

137 notes · View notes

jengis-morrangis · 3 years

Text

Keeping Warm

I got the idea to this story from artwork by the talented @3three-question-marks. I’d also like to thank @pacific-ship for her amazing help beta reading this story for me. Enjoy!

A cold breeze came flowing into the attic of the Mystery Shack as Dipper cracked the door slightly and quickly slid his way through. “Close the door, hurry!” Mabel commanded from her bed.

“Okay, okay!” Dipper said as he fidgeted with the door. The handle wasn’t working correctly, so after a few failed attempts to close the door by turning the knob and pushing it, he decided to forcefully barge his shoulder into it, causing it to jam shut.

He turned around to see Mabel sitting at the head of her bed. She was sitting up, legs crossed as she cupped the lantern between their bed with gloved hands. “My fingers are cold.” She whimpered dramatically.

Dipper brought his hands up to his face, balling them into fists and twisting them next to his eyes with a sad face in a non verbal ‘boo hoo.’ Mabel gasped in response, and Dipper just barely had enough time to duck as a pillow came flying over his head.

“Hey!” He shouted. Mabel smirked back at him.

“Could you toss that back to me?” She asked in her overly gentle voice she used when she asked for something.

“What? You really think I’m gonna give it back?”

Mabel flickered her eyelashes and smiled innocently. “Please?”

Dipper groaned. He paused for a moment as he thought. “What if I don’t?” He asked boldly.

“You will.” Mabel said with a smirk. Dipper raised his eyebrows as a challenge, and Mabel raised hers right back. Their impromptu staring contest stretched on for a moment before Dipper groaned again.

“Ugh. Fine.” He picked up the pillow and tossed it back to her. She caught it and hugged it snuggly to her chest.

“Thanks, Dip.”

“Don’t mention it.” He sat down on his bed and took off his outer coat. Mabel went back to cupping the lantern for warmth.

Winter in Gravity Falls was a whole different ball game than Piedmont. The twins knew this when they prepared for winter break in Gravity Falls by packing lots of cold weather clothes, but this was ridiculous. Soos had installed insulation during renovations to the shack, but it was still freezing cold.

To make matters worse, the heating to the shack had broken just before the twins arrived, so they had spent the entire first week of their trip doing whatever they could just to keep warm. They usually didn’t hang around the shack unless they were working. Instead, they’d go somewhere warmer, like the Gravity Falls public library or Greasy’s Diner. Anywhere to get out of the cold.

Unfortunately for them they couldn’t do that today. A massive blizzard had blown through town, and they had been snowed in, hardly able to even leave the shack. They had to find a way to stay warm. They were pleased to find a decent source of heat from the old, beat up wood furnace in the kitchen. The twins sat next to it and occasionally fed it wood during their game of cards.

At first it wasn’t very strong, so they had to sit next to it in winter clothing to keep warm, but by the end of the day they managed to warm the entire kitchen. They even had to take off their outer layers to keep from sweating. But of course, it couldn’t last, and soon the time came to sleep.

At first they thought about sleeping in the kitchen. They tried to lay out their sleeping bags, but it just wasn’t comfortable. Eventually they gave up and resigned to the freezing attic. Now here they were, desperately trying to keep warm.

”Jeez. It’s so cold up here. I’ve got no idea how we’re going to get any sleep.” Dipper grumbled. Mabel looked around the room at their beds and covers.

“Well Dip, I’ve got a fantabulous idea!” She grabbed her pillow and blanket before standing up and skipping excitedly across the room until she stood next to his bed. “Cuddle time!”

“O-okay.” He unfolded his arms from around his chest and scooted back on the bed to make room for her before extending his arms as if to greet her with a hug.

“Wait, what?” Mabel was thrown for a loop.

“What about what?”

“Just like that?”

“Just like what?”

“Usually you do that whole, ‘ugh Mabel I don’t wanna cuddle with you cause we’re way too old for that’ act, but I totally know you actually do wanna cuddle and you’re just faking it cause you wanna seem ‘grown up’ and all, then I gotta sweet talk you into it, then we cuddle and you pretend to not like it but I know you totally like it. So what gives? What’s the deal? You luring me into a trap or something? Gonna prank me?” She jokingly raised her fists in a defensive posture. Mostly jokingly.

Dipper sat in silence for a moment. His arms had lowered and his hands had fallen into his lap during Mabel’s rapid fire spiel. Mabel was ready for some sort of witty response. Instead, Dipper extended his arms out to Mabel again. “Please, Mabel. I’m so cold.”

Mabel was overwhelmed with sympathy and lowered her fists. She felt slightly guilty that she would think he would try to trick her. “Aw jeez, Dip. You’re such a cutie. I can’t say no to you.” She sat down on the bed next to him and they embraced each other.

It was nice to lay down next to Dipper, but it didn’t feel like they were actually cuddling with all these layers on. She wanted to actually feel his warmth. “Hey Dip, take your coat off.”

“What? Why?”

“Cause this isn’t real cuddling. I need skin contact!” She whined.

“But isn’t the whole point of this to stay warm?”

“Skin contact!”

“Okay, fine! Crybaby.” He grumbled.

“Fine then! With that attitude I’ll just go back to my own bed.” She started to get up, but was quickly stopped when Dipper wrapped her in a hug.

“No! Please, Mabel, I was joking! I’m sorry!” She chuckled as she sat back down.

“Alright, enough messing around. It’s cuddle time!”

“Yes ma’am.” Dipper replied as he took off his coat.

They laid their coats on top of themselves to provide an extra layer from the cold. They cuddled close and wrapped their arms around each other, pressing their bodies together and snaking their arms around each other. Mabel breathed a comfortable sigh of relief. Much better.

She had to admit that they were getting a bit too old for this. Or rather, too big. They were in their sophomore year of highschool, but thankfully were still able to fit on a single twin bed together.

Several minutes passed in blissful silence. Their breathing became steady and slow, and soon Mabel began dozing off into sleep. Unfortunately, her dozing was interrupted by Dipper shifting away from her. The gap between them left room for the cold air, which to Mabel, felt comparable to a cold bucket of water being dumped on her legs.

She quickly shifted closer to Dipper to close the gap between them and was satisfied by the warmth she found. She barely breathed a sigh of relief before Dipper shifted further away again. Mabel was especially annoyed once she realized he was keeping his distance intentionally.

“Diiiip, where are you going? Get back here bro!” Mabel whined. She tugged on him to draw him back to her, but he continued to resist her.

“N-no I don’t think we should get that cl-” Mabel linked her hands behind his back and pulled so that they collided together. He let out a high pitched squeak, squirmed out of her grasp and scurried away. But it was too late. In the short time that they were together, Mabel felt something brush against her thigh. Something warm, swollen and hard. She didn’t understand at first, but after a moment of eye contact with Dipper's flushed and embarrassed face, it dawned on her what was happening.

“Oh.”

“Ah jeez!” Dipper backed up so far he banged his head against the wall. He held his head where it hit and clenched his eyes shut. “I’m sorry, Mabel, I shouldn’t ha-”

“Dip!” She interrupted. He went silent and peeked up at her. She didn’t know how she was feeling about this exactly, but she did know she didn’t want to hear Dipper apologizing right now. She wasn’t offended, that was for sure, and she wasn’t angry. At the most she was a bit shocked, but she was more curious than anything else.

“Why… why is it… I mean… why?”

“W-what?”

Mabel took a moment to collect herself before trying to form an actual question. “I mean… I know why it’s like that but… what’s causing it?”

Dippers face was continuing to get redder by the second. He opened and closed his mouth a few times with no words coming out before he finally spoke. “Are we really talking about this?”

“Dip! You don’t need to-” She took a breath to dial herself back and remember the kind of state he was in. “You don’t need to be ashamed. I’m not angry or anything. I swear. Just be honest.”

”Well… you really… I mean… sorry, it’s freezing out and I guess cuddling with a pretty girl really made my body… react.”

“Oh…” Was all Mabel said before they fell back into silence. Mabel tapped her fingers together while Dipper rubbed his face in shame. ”You think I’m pretty?” she asked after a long pause.

Dipper gave an embarrassed laugh at that. The question caught him so off guard that he thought she was joking at first. It wasn’t until he looked up and saw the hurt and confusion on her face that he realized she was serious.

The smile disappeared from his face. She was trying to keep her face inscrutable, but Dipper saw the fear hiding behind her eyes. She looked so vulnerable, and he had laughed at her. She wouldn’t say it out loud, but he could tell she was hurt by him laughing. “Of course. You’re the one who’s always bragging about how cute you are.”

“Yeah I know that but… do you think I’m pretty?” Dipper looked down at the sheets at that, and even through the darkness Mabel could see a red tinge on his cheeks. He stayed like that for probably half a minute, silently considering what to say, hoping the darkness was concealing his embarrassment.

“Y-yeah.” He said it like a guilty man confessing to a crime.

She could tell she was blushing from that. She didn’t realize she had such an effect on Dipper. Mabel thought he was cute when he was embarrassed. But boner or not, she wanted to cuddle again.

“Well can we maybe… get back to cuddling?” Mabel asked.

“Y-you still wanna cuddle? Even after… even with my…” He gestured down to his crotch area, blushing even more than he already was.

“Yes Dip, I’m sure of it. Like you said; your body and mind are all out of whack, which is fine. So stop being weird.” She gave him a bright smile and poked him in the shoulder in an attempt to dispel the awkwardness.

He shrugged awkwardly. “O-okay, I guess.” He laid down on his side and lifted the blanket so that Mabel could join him, which she did with an enthusiastic smile and a light giggle. She wrapped him in a hug and nuzzled into his side. After several minutes they got back into a gentle rhythm of breathing.

Mabel felt safe and secure in his arms, just like she had before the whole awkward cuddling boner situation unfolded. Speaking of which, she could still feel tension in his pajamas, a clear hint that it hasn’t gone away yet. Not that she minded, it’s not like he could control it.

She thought again about what he had said, ‘cuddling with a pretty girl…’ She felt butterflies flutter in her stomach at the memory of those words. His words were so simple, yet so genuine. She could tell that he meant it.

She turned her head up to look at him, and found him looking down at her. His eyes were different. There was an intense energy behind them that she couldn’t name, but it made her butterflies flap even harder. The feeling of comfort mixed with nervousness inside Mabel.

He was handsome, she thought. She reached up and placed a hand on his cheek as he did the same for her, rubbing a thumb across her jaw and making her skin tingle.

They were staring each other in the eyes, briefly flickering their gazes down to each other's lips.

”Hey dudes! I got the heat fixed!” They suddenly heard Soos call up the stairs and his footsteps coming closer.

They briefly shared a look of terror before Mabel lunged to her bed, almost tripping on the blankets. She was sitting on her bed when the door creaked open and Soos peeked in.

”Hey dudes, I fixed the heat- woah! What happened?”

It was at this moment that Mabel realized how they looked. They were both red in the face and breathing heavily. Dipper was on his bed with both their blankets and Mabel was sitting on her bed awkwardly.

”You okay dude?” He asked Mabel. “You look red as a tomato.”

”Yeah, I’m fine. Just… hot.” She said as she glanced toward Dipper.

”Really?” Soos sounded puzzled. “Well if that’s the case then I guess I’ll just leave the heat off-”

“No! No!” The twins interrupted, causing Soos to jump.

“Sorry… please keep it on.” Dipper said more calmly.

Soos looked between the two of them with a mixture of suspicion and confusion. “........You got it dudes!” He said before closing the door. His footsteps soon disappeared down the stairs.

The twins looked at one another. A million thoughts ran through their heads about what just happened, and what could have happened if they were caught doing what they were just doing. Soos probably wouldn’t think anything of it. They hugged, held hands and sat side by side on the couch all the time. But this was different, there was something more to what they just shared. Mabel thought. Or hoped.

It started off as a giggle between them, but soon they were both laughing heartily, the noise bouncing around the attic and neither of them could contain themselves. Soon it died down and everything was silent again. They stared at each other for a moment before averting their gaze. Mabel felt the cold grip of embarrassment as she wrung her hands. She had no idea what to say.

“Hey.” She looked up to see him toss her blanket over to her and she caught it just in time. She spread the blanket around her bed and laid back, then looked up to see Dipper laying on his back and smoothing out his sheets and pillow. He stopped and looked over at her.

He had a gentle smile on his face that perfectly communicated how he felt, and she knew they felt the exact same way: There was something more behind what they just shared. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it was something deeply personal and intimate. And they were both totally cool with it. That made Mable’s insides goey for some reason.

“Goodnight, Mabel.”

“Goodnight, Dipper. I love you.” Every muscle in Mabel’s body tensed as she realized what she had just said. She sat motionlessly in terrified silence, wondering why she said that. Then she wondered why something she had said thousands of times suddenly felt so different. It felt as though an eternity had passed before Dipper's response came.

“I love you too, Mabel.” Her horror evaporated in a second. The icy grip of embarrassment was suddenly replaced with a gooey warmth that made her face hot and built pressure in her stomach. She wondered why something she’d heard constantly from him was suddenly turning her into such a nervous, sweaty mess. She had no clue why anything this evening had happened the way it did. All she knew was that she was in way over her head.

Uh oh.

===

The attic was warm. Well, warmer.

Mabel lies alone in her bed. She had shed her winter clothes and changed into her pajamas. There was no need now that the heating was fixed.

She was so glad to finally have a sanctuary from the frigid cold. Now they didn’t have to loiter somewhere just to stay warm. But she couldn’t feel totally at ease. She was warm enough to sleep, but she didn’t feel comfortable enough to sleep. Tonight felt incomplete, like she had unfinished business.

She laid on her side, looking at her brother. Her eyes were barely open, just a sliver as she stared at him through the darkness. He was still in his pajamas, his orange nightshirt. He was laying with his hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, seeming to be in deep thought.

She wanted so badly to be in his arms again and feel his warmth.

Mabel always thought it was cute when he made his thinking face when he didn’t think anyone was looking. The way his eyebrows would furrow and he would have a focused look in his eyes and his nose would scrunch slightly. This could be caused by any range of emotions, this time he seemed anxious.

He looked over at her, and she quickly shut her eyes. “Mabel. Mabel, are you awake?” He asked. She stayed silent. She didn’t want to talk. She was still shaken by what happened earlier, and they haven’t spoken since. She knew that any conversation they had would inevitably lead to it, and she had no idea what to say. She felt so awkward, something she rarely felt, and she hated every time she felt it.

She heard him shift slightly and could tell that he went back to staring at the ceiling. She slowly cracked her eyes open again, and saw that he had. Suddenly she felt a tickle in her nose. It was growing fast, and she couldn’t stop it before she inhaled and let out a quick sneeze.

There was a moment of silence and Mabel shut her eyes again. No doubt Dipper was looking at her. She was waiting for him to go back to looking at the ceiling so she could—

“You know it’s physically impossible to sneeze while sleeping, right?” Mabel could hear the grin on Dipper's face. Mabel cursed herself internally. Was that true? Is he just trying to trick her? Dangit Dipper!

Mabel groaned as she propped herself up on her pillow to make eye contact with him. “Ugh, jeez. You’re such a dork. Why do you know so much useless garbage.”

“It’s not useless if it came in handy, is it?” Dipper said, still smiling.

“Ugh, mega dork!”

They stared at each other for a little. Not breaking eye contact other than to blink. Dipper’s cocky grin had faded, and now his eyes seemed to be full of questions he was too afraid to ask. Mabel was sure she probably looked the same. But it wasn’t just that. There was something else in his eyes. Something powerful. Something she had only ever seen earlier when they were cuddling during their brief eye contact. It scared her.

“Can’t sleep?” Dipper broke the silence.

“Nope.”

“Still cold? I could give you my jacke—”

“No it’s not that.” Mabel felt her insides tingle at his concern. Gosh he’s such a sweetheart. “Just… lonely…” She said vaguely.

Dipper scoffed lightly. “Lonely? I’m right here!”

“Yeah, aaaaall the way over there.” Dippers eyebrows raised slightly. He seemed to understand, but didn’t say anything. He was silent for a moment, clearly thinking. He seemed nervous about whatever he was mulling about in his mind.

“Want to… come over? We could have a sleepover?”

Her smile spread into a grin and her heart began beating faster again. “Y-yes… I’d love that!” Her face erupted with a huge smile and Dipper’s face mirrored her in turn.

Wrapping herself in her blanket, she journeyed across the creaking wooden floor to Dipper’s bed. He scooted away closer to the wall to make space for her before she laid down next to him. She curled right into his chest and they intertwined their legs so just about every part of them was touching.

Whatever questions or worries they had could wait for another time. But for now, they could enjoy each other's warmth.

#myfics #pinecest

57 notes · View notes

moosoobi · 3 years

Text

Revelation

In the night: Chapter 1

T.Jeffy- Hamilton: the musical

Thomas’s interest in Y/N pulls him into a position he was previously blind to. They say every girl’s another mystery, but definitely not like this. Buckle your seatbelt Tommy, you’re in for a ride

Finally finished the first part of ITN (which is ironic since the moment I wrote this message I still haven’t finished it). I really hope I’m able to bring this story to life the way I want to and I hope y’all enjoy 😔💕. Here’s some stuff to expect:

Told from Thomas’s POV

Modern Au

College talk even though I’m literally in my second year of high school (so please bear with me)

Ruh roh moments

Sorta weird POV/storytelling (I’m new to writing fics and stuff so this is definitely a learning opportunity) Also excuse my English errors: Though this is my only language, my school system seemed to fail in teaching me how to write

Word count: 6.7k (including separators)

2 DISCLAIMERS:

TW: itty bitty angst, themes of injury/blood, etc.

I’m not the best story writer, so after reading this chapter you may have many questions. Please keep in mind that this is one chapter out of (about) 10. Things that you may not understand in this chapter will most likely be explained in future chapters.

-Now Playing: In The Night by The Weeknd-

My God, she’s perfect

The way the sunlight reflects off of her glass skin. The sincerity in every word, every letter that she writes with her only pencil. To be that flawless, it’s a mystery to me. She takes a glance at me. Did she feel me staring? I duck down my head in embarrassment.

“Jefferson, you oughta put that scholarship to good use”

Professor Washington boomed to the entire class. I hear a fragment of her giggle. Her laugh is soft and naïve. I couldn't help but smile at the sound of her happiness.

Washington is right, though. It's my first semester after I came back from my student exchange program over in France and I can already feel my sanity slipping. France was a beauty to visit, so many customs and cultures I wish I could be flourished in right now.

But there was one thing great about going to school in New York: I get to sit in a classroom with Y/N L/N.

I’ve never talked to her formally, at least not yet. She’s always sitting alone, never answers any questions, but Professor Washington makes the class acknowledge her perfect test scores and fascinating interpretations

As the bell rings I watch her stand swiftly. Is she in a rush? I can't help but watch as her hair is flung over her shoulder. She stuffs her notebooks and singular pencil into her burgundy-magenta backpack. Hey, at least she has good taste in color.

I don’t think you understand

She sits alone everyday during lunch, yet she never looks bothered. Her energy is so compelling to me. A feeling about her that I cannot comprehend, something that feels greater than my existence. I just got to know.

“Thomas, you gotta work on staring at people less noticeable” James catches my attention by pointing his fork a little too close to my face.

I was staring? Again?

I shake my head to snap back to reality

“The great Thomas Jefferson is interested in someone for longer than 30 seconds. I gonna be honest with you Thom, that’s impressing”

I hear James laugh as he violently stabs a few pieces of pasta onto his fork.

James has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. We went to the same middle and high school down in Virginia, and just coincidentally ended up going to the same college in New York.

We’re always there for each other. I remember cheering for him at a high school assembly after he won a story writing challenge, he’s such a nerd. Then again, he had to drive me home a couple of times after I failed multiple driving tests.

Back in high school, James was the Chess Club Champion, a title he always shoved down my throat. It’s no secret why, though. He’s really good at thinking things through, While I on the other hand tend to dive headfirst into the abyss.

“Shut it James” I sarcastically retort, taking a sip of the expensive chocolate milk which my scholarship supposedly pays for

Hey, can I sit here?

I talked to her during class. Her voice is angelic: Now, I’m not one to be religious and all, but that voice could get me on my knees praying for forgiveness. My ego couldn’t get me anywhere at all, as if she already knew my tactics, she knew my flirts, and how? I guess it just adds to her mystery.

“C'mon! that one works every time!” I whine

“Don't be so full of yourself Jefferson, I’ve heard them all before” A smile danced across her face

She did, however, laugh at some of my remarks. It's good to know that she has a sense of humor. My jokes of Professor Washington’s shiny, bald head. The jokes of Professor Washington’s assistant, John Adams, who’s suspiciously absent considering he signed up for this job.

Heck, I would even make fun of myself if it meant I got to hear that graceful laugh one more time- actually, that might be a little too far.

Many days of giggling in class came after that day. I can see her starting to open up to my friends and I, like she’s spreading her wings and showing us the greatness that lies behind the social wall that she put up years ago. Even when we got in trouble for a little too much giggling in the back of the class, I sacrificed my own pride so she didn’t have to. Yes, I, Thee Thomas Jefferson, did that.

---

Even though I could see the social wall she put up, I knew one day Y/n would fall for my charming pick up lines, or maybe I just happened to have a lucky day:

“Y/N I need some a some help with my math homework”

Y/N glances over to me in concern. I fake a scared expression.

“Quick!” I swiftly grab her shoulder and shake her “What’s your phone number?”

She playfully smacks my arm

---

Obtaining her number felt like a rite of passage, like I’m important to her, like she wants me in her life. I couldn’t stop smiling that day, and of course James just had to make a comment on it.

“Thomas, if you keep smiling like that I’m going to start thinking that your sick or something”

James said as he shut my laptop, tired of waiting for me to pack my things.

“Now that's REAL ironic coming from you, James”

I raised an eyebrow as my laugh begins to come up my throat. I take my closed laptop and shove it somewhere into my backpack.

“Okay, leaving for a month in sophomore year just because of a little fever doesn’t make ‘being sick’ as part of my trade mark”

James playfully smacked the back of my head. Thankfully, my curls serve as protection, not just to make me sinfully handsome. James and I walk out of the freezing lecture hall and were hit with the crisp-coldness of New York.

To the right of me I catch a glimpse of that eye catching burgundy-magenta backpack as it’s thrown into the trunk of a shiny, expensive car. My feet keep its motion as my head turns to see Y/N standing at the door of the car.

“Yo, is that Y/N?” I hear James whisper behind me “and who’s that?”

My attention is suddenly drawn to the tall man walking around the car to open her door. His curly hair is pulled into a small bun and the smile he had on his face broke apart the stubble on his jaw. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion.

“I’m just as clueless as you are”

Keeping my glance on Y/N and the man, I watch as the man opens the door for her. My stomach turns as I watch Y/N smile back at him as she sits in the car.

For a split second, I swear I saw her shoot a soft glance at me. My feet almost stop in their tracks before I feel James’ hand yank me onto another pathway.

“I’m all for you being head over heels, but we’re gonna be late to our study session with Angie”

Reality starts to set back into my head.

“Right, lets dip.”

---

“So little Tommy is Infatuated with this woman?”

Angie’s eyes are piercing, and her luscious hair frames her face in a saintly manner. She slips off her baby pink coat to ease into her library seat. Her eyebrow raises as she takes a sip of her steaming coffee

Of course James wouldn’t shut his mouth, especially around the notorious Angelica Schuyler.

Angie’s pretty popular here, I find myself wondering why she has so many connections, yet it’s not just any reason(s) why she seems to be in the spotlight.

1: She’s the oldest Schuyler. Her last name definitely got her places, not like I’m one to talk. Everyone seems to know her, not just at school, but all around New York City, and with her 5,000 Instagram followers, her first name’s starting to catch up with her last name in popularity

2: Angie’s Daddy has money money. And that’s no secret when she decides to walk around campus with her designer handbags and shoes. I tend to think she always gets what she wants, but I know deep down, she’s never gonna be satisfied. Maybe it’s just a side effect of growing up with a silver spoon in your mouth

And finally,

3: Miss Schuyler here is Bold. She’s never afraid to put both me and James in our place. It’s almost as if she can’t be touched by anyone’s thoughts of her, then again the gossip in NYC is terribly insidious. With such grace and respect, Angelica is not afraid to throw your opinion into the ground.

“Yeah I swear, Jefferson would’ve gotten run over if I didn’t pull him onto the pathway” James attempted to tone down his laugh so the librarian wouldn’t stab him with those old, sharp eyes

“She-...”

For the first time, I didn’t know how to recoil

“..Just caught me off guard.”. In an attempt to change the topic, I flipped through the pages of his textbook.

Angelica and James shared an astonished glance at Thomas before looking at each other. I could hear James shrug and flipping open his textbook. I lift my head as I hear Angelica dig through her bag

“Alright let’s get started” Angie claps her hands together with determination

—-

It’s been 2 hours of studying in the ghostly library. Unfortunately, I can’t avoid the talk forever.

“Hey Thomas, why don’t you invite her to our next study session?”

Angelica smirked as she rudely shut my laptop. I desperately imagine the day where both James and Angelica leave me alone. I angrily glare up at her, but she has a good idea

“Actually, that’s not to bad of an idea” I ponder for a moment before retrieving my phone from my pocket

Thomas: Hey Y/N, u free this week?

Hmm. Is this okay? Nah it’s too straight forward. I sigh as I deleted and retyped the message

Thomas: Greetings Ms. L/N, this is Mr. Jefferson from class. Would you delight me by partaking in a study session?

What the heck Jefferson? I began to get frustrated from this nonsense. It’s just a text, why am I getting so anal over it?

Thomas: Hey Y/N, ds@insdas/19z7dnesdc-

Angelica, who was watching me the entire time, snatched the phone from my hands. I attempted to protest, yet Angelica Schuyler knows how to hold her ground.

“Angie wh-”

“I’ll do you a favor, Jefferson.” She said sternly. There was no way I was getting that phone back, heck, I would be lucky if I got it back in one piece

“Aaaaand sent!” I heard her squeal

Angelica suddenly tossed the phone to me and I fumbled it between my hands before I held it stably. I check to see the text that Angelica sent from my phone

Thomas: Hey this is Thomas from class, wanna come study with us at the library sometime?

Oh. It was that easy.

“Thanks Angie”

I shove my phone back in my pocket. Part of me was excited to have an excuse to text Y/N, yet I do wonder how awkward it would be if she rejected the offer. I mean, she already has the perfect grades, why would she need the extra help?

I start to rethink my decision.

—-

It wasn’t until 11 pm at night until I got a reply from Y/N. Beforehand, I arrived at my apartment around 8 pm. As soon as my door shut, the room was filled with growls indicating my current problem: hunger. That could only be solved with one solution: microwavable mac and cheese.

My phone dinged while I was laying motionless on my bed. My apartment was right next to the street, and all I could hear was the busy streets of New York City.

My eyes opened as I turned to my charging phone.

Y/N: yeah I’m down :) just send a time and place and I’ll be on my way

I was filled with joy, so much that I couldn’t wait another second to reply.

Thomas: Alright, we meet at the library after our class. Can you make it?

Seeing the three dots jump melodically made my stomach feel as if two fairies were dancing throughout my body. Any second now, any second. ding!

Y/N: sounds good!

I guess it’s settled, I get to hang out with the puzzling Y/N L/N, and maybe I’ll get to learn a bit more about her. But just because it’s a study session doesn’t mean I can’t show her what a southern gentleman looks like, and for the first time, I’m so excited to study

---

James, Y/N, and I walk out of professor Washington’s class, laughing our asses off over some stupid joke. Everyone around us appears to be annoyed, especially with having to sit through almost two hours of my friends and I laughing in the back of the class, but it’s not like I care.

Once we’re hit by the bitter cold of New York, my eyes are immediately drawn to that expensive car. So familiar and so faint in head, the memory of Y/N smiling as she hopped into his car replays in my brain.

“I’ll be back guys”

Y/N excuses herself from the group before lightly jogging to the car. Her hair was graceful in the wind, and her burgundy-magenta backpack didn’t seem to weigh her down at all. For a split second, my brain acknowledges that mysterious man in the driver’s seat. There was a moment of awkward eye contact with him, his cold eyes pierced through me before my attention was drawn back to Y/N. She fixes her hair and jacket.

That was cute.

What?

James and I watch Y/N before turning to each other. I suggest to James that we wait for her, show a little southern hospitality. Even though Y/N seems to be fond of this man, he gives off a mysterious vibe similar to Y/N’s, but I do not want to unravel that mystery at all.

Seeing him throw a smirk at Y/N causes discomfort in my stomach.

Y/N comes prancing back to us, an embarrassed smile on her face. Behind her, that shiny, expensive car begins to drive away.

“My bad, I forgot to tell my roommate that I would be out late”

“That’s your roommate?” James asks, attempting to hide his curiosity and shock

“and he takes you home after class?” I interrupt briefly

Y/N nervously laughs before nodding “something like that, he just..”

That pause was a little too long

“..doesn’t like me out of the house too late so he volunteers to drive me home all the time”

I shrug it off before jumping at the feeling of James’ warm hands pulling Y/N and I to the direction of the library. Y/N and I look at him with confusion

“What? Angie doesn’t like when we’re late, remember?” James says, practically dragging us to the Library

—-

“Nice to meet you”

Angelica and Y/N got along pretty well. I can tell Angie was happy to finally have a girl to hangout with rather than having to deal with me and James only. She’s already starting to resemble a sisterly figure to Y/N, then again, growing up with two sisters must’ve prepared Angie for this moment.

I don’t hear much about the other Schuylers, but I am familiar with them. Angelica is the oldest, as we know. Her first sister, Eliza Sch- I’m pretty sure she got married, is the nicest person you’ll meet. Whoever won her surely must be worthy, because we all know people like me wouldn’t get anywhere near Eliza thanks to her older sister. Her youngest sister, Margarita Peggy Schuyler, is just like Angelica.

Stubborn. As. Fuck.

I’m confident that Angelica has taught her that philosophy since she was born. Anyway, Peggy is currently living her dreams in Southern California. Not sure what she does, but I’m sure she’s financially stable, she is a Schuyler after all.

All of us struggle to not annoy the librarian, let alone the entire library. I watch as Y/N opens up, just a little more, to Angelica, James, and I.

Hours pass as we clown around in the library. From actually completing class work to a small drawing competition between James and I, I was certainly having a good time, and so was everyone else.

It was pleasing to see Y/N more laid back rather than how she acts in class. In front of Professor Washington she’s so ‘put together’ and organized, but surrounded by her friends she’s such an amazing person, her range in professionalism and humor is astounding.

I can’t seem to ignore the fact that Angelica notices the way I look at Y/N. It’s definitely not in my strong suit to be ‘low key’, I’m known for dramatic entrances and stealing the spotlight. She smiles when I make eye contact with her, and I’m pretty sure it’s just her way of annoying me, but I can’t help the way I look at Y/N. She really is an angel sent down from heaven, disguised as a college student, and I’m just lucky enough to be her friend.

I’m blind to her flaws. When I see her, I feel like a tourist glancing at the Mona Lisa, memorizing every curve of her face, the way her hair falls around her shoulders, and the way the library lighting reflects off of her glowing skin.

What felt like a sledgehammer breaking a slab of fragile glass, I see Y/N’s phone light up. Even across the table I can read the word “Lafayette” off of her phone. I can’t lie, it surely sounds familiar.

When she finally noticed her phone flash on, I feel her ease turn into worry, and it definitely didn’t go unnoticed by James, Angie, and I. She starts to pack away her books

“My bad guys, I really gotta go”

Y/N said notably panicking. Her phone flashes once again, yet the only thing that seems to catch my eyes is the bold “7:30” spread across the top of her phone.

“Are you okay by yourself?” I asked, trying my best not to pry into her business

“Yeah, my roommates here to pick me up, I don’t want to make him wait” she tried to play it off, but I’m learning to see right through her

“Alright, see you next time Y/N” I shrug it off

She sends my friends and I a quick smile before replying

“for sure”

Angelica and James got back to work without saying a word, and I could tell they were waiting until she was gone to start teasing me. I eased back into my chair before flipping the pages of my notebook

I watched as she shoved open the library door and disappeared into the darkness. She’s such a mystery, when I feel like she’s opening up, she just shuts the door and we’re back at square one. Though I do claim to love a good challenge, Y/N L/N, I will never understand you.

—-

And that’s when it started. It wasn’t just one time where 7:30 was Y/N magic number, oh no, it was oddly consistent. I’m convinced that Y/N is some variation of Cinderella; her polite attitude and the beautiful little things she does without acknowledging it all vanish when the clock strikes 8:00, but that’s just one of many theories made by James.

Another study session with James and Angelica, and Y/N’s flashing screen still compelled Y/N to leave the library without a trace. On some occasions we don’t even notice her escape, we just turn to see her seat empty and feel the faint wind from outside as the library door slowly closes.

One day Angie bought us all tickets to see the preview to the newest, scariest movie I’ve ever watched. I was accompanied by Y/N, James, and Angie, yet their presences made it worse. Halfway through the bucket of popcorn and the movie, Y/N suddenly stood up and left after saying those 5 words. Before she left, I felt the warmth of her hands leave the place on my arm.

I never knew how addicting her warmth would be until it was already gone.

“Sorry guys, I gotta go” The weak smile on her face instantly resonated feelings of sympathy and understanding.

From then on, Y/N and I grew closer as friends. We’d fool around at a local park before heading to campus, obviously sparking a few observations and remarks from James. I’d invite her to fancy dinners, or maybe even a small festival down the road from my apartment, yet her response would always be proven false at the moment she’d leave me and my thoughts at 7:30.

But that hasn’t stopped me from attempting to hang out with her. Even on the days I wouldn’t have class with her we’d go out and get ice cream, study at the park, I guess you can say we’ve gone on a few ‘dates’ since our initial study session.

Whenever we’re apart, I can feel every second expanding to its maximum capacity of time. I wouldn’t see her for a day and it will already feel like years since I’ve seen her. The days I do see her, time seems to maneuver a little too fast. When I recall hanging out with Y/N, all I can imagine is the feeling of floating above the clouds every time she and I made physical contact. Like a rock being dropped into still water, ever touch ripples throughout my body, sending shivers down my spine.

Truly incredible.

—-

She doesn’t like to talk about her personal life, and I find that quite odd. I’m usually one to continue rambling every detail of every trait of mine, yet I find myself yearning to learn more about her.

We text every now and then when we’re outside of class, a little more to be considered ‘just friends’. There’s always a story which unravels just a little more of Y/N’s past, and she’s left me on my own to connect the dots. I must say, she’s definitely an interesting gal, but I know there’s more to discover.

She’s a native New Yorker, born and raised, surviving by splitting an intense rent with her mysterious room mate. Y/N doesn’t talk much of her family, other than faint memories of her mother single handedly raising her and her little brother, who I’m fairly unaware of.

Going into college undecided, Y/N describes her want to learn more about herself before she’s able to make any life determining choices. I’ve noticed that her schedule seems like a labyrinth avoiding life problems and obstacles, so perhaps being placed in the same class coincidentally was just fate playing its part.

