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whump-me · 7 months

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Whumptober Day 31: Setbacks

This is a standalone story in my original Mind Games universe, a modern-day sci-fi/fantasy thriller setting about ordinary humans with superhuman abilities and the people who want to use or destroy them. Full description in my Whumptober masterpost, which is linked in my pinned post.

This story contains: recovery, aftermath of torture, emotional whump, suicide mentions, interrogation mentions

Words: 2300

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The bedroom where they had stuck him to rot—to recover, they kept correcting him—wasn’t even that big. Jonah knew rich people with closets bigger than this. He gripped the bedpost, tried to ignore the trembling in his legs, and took a deep breath.

One wall to the other. Only a few steps. He could do it. He had managed it yesterday.

He let go of the wall. Pain shot up his right leg. He gritted his teeth and breathed through it.

One step. He fought the urge to windmill his arms as he wobbled. Another step. Another.

Past the foot of the bed. Toward the beat-up dresser with the small stack of worn out paperbacks piled at one end. Probably everyone who had recovered in this room before him had read those same books, lying in bed and endlessly turning pages in a futile attempt to distract themselves from their weakness.

But he wouldn’t let himself be weak.

Another step. The bolt of pain was stronger this time. He closed his lips tightly on a cry of pain, refusing to let it escape.

Another step—and the pain stole his breath. It shot past his knee, up to his hip, and into his right side. He buckled like he had been stabbed. The sudden motion robbed him of his balance, and he toppled.

He clutched at the dresser, but wasn’t close enough to grab on. He landed hard on the floor with an undignified yelp. The rough carpet scraped at his palms.

Other half-healed injuries woke at the impact, stirring with a chorus of growls like a family of angry bears. When he tried to push himself up, their voices rose in warning. The pain locked up his muscles until he gave in and sank to the carpet again. He wouldn’t be getting up any time soon.

Damn it. He had done it yesterday. Why not today?

The door opened with a creak, because of course he couldn’t just marinate in his humiliation in peace. He looked up to see the round-faced, chipper volunteer he had grown to hate. Lauren, her name was. Lauren was relentlessly positive. Lauren insisted he was getting better every day, which clearly wasn’t the case. Lauren had clearly never endured any pain worse than a stubbed toe in her life.

“I don’t need help,” he said before she could offer him a hand. “Just give me a few minutes.”

“You may not need help, but that doesn’t mean you should have to go without it.” There was her bright smile, right on schedule. “It’s what I’m here for.” She held out her hand to him.

He weighed which would be the greater humiliation: taking her hand, or lying here at her feet while she extolled the benefits of thinking positive. He took her hand, gritting his teeth against the pain to come.

For someone so small, she was remarkably strong. She didn’t even wince as he braced himself against her arm with close to his full weight. She kept right on smiling.

“You worked yourself hard yesterday,” she said. “You should have stayed in bed today. You need the rest.”

“Like you know anything about it.” Embarrassment turned his voice sharp as she helped him to the bed one hobbling step at a time. “You’re not a doctor. You’re not even a nurse. No one here is. This isn’t a hospital.”

Her smile didn’t waver. “You’re right,” she said. “But I’ve helped plenty of people like you. People who are recovering from what PERI did to them. None of them have made a full recovery in days, or even weeks. You shouldn’t expect that of yourself, either.”

He sat heavily down on the side of the bed. He nearly wept in relief as the weight came off his injured leg. She saw it—he could tell she saw, because her face softened, like she was so goddamn proud of herself for helping him out of his own stupidity.

He scowled up at her. “Don’t put me in the category of the lifelong lab rats you rescue. I was only there for a couple of weeks. And only for interrogation. They never sent me down to the labs.”

She sat next to him, too close for his comfort. But then, anywhere in the same house would have been too close for his comfort. “Torture is its own kind of trauma,” she said gently. “Physical and mental. You shouldn’t minimize either one. Give yourself the time you need. Please.”

“And who says I need time? You? No one here knows what the fuck they’re doing.”

She still didn’t look the slightest bit angry. He wished she would. “We learned on the job,” she said. “Same as you. The only difference is, you fight PERI by rating their facilities and rescuing the Enhanced they capture, and we fight them by caring for the people you rescue.”

“Yeah, well, who says I know what I’m doing?” If he had, maybe that last mission wouldn’t have gone so wrong. Maybe he wouldn’t have ended up in their hands.

Maybe he wouldn’t have—

His brain skittered away from the last thought before he could complete it.

Her smile grew softer. She placed her hand palm-up on the mattress between them, like an offer. “Do you want to talk about it? About that mission—or anything else?”

He left her hand lying where it was. “I think I need a nap.” He didn’t. He was tired of being told to rest. But seeing as she was the one who kept telling him to take more naps, that would get her to leave if anything would.

From the look on her face, she didn’t buy it for an instant. But she still smiled at him as she nodded. “All right. I’ll be back in a couple of hours with your lunch. Or earlier, if you need me. All you have to do is call.” She nodded toward the intercom on the bedside table.