Y/N loves to explain her dream for workless weekends, moments in the week where she just gets to sit back, close her eyes, and breathe a little. With finals starting to appear from thin air, I can’t blame her for a dream so far from reality.

Even with the knowledge I hold of her, something never seems to change: her disappearances at 7:30.

It’s always that damn 7:30.

7:30--the cliffhanger your favorite show leaves you desiring for more

the end of a fun night of laughter and glee, wishing it lasted just a little longer

the off-set energy in a room when those around you know something you don’t.

As days, weeks, and months pass since my first text proposal to hang out at the library, Y/N and I become a little closer than just friends. It’s been obvious, especially to James and Angie, that Y/N is more than capable of holding my attention.

Though James is worried that Y/N will just become ‘another girl’ to me, concerning my tomcat nature in the past, he can see the potential I see in her. I find myself wishing I did spend more time with her, maybe I just need to make a better effort.

I’ll prove James and Angie wrong.

Filled with determination and confidence, in the midst of my silent room, I whip out my phone and direct my attention towards forming a text message for Y/N

Thomas: let’s get coffee sometime?

Jefferson charm, don’t fail me now.

---

Before I knew it, Y/N and I were feasting on exotic cheeses and aged wine in my New York apartment. I hit play on a random romcom which helps to fill the emptiness in my apartment and ironically the thin space between Y/N and I.

I have no idea how to make my move. Though I’m not aware of my competition, I imagine if Y/N could attract someone of My caliber, I should be well aware of the things she’s capable of. Originally I planned to court her-- I know, I know, I’m a man of tradition--yet after James caught on to my recognizable frustration, He suggested I go for it.

This is surprising on multiple occasions, especially since James possesses the ‘brains’ between the both of us. Being the chess club champion, ‘talk’ won’t aid you when you're struggling in a chess match. Just like how he meticulously plays chess, he examines my situation and provides his Virginian insight, or so he prefers to call it, and they always proceed the way his scheme describes.

I’ve adhered his advice to my life ever since we were kids, and when I didn’t, he’d simply reply with:

“I told you so”

His smug smirk accompanied with a finger pointing to his temple would soon transform from clever to annoying.

I feel a vibration come from my pocket. Well, of course it’s not Y/N texting so must I really answer it? I pull out my phone despite my doubts and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

James: 👍

Speak of the Devil.

But enough about James. I understand that both Y/N and I are mature college students, yet I still fear the disruption in our friendship I can provoke just by making my move. I’ve gotten this far; If she wasn’t interesting I’m sure she would’ve rejected me sooner.

She’s different, she’s unique, something about her that I just can’t place, but also something missing. Anyway, this is probably my best chance at shooting my shot at Y/N, and it’s too late now to back down.

As my lips part in an attempt to speak and make a move, Y/N’s motionless phone (currently laying undisturbed on my coffee table) suddenly brightens with the most obnoxious ringtone I’ve ever heard. The words “It’s 7:30!” flash on her screen, almost as if it was warning her rather than reminding her.

“Y/N—” my eyes follow her body as she swiftly stands up

“I gotta g—” I watch as she attempts to grab her purse, yet her body is limited when I firmly grab her arm. She looks back to me with tiredness in her eyes.

Part of me thought maybe, just maybe, Cinderella here wouldn’t have a curfew. That I somehow would be the exemption to this consistent confusion . But you can only daydream so far into the day until you’re pulled back into your reality

Her entire demeanor seems like it was reconstructed after her alarm went off. Moments ago she was just enjoying tasty cheese and cheesy movies, and the worst part is, I have no idea why.

“Let me speak, darlin’”

I stand up to avoid the way her eyes look down on me. I can’t stand that pitiful glare; she looks at me as if I’m a child incapable of understanding her situation, but she’s too stubborn to let me know. I’d be wise to use this time to make a move on different circumstances.

“Now, you’re always leaving at seven thirty..”

Her sigh is almost enough to interrupt me

“..why’s that? Talk to me.”

I maintain my eye contact before it’s abruptly broken. She looks everywhere but my eyes, and I wonder where in my apartment she would find an excuse, yet still manages to dodge the question.

“..you wouldn’t understand..” she scoffs almost intentionally, honestly scratching a part of my ego. I hate to admit she’s right, I really don’t understand what’s going on.

I cock my head to the side. Where’s this coming from?

“Darlin’, I’m sure I’m a very understanding person—”

“—I need to leave”

I could tell by the look of her face that she wasn’t trying to argue, but it’s inevitable.

“Why can’t you just tell me?..” I put my hands up as a sign of defeat, but I’m not giving up yet. “We’ve been friends for a while and you’re always leavin’ at seven—”

“I know! I know..” she removes my hand from her arm, clearly refusing to look up at me.

“Let’s just say..I got a job..?”

Oh. That’s what this is all about? A job? She couldn’t spare at least an explanation for a part time gig?

“See? That wasn’t so hard”

“It’s..really embarrassing..” The glance she takes around the room makes me wonder if she’s really telling the truth. it’s not really my place to speculate, there’s no going back from this.

“It’s alright, it’s just a job after all” I claim, trying to get this conversation back on track

“This is exactly what I meant but ‘you wouldn’t understand’”

Huh?

“You don’t know what it feels like to have your life rely on minimum wage—” she sounds like she’s holding something back.

“Y/N wher—”

“A-and here you are makin’ me late for work” her eyes appear on the verge of crying.

“darlin’ look..”

“God, you’ve never had to work for anything in your life!”

Silence.

Both of us refuse to speak. Y/N phone, still on the table, chimes again. “7:35” it said on its bright screen.

“Is that really how you feel?..” I take a step back to give her space. She still refuses to look at me.

There’s no way she’d cause all this chaos just because of a job. And even if she believes I’ve piggy backed off of my name for my entire life, why would it matter to her?

“I..I should leave” before I could process what just happened, she swiftly tosses her phone into her bag and heads for the door.

“Y’know, I had a nice time..” was all I heard before the harsh shutting of my apartment door.

And that was the end of it.

My first thought after the door shut wasn’t to whip out my phone and attempt to text her, it certainly wasn’t to call James and inform him of his miscalculation, but instead to attend to the matter at hand. This cheese and wine won’t clean itself.

And the night continued normally, as if nothing had ever taken place. I couldn’t help but microwave another cup of Mac and cheese to cope with what Y/N said. Nothin’ like a good meal to divert your attention away from your problems. But even a good cup of cheese and pasta can’t stop me from thinking’:

Is that all I am to her?

A southern snob incapable of functioning without their father’s last name?

After an introspective shower, and a few episodes of a random Netflix show, I’m finally alone with my thoughts and feelings. I lie in darkness, tussling and turning at every occasion, unable to extract her words from my mind.

If there’s someone whose opinion I care about the most, it’s Y/N L/N. I consider texting her at this very moment, yet I’m sure that I’m the last person she wants to talk to. The weight of my actions falls heavily onto my shoulders every minute, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Give her space, Jefferson, and maybe you’ll be able to fix this tragedy.

---

Knock! Knock! Knock!

The knocks on my apartment door were enough to jerk my body back to consciousness. Sadly pulled from the warmth of my dreams, I’m hit with the cold, noisy reality of an average night here in New York.

Can my day get any worse?

Coming straight from the depths of slumber, I take a few minutes to process reality. Maybe the knocks were in my head. Did I dream about someone knocking on my door? Perhaps it’s

The sun’s still not up yet, why am I?

Groggily sitting up, I decide to check the time, yet it takes me multiple attempts to grab my phone in the dark before I catch a sight of the time.

2 am?!

Who is so out of their minds so show up to my apartment at this time? Who do I know that would show up at this time?

James is too sensible for that,

Angie would never waste her time on me, for whatever reason,

And Y/N—

well.

I don’t know our circumstances right now.

I debate whether or not I should answer the door. Perhaps it’s just rock that happened to hit the door of my apartment, and even if it is a person, I’m not aware of anyone so mad to show up in the middle of the night. it’s not worth my time.

...

Knock! Knock! Knock!

So much for ‘Not worth my time’. A groan is all my body can respond with while I gradually stand from the comfort of my bed. I grab the nearest shirt, which was draped over my desk chair, and scramble to put it on. Passing my cramped kitchen, my hands subconsciously flip on the nearest light switches, while my eyes struggle to comprehend the sudden light.

Before I reach the door, I couldn’t help but attempt to fix my hair. Just because someone happens to show up outside unannounced doesn’t mean I can’t present my best rendition of a southern gentleman.

And finally, through my fatigue and irritation, I’m finally urged to grab the doorknob and twist it open in one motion.

“Uh, it’s two a.m. so I hope--”

I nervously scratch the back of my head, attempting to add spice to this awkward encounter. It wasn’t until my eyes caught sight of the blood dripping down her glass skin and the meeting of our eyes did I have any words

“Y/N?!?”

Her cold, pale, and hurt body would’ve hit the concrete floor if I had answered the door any later.

---

And there she layed half colorless on my bed. Her smile was full of embarrassment and gratitude as I sat beside her, tending to the evident cuts and Injured areas of her body. “I hope I’m being a great house guest” she joked, causing her to laugh, yet hurting herself in the process.

“Hey, Hey, Take it easy..” Y/N’s presence usually fills me with carefreeness, or perhaps stability, but for the first time I can’t help but react seriously. Her demeanor changed as she saw my retaliation to her joke.

“I guess…” she looked down to her fragile body, a sigh released, seeming to be an attempt to calm down. “...I owe you an explanation for earlier. And especially for showing up at your place at 2 in the damn morning. ”

Thomas’ hands, full of wipes and hydrogen peroxide soaked cotton balls, froze in their tracks before he looked up at her, eager to listen and visibly confused. Y/N visibly winced as the cotton balls stuck to her cuts for longer than they should’ve, yet with Thomas’ reflexes at their all-time-max, he pulled them away with a worried expression.

“Explanation? You said you got a job, and I’m sorry for not respecting it..” I continued to clean her up, consensually of course, how could I call myself a gentleman if I were to act upon improper motives?

“Again..” I utter quietly “..I didn’t know you felt that way, and I’m ashamed you feel that way”

I attach an ivory-colored band aid to her glass skin, careful not to damage it any further. I look up to her watching, pitiful eyes. “You were saying?” I reciprocate the attention to her, awaiting a so-called answer to come out of her mouth

“I didn’t know where else to run to..” she attempted to sit up, lifting her weight off of my satin-covered sheets, yet quickly stopped when being hit with a wave of pain from her right shoulder

Though my first thought would’ve been ‘Damn it, my darn sheets are ruined’, it was quickly drawn to Y/N and her current problem

“Y’know, I think an apology and explanation can wait, Y/N. you need a little sleep, it’s already three in the mornin’ for god’s sake” a small laugh erupts from her

I sent her an assuring smile, trying to remind her that everything is always going to be okay in a Jefferson household. And surprisingly I received a smile in return, a smile of trust and security that I’ve never felt so glad to see. Of course, I wish I could’ve seen that smile under different circumstances, but I’ll work with what I got.

I stood from my beautiful satin sheets and reached for a hoodie on my swivel chair. (everything but your closet is a closet, change my mind) I braced for a cold night on my apartment couch while Y/N enjoys the warmth of my bed, but Y/N had other plans.

“Wait- Thomas.” She said firmly

I turned tiredly to her direction, my arm already extended for the door, yet frozen in place as I awaited a response

“Can you just..” she scoot herself over, as much as possible with her frail body “..hold me?” She watches me anxiously

“I mean— you don’t have to b—” I didn’t hesitate at all to gently slide under the sheets of the bed. As soon as I turn to her direction, I can’t help but feel scared to touch her in fear of hurting her; my hands don’t know where to reside. “Where do I..” I’m truly perplexed

She giggled at my confusion and shyly grabbed my hand “I’m not so fragile you know”

She brought my hand up to the side of her head, and all I could process was the texture of the bandages under my fingertips. I don’t know what's going on, but I couldn’t just leave her out there.

“..Right..” I wait for her eyes to close before I can even think about closing mine, and soon the texture of the bandages seem to melt onto my fingertips as I’m finally able to return to my slumber.

“See you in the mornin’..”

---

I didn’t wake up until I felt the sun rays kissing my back through my so-called ‘blackout curtains’. Such a scam. The room seemed a little too quiet; I gently turned onto my other side just to find an empty bed. I consider the possibility of last night’s encounter with Y/N was all just some messed up dream, but when I saw the faint stains of blood on my sheets, I knew I was far from dreaming.

My body doesn’t want to move, and I’m stuck sitting up in my bed for another ten minutes. What the heck is going on? One minute she yells at me, then next thing I know she’s outside my apartment at 2 am.

And that explanation.

I guess I was such a fool to think she wouldn’t continue to run away from this matter. My thoughts are interrupted by my buzzing phone. I know for sure that it’s not Y/N hittin up my phone right about now.

James: Let’s try that new coffee place a few blocks from your apartment?

He really read my mind, or maybe it’s a response made from calculating my failure yesterday. But a distraction sounds tremendous.

Thomas: bet.

I throw on a cleaner, more professional jacket, if such a thing exists, and swiftly get my feet out the door. Everything seems the same, as if nothing had taken place last night. The world still spins and I’m expected to spin with it.

I don’t think I’m anywhere near capable of unraveling your mystery.

Y/N L/N, I will never understand you.

#thomas jefferson fanfic #thomas jefferson #Daveed Diggs #daveed x reader #thomas x reader #alexander hamilton #hamilton fanfic #hamiltonau #Angelica Schuyler #james madison #marquis de Lafayette #lafayette x reader #lafayette #george washington #washington #John Laurens #hercules mulligan #thomas jefferson x reader

82 notes · View notes

strigital · 3 years

Note

Do tell about Nim, I couldn’t find much info about her through your blog and I am dying to know more about this werewolf lady

well grab a pint and sit yo booty down, cause our bard of the evening tonight is Nim and she's drunk as all hell and ready to weave some outrageous stories!! 🍻

in all seriousness, thank you for asking! 😭💗 she came about back in ye oldie days of hype over the 11th of november 2011, and since then refuses to give up the title of my fav oc!!

now, a Paarthurnax would say: lets-a go!

a quick recap of the events in Skyrim:

Naali Saryn was born sometime in 4E 130 on mainland Morrowind as a result of a quick fling between an unknown Dunmer girl and Lucien Lachance and Kassandra Saryn's (The Hero of Kvatch's) son.

Sometime in that year, the baby was found aboard a ship bound for Raven Rock and when no one came forth to claim her a couple of elderly and childless ash yam farmers decided to take her in until her family was found.

The family, of course, was never found, and so they raised her as their own for the next sixteen years. They called the girl Nim - short, sweet, meaningless, and easy to shout out into the fields where the little brat is out adventuring when the house chores are yet to be done.

Nim grew up alongside her best friend Teldryn (don't believe his tales about his past, there's a reason why he wears a helmet in his hometown). For years the kids dreamt of leaving Raven Rock behind and making it big in the big city. And idea which really annoyed Nim's ol' Nana, who believed that everything needed for a simple happy life was right here on Solstheim.

After one particularly nasty fight with Nana about the ordeal, Nim gathered a bag of things and slipped out in the dead of night to catch an early morning ship with Teldryn.

They stuck together for a while then went on their separate merry ways. He - to Blacklight, she - to Leyawiin. Once in the wild, Nim had to quickly figure out her place in the pecking order. The romantic life of crime seemed to be the most attractive for her, but getting on top could never be easy. Especially for a young, inexperienced, and naive girlie. So she ended up running with the wrong kind of crew. Ended up in some truly dark places. Barely got out alive. Learned from her mistakes. Wore the scars of abuse like armor and made sure that since that day no one in this world or any other would play her for a fool, use her or put a finger on her without her permission.

By the time she turned fifty, Nim was well known amongst certain circles as the kind of scoundrel, thief, bard, and wench one should not trifle with. But her luck had to eventually run out, and so it did on the night of the fabled Umbacano Mansion heist, which failed so badly Nim had to either leave Cyrodiil or end up in a Thalmor owned torture chamber.

Skyrim seemed like a perfect place. After all, in a kingdom torn apart by the civil war, no one would even notice yet another greyskin refugee, right? Well, the Thalmor did. And so she ended up on a cart bound for Helgen to have a date with an executioner. But then Alduin showed up to crash the party before he himself got rudely interrupted by another dragon, who swooped in to save the Last Dragonborn.

After the narrow escape, Nim concluded her duty to warn Balgruuf of the dragon threat and went on to start a new career as a merc with the Companions. She and Aela became fast friends and when the prospect of joining the Circle came up she gladly accepted a sip of her new sister's blood. To never again be helpless and weak? To rip apart any fool who'd take her for just another elf wench who can't put up a fight? Well of course it was worth giving up the ability to sleep and having to get used to all smells suddenly becoming ten times worse!

After that Mirmulnir showed up and ended up as another ornament above the throne in the Dragonsreach. And Nim got stuck with a title which she would wear with great discontent for years to come.

Eventually, she ceased trying to run away and hide from her destiny, accepted her role as the Last Dragonborn, and begrudgingly began her quest to save the world. On her journey, she met and became tight friends with Yollokmir and Alasil who taught her how to speak, fight and fly like a dragon. With their help she inherited Konahrik's legacy: his mask embued with his soul, his citadel far up in the mountains - the NebenLok Zeikangaar - and the right to revive and lead the order of dragon riders sworn to defeat Alduin - DovahDein.

As she gained power and the word of her great many deeds spread across Skyrim, she managed to get quite the following of fellow men, mer, and Dov, willing to follow her into Sovngarde and beat the hell out of Alduin. Alas, she failed. Twice.

At that point, Alasil informed her of a special someone who might be of help in their quest against Alduin and who might prove difficult to convince to join her cause. That was the first time in fifty years that Nim got to visit her home. Unfortunately, Solstheim had changed. And upon arrival, she learned that her Pa passed onto the realm of Azura soon after her departure, and her Nana... well, she wasn't young anymore and suffered greatly due to all the ash ruining her lungs... and when the islanders got called to the All-Maker stones night after night by a mysterious spell, she just worked herself to death. That was the only thing Nim wouldn't forgive Miraak for, not until he swallowed his pride and sincerely apologized for being responsible for his potential mother-in-law's death.

And with Miraak's help, they finally sent Alduin back to his Maker, enjoyed a few peaceful years until High King Ulfric became a bit drunk on his power and needed a good ass whooping as well. Then Miraak suddenly found himself as the new king and Nim... she just did her own thing. As always. The end?

Oh and all the while running about, gathering forces, growing her Dragonborn powers, hunting Dragon Priests and Alduin's henchmen, she also meddled with the Thieves Guild, put Karliah in charge and became her right hand, managed to become an advisor on all things dragon at the Mage's College, ended up teaching lute and songwriting at the Bard's College (she's taking a break since Viarmo can't seem to handle her teaching tactics), earned the title of Thane in every hold and became a good friend to the Dawnguard fellas (Isran is more than happy to teach her kids the ropes of monster hunting) after kicking Harkon's ass into Oblivion. In what little free time she has Nim also manages the Lakeview Manor and leases the ash yam farm back in Raven Rock for some extra cash. All in all, a busy woman!

and some tidbits about the dovahmom:

Although Nim is perfectly aware of her real name, she chooses to use the one given to her by Nana. Both as a sign of respect and because, frankly, she dislikes both the Sarynes and the Lachances, who are, in her humble opinion, just a bunch of pricks. Somehow, the ghost of her murdered grandad finds this opinion of hers kinda funny.

Her friends sometimes describe her as "cyrodiilic brandy in a cup of tea": she's this small elf girl with pretty blue eyes and a smile on her face and you think that she'll be very pleasant and cute and shy and then... then you realize she drinks like a sailor, swears like one too, can beat anyone into the dirt (thanks, Hircine) and doesn't take shit from nobody. She openly speaks her mind and doesn't give a shit about what someone might think of her. She does what she considers the right thing to do, never plays nice with those she dislikes, never pretends to be someone she isn't. She's feisty, sassy, brassy, and, quite honestly, just doesn't give a fuck.

Nim is in almost complete control over her inner beast, partly thanks to her draconic blood, partly - to the ring she got when she and Sinding had that little party on a moonlit night in that grotto. She only loses control over herself when both moons are full and thusly will travel deep into the wilds a few days before the magical night. This way the only people that might get hurt are bandits, necromancers, hags, and the like. She and Aela also managed to get a small werewolf pack going, named the Whitemane Pack after the old man himself and dedicated to those who wish to take control over their inner beast, hunt with honor, and cause the Silver Hand as much grief as possible.

Nim is raising Blaise and Sofie as her own since they both were just wee lil' war orphans (the babes are in their teens now). She never quite really knew why... Nim was never a wifey nor a baby momma kind of woman. In fact, she can't even have children in the first place and, honestly, always thought of this as a blessing - never having to worry about contraception like all those other girls and just having fun without a care in the world! Her friends sometimes joke around, saying that she might've finally "ripened" for the motherhood, but she doesn't care. She loves Blaise, Sofie, and Sissel (thanks, Miraak, you're so good at kidnapping children!) and is content with being their famous Dragonborn mom. Post-Alduin Miraak, however, is secretly annoyed for not being able to get her pregnant. Oh well, the man can dream...

Oh yeah! Nim plays the lute and sings too! It's a skill she picked up across taverns all over the continent when she realized that bards get free drinks and a bed, as well as ample opportunity to sniff out and seduce prey. And even though her days of hunting for good-looking rich fools are long behind her, she still performs in inns and taverns across Skyrim. Firstly, it brings in a fair amount of money, and secondly, it's good for her Voice! And also just plain and simple fun.

Also, people get terribly surprised when she, a Dunmer, doesn't act like one at all! Nim might've grown up in Raven Rock, a Dunmer settlement, but she spent the rest of her life traveling the continent and then living in Skyrim. She's more Nord-ish than some Nords! And the Nords actually really love it! It's so so easy to just get plastered with the homegirl, punch some faces and pass out on a heap of hay behind the inn, just happy to be alive on this fine snowy day. The only truly Dunmer thing about her is the occasional "n'wah!" which escapes her potty mouth. I mean, she doesn't even like sujamma all that much and would rather have a pint of mead! Whatever Ancestors she has must be spinning in their graves fast enough to generate electricity.

uuuhhh I think that's all the important stuff? i might've forgotten, in which case, I'll add it later... meanwhile, have some more Nim content:

^^^ the fanfic is slow, but it's moving... at a snail's pace. my advice: don't expect updates, so that when they do come, you'll be pleasantly surprised!

#thank u for asking abt the dovahmom #i am deeply touched uwu #💞#the elder scrolls #skyrim #dragonborn #ldb #dovahkiin #konahrik #oc #naali 'nim' saryn #bethesda #ask #my art #sketch #traditional doodle #ballpoint doodle

15 notes · View notes

princekoo · 3 years

Text

goodnight n go | one | pjm.

pairing. single dad! jimin x female teacher! reader

synopsis. jimin was a single dad of three and one unfortunate mishap caused him to meet you: his best friend’s coworker and daughter’s teacher. will feelings of petty loathing develop into something more?

genre/prompt. fluff, angst

word count. 4.3k

content. jimin is a pole dancer and has 3 kids as well as is 9 years older than oc. even if they’re both well over legal age, if that makes you uncomfortable, please consider not reading. thank you <3

writer’s note. I deleted it originally because I was unhappy with it as I wrote it when I was younger and didn’t have much experience in writing and my approach to it wasn’t as elaborate as the one I managed to develop all these months of practicing. so! here she is! she’s longer and has less parts so you won’t be annoyed with the constant changing haha. an important thing to note is that the oldest son’s name Songyoon was changed to Haneul, the little girl’s name Sooyeon was changed to Eunbyul, and the youngest’s name Sanghoon was changed to Hayun as their names were too similar and made it difficult to remember who was who. There was also many major plot changes as well as small ones, so it’s somewhat completely different to the earlier version. Anyways! Enjoy :)

parts. one / two

The window curtains glittered under the moonlight’s loving, motherly kiss, this gentle caress closely similar to the unnaturally blond man’s embrace of a little girl–his precious little girl– in his arms. She was quite positively almost a copy of himself, down to his natural jet-black hair and plump, pink lips. The expensive curtains—most notably one of the most expensive things in the vicinity as what his little one wants his little one gets— danced with the wind let in by the open window softly, bringing the loud car horns and yelling of bustling city life with it. They’d been rendered to a simple ambient hum, considering how high up in the building they lived, however. The glitter scattered all throughout its length caused it to look like various constellations spread gracefully, causing his little one to refuse any other option that wasn’t it, unfortunately for his bank account. The neon lights of signs outside their New York City apartment, which would otherwise be annoying, entered only carefully tonight, as if to not disturb the gentle moment between the father and daughter.

“And so, the little princess was elated! The dragon had taken her to his cave filled with shiny little things all around, away from the princess life she hated.”

The raven-haired girl’s little eyes had shined in anticipation; the blonde man often mused it seemed like the night sky was trapped in her gaze since her birth, hence her name. She practically shook from excitement, her little brain unable wrap itself around how the princess pulled it all off so effortlessly! She didn’t know what to do with herself, so she clung to her dad’s silk night shirt as tight as her little fists would let her (which kind of hurt but he wasn’t going to stop her, he loved her too much to repress her). She liked to think of herself as close to that of a big, scary typhoon. He begged to differ with the more accurate description of the whirlpool one makes when circling their fingers in water repeatedly.

“The dragon taught her all she came to know! He taught her to read and write. Taught her to do basic things and they lived happily for just a few months. Then, the guards in the palace found her and came to get her! Do you know what they assumed, my beautiful little star?” Jimin had started looking at her fondly, the term of endearment coming out in their native tongue of Korean, accent prominently and endearingly laced in his English, soothing into every word he spoke. The nickname made her chest fill with warmth and her cheeks puff in reluctant happiness. No matter how many times her dear daddy would say it, it was her very own little term of endearment. Just for her and no one else. She loved it.

“That he was a big scary mean dragon! Right, daddy?!”

Jimin beamed at her intelligence. Then again, he does read her this story whenever she asks—and that’s nearly every weekend. He tickled her and held her tightly in his arms, her soft giggles reaching his ears just as the melodies he would dance to as a young boy would. Although he could still fit her in his arms, she was getting big. Give it two more years and he couldn’t do this anymore with her, hold her without difficulty and discomfort. The thought of such a cruel future made his heart sink a little. He had to stop himself often from thinking about how she would act when she became a teenager, it would be too much for his fragile heart to handle.

Jimin had always chastised her, as he was the only parent she had left. He took care of her and taught her valuable life lessons, sang her to sleep, and learned to make pretty hairstyles “just like a princess”, she’d say. He corrected her when needed as well as took on the role of both mother and father to her younger brother, Hayun (she preferred to call him Sunny after Jimin told her the meaning in English, which always made his heart melt), which was only a month old when their mother decided to pack her bags. Her older brother, although still a junior in high school, helped as much as he could to alleviate the toll that taking on both roles took on Jimin.

He was a great father, as one wouldn’t really expect. He was the right mixture of incredibly compassionate, well-humored, and empathetic with a dash of sternness to go along with it. He wasn’t a tyrant ruler, he listened to all three–well two, Hayun hasn’t even been able to string together a coherent longer-than-3-words sentence, only simple sentences, as a toddler does– and implemented all change that was agreed on by the majority. He always tried to pay equal attention to all of them, although most of it went to her younger brother. She didn’t mind though, she enjoyed playing with her older brother, Haneul. Jimin always packed him lunch, even as he whined that he didn’t have to do that, but he always enjoyed when he did it. She knew, noticing he always left to school with a small smile on his lips after.

Jimin has to assume complete responsibility once their… “mother” … turned up one day and decided she wanted nothing to do with her kids anymore. After taking her routine every night visit to the bar, she found someone older. Wealthier. “Much more fun” and “like you used to be before they showed up” she also gracefully added. Not like it was his fault he’d grown up once his first child was born, unlike her. Always looking for convenient fun, never tied down to anything. Proposing to her would just be in vain since it’s not like she would’ve accepted marriage anyway. Even during high school, when she first had come to him announcing her pregnancy, he knew how little care she held for him. She always thought of him as harmless fun, a man on the side and he couldn’t say the same of himself. The first child was purely an accident, the other two was him desperately trying to convince himself it could all work out and she could change. After their third, he knew how wrong he was. He held feelings for her at one point, although, with time, it all disappeared. He could only hold feelings of loathing towards her at that point. She thought of the kids as nuances. She got sick of it. Sick of him. Sick of having just one person to kiss. She couldn’t be tied down, but just because he knew that, it didn’t mean it hurt any less. She’d left once Hayun was born, but Eunbyul didn’t know why. She always thought she didn’t love them anymore after seeing her mom with a man that looked uglier than her daddy for sure, but she seemed happy. Her mom said something to her before she’d left, looked at her weird, and screamed at her dad some more, but she couldn’t remember what it was. Often, she’d ponder when her mommy was coming back. Well, not like she could, anyway. They did move across the globe after, from Busan to New York, with no way to contact them. She didn’t mind not having a mommy for now, though, it’s not like she was ever home before anyway. It was always comfortable with daddy.

“Daddy! Please continue the story! Why’d you stop?! Pleeeeeeease…!” She pouted and looked up at him with those puppy eyes children knew to use when they wanted something to make their parents cave in fast in response to his hesitance to continue the story, her fake tiara skewing just a little to the side. One day, he’ll buy her a new one. One with diamonds and various other gems. His features seemed to light up and playfully mirror her own, his nose scrunching up as well. She, of course, as a sensitive, princess-y 4-almost-5-year-old, did not know how to differentiate someone being mean between someone playing, so she smacked him on the shoulder as hard as she could in her blind anger. Jimin yelped at the contact and sobered up, expression turning stern. Had she messed up? Did she do something wrong? Daddy’s face did the same face he always did when he was mad at her for doing something wrong. Eyes sharp. Lips in a straight line. Eyebrows drawn together.

“Eunbyul, you can’t hit anyone ever, you hear me? Especially me...” His voice was stern, but less confident as he trailed off. One look in her eyes and one could easily tell she was on the verge of tears. Why had the atmosphere changed so much? Why did the breeze still? Why was it so hot all of a sudden, but just on her face? Her tears were almost spilling out of her doe eyes, so his expression softened and panic flashed through his face. He had too soft a spot for her.

“...Not without expecting payback!” He announced out as a save and initiated a tickle attack by removing his arms supporting her back and wiggling them on her sides, causing a sea of reluctant giggles and laughter to erupt from her lips, tears of sadness now turned into ones of happiness. A wave of relief passed through her consciousness. He wasn’t mad at her anymore!

After he stopped tickling and her giggles piped down, he took her in his arms again and minimally rocked her back and forth again, attempting to continue the story. She gazed into his eyes. There, were two crescent moons filled with stars picked carefully right from the universe. They held warm nights of him wrapped in a blanket and always holding her in his arms while rocking her back and forth, looking back at her like she was his most valuable treasure. Nights of drinking lukewarm chocolate and sharing it with her while telling her countless stories he remembered or made up, her brother’s occasional snorting making her giggle. Those crescent pools of love staring right back at her with so much fondness, she couldn’t not trust him. He loved what he created with every inch of his being, even if she resembled her mother somewhat. She never felt so safe in any other person’s hold, even in Haneul’s. She felt safe and happy, sure, but not to the extent of her dad’s.

Pouting and closing his eyes as well as lifting his head up high in mocked snub, he opened one of his closed eyes.

“Well, if you’re done being rude, I’d like to finish this story for this week.”

A beat of silence went by as she looked at him with slight shame and tucked her head against his armpit. He sighed, breathily chuckled and shook his head slightly.

“You were right, princess. They did think he was a big, mean, and scary dragon that took the pretty little princess as his own treasure! The princess came back from getting berries just before the guards decided to kill the dragon!”

A gasp. A smile.

“She explained what happened and the guards decided to keep to themselves that they had seen the princess. The dragon and the princess lived what, my little star?”

“Happily ever after, right, daddy?!” She looked at her dad excitedly, completely engrossed in the story despite it being probably the hundredth time he told it to her since her birth.

A pause.

“That’s right, my love. The end…”

Although little Eunbyul understood simple Korean, she could barely speak it. Jimin planned on teaching her a little more down the line. Now, she barely understood some of the words, any longer than two syllables being too dang hard for her little brain to grasp at this late hour, right before her bedtime, but she didn’t care at this time. Not when his soothing voice graced her ears with the background noise only that of the far away beep of cars, the rhythmic rumbling in his chest every time he’s uttered a word soothing her to sleep. As she laid there in his arms, fast asleep, little snores leaving her nose, all that was in his mind was how he could never bear losing her.

He felt absolutely heartbroken and stressed, raising three kids on his own was unbearably hard. He loved them so much he had to look for a job in this new country. A job that paid well but let him work while the kids were asleep so he could care for them while they were awake.

He also made friends with his co-workers and shift manager, so it wasn’t too bad re-adjusting. They barely hired new employees since they had a very high criteria, so he barely had to deal with new hires that made his job harder. His kids are growing up, though. He knew that. He feared they would leave like their mother did almost two years ago, so he’d decided to enjoy them and raise them as well as he could while it lasted. He was scared they’d decide they were sick of him just like she did. Irrational since his kids shared a strong bond with him and each other, but valid.

Jimin got up, arms still wrapped around her, she was growing and he could no longer able to hold her like how he used to. He moved the covers to make place for her and gently laid her down, taking her plastic tiara off her head. Covering her and laying a gentle kiss on her forehead, tears dangerously threatened to spill. The moonlight hit his face, making his eyes’ shine intensify into thousand galaxies in his beautiful, soft chocolate eyes as he got up to turn off her mermaid lamp.

“Sleep tight my little universe,” he chokingly whispered as tears freely fell from his eyes.

An abrupt sound made way to his ears and he turned around, finding his sixteen-year-old son holding Sunghoon. Jimin vigorously wiped his tears and gave Haneul a weak and quivering smile. The boy moved to put down the toddler he was holding in his crib and turned on the mobile, then mouthed to his father if he was okay, used to him being bubbly and strong for them, though it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d seen him cry. He took the role of confidant, listening to his father whenever he let himself be anything less than closed. He always looked so small, like a little boy. It always scared him. This wasn’t his big and amazing role model of a dad, was it? The one he bragged about to all his friends and anyone who would listen? Would he become like that, too? Out of the three kids, he was the one who remembered his mother the clearest, having been fourteen. He despised her, to put it nicely. He was the one that got to see to the extent that that woman caused their father to feel anguish, he got to know what not being loved by his mother was like.

Nodding, he ushered his oldest son out the room, more unrestrained tears rolled down his tear-stained cheeks. No matter how vigorously he wiped at them, they’d come back anyway, so maybe he should give up on wiping his tears just as he’d given up on trying to make his relationship work. It didn’t help that Haneul was the spitting image of his mother, either. Haneul wanted to press on, to question him and help him, but he decided to leave it. Glancing at both of his younger siblings sleeping, he decided maybe some things were better left unsaid. He slowly made his way to the door and once he reached it, pat his dad in the back and continued to his room. As Jimin tried to control his upcoming violent sobs, he shut the door behind him.

He couldn’t do this alone anymore. It was too much. He needed someone there.

The cool autumn wind blew against Jimin’s cheek as he shook his hair to clear his fringe from his eyes. He brought his dainty hands into his jacket pockets as he puffed out air. While his breath may not have been visible, it sure as hell felt like it could be.

It was cold as fuck, to put it simply. Having a car would be absolutely beautiful right now, but circumstances really don’t line up with his wishes on the regular. He always kept forgetting to look into which car he would like best and to go purchase it, but the subways facilitated his route home and to work somewhat. His life would improve tenfold once he remembers to buy a car. He was very forgetful since there’s only so much he can keep up with, his brain take up with his three kids and problems. He could do that in the three days he had left, he guesses. Maybe tomorrow if he sets a reminder, even, would he be able to get a car. Before he left, he had saved up money for a living space able to hold all 4 of them and a mode of transportation. He could get rid of his subway card and buy a car or something, anything but dealing with the surplus of rats and drunkards at the time he used it. His credit wasn’t bad either, which could probably lower his purchase a little. His oldest used the same transportation he did, but he just wanted to drive his kids to school in the mornings and drop them off. Even more so, Eunbyul was starting school in just a few days, so he couldn’t afford to just walk her to school as it was half an hour away from their apartment building or even use public transport. It just didn’t feel right to him. All those cute hairstyles he planned on doing on her would be ruined by the time they got there.

Jimin kept pacing along the sidewalk towards the apartment complex where his kids are expected to be sleeping. Expected. It was 1:05 A.M., after all. A father can only hope his children listened well to him. He could probably assume Haneul was studying or something and the other two were knocked out, children being unable to be awake for very long.

He sighed as he scratched his itching nose and gazed around the well-near-empty streets, save the occasional drunk or workers of the same hours as himself.

Work was everything but slow, as always. Obviously, as an exotic dancer, he should’ve expected that. He really thought he’d made it clear to the manager that he had to be home early to put his kids to bed and give Eunbyul her first out of five pep talks before she starts kindergarten for the first time ever in a week, but maybe he didn’t remember. He’ll put his money on that, Seokjin was always preoccupied with everything in the club and the additional two other locations. Being a considerate manager and good owner is hard work, after all. His forgetfulness caused Jimin to be overbooked and end his shift two hours later than he’d requested. At least he was getting paid very well for that, anyway, so he had next to no complaints.

Checking his phone, he saw 5 collective texts from his friends, Yoongi and Taehyung. These were two childhood best friends of his, every summer when he would visit his grandma in Seoul he would hang out with them. They were both neighbors from Daegu and would go to Seoul for the summer for the same reason Jimin did which caused his grandmother to meet them. A chance encounter leading to a life-long friendship. Taehyung, however, moved away to become an art major at NYU and Yoongi had followed behind, falling victim to Taehyung’s prettily warpped descriptions of the city. He was a kindergarten teacher and assumed the same role in the states and Taehyung became a critically acclaimed, wildly successful painter. Taehyung actually had children of his own in his time in New York and his twins were the same age as Eunbyul. He, however, was married to their mother, and happily too. For that, he always felt jealousy, despite not wanting to.

Tapping the notification to see all the texts displayed, he saw Yoongi whining about the fact that the first day of school is way too close for comfort and Taehyung’s smiley face reply to Jimin’s own “i’m going home now, if i don’t text you that i’m home within 20 minutes, use find my friends to go after me”. Nothing out of the ordinary. He lived in a crime-filled part of town. He was saving up to be able to buy either a nice enough house close to the school or an apartment of the same caliber in cash. Mortgages seemed messy to him, in all and he was frankly scared to do it.

Now, Yoongi’s whining is normal, but now it has increased tenfold as the news of him getting an assistant teacher was broken to him. Yoongi felt as though the school was insulting his ability to teach by putting another adult in the classroom (they’d assured that he needed an extra hand in the classroom as there were more kids than before in his class–he called bullshit though), but nonetheless, all Jimin could hope for is that he doesn’t “accidentally” show up to class with vodka in a water bottle again. Not after what happened last time.

Locking his phone and walking faster, his longing for the warmth of what he liked to call his “luxury” apartment shining through and suddenly beginning to be extremely prominent which resulted in a whine of I-have-to-walk-like-five-more-steps-to-get-inside-so-life-isn’t-fair escapes Jimin. He stared ahead, gaze landing on the once-silver gate. It was once beautiful, but since the new owners bought it, they paid no attention to outside view, or so he was told by the old lady next door, Janet. They knew everyone went there for the cheap prices anyway, she’d sigh. He really had to move into a house or something. He already had the money for a nice enough house or better apartment where all 4 of them could live happily though his job. Maybe he could look for a house only a few minutes away from the school. Mental note: look for house around school.

Quickly opening and speed walking to the elevator, he checked his phone once again. More drunk texts from the absolute best friend that he loves so very much in this very moment, Yoongi. He really did take his devastation seriously, as he shared a selfie with him and vodka with a text after saying “my news befrenddf!!!!!!!!”. Jimin let out a huff of amusement and disbelief. The man was almost in his late 30s and he still acted like he could be the age of his students.

The unlocking to the apartment was bittersweet. Suppressed memories always seemed to float into his conscious one by one when coming through the door, when silence and darkness met him. That house of cards-like mirage he’d fabricated all on his own tormented him because how could he be so stupid and naïve to believe two children would fix their doomed relationship. He was never happy, not after she barely showed up at home after giving birth. Not after she’d come home often with the stench of alcohol, cigarettes, and sex on her. She was the one who could never be a parent. The one that selfishly left when offered money and riches. The one who didn’t even think twice about accepting the offer. The one that left him for a richer man despite their various kids. The one he’d had to lie to his daughter about when asked of. The one that never thinks of her own kids and has started a new life with brand new kids and husband. The one that’s too late to fix things. The one he and his teenage son loathe with every fiber of their being.

He really had to move away to a nicer place. Sighing, he dragged his boot cladded feet along the living room towards his room to begin his night routine. His two jobs relied on his face and his body, so taking care of both was extremely important, mental stability somewhat important too. He kicked off his shoes and snaked out of his clothes, took his pj’s, and padded towards the bathroom. The most relaxing parts of the day for him were most simply when he saw his kids in the morning and taking a shower after being in a packed and hot night club, full of dried sweat which gave him a not-so-pleasant stench. Eunbyul just knew her daddy was a dancer; she didn’t need to know the explicit details. At least not until the age of thirteen, or maybe older (he hoped), when her very own older brother found out.

He scrubbed every inch of his body until his skin turned red because god, he could not stand the stench just rolling off him in waves. Now, he was fine. He was happy, scent of the bubblegum body wash Eunbyul insisted on buying filling his senses. He was finally home, and his daughter was turning a new chapter in her life. She was going to learn how to read and he would teach her the same things he’d taught her brother. How he loved that, the feeling of satisfaction reached after your child now knows something they didn’t before. He loves the way her eyes light up when she learns something. He loves it all, and he hopes it’ll last forever.

He remembered he should probably invest in a car and a house closer to the school, a 30-minute walk was no joke. He finally dragged his fatigued fingers to set the reminder.

#btsghostie #jimin x reader #pjm #jimin #park jimin #jimin fanfic #jimin fluff #jimin angst #dad jimin #single father jimin

81 notes · View notes

joonkorre · 3 years

Text

The Winner Takes ____?

@drarrymicrofic prompt: the winner takes it all - abba

A Pyrrhic victory (/ˈpɪrɪk/ ( listen) PIRR-ik) is a victory that inflicts such a devastating toll on the victor that it is tantamount to defeat. A Pyrrhic victory takes a heavy toll that negates any true sense of achievement or damages long-term progress. (source: Wikipedia). AO3

“You said there’s something we have to discuss.”

Harry nods, suppressing a shiver. It’s cold out, middle of November, and one touch of Draco’s hand is enough to tell Harry that he’s fresh from the shop, sweaty and too warm. Squeezing the palm on his shoulder, he smiles up at Draco. The man watches at his expression for a second before retrieving his hand from Harry’s grasp.

He never does that. They always have to connect in some way, usually with over-the-table handholding.

Ah, Harry forgets; he started the habit in the first place.

“Alright,” Draco seats himself on the armchair, not eating the neatly arranged biscuits on the table, his favorite. Not even glancing at them.

“Let’s discuss.”

So Harry discusses. In better words, he talks and talks with no answer. What Hermione made him promise to say—even sat down and wrote a speech for him to remember—swirls in his head, syllables that don’t make noise, phrases that don’t make sense.

The flames in the fireplace crackle, a flare of heat and a pop of sound. A waterfall of pale-blonde hair, blue eyes that have lost their sparks, telling him that this has gone too far. Dean’s already paid, then Seamus, then Lavender, then most of the Gryffindor alumni. A bet between two festering into a conspiracy between all.

Molly’s shown him a picture of them on the front page and asked if he was sure. He’s only smiled, said ‘yes,’ and, unfortunately, meant it. Harry’s gone above and beyond for a couple of coins, to the point where he worries about abandoning what he’s worked so hard to cultivate.

“I grew a flower that can’t be bloomed in a dream that can’t come true,” croons a singer in a song Teddy likes these days. Harry wonders if Ron’s also heard of that song, so he could use it to snap Harry out of his delusion.

Harry takes a deep breath.

Everything he has to say has been painstakingly scrubbed out of him, scratching his throat raw and robbing him of air. At this point, he wonders if Hermione was right, that feigning disinterest and focusing on a promotion to work in Switzerland is better than being honest.

Draco’s eyes haven’t left Harry’s face throughout the explanation, and he doesn’t open his mouth once. Harry wishes he’d say something, do something other than bouncing his heel ever so often.

The tea’s gone cold when Harry takes a sip, giving his throat some relief. He waits.

Draco raises a hand from the armrest, calloused and huge. His index finger taps a stubbled cheek. Harry knows that finger, is familiar with its uncanny smoothness. Draco’s told him of the vicious accident that burned off three of his fingerprints during his time as an apprentice, a lesson to learn and a story to recount. Harry’s liked to rub them just because, and Draco’s let him with an indulgent smile.

“Okay.”

Harry blinks. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Draco uncrosses his legs. “Let’s break up.”

“Oh,” Harry says, “that’s all?”

Draco spreads his hands and purses his lips, brows high on his forehead. “What more do you want me to say?”

Harry watches him brush nonexistent dust off his jean-clad knees and stand up.

“I don’t—you don’t have to say anything.”

“Good to know,” Draco grabs a handful of Floo powder. “I’m going to Pansy’s.”

“But you haven’t changed yet,” Harry frowns. Pansy loves people she considers hers dearly, but if one doesn’t at least attempt to look put-together, they can’t step a foot into her house without it getting chopped off.

“I don’t think you’re in the position to be worrying about my clothes, Harry,” Draco says. He glances at the bits of Floo powder fluttering to the floor and continues.

“I’ll pack my things when I get back. Hope you don’t mind.”

“It’s fine,” Harry says. Draco nods once and turns to the fireplace. Without thinking, Harry stands up. “Why’re you going to Pansy’s?”

Draco eyes him like he’s sick in the head. “To cry over being dumped by the Great Savior, why else?”

“Oh, of fucking course you still see me like that,” Harry can’t stop himself from snarling. “Have I ever been anything but The Fucking Boy Who Lived to you?”

Draco’s lips flatten to a thin line.

He’s exhausted, Harry realizes. His shift ended later than Harry’s at the Ministry today, yet he went home just to sit through this.

A weary sigh.

“You know the answer to that.”

Harry deflates. Does he?

Draco’s gaze lingers for another second.

“Bye, then,” he says. With a swift turn, he faces the fireplace, squaring his shoulders.

Draco’s voice doesn’t waver as he says, “Parkinson Estate.” With his old shirt stained with drying sweat, stuffed in a dirty pair of overalls, he walks forward, engulfed by a roar of green.

It’s quiet. The fireplace seems more subdued, as if it only deigns to burn enough to warm a single person instead of two. Harry falls back against his armchair, staring at nothing. His temples ache for some reason, like he’s spent the past hour stretching his unfocused eyes into slants to see better. If it is so, it doesn’t work. Harry feels like he’s blinder than ever.

Never mind, he has things to do. Has to take a shower, get dressed, trim his beard. Put on his best shoes and hit the Leaky, catching Seamus’s signature grin as he waits for Harry to get to the table and share the good news. Inform everybody that he’s done it, has cut things off and drawn this five-year epic of a ruse to a close. Order grumbling friends to pay up, their fault for betting that he wouldn’t have the balls to do it within 3 days.

Has to get some drinks to start, then head to a proper club, it’s nearly the weekend. Avoid the crushing disappointment that Luna has no qualm hiding from him. Make it back home after midnight, way after Draco’s returned to pack his bags—he doesn’t like to stay out past 11—and gone, gone, gone. Make it back home to a half-empty house, never again whole.

“Jesus,” Harry whispers.

His glasses have been pushed up without noticing, leaving space for his hands to press against closed eyes. Stars burst behind his eyelids, a squeezing pain. He presses harder like he’s got something to prove.

The vase on the coffee table is filled with blooms, pinks and whites galore, handpicked by Harry himself just last week. It was the first vase Draco’s blown for him, stained using cheap acrylic paint and glue. It was clumsily done and it shows, but it’s beautiful.

Harry’s hands can’t fall from his eyes, lest he imagines the damn thing cracking open and crashing onto the floor, leaving nothing left but millions and millions of tiny pieces. Delicate glass, delicate petals.

He curls into himself and doesn’t make a sound.

#drarrymicrofic #drarry fanfic #drarry fanfiction #drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #the winner takes it all #ministry worker harry potter #glass blower draco malfoy #yes i read a book about stained glass 101 and the first thing i thought was draco working with glass yessir #now why the hell do i keep giving my dude so many cool careers and harry gets to be a werewolf at most #sorry to that man :P love him tho #there's a bts ref in here lmao i have to represent my boys it's simply my duty #pansy def got mad when draco came over w his work clothes still on but the moment she saw him break down it's over #she wouldn't let him out of her sight for the next few days ik that for a fact #harrys like #stupidly dumb for someone whos so attentive to his partner's likes & wants #give him time he'll get better #or will he???#joonkorre writes

25 notes · View notes

formerprincess · 3 years

Text

A tale written with fangs and claws || Chapter 58

Chapters: 58/? Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken, Corey Bryant/Mason Hewitt Characters: Liam Dunbar, Theo Raeken, Mason Hewitt, Corey Bryant, Nolan (Teen Wolf) Additional Tags: Alpha Liam Dunbar, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, Dunbar Pack, Bisexual Liam Dunbar, Werewolf Theo Raeken, Alpha Theo Raeken, Canon-Typical Violence, Smut, Mates, Liam and Theo are mates, Top Theo Raeken, Bottom Theo Raeken, Top Liam, Bottom Liam Dunbar Series: Part 1 of Morning Dew Pack

Liam has to take care of a very important matter. And there is an invitation...

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

Liam immensely enjoyed working for Ellie. She was happy to show him her craft, teach him things, but she was also very easygoing, and as long as she saw him trying, she loved him and was thrilled with his performance. Also, Ellie knew about the supernatural, so she completely understood when he looked at his phone after it chimed with a text, just in case his pack needed him. Not that anything had come up in the few weeks since Liam started working for her, but he liked to have this option. He didn't have to hide anything, and Liam realized how much better he felt with that.

When work was slow, they talked about a lot of things and Ellie taught Liam some things about supernatural creatures. She had laughed loudly at the story about the fairies in their garden and proceeded to elucidate the different variations of fairies and elves. There were plant fairies, water fairies, sun fairies, and almost that many elves classes. Just like there were different weres out there. Liam felt kind of silly he didn't know about any of this and one day voiced his thoughts. Was he simply ignorant or just blind?

"Neither. You're from a town where none of those things exist. Don't blame yourself for that", Carlie said. Carlie was one of Ellie's three best friends, the other two being Libby and Simone. All three were at Ellie's age and the friends had a weekly meeting at the shop where they sat together, talked about their lives, drank tea or coffee, and ate cookies. Carlie herself was a petite woman with short spiky hair and big square glasses. From what they had told Liam upon first meeting, they all were elves but Liam secretly suspected Carlie of being a pixie. She was cheeky, witty, always said what was on her mind, and her eyes sparkled with mischief. Needless to say, Liam liked her. "Yeah, but I also feel like I should know more." "You know enough. About Onis and Berserkers and Kitsunes and hell and other terrible things. You're twenty. Most guys your age know how to party and wear their base caps the wrong way." She bit into a cookie. Liam laughed. "My boyfriend likes to wear his caps the wrong way. He looks hot with it. But he also knows other things." "You have so much time to learn still. Don't worry. Even we old ladies don't know about any supernatural being out there", Simone comforted him and filled her cup with some more tea. She was the opposite of Carlie; tall, thin, and the quietest of the bunch. "I also agree with Carlie, you know about terrible things, traumatic things, things one should not know about. Especially not this early in life. But unfortunately, trauma is also experience. " Liam made a face. He sat down on the armrest of one of the chairs Ellie had placed around. "I just could have lived without some of those experiences. I mean, I could have gone without the experience of being homeless but hey. Maybe that's just me." Ellie put her arm over the backrest of her chair and turned to look at Liam. "When have you been homeless?" They talked about a lot of stuff but Liam's life story, she only knew parts of it. Good parts. He didn't want to deliver sob story after sob story. Liam had a good life, he knew some people had it worse. He cherished that. Now he exhaled loudly through his nose and then he told the four women how the hyenas came into town and caused havoc, how they finally destroyed the house and left the pack picking up the pieces. He ended with the move to the new house.

After he finished, his listeners were shocked. "You experienced all this and you still find it in yourself to be such a happy and polite young man?" Libby asked in awe. She was usually full of life and laughed loudly, her afro curls always bouncing around her round face, but now she was stunned. Liam shrugged. "What's the option? Turning bitter? It worked out in the end. Doesn't mean I will ever forgive them for what they did but no one died, at least." "You are a terrific young man, Liam", Ellie praised. He smiled softly. "Thank you."

The store door opened and Angela, Ellie's oldest daughter, stepped into the shop. She was a lawyer and used her breaks to visit sometimes. She greeted everyone happily and hugged her mother. Liam ran to get her a fresh cup and dragged another seat to their circle so he should sit and interact with the group. She squeezed his arm in a silent thank you as she sat down and accepted the cup. "What were you guys talking about? Is everything okay?" She asked good-heartedly. "Liam just told us about those horrible, horrible hyenas who destroyed his house" Libby filled her in. Angela raised both eyebrows. "I hope none of you were harmed." "Everybodys fine. We managed to get out in time before the house exploded. I'm just grateful I got my brother out of town before it happened." "Oh, you have a brother? I didn't know that." Angela loved kids and had specialized in family rights. She claimed she liked to help kids get justice. "Hm." Liam nodded. He walked to the cash register where he left his phone and while he walked back searched through his pictures. "Landon. He's almost ten." She showed her and the rest of the women the picture and they all cooed how much alike the brothers looked. "You said you brought his out of town? So I take he's usually living with you? Your parents must appreciate such a tight brother's bond." Angela was surprised but happy. Liam hesitated. "Landon's not my mother's son. We're half brothers. Same dad. Well, father. Sperm donor. My biological father is...he's a piece of shit. Alcoholic. Abuser. You get it. I didn't even know Landon existed until we met months ago by a pure coincidence. The circumstances don't matter but in the end, Theo and I took him home with us. Not a chance I would have let him stay with that man. So he lived with us in the house. Until I brought him to the lake to keep him safe. He lives there now." Liam missed Landon terribly but they were all still so young, they could not care for a child properly. Byron and Lana were perfect for that task and Landon also liked them. He blinked. "But enough of sad stories. Let's talk about something different, okay?"

****** He was cleaning up after Ellie's friends had left. After he had basically pleaded for a change of topic, the talk had revolved around lighter topics and ended on a very funny note. Now Ellie was in the back, doing some accounting, and Liam manned the front of the store. Angela was the only one still there. Now she stepped to the cash register where Liam was currently filling some jars with bagged candy. "I'm going to tell you something, not as a friend but as a lawyer, okay? And I need you to listen." She looked serious and Liam tensed. What happened? "Did I do something wrong? Is your mother mad at me?" "No. But listen." She tapped both index fingers on the counter. "You need your biological father to sign his rights over to you as fast as possible. What you said about him, having him in Landon's and your life is dangerous and not good for either of you. So you need to act fast. Have him make you Landon's legal guardian." Liam frowned. "I planned on doing so once I turned twenty-one. I wasn't aware I can do it now. Thought I had to be twenty-one." Angela shook her head strictly. "No. You need to do it now. In most states, anyone who is eighteen years old can become a guardian. Look, who tells you your father agrees to it in a year? He still holds guardianship and can make decisions for your brother. If he does not sign over his rights, he has so much time to cause harm. You said Landon's almost ten. That means another eight years of having the right to decide about medical procedures, school enrollment, the living situation. Even if Landon stays with you, all it takes is somebody checking who is the legal guardian for Landon. Could be school, could be a doctor's office, or if he gets in trouble it could be the police. If he's in the hospital. For eight years, you have to always fear for this to happen. If your father does not sign his rights over." "If he does not do it on his own, I will take him to court." Angela shook her head even more firm this time. "Honestly? They will ask you where Landon lived for the past year. Legally, what you and Theo did was kidnapping. If you manage to get a strict judge, that alone will cause you to lose the case. Landon will get sent back to his father and you're probably not even allowed to see him. I told you, I'm not telling you this as a friend. As your friend, I understand why you did it, as a lawyer I have to inform you about this likely possibility. The only chance you have is to have your father make you his guardian." It was a hard pill to swallow and Liam gulped. He had been naive, he realized now, and considered it all easier than it was. And maybe Landon had to pay the price for his neglect. "Thank you, Angela", he mumbled sadly.

****** Liam sat in his car and watched the house across the street. The sun was beating down and these barren landscapes made the air even drier. The dusty roads stirred up sand whenever a car raced by. Bleak. He cast a look at the passenger seat. All documents he needed were laying there, including a pen. Now all that Liam was left to do, was get out of the car, walk up to the door, and get a signature. Angela's stern talk from days ago had left Liam rallied. Once he was home, he had told Theo about everything and the couple had to admit them taking Landon out of the house had been a stupid move from the legal point of view. They had emotions get the better of them and now this potentially harmful situation had arisen. Theo had supported Liam in whatever was needed to ensure he would become Landon's guardian but the Beta was also not a lawyer and as much at loss as Liam.

Thank god for Angela. She had helped Liam set up the documents Emmet had to sign and those documents Liam grabbed now when he exited the car. Theo was not with him, his boyfriend didn't even know Liam was here. Nobody knew. This, Liam felt, was something he had to don his own. Maybe to find a deserving ending. Maybe to test his control. Or maybe this was stupid but then again, Liam could proudly admit he was doing stupid crap now and then. Stiles, according to his own claim, could show Liam a list.

He let out a shaky breath when he walked through the unkempt front lawn. Some new beer bottles and cans had gathered around the chair. Emmet was not there but Liam heard his heartbeat through the ajar window. You're not going to kill him, Liam. He does not deserve you getting your hands dirty. Liam knocked at the door. Inside the house, he heard some bottles falling and Emmet's slurred voice mumbling. Then scuffling steps and the door opened. And the young Alpha had to gasp and take a step back. "God, you stink!" The stench of booze, beer, and sweat made him almost gag. Disgusting, his man. "You. What do you want?" Emmet slurred angrily and grabbed the door for support. Liam turned his head away and took a few breaths. He willed his nausea down and turned to face his father. "How long have you been drinking, alkie?" "What do you care? Why are you even here? I don't want you." "Trust me, I don't want you either. But I need something from you and that means I have to come here. I would rather be somewhere else, believe that." "What? Want money for the little gremlin? I'm not giving you a dime." Emmet swayed on his feet. "I don't need your money. Go inside, before you fall flat on your face. I'm not catching you." Liam pointed inside the house. His father made a step towards him. "I should beat the crap out of you for talking to me like that and not stop til you're whimpering. Do you know who I am?" "A sorry excuse for a worm." Liam pushed his biological father by the shoulder and he stumbled back. As drunk as he was, he didn't stand a chance against an Alpha.

Emmet was taken by surprise but managed to catch himself at the table. He spewed a few curse words in Liam's direction before he shuffled around and fell on one of the chairs with the grace of a sack filled with potatoes. Liam closed the door and followed inside. His nose twitched and he wanted to retch at the smell and how dirty everything was but he kept himself from it last minute. This was not for him, this was for Landon. "How's your mother? Still wailing about how horrible I am? The slut should be lucky an honest man wanted her." "My mother is neither a slut nor are you an honest man. Don't mention her or I break your nose." Liam felt his anger building up. This was a test for his control and he might fail it. "Piss off! She's the reason you're such a weak bastard. Wonder what happened with the other one. He's just as weak. Cried whenever I hit him. Begged me to stop. Just like you. Oh, I remember you. Your mother screamed and cried when the ambulance came. I would have left you on the ground. Would have taught you a lesson." "I didn't need a lesson, I needed a father who loved me!" Liam slammed the papers on the table. "Here! Sign this!"

Emmet grabbed it after a few tries and dragged it over the table. He narrowed his eyes at the print. "What should I sign?" "Those are the papers for you to make me Landon's legal guardian. Sign and we're out of your hair forever." Liam balled his hands and felt his fingertips itch. His claws wanted to come out, his wolf furious at the man in front of him. Years of pent-up rage welled up and dared to spill over. He could kill Emmet and probably nobody would shed a tear. Laughter disrupted his thoughts. Emmet had left the papers on the table and laughed. It boomed in Liam's ears. His blood rushed through his veins. This man was mocking him. "If you really think I'm signing this crap, you're mistaken. Know why? Because you bastard want me to and you get nothing from me!" Emmet was still laughing but decided to underline his words by spitting in Liam's direction. It landed on the carpet between them. His claws almost broke through and he was ready to lunge but a voice in his head stopped him. No. Not like this. Not him. Maybe it was his wolf who was even stronger than Liam's human side burdened with IED but it was enough to make Liam pause. If you kill him, you'll never become Landon's guardian. Keep the little one safe.

Liam exhaled loudly through his nose and closed his eyes for a second. If even the animal inside him knew better, he would follow. Had to follow. All for his little brother. Landon didn't deserve a murderer for a hero. He opened his eyes and stared at Emmet. Suddenly Liam was seven again, cowering at the floor while his father screamed at him and walked closer and closer. He had put his arms up back then, in a feeble attempt to shield his body from the hits, and pleaded for the man to stop. Fear. Panic. Pain. But this time Liam didn't feel panicked. He was not afraid of this drunkard calling himself a father. Instead, Liam felt disgust and maybe even pity. This guy had nothing to live for. It gave the young Alpha a strange sense of calm. Out of the two of them, Liam was the better man. The better person. IED or not. The condition didn't rule him as much as it ruled his father, and Liam had quite a lot more on his plate.

He sat at the opposite of the table and took the pen in his hands. "And why wouldn't you? What's in it for you? Just to be petty? Just to put one over on me?" Emmet snickered. "It will bug you forever, that's good enough for me." He reached for a bottle of booze and uncorked it to take a swig. Liam glared at him. Then he put the pen down. His glance landed on his bracelet. The bracelet he shared with Theo. Suddenly, he got an idea. Maybe it was time to see if he could take a book out of Theo's playbook. He raised his head and crossed his arms on top of the table. "Okay, fine, don't sign. We will play your game. I will send Landon back to live here." Emmet eyed him. "You're bluffing." "Not at all. He will come and live with you again. But be aware. I will be around every damn day." "And then what? What will you do? Punch me? You're no match for me", Emmet sneered. "If you lay so much as one finger on him, and we both know you will, I will call the cops on you. They will come and they will arrest you for domestic violence. And yes, Landon may be sent to foster care but I will make sure you will be sent to prison. There is no booze, no beer, no schnapps in prison. But the people there love people who abused kids. I know people and I will make sure every inmate knows what you did to two little boys. That's what will be awaiting you. No freedom to get wasted like you're doing now every day. Think about it." His biological father still eyed him suspiciously. "No way you would ever let him live here again." "To get you locked up, I would do other things. Landon too, by the way. All to make sure you will rot in hell. He's tough, he will take whatever you might to do him. Maybe I will move in as well. One happy family. With me comes my boyfriend, obviously. By the way, how's your hand?" He looked at Emmet's fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle. Father and son stared at each other, accessed each other until Emmet snorted. "Your mother raised you better than this. I call bluff. You don't have it in you, weak shit!" A cold, dangerous smile appeared on Liam's face and he leaned closer. "You call my mom a slut and other horrible names, yet you forget I also inherited DNA from you. We both have IED. Wanna find out how much more alike we are? If I'm as cruel as you are?" He gave his father a death glare. "You want to start a war? I'll raise you World War III. Your choice. Either don't sign and feel the whiplash or sign and you will never have to see us again." Liam placed the pen on the papers and waited. His heart was thundering inside his chest. That was not his usual way to carry on negotiations and he had no idea if it worked. Theo made it always seem so easy and pulled it off without a hitch. But Liam knew he was not that good. Emmet grabbed the pen and fiddled with it. He scribbled his signature at the marked fields, an unruly chicken scratch but his signature nonetheless. "Get the hell out of here. If I see you on my front lawn again, I will shoot you." Liam's hand shot towards and he pulled the documents towards himself after the last signature was done. "I have better people to be around than you. Give your liver a break once in a while." He got up just in time as Emmet's hand shot towards his throat. The alcoholic missed by far and his hand thumped on the table. "Fuck off, you piss baby!" The sound of the splintering bottle hitting the wall was the last thing Liam heard from his father when he now left the house without so much of a goodbye.

It only dawned on him what just had transpired when he was in his car and already on the road. Liam stopped at a red light and breathed a sigh of relief. "Holy shit!" He had faced Emmet Dunbar, that one man he hated with a burning passion, the one who had made his childhood horrible and hurt Liam, Ilona, and Landon so much. Against what he had wanted to do to him, Emmet had left the meeting completely without a cut, Liam was incredibly proud of himself. Even though now, that everything settled, his hands shook and his heart raced, adrenaline pumping through his body. That had the potential to go so, so wrong and yet Liam stood tall. He glanced at the papers safely sitting on the passenger seat. Not only had it worked out without Liam losing his temper, but it had also really worked and he was Landon's guardian. The threat of Emmet interfering with their lives and taking Landon away again was erased. Liam wanted to cry.

His phone chimed and Liam almost hit another car. "Jesus Christ!" He accepted the call over the speaker. "Hey, Theo." "Hey. Say, just out of curiosity, where the hell are you? Nobody knows where you left. It's not like you to disappear like that. What's going on." Liam bit his lip. "I was at Emmet's." "Emmet? Emmet Dunbar? Your father? What the fuck! Is he still alive?" "Shh, let me explain. I told you about what Angela said and I went to get his signature. Yes, he's still alive, I didn't touch him. Even though I wanted to." He heard Theo closing a door and birds singing in the background. "Why didn't you tell me? I would have accompanied you." Yeah, good question. Liam didn't know for sure. "I guess...I needed to burn this bridge alone? Prove to myself I can stay calm around him. I'm not like him in any capacity and while I know you and I absolutely adore you for always being there for me, this was something I had to do alone. You understand? Maybe for my own peace of mind, I dunno." Theo was silent for a few moments. "Yeah, I understand", he finally confessed. "Did it work, at least?" A smile broke out on Liam's face. "Yep. Have all the signatures I need. Thanks to you as well." "Thanks to me? What did I do?" "Well, let's say you're a good teacher, even if you don't want to be one. I'll tell you everything once I get home, okay?" Theo laughed. "Okay. Love you." "Love you too."

****** Landon's face appeared on the screen in front of Liam and as soon as he had a picture, the child waved animatedly. "Hello, Liam!" Videocalls were a good way to keep in contact even if they could not see each other in person. Liam happily waved back. "Hey, Landon, how are you?" "I'm good. Zack and I built a fort." Landon launched himself into a story of all the things his best friend and he had done. Lana and Byron appeared in the background of the call but they simply waved and let the boy talk. Liam put his chin in the palm of his hand and listened with a smile. Seeing Landon so carefree and hearing about him being a normal child was all he ever wanted. It came nine years too late and Liam knew his brother must have been affected one way or another by his upcoming but now that he was out of Emmet's claws, Landon was in for an amazing life. After he was done, Landon asked about Liam's life in Seattle. Now it was the older's turn to talk about college, his pack, the fairies (Landon loved this part and he asked thousands of questions). Theo had joined Liam for a while and laughed softly. "He's like you", he whispered into his mate's ear and kissed Liam's cheek before he disappeared out of the frame again after a wave in Landon's direction. Liam chuckled but then he finished his story. "One more thing, Landon. You know we took you away from Emmet, right?" Landon shivered at the mention of his father's name but nodded bravely. "Do I have to go back? Please, don't make me go back!" "No, no, hey, I would never. That's why I'm telling you. He signed all the papers. I am your guardian now." Lana and Byron appeared left and right from Landon. "He did? Oh, how wonderful, Liam." Lana was touched. Landon scrunched his nose. "What does guardian mean?" "It means Liam is responsible for you now and Emmet can never hurt you again. Say you want to go on a class trip, for example, the school has to ask Liam and not your father anymore", Byron patiently explained to him. Landon considered. "So, he can't get me?" "Never again. He's out of your life for good", Liam promised firmly. His brother beamed at the adults. "That's amazing!" "Yeah, it is." Lana stroked through his hair. "But, Sweetie, you have to get ready for bed now. Tomorrow's a school day." "But I want to keep talking to Liam. I'm not finished." Yes, Landon could be stubborn. "We can talk tomorrow, Laddie. After school, yeah? Now you have to get ready for bed. Sleep is important. I'm going to bed now too. Theo does too. See?" He rolled to the side and tilted his screen so Landon could see Theo brushing his teeth with the bathroom door open. Theo waved. It wasn't that he actually wanted to go to bed but he had tried some licorice Mike had brought home, not from Ellie though, and after eating it Theo claimed to have a bad taste in his mouth. Landon huffed. "But we talk tomorrow", he insisted. "Werewolf promise." Liam raised his hand solemnly to swear. "Good Night, Laddie." "Good Night, Liam. Good Night, Theo." Landon stood up. "Good Night, you two," Lana called out and then disappeared with Landon.

Byron sat on the desk chair. "I know he signed but did the meaning with your father go well?" "It did. As well as possible with this man. I was pretty surprised at my control. At a certain point, I was ready to snap but somehow my wolf made me pull back and I got more level-headed." "That's the Alpha in you. Even if our personality or our urges say otherwise, sometimes the Alpha part can balance it out to keep the peace. It is impressive how well you learned to work with your wolf." The praise was nice because Liam tried. Sometimes it felt like all he did was running in circles but then he proved to everyone (and mostly himself) he was a good person and improving. "Speaking of Alpha and peace, Liam I forwarded an email to you just now. Have a look at it, maybe Theo should do so as well."