He had never once used the intercom. He never would.

When she was gone, he realized she hadn’t helped him lie back down. Probably trying to let him preserve a small piece of his dignity. He almost wished she had helped him without giving him a choice in the matter. He would never have accepted the help, but now, without it, it was up to him to grab his leg in both hands and heave it onto the bed. He gritted his teeth to hold in the screams.

And then he was back where he had started—lying in bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. He knew all those cracks by heart.

Was this what his life would be from now on? Bored and useless and in pain? Lauren kept telling him he would recover. Her and all the other volunteers. But what did they know? They weren’t doctors. They couldn’t risk taking him to a real doctor, someone who might actually know what they were doing, because PERI had eyes everywhere.

Yesterday, he had almost believed her when she had said he was getting better. Yesterday, he had crossed the room on his own, all the way to the far wall. Yesterday, the pain in his leg had almost been faint enough to ignore.

He had let her use that minor fluke to build up his hope. Now he felt like a sucker.

Lauren would probably tell him tomorrow would be better. Maybe it would, maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe there was no point to all this effort at all. Maybe he should just lie here in bed and let himself rot little by little, counting the cracks in the ceiling and pretending to read the dog-eared books.

Better yet, maybe he should just end this now.

Don’t you dare, came a familiar voice in his head.

This time, when his breath caught, it wasn’t from pain. A bright spark of a forgotten feeling lit in his chest. Something like happiness. Something like hope.

“You’re alive,” he breathed.

He couldn’t speak to Matthew inside his head like Matthew could speak to him. He wasn’t a telepath. But if he spoke aloud, it made his thoughts strong enough and clear enough that Matthew could hear them, even though Matthew was much better at sending thoughts than receiving.

Yes, I’m alive, Matthew answered. His mental voice held a slight chuckle, like it amused him that Jonah had ever doubted it.

“I thought I heard you when I first got out,” said Jonah. “But those first days were a blur. I barely remember any of it.” Mostly, all he remembered was the pain. “Afterward, when I could think a little more clearly, I thought I had imagined it.”

No, that was me, Matthew answered. I was there for you then. And I’m here for you now.

“Where? Where are you?” He had to be close, if he was in telepathic range. “When can I see you?”

When you’re better.

“I don’t know when that’s going to happen,” Jonah admitted. “Hell, I don’t know if that’s going to happen.”

It will, Matthew promised, as if he knew it for a fact. For some reason, that kind of confidence wasn’t as irritating coming from him as from Lauren.

“Can’t you come see me earlier?” Jonah asked. “They’ll let you in. I’m sure of it. You’re one of us.”

I can’t.

“Why not?” If he knew Matthew was coming, he wouldn’t even complain about lying in bed staring at the cracks until then. Hell, he’d even try to take that nap, just so he’d have enough energy to sit up and kiss him later.

I’ll explain later, said Matthew. Not yet. For now, just know you have something to look forward to. When you’re better, I’ll be there. So you need to rest, and you need to heal.

“And if I don’t get any better?”

None of that, Matthew said gently. Again, it didn’t sound obnoxious coming from him. Rest. Heal. Will you do it for me?

There was only one answer he could give. “Of course.”

I love you, Matthew said in a mental whisper.

“I love you too.” But the presence at the back of his mind had already vanished. Matthew was gone.

Jonah slammed a frustrated hand halfheartedly down on the mattress. “Why the big mystery? Just tell me where you are. Hell, just come see me. I’m not too weak to talk to you in person for a few minutes.”

Matthew couldn’t hear him anymore, and he knew it. But the lack of an answer still left him hollow inside.

He breathed out sharply through his teeth. “Fine,” he bit out. Fine. He would take that nap, even though he hates hated naps. He would lie in bed and count the cracks. He would keep trying to walk across the room, and try to listen to Lauren when she said a setback didn’t mean anything. Even though she didn’t know what she was talking about.

He would do it if it meant seeing Matthew again.

Especially after he had thought—

He squeezed his eyes shut until that last thought disappeared. He breathed slowly and rhythmically, trying to convince his own brain he was asleep, until the pretense became real.

“I love you too,” he repeated just before he drifted off.

Out in the hallway, Lauren eased the door shut the final crack. Her face was sober, but she didn’t cry. Early on in her time here, she might have. But in the past three years, she had watched enough tragedies play out that the tears no longer came easily, or at all. She had seen enough that she could keep up a constant stream of encouragement, and never let her smile waver. It used to feel impossible. Not anymore.

“Who was he talking to?” asked Cass, the new volunteer who had paused to listen.

“His husband,” Lauren said in a hushed voice, just in case Jonah was still awake and could hear. “The husband is how he got involved in fighting PERI. He was a telepath. PERI found him and took him to the labs. Jonah tracked down a team down somehow—he’s some kind of ex-military. He said he’d use all his skills to help them for the rest of his life if only they’d help him get Matthew out.”

“So this… Matthew… is here too, and they’re talking telepathically?” Cass asked. “Why not put them both in the same room? Wouldn’t it help their recovery?”

Lauren let out a long breath. “No. Because Matthew isn’t actually here. Jonah gave his team up under interrogation. Matthew hadn’t made it to us yet. PERI raided the safehouse where they were keeping him. None of them made it out. Jonah knows—PERI showed him the pictures. He told us when we first got him out. He was really out of it then.”

She looked toward the closed door. “I suspect that’s a big part of why his recovery keeps hitting setbacks. Some part of him knows that once he gets better, he’ll have to face the truth.”

Cass’s face creased in a frown. “This isn’t right. Someone should tell him.”

Lauren nodded. “And I will. But not yet. He’s a lot more fragile than he looks—and a lot more fragile than he thinks he is.” She stared at the door with a troubled frown of her own. “For now, I’ll let his brain gives him whatever he needs to recover.”

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Tagged: @cakeinthevoid @gala1981

Ask to be added or removed from my Whumptober 2023 taglist.

#whumptober2023 #no.31 #setbacks #oc #fic #suicide mention #my writing: whumptober 2023 #my writing: Mind Games #my writing

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fumblingmusings · 1 year

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How'd Eva view the Puritans and the general chaos of the 1600s in England? How would she react if America was found/raised in the New England Puritan colonies or in the interim absorbed their more radical teachings?

I would say read Chapters 1-3 of my fic hoho (silly plug). She was suspicious at first, and by the 1660, she held nothing but contempt for them. She likes to have fun at this point in her life. She likes to dance, to drink, to go horse-riding and shooting (arrows or guns), to play cards, to eat lots of rich and fancy foods and sweets, to grow her weird herb garden and cook with them in her weird bubbling cauldron (not suspicious...) and she doesn't see anything morally wrong with any of it. Nothing gets her hackles up then people getting in her private sphere and telling her what to do.

Alfred was found and brought to England before Jamestown and got very sick, so when Jamestown was properly settled, he was sent back with Evelyn intermittently spending time out there with him, or bringing him back to England for small periods too. She keeps him in Virginia for as long as she can.

When her Civil War begins, she gets her brother to go over and move Alfred to Maryland, which was experimenting with religious toleration for Catholics. After the wars end and Charles II has his bum on the throne, Evelyn is with Alfred always. No more weeks where she is in England and he in the colonies. She is glued to his side until the 1690s. They go to Providence (a tolerant colony for Protestants this time) or Philadelphia (Quaker haven), with the occasional stint in Williamsburg back in Virginia after Jamestown is abandoned.

As she was pretty much indisposed for the entirety of the Civil War and a good chunk of the Interregnum, she loses control over his wellbeing. Because the vast majority of the American colonies had declared for Charles II over Parliament save New England, and because she was locked up for a few years, Cromwell moved Alfred up to Boston. Alfred went willingly because the men who came to him said his mum had sent them, and at this time Alfred's only like five or six. He misses his mum, he'll and will do pretty much anything if he thinks it will make her happy or come home. He was away from her between 1639 and 1655. Over fifteen years without his mother. That's not good for a little one to not have a steady caretaker with them. I think it really messed him up, even more so cause he's stuck with puritans (worse - American puritans, the ones who thought Cromwell was being too tolerant).

Moving from St. Mary's to Boston would have been a shock to his system, but Alfred thought it was what his mum wanted, so he listened and tried to learn. It's why he's so confused by the end of the century because he thought she was the one who had ordered him to Massachusetts. Meanwhile, the thing that actually made her get up and fight her way out of gaol was being told Alfred had been moved.

Like, imagine being a parent and thinking, even though you miss your child, you know they're safe, maybe even with a family you trust, only to be told, no, actually, they're with the very people who you were trying to shield them from. Like she really did not give two shits that she had been whipped to death the previous week, she did care of the thought of Alfred being stripped of everything that made him warm and sweet and loving and made to carry a guilt of just being alive and sins that were not his.

She took that rusted nail, stabbed her guard, jumped in the moat and through to the river, stole a horse and rode down to Cornwall before the day was out. She books it to Falmouth, has a rough ride over the Atlantic, maybe falls overboard because docking is taking too long, and washes up on shore to get to Alfred. He runs right into her sopping wet arms and does not let go for days. She probably immediately keels over and dies for five minutes from exhaustion but shh don't tell Alfred that she's just napping.

Eva immediately punts them down to Providence and then it's let's never talk about that again. I think it takes a long time for Alfred to properly digest those years.

Evelyn does not like Puritans. She does not like Calvinism or her brother's Presbyterianism. She will not be hauled up in front of a congregation and lectured for playing cards and walking unaccompanied through town unmarried, nor will she listen to anything which states that her people are damned regardless of their actions and that any form of redemption is a fool's errand (projecting). She's too vain, and is a big believer in being left the fuck alone. What she does is between her and God. No middle man - Saint or Elder - required. So, she's certainly not Catholic anymore either.