Theo had dried his mouth and now walked over to lean on Liam's chair while Liam opened the mail Byron had forwarded. It included a word document and when Liam opened it, it turned out to be an invitation to a meeting held in a hotel in Seattle. "Liam, part of being an Alpha are pack politics." Liam whined. "I told you I'm not good at that! What is this? An Alpha congress? I can't go there." "Maybe let the man talk before you cut and run", Theo suggested and smoothly avoided the contact between Liam's elbow and his stomach by moving aside. "I know what you said, Liam, and this is no pressure but I wanted to inform you. The invitation is indeed for an Alpha meeting. No congress, just a few Alphas coming together and talking." "About what?" Liam saw himself on a stage, in front of hundreds of Alphas, a whole auditorium filled with them, and making a fool out of himself. People would laugh. It would be a degrading experience. "Life. This and that. No one is expecting a speech from you, Liam. See I've been to a few of those meetings. There are only packs living close by attending these meetings. They're mostly boring. You stand around, do some small talk, maybe eat a quick snack, and leave. But they can also help you get a better idea of which packs are around yours. In the area. It can be interesting, if only so for scouting. But, of course, that does not mean you have to attend. It's no declaration of war not to go there. Just like you cannot declare war by saying a wrong word if you go." "Those are all Alphas, experienced Alphas probably, and then I show up. Junior McJunington. What will they think?" "Screw what they think. So what if they're older or more experienced? You're you and that's awesome" Theo passionately declared. "Thank you, Dr. Seuss", Liam hissed. He frowned and scratched his cheek. "I have to think about this." "As it is your right. Don't do anything you're not comfortable with." "If I should attend, there will be no problem? I can just show up there?" "The invitation is addressed to the Alpha of the Morning Dew Pack. They seemingly didn't get the memo about the change in our pack but that doesn't matter. The invitation is for you, not for me. Actually, no Beta can attend the meeting. And no Alpha mate either unless they're specifically invited." "I have to go there alone??" Liam shrieked. In his mind, he had Theo by his side. Maybe Brett and Caden since both could be real charmers and have intellectual conversations. Corey would have also a good match despite him being as insecure as Liam in those settings. Byron rubbed his hands together. "Those are the rules. But I know, alone or not, you will be just fine. Should you go or not. This is not something I can do for you. The decision is all yours. Just one more thing, to be fair. you will be the youngest in this group. By a few decades, I suppose. That's why I don't think they will pay you much attention. They're just curious." "Great", Liam said sarcastically. "Given my track records with strange Alphas so far, this will be a marvelous experience."

****** "I don't think you should go. What if that's a trap?" Tim worried about Liam's safety. Liam had informed his pack about the invitation right the next day and after classes, they were sitting in the living room and discussing this. "I think he should go. Just to check the others out. Maybe he can make allies?" Brett opposed. "I also think Liam should go. Byron said he has been to a few of those meetings. I don't think it's a trap", Sadie tried to dissolve Tim's worry and he gave her a grateful look. "The two strange Alphas I met in the last year have both tried to kill me. You understand I'm not keen on walking in a room full of unfamiliar Alphas?" Liam questioned. "I think that should be the reason you go", Ever stated, "to show all of them you're not afraid. If they plan on messing with you, you will look them in the eye. Maybe then they won't underestimate you." "I just don't see the purpose of those meetings. From what Byron said it sounds pretentious." Corey looked peeved. "Oh, it is", Lori confirmed. "But they are not that rare. I don't think you have to be scared, Liam." She offered a genuine smile. Liem returned it cause he knew she was trying to make him feel better. "What do you mean by not rare?" "Well, they're not, if you have Alphas of the old school" Brett took over from his sister. "Modern Alphas just meet up, talk, like Scott with Satomi. They don't even call it an Alpha meeting and send out fancy invites. Those are practices of the old guard, mostly well-esteemed werewolves who love to use those meetings to gossip. Ever seen those movies with scenes in Gentlemen Clubs? Country Clubs? Those are the people to expect at those meetings. Byron's not that far off when he says they won't spare you a look. You're - and don't take this the wrong way - not their type of person, if you know what I mean." "The Alpha from my parents' pack also attends such meetings. They always gush about the delicious and expensive things they eat there. But this woman also has a rich husband and considers herself playing tennis and golf as labor. So, pretty much pompous, entitled snobs", Sadie said. Maya rolled her eyes. "I also know about those meetings but I'm so glad I never met an Alpha going there before. Eh, no offense, Liam." Liam groaned. "Okay, just the danger of becoming the new hot gossip for the elite wolves around. Yeah, I think I'll pass." "I would still go", Caden chimed in. "It's a good opportunity to get to know how many are around. Do you know that? They invited Byron so their radius must be quite large but how many packs live between Seattle and the lake? Wouldn't it be good to know in case we need help? What if the hyenas come back? Having some werewolf allies would not be that bad."

He had a point. They all did. Liam was still torn. For once because he was afraid of making a fool of himself, then for the reason not to offend another Alpha and start a war, and on top of it, he now came to the realization just how different those Alphas seemed to be. He looked at his boyfriend. "What do you say?" Theo had listened to everything and had made up his mind. "You should go. For all those reasons. Byron said there will not come anything bad from it. He would never let you go to any event if he feared something might happen to you. If he says you can go, I believe him. And yeah, it is a good way to get information. Maybe there are not that many packs around. But you will only find out if you go." Since most of his Betas said he should go, he considered. Maybe it was a good idea indeed. Only one problem: "If it's that high class, what should I wear?"

Fifteen minutes later Liam regretted that question. He stood in his bedroom while Theo, Brett, Mason, and Sadie sat on his bed. Sadie throned between the other guys, one leg crossed over the other, and looked like she was having the time of her life. Liam was the poor victim and had to model several outfits for the self-proclaimed fashion experts of his pack (he knew Theo could dress good but at this point, Liam felt betrayed) who all had other ideas of the perfect outfit. "That dress shirt is perfect for you. Not too out there but also not too normal" Mason praised Liam's current outfit consisting of black pants and a dark grey dress shirt. Liam hated it. It was not even one of his shirts but one of Theo's Mason had just grabbed. His boyfriend had not protested (see, there was the betrayal) but now shook his head. "That's not the outfit to go." "Absolutely right. Liam, grab the one I hung there." Sadie pointed at the clothes and Liam grumbled but grabbed them and stalked into the bathroom. When he emerged again, he was wearing jeans, a blue slipover with a white button-down shirt underneath. Liam felt like he was a kindergartener dressed by mommy. "Now you look like back in Devenford. Then again, maybe this private school flair is exactly what you need", Brett snickered. Liam glared at him and Theo scoffed before he handed Liam the third outfit. Liam glared at him too for good measure and disappeared into the bathroom again.

The outfit Theo had picked for him, Liam didn't even know where he got it. He had never seen Theo wearing this particular combo. Cloth trousers, a polo shirt and a sports jacket over it. "How the hell do you get this? And why do you get this?" He asked once he emerged from the bathroom. Interesting, Theo became a bit sheepishly. "I got it for some occasions? Maybe a job interview?" "This is so not you." Liam eyed himself in the mirror. "This is so not me either. What were you thinking, guys? None of your outfits were good." "You wanted us to help you", Mason defended himself. "I wanted to get suggestions, not become your dress-up doll", Liam replied sharply. Sadie sighed. "You're being difficult. Don't you want to make a good first impression?" "A good impression as himself, shouldn't that be the goal?" Caden had walked into the room and crossed the arms in front of his chest. He looked at Liam. "You look strange. Actually, you look like me whenever my aunt visited the family. Horrible." "How do you look when your aunt visits?" Brett had to know. Caden pulled out his cellphone and searched a bit before he handed the phone over. Brett snickered. "Okay, thanks for the laugh. So dapper, oh my. One would not think that since you're almost only ever wearing more casual clothing." Sadie giggled. "Does Ever know you can look like that?" "As a matter of fact, yeah. She doesn't like it. I can relate. But my aunt is quite old-fashioned and conservative. She came to town, we dressed like that, covered up our tattoos, the whole shebang. We just never liked it. Liam doesn't like dressing up either." "Tell me about it. That's a topic we have had since we're friends." Mason rolled his eyes. Liam wanted to glare at him but if he was honest, his best friend was right. So he raised his shoulders. "I have dress shirts. I just happen to like t-shirts and jeans more." "Hence why I think you should wear that", Caden stated. "You are not like the type of Alpha who wears expensive clothing and the latest brands. You're Liam. We like Liam. Why do you want to be somebody you're not? Just to impress people you probably will never see again after that one time?" "That's true." Even Theo had to admit that. "I know when you're comfortable and you never are when you dressed up to a certain extend." "I still think if the occasion calls for it, you should make an effort", Sadie insisted. "It's not about what you want; it's about what our Alpha wants. Liam goes to the meeting and Liam has to represent himself and our pack. He should do it as his truest self possible", Brett retaliated. She pouted.

But then she got up from the bed and walked towards Liam's open closet. She dug around there for a while before she pulled out a pale blue t-shirt. It was a new one, Liam had only worn it twice and he loved how soft the fabric was, it felt good and comfy on his skin. Sadie handed it to him. "The color makes your eyes pop. That and that one light blue jeans you have. If you walk into a room full of strange werewolves, bright colors make you look friendlier." "That's Sadie. If you can't dress them up the way you want, at least get into chromatics", Brett praised.

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

Quite a Liam-centric chapter but then again he's the Alpha and Landon's brother. And he had to make decisions. Now the question is, what will happen at the meeting? What do you guys think? All I can say is, I'm excited about the new chapter.

#Thiam #A tale written with fangs and claws #alpha!liam #My writing #Morning Dew Pack series

8 notes · View notes

mydrug-is-dragonage · 3 years

Text

Veda Adaar, Life after Bull

Victory. Triumph. Glory. Pride. What we usually feel when we win a battle. The quiet grief of cutting down lives, regardless of how worthy they are of death, but the warm joy, knowing we saved someone or something or everyone or everything from a grand or small evil.

Victory. We stood on the balcony, crowded together, together again for the first time in years. Thom and Sera, Divine Victoria’s watchful eyes, Cassandra and Varric’s constant disdainful flirting, Cole and Maryden’s quiet affection, Dorian and Vivienne both wine drunk trading insults, the quiet acknowledgement of a friendship that grew against both of their wills. Josephine and Cullen arguing, treating the terrace like battlements, more performative as they both know the end is closer than the beginning. Solas, our own personal god, long-gone into the eluvian. We’re all here, we’re all together. All of us, but Bull.

Triumph. The weeks have passed, a quick and effective rebuke from the Arishok, King Alistair and Empress Celene accept it quietly, no time for war with another battle floating above us in the air. Back at Skyhold, a skeleton crew, these days just Harding and me spend our time in the battle room, staring at maps; Leliana’s other protégés are always off on missions. Sera pops by every now and then to see Dagna with bees and trinkets and little things to remind me that she’s never really gone. The best day, or the worst depending on the audience, Sera and Dagna came up to my room, giggling, presented me with a crossbow for where my arm ought to be. “Widdle’s a wizard, yeah! You’ll be on rooftops sticking it to people too big for their breeches in no time!” I thanked them, and sent them away. This is love, at least for Sera. Her love is violence and showy maneuvers, dancing with both hands and feet shaking about.

Glory. Josephine writes me letters, telling me to eat, to ask Cullen to write back. After a few months, she finally pens, “I know I am no longer your formal ambassador, but as your informal friend I find it painful to admit what has been sung in the inns and halls. Bards have taken your loss and turned it into song. Unlike what Maryden had composed, these are unfortunately mocking in nature. People have taken the final act and written it as the whole narrative, my lady. A play premiered in Val Royeux putting you at the center of the conflict, as the one who allowed it to happen. If you desire, I can put an end to this. Divine Victoria recommended assassins, but I’ve temporarily dispelled her more primal desires. Likewise, Mr. Arainai also reached out, grateful for the assistance you had given him evading the Crows. I similarly told him no. Above all, regardless of what action we take, I want you to know I am sorry. You’ve lost much, suffered more than so many of us. I’m sorry, Veda. I love you.” It wasn’t unexpected, bards sing, playwrights write. They tell the tales people want to hear. Immortalizing betrayal has always turned them into legends.

Pride. A cold morning, one with little to be done, Charter and Rector off in Nevarra, the crows neither coming or going, Lace came into my room, “Sorry to bother you, V, we’ve got a vistor.”

“Avoidable?” I ask.

“What an impossibly rude question, darling.” I looked up from my desk and saw her horns pointing from the stairway.

“Oh, Vivienne, I wasn’t expecting you,” I said. I don’t stop the smile on my face. For all our differences, we’d become like sisters. On her best days, she’d fawn over me like a mother.

“That’s Grand Enchanter now, My Lady Inquisitor.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Lace said, excusing herself. I waited to hear the door close, then the other. Vivienne stood, graceful and stoic as ever. A few more moments of silence, then she broke into a smile. She took off her hat, placed it on the sofa, and walked towards me, arms splayed.

“Oh, my dear, how I’ve missed you!” I stood up, robes draping and hiding me.

I leaned into her hug, resting my head on hers. “Grand Enchanter, really Viv?”

“One must keep appearances, darling. Besides, imagine if Bull heard you call me…” She heard it as it left her mouth. “Oh, my sweet, I’m so sorry. While we should have anticipated his betrayal, I know the loss must weigh on you heavily.” She nestled further into my chest. I breathed out, for a moment just Veda, not the Inquisitor, not the betrayed lover, not the important person forced upon me. I was mortal, Vashoth, tall and strong and being hugged by someone who loved me enough to allow me to be small and weak. We settled onto the couch. I pulled my legs in front of me

“You know better than anyone. I remember, I was there when you lost Bastien.”

“And I was there when you lost the Iron Bull,” she sighed. “We are sisters in grief, as well as sisters in victory. We’re sisters in success, although your’s has had its struggles as of late. I assume the Divine told you of the bards?”

“Josephine.”

“The Nightingale sending a gentler songbird. Wise.”

“I assumed it would happen. Charter brought back the lyrics and playbook from what she considered the more consumable tales,” I said.

“They’re vile, darling. I offered the services of the Circle. The Divine declined. I assumed she had sent assassins.”

“No, I turned down the offers.”

“You’re losing political capital, my dear. If you want to return to the world, recruit who you need to defeat Solas, you’ll need allies. New allies, old allies. It will require quite the force and connections. You know you have the Circle, as much as we can politically sacrifice in this turbulent time,” she said.

“It isn’t the first thing on my mind, at the moment,” I said.

“And why not darling? If you choose to remain in obscurity at some point it will no longer be a choice.”

It’s spring, it is the last night at Skyhold before we leave for the Exalted Council. Cullen and Josephine have been up bickering most the evening, finally put to rest. I settle into my room, sitting at my desk, twiddling my pen. My bag is packed, the horses are ready. The door creaks open. I don’t look up, I can smell him from here. Even after a bath he smells like home, smoky and warm. “Hey, Kadan.”

“Hey,” I say, “they finished?”

“Well, Cullen is now arguing with Cabot which gave me enough time to get the serving girls to feed Josephine. She wanted to get back to bickering, but I asked her if the itinerary had been checked. So I think they’re fine for now.”

“They’re just worried about tomorrow, the coming weeks. It’s normal,” I say,

“You’re the one who grew up with humans. They worry too much, but it makes them easy to work with. Like clay.” I smile and look back down at my papers. “Enough work, Kadan. You can’t do anything more today.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Are you going to make me?” I smirk.

“Oh, is this what we’re doing?”

“Oh you didn’t know?” I laugh. “I thought you knew it all, everything I needed, Ben-Hassrath training, remember?” He smiles and walks towards me, I slide back in my seat and he scoops me up.

In bed, his heart pumps slow and heavy in his chest. I trace his body with my hands, his arm around me. Our horns rub against each other, small grooves from the years of lying here together. “Better?” He asks.

“What do you think?”

“I know. I just want to know if you know.” I lean up and kiss him.

“Yes, better.” He smells better when he’s sweaty. Something about those early days, seeing him tear through crowds, watching his arms lift and push those heavy swords and axes. Long before, when the Chargers still existed, when he wasn’t just my man, but their man.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“I’m sorry, you know,” I say. For a moment, he’s silent, sitting in the grief.

“You made the right choice. You made the only choice. You led like a Qunari.”

“It shouldn’t have been my choice. I should have let you decide,” I say.

“No,” He says, clipped. “You are the Inquisitor. It was your decision, to keep the alliance or lose it. You made history. You stopped a batshit insane darkspawn from destroying the world.”

“I could have stopped him anyway,” I say.

“We don’t know that. The Tamassrans used to say, ‘When there are no right choices, the right decision is the one you make and the one you live with.’” I nestle into his chest.

“I’m happy the Qunari have kept you here.”

“Me too, Kadan.”

“I love you, Bull.” He pulls me closer into him. For a moment, I wonder if he’s crying.

“I don’t want you to be angry, Viv,” I said.

"Oh what now darling? First you go into solitude like a hermit, what’s next?” I put my legs down and pulled my robes back. “What’s this?” She looked, at first with curiosity, then her eyes widened. “Veda, oh Veda, are you?”

My eyes well, “Yeah, Viv. I am.”

She covers her mouth, the first time I’ve seen her truly shocked. “And is it…?” With that question, the tears fall. The heavy sobs wrack my chest and Vivienne crawls towards me, arms draped around my shoulders and I cry into her chest. “Oh darling, of course you’ve been distracted.” She rubs the back of my head, stroking my neck as I calm down. “Should I ask Harding for some tea? Juice? No wine, of course.” I shake my head. “Oh dear. Who all knows?”

I swallow and trap my tears in my chest. “So far you, Leliana, Thom, and Cassandra. Lace knows, and she’s kept questions from Charter and Rector to a minimum.”

“You haven’t told Josephine?”

“How could I? What could I possibly say, ‘Oh yes, enjoy your new career in Antiva! By the way, I’m carrying the betrayer’s child! Send my love to Yves and Yvette!’”

“I don’t think keeping it secret is much wiser, my dear. People will know, especially once the child is here. Do the Qunari know?” She asked.

“As far as Leliana’s sources know, no. Bull was loyal to the end, they had no reason to think he’d do this, especially when it hadn’t happened in the years before.”

“When did this happen?”

“Right before we left for the Exalted Council,” I said.

“Oh.”

“I know,” I said. “He must have known. I can’t decide if this was kindness or cruelty.”

“What’s that line he always said, darling? ‘When it’s a hostile target, you give them what they want. When it’s someone you care about, you give them what they need.’”

The tears well again. My hands slide to swollen belly. “It isn’t what I wanted. I had never even considered it. He was Qunari enough that I knew we’d never have a family.”

She reached a hand towards my belly, “May I?” I sniffed and nodded. She placed her hands on my stomach, on top of my own hands. “If this isn’t what you wanted, then it must have been what he thought you needed.”

“He couldn’t have known we’d win. He fought like he meant it. He struck me with his blade. He wasn’t fighting to lose.” The anger and grief mixed in my throat.

“He wasn’t, he never did, darling. But he knew you. He knew us. He knew you’d bring me and Cassandra. He knew what the Qunari could and couldn’t do. He believed in you, at the end. Just as he had at the beginning, my dear.” I took a hand from my belly and moved it to the outside of my horn, the groove still there from the years spent lying together.

“I’m not planning on bringing my child into the public life. We’ll have a few years, at least, presuming we aren’t all destroyed by Solas,” I said.

“Shh, no reason to worry about that right now, darling. We have today’s troubles and tomorrow’s troubles.” She sat back and blinked away her own tears. “I’ve never been an aunt before. I’ll of course send over a suite of clothes and supplies from Val Royeux.”

I wipe my eyes and smile, “Are you going to be an aunt or a Grandma’am?”

"Oh you miserable louse, how dare you?” She said, the tears finally pouring from her eyes.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #inquisitor #adaar x bull #iron bull #the iron bull #inquisitor x bull #da #dai #fanfic #dragon age adaar #bull x adaar #dragon age vivienne #madam de fer

30 notes · View notes

dyde21 · 3 years

Text

Learning - 1

Also available on AO3 HERE

Summary:

Peter Parker has a lot on his plate. Too much. He's also just so damn tired all the time. But people are counting on him. Counting on Spider-man. So he can't afford to slow down. He just has to keep moving forward.

Until everything falls apart because of a pancake.

Luckily there are people there to help pick up the pieces.

Peter learns how to accept help and how to grow.

XxXxXxXxX

Peter Parker was pretty sure his biggest enemy was Spider-man. Spider-man meant the world to him, and he really wasn’t sure he’d ever find himself in a place to give up the mantle. Maybe if he found someone to take over for him, or if the city didn’t need him anymore, he could afford to slow down.

But as he grew into a young adult, he knew that it wasn’t a possibility for him anytime soon. His mind and body yearned to be out there when he had gone too long without saving someone. He could just imagine the scenes of the people he didn’t save when he wasn’t out there. The lives lost or ruined because he was not out there.

As much as he knew he had to be Spider-man, there was still a part of him that yearned to be a normal college student. Someone who could have weekend movie nights with his friends after long hours doing homework together. Someone who could drop by his aunt’s place and cook dinner with her to catch up after a busy week. Someone who could plan a date night weeks in advance and know for sure that he wouldn’t miss it or bail early. But he had resigned himself to the fact that he couldn’t have that.

He hated how much he hurt others. He hated the disappointed, yet understanding looks his friends gave him everytime he had to leave early or show up late. He hated how he had lately stopped making promises because he longer believed he could keep them. So he had to make it up to them. He tried desperately to prove how much he cared about them every chance he got. Little gifts, reminders of conversations, jumping at the chance to do anything in the moment while he was at their side. He dreaded the day they realized he wasn’t worth all the trouble, he knew it had to be coming soon. But he could feel his life falling apart at the seams.

But Spider-man wouldn’t. Spider-man wouldn’t disappoint the city. Even when they hated them, he’d still be out there protecting it. Because people needed Spider-man. People needed Peter. He had to live up to those responsibilities.

However Peter felt so tired. He could feel himself running on fumes, but he’d manage. He always did. He always had to.

Until suddenly he couldn’t. Until Peter broke.

It hadn’t even been a dramatic fight with someone like the Rhino. It hadn’t been an explosive alien bomb he couldn’t deal with. It had been a pancake.

Midterms sucked for everyone. Normal students and superhero students alike, they just sucked. A week of projects and tests and papers that were all due around the same time. It was a cruel seasonal rite of passage. Unfortunately combining that with having missed almost the maximum number of classes allowed in the term already, Peter was behind. But that wasn’t anything new.

But the same old problem was still a problem. Which meant that was how Peter found himself on Saturday morning stopping by the corner store and grabbing a six pack of energy drinks, a couple of cups of noodles, and some chocolate for comfort’s sake.

He had a long weekend ahead of him, and he knew he just had to get through it. Maybe he could take it a little easier. Pausing before the counter, he had walked back and grabbed a couple of bags of Ned’s favorite sour worms. He knew Ned liked to snack on them when he got stressed and he knew there was a coding midterm Ned had been stressing about all week.

After he paid, he made sure to take the long way around and stopped by MJ’s favorite tea place. Filling up a thermos, he had also splurged to get her a few boxes of the teas they imported there from fairly traded farmers abroad. MJ had done research into the brand and found they were providing a good opportunity, and she liked the tea so it had been a win-win. Sure it had cost him a bit more, but he figured he could just cut back on his meals for a week, no biggie. The protein bars Bruce had made for him ensured he got the vitamins he needed, so he figured it’d be fine.

Swinging by MJ’s place, he felt a small surge of energy in his otherwise exhausted body. He loved seeing her, and he knew she tended to isolate herself when going into heavy work mode, so their interaction would be brief but if he could make her smile it would be worth it. He knew things were still a little tense after he had been forced to bail on their anniversary dinner because Rhino had decided to go on a rampage to ruin his love life. He really, really wanted to stay. He had even promised himself he wouldn’t let normal crime alerts stop him, but the Rhino was more than the police could handle. One masked crazy required another. He had even been trying to force himself to stay when she had grabbed his hand, and with that same sad smile told him to go.

Making his way up to her small studio apartment she shared with Gwen, he had knocked on their door, shifting from place to place. Should he have grabbed flowers? Maybe that would be too much. Also too expensive. Should he have picked some? He knew MJ liked to complain about cliches like that, but also knew she liked them more than she would admit, considering he had seen the handmade card he had crafted her on valentine's day at Pepper’s advice was still on her desk months later. Shoul-

He was cut off from his internal rambling by the door being opened up. An exhausted, weary looking MJ stared at him, in open confusion. Normally she’d be better about putting on some sort of mask, but he could tell she was pretty tired too. She was dressed in sweats and one of his hoodies she had stolen when she came over the night before their anniversary.

A range of emotions crossed her face. Surprised. Guarded. Frustrated. Concerned. Happy.

“Hi.” She said simply after a moment, clearly waiting for him to say something.

“U-uh hi. Yeah. I just…” He realized he really should have thought of what he wanted to say before showing up.

MJ raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe. “I’m kinda busy.” She said, before she winced. He had a feeling she was still a little hurt about their date, but also hadn’t meant to sound so cold to him. He couldn’t blame her. He deserved it.

“Right! I know.” He cleared his throat. “I know. I promise I’m not here to bother you. I just… here.” He said, handing her the thermos. She took it, surprised before she took a sip and a smile crossed her features. Peter’s heart melted a little at it. He also shoved the two boxes of her favorite tea into her arms. “Also these. And an apology. I’m really sorry. I know I say that a lot. And it sucks. But I am.” He said, his eyes drifting to the floor. He hated how familiar this felt.

“I know.” MJ said softly, before he saw her feet step forward, and he felt her tip his chin up as she kissed him gently.

Peter returned it for a moment before he stepped back. “I know you have work so I won’t distract you. I just… wanted to give you a little care package, and say I know you’ll rock this. I can proofread your article if you need me to too. Or just to get an opinion.”

MJ’s expression softened again. “Thanks, Tiger.” She said, a soft smile. Then her brow furrowed. “Are you okay though?” She said, reaching out to grab his jaw and turn it as she inspected him. “Have you been eating? Sleeping? You look like shit.” She said bluntly, but not uncaringly.

“Oh, ouch.” He said with mock affront. MJ just rolled her eyes, knowing he knew what she meant. “Midterms.” Peter brushed off her concerns with a shrug. “Happens to us all. I mean you always look beautiful. But you also look a little less beautiful. Only stunningly gorgeous today.” He offered a small smirk on his face.

MJ rolled her eyes again, shoving his shoulder weakly. “I’m sorry I didn’t try to make myself look nice hoping you’d drop by unannounced.” She replied in a dry tone. “But Gwen and I are making sure we take care of each other. You’re still living alone since Ned moved in with Betty. I’m worried.” She confessed.

Peter offered her what he hoped was a reassuringly and not as fake looking as it felt smile. “I’ll be fine. Just gotta get a lot done this weekend. Then I’ll rest next week sometime. Maybe we can have a night in, no suit, no alerts.” He offered.

MJ looked at him skeptically, like she knew that was an offer that probably couldn’t be kept. But she must have also seen how desperately he was hoping for her to say yes. Some little hope to hold onto to get through the weekend. She nodded.

“Yeah. Sounds nice. I’d like that.” She affirmed, leaning in for another quick kiss. She paused, pulling out the collar of his sweater. “Pete, you need to eat. You’re losing weight again.” She warned, seeing how pronounced his collarbones were starting to be again.

He stepped back, pulling it back. “I will! I bought stuff today.” He didn’t mention it had been energy drinks, sugar, and salt pretty much but he didn’t need to worry her anymore. “I can’t wait to read your article. You better send it to me!” He said as he started down the hallway before he could drag any more of MJ’s attention away from her work with concern for him. He didn’t need it. He’d be fine.

MJ just watched him leave, sipping her drink for a moment before she let her head slump against the doorframe with a sigh. A bad feeling welling up in her stomach.

Peter’s next stop had been over to Ned’s place.

When he knocked at the door, he figured MJ must have texted him because Ned didn’t seem surprised in the least.

“Hey Peter, come in for a sec.” He said, practically dragging him into the apartment. Peter was surprised by that, having planned to just make the drop and leave, but he was herded over to a stool at the counter and forced to sit on it as he fished out the gummies to give to Ned.

“Here man, I know you still have to finish up the code then work out the bugs in it. I brought you emergency rations.”

Ned gave him a quick side hug, taking them. “Thanks. Now eat.” He ordered as he deposited the gift as his computer.

Peter was confused until a sandwich slid in front of him, along with a drink and a cookie. He looked up, seeing Betty looking at him with an expectant look. It reminded him of MJ. He had a feeling they had been hanging out a lot more recently.

“I’m fine.” He offered weakly, feeling bad they were taking time to take care of him.

Ned crossed his arms, giving him a thoroughly unimpressed look he had honed over years of dealing with Peter’s bullshit. “Dude, you look even more barebones than usual, don’t think a baggy sweater hides that. MJ said you are doing your gift rounds too which means you’re stressed out because you picked that up from Tony too.” Ned laid out, honest. “Eat the damn sandwich.”

Betty was side-eyeing Ned like she didn’t agree that the best way to get Peter to eat was to snap at him, but Peter just sighed and took a bite of the sandwich. It tasted so good he wanted to cry. He almost did, but he busied himself with taking a bite of the cookie before he could lose his shit over a sandwich someone made for him and start up a whole new series of conversations he wasn’t ready for.

He devoured the sandwich probably too quickly because Betty looked like she was about to make another one just to keep him eating. But he forced himself to stand up. “Thank you. Really. I needed that.” He confessed. “But we both have work so I should get back.”

“It’s fine if you want to relax here for a moment.” Betty offered with a gentle smile.

Peter’s throat felt tight at the nice offer but shook his head. “N-no. I’m fine. Both of you have work to do too. I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Pete…” Ned started but Peter just fist bumped him and left, laughing a bit too hysterically for it to seem natural.

“I’ll be fine man! We’ll catch up next week.” He promised as he quickly made his way out of the apartment. He felt like he was about to start crying for too many different reasons and wanted to be alone for it.

He heard them still calling after him as the door closed and he practically rushed down the hall. He just had to get home. He could be alone in his home.

By the time he got home, Peter had managed to get himself in control. AKA, shoving all his annoying emotions and impending breakdowns deep within him to deal with at a later time. He had studying to do now, he didn’t have time for pesky things like proper emotions.

Pulling out the first energy drink, Peter just leaned against the counter and closed his eyes. He’d be fine. He just had to get through this weekend and he could afford a little rest. He made a point not to think of how he had made that promise the previous weekend as well.

Pulling out his phone, he found the photo he was looking for and smiled for a moment. It was a selfie of him and MJ. MJ was standing in the suit after she had wanted to try it on one night, and he was kissing her cheek as she was mid laugh. He could do it for her.

Moving over to his small kitchen table, he cleared everything off it by piling it onto the counter haphazardly and set up his laptop and books. He glanced over at the stacks of dirty dishes with a frown. He had gotten a lot worse at keeping them clean since Ned moved out. Looking around, he saw the entire place had kind of gone to shit since Ned moved out. Stuff piled up everywhere, too much dirty laundry, a bag of trash he hadn’t taken out yet tied in the corner.

Normally he went over to MJ’s place since Gwen had done a good job with the interior design of it and it was spacious and well organized. He did his best to hide how bad his place looked, too ashamed.

Pushing down more thoughts of how much of a disappointment he was for failing to keep his apartment together he sat down at the computer as he took another sip of his energy drink. He just had to get through this.

Pulling up his assignments he began to try and organize them. Working was something he could do. Solving problems was something he was good at.

A few hours passed and Peter had actually managed to make quite a bit of progress on his assignments. Which was good. Figuring he needed a break, he got up and moved over to the ramen. His stomach was angry now, and wanted a proper meal but he didn’t exactly have enough money at the moment to splurge. He was tempted to swing by the Avenger’s tower to grab a meal there, but he knew they might get on his case if they saw him looking this rundown. Turning on the electric kettle, he turned on some music to listen to it while he waited, closing his eyes to take a moment to relax.

It was a playlist MJ had made for him, and he knew all the songs by heart now, including the order of them. It helped him relax. Singing along softly, he waited for the kettle to click off as he poured it into the cup of noodle, pleased his hands weren’t shaking. Going into the drawer, he paused as he saw he had no clean forks. Of course he didn’t, cause he was a fucking mess.

He bit his lip, hating that a tear escaped his eyes as he trudged ever to the sink and quickly washed one as he blinked away the burning sensation in his eyes. This was dumb. It was just a fork. He just had to do the dishes. Eventually.

Finally cleaning the fork, he set it on top of the cup as it heated up the noodles and just slumped into his seat, letting his head fall against the table. He was just so tired. He had time to kill until the noodles were cooked enough so he could close his eyes for a minute…

Peter stared in horror as MJ struggled to pry herself from the metal gauntlet wrapped around her neck. Her feet dangled helplessly over the edge.

“Pe… peter. Help.” She choked out.

“LET HER GO.” Peter tried to scream out but no words would escape him. Iron Man’s cold eyes stared at him.

“You were a mistake.” He said in an emotional robotic voice as the hand opened up.

Peter ran towards her, but as he stepped the suit around him dissolved, leaving him in his old homemade suit, and none of his tools. Desperate anyway, he jumped off the edge, trying to dive for MJ but she was falling too fast for him. He couldn’t make it in ti-

Peter woke with a start, knocking one of his textbooks off the table as he looked around. It was darker. With a groan, he checked the clock. 3 hours had passed. Great. Guess that would be enough sleep for the night. Glancing at his phone he saw some messages from MJ and Ned but he really couldn’t bring himself to respond to them at the moment.

Wiping sleep from his eyes, he hated how he had slept for three hours he didn’t plan to, but still felt exhausted. Nightmares sucked.

Walking over to his noodles, he peeled off the lid and stared down at them. They were super soggy now. Peter was pretty sure he’d be more disappointed if he had the energy to be. Instead he just moved back over to the table, and flipped open his textbook to the section he had to go over again for the test because he had missed that class after a big fight and getting too injured to go in for it.

He slowly ate his soggy noodles as he stared at the same passage, reading it a few times but not really absorbing it. By the time he had actually managed to process all the content on the page, he felt his fork scraping against the bottom of the now empty cup. Great.

Setting it down on the table he just leaned back and stared up at the ceiling. Where was his life even going now? Why the hell was MJ even with him?

He checked his messages finally, both of his friends checking on him. He sent them a generic assurance before he sighed. Forcing himself to his feet, he figured he needed to make himself useful. He quickly changed into his suit as he saw the sun starting to set outside. He knew he couldn’t afford to spend too much time out as Spider-man tonight, and probably none tomorrow so he figured he would make it count while he could.

As he warmed up and swung through the city, for the briefest moment it felt like he was able to forget his problems. Like his real life was hidden away back in his nest of an apartment, and out here he was just Spider-man. The hero with no obligations, able to save people and bring a smile to those who didn’t despite him.