She likes Quakers, does not mind Lutherans or Methodists, and is indifferent to Catholicism so long as she isn't made to be one, enough to let Matthew practice how he wants in private, and she herself is - rather reluctantly and mainly out of habit rather than genuine belief - High Church Anglican. She'd never admit it, but she likes the idolatry and superstition that reformers railed over. Makes it rather fun. From my understanding, I think most American churches, the dozens of splinter baptist/reformed/evangelical churches etc. tend to be low church? Or is that an oversimplification maybe. Probably. But I can see how, even to the modern day where maybe Alfred and Evelyn themselves aren't like particularly religious in their day to day lives, the impact of that split is still felt.

Nations and religiosity is an interesting topic, but I really only know so much about Anglo-Scottish religious development to comment on nationhood as a whole, and the world is so much bigger than two thirds of a damp island 🫡😅

The 'problem' with the English Reformation compared to many German states or across the border in Scotland is that it was so deeply led from the top down by a 'secular' monarch and nobility and not particularly by the actual clergy. Thomas Cranmer was put in place by those in power because he promised to get a task done for Henry (marriage annulment) and used the opportunity for his own ends. Meanwhile John Knox across the border was running around converting the Scottish nobility onside with one notable exception (the monarch, but to be fair she was like 14 and in France and we all know how well it went when she came back), if that distinction makes sense.

And I think, because the English Reformation was done for such selfish reasons primarily, then ecclesiastical ones second, things like the dissolution of the monasteries, the suppression of Cornish as a language, the taking over of the Common Land all spiral out from it. From Cornwall to Oxfordshire to Yorkshire to Norfolk to the Lake District, the people on the ground were protesting this hard only to be slaughtered by the thousands.

I think Evelyn would have exited her reformation incredibly jaded. Like of course the Catholic Church was (is) broken. What spilled out of it in England was equally so. I think Evelyn wanted to protect Alfred from that, but in many ways he was impacted by those splinters just as much as she was. It's just another one of her poisons which leaked out its container. English conflicts never have the courtesy to stay in England, it always has to be someone else's problem too. So guilt, mostly, to answer your question. She would blame others, of course, but also blame herself a lot. If she was just a better person, Alfred wouldn't have suffered needlessly.

#q&a #it's sort of related but the plaque at Norwich Castle commemorating Robert Kett & the rebellion I think has perfect wording - it says:#'this memorial was placed here by the citizens of Norwich in reparation & honour to a notable & courageous leader'#'in the long struggle of the common people of England to escape from a servile life into the freedom of just conditions'#like bruh we're *still* trying 500 years later #hetalia #hws england #fem!england #hws america #headcanon #fanfic ask #historical hetalia

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neonlights92 · 3 years

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RUN: Chapter VII (Epilogue.)

Jeon Jungkook hops from bed to bed, sleeping with as many beautiful, rich women as he can possibly find time for. He’s young and attractive, with a silver tongue that gets him practically anything he wants. So when his friend and boss, Kim Taehyung, tells him it’s time to settle down, Jungkook takes it pretty badly. And when he finds out that the woman he’s destined to marry is, in fact, his little sister’s best friend, he is less than impressed.

You have spent your entire life trying to forget the way you feel about Jeon Jungkook. So when you find out that Jungkook is to be your husband - and that he is anything but pleased about it - your world is thrown into chaos. How can you survive a loveless marriage with the man you are hopelessly in love with?

Hey friends! Enjoy the epilogue <3 Namjoonie next..

You were pissed.

Jungkook had promised you he wouldn’t be late tonight.

It was your one year anniversary - one whole year of being married to the love of your life - and you were meant to be celebrating at a fancy restaurant with champagne and good food.

You’d gotten all dressed up - squeezed yourself into some ridiculous contraption of a dress - just for him, and now it looked like you were going to miss your booking.

Eight o’clock passed…

Then eight-thirty…

Then nine…

By the time your husband finally decided to make an appearance it was more than an hour passed your reservation time. You’d taken off your dress - kicked off your heels - and made a move on your makeup when the door to your bedroom clicked open.

“Hi Angel…”

Jungkook’s sheepish tone greeted - and you chose not to answer - instead glaring at his reflection in your vanity mirror.

“I know, I know I’m late,” He’s pulled his tie and blazer off, the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled up to his forearms. You chose not to comment on the suspiciously red coloured stains peppering his collar.

“Happy anniversary to us, I guess.” Your own voice was sharp and angry - in the year you’d been married to Jungkook he had made you feel special and loved - but that didn’t mean he still didn’t fuck up.

“I’m sorry baby,” He moved towards you quickly, and you stood turning to face him, “It was - y’know… God. It’s Bangtan.” The desperation on his face pulled at your heart strings.

You knew your husband’s job was important - you knew that as a member of the Special Seven - as Bangtan’s shadow he had more responsibilities than he would probably ever tell you.

And you knew that you wouldn’t be able to stay mad at him for long.

But still. It was meant to be a special night for the two of you. An acknowledgement of everything you’d been through together.

An acknowledgement of your love for one another.

You couldn’t help that you were disappointed.

“It’s alright,” You shrugged, “It’s part of the package, right?”

He sighed heavily and reached up to push some of your hair out of your face, “I hate disappointing you.” His tone was tender and a little more of your anger fizzled out, “I love you so much Angel. I always want to be with you - I always want to make you happy. But I’m not always very good at it, huh?”

You chose not to say anything - slipping your bottom lip between your teeth and staring into the eyes of the man who had changed your life.

God. Your heart swelled to nearly three times it’s size at the look on his face.

Such reverence and adoration - like you were a work of art.

He always made you feel special, like that.

“I’m sorry baby,” His voice was sincere, “I really am. I know tonight was meant to be special…. God. What kind of husband leaves their wife waiting for them on their anniversary?”

He laughed without humour, and you felt a stab of guilt.

“It’s okay Jungkook,” You licked your bottom lip and shrugged, “We’ll celebrate another time.”

He touched your face gently and frowned, “I know you’re disappointed… And you have every right to be, Y/N. Tonight should’ve been about us.”

You sighed heavily, “What kept you out so late?”

His eyes darkened and you noticed for the first time how tired he seemed. He’d been out all day - and if the blood on his shirt was any indicator it hadn’t been easy.

“Namjoon.” He answered hoarsely, “He barely comes out on missions with us anymore. Barely wants to be around any of us…”

You felt a stab of guilt.

Since the night you’d been kidnapped almost four months ago, Kim Namjoon had turned into a shell of his former self. You knew you couldn’t have done anything - you were just as much a victim of Sana’s brutality as he was - but you still felt awful.

“What happened?”

“We tried to help him… Lord knows we’re all emotionally constipated. But Jimin thought it might be nice to take him out for lunch. So we did. And then…” Jungkook shook his head, “Namjoon cut himself with his steak knife. He hasn’t gotten used to his prosthetics yet.”

“The blood?” He clicked his tongue, “He was sitting beside me.”

You instantly felt terrible. You moved to wrap your arms around your husband, pulling him down for a fierce kiss.

“I’m sorry baby,” You whispered against his mouth, “I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head and frowned, “No stop - don’t. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t take you out for anniversary meals like normal couples. I’m sorry I come home with blood on my shirt -”

“It’s okay Jungkookie.” You pressed a hand to his cheek and he smiled softly at the nickname he’d begrudgingly accepted, “I know who you are - I know the world we live in. I accept it. I accept you. Is it annoying? Of course. But I won’t give up on us. Ever.”

He leaned into your touch and kissed your palm, “I love you baby.”

“Me too.”

“Next time though, text me alright?” You pulled a face, “I wouldn’t have bothered getting dressed up.”

He nodded and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I will Angel.”

He spent the rest of the evening showing you just how sorry he was, and how much he absolutely adored you.

Needless to say, it wasn’t the worst way to spend an anniversary.

“I have something to tell you.” Nayeon had shown up not five minutes ago, with a promise that you had to sit down and listen to her.

You’d obliged of course - she was your best friend after all.

But her confession had knocked the air out of you.

“I’m getting married.”

She was grinning from ear to ear. You almost dropped the cup of tea you were drinking.

“What?”

“I’m getting married.” She didn’t seem upset, “That’s why I came round.”

“To who?”

Her smile widened, “Song Mino.”

“Oh!” You mirrored her expression, “Song Mino. He’s… Nice.”

“And hot.”

Your face flushed and you nudged Nayeon playfully, “Stop it.”

“I’m happy.” She told you honestly, “I might not know him very well but he seems like a decent guy. And like I said… Hot.” You laughed this time at your friend’s unabashed appreciation of her husband-to-be and clicked your tongue, “Well if you’re happy sweetie, then so am I.”

“My dad told me last night. Mino’s father approves - so does Taehyung….” Her eyes flitted to yours guiltily and immediately you realised what this was.

A setup.

“You want me to tell Jungkook.”

Her lips stretched into a thin line. She grimaced.

“Yes.”

“Why can’t you tell him?”

She frowned deeply, “Because Jungkook’s hated Song Mino ever since they were kids and he stole Jungkook’s first girlfriend.”

“Your brother is not that petty.”

“Yes he is.” She raised a brow and scoffed, “Don’t tell me you don’t know that about him.”

You bit back a laugh at the thought of Jungkook holding a grudge for as long as he apparently had with Mino. Then you frowned. Tonight was meant to be a different kind of surprise for your husband.

“I also had some big news for Jungkook tonight. I was going to wait to tell you but since you’re already here….”