The rush was almost enough for him to avoid the bone deep exhaustion creeping through his body. He managed to stop a few robberies, a carjacking, and helped a drunk person find their way home without much issue. It helped his mood a bit, feeling useful. Feeling like he was actually able to take control of things and do some good.

What didn’t feel good though was seeing Rhino rampaging down the street. His shoulders slumped, he was not in the mood to deal with him today. He still had homework.

Swinging down, he caught a car that had been knocked to the side, and set it down with a grunt of effort. Normally he didn’t have that much trouble lifting one, so that was probably a troubling sign. Still, he swung after the large man.

“Didn’t I put you away like last week? Where are they even sending you, juvie?” He complained as he dodged a few punches from the overzealous russian.

“No cage can hold the Rhino!” He called out in return, making Peter sigh.

“Apparently.” He muttered as he launched himself towards him, slamming his fist into Rhino’s chest with enough force to send him toppling backwards. His hand was sore now, but he really wanted to end this quickly and he knew Rhino was tough enough for him to be a little less gentle.

The Rhino got back up and threw a car at him. Peter managed to catch it, but it left him in an awkward position as the Rhino charged through it, sending him flying into the wall of a nearby hotel. He gasped in pain, and barely had the reflexes to shoot his hands out and catch Rhino’s horn before it impaled him into the building. Slamming a kick into the Rhino’s jaw, he dazed him enough to push off of him and get some distance between them.

“I think I’m sending you to the zoo next. I hear they love to take in hopeless cases.” Some part of Peter wondered if he qualified for that.

“The only place I will be going is to your funeral, Spider-man!” Alexios roared out as he charged forward.

Peter just managed to dodge to the side and hook a web onto one of his legs, pulling it into the other one as the man fell over.

“Aw, you’d attend my funeral? You do care!” He praised as he launched himself up, before twipping two webs on either side of the Rhino and pulled himself down, slamming his knee into the back of the Rhino’s head with enough force to finally knock the man out.

Before long the familiar sirens showed up as the police must have realized it was safe for them to come detain him to pass him off to the proper authorities for enhanced individuals. Peter loitered for just a minute to make sure the Rhino didn’t get back up.

“Hello Animal Control. I’m afraid this guy is a little jumpy.” He offered with a wave, still standing on the Rhino’s back.

“Spider-man! You’re under arrest for property destruction and inciting violence.” They said as they raised their guns at him.

Peter’s hand dropped to his side. “Really?” He said in a flat tone. He just took down the criminal they couldn’t keep behind bars for a month, and they’re trying to arrest him.

With a sigh, Peter quickly hopped to the side in a flip, landing on the wall before launching off and dodging a few rubber bullets that had been shot his way. At least they weren’t trying to kill him this time. He quickly swung off into the distance, until the sirens were far out of earshot as he landed on a roof, leaning against the wall. He held his side, wincing as he could tell a few of his ribs were definitely bruised after the entire fight. Great. Just what he needed when studying.

Asking Karen for the time, he saw a couple hours had passed. With a sigh, he made a few more laps as he headed back to his apartment, climbing in and stepping out of his suit.

He made his way over to the bathroom, wincing as he saw his entire side was pretty much one giant bruise. Treating the basic cuts he could and doing other basic first aid, he slumped his way over to the table. His entire body ached, and he wanted to just curl up and sleep but he still had an essay to finish and two tests to study for. Sleep was just one of the many luxuries (and necessities) he couldn’t afford at the moment.

Opening another energy drink, he chugged it quickly and tried to power through some more work. If he could at least finish the essay he might be able to BS his way through the tests. So he started writing. He was pretty sure there were more spelling mistakes than were reasonable for a college student. But he kinda sorta had an outline. At least something he could work from.

Leaning back in his chair, he immediately winced and regretted his decision and he leaned forward again. Stretching wasn’t a good idea with his bruises. He also noticed his bruises were barely healing, which was worrying. But something he’d just have to deal with next week. If it didn’t heal by Monday he could deal with some strange looks for showing up bruised, it wouldn’t be the first time.

His phone buzzed and he saw a message from MJ.

Saw the alert. You okay?

Peter sighed. MJ stayed very up to date on any spidey news, so she pretty much knew every time he was out patrolling cause at least someone would report it on a fan site. Or the news if that battle was big enough like the Rhino.

I’m fine. Nothing broken this time. Promise. Which was true.

You better not be lying. Wanna read my article? Are you caught up on midterms?

Peter glanced over at the laptop with the barebones of an outline on it, and the two textbooks only halfway read on the table.

Yeah, doing surprisingly well. I can use a break. Send it over.

Thanks, Tiger.

Peter grinned down at the screen, and opened up his email, waiting for the notification. A moment later it popped up.

Here’s the essay. Lemme know your thoughts. Make sure you drink water tonight, and go shower. I know you’re lazy about it after patrol.

Peter rolled his eyes, but listened to her. He quickly hopped in the shower and changed into his last clean set of clothes before he got some water to sip along with his energy drink as he started reading her article.

Peter loved MJ’s writing. She was clear, concise, and he could practically hear her personality in the words. No matter what the subject was, he found himself enamored with reading what she wrote. She treated the reader with respect, and always offered a fair balancing of views on the issue, while not being afraid to make assertions that might make her a little less than popular at times.

Still, she was trusting him to offer proper feedback so he did his best to put aside his feelings for the author and focus on what he was reading. He noticed a few instances of some premises she presented as true without supporting them that he drew attention to, a few grammar mistakes, and one part that felt so clunky he had to read it a few times and he was still a little unsure just what she was saying.

Peter knew she’d rather he was honest and straight forward, while still polite about any potential issues in her article than hold back on his critique in order to be nice. She’d actually be pissed at him if he held back, so he stayed honest.

Sending the article back to her after double checking his own work, he leans back and looks at the clock on his wall. 2 am. He frowned slightly, but pulled over his text book. He was tired of writing for the moment so he started to read, doing his best to stay focused despite his creeping exhaustion. He normally likes to nap after a patrol but he had too much work to do.

A couple of minutes later when he was about half way through his third energy drink, he got a notification from MJ.

Thanks Tiger, you’re the best. You actually made good points, I’m impressed. Need me to check over your essay?

Peter frowned, looking at the outline he hadn’t touched in a couple of hours and still had no desire to work on.

It still needs some work before I can show it to anyone. I’m good, thanks though. Love you.

Love you too. Get some sleep, okay? I know the Rhino is annoying and I saw you get hit with that car. I can help you study tomorrow so get some sleep.

Peter smiled at her concern. He swore she knew him almost better than he did, as she was determined to keep him alive and she decided that meant knowing what kind of threats he would find himself up against.

You still have studying to do too, don’t worry. I’ll be fine. He replied as he glanced around his apartment. It was a mess, and he knew she’d yell at him if she saw the state he was living in lately. He wanted to live better than this but he was just so tired.

She didn’t respond, so he figured she had fallen asleep like a normal human would.

With a sigh, Peter downed the rest of the energy drink and splashed some water on his face. He had to get through this. He pointedly ignored the bruise that was looking worse and worse as he moved his textbook and notes to the couch to be a little more comfy than the old wooden chair at his table and laid down to read it, turning on the TV on low for some noise to distract him. He just had to keep working, he could do this.

Cracking open his fourth energy drink, he set it on the table and set to work.

By the time his phone showed four, his eyes felt incredibly heavy. Even the energy drink he had just finished seemed to have been doing nothing more to his system. Leaning his head back against the pillow, he let out a sigh. “Fuck.” he mumbled to himself. He still had another day of cramming to get through.

He managed to force another hour of studying out of him, enough to finish off the first book before he gave up. Setting about 12 alarms, he set them for 8 am, figuring three hours would be enough to kickstart his system into functioning again to get through tomorrow.

He laid his head back against the pillow and within seconds he was out cold.

Peter woke up to about the fifth alarm on his phone as he groaned and reached for it, his textbook sliding off his lap as he managed to find the phone and shut off all the alarms. Somehow he almost felt worse than when he went to bed.

Forcing himself to his feet, he only staggered a few steps before he had managed to regain his balance. He felt like death and he stumbled over to his bathroom. Brushing his teeth, he winced as he saw the side of his neck still showed a heavy bruise. It barely looked more healed than it would for a normal person. That was… really not good. A part of him considered going over to the Avenger’s tower to get it looked at. But he couldn’t… he had midterms.

Stumbling back over to the kitchen table he sighed and dragged his other text book over to him. He had to keep studying. His body would be fine, surely. He went to reach for another energy drink, but his stomach churned and he hesitated, before grabbing the water. For some reason just thought of more of the caffeine made him feel like he needed to go throw up.

He had only managed to get about an hour of studying in before his stomach was desperately screeching at him to get some food into him. Sighing, he gave into it and wandered over to his kitchen. Opening his fridge he saw… condiments. Some pickles, and a barely not empty jug of milk.

He felt his heart sink at it. God, why was he just a fucking mess? Slamming the door shut, he tried to keep his breathing even as he started rummaging through his mostly empty cabinets. He paused when he saw a bag of pancake mix. Right. He had made pancakes with MJ one night as a night in. Grabbing the mix, he looked around only to see all his bowls were dirty. Biting his lip, he just shoved all the dirty plates into one sink and piled the rest up next to it, before he washed a bowl and a pan, and a spatula in the sink, breathing a bit heavier.

A few minutes later he was finishing up the first pancake but the pile of dishes next to him just kept tearing into his heart.

Worthless.

A joke.

A disappointment.

A mess.

Peter realized he didn’t have a plate to pour it onto. “FUCK!” He shouted, far too loud for the time in the morning it was as he quickly half cleaned a plate, drying it off with shaky hands as he moved to the pan.

Now grabbing the slightly burnt pancake, his hands were shaking too much as he used the spatula but it tipped off the edge of the plate and fell onto the floor.

He watched it slow motion but he couldn’t bring himself to catch it with his reflexes. He was just so tired.

It landed unceremoniously on the dirty ground. Something in Peter broke.

“GODDAMMIT!” He shouted as he threw the pan with enough force that it broke one the cabinets on the opposite end of the kitchen and he just dropped the spatula and slid to the ground.

He curled his fists in his hair and just fell apart. He couldn’t stop the tears as he held his head. What the fuck was he doing with his life? He was just so damn tired. He was falling behind in all of his classes. His apartment was an embarrassment. He was broke. He had an amazing girlfriend he just kept disappointing. He needed to turn off the fucking stove and he couldn’t summon the strength to stand up.

He just clenched his head tighter, head between his knees as he did his best not to scream and get in even more trouble with his neighbors.

He heard the sound of someone approaching his door. He wanted to stand up. To hide his mess. To do anything but he just continued to sob on the ground, everything falling apart.

There was a knock on the door.

“Peter?” MJ’s voice called out.

His stomach dropped. No. She can’t see him like this. He tried to stand up, but his legs weren’t responding. Everything was so bright, and everything was starting to get so loud He tried to speak but couldn’t find the words. He heard her knock a few more times, as well as the muffled voices of people in the hallway saying something he couldn’t make out in his state.

“Peter!” MJ’s voice was more frantic this time as he heard the door unlocking. Fuck. He forgot she had a spare key.

She rushed in the apartment, looking around. He heard her gasp as she saw the broken cabinet. “Peter?” Her voice was more frantic as she turned and saw him on the ground. He tried to stand up again but his entire body was shaking and he couldn’t stop the fucking tears.

“MJ…”

In a flash she was at his side, looking him over for any signs of injuries. He saw her eyes flutter around the apartment, taking the state of it in before they settled back on him as he buried his head into his knees again.

“Peter…” Her voice was barely a whisper.

He couldn’t take it. He didn’t want anyone to see him this low. Especially not MJ. She was going to leave him. She should.

“Are you okay?” Her voice was gentle again.

Shakily he looked up to her, deep into her eyes. The truth rushed out of him, desperately clawing its way from deep inside.

“No.”

#spideychelle #peter parker #michelle jones #MJ #Ned leeds #Betty Brant #MCU #Peter is a disaster #and needs help #AND HES GONNA GET GET IT #Cause I like people figuring their shit out

14 notes · View notes

ambivalentmarvel · 4 years

Text

so the story behind this is that @sreppub arrived in my dms saying “sitcom starring two uppity, former rich guys and a regular poor college kid who follow up an online ad and become roommates” and i said something along the lines of “your MIND” and here we are. she does the art, i do the fic, and we both yell a lot along the way. read it on here or ao3 and enjoy!!

The Sitcom Supreme

If Peter or Stephen were around to hear Tony tell the story of how they all ended up rooming together, they would have plenty of objections, to which he would call them both dirty liars, to which they would gang up on him because they’re terrible and like that, to which he would probably throw up his hands in exasperation and/or make the mistake of engaging them in a debate, to which they would grin like wolves because, once again, they’re terrible and like that, but Tony’s the asshole who put up the Craigslist ad, so he gets to start—because he’s terrible and like that.

It’s a common trait amongst the three of them, what can he say?

The beginning of the story does not involve either of the other two, however. It begins with Rhodey, who is only occasionally terrible and like that. Rhodey has been Tony’s best friend since the tender age of fifteen. Considering Tony at age fifteen was a greasy little douche bag with too much money and a whole bunch of daddy issues that were somehow more obvious then than they are in the present, this is an impressive feat.

Where things start, Rhodey and Tony are roommates at MIT, which is Howard’s school of choice to shove his problem child onto. Tony is supposed to get a single dorm room, but there’s a cockroach problem in that building. Administration has to get creative, which is how Rhodey, fresh out of boot for the fall semester, gets saddled with approximately one hundred and fifty pounds of neglected teenage boy who has only kind of gone through puberty.

The first words out of Tony’s mouth are blunt: “Any chance you have plans to drop out?”

And Rhodey looks at him with a raised brow, efficiently unpacked and totally unimpressed with the enormous stack of Tony’s things wavering in the doorway. “You have any plans to quit being annoying?” he retorts, which set the tone for their entire relationship.

Tony loves him to pieces.

He’s the older brother he never knew he needed, yanking him by his collar from frat parties on the weekends and to his house for holidays because getting swamped by Rhodey’s six younger siblings is infinitely better than having to wear a suit and tie for Christmas dinner with six CEOs and maybe some senators, depending on the year. In return, Tony sees him through every finals week of his collegiate career, during which Rhodey gets so nervous he usually pukes at least daily and pulls so many all-nighters Tony memorizes the exact shade of red his eyes are at the end.

So, it’s safe to say they get along well. They get along so well, as a matter of fact, that when they stare at each other after their graduation ceremony for their Masters—a two-year process for both of them, and Rhodey receives two degrees to Tony’s four—surrounded by Rhodey’s family and Jarvis, Tony’s lips curl in a smirk Rhodey knows spells the best kind of trouble. “What do you say we keep the roommate streak alive, yeah? Howard’s building an office in New York, and I’m thinking of doing a doctorate at NYU.”

Rhodey’s brows raise, but he’s grinning, so Tony already knows his answer. “Depends. Are you still gonna’ snore?”

“Are you still gonna’ have a stick up your a—”

Mama Rhodes shoots Tony a look from where she’s trying to corral the rest of her kids.

“—butt?” he finishes with a sheepish glance her way.

Rhodey does not even remotely have a stick up his ass, but of the two of them, he features in tabloids far, far less, which Tony somehow uses to his advantage.

“You know it,” Rhodey replies, and so they find a fancy penthouse that Tony mostly pays for, with the excuse of Rhodey satisfying his part of rent via generally covering Tony’s ass to the best of his ability. And he has a lot of ability, honed from years upon years of Tony self-destructing at the drop of a hat, but there’s only so much he can do, especially as his military career just keeps flying higher and Howard just keeps pushing Tony harder.

A few sex tapes, especially wild benders, and crashed cars later, when Howard cuts Tony off and tells him, quote, “I won’t speak to you until you learn to do something other than disappoint me”, Rhodey very gracefully still shacks up with him in their considerably less fancy apartment.

This is all important to know, contrary to what someone whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange might say about Tony’s “long-winded” and “overly-complicated” storytelling tendencies because it explains exactly why Rhodey is a traitor.

Is Carol a very cool lady who could kick Tony’s ass? Yes. Is she sickeningly cute with Rhodey and not just because a smile from her makes him melt into a pile of fucking goo on the floor? Also yes. Does it probably make more sense for Tony to find roommates who will actually be around to monitor his—allegedly—poor mental health and self-care habits? Okay, fine, yes, but the bottom line is, Rhodey is moving in with Carol and abandoning Tony, and nobody said he had to like it.

(This is not strictly true, what with the approximately ten conversations Rhodey and he have had about his happiness and how, if Tony needs him, all he has to do is say the word and he’ll be back, but Tony has always had a flair for the dramatic.)

The whole idea is that Tony will find someone gone less than Rhodey with all his military business to enjoy having around the apartment. It’s technically a three-bedroom, but he and Rhodey use the extra one for storage. Fortunately or unfortunately, that storage area has become a lot of junk they go through before Rhodey makes his grand exit, and Tony suddenly has the option of having two roommates.

The ad is a low point, he can admit that, but there is a flaw in what Tony loudly calls Rhodey’s master plan to leave him alone to wallow in misery: Tony doesn’t exactly have a lot of friends, nevermind people who he’d want to live with.

“Rhodey. Honeybear. Platypus.”

“The nicknames are old, and you need to stop using them around Carol. She called me Platypus last night during sex, and it ruined the whole mood.”

“You poor thing.”

“She thought it was hilarious.”

If Tony has to lose Rhodey to anybody, by God, Carol is his first choice by a long shot.

“Anyway, as I was saying, Sourpatch—”

“I hate you.”

“—how am I supposed to find someone else to live with?”

Tony is thirty-two and regularly speaks out with all of four people: Pepper, Rhodey, Carol, and Happy. Unfortunately, Happy works in Stark Industries’ California branch and has stated rather firmly that he’s not interested in transferring to the city, Pepper wouldn’t live with another person for love or money, and the other two are spoken for.

It’s a terrible situation to be in, honestly.

“Craigslist,” Rhodey deadpans, fighting with some packing tape.

Tony feels his heart stop beating in real time from his place folding some of Rhodey’s clothes into a plastic tub. His head snaps up, and his jaw drops, absolutely affronted. “You would suggest that I, even disowned and stripped of my former glory—” Tony has several million dollars in the stock market, but that’s neither here nor there and isn’t much compared to the fact that he was supposed to be a billionaire. “—would stoop to looking for live-in friends on Craigslist?”

Rhodey looks up to meet his eyes, unfazed. He’s used to Tony’s antics after nearly two decades of friendship. “Well, I’m not moving out until you have at least one person guaranteed to take my place, so unless you have any better ideas, yeah.” He shrugs—just shrugs, as if he isn’t advising Tony to scrape the bottom of the fucking barrel in terms of reliable people to regularly fall asleep around.

It’s insulting.

“I’m not putting out an ad for a roommate on Craigslist,” he protests, shoving the next horribly colored polo into the tub with disdain.

That night, he tears up thinking about stopping Rhodey from being happy with Carol, and the post is up by the time Rhodey gets up—stupidly early, like normal—for his morning run. Along with his contact information and a few blurry pictures of the place, it includes a blurb about the circumstances.

Best friend moving out. Need a roommate or I will die of Sadness. His girlfriend is cool but hewas mind first. Carol, I am watching you. Two rooms open for business. But not sketchy business. You can just lve there. Current resident (me) is cool and very charming. I am a man. No dumb fuck offers. Thanks.

It could use some work, but Tony’s never been great with words, even less so when he’s crying to rock ballads at two in the morning. He edits it when he wakes up, and by noon that day, it’s looking better.

At seven o’clock that evening, he receives one of two messages that actually work out.

Enter the first offender: Peter Parker.

Peter, Tony will learn, is nineteen, attending NYU—like Tony did, which is a sign, really—for a double major in biochemistry and physics, and has the worst luck of anyone Tony’s ever met.

Rhodey’s moving out in a week—he’s been putting off finding a roommate for a while, alright—and Peter has to legally be out of his dorm in three days. That is quite the predicament, and Tony, by nature, is a curious creature. He is not, however, one for beating around the bush. That results in a text that reads exactly this.

Tony: What the hell did you do?

He could hack through the university files, but explanations are always more fun with a personal touch that’s lacking in, say, an incident report. Tony watches a bubble with three blinking dots for a long, long time, and the reply is surprisingly sparse—sparse enough, in fact, for Tony to have more questions than answers when he receives it.

Unknown Sender: theres been a few things but the kicker was the fire

Tony: The fire?

Unknown Sender: i tried to make popcorn and the microwave blew up

Now that is some problematic behavior Tony can get behind. He amends the kid’s previously non-existent contact information.

Tony: How can they kick you out for that? That’s not your fault.

Roommate (?) Peter: it blacked out the power on the entire first floor

Tony: And?

Roommate (?) Peter: last month i got the blame for contaminating half the campus water supply

Roommate (?) Peter: so i was already on thin ice

Tony: Accidentally?

Roommate (?) Peter: idk sometimes things just happen to me

Tony doesn’t know how to respond to that. If Rhodey knew, he’d never let him live it down. He can hear his annoying laugh in his ears like a premonition—“Hah—Tony, speechless?”—but then there are the dots again and a simple message to follow the last, a touch pathetic.

Roommate (?) Peter: please let me move in

Tony likes him.

Peter shows up on the stairs of the complex thirty-six hours after Tony posted the ad with a backpack and a meager total of six beat-to-shit boxes. The backpack holds nearly all of his school supplies, which makes Tony, in retrospect, genuinely fearful for the integrity of his spine, and the contents of the boxes are sorted, as Tony will learn, into three categories that each have two boxes in them. The categories are fairly simple—clothing, necessities, and whatever other shit he could fit from his dorm—and leave Peter with thrilling possessions such as an entire collection of truly atrocious shirts with science puns on them, a gallon of hand soap, and any food he had in his cupboards.

Thankfully, Rhodey is out furniture shopping with Carol when Tony goes out to meet him, which solves the problem of Rhodey going into overbearing caretaker mode at the sight of a beanpole of a kid failing to manage their life successfully. As someone who has been made many a you-haven’t-eaten-a-meal-in-two-days-and-I’m-secretly-a-panicking-mother-hen casserole, Tony counts his blessings.

Tony waves. “Peter?” he asks, reluctantly changed out of his pajamas for the day.

The kid nods. “That’s me. And you’re Tony?”

“Guilty as charged. Want a hand with those boxes?” he asks, watching Peter lift three at a time.

“No, I got it,” he insists, and then the box on top slides out of his grip and onto the sidewalk.

Peter stares at it for a second before he lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Maybe I could use some help,” he admits, and with much struggle, the two of them, each with three boxes, waddle inside. There is a moment and only one moment where Tony thinks that it might be nice to have some extra assistance, but with another thought of the things Rhodey would do at the sight of a woefully inept college kid, Tony decides it’s for the best.

Tony leads the operation, considering he has the key and also knows explicitly where they’re going, and he would have to say his biggest complaint about the ordeal is that Sam, who lives in the apartment below Tony and Rhodey with Steve and Bucky, happens to open his door as they walk by.

Being an asshole, he has something to say about it. “Need some help, shellhead?” he crows.

Tony wishes he had a free hand to flip him off.

“Watch your back, Wilson,” he growls in return, a continuation of the beef the five of them have maintained since they met approximately seven years ago, when they all moved in on the same day and kept knocking into each other’s shit in the halls.

When they reach the top of the next flight of stairs and Tony starts to fumble with the key, Peter asks about it. “So—uh—who was that?”

“That was Sam. Part of the deal with moving in is that you harass him and the other two idiots who live with him. He also responds to jackass, douchecanoe, or birdbrain.”

“Birdbrain?”

“It’s an old joke. He had a rather—” Tony grunts, forced to set down his load to unlock the door, “—spectacular run-in with some pigeons a few years ago.”

“Oh.”

“They shat on him. A lot.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a good nickname,” Tony assures him, throwing open the door with his arms flung wide for dramatic flair. “Welcome to Casa Stark. I mean, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker now, but if we’re hyphenating, my name goes first because I lived here first.” He holds up a finger as if to stall Peter, who has yet to speak from where his mouth is decidedly blocked by the aforementioned three boxes he is carrying. “And I know what you’re going to say—that Parker-Stark works better because it’s alphabetical—but that is where you are wrong because letters have no place in this house. Numbers are much preferred, and we play by seniority here, anyway.”

He gives Peter a meaningful look that he cannot see because, once again, boxes.

“More on that, by the way—”

“Hey, Tony?”

He cuts him off which is, objectively, rude, but Tony rarely gets along with people who aren’t a little curt with him from time to time. This is a positive sign, really, so he allows it.

“Yeah?”

“This can be Casa Stark-Parker, but can we get to somewhere I can set these down? My arms are, like, going to give out on me.”

Not even ten minutes in, and he’s already learned the art of bargaining. Tony’s proud, and he ushers him inside without any more monologues and a grin stretched across his face.

Peter, by virtue of moving in before Rhodey is out, ends up with the room that is no longer being used for storage. Tony has several questions for him, beginning with the fact that, despite the six packets of instant noodles he bothered to bring, he does not appear to have a mattress. Or a desk. Or a dresser. Or anything that’s supposed to go in a room.

His solutions for Tony’s concerns are as follows.

In place of a bed, he has two blankets, one to put on the floor and one to cover himself with. He was planning on sitting on the floor to do schoolwork instead of using a desk. And finally, he was going to leave his clothes in the boxes.

This is all relayed to Tony with an earnest gleam in his eyes and a smile.

Tony blinks in disbelief. Then, very eloquently, he says, “Kid, that is the saddest shit I have ever heard. Aren’t your parents helping you with the move to an apartment?”

The kid shifts from foot to foot, shoving his hands in his pockets and glancing to the side.

Tony’s eyes narrow. As someone who is extremely well-versed in avoidance tactics, he feels very confident in saying that is definitely a fucking avoidance tactic.

“About that,” he begins, “first of all, I’m an orphan.” Jesus Christ. “Second of all, my aunt doesn’t exactly—uh—know I got kicked out of the dorms.”

That is all interesting information, to say the least, but luckily, Tony thrives under pressure.

“Alright. I can respect that.”

It’s not like he never hid anything from his parents. Evading his aunt is Peter’s problem, not Tony’s. None of this is Tony’s problem, really, except then he looks around the room and wonders which of Peter’s boxes are holding his two blankets.

Tony was concerned about Rhodey, but he can’t stop himself.

“But I’m also gonna’ level with you—you’re not sleeping on the ground. You can take the couch.”

The until I get you a proper bed frame and mattress goes unsaid, but sometimes things like that are better as surprises. It’ll be a fun housewarming gift, Tony thinks, and by the time the shipment from IKEA arrives containing both of those things and the aforementioned missing dresser and desk, there will be a third roommate to help put it all together, not that either of them know it yet.

That night, Rhodey and Carol show up with enough ingredients for lasagna to serve four, and Tony delights in showing off Peter as they cook because now he has a “super cool roommate too! Take that, Platypus.”

Rhodey glances to Peter. “If you’re being held hostage, blink twice.”

“Hey!” Tony protests. He is a perfectly lovable roommate, thank you very much, and he’s so offended, he’s not even going to let Rhodey know about his mission to furnish Peter’s room.

God bless her, Carol just laughs.

The four of them get along with surprising ease, considering Peter’s only been around for a few hours. Peter even tries to help with the lasagna, but Tony has a near-photographic memory and has not remotely forgotten the popcorn incident, however vaguely it was described.

“You just sit there and be a nicer person than Rhodey,” he urges him, and Peter nods, hiding his grin behind his hand at the argument that starts.

Once everyone is done, he and Rhodey get suckered into dish duty while Carol spirits Peter off to the living room, claiming she has to warn him about what he’s getting into. Tony doesn’t care enough to complain, and when her back is turned, he splashes a plate of suds onto Rhodey’s front.

Rather than rise to the bait, however, he raises his brows, slipping into what Tony affectionately calls his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode. “You have to be a good example for him, Tones.”

Tony blinks. “I’m sorry, did you just say—”

“I’m serious!” They keep their voices mostly down, but Rhodey’s rises a bit with the declaration.

“He’s nineteen—an adult, in case you forgot. He signed the lease all on his own and everything,” he hisses back incredulously.

He thought he dodged the bullet by not disclosing just how underprepared Peter is to live in an apartment, but Rhodey’s head dips. Tony braces himself for the part of his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode where he tells Tony he’s making a bullshit excuse and needs to get it together. “Don’t give me that. He’s a baby adult at best, and you know it.”

Yep, there it is.

“That’s still an adult!”

It is! Tony was on his own way earlier than nineteen. This is not a big deal, no matter how outlandish Peter’s circumstances are for moving out of NYU’s dorms.

“Watch his back.”

Tony scoffs. “It’s not like I was going to feed him to the wolves. I’m barely thirty—I’m not his dad.”

“Tony.”

Ah, the final, crushing blow of this version of Rhodey: his name—but with emphasis.

Tony sighs. “Fine,” he acquiesces. “I solemnly swear I will not let him get up to no good.”

A beat. Rhodey squints at him, slowly lowering the plate he’s holding into the sink. “You told me you refused to read Harry Potter.”

Shit.

Back when the books were first coming out, Rhodey was insufferably obsessed with them, and Tony loves him, but emotionally, he couldn’t handle having Rhodey think he was willing to discuss anything having to do with the series for longer than thirty seconds. Thus, he read the books—everyone in the world was doing the same, okay, and he cannot stand being out of the loop—but lied to Rhodey about it.

And now, he’s been made.

Rhodey and he launch into a very spirited discussion that draws Carol and Peter back to the kitchen, and despite the vein throbbing dangerously in Rhodey’s forehead, the promise has been made.

The day after Rhodey moves out, he and Peter manage to flood the bathroom.

In Tony’s defense, he only promised to look out for Peter. He said nothing about curbing his own dumbass tendencies, and it’s not like Bucky’s bedroom is all that damaged by the leak that Tony fixes before it’s really even a problem.

He and Peter settle into a nice sense of camaraderie, and Tony, content with his situation, forgets to take down his Craiglist ad that, logically speaking, someone would have to dig to find at this point, over a week after initially posting it.

Then, he receives a text that is as simple as it is effective: Is there still an available room in the apartment?

Enter the second offender: Stephen Strange.

Ahem, Doctor Stephen Strange, technically, but Tony has six PhDs. Nobody sees him going around making people call him Doctor Stark, and that’s because it makes him sound pretentious and stuffy, both things Tony prides himself on not being. However, Tony likes to push buttons, and very little gets Stephen worked up as fast as someone ignoring his credentials.

It’s a fun set-up, really, but annoying the piss out of Stephen is something that comes a little later—Tony’s not there yet in the story.

He humors the text, and after getting a read on things, he bursts into the living room, startling Peter nearly off the couch. He’s been doing his homework there and on the coffee table in front of it because the Swedish have many things but fast shipping is, apparently, not one of them, not that Peter knows there’s anything to be waiting on, but he’s getting off-topic.

Peter lets out a short yelp and presses a hand over his heart, both things that Tony ignores.

“We have a situation,” he announces.

“I swear I didn’t do it,” Peter defends pleadingly.

Tony is trying to teach him that messing things up is expected and, especially in particularly magnificent cases, admired in Casa Stark-Parker, but it’s a work in progress.

“I know you didn’t—don’t be ridiculous,” he waves his concerns off. “We are talking bigger than setting things on fire by accident. I bring you, my young protege, the proposition of—” A pause for dramatic effect. “—another roommate.”

“Ooh,” Peter says appropriately, setting his textbook down to examine the texts Tony brandishes. He begins to scroll, but while he does, Tony figures he can go ahead and fill him in on the essentials. It’s a very juicy situation, after all, and he can’t help himself.

“His name is Stephen Strange. He’s a neurosurgeon, but he got into a pretty bad car wreck that messed up his hands. He’s trying to save money while he goes to physical therapy—he apparently has a chance of recovery, but it’s a ways off—and that includes downsizing on where he lives.”

“I mean, yikes, but that’s an oddly specific backstory.”

“I’m glad you think that too, but I am intrigued. I looked him up, and he’s a real person—has a basically flawless reputation, or at least he did before his accident. Thoughts?”

Please say yes, please say yes, Tony thinks. The chance of a competent human—not including Rhodey, who looks more put together than he really is next to the chaos Tony perpetually dwells in—choosing to live with him is too fascinating to pass up, and he needs Peter to see that too.

Peter shrugs. “I’m down if you are. How old is he?”

Victory!

Satisfaction floods Tony, but he tries to maintain his cool.

“Thirty.”

Peter blows out a long breath, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. “I didn’t anticipate moving into a nursing home,” he remarks dryly.

What a little shit.

It’s worth noting half the reason Rhodey left so easily is because he said he trusted Peter to keep Tony on his toes. Then again, that Tony likes being snarked at is a large part of why they get along so well despite only knowing each other for a matter of days.

“You’re the worst, Parker. I’m going to feed you to the hooligans downstairs. Steve has a monster appetite, you know.”

Peter hums, picking his textbook back up. “Not if I feed you to them first. And, Tony?”

“What?”

“Only old people say hooligans.”

Tony thinks about that one book, Give a Mouse a Cookie or whatever. Except in his case, it’s Rent a Teenager an Apartment, and Tony doesn’t have to adhere to the literary equivalent of a G-rating.

His response to the dig is creative and colorful, and Peter laughs.

Four days and a brief conversation at a coffee shop later—a formality he and Peter did not do and probably something Tony should’ve thought of as the older adult before giving him the address—Stephen’s team of movers invade the apartment.

The man himself stands like a drill sergeant at the last flights of stairs it takes to get to the apartment, arms crossed, beard wild, conducting activity.

Peter and Tony share their evaluations, peeking their head out from the doorway when it’s unoccupied by movers and Stephen isn’t looking their way. This involves quite a bit of ducking, but they are very careful not to be caught.

(Someone’s whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange later informs that “they were not at all subtle” and “were, in fact, very embarrassing”, but that’s how things with the three of them generally are, so Tony figures it was a good crash course to how life together goes.)

“He’s kind of scraggly,” Peter whispers, his head under Tony’s because he’s the shorter of the two of them, something Tony delights in refuting Peter’s quips about his age with.

“Kind of? He looks like a hobo.”

It’s true, okay? Facially, at least, the guy is a wreck. He’s not quite to Einstein levels of bad hair day, but he’s getting there.

“Be nice,” Peter chastises him. He’s gentler than Rhodey when he does it, but considering neither of them ever shut the hell up and they have thus bonded very easily over the course of their short relationship, it’s gotten to feel as natural as most of their interactions.

“All I’m saying is that I am happy to retain my place as the most attractive person in the apartment, okay?”

They’re forced to retreat from the entryway as another load comes through, and Peter looks at him disbelievingly. “Dream on,” he replies bluntly.

Tony gasps in offense.

Peter shrugs. “Look, I’m just gonna’ say it—you knew Rhodey before me, and now that I’m here—” he trails off, looking at Tony in faux-sympathy that doesn’t match the mischievous glint in his eyes.