For a brief moment Nayeon seemed confused by what you’d said before her eyes widened and she shot out of her seat. She moved towards you like you were a glass of water and she hadn’t drunk in a week.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” She pulled you in for a hug, “You’re pregnant aren’t you? Oh my God! How far along?”

You laughed at your friend, “I only found out this morning. We’ve been trying for a couple of months… But I’ve only missed one period.”

Nayeon’s eyes were sparkling with tears and you were sure your own weren’t too far off, “Oh my god! Don’t worry about telling him about the wedding. I’ll do that sweetie. You just worry about telling my brother he’s going to be a dad!”

A loud thud caught both your attention and you turned sharply to find the brother in question - your husband - staring at you both in shock.

“Wait… What?”

Jungkook’s eyes flitted between yours and his sister’s. He blinked slowly, as if slotting everything into place.

Nayeon pulled away from you quickly and shot you an apologetic look.

“Surprise?” She said to her brother with a weak smile before grabbing her things and making a nervous beeline for the exit.

Nayeon mouthed “I’m sorry” to you as she disappeared and you had to stop yourself from laughing at the entire situation. Of course it would all happen like this.

“Was she… Was that…”

You stood quickly and moved towards your husband, cupping his face in your hands softly. Your eyes roved his his features carefully, looking for any sign of apprehension. But all you saw was surprise… And joy.

“I’m going to be a dad?” He whispered, eyes wide, “For real?”

“For real.” You smiled up at him and pressed a kiss to his lips, “You’re going to be the best dad.”

He broke out into a wide grin and bundled you up in a hug, raining his own kisses down across your face.

“Oh my god Angel. We’re going to be parents. Oh my God!”

You giggled at his reaction and squealed when he lifted you off your feet.

“Pregnant wife.” You warned him, and he put you down quickly, patting your head and shoulders to check for signs of injury.

“Oh my god. Pregnant wife,” His smile was dazzling, “I love you so much Angel.”

“I love you too Jungkookie.”

You had spent so long running from your feelings for Jungkook. And he’d done the same.

Thank God you finally decided to stop and rest.

Things would never be perfect - but you were happy. And so was he.

And that was all that really mattered to you.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook #run #mafia au #bts #romance #arranged marriage au #kpop x reader

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tom-holland-parker · 3 years

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Lets get Married

Summary: On a class trip to Vegas, Peter is determined to make this trip a memorable one, even if it means doing something crazy.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Word count: 2911

Masterlist

Note: If you’ve never heard Lets get married by bleachers you are missing out.

Taking a bunch of 17/18 year olds to vegas probably wasn't the best idea. Between Flash's constant suggestions on going to a strip club and being stuck on a crowded bus in 90 degree weather, it was already turning out to be terrible.

"Well someone doesn't look too happy" Peter joked as you rested your head on his shoulder. You could feel a headache forming in your head and the heat was only making things worse. "If Flash doesn't stop talking I'm going to stab him" you groaned trying to block out his loud voice.

Peter chuckled, giving you a kiss on your forehead, "sorry to burst your bubble but it's my job as Spiderman to make sure you don't do that"

You rolled your eyes, "but it's your job as Peter AKA my boyfriend to let me get away with it"

"You do realize you're joking about murder" Mj interrupt as she poked her head above her seat in front of you. "I know you're thinking the same thing Mj". She shrugged before returning to the book.

"I’m very glad we finally got a peaceful field trip I don’t think I can handle another Europe or Washington" You joked looking up at Peter. He chuckled, “Don’t jinx it. I don’t want any sort of trouble to happen”

"Well we could always cause some trouble" you smirked, "I've been researching some casinos"

"Since when do you know how to gamble" He laughed. "I'm Tony Stark's daughter doing risky stuff is in my blood. Plus my dad left me with his credit card" you opened your wallet showing Peter the shiny black amex that was tucked in the pocket.

“I don’t know about this,” He said nervously. You scoffed, “You’re telling me that I made all of us get fake IDs and you’re not even going to let me gamble”

Peter rolled his eyes, remembering the exact day you were talking about. It was almost a month ago when you tricked him and your friends into taking photos that they thought were for the yearbook but turned out to be fake IDs that you needed to get into a party. “I never wanted that fake ID”

“Yeah but you’re beautiful girlfriend got you one anyway” You leaned over placing a soft kiss on his neck, “Please baby let have some fun. You know what they say What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas”

"If you guys are planning on sneaking out, count me in" Mj interrupted, not bothering to wait for a reply before ducking her head back over the seat.

Peter sighed as he shook his head, "Fine but only because Ned has been studying the art of poker for weeks". He pointed to the row next to you where Ned sat reading The Poker Players Bible

“He’s learning poker from a book?” You shook your head in amusement, “He’s gonna lose”

Peter chuckled, “Have some faith in him. I think he’d make an excellent poker player”. You rolled your eyes, glancing at Ned again before looking back at Peter.

"Wanna make a bet?" You smirked sitting up from your slouched position. Peter smiled and nodded. "We'll let Ned play three games of poker. If he wins at least twice I'll do whatever you want but is he loses twice then you have to do whatever I want"

He hesitated trying to figure out whether or not you were joking. He rolled his eyes when he realized you were serious, "deal". He shook your hand, "I need to talk to Ned''. You rolled your eyes and put on your headphones as Peter got up and walked to the row besides you.

You didn't notice but Peter had been nervous ever since the plane had landed in Vegas. He knew you'd always wanted to come here and he wanted to make your first trip here a memorable one. "Hey Ned" he whispered, glancing towards you to make sure you weren't paying attention, "I need your help"

"I thought you said you wouldn't have to do Spiderman things on this trip" he replied in a worried tone.

Peter shook his head, "no it's not that" he reassured, "Y/N and Mj are going to come with us tonight to the Casino, but I've made a bet with Y/N and I need you to win two of three poker games tonight"

Ned smiled, "don't worry I've got this I spent the whole plane ride playing in small online competitions and I've won a few games so I'm pretty much a pro"

"great" Peter chuckled nervously, "I'm just nervous. I still don't know what I'm going to do to make this trip memorable for her" he glanced at you watching as you stared out the window.

"Why don't you just cross out number 4 on her bucket list" Ned said as he looked at his book again.

"What are you talking about?" Peter questioned. Ned sighed putting down his book again, "do you remember last summer when we all hung out at her place and she stole a bottle of her dads tequila and she started talking about her bucket list"

Peter nodded waiting for Ned to explain, "well number 4 was get married in Vegas even if it's just a joke"

A burst of laughter exploded from Peter, "are you insane? I can't do that. Her father will kill me" he whispered trying to avoid the strange looks he was getting from his sudden outburst.

"Oh come on I'm sure he'll find it funny" Ned smiled.

Peter nodded, “Ok yeah I’m gonna do it. I'm gonna marry her”. Ned chuckled, "Great. Now I need to study or else you’re going to lose this bet” He returned back to his book as Peter, who was now lost in his thoughts returned back to his seat, letting you rest your head on his shoulder for the rest of the bus ride.

///

“Ned if you don’t quiet down we’re going to get caught” You whispered as you and your friend piled out the hotel room. It was nearing 11 and all the teachers had forced the students to stay in the rooms for the rest of the night. “Your heels are making more noise than me” Ned joked as you all entered the elevator.

You rolled your eyes grabbing Peter wrist to look at the time on his watch, “Alright we all need to be back by 4:30”

To your surprise the casino wasn’t crowded, then again who is going to a casino on a Monday night. “Ok babe, me and Mj are gonna play craps. I'll leave Ned to practice before you lose this bet” You kissed his cheek before grabbing Mj’s hand and guiding her to the dice table.

“Don’t you think your father is going to question why there are charges to a Vegas casino on his credit card?” Mj asked as you took money out of the ATM. You shrugged, “That’s a problem for another day”. She chuckled as you moved to the table and placed your bets on the game. The dealer handed you your chips as well as the dice signaling to you that the game had started.

It was only an hour later when Peter met up with you and Mj. He wrapped his arms around your waist as you placed your betting chips in their spots, “Are you winning?” He whispered as you grabbed the dice from the table.

“I’ve done pretty good so far. I need a 7” You shook the dice in your hand before turning to him, “Kiss for good luck?”

He chuckled and gave you a quick kiss, watching as you threw the dice. He could sense your nervousness as the dice moved down the table hitting the wall before landing on the lucky number 7.

Everyone at the table shouted cheerfully, happy that they had won the round. You gather your chips from the dealer, “Alright Jerry it's been nice playing with you I hope to do it again sometime” you waved goodbye as you all walked to the poker table where Ned sat waiting for the group to join him before he started another game.

“Alright Ned three games I betting on two loses but Peter thinks differently” You teased as he rolled his eyes, “Prove me right”

If you were being honest you didn’t exactly know what was going on. You’d seen you father and the other avengers play poker before but they never let you in on the game so you hardly knew anything about it, but so far you could tell that you were losing the bet.

Ned was in the middle of the second game and according to Mj, who didn’t have a biased opinion on this bet, things were looking good for Peter. Ned had won the first game and it looked like he was going to win this one. You sighed in annoyance, hating that you had to admit you were wrong.

Peter smiled, wrapping his arms around you, “Don’t worry babe I think you’ll actually like that i have planned”. You rolled your eyes watching as Ned cheered clearly happy that he won the game. You sighed, “Ok what do you want”

“Give me 3 minutes. Stay here” He smiled, grabbing Mj’s arm, leaving you alone at the table with Ned.

“Ned what does he have planned?” You smirked hoping to wean out whatever Peter was going to do. He shook his head, “Y/N I love you but Peter’s my best friend and I can’t just give away the surprise” You rolled your eyes, turning around at watch as Peter talked to Mj.