While it is true that Rhodey is a fine specimen of a man—yet another reason Tony can’t, in good conscience, be truly angry Carol mooched him away from the bachelor lifestyle—Tony can’t cede that easily for the sake of his pride, and he scowls. “I am going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

They’re still bickering as the movers finish up and Stephen enters the apartment, dressed in what Tony recognizes as the latest from Armani and Tom Ford.

He may not get invited to fashion week anymore, but he still has taste, alright, even if Rhodey limits him to one designer purchase a month.

(Rhodey isn’t around to see what packages he orders now, Tony thinks but shelves the thought for later.)

Tony and Stephen met over coffee, and all three of them said hi to one another before the moving business officially began. However, there is a little stiffness in the air, make no mistake. It’s not Stephen’s fault, exactly, because he’s just kind of a foreboding guy, but still.

It figures that Peter would break the ice. As Tony’s found and will continue to discover, Peter is just as talkative as him. Granted, that trait usually appears in the form of rambling about something from class, but it’s not surprising that his natural passion for life comes through with someone about to be very, very involved in it.

“Hi!” he begins. “Are all of the movers gone now?”

Stephen raises an unimpressed brow. “Yes.”

His reply is seriously lacking enthusiasm, but Tony isn’t allowed the opportunity to jump on that as Peter keeps going.

“Sweet! Okay, so welcome to Casa Stark-Parker.”

Woah, woah, woah—timeout.

Tony frowns, raising a hand in a motion for Peter to stop. “I thought that was my thing?” he interjects.

“Well, it has my name in it, so it gets to be both of our things,” Peter replies, then furrows his brow, looking to Stephen. “Actually, since you’re here now, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker-Strange. Order’s based on who got here first, sorry,” he explains with a smile that Tony, now familiar with the fact that Peter has more to him than meets the eye, notes is a touch impish.

Tony is pleased to see, despite his generally wholesome appearance, the kid has at least picked up on the power of staking a claim.

Stephen blinks. His hands, Tony has noticed, don’t stop shaking, not even when he folds his arm across his chest, like a physical barrier between him and Peter’s excitement. “Okay?” he drawls slowly, confusedly.

“Tony’s rules, not mine,” Peter assures him as if he doesn’t just want the satisfaction of having his name not be the last in the line-up.

Tony scoffs. “Oh okay, so now we’re throwing me under the bus?”

“You have to take responsibility for your actions, Tony.”

“Oh, sure thing,” he replies, tone betraying that he does not, in fact, think any responsibility is at all necessary. He looks to Stephen, rolling his eyes. “Can you believe what I have to put up with? And it’s barely been a week.”

Stephen blinks again. “I see it’s a lot,” he says measuredly.

Peter gasps, unaffected. “Oh my God, we should make a sign for it,” he enthuses. “We can put it up on the door, and we’d be so much cooler than Sam and them.”

To say that Peter rose to the challenge of bothering their downstairs neighbors with zeal is something of an understatement.

Tony is, honestly, a fan of the sign idea, especially if it were to light up, but that is where Stephen cuts in, his hands still trembling as he gestures. “Can we slow down for a moment?” He looks carefully from Tony and Peter and back again, bearing the appearance of a man in the throes of realizing he has made a bad decision.

Tony knows that look well. It usually shows up when Rhodey agrees to one of Tony’s ideas and doesn’t realize just how badly constructed it is until it’s too late.

“First of all, I am fairly certain my car is parked illegally, and before we get too far, I need to fix it before I get towed. And secondly,” Tony watches Stephen’s lips curl in a self-satisfied, I-totally-think-I’m-better-than-you-even-if-I’m-not-technically-saying-it smile, “I am not here to be part of any Casa. I am waiting for physical therapy to work for me, and then I will be out of your hair. I appreciate being able to live here, but—”

Yeah, Tony’s had enough of that. Personally, he would like to thank Rhodey, who, in a way, begins and ends the story, and truly is the greatest best friend a man could have for teaching him how to properly deal with pompous rich people.

“Nuh-uh, none of that. If you’re living here, you’re a part of Casa Stark-Parker-Strange whether you like it or not.”

Stephen looks downright appalled that someone would dare to interrupt him, which, Tony knows from experience, is exactly the kind of shock rich people need to go through. He splutters for a second before he manages to get out a reply, “That was not in the lease.”

Tony spreads his hands as if to say what can you do? “And you didn’t mention in your texts that you were going to try to be a bump on a log, but here we are.”

Perhaps sensing the mounting animosity in the room or maybe just as excited as Tony to have someone to bother, Peter takes advantage of Stephen’s overwhelmed and bewildered state.

“First day with all three of us!” he shouts. “Picture!”

And before anyone can protest—including Tony, who would prefer to be documented in something other than a Black Sabbath tee and his work pants—Peter leans in with the camera on his phone ready to capture the moment.

In the resulting photo, Tony looks vaguely alarmed, Stephen looks pissed as hell, and Peter wears a grin that stretches across his whole face. The whole thing is blurry, and they eventually get it framed.

It’s a beautiful and fitting start to their time as roommates, and in the humble eyes of the asshole who posted the Craigslist ad, that is how the story of how they came to live together went.

#tony stark #stephen strange #peter parker #supreme family #iron dad #spider son #fic #tss #ambivalentmarvel #if you tag this st*rker you die by our blade

359 notes · View notes

voidstilesplease · 3 years

Text

in another life

part two

Stiles assures Theo answers for all of their questions -god knows they have so many- tomorrow. Theo's reluctant at first, doesn't intend to let go of Stiles's words hanging in between them: "You think she's alive?" Eventually, Theo nods, finding something in Stiles's eyes and placing his trust in him. An odd feeling of protectiveness settles in Stiles's stomach at the vulnerability that Theo freely displays - in the past, he used to act guarded like everyone was out to get him. Granted, Theo had conned most of them before with charm and fake tears, and it's not above him to try it again if Theo could gain something worthy from it. But Stiles doesn't feel the usual tingle in his bones when he meets some shady criminal mastermind. His instincts have gotten him this far, so he gives it credit.

Stiles sighs. Innocent until proven guilty. He hopes Deaton has answers that expose the truth.

In the meantime, they have saddled him with more responsibility: bringing Theo home with him. Theo refuses to be stuck with either Liam or Mason any longer, it is unwise to put Theo alone with Melissa, and stupid to leave him unattended. So Stiles is the only viable choice. Plus, Theo thinks they're together. It only makes sense. Maybe.

It probably won't to his dad initially, but hey, after a while of normalcy, even he will acknowledge the need for something to go down - even dressed as Theo Raeken.

•••

They're in Stiles's Jeep, driving home to the Stilinski's, and it is a little disconcerting how Theo seems to be accustomed to his car. Theo had seen and been in the Jeep before, but this is different. He's too comfortable in the cramped space, even knows how to operate Stiles's defective radio. And the way he leans against the seat on the passenger's side and knows where to keep the screwdriver Stiles uses to manipulate the ignition is boggling his head worse than the snow outside.

Stiles draws in a breath, glancing sideways to his quiet company. "So, um, Deaton," he says, "we're going to Dr. Deaton tomorrow."

Theo turns to him, frowning. "What kind of doctor? Are you taking me to a shrink? Babe, I'm not crazy. What happened is freaky, but you have to believe me."

Okay, the babe thing, they're going to have to iron that wrinkle as soon as possible. Not even Lydia called him babe when they dated, and certainly not Malia. It's a cosmic joke that the once bane of his existence gets to call him that first. "No, he's not a shrink," Stiles promises him. "He's a veterinarian. But he knows about these things."

Theo arches a brow, "He knows about teleportation?"

"Telepor-" Stiles creases his forehead, jerking his head to Theo. The latter is expectant when he looks back. Stiles blinks, disbelieving and a little horrified. There's also a small bubble of hysteria beginning to form in his stomach. Somehow, this takes the cake in the weirdness of the situation. Because, of course, Theo also doesn't remember he's a chimera, does he? Blowing a heavy breath, he turns back to the road. He rubs the side of his temple, where it's starting to hurt, and purses his lips. "Yeah, sure. Teleportation."

Silence hangs in between them for a moment, Stiles sighing when he takes the last turn to his street. He can feel the burn of Theo's stare at the side of his face.

"You really don't remember we're together?" Theo sounds genuinely small when he speaks. "Then why are you here, if not to take me home? The two -Liam and Mason- are accusing me of having amnesia. But it's you who can't remember."

Stiles opens his mouth, but he doesn't know what to say. He knows that if he tells Theo that he remembers an illusory life, it's only going to invite more questions Stiles has no answers yet. In honesty, he's still reeling until now, and he's too tired to consider diving into research mode immediately, much less form a cohesive plan other than to bring Theo to Deaton first. And the best thing for them both to do before then is rest. They can't do that if Stiles stays up all night convincing Theo that they're not even friends, that he was a lying, conniving chimera asshole that tried to break his pack once, before turning a new leaf and helping them, and then disappearing on them like a bubble one day. Oh, and yeah, that it's so twisted for him to think his sister was alive when he had allowed her to die when he was nine.

No. Rest, Deaton, and then fuck up some shit - Stiles is doing this in that order.

"Hm," is what he ends up saying. Stiles pulls in the driveway, noting the blue truck already parked there. He's relieved to find a change of topic. He clears his throat, pointing at the vehicle. "That's your truck. Corey, Mason's boyfriend, drove it here."

Theo doesn't look away from him for the entire minute it takes Stiles to turn the engine off and gather his belongings. When he looks at Theo, that's only when the other man lowers his head and breathes. Theo nods and gets out of the car, moving towards the truck. Stiles silently prays for more strength if this is how awkward it is going to be for the whole evening until the morning.

Theo is studying his blue truck, eyeing it with trepidation. Stiles slings his messenger bag and stands beside him. Theo turns to him, shaking his head. "This isn't my car."

Stiles moves to the bed of Theo's pickup. "It is," he tells Theo.

Stiles is, unfortunately, familiar enough with this car, and not with pleasant memories. Stiles lifts the haphazardly strewn cloth covering most of the space of the truck bed and makes a noise of disgust with what he finds underneath. It was definitely tidier before.

Theo also peeks under the cloth and pulls his face in a similar reaction. An alarming amount of empty plastic noodle cups and take-out boxes litter the covered area. "It can't be mine because I'm not crazy for instant ramen."

Stiles drops the cloth and walks to the driver's seat. He cups his hands on either side of his eyes and looks inside through the window. He finds a folded blanket at the backseat and a pink sweater on top of the pile of clothes. The chimera wore the hell out of those, Stiles remembers grudgingly. Transferring his scrutiny on the passenger side, he sees empty water bottles and coke cans, and old receipts. What the hell has Theo been up to that he can't even throw his trash out or attempt to be less sloppy?

One thing is sure, though. The car is where Theo lives; the pizza in the backseat looks stale but not molded. He faces Theo and gives him a grim nod, "Let's discuss the condition of your car and your unhealthy lifestyle tomorrow, yeah?"

Theo huffs, wanting to protest and eyeing his car in disgust, but shrugs in agreement.

•••

His father is working the night shift, so explaining Theo is a problem for future Stiles, which makes him sag in relief under the hot spray of his shower. When he's finished, he changes into clean sweatpants and an old Christmas ugly sweater and goes back to his room.

Theo is already sitting on his temporary bed on the floor. Stiles refuses to make him sleep on the couch where the kitchen and knives are near. At least, inside his room, he can fight him should Theo attempt anything at all. Stiles has gotten better at hand-to-hand combat since the FBI, and also a very light sleeper and sometimes prone to insomnia, especially on stressful occasions like this. Any minor shuffling from Theo will alert him. Not that he thinks Theo will do anything. His impulses tell him that Theo's memory dilemma is not made-up, and he's truthful this time, but it's always better to be safe than sorry.

Theo looks up when he enters, offering a small smile. Stiles's eyes catch sight of the outline of a necklace hidden underneath the collar of Theo's borrowed shirt. Stiles's clothes look a bit tight on him but otherwise, more comfortable than the dirty jeans he was wearing earlier.

"It's so weird to see your old bed," Theo says, looking at the said bed. "Noah brought you a bigger one so that we can share when we visit. I wonder what happened to it?"

Stiles drops onto his bed with a small bounce. He didn't expect that. "Oh, um,"

Theo meets his eyes, "And Roscoe," a shadow crosses his face. "You took down all of the polaroid pictures we put of us. You even replaced the screwdriver that I gave you with an old one."

He sounds so betrayed that Stiles is stunned by what he's hearing. What startles him most, though, is: "You know my Jeep's name?"

At this question, Theo looks downright affronted. But Stiles has every reason to be surprised. His mom, his dad, and Scott are the only people apart from him who knows his Jeep's name -not another soul. Not even Lydia.

"Of course, I know your Jeep's name," Theo responds with a deepening scowl. "We've been together for four years, Stiles."

Stiles raises a hand to halt Theo as his cogs turn in his head. A swell of panic takes root in him. This memory thing is more serious than he initially thought. Theo's not only hallucinating a different life but he also somehow knows things he shouldn't. The screwdriver compartment, his broken radio, his Jeep's name -what else does he know that he isn't supposed to?

"Okay," Stiles finally says, lowering his hand and barrier from Theo, who's still glowering. It seems he has lost his patience with Stiles, as well. If this continues, Stiles might snap, too. So he says as appeasing as he could. "Let's say that whatever happened to you affected our memories of each other. But we'll go to Dr. Deaton for answers tomorrow, and then we can go back to our normal lives. Yes? Do you trust me?"

As soon as he says it, Stiles wants to take it back. It seems like a strange concept to ask Theo, of all people, to trust Stiles after everything. As crazy as Stiles actually trusting Theo. But here they are.

Theo doesn't reply for a long time, but he looks pensive and considering as he glares. In the end, he huffs in surrender, shoulders drooping in defeat. For the first time, the bags under his eyes become more prominent in his features. He looks so weary, hurt, and confused. Stiles is well acquainted with that look. It's the look of someone who hasn't been sleeping well. With the state of Theo's truck, Stiles has no problem picturing the man twist-and-turning to find a good position and not finding any.

Theo dips his head, replying with a rough voice, "Yeah. I trust you."

Before Stiles can say any more, Theo gives him his back and reclines on his mattress. He pulls the covers on himself, like a shield, and mumbles good night to Stiles.

Sighing, Stiles turns the desk lamp off and lays on his bed, staring at the ceiling for who knows how long. After a while, he exhales and rubs the bridge of his nose. His body is exhausted, and so is his mind, but they're not shutting off like they're supposed to. He almost wishes he is back in his dorm room in Virginia, staying up to piece the puzzles of a case. He has dealt with mundane human crises for so long that coaxing the supernatural mojo back appears to be an impossibly draining affair.

When he glances back at Theo on the floor, he pauses as he notices it. There's a blank inked mark on Theo's nape: a tattoo that Stiles knows for sure he didn't have the last time they saw each other. He turns to his side to look closely at it.

The tattoo is of a circle interlaced with three interconnected ovals. It reminds him closely of Derek's triskelion tattoo. But unlike Derek's, Theo's mark gives him an ominous feeling.

Because Stiles is sure, it isn't an optical illusion when it glowed in the darkness of his room for a second.

~•~

#steo #steo fic #steo ficlet #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #stiles x theo #parallel universe au #in another life #part 2 #fics tag #well the christmas prompts may have been lost #lmao #but well I guess I'll just continue with this #omg this is going to be a disaster fic #i can just feel it lmao

33 notes · View notes

what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Leave No One Behind Ch 1: You Gotta Have A Plan

Co-Written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Chapter Summary: After returning from Sudan following their arrest, Sam and Ari go their separate ways…but Ari just can’t let things go. He needs a plan to break the refugees he left in the camp out. And he comes up with a plan so ridiculous that it just might work. That is, if he can pull together the right team.

Unfortunately he knows that the 2 people he probably needs and wants there the most, are going to be the toughest to convince. After all, they are siblings…

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.

Chapter Pairings: Ari Levinson x OFC Hannah Horowitz

A/N: Now, we believe from what research and reviews tell us, that RSDR takes place basically between 1979 and 1982 (the real Operation Brothers upon which it is based upon ran until 1984). To keep this as historically factual as possible, we have done all the research we can find on Mossad, the history of the Jewish people in the 40s through 80s…the rest is purely down to our imagination.

If anything is factually wrong, we mean no offence. Chalk it down to slight creative license and take this for what it is- a work of fiction.

Before you continue, we recommend you read this to introduce the ‘cast’- Leave No One Behind: Meet the Characters

Also Tags will be done by reblogs as Tumblr seems to, once again, have been taken over by Hydra and isn’t giving everyone notifications.

Leave No One Behind Masterlist Main Masterlist

Chapter Song: Across the Universe by the Beatles

“Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes, that call me on and on across the universe…”

March 1979

Ari Levinson was a man who very rarely liked to sit still. He’d been the same as a boy, always needing to be doing something. And right now, even in a dark, sweaty, smelly cell in Sudan he was no different. Using the bars in the roof that gave them the only light and air into the area, he was doing pull ups, counting his way up to 100. When he finished his reps he dropped down with a sigh and made his way over to sit by Sammy who was leaning against the wall.

Ari glanced over at his friend, his fellow agent who simply looked at him without saying a word, and then looked away, both of them glancing up as Kabede, their in-country contact so to speak, walked over and sat besides Sammy.

“I heard the guards talking.” he said softly in his thick, African accent as Ari sat, his arms hanging over his knees. “They think we are smugglers. We need to get out of here.”

“Mr. Guy Thomas.” one of the guards called. All 3 of them exchanged a look, before Ari stood up and made his way to the cell door.

“You called?” he asked.

“You, and your friends…” the guard said, gun slung over his shoulder “You come with me…”

They did as they were told and were ushered into a small room, where they were unceremoniously handed their gear and told they were free to go. Ari did nothing but smile at Sammy, who rolled his eyes, because it was a knowing joke between everyone who ever ran a mission with Ari that he could fall in pig shit and come out smelling like roses.

Ari fished a packet of cigarettes out of his back pack, along with his shades and slipped them onto his eyes. He slung his bag over his shoulder and walked out into the sun, lighting his cigarette as he went. He paused for a moment, looking at the man who was leaning against a blue car, watching him. He jerked his head and Ari stepped towards him.

“And you are?” Ari asked, eyeing him up.

“I'm the reason you're out of there.” The man said, pushing himself off the car. Ari exchanged a look with Sammy as the man continued “Walton Bowen, American.”

“No shit.” Sammy said, his eyes still on the man as Ari shook his hand.

“Yeah?” Walton looked at him before he moved to shake his hand too “Cultural attaché, the embassy in Khartoum.”

“Oh. Well, you must have your hands full, considering the flourishing cultural scene in Sudan.” Ari said, the sarcasm evident in his tone and Walton gave a little laugh.

“Not nearly as flourishing as you with your anthropology studies, I'm sure.” Walton said, his voice level but Ari could detect the note of disbelief he carried. “We got a call from DC, you gents had gotten yourselves into a bit of a pickle.”

As Ari kept his eyes on the man and his face straight, besides him Sammy pointed

“Is that our stuff in the back of your car?”

Ari looked at Sammy then round to the car as Walton nodded.

“Yes, it is. I'm sorry about the hasty packing…” he said, gesturing to the car “…but I know you have a flight in less than five hours to London.”

Ari snorted, shaking his head a little. Of course we do, damned it Ethan.

“Where are you off to after that, boys?” Walton continued.

Ari didn’t reply, instead he chuckled, and turned from the man, walking over to where Kabede was stood a few feet away.

“Looks like they're calling me back. Are you gonna be okay?” Ari asked

“Yes” Kabede assured him “I will bring more families.”

“We'll find a better way.” Ari nodded, giving the man a friendly embrace, patting him on the back before he turned around and walked back towards Walton and Sammy.

“Hope you got my toothbrush…” he said, not stopping as he passed them both and made his way to the car. “It’s new.”

After a few hours layover in London, they were called to a desk and given tickets for a flight back to Isreal for an hour later. Ari fell asleep before the taxi down the runway had even finished and awoke a few hours later, stretching and ordering himself a beer. Before much longer the plane began it’s descent into Ben Guiron Airport and Ari let out a sigh. He knew he should be glad to be home, but he wasn’t. He hated leaving a job half done. But he wouldn’t deny he was looking forward to a shower. He felt disgusting, looked disgusting, smelt disgusting. Thank fuck Ethan had the sense to book an entire row out for him and Sammy each.

They cleared customs easily and were met by a driver who waved them over to a car.

“Home?” The man asked Ari as he took his bags from him to take them to the trunk. .

“Office.” Ari corrected, as he wrenched open the passenger door of the car. “You coming?” he asked Sammy as he sat down.

“Nah. Nah, I'm going back home.” Sammy looked at him.

“What?” Ari said, frowning as he got back out, leaning on the roof of the car.

“Back to the clinic.” Sammy said with a small smile.

Ari looked around, before he shut the door and walked over to Sammy, his mouth open in surprise.

What the hell are you talking about?” he asked gently.

“I called Ethan back in London, got a message to Hannah. She’s picking me up.” Sammy said taking a deep breath “I'm done.”

Sammy moved to pull Ari into an embrace, which Ari returned, albeit it a little half- heartedly as he was still reeling from Sammy’s revelation.

“Why?” he asked, patting Sammy on the back.

“I love you, man.” Sammy said, pulling away “You're a lucky guy. But when the luck runs out, then... you gotta have a plan, and you never have one. So... I'm out. “

Sammy looked around.

“You're out?” Ari said flatly, his eyebrows raising.

“I'm out.”

“Sammy.” Ari said gently as Sam turned away. He paused and turned to face Ari again, smiling.

“Goodbye, my friend.”

Sam quickly walked away down towards the pick-up area outside the terminal, as Ari called his name again, a little louder, but he ignored him.

Ari sighed and looked upwards, wiping a hand over his face before he glanced at Sam’s retreating back just in time to see a flurry of dark, wavy hair rushing towards him. Ari continued to observe from a distance as Sammy hugged his sister back, her face pressed into the side of his neck, Sammy gently rubbing at her back. When he finally let her go, Ari finally got a look at her and he had to smile. The last time he had seen Hannah had been almost 3 years ago, at her husband Andy’s funeral and Ari was pleased to see she looked better than she had that day. Her hair was longer, her cheeks were fuller again, no longer hollow with grief. Her skin was darker, more tanned...she looked healthy, back to her vivacious self along with, he hoped, that spark that bounced in her deep blue eyes, Eyes he knew so well.

He had first met Hannah through Sammy when she was 17, and he was 24. He had liked her from the off, despite being 7 years older than her and there’d been a spark, there was no denying that. But for various reasons, despite a 3 month long sort of fling, it hadn’t worked out. He’d backed off, instead admiring her from afar, constantly telling himself he was too old and no good for her, and then he had met Sarah. Their relationship at first had been based on total, physical attraction and had been a total whirlwind. They had married later that same year after discovering Sarah was pregnant, Ari wanting to do the right thing by her. Their daughter Maya was born 7 months later and for the first 4 years, he had to admit he’d been happy.

Meanwhile, Hannah had started dating another one of their agents and friends, Andy Horowitz. They’d married too and then sadly mere months after they had married Andy had been killed on a mission they’d been running some 3 years ago, a mission Ari had been in charge of.

Hannah said she didn’t blame Ari, but he’d seen it written on every inch of her pretty face. She’d hardly been able to look him in the eyes since Andy’s death, and as a result he had made no effort to reach out in the 3 years since Andy’s funeral. Which he knew was a selfish, shitty thing to do on his behalf, as they’d all been so close, family close even, but Hannah had always worn her heart on her sleeve and he couldn’t face the turmoil and heartbreak she was emanating.

Sammy assured him she didn’t hold him at fault, not really and that she was just upset, compounded by the fact she hadn’t been there and was only hearing everything 2nd hand. But still, it did nothing to assuage Ari’s guilt. Andy’s life cut so tragically short, and Hannah left widowed at such a young age…

The driver’s voice shook Ari out of his thoughts, and when his eyes focussed again he realised he was staring at nothing. Hannah and Sammy both long gone. With a nod to the man he climbed back in the car and they set off for HQ.

**** "You're pissed." Sammy told his sister, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Hanna didn't answer. She stared at the license plate of the car right before them as if it was the magic combination to some sort of treasure chest. She was avoiding looking at her brother. Of course she was pissed, that was out of the question, but she didn't want to discuss that in the middle of the early evening exasperating traffic. Why was the way out of the airport always so crammed with cars?

Sammy turned to look at her and read the signs like an open book. White knuckles from the intensity with which her hands where holding the steering wheel, furrowed brow and a twitch of the mouth where she was biting the inside of her right cheek. He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You are pissed. I can tell, Hannah."

"No, I'm not" she replied trying to sound as convincing as possible and hit the car horn three times. "Oh, come on! We all have places to be!"

"Yes, you are. And honking the horn while in a traffic jam won't get you anywhere quicker, you know that?" Sammy said raising an eyebrow at her sudden outburst.

"No, it won't. But it will keep me from slapping you across your stupid face." she bit back, admitting her irritation.

"Ok." Sammy said preparing for what was about to come slouched on the passenger seat "What's on your mind?"

"Damnit, Sammy. You know full well what's on my mind. You know perfectly fucking well." she hissed without even bothering to look at him.

He sighed and nodded as an only answer. Avoiding his sister's gaze, he turned and looked through the passenger window.

"Yet, there you go again." she resumed after a minute, once she had steadied her voice and swallowed the lump in her throat. "Getting yourself arrested. You could have been killed right there on the spot! I just ...."

"Hey…" Sammy said gently rubbing her thigh "It’s ok. I'm ok, right?"

Hannah nodded and wiped a stray tear from her cheek. There were a few minutes of silence in the car as the traffic resumed and Sammy waited patiently for his sister to get herself together before speaking.

"I spoke to Ethan from London, told him I'm out." Sam said.

"What?" Hannah asked surprised looking at her brother before rapidly turning her eyes to the road ahead.

"That last mission... it was just... I'm done. Can't do it anymore." Sam fumbled with the words while he rubbed the scars on his right hand with his left one.

Hannah looked at her brother again, before she sighed, concern flooding her system.

"What happened Sammy?" she asked, her tone soft “It must be something bad to make you want to leave it all behind.”

"Nothing. Don't worry about it. It's just… I'm tired of all that shit and need to get out, that's all." Sam replied trying to convince his sister and, most importantly himself, it was the right decision.

The sight of that woman letting herself drown in the river had taken a toll on him. It haunted him at night and whenever he closed his eyes. He could have done more, he should have saved her, he should have found her under that muddy water and swum with her to safety. But he hadn't been able to and he didn't want to go into another mission where he would lose lives instead of saving them.

"So, what's the plan?" Hannah asked a moment later trying to snap her brother out from the place he seemed to be lost in.

"The plan is getting home, have a shower, eat something decent and sleep till the new full moon." Sam deadpanned with a faint smile.

"I’d also consider a haircut." Hanna quipped smiling at him. "That mop doesn't suit you, neither does the moustache!"

"Yeah, well. Not much you can do when you're down there and under for six weeks." Sam stated before he smiled at her "You, on the other hand, look great, Han"

"Well, that's what you get when you shower and wash your clothes. You stink." she said winking at him and he laughed.

"Seriously though, what are you gonna do? “ Hannah asked him after a moments pause “You gotta have a plan."

"That's exactly what I told Ari..." Sammy shrugged and Hannah’s head whipped once more to look at him.

"Ari?" she asked double checking her brother "Was Ari on the mission with you? Actually, don’t bother answering because of course he was..." she trailed off.

"That reckless, lucky son of a bitch who never seems to have a back-up plan." Sam said before lighting a cigarette. “He was there alright.”

"I'd say the man without a plan has some things very well planned." she mused while tapping the steering wheel with her fingers.

"Yeah, well, as I told him I wanna go back to the clinic. If that's ok with you, that is."

"Of course it is Sam. It's our clinic, remember? And we could do with your help, in fact, it would be a blessing. We've been very busy lately." she said excited by the prospect of having her brother with her again. "Mum will be thrilled to hear that.” “How is she?” Sam asked.

“She’s ok.” Hannah said “I’ve been trying to get her to take it easy, consider retiring but…you know what she’s like.” Sammy snorted “Stubborn, opinionated, always thinks she knows best…that’s where you get it from.” Hannah merely raised her eyebrow and smirked a little. “I dare you to tell her that on Sunday…” “Sunday?” “Yeah, she hasn't told you yet but you're coming for lunch." Hannah smirked as Sammy rolled his eyes, smiling fondly “And she won’t take no for an answer.”

***** “Ladies and gentlemen. This afternoon, historic documents concluding the Treaty of Peace between the Arab Republic of Egypt and the State of Israel will be signed…” Ari could hear the reporter on the news growing louder as he strode through the Mossad HQ towards Ethan’s office.

“Is he in?” he asked Ethan’s secretary, not bothering to wait for an answer.

“Wait, don't go in there…”

“Thanks.” he said, ignoring her as he pushed the door open, giving a small annoyed huff of a laugh as he tossed his back pack to his left where it landed with a thud. He then made his way over to the decanter of scotch on the shelves to the right of the room, Ethan not even bothering to look at him from where he was leaning against his desk, his own tumbler in hand, watching the TV, dressed in a crisp black suit and white shirt as always, his tie impeccably knotted.

“The Prime Minister is about to sign the most important peace accord in our lifetime and he can't enjoy it because of some remote tribe of our people getting massacred on a continent no one cares about.” Ethan said a little emotively, his British accent crisp as ever as he took a sip of his drink.

“Well, maybe you should let me do my job instead of pulling me out.” Ari said, picking up his drink and turning towards the couch at the side of the room.

“Your job includes getting arrested?” Ethan asked, as he stood up straight and turned off the TV. Ari sighed as he slumped on the couch, one leg bent with his foot resting on the low coffee table in front of him “Or is this just another by-product of you being reckless and totally out of control?” he looked at Ari for the first time since he had walked into the room.

“Sudan. My god, Ari…” Ethan snorted angrily, picking up his decanter to top up the glass. “An enemy country in a perpetual state of... fucked-up-ness. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that hiding refugees in a refugee camp was a pretty brilliant idea.” Ari said simply with no trace of irony, as he scratched at an itch on his side before necked his liquor.

“And how do you propose to get them out of there?” Ethan looked at him.

Ari sighed and placed the empty glass on the side next to the phone “Still working on that.”

“This job pays in migraines.” Ethan shook his head as he crossed the room and topped up Ari’s glass. “You look like shit.” he said, pointing to him with the hand that held the decanter which he placed on the coffee table.

“Thank you.” Ari replied “Smell like shit, too. I was under for six weeks.” he reached for the now once again full glass as Ethan sat on a chair opposite him.

“How's Sarah?” Ethan asked.

Ari looked down, his finger tapping on the rim of the glass before he placed it back on the side and slumped down on the sofa again, his eyes focussing downwards on his thigh as it bent upwards in front of him, his hand hooking underneath it.

“She left me.”

“Your life's a mess.” Ethan stated and Ari simply raised his eyebrows in agreement “Well, maybe this is a blessing in disguise, then.”

“What is?” Ari asked, as Ethan took a drink. “Are you taking me off this?”

“Exfil is going to come up with some alternative plans for the Ethiopians.” Ethan said as Ari tipped is head back with a frustrated sigh, his hands flying out to his side. “Then we'll discuss with the boss how best to move forward.”

“Ethan, don't do that.” Ari pleaded sitting forward “You know those guys are morons, they're gonna waste months on plans that aren't viable. Months that we don't have. You gotta send me back.”

“Go home, take a shower, spend some time with the family.”

“Ah Fuck!” Ari sighed, before his voice grew louder and he crossed his arms, taking on the tone and appearance of a sullen child “No.”

“No?” Ethan looked at him “It's done, Ari. You're not going anywhere.”

And that was that. Ethan wasn’t for turning. In the end Ari had stormed out of the office, his mood darkening by the second, and it didn’t get any better when he arrived home to find the place dark, empty and a message from Sarah on the answer phone telling him she’d taken Maya to her parents place.

Her parent’s place in fucking New Jersey

“Spend some time with the family…” Ethan’s words rang around his head as he slumped on the bed, beer in hand looking at the now empty side of the closet that had contained most of Sarah’s clothes.

Yeah, chance would be a fine thing.

**** Ari spent the following days on a semi-comatose state. He kept strict grooming and feeding habits, which was something he quite enjoyed after six weeks of not being able to give much thought to it. He also took care of the chores now that it was only him at the house and set up a work-out routine to keep his one-track mind occupied and allow himself to physically blow off some steam.

He was frustrated to say the least. Frustrated at being pulled out by Ethan, who wasn't even willing to reconsider his reinstatement for the time being. And frustrated on how, and it ached to admit, he missed his daughter. He had seen Maya last before leaving for Ethiopia and he had told her, and so had he thought at the time, he would come back home and spend all the time possible with her. But she wasn't there when he came back.

Surprisingly enough, he didn't miss Sarah or, at least, not in the way he should. He did miss spending time with his family or the feeling of having a family to get back to and Sarah was part of that family. And, to tell the truth, he had never been home in this house alone. And, though he was beginning to come to terms with the fact this was his life going forward, he wasn't sure if he liked it. But, on the other hand he was also relieved. Sarah and he had been strained and fighting for so long before he left for the mission that her leaving had almost been a relief. And, in a sense, he was glad she had done it before he was the one who had to suggest that maybe they needed to concede things weren't working between them because, frankly, Ari Levinson was a chicken shit when it came to stuff like that

But what Ari wasn't was cut out for the mundane, office life. A couple of weeks later his mind was in a state of turmoil. He took a trip out to New Jersey for a few weeks under Ethan’s instructions where he spent some quality time with Maya and had a very frank discussion with Sarah. The papers she had left him to sign upon his return from Ethiopia were legal documents which would enter them both into a legal period of 2 years separation and upon the conclusion therefore a Divorce would be mutually agreed. There was no way back for the pair of them, and he was relieved that she felt the same way and signed the papers in presence of an attorney who assured him this was the easiest, least messy way to go about things. Sarah had also agreed to return to Tel Aviv at some point as she conceded that keeping Maya at the other side of the ocean wasn’t fair to him or her. But when that would be, she never said.

All in all he wasn’t feeling great when he returned to HQ at the end of April especially when he was told that Exfil had yet to come up with any decent sort of plan. He told Ethan, once again, that they were fucking morons but was told to steer well clear. But Ari had never been one to stay out of things, or pay any attention to his boss when he thought he knew better. Day and night the idea of getting the refugees out of that Sudanese refugee camp was still haunting him. He had to come up with something and it had to be as soon as possible, before those Exfil idiots fucked it up completely. So after weighing up the situation for week or so more, he decided to get on with it off radar. He knew the best way to get Ethan to hear him out would be coming up with a fool-proof plan-something so absurd, far-fetched if you will, that no one would suspect they were smuggling Jewish refugees out of Ethiopia.

So he did it by stealth, getting on with his normal duties of paper work and communicating with other Intelligence Operatives across the globe playing the co-ordination role Ethan had dumped him in and putting the final touches on the last mission reports he had been doing at Mossad Head Quarters. His day job so to speak.

The night times, however, well, they were his own. And he used them to do a bit of research of his own.

He tried not to be spotted when he went to the archives department and asked the assistant there for a specific microfilm. Last thing he wanted was Ethan or one of his subordinates sniffing he was up to something. At least not before he could flesh his plan out in order to give a proper presentation to Ethan.

And finally, after an arduous period of research and countless sleepless nights it came to him, one warm night at the end of June. He was examining one map of the area on the computer when he noticed the sea. They could do it, the answer had to be in the sea. Ari felt a sudden surge of optimism and started digging into the different possibilities for a way out through sea instead of land and a feasible cover. His smile reached his eyes when he spotted just what he was looking for and a hunch told him to go for it.

It took a few days for him to pull everything together and get what he needed, and contact the people he needed. Which was why, early one July morning he was pacing the Comms room, rubbing his beard nervously, ironically dressed in the same clothes he had been in a few days prior when the idea had originally occurred to him. It was funny now, how he didn’t have Sarah pecking his head about his outfits he simply donned his preferred casual clothing to the office, something his single friends at work seemed to do a hell of a lot. Speaking of which, he was feeling stressed out after a heated argument with his estranged wife over the phone earlier that day about him seeing Maya. She had kept her side of the bargain, returning to Tel Aviv, but as a result he’d moved out of the house, renting a two bed apartment not too far from what had been their family home. He’d had regular access and visits to his daughter, which had been fantastic, but tonight he’d been due to take Maya out for dinner. However, Sarah had changed her mind at the last minute, something to do with her work shifts and it being a school night. When he had pointed out that she didn’t give a shit about her school when she took her over to New Jersey for the best part of a month she’d simply called him an asshole and put the phone down. Unable to concentrate on anything he’d gone for a run and returned to the office when it was dark and most of the people had gone, to find there was still no communication waiting for him, to let him know if his plan was going to work.

And then, finally the fax from the Sudanese Tourist Board arrived and he knew he had a great plan. Now, he had to sell it to Ethan and it couldn't wait, despite the ungodly hour…

“Ethan! I have an idea.” Ari said as he climbed the stairs to Ethan’s apartment, backpack over his shoulder, his arms laden with rolled up maps and papers.

“It’s four o'clock in the morning.” Ethan said exasperatedly.

“It's a really good idea.” Ari assured him as he continued up the stairs. Ethan simply stood back as he entered his apartment “Do you always sleep in a silk robe?” Ari asked, turning to look at him before he headed into the living room. Ethan paused for a moment before he followed him in, shutting the door behind him.

Ethan listened patiently as he explained his plan, and for the most part simply nodded. When Ari finished, Ethan leaned back and smiled softly at him, his fingers drumming on the map Ari had spread over the table.

“You know what Ari…” Ethan said, a smile on his face “This is so ludicrous…it might just work…but you’ll need a good team.”

Ari smirked and handed Ethan another piece of paper, watching as his boss scanned down the names of the Agents and former Agents he had identified.

“This…” Ethan looked at him, shaking his head “This is not a team, it’s a recipe for disaster!”

“They’re the best of the best…” Ari shrugged.

"But the Navons?” Ethan looked at Ari, shaking his head in disbelief “You mean you want both of them? Seriously after everything that’s-?”

"Oh, no, my bad…” Ari said, cutting him off and reaching over and scribbling something on the paper as Ethan let out a sigh of relief before he looked up, his eyes twinkling as Ethan let out a groan as he spotted the correction Ari had made to the name. “She’s a Horowitz now..."

**** It took them a week to get all the details fleshed out to a point where Ethan was happy to take it to his superiors. Ari would have done it that same morning he had gone knocking on Ethan’s door but his boss had insisted on details and plans…something Ari wasn’t all that bothered by, preferring to work in the spur of the moment. Still, Ethan had insisted that he wouldn’t be able to sell the idea without answering questions, and had lectured him in great detail on the 5Ps, or 6 Ps in this case…

Proper preparation prevents piss poor performance…

He had to admit, however, Ethan had been right. As he began to spell out his ideas and plans to Isaacs, the Mossad Chief, he found himself being able to speak confidently, not just because he had conviction in his idea, but because he never once found himself lacking the ability to explain.

“The majority are coming in from Gondar and Tigray right there…” Ari said, leaning over from his chair to point at the map which was spread out on the desk. “But we can't land our planes anywhere near there.”

“Why?” Isaacs asked, looking at Ari from where he sat in his chair.

“Derg brought in the Russians and Cubans. It's limiting everyone's mobility. The chance of landing a plane without being noticed is non-existent.” Ari explained “The only way to get a substantial number out is by sea.”

“Ethiopia's practically landlocked.” Isaacs said, leaning forward and gesturing at the map.

Ari nodded in agreement, his hand rubbing at his beard before he looked at Ethan who was sat next to him in the other chair. Ethan inclined his eyes at Isaacs, instructing Ari to continue, so he did.

“But Sudan isn't.”

Isaacs paused from looking at the map and then glanced at Ari to Ethan and then back again.

“Seriously?”

Ari nodded.

Isaacs leaned back. “Something tells me this is going to take a bit longer than a few hours to explain…”

Ethan smiled a little and nodded “You could say that, yes.” “Ok…” Isaacs sighed, reaching for his phone “Let me make a few calls. I need to get my advisors down here…and food.” So that’s what he did. Ari found himself repeating various points again and again to different people as they headed in with various files, paper, pens…and he was getting a little frustrated as the night started to draw in. But he kept calm, taking his lead from Ethan who jumped in whenever he could sense Ari was starting to lose his cool a little, and Ari was thankful for the fact his boss was there.

“How long does it take to get from Sudan to Sinai by boat?” Isaacs asked.

“It takes three days.” Ethan began “You can…” “Just a-- Hold on a sec.” Isaacs said as Ari dropped his hands to his hips, leaning back against the large cupboard he was stood in front of. “Even if this could work, you'd need a team of agents on the ground. A team with international background.” Ethan and Ari exchanged a look, and both nodded at Isaacs as he continued “How are you gonna keep our agents that long inside an enemy state?”

“This is where it gets really good.” Ethan said, nodding at Ari who pulled an aerial shot out of the pack of files he had brought with him. Ari handed it to Isaacs.

“Red Sea Diving Resort. It's a hotel built by an Italian company in the early '70s.” Ari explained as he walked back to his leaning post, arms folded. “Fifty kilometres north of Port Sudan. The Italian company abandoned it five years ago. Now the Sudanese government is looking to lease it, to boost tourism.”

The room fell silent as Isaacs looked at the photo, his expression perplexed which then morphed into surprise. He looked at Ari, how shifted a little uncomfortably, waiting for him to comment on the idea. Instead Isaacs stood up, and moved to his phone.

“Ask the Defence Minister if he can join us.” he said simply, and Ethan glanced at Ari, giving him a smile.

About twenty minutes later, the Defence Minister a Mr Henry Weiss joined them and listened carefully to what they had to say, Ari explaining once again what the outline of his plan was. It took him another hour, and it felt like he had been explaining this all day. Which, in reality, he had.

“Let me get this straight.” Weiss said, sitting on the edge of the desk as Isaacs sat in the chair behind hit, both hands behind his head as he was flanked by various other people from his agency, all of them watching Ari who was sat perched on another unit to Weiss’ right “You want Mossad, the Israeli intelligence service, to purchase an abandoned hotel from the Sudanese government.”

“Lease, but yeah.” Ari said, nodding, his hand curling around his chin and mouth in an L-shape.

“Abandoned because?”

“Because the area where it's located is lawless. It's controlled by the Hadandawa.” Ari said, and for the first time he started to feel a little less confident.

“By the who?” Weiss looked at him

“It's a Bedouin tribe.” Ari supplied.

“Translates, The Lion Clan” Tellem, one of the military agents stood around the room supplied “Known for cannibalizing their enemies.”

“No…” Ari quickly began to protest as Isaacs glanced at the military agent who had spoken. “That's...” he took a pause and looked at Ethan who shifted and stared at Ari. And Ari knew why, because he hadn’t told any of this to Ethan. “ No, that's... not anymore.” Ari folded his arms in front of him. “Now it's... human trafficking. -Girls to Jedda, that sort of thing—“

“This... just gets better and better.” Ethan looked at Ari.

“So, your idea, just to reiterate…” Weiss drew the attention back to him “Is to send a group of Jews to a Muslim country, to a place where they might get eaten by Bedouins, to run a fake hotel, in order to rescue a group of black Jews who might or might not survive a 1,000-kilometer walk across the desert, to be smuggled out to sea by Israeli Navy Seals to an Israeli ship.”

“Disguised as a petroleum service vessel, yeah.” Ari said, smiling slightly.

“That's ridiculous.” Tellem said with a sigh.

There was silence around the room. Ari looked up, and could take no read on anyone’s body language. He locked eyes with Ethan who gave him a sympathetic look and he let out a breath shaking his head.

Back to the drawing board.

“Is NATCOR still operational?” Weiss asked suddenly as Ari stood up.

“Yep” Isaacs replied, his eyes on Ari.

“What's NATCOR?” Ari frowned, hands on his hips.

“It's a shore company in Switzerland we use for large transactions.” Isaacs said simply

“How large?” Ari asked, not sure what this had to do with anything.

“Like leasing a hotel.” Isaacs said.

Well, shit!

With a small smile, one that was more from shock than victory he looked at Ethan who eyed him appraisingly.

“How long do you need?” Weiss asked and looked at Isaacs.

“I can pull the strings in NATCOR in a week or so but I need to know how much we need and when for.” Isaacs said, and once again all attention turned to Ari and Ethan.

“We’ll need a couple of months to pull the team together, get everything organised…leasing agreements that sort of thing…” Ethan said, looking at Ari

“Give me 3 months.” Ari nodded in agreement. “Maximum.”

*****

It turns out that the Sudanese Tourism Board play hard ball. 6 weeks it took. 6 fucking weeks to negotiate a price and a timescale. Originally they’d been willing to lease the Diving Resort from the middle of March until, after agreement of a slightly higher price, they had brought the date forward to January. That was still too far away for Ari’s liking, but as Ethan had reminded him if they missed even one cross on a t or a dot on an I, they were done for.

Finally, at the end of August, they had ironed out every crease they could see, and the confirmation that they had been accepted to hire the abandoned resort came through. A week later, at the start of September, Ari left Tel-Aviv again to start his recruiting spree. First stop, a Pan Am plane with destination Belize.

He was having a coffee and tapping some stray sugar grains on the table surface with his index finger's pad absent-mindedly when his plane was called. His mind went to Maya as he waited in line, boarding pass in hand. He’d spent a lot of time with her over the last week, deliberately, and he knew she understood why he didn’t live with them anymore, but she hadn’t understood why he was going to be going away again. And then, on the last day before he left she had been especially quiet and brooding. Ari had tried to make small conversation with her but had failed and had opted to explain to his daughter why he had to go, as best as he could. She still hadn't reacted as Ari expected and he had to admit defeat. The final blow had come when he had asked Maya about the drawing he was holding of her family, a drawing he was absent from, and she had told her father he wasn't in the picture because he was at work. He hadn’t mentioned it to Sarah, it simply wasn’t worth the hassle.

"You've got to be kidding me" Rachel Reiter said to Ari with a chuckle as she stopped at the end of his row, trolley before her "What are you doing on this flight?" she added impersonating the perfect flight attendant.

"I'd like some tomato juice, please." Ari ordered with a smile.

She served him his tomato juice and sat on the free seat next to him. Ari explained to her he had pulled some strings to find out which flight she would be working. Not that Rachel needed to know. She was perfectly aware of what Ari was capable of and how Mossad worked. Thus, she explained the mission she was on, having scanned the briefcase of a passenger, a PLO accountant.

Ari spent the following five minutes explaining briefly what the mission he was attempting to recruit her for consisted of.

"Ex is in stable asshole condition. Kids are perfect." Rachel told Ari when he asked about her family.

"And you're ok leaving them for an unknown amount of time?" he asked waiting for the confirmation she was in.

"If we don't do something no one will" was what Ari replied Rachel after she asked him to give her a good enough reason to enrol. And that was more than enough, as she smiled and nodded imperceptibly.

"Tell me one last thing." Rachel said standing up and brushing her skirt. "Who's in Belize?"

"Excuse me?" Ari asked with a poker face.

"I know you Ari. I've been running small missions on flights for the past 5 months, they must have told you. And yet you have chosen exactly this one to come talk to me?" she said whispering as she leaned to grab the tray where the now empty glass of tomato juice lay.

"Wait and see Rachel." he said with a broad smile. "I'll be in touch soon."

*******

It was hot, very hot when, a day later Ari sat at a table in a beach bar in Half Moon Caye waiting for Jake to finish his private lesson. Not exactly a diving one.

"What brings the great Ari Levinson all the way to Belize?" Jake Wolf greeted Ari from the door of the decompression tank, wearing nothing more than a dazzling smile.

"I have a unique mission to offer you." Ari told him "But I'm not gonna offer you anything until you cover yourself up" he joked watching as Jake approached him, arms open to give him a hug.

Jake ignored his friend’s request and after brazenly taking a cigarette out of Ari's packet sat on the chair facing him. Ari explained to Jake that he needed someone with expertise and diving skills for a mission related to what in Jake's words was a bloody genocide no one gives a shit about because it's in Africa.

So when Ari told him that his Prime Minister had decided to give a shit, he was convinced he had gained Jake's adventurous spirit and he would be on board.

An hour and some beers later, Ari had explained to Jake the mission in detail and they both had caught up on their lives.

"Be ready to be called in in about a month give or take." Ari told Jake who nodded.

"Why don't you stay a couple of days? Look around you. This is paradise, my friend." Jake said a big grin and open arms pointing at the white sand beach and tropical palm trees.

"I have a flight tomorrow morning." Ari had to refuse his friend’s offer, implying he had still places to be and people to recruit.

"Where to?" Jake asked knowingly.

"Amsterdam." Ari answered before puffing his cigarette. “At least that’s where my next victim was last time I checked…”

Jake just nodded, a faint glimmer of a smile showing, before saying "Then, the night is young. Let's make the most of it before you leave."

******

"You fucked up my lunch, man" Max Rose told Ari after lowering the gun he was pointing at his former mentor.

A mixture of relief and annoyance crossed Max’s face as he waited for Ari to give an explanation as to why was he sat in his arm chair, in the middle of his rented flat in Amsterdam, reading the fucking newspaper with a stupid grin on his stupid face.

"I have a mission for you." Ari said.

"Of course, you have" Max scoffed before hugging him. "But you're buying me lunch if you want me to listen to you."

And that's what they did. Ari knew if you had to win Max over, it had to be around food. After explaining the mission and what Max’s role would be, Ari had one last question and he had deliberately saved it for last when he knew Max would already be on board.

"Max, I need to know you're fine with all this because I need you to be focused. Are you ready to go back down there after Andy?"

"Absolutely." Max said without hesitating. But Ari could see a glint of sadness in his eyes.

"Good." Ari said sympathetically "Then I guess I'll contact you in a month or so." Ari added before he raised his glass to toast for the mission.

***** 4 days later, just over a week after leaving, Ari was back in Tel-Aviv, having saved the discussion he knew was going to be the hardest until last.

He sat in the waiting room of the Ethan Navon Memorial Clinic, a place in which he hadn’t been for easily over 5 years, and was eventually ushered into the Examination Room where the nurse popped a thermometer under his tongue as he sat on the trolley, waiting.

“How can I help you Mr…Aw, fuck me!” Sammy groaned as he looked at Ari who gave him a cheeky smile “What the fuck? What the fuck are you doing here?” he turned to his nurse “What the fuck is he doing here?”

“Hey, hey, just... Calm down.” Ari said gently, “I need to talk to you. Five minutes.”

Sammy tossed his file and glasses down on to the small equipment trolley and said something to his Nurse. She nodded, making a hasty exit and as Sammy went to close the door it stopped before he could shut it fully and swung fully open again, Hannah stepping into the room, frowning at her brother.

“Sammy? What's going on? I can hear you shouting all the way over in the other room? What’s the…” she trailed off as Sammy nodded towards Ari, her mouth falling open when she saw him “Fuck me…”

"Hey Hannah, how you doing?” Ari gave her a small smile. “You look great by the way."

And he meant it. Her hair was pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck and she was dressed in a simple pencil skirt and blouse, her white doctors coat open.

"What do you want Ari?" she asked softly.

“It's a nice clinic you got.” Ari said, taking the thermometer out of his mouth, ”Save a lot of lives here?

“No. But we don't take any lives either.” Hannah shrugged as Ari took a deep breath, steeping his hands together.

“I know how to get 'em out, Sammy.”

Sam scoffed

“I got a plan. And it's good.” Ari was almost whispering with excitement as he stood up off the bed.

“Yeah, that's...” Sam looked at his sister, laughing sarcastically “That's what you always say, until everything goes to shit.”

“Right, just hear me out. You don't like what I gotta say, I'm going.” Hannah and Sammy both exchanged a look as Ari began to pull the documents and details out of his rucksack, standing on the other side of the examination bench.

“Ari…” Hannah began as she stepped forwards, but Sam gently touched her arm and he moved towards Ari, shaking his head.

“Ari, Ari…no…”

“What? You don't wanna hear the plan?” Ari asked gently.

“Stop.” Sam instructed him.

“You don't wanna hear it? You'd rather be here than in the field?” Ari asked, disbelief in his tone as his voice grew louder.

“Shh!” Hannah instructed the pair of them as Sammy began packing the stuff back into Ari’s backpack for him.

“Why?” Ari pressed “You're the best field doctor I know.”

“I used to be.” Sam said gently “Back when I had two good hands.”

“Hey, both hands tied behind your back, you're still the best.” Ari said honestly. Sam paused and looked at him for a second, before Ari took a deep breath. “I need you on this one….” he looked over Sammy’s shoulder and locked eyes with Hannah “Both of you.”

She frowned a little, her arms unfolding and dropping to her hips as she studied him.

“I can't do it without you.” Ari finished, diverting his attention back to Sam. Hannah watched her brother who paused for a moment, before he turned and walked past her, opening the door. He glanced back at Ari and said, quite forcefully.

“No.”

Hanna’s gaze dropped to the floor as Ari gave a small sigh “Alright…” and gathered up his belongings “Okay…” She looked up at him as he walked past, and he gave her a pleading look which she met with a passive one of her own as he gave her a sad smile, before he walked out, Sam avoiding his gaze as he did so.

The two siblings stood in silence for a moment before Hannah met Sam’s eyes.

“Oh no…” Sam groaned “Seriously…” “Can it hurt to hear him out?” She asked gently.

“Are you serious? For fucks sake…”Sam groaned. “You are, aren’t you?”

Hannah shrugged. Sam eyed his sister again and then rolled his eyes and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Fine we’ll listen...” Sam said loudly, as he walked into the doorway, leaning out of it as Ari stopped and turned to face him “But only out of curiosity…because I'm still gonna say no.”

Both siblings ushered Ari to Sam's office, Hannah leading the way. She opened the door to let both men in.

Ari could smell a familiar scent of vanilla when he walked past Hannah into the room and couldn't help but smile softly at her but she was staring at her feet and didn't notice. He tried to make eye contact with her as she helped Sammy to clear the small round table at the right far corner of the office, but to no avail. He could only catch a glimpse of her long eyelashes where the locks that had fallen off her bun allowed him to.

It was only when Sam asked him to do what he had to do that she raised her head from the table and her big blue eyes looked directly at his, stopping there for a couple of seconds. A couple of seconds which Ari hoped had been enough to convey the message he wanted her to get. One second; I'm sorry. Another one; help me out in this.

A couple of seconds later her gaze went to the back pack that hanged from his left shoulder. Battered, colour faded by uncountable missions and frayed at the seams.

"Ever thought of changing that? It could use a bit of a wash?" Hannah asked, her head nodding towards the back pack as she crossed her arms over her chest.

He looked at it confused and when he returned his eyes to Hannah saw she was smiling.

"It's been with me through thick and thin. Couldn't get rid of it at this point." Ari replied returning the smile and placing the back pack on the table.

"All right, let's get this over with." Sammy urged Ari while he took a lot of documents, photographs and maps out.

Sam wasn't willing to spend any more second on pleasantries. He knew if he gave Ari the chance, he was bound to dive head first into whatever crazy plan he had come up with this time and the quicker he did that, the quicker he could tell him to piss off.

Thus, Ari spread the documents out and for the following 45 minutes he talked Sam and Hannah through his plan for the mission. He had been more thorough with details and careful with sensitive information as he knew Sam would be a harder nut to crack than Rachel, Jake or Max. Especially if he wanted Hannah in.

Both siblings remained silent during the explanation. Sharing a glance from time to time, but Ari was too excited and focused on trying to explain his plan well to read too much into it. When he finished he put his hands on his hips, blew a strand of hair that had fallen over his forehead and grinned with satisfaction, looking at them expectantly

Sammy, who had his arms crossed, moved a hand to his face rubbing his jaw and his eyes flicked a moment from the documents on the table to his sister. Hannah wasn’t looking at her brother, however, her attention was solely on the information Ari had set out.

"Is that a brochure for the hotel?" she asked as she took a brightly coloured and glossy document which was folded in the middle.

"Yup." he said popping the p.

"You've really given this plenty of thought." she said admiring the brochure as well as the rest of maps and planning documents scattered over the table.

"I have." Ari replied, his eyes pleading with her.

"So, just to be clear, you want us all to play house while smuggling refugees in and then out of fucking Sudan." Sam snorted.

"Basically, yes. And you sound like one of Isaacs' dogs." Ari protested.

Sam was about to bite back when Hannah grabbed his arm to cool him down.

"I think it's a brilliant plan." she said looking from Sam to Ari.

"Yeah, now he's the man with a plan." Sam scoffed and turned to look at her sister "And I don't care what you think, you're not going."

"Are you listening to yourself, Sam?" she said visibly annoyed at her brother’s overprotectiveness "You don't get to say what I am or am not doing. You hear me?"

Ari lowered his head and smiled at Hannah's outburst. She had always been an independent and opinionated girl and that had caught his attention right from the start. And she had turned into the determined and strong-willed gorgeous woman that stood there right in front of him, telling her older brother to basically fuck off. Ari couldn’t help but think how different she was from Sarah, who had become so clingy and demanding over the last few years.

"How do you even plan on getting all this up and running?" Sam asked Ari ignoring his sister.

"I said I’d have the details ironed out and a team assembled in 3 months and that was eight and a half weeks ago now, give or take” he said, looking at Sam then to Hannah “ I've got another three or so weeks to come up with covers for everyone and hand them out for memorizing. If everything goes to plan then we should be ready to deploy in January.”

Sam sighed and looked up at his sister who was busy studying the map, her sharp eyes roving over the details. Ari watched her for a second as she bit her lip before he looked back at Sam.

"I need you in this Sammy. I can't do it without you." he pleaded. Sam gave him a look, before he turned away shaking his head, clearly lost in his conflicting thoughts. Ari then switched his attention to Hannah. "And I need you too, Firefly.” At the use of his nickname for her she looked up, her eyes locking onto Ari’s a faint smile playing on her face as he held her gaze” I know I'm in no position to ask you to come with me. Not after what happened to Andy. But I really need a female doctor to take care of those refugee women."

Hannah visibly faltered at the mention of Andy. She hadn’t expected to hear his name, least of all from Ari's lips. He was really bringing the big guns out. But then again, persuasion tactics aside, it was a good plan and he was right about needing a woman to help out. Sammy had told her what had happened to that woman that had let herself drown on his last mission after they had found her bloodied and bruised by a tree after a vicious rape. It was common for women to be abused like that by the local authorities who persecuted them, and if there was something she could do to help, then Hannah already knew deep down that wouldn't be sitting the mission out. Andy wouldn't have done either and she was willing to bet Sam was already considering taking up Ari's offer. That fucking handsome bastard always got what he wanted. She would know.

"Which dumbasses have you got to agree to it so far?" Sammy asked, moving the discussion swiftly on. He had spotted his sister’s reaction to the mention of her late husband. She’d visibly wavered and Sammy had seen her right hand go straight to her necklace, where she wore her engagement ring and wedding band, an action she always undertook when she was nervous or the memory of Andy hit her. And it hadn’t gone unnoticed by Ari either.

"Jake Wolf, who you know from a few missions, Max and Rachel..." Ari offered, turning to Sam.

"Max?" Hannah asked still fiddling with her necklace, but a look of surprise now on her face “Max agreed?”

Ari nodded smiling at her. He knew she would be in when she heard the name of her best friend. That was the reason he hadn't mentioned the names of the rest of the team along with the explanation and ensuing conversation. It was an ace up his sleeve he hadn’t wanted to play until necessary. And Sammy, good old Sammy, had provided him with the opportunity on a silver plate. A simple list of names, strategically ordered, and the match point was his.

Hannah looked at her brother and gave him a smile, inclining her head slightly, an action Ari knew all too well to be her conceding her agreement. He managed to resist the urge to punch the air in victory, but didn’t fight the smirk that slid across his face as he turned to Sam and asked.

"Are you dumbass enough to jump in?"

#leave no one behind #ari levinson x ofc #ari levinson #red sea diving resort #red sea diving resort fan fic

92 notes · View notes

buirbaby · 3 years

Text

The Wardens: The Far East

Rating: M + Mature content, language, and violence

Masterlist | First | Next

"We need to do something about your accent and name," Benjen remarked amidst the preparations. His comrade didn't say much as to where she was from and he hadn't pushed the envelope. They were anomalies, people who shouldn't exist, and whatever past life Tabitha had experienced, she was wary of sharing it. He wondered if she had been a mercenary or a thief, maybe a harlot? No, none of those quite fit. Her mannerisms, while gruff, bespoke the regiment of a soldier--more finely tuned than the majority of his own men and subordinates on the Wall. She had been a soldier, he did not doubt this, and she had the skill in hand to hand combat to prove it, utilizing a grappling technique he'd never seen before. Foreign was the only thing he thought when put the pieces of Flores together.

"What, there's no one in Essos who sounds like me?" Tabitha groused, rolling her attire in a compact and methodical manner--yet another militaristic trait. She placed the garments into her saddle bags and gave him a wry, but tempered look.

"Perhaps," Benjen relinquished, he was not exceptionally well traveled. The idea of going to Pentos made him nervous. A queer, brilliantly colored tropical paradise. The polar opposite of the home he'd grown up in. Tabitha's features would be much less noticeable than his own, but her accent and name would draw questions once they managed to gain an audience with the Targaryens. "But do you have any idea of where that would be?"

Tabitha sucked her teeth. "Fine. What do you think would fit? I don't look like a northerner," she pointed out.

"You could be Dornish or Rhoynish," Benjen proposed. "What languages do you speak?"

"Probably none that are useful. The True Tongue--what Fang speaks, a little High Valyrian, and un idioma que nunca has escuchado , " (a language you have never heard) she spoke in the last eloquently, the slipping of the language foreign and lofty, but he'd heard it from sailors.

"You speak Rhoynish," he realized.

Tabitha blinked. "Wha-Oh, well... I suppose then it's been decided for me. I could be a Dornish bastard, my mother is from Rhoynar. Which means I'll need a new name, Tabitha isn't exactly common," she paused her work to contemplate a name, but drew a blank. "Tabris? Taliya?"

"It's the name you're going to have to go by," Benjen chuckled.

"Oh, you're laughing now as if you're going to go by Benjen Stark," Tabitha snorted, reminding him that the Targaryens most definitely would not look favorably upon his name. "Fortunately for you, you've got fire eyes now, but you still look a bit too Stark."

Scowling, he inquired, "What do you mean?"

"Grow your beard out and cut your hair shorter. You can't go by Benjen Stark. Daenerys is young and impressionable, we can win her over. Viserys on the other hand is a malicious brat who will spew poison into her ears. We cannot reveal your true name until we're established and Viserys is gone."

"Hm, I was assuming we were going to ride in on our griffins and give the girl wedding presents. That isn't the plan?" Benjen quipped, eliciting a frown from the woman.

"Never reveal your full hand," Tabitha sniffed. "We are going to be stopping in Braavos first. Hopefully, I can pick up the language a bit more before we get to Pentos. It's a bastardized version of High Valyrian, but it'll be useful either way. Dothraki more so if I could..." Pausing she narrowed her eyes at him again. "Stop evading the subject, Stark. You need to pick a name too. How well do you know Jorah Mormont?"

Sucking in air between his teeth, he obliged. "I know him enough. Saw him in Winterfell a few times when I was young, but not much since I joined the Watch. I know he was exiled for slave trade. He probably will not recognize me-"

"Unless you make it obvious," Tabitha interjected, jerking a finger in his direction. "I know how you Starks are and you better not glare openly at this man. As much as you distrust him, you can't be obvious about it."

Benjen suppressed a sigh, but knew that she was right. Jorah Mormont could get them killed if he discovered who he was. The flaming irises--more gold than orange--would make him unlike a Stark, but all it took was some well placed knowledge and a snarky jab to begin unraveling the aliases they were building. Tact had never been necessary in his line of work. He dealt in truths, honor, and by the posting he had. Now, he had none of that and if Tabitha was going by a bastard name, it was wise that he did as well. He might've been the better warrior, but Tabitha knew more about politics-a cursed game he'd never wanted to play.

"I'll think of a name," he grimaced, continuing to store his supplies. "What is your plan for gaining an audience with Magister Illyrio?"

"I'll send ravens in Braavos," Tabitha told him. "We'll spend a fortnight there so I can establish my contact in King's Landing. There's a good friend of Magister Illyrio who'd like more eyes and I think I have the right information to convince him to place a bet on us. The relics we're taking with us will sell for a high amount of coin, we'll be able to afford the necessary supplies and a gift for Daenerys after we depart for Pentos."

Thank the Old Gods that she had a plan, because his only one really had been arriving on griffin back and Torrhen wasn't large enough yet. "Who is this contact?"

Tabitha paused, lips curling in that same, wicked manner that sent a chill down his spine. The female looked exceptionally roguish and dangerous, the fire in her eyes dancing brightly. "Varys."

The Spider: a name he'd wished had not fallen from her lips or that he'd not asked at all. He had to trust Tabitha to be clever enough to fool the eunuch, but the rumors surrounding the man were abysmal. He was the keeper of secrets for a reason and the fact that the Spider had interest in the Targaryens to begin with spelled ill for the Starks. He was walking into a dragon's den without as much of a piece or armor or weapon to defend himself. Everything in his body rejected this idea, wishing for nothing more but to return to the simplicity of being First Ranger. But he could not. This second life came with a price and he had to play the game of thrones in order to save his family.

"Don't look so pale," Tabitha scolded, diverting her attention to the bags she'd finished packing. "I'll do my best to find a way to save your family. We have to start by changing Daenerys' perception on them... but your brother is a kinder man than King Robert. He is the one who speaks against assassinating her."

Those words were meant to be comforting, but Benjen was still anxious.

"I wish the king never asked Ned to go south," he muttered.

"Me too, but what we can do is earn a friend. Petyr Baelish is behind the fall of House Stark and his most staunch enemy is Varys."

"Why is that?"

"Baelish wants power. Varys wants what is best for the kingdom, regardless of who rules, as long as the common folk are treated justly. Anything we can feed Varys will help make him more powerful before Baelish's plans come to fruition will help the Starks. Varys likes the Starks," Tabitha explained, but sighed deeply afterward. "Unfortunately, your elder brother is naive and surrounded by enemies. He's also distrustful of Varys and more inclined toward Baelish, which is his first mistake. I'll make certain that mistake isn't repeated."

"How? We can't speak or write about the future."

"No, but I can write cryptically enough that all Varys will have to do is unwravel the riddles. He's clever."

"If Robert sits the throne now, why would he be looking toward the next monarch?"

"Because Robert is fat and a drunk. His health is failing. Joffrey and the Lannisters will inherit, which will begin the demise of Westeros. Having other options available is precedent, especially given the Crown's surmounting debt, circling lions, and the thin line they're riding with the favor of the commonfolk. That can all turn on a dime and Joffrey does not make a good king," Tabitha explained.

"Given what I saw at Winterfell, I'm not surprised."

"You have no idea what a tyrant he'll become. He's sick in the head," she tapped her brow. "Hopefully, we can avoid some of his wrath, but I doubt we'll be able to stop King Robert from dying."

"If we can save Ned and the girls-"

"I'll try," Tabitha insisted firmly. "But this all starts in Braavos. We need to do our part beside Daenerys to gain her favor."

Trying was all he could ask, considering he knew the true fate that awaited them all. For all that they knew, their own fate was not written in any visions or words that they'd witnessed. He did not fear for his own life, but for those he knew were going to be cut short if he failed. But to save some, wouldn't that come at the cost of others?

Benjen had never been to Braavos, but he had heard of the legendary Free City. Balerion had coasted far above the famed Titan of Braavos, bringing them out to a rural location miles outside the city to land unnoticed. The pair of griffins would remain out in the countryside until summoned. The larger seemed thankful not to be saddled with two adults, allowing for their supplies to be retrieved before he huffed and took off into the sky with a much lighter burden. No where he'd been had ever been as sprawling as Braavos. So choked full of buildings that trees were nonexistent, unless purposely planted in the more prestigious areas of the grey city. A plethora of languages were spoken between the canals, many of which he could not identify. Tabitha, now Taliya Sand, a traveling sellsword and linguist, picked out between the Braavosi and found a Rhonyish sailor to garner directions from.

The weather was not too hot, which he savored now, fully aware in Pentos it'd grow warmer and the Dothraki Sea would be unbearable. Wary eyes traced the streets, noticing the flamboyant colors that many bravos wore, proclaiming their profession lest any other swordsman wish to challenge them. Otherwise, most other locals dressed in muted tones of grey, purple, and dark blues. Songs floated like gondolas through the canals. Art and courtesanship prized greatly within every part of the city that they roamed. To him, it was florid, but not unbearably so. He'd trust a Braavosi before any southerner.

Within the Purple Harbor, the stretching market boasted magnificent goods ranging from Lyseni lace, desert gemstones, to Arbor Wine. There were few foreigners selling goods in this area, as only Braavosi ships were able to dock in this part of the harbor. However, Taliya made due, haggling over the rare treasures that had been preserved in the Roost. Shadowskins, golden chalices encrusted with garnets, antique daggers, fine armor that hadn't suited either of them. It had all been dead weight, things they could not carry forever, and the armor seemed to garner the most attention aside from the shadowskins. Benjen had no idea what they were saying, but the merchant before them was raving, tracing the finely hewn details and glancing up, trying to contain his delight as not to overpay for the work of art.

No sooner were their pockets heavy with Braavosi coin, did Taliya insist that they turn in for the night before darkness fell and they became open invitations for duels as they had swords buckled to their belts. They had passed a few fine establishments, but she took him aback by leaving the Purple Harbor and approaching the religious sector of the city. A large bridge led to another island, a temple of red stone looming before them. Upon the great square tower was an iron brazier as wide as the roof, containing a great fire.

To him, it was still difficult to acknowledge that his 'gods' had not saved him and that he was now in the service of the Lord of Light. A god he was not very familiar with and probably would have never cared for if not for the new life breathed within him. Part of him wished he'd died, resigning the simplicity and lack of responsibility as peace, but knew he'd not be able to save his kin had he not been given this chance.

The temple was grand, embellished with scones, braziers, and fire to emphasize the importance within the religion. It was not as decadent as any of the Septs, but was purposeful in its design. Red was an overarching theme, the priests and priestesses milling around dressed in crimson robes. Burning hearts were depicted on banners hanging from the walls, the sigil of the red god. A female paused, drinking them in, before a crisp smile broke across the plane of her features.

"Greetings," she knew they were not local, as evident by their faces.

"We seek lodgings while we are staying within the city," Taliya started, reaching toward the gloves that obscured her hands.

Benjen expected that the priestess might chuckle and direct them toward an inn. What temple would host strangers? Yet, the priestess paused, glancing between them, before watching as Taliya removed her glove and turned her palm over to reveal the Mark of the Warden. A burn emblazoned upon her left hand, just as Benjen had on his.

The priestess did not falter, but her smile broadened. "Yes, there are quarters we can afford to spare for such esteemed guests. The Lord of Light shines upon both of your faces, Wardens."

He was shocked, but why? The Lord of Light had brought them back as champions for his cause, why wouldn't those who served him know of the secret order? Returning her glove, Taliya gave a stout nod and followed closely behind the priestess.

"I must admit, I am surprised to see holy warriors. My name is Oresha and I am in your service for as long as you intend on staying," the priestess introduced, folding her hands into her sleeves as she led them through the halls and deeper into the enormous building as more braziers were lit for the evening fires.

"Then you will know that we cannot speak of our holy mission," Taliya rebuffed, not unkindly.

"As is the way," Oresha acknowledged, unbothered by this proclamation. "We know our duty to the swords of the Lord."

The main chamber led deeper into a monastery where the priests and priestesses dwelled, including those that were still in training. Night was an active period of time for the Red Temple, as prayers would be said as the shadows snuck in, whispering of the terrors that hid within them. Oresha turned a hall and entered an area with many doors, a few crimson garbed figures going in and out of rooms as they passed by. At the end of the hallway, Oresha unlocked a door, revealing a simple room with a set of dual beds. There was nothing ornate or remarkable about it. A fireplace, a brazier, a chest at the foot of each bed, and desks. It appeared to be intended for those living in the monastery and a roommate, but sufficed perfectly for the pair.

"Is there anything I can have sent to you while you settle in?" Oresha inquired.

"Books on Dothraki and High Valyrian," Taliya asserted immediately, putting her things down on the desk. "Parchment, ink... Do you have a rookery here?"

"Yes, of course."

"Very well, I'll require any ravens that fly to King's Landing and trusted contacts in the city that can deliver the letters."

"I shall send the requested materials with a meal to this room," Oresha complied. "I shall always need to send word to Volantis and the High Priest."

Taliya pursed her lips, but gave a nod. "Very well, as long as we are not made outside the walls of the temple."

"We are aware that the Wardens must work under discreet circumstances. You are the secret flames that weave the Lord's will, not heralds," Oresha retorted.

"Thank you, that will be all," Taliya closed the conversation and Oresha took her dismissal.

"How did you know that they'd take us in?" Benjen inquired after the door had shut and a few moments had passed from Oresha's departure.

"Fang," Taliya informed him. "He hinted that the Red Temples would be our greatest resource. Seems he was right. We can trust them. They're fanatics, incredibly devoted to the prophecy of Azor Ahai. With the amount of coin we were carrying too, even the nicest establishment in Braavos would have posed risk. We already drew a few eyes today."

"We could utilize the Iron Bank," Benjen suggested.

"Trust me, considering how much things were in the market, it'll be easy to spend a good portion on a wedding gift," Taliya snorted.

"And you're going to learn Dothraki and High Valyrian in a fortnight?" Benjen inquired, finally setting his belongings down, mildly amused by the woman's ambition.

"I'm going to learn as much as I can, unless you'd like to take that burden, Ben," she emphasized his name, shaking her head at his choice. "How many languages do you know?"

He'd chosen Ben River. It was a common first name and with his shorter hair, beard growing in, and golden eyes--he doubted even Jorah Mormont would connect the dots given the years since either had seen one another. He'd been little more than a boy playing at being a man when he'd seen Mormont. "Hm, you're rather clever with languages. I wouldn't wish to encroach upon your expertise."

"Oh no, you're going to learn," Taliya insisted haughtily. "Maybe not Rhoynish, but you're a stick in the mud if you don't at least understand the dialect of Valyrian most of Essos uses and Dothraki."

He chuckled at her decisiveness, but knew she was right. He didn't understand anyone and that made him anxious. Relying only on common was a severe disability, especially if they had to be clever. Better that people thought him a stupid Westerosi bastard and it turned out he spoke enough of the other languages to follow along. "Enlighten me, wise maester."

Taliya rolled her eyes, jerked out the chair to the desk, and sat down. Just as he was her mentor in swordsplay, she had subjects to school him on. Despite her typical lack of decorum (with him, at least), she was rather perceptive and cunning. Perhaps her harsh, serpentine personality hinted at this, but he originally thought the woman lacked poise. Obviously, he'd been wrong. She only lacked it when there was no need for a facade and between him, a fellow warden, she did not guard herself. He was thankful for that, uncertain how he would have handled his Wardenship is not for a companion who was polar in nature to him. The Lord of Light had intentionally paired them, each stronger in different fields, and somehow aware that they wouldn't be at one another's throats. Perhaps the fact that Taliya was a woman had a hand in his relaxed nature around her or her courage when facing down the Other.

Despite how much the woman could bark, she was true, a trait rarely witnessed in this world. People were fickle, oathbreakers, and more willing to protect their own hide than to buckle down and remain steadfast to a cause.

While a learned man, languages were complex. Over the simple dinner they had been provided, his mind spun as she tried to impress Dothraki on him first as she learned herself. Her own ramblings, she seemed to make sense of it, but he was stuck on the harsh annunciations. Valyrian, he'd heard a few words of before, and found that it was a bit easier to follow. Still, it would be a long time before he was fluent in either. He turned in relatively early, aching from their journey, while Taliya bowed over the desk and began writing letters.

Come morning, he was astonished to find her asleep at the desk, face pressed to the parchment and candle nothing but a stump of wax with no light. Throwing his leg over his bed, he crept up to see that she'd written numerous drafts and that her handwriting was quite atrocious. However, as he pulled out a sheet, his eyes coasted over the content that flowed like rivers of prose. Ambiguous and had nothing at all to do with their plight. How would Varys be able to understand them?

"Not the hibiscus-" Taliya muttered, jolting up, a piece of parchment sticking to her face as she moved. "Oh. Is it morning already?"

"You spent all night writing this?" Ben waved the work, unimpressed.

"Takes a while to create a code and cipher," Taliya groaned, rubbing her neck, peeling off the parchment from her face to reveal a mess of equations and a more deliberately spaced version of the letter he now held. "Look, this is the key which will be sent a few days after the first letter-" she turned the page over and showed him an alphanumeric mess, launching into an explanation on how certain letters within different words corresponded to others and could be utilized to spell out entirely different sentences. The process by which she broke it down was complex, but without the cipher, the letter would just appear to be a gilded exchange about traveling through Essos from a friend.

"And you think he'll be able to crack this without a full explanation from you?" Ben inquired thoughtfully, enthralled with her diligence to get this done immediately. He hadn't considered the letter being intercepted or read by another, but perhaps that was his own naivity of King's Landing and the inner workings of politics. Until they secured a better mode of communication with Varys, it was best to adhere to a code to draw no attention from anyone who might spy the letter before the master of whispers.

"We'll find out. If not, we're going to have a fun time trying to get into the wedding," she chuckled, standing up from her seat. "Shit, I really need to lay down though. Go out into the city if you'd like, but I need a couple of hours."

He wasn't really keen on the idea of going out into Braavos without a translator, but also knew there were few moments where either of them really got to be alone. Securing a small portion of Braavosi coins, he departed from the dormitory. Where the temple had been aflame with activity overnight, it had simmered down to a quiet lull as he passed a few priests and priestesses who gave curt bows of their head, but spoke no greetings. Word had spread like wildfire and yet, as requested, they were discreet.

Sunrise on the city illuminated the grey stone with a warm, amber haze, refracting off the water in the canals and basking the people. There was still a lot to take in, bustle, and queerly speaking people, but Ben tried to relax. Courtesans milled around openly, smiling at passing men, including himself. Some rode on ornate pleasure barges and unlike those in Westeros, were treated like nobility and with care. His eyes did not linger long, but Ben puzzled about the fact that he was no longer bound to his oaths as a man of the Night's Watch.

He had warned Jon Snow of speaking away his freedoms, including enjoying a woman, at such a young age. Ben knew what he had missed, especially after he'd learned of men going down into the Gift to purchase time with harlots to sate their thirst. There had been a time, before the Night's Watch, where he had known women and what he was giving away. But as a Stark, he'd known his place in protecting the kingdom and supporting his brother from the Wall. It was easier for Ned if Ben had no claim, nor had he ever yearned for the title as Warden of the North.

Whatever oaths he had to uphold with the Lord of Light, he suspected given the fact he did not recall them meant that there were no such clauses as refraining from giving in to carnal desires. Yet, as he espied the comely faces of the women dressed in vibrant silks, he felt nothing. Perhaps because he did not know them, lacking rapport or trust, a rather bad taste situating in the back of his throat at the idea of paying for services. But this was Braavos and while he had a disliking for it, the city revelled in their differences from his home.

Ben followed his nose, finding himself breakfast amongst the stands, freshly baked sweet bread and a hot tea to enjoy by the canals. The city still sprawled before him, beckoning to be explored. Despite his wariness for the urban setting, he curiousity got the better of him. He was a ranger, an explorer in his own right. Be this a foreign city, his legs took him through the bridged paths, between the islands, and amongst the shifting colors and faces. Few paid him heed aside from a few smiling escorts, but he'd simply continued onwards, careful to evade shady alleys and remained on the main roads.

A couple of hours turned into the better part of the afternoon, as he'd managed to get himself turned around, searching for the path back to the Red Temple. After finding someone who was willing to give him directions in common, he returned to find that Taliya was awake, the desk was void of the scattered parchment, and she was pawing through the language books. Her dedication was admirable, but he wondered how she could remain holed up in the stuffy room when there was so much to explore.

"Think the priests will mind if we use their courtyard for sparring?" Ben proposed wolfishly.

"We're Wardens, they'll let us do anything short of murdering them all if it's the Lord of Light's will," Taliya smirked.

They kept to the strict schedule of a fortnight in Braavos. As Taliya had jested, there was substance to the claim that the Red Priests would do anything for them. Part of Taliya's plan for Daenerys' wedding went hand in hand with R'hllor and claiming to be religious ambassadors and warriors entering into servitude on the blessed wedding-as was the will of their God. The temple parted with crimson garments for them, burnishing their armor, making certain they had plenty of coin and food for the journey to Pentos. He had not thought that he would have missed the little griffin during their separation, but as they left behind the watery city and trekked back out into the countryside where they'd started in Essos, he found his heart brimming with joy as the griffins touched down and reunited with them.

While Torrhen had grown a bit over the weeks, it was still not enough to ride him. Balerion groused, but in good nature, butting playfully into Taliya as she tried to secure the saddle bags to him, tail swishing around like a cat ready to play. Each passing moment brought them closer to the beginning of their first mission and to say that Ben was anxious was an understatement. What if Jorah recognized him? What if their invitation to the wedding was not solidified and they failed? His doubts and worries did not seem to affect his partner in the same manner. She was difficult to read and aloof, her pensive expression the only inkling that she might be worried about what Pentos had in store for them.

He had to trust in their mission, but his Dothraki was poor and his Valyrian rough. For all he knew, he'd be the fool on the Pentoshi promenade. Even the skills of his companion would not save him from his own ignorance. Gods, the north was so much less complex, even with the Others lurking north of the Wall.

They arrived in the city with a few days to spare before the wedding, allotting them time to get gifts and top of their supplies. Where Braavos had been grey, mild, and riddled with more canals than streets, Pentos was warm, made of many bricked buildings and walled estates akin to miniature castles, and filled with brightly hued residents. Westeros seemed bleak by comparison and Ben was sweltering in his thin doublet, armor, and trousers. While a warm, salty breeze often blew up from the port, the high walls of the golden city often denied them of the luxury of feeling its reprieve.

While the colors of the Wardens had been dark blue and grey, they traded the typical hues of their regal to that of the Lord of Light. Before dawn on the day of the wedding, Ben had settled his wardrobe and his attire. He'd spent the better part of the night polishing his cuirass, emblazoned with the heraldry of the Warden griffin on silvered steel. He did not possess a full suit, only the breastplate, thankful that it was light. The doublet beneath was provided by the temple in Braavos, a deep, garnet red that looked almost black, threads glistening in the sunlight.

His trousers were of a loose fit, as not to make him sweat excessively on the desert plains, though he knew there would be no avoiding it. He had not been crafted to be in Essos. He was a Stark, ice and iron, not heat and fire. The shiny black boots were finer than he would have typically chosen, accustomed to the sublime and mundane as a man of the Watch. What he wore now was a little 'much' for him. Taliya assured him that it was simple, but it still felt rather decadent.

He need only remind himself of the gem hues across the city to feel less excessive. After all, there were men who dyed their beards strange colors and forked them with oils.

Taliya was much more at home in the city than he was. Over the weeks her complexion had warmed to a rich olive, which complimented the tones she wore. That morning, the woman wore a pair of slitted harem pants in a deep, vibrant crimson. An ensemble of gold and cred sashes by her waist secured Fate to her hip, before a thick leather cuirass was fitted carefully over her torso, wrapped beneath sashes that matched the trousers, encompassing her collar and neck and fluttering behind her in scarves. While he knew she had gloves to meet the tight sleeves at her elbows, she had foregone them for the wedding, revealing intricate scrawlings of black and colored ink on her left arm.

Ben had never seen tattoos so ornate or detailed, leaving yet another layer of curiosities surrounded the woman. But as he gazed at her, he had no doubt that she was Dornish, wearing the sunset as she sat astride the dappled gelding that she'd purchased for their journey. Until the dragons were born, they could not introduce the griffins and had to have their own horses to accompany the Dothraki with. Each shuffle of the horse revealed the warm skin of her smooth legs and Ben felt himself watching a little longer than was polite. It was the first time he'd really seen more of the discreet Warden since the beginning of their partnership.

Both of their horses wore blankets with the flaming hearts of R'hllor, pressed to the flanks so that people knew they were embassies of the red god. The wedding was to be held outside of the city, the khalasar so enormous that the city was wary of what the festivities might do inside the walls, given their lack of military protection. Thus, it was to be conducted outside the golden walls and within a field where the Dothraki had made a temporary camp. Running through the lines of Dothraki he did remember, he prayed to any god that would listen that he wouldn't make a fool of himself.

Their trip out of the city and toward the allotted field paused when they noticed an elaborate poliquin gilded with so much golden paint that Benjen was quite certain it could've fed the entire north for a year during winter. Taliya spared him a glance, giving him a quick nod, before nudging her gelding forward to approach the throng of plump Unsullied that were carrying it. With a click, the shutter slipped open and within they could see the greasy face of a very fat man. The man from the visions: Illyrio Mopatis.

"Ah, you must be the swords of R'hllor," he greeted in a honey sweet voice, stroking his yellowed beard that was greasy enough to paint pictures on canvas.

"May the Lord of Light smile on you, Magister," Taliya replied courteously, a staunch difference from the woman he was acquainted with. Still this was not groveling, she spoke as a soldier might to an officer, cordial and polite. "I believe a mutual friend of ours told of our coming from Braavos."

"Yes, yes he did. I am quite surprised that the R'hllor would be so interested in this union," Illyrio simpered.

"The Lord of Light works in mysterious ways. We do not question his will," Ben broke in, earning a careful, but impressed glance from Taliya.

"Hm, indeed. There are not many Westerosi who follow the Lord of Light. Given your accent, my lady, you must be from Dorne."

"I am," she conceded simply, but her voice fell flat as she did not smile or lean into the flattering tone which the man spoke with. "And there are not many Westerosi on this side of the Narrow Sea, yet here we are. The paths in which we led to get here were but the will of the Lord... It seems as if it'll be a fine morning for a wedding."

"Tell me, my lady, have you ever been to a Dothraki wedding?" Illyrio inquired lightly.

" Vo, vosma anha shillolat anha tikh allayafi me ," (No, but I believe I will enjoy it) Taliya retorted, the magister's brows shooting up. "Sorry, my Dothraki is still a bit rough, but I believe it'll get better."

"Our friend said you were clever, but I was not aware you were a linguist," Illyrio remarked.

"I'm a bit more gifted in scholarly pursuits than my companion, but he could best me with a sword any day. Perhaps the Lord of Light was aware of this when he made his partners," Taliya concluded before drawing her horse a few paces away. "We shall reconvene with you at the wedding. The night is dark and full of terrors."

"Farewell," Illyrio watched as they departed, skirting past his poliquin and down the beaten path that led to the sprawling plains where a city's worth of Dothraki were dwelling.

"Shit, I need something to sniff, that man smelled awful-" Taliya complained, rubbing her nose as they broke into a small pocket of solitude. "Could you smell it? Even the perfume didn't hide his reek-"

"No, I wasn't close enough," Ben admitted thankfully. "Who knew you could be so well-mannered."

Her infamous temper flared, eyes narrowing at him, as she opened her mouth to lash at him like a viper, "A side of me you'll never have the luxury of knowing."

He barked a laugh. "If you were being polite to me, I'd suspect death was near and the Lord of Light tasked you with killing me."

"Is it that uncharacteristic? I can be nice when I choose to," Taliya grumbled, drawing in a shimmering gold scarf.

"No one here knows you, so to them, they'd be none the wiser," he pointed out.

"But you know," she gave him a sideways glance, a devilish light playing in her fiery eyes.

"I know," he agreed, tucking away a smirk. Months of being beside her, with only her company aside from the griffins (not to include Fang's sporadic appearances), he thought he knew Taliya well enough. Still, despite all that he knew, he knew little of her history or who she was.

Abruptly, the woman reigned in her horse and dropped from the saddle in a puff of dust. Bending down, she retrieved a dagger and began hacking up a shrub of multicolored flowers, assembling a bouquet with a throng of tall grass to tie it together.

"For the princess?" he puzzled, aware that they'd already purchased excellent gifts for the girl. What good would flowers do?

"Mhm," she got back on the saddle. "Would you believe me if I told you I was a gardener in my past life?"

Benjen chuckled, but then realized she was utterly serious. A gardener?

#game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #a song of ice and fire fanfic #asoiaf fanfiction #asoiaf fanfic #reincarnation insert #added lore #freeform #the ability to change the future but with a twist #BAMF female OC #benjen stark #buirbaby writes #the wardens

4 notes · View notes

kpop---scenarios · 4 years

Text

Vacation To Remember

Comissioned Request by: @bebedahlia! I hope you enjoy!

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 3.8k

Hoseok was tired. He was overworked, and expected to continue to write songs, produce them, record and have all the other members record their parts as well. As much as he loved being an idol, and did he ever love it, he needed a break. But he never took one. As much as he yearned for that break, that peace that came along with it, he could never bring himself to take the time off. He had always been worried about the disappointment. Not from the other members, or his agency, but from the fans. The ones who loved him and Monsta X so dearly, the ones who supported him throughout his journey to become an idol, the ones who he pushed himself for everyday. Those were the ones he didn't want to disappoint. He knew they never would be though. They wanted him to take breaks, focus on himself, keeping himself happy and make sure his mental health was okay but he couldn't force himself to book a flight anywhere. Not yet. He had never been pushed to his breaking point. But now he had been. It hadn't been anything big that pushed him over the edge. The pressure of everything needing to be done now, but done better than what he had, better than what anyone could imagine, and he didn't have that in him at this moment. So instead of focusing, staring at the sheet of music paper in front of him, he looked for the first flight he could find out of Seoul and fat far away. Norway? Perfect. Hoseok grins as he sees his flight is booked, leaving in a mere 3 hours. He needs to pack. Quickly, he runs to the dance practice room, knowing Shownu is guaranteed to be in there. Sure enough, he his. Hoseok explains to him he needs a few days to get away. He needs to clear his head and he'll be back in a week to finish everything for the album but he just can't concentrate at the moment. "Go man, we're all good here. Just keep in touch" Shownu says with a smile and a pat on Hoseok's back. He knew Shownu would understand, he always did. Making it back to the dorms, Hoseok begins rummaging through his closet, searching for his duffle bag. Once he finds it, he packs it with his clothes, all warm ones considering Norway is not the warmest place at the moment. When he is finally satisfied with the amount of clothes he has, he searches around his room, debating on whether or not there's anything else he wanted to bring. His eyes land on the laptop lying on his bed where he had left it this morning after getting frustrated with trying to make some beats. Did he bring it along and try to do some work? No. The whole point of this trip was for him to relax and that would never happen if he brought the computer. If he wanted to be holed up in a room, working he would have just stayed here. He needed to get out and do something without being worried about being reprimanded by his agency, or recognized but too many fans. Hoseok was giddy as he glided through the airport, his facemask on and his head down but a smile plastered on his face regardless if anyone could see it. He almost felt like a child on christmas, the first feeling when you wake up in the morning and you rush downstairs to see all your presents. This vacation was the best present he could have ever given himself. As Hoseok sat on the plane, he stared out the window dreaming about what he would do when he finally arrived at the Geilo Ski Resort. Would he hit the slopes first? Or maybe lounge by the fire and read a book? Hit the town to see what he could find? The possibilities are endless, and he had all week to do whatever he wanted. Both schedules, no moving from photoshoot to interview to recording studio. He was free and it was an amazing feeling. As the plane took off, Hoseok leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes for what felt like the first time in months. ** "No, Kris, I'm not fucking staying to work things out. I should have never given you this second chance" you shout at your now ex boyfriend for the second time. "I should have stayed away the first fucking time you cheated on me. I knew you would do it again and I'm so fucking stupid" "Come on baby, it won't happen again. I'm sorry" he groans, staring at you with puppy dog eyes. "You know, your pleas might actually work better if you didn't have your cock inside her" you spit, finishing packing your suitcase. You had come home to surprise your boyfriend, who you had just gotten back together with, with tickets for a trip to Geilo Ski Resort in Norway, a vacation for you both to get away, but now it was just you getting away. "I'll be back in a week, and I want you fucking gone" you say, scoffing at him one more time before slamming the door behind you. You couldn't wait to leave this place behind, even if it was for only a week. Although, you had thought about moving somewhere completely different, and maybe this trip would help you decide if you were ready for that. ** Hoseok rolls his suitcase through the front doors of the resort, his eyes roaming through the building. It wasn't as busy as he thought it would be but he was happy about that. Fewer people meant a smaller chance of him being recognized, that made him relax a little more. "Reservation for Shin Hoseok" he says to the receptionist with a small smile. "Alright, you'll be in room 214" she smiles, handing him his key. As Hoseok walks away, you walk up to the front desk with a half smile, half frown on your face. "Hi" you sigh. "Reservation for Y/N L/N" you say. "Ah yes, you will be in room 213" she smiles, sliding the key across the desk. "Thank you" you whisper before making your way up to your room. You had already made a plan on the plane when you arrived, you would put your things away and then go downstairs and hit the bar for a much needed drink.. or five. As you stepped into your room, you tossed your bag onto the bed. You grabbed your wallet and your key and pulled the door shut behind you, making your way back downstairs for your much needed reward for putting up with a shitty boyfriend. "Can I get two shots of tequila and a vodka and ginger ale please" you smile at the bartender. As you sit on a stool at the bar, you scan the room, looking to see if there is anything exciting happening. People watching had always been one of your favorite pastimes, and doing it in a different country was no exception. You noticed the usual things for a resort, a family with well behaved children, a family with the father over his head and the mother drinking a glass of wine while tuning everything out. A few men eyeing up the women in the room, and a few women who hoped they would be the one the men chose. As you scanned the room again, you accidently caught the eye of a man, who looked like he had just left a frat party, but was also far too old to currently belong to a frat. He was someone who clearly couldn't let go of his good old days, and now he was walking towards you. "Shit" you whisper under your breath, as you turn around to face the bar again. You quickly take both your shots before he approaches you, sitting on the stool beside you. "Whatcha drinking?" He asks with a smile his breath reeked of cigarettes and whiskey. "I'm good, thanks" you mumble, refusing to make eye contact. "Oh come on, don't be like that" he chuckles. "Another round for my friend here" he yells to the bartender. "I'm really good." You say again. But he ignores you. "So what's a pretty lady like you doing here by yourself?" He asks, scooting himself closer to you. "I'm not interested dude" you say, but the man unfortunately still doesn't get the hint. "Come on babe, just talk to me" he chuckles. Before you're able to yell at him, an arm slides across your shoulder, pulling you in tightly. "Everything okay here baby?" A husky voice asks. You turn your head to see the man who had been kind enough to help you, and you were blown away. He was probably one of the most attractive men you had ever seen in your life. His large build and muscles should be intimidating, but honestly, it just made you wet. "No love" you whisper. "He won't leave me alone" you pout. "Look dude, she said she's not interested. Back the fuck off" he snaps. The man who had been bugging you scoffs before muttering something about you being rude and then walking away. "Thank you.." you trail off, waiting for the man to introduce himself. "Hoseok." He smiles. "Thank you Hoseok" you smile. "I'm Y/N" you say introducing yourself. "No worries. You seemed uncomfortable, so I thought I'd help. Have a good night" he smiles. "Would you like to join me for a drink?" You ask. Hoseok smiles again as he nods his head, sitting now where the previous man had sat. "I'll just take a beer, whatever" Hoseok says to the bartender with a smile. "So Hoseok.. where are you from?" You ask. Five hours later, you and Hoseok are still at the bar, the conversation never stopping for a second. The moment one topic had finished, one of you had brought up a new one never leaving a lull in between. You had never had that with someone before. Your stomach hurt from laughing so hard, tears threatened to fall from your eyes with how much you had been smiling with him. Hoseok was like a breath of fresh air. Even though you had only known him for a short amount of time, you were already comfortable, more comfortable than when you had been with Kris for the first time for almost 5 years. As the night came to an end, Hoseok wanted so badly to kiss you. That was not something he ever did, or ever thought about doing but with you, all he wanted was to feel your lips on his. But not tonight. You were far too intoxicated and he would rather kiss you when you were sober. "What room are you in?" He chuckles as you try to stand. "213" you slur, your eyes closed. Hoseok gently lifts you into his arms, cradling you as he walks to the elevator to bring you up to your room. He opens your door with the key card you had been holding onto tightly in your hand. He gently tucks you into your bed, making sure to place some water and advil on your bedside table, along with a note telling you he is in the room across the hall and to knock if you needed anything. He leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead before walking out the door, but not before he heard you whisper a small 'thank you'. The next morning Hoseok is just relatively early. He enjoys a nice small breakfast before going out to the mountain and renting his snowboarding equipment. As he continues to go up the ski lift and down the hill, he can feel his worries and stresses and all negative energy leave his body. Despite only being there for a day, he already feels like a new man and he can't wait to see how he feels when the full week is up. Around 4pm, he finishes his last run of the day. Returning his equipment, he heads back to the resort to take a shower and find a place to go for dinner. As he walks towards his room, he notices you going to open your door. "Sleep well?" He asks, reaching for his key in his pocket. "Ah yes, hello Hoseok. I did, thank you for tucking me in" you say as you scrunch your face together, feeling rather ashamed of how much you drank. "No worries" he chuckles. "Listen, I was going to shower and then go get some dinner. Would you like to join me?" He asks, cocking his head to the side. Your heart skips a beat. "I'd love too. I'll go get ready" you smile. "I'll meet you downstairs around 6?" He suggests. "Sounds good." You say, trying to contain your squeals as you enter your room. ** You sit at a table in a nice restaurant with Hoseok, trying to drink your glass of wine but you can't. The two of you are like school girls as you giggle and laugh at the stories you tell eachother. Stories from each of your childhoods and up to now. As much fun as you're having, you can't help but feel like there is something Hoseok isn't telling you. "What is it?" You ask, taking a drink from your glass before setting it down and leaning partially across the table. "You're hiding something." Hoseok laughs awkwardly. "That noticeable?" He asks. You nod your head. What is it? Is he married? Engaged? Gay? "I.." he pauses. "I'm a singer. Famous in Korea and in other countries as well. I always get a little nervous because I never know if someone knows me and is using me or what" he admits. Oh. That wasn't nearly as bad as you thought. "Oh. I honestly had no idea. Tell me about it" you smile. Hoseok explains to you about his group, Monsta X, the members, his agency, their fans. And it all sounds fascinating but extremely tough. "That sounds amazing, but exhausting" you sigh. "It really is. Which is why I'm here. I needed to get away". He replies. "I get that. The getting away part." You say, taking another drink. "Why are you here?" He questions. "I was in a relationship for 5 years. He cheated, we broke up and then 6 months later we got back together after he begged me incessantly. So we had been back together for about a week and I came home to surprise him with this trip and he was fucking someone else.. in our bed. So I came by myself." You tell him as the memories of walking in on Kris again play through your head. "I'm sorry" Hoseok says. "You don't deserve that." "Thank you. So I told him he better be out by the time I get back. I was so stupid to think that he had changed" you say. The next few hours fly by. Hoseok pays the bill for dinner like the gentleman he is, and the two of you walk back to the resort with your arms linked, mostly because you had drank a little too much wine and the road was slippery. "Would you like to join me in the hottub?" You ask, as the two of you pass the vacant outdoor one outside the resort. "That sounds great. Let's go get changed." Hoseok smiles. "I'll be a few minutes, save me a seat" you say before closing your door to get your bathing suit on. Hoseok sits in the hottub, his head resting on the back as he looks up at the clear night sky. The stars are bursting, filling the sky with light. He sits up when he hears you approach the tub, you stand there with a robe on and a smile on your face. "Get in here, its cold" he says. You climb up the steps, and let your robe slide down your arms exposing your bikini. Hoseok's breath hitches as he watches the robe slide down over your curves, exposing your body that made him hard almost immediately. "Like what you see?" You laugh as you climb into the hot tub to sit beside him. "I do. Do I ever" he breathes. For a few minutes the two of you sit side by side, not saying a word or touching. "I want to kiss you" he says, turning his head to look at you. "Then kiss me" you whisper, now looking at him. Hoseok leans his head in closer to you, as you move into him. Your lips touch, gently before his hand comes up, moving around the back of your neck, pulling you into him. Turning your body, you move yourself to straddle Hoseok, feeling his erection pressing into you as you deepen the kiss while grinding yourself into him. Your hands move up and in throughout his hair as his hands slide down your body, before planting themselves on your ass, giving you a squeeze. Hoseok breaks the kiss, moving his lips to your neck instead, peppering kisses as you continue to grind your pussy on him, making his cock even harder. Before the two of you can go any further, you break apart quickly at the sound of laughter and chatter coming from around the corner. A group of people in their bathing suits coming to enjoy the hottub, the same one you almost got fucked in a few seconds ago. "Come on" Hoseok growls, grabbing your hand to help you from the tub. The two of you wrap yourselves in your towels, not caring about anything else and head back inside, rushing towards the elevator. You're both impatient as you wait for the elevator to ding, but when it does and the doors close, his lips are attached to you within seconds. His tongue slides in and out of your mouth as his hand reaches up, cupping your breast while a finger teases your already perky nipple. The elevator dings quickly on your floor, and Hoseok grabs your wrist again pulling you down the hallway to his room. He opens his door, pulling you inside and slamming it closed behind him. You stand in front of him, tearing your towel away from your body. Hoseok's eyes are trained on your body, wanting you desperately. You smirk as you reach behind you pulling the strings of your top to allow them to come undone and fall from your body to expose your breasts. Hoseok let's out a groan as he stares at your bare breasts. "You are so sexy" he groans, walking towards you to back you into the wall. "Mhm am I?" You smile. Hoseok leans in for a kiss but you deny him, instead you slide down the wall and onto your knees. You dig your fingertips into the waistband of his shorts, slowly pulling them down his body. Your mouth waters as his thick cock springs free from the confines of his shorts, his tip red and almost throbbing, the precum leaking from the tip. Moving your head in closer you lick his tip before putting him in your mouth. Hoseok groans at the feeling, throwing his head back in pleasure. Your tighten your mouth around his cock as you suck and pump him, his moans and groans making you enjoy this so much more. Your pussy is dripping at the thought of feeling him inside of you, stretching you out. When you finally can't take it any longer, you release his cock with a pop and stand back up to face him. "Please fuck me" you cry. "Are you sure?" He asks. You don't answer him. Instead you walk away, slip off your bottoms before crawling onto his bed on your hands and knees. You turn your head back to look at him. "Fuck me" you say again, giving your ass a small shake. Hoseok happily walks over to you, raising his hand to give you a smack on your ass before lining himself up with your dripping entrance. He spreads your legs even more with his knee as he thrusts himself inside of you, stretching you out like you knew he would. "Shit baby" he groans as he finally fully inserts himself inside of you. Hoseok slowly pulls himself out of you before gripping your hips, digging his fingertips into you before harshly thrusting himself back into you. "Your pussy feels so good around my cock" he moans. Hoseok's pace continues to quicken as his grip tightens on your hips, and continues to fuck you relentlessly. Hoseok moves one hand away from your hip and reaches down around to your front, pressing two fingers against your clit and beginning to rub. Hoseok moves his other arm to wrap around you from under your stomach making the two of you become closer. "Cum for me baby, cum all over my cock" he growls into your ear. Within a few seconds your orgasm explodes throughout your body, making you weak. "Fuck" you cry out, riding through your high. A few thrusts later, Hoseok pulls himself out of you, pumping his cock before cumming all over your back. Once he finishes, he runs to the bathroom to grab a cloth and wipe you down. "Stay the night?" Hoseok asks you with a tired smile on his face. Without even answering, you climb under the blankets to make yourself comfortable. The next few days you spent the entire time with Hoseok. He took you up the mountain to teach you how to snowboard, you wandered the city together, drank hot chocolate in front of the fire in the lobby, he also fingered you and made you came in front of the fire in the lobby. The time that you had spent together was the most amazing time you had ever had with anyone. You felt like Hoseok was someone who understood you even when you didn't seem to truly understand yourself, and you didn't want to let him go. The night before you were both due to leave, you lay in his bed curled up in his arms. "Come back to Korea with me" he says after a few minutes of silence. "You've said all week how theres nothing holding you back from going where you want, so come with me" You sit up, looking at him with a shocked face. "You'd really want that?" You question. "Of course. I've never felt happier than during this week with you." He smiles. "This was a vacation to remember, but I don't want our time together to end. So what do you say?" "I would love too" you smile. Hoseok excitedly plants a kiss on your lips before he wraps his large arms around you. Never in his life had he felt like this before, he felt like he could finally be happy and it was all thanks to you.

240 notes · View notes