“Please Mj” Peter begged, “I want to make this trip memorable and i'm only asking you because her father doesn’t know”

“You’re insane” her eyes widened at the thought of you and Peter getting married this young, “You guys are 18 do you seriously think getting married is the best idea”

“It’s been on her bucket list for years” He pointed out trying to justify his plans. “Please Mj if not for me then do it for the happiness of your best friend”

She took a deep breath, “Fine I will walk Y/N down the aisle”. Peter smiled pulling Mj into a tight hug. “You’re the best”

///

“Guys I don’t appreciate surprises” You joked as Ned guided you through the crowded sidewalk. “Don’t worry we’re almost there” He reassured you. You sighed and kept walking as all your friends laughed.

You came to a sudden stop as Peter grabbed your hand, “Ok Ned you can uncover her eyes” he chuckled. Ned took his hands off your eyes stepping back as you looked around in confusion. Peter was on one knee with a nervous smile plastered on his face. “Y/N I love you”

“Peter what are you doing?” You looked up noticing the small chapel you all stood in front of, “Please don’t tell me-”

“I love you and I know this is on your bucket list so” he kissed you hand, “Will you marry me?”

You stood silent for a moment, shock taking over your body, “Peter-” His face dropping, thinking maybe this was completely ridiculous. You smiled through as sigh, “Yes I will marry you”

He stood up quickly, pulling you into a hug. “Alright well we better hurry because it’s already 3 and we need to be back at the hotel soon”

You nodded your head as everyone walked into the small chapel, “Hi I made an appointment online” Peter said nervously as you walked to the front desk hand in hand, Mj and Ned trailing close behind you.

“Peter?” The short lady said. He nodded, grabbing his ID and handing it to her. You did the same as she typed the information in the computer. “Ok boys you can go through there and stand at the altar, girls you can come with me”

She smiled guiding you and Mj into a separate room, “Ok so we have different dress and veil options for you to pick from but you don’t seem like an extremely flashy girl so I'm going to suggest the little white dress option”

She handed you a hanger that held a body con white dress with glitter details, it actually looked like something you had in your closet at home. You nodded your head moving to the dressing room to put in on. You locked the door behind you taking this time as a moment for you to take everything in. You were about to get married. Even if it was just a joke it was still a crazy thing to do. You weren’t nervous that you’d regret it, you loved Peter with all your heart, but you were nervous about everyone else's reactions. I can do this, You whispered to yourself putting the dress on before walking out the small room.

“Alright here goes nothing” You smiled nervously and you grabbed Mj’s arm. The song over the speaker began to play as you slowly walked down the aisle. Peter turned to look at you, shocked at how good you looked in all white, a color you rarely ever wore.

"Wow" he muttered as you stood in front of him, handing your bouquet of fake flowers to Mj as she stood behind you. "You look amazing" You smiled grabbing his hand.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the union of Peter Benjamin Parker and Y/N Y/M/N Stark, in marriage. In the years they have been together, their love and understanding of each other has grown and matured, and now they have decided to live their lives together as husband and wife" the short lady read from the thin book in her hands. "Do you Peter Parker, take Y/N Stark to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

Peter smiled, looking you in the eyes, "I do"

"Do you Y/N Stark take Peter Parker to be you lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part"

You nodded your head enthusiastically, "I do"

"Then I now pronounce you husband and wife you may now kiss the bride" the room filled the applause as you pulled Peter into a quick passionate kiss. Only pulling apart when you realized your empty fingers, "wait we don't have rings"

"Oh i got that covered" Ned said cheerfully as he pulled out two contained of rings, the ones you usually get from the quarter machines, "they were the only ones I could find on short notice"

"they're perfect Ned", you chuckled, pulling out the pink and purple rings, "Dibs on pink"

Peter rolled his eyes forcing the small ring onto his finger, "I don't think I'll ever be able to take this off" he joked

"That's the point of a wedding ring" you grabbed his hand, "you can't get rid of me that easily"

"Alright time for pictures and then certificate" the short lady appeared with a Polaroid Camera snapping pictures of you and Peter.

"Are you happy?" You looked up and smiled. "I'm married to my favorite girl in the whole world. Why wouldn't I be happy?" Peter smirked before giving you a quick kiss.

Time flew by so fast. After the certificate was signed, a bottle of champagne was popped leading you to get extremely tipsy. By the time you all got back to the hotel it was already 5. Peter carried you up the stair bridal style watching as you moved sleepily in his arms.

"What the hell" Flash said loudly startling everyone. You all turned around watching as Flash stood in the hallway in his bathrobe surrounded by two girls who definitely weren't students. "Go to bed Flash" you mumbled, cuddling further into Peter's arms.

"You guys snuck out?" He said in a shocked voice, "Oh I can't wait until you guys to get caught"

Mj chuckled opening the door to the hotel room you shared with her, "Flash do those girls know that you're 16" she lied. The girls gasped quickly walking away from the angered boy. He took a deep breath before stomping back into his room. "Gosh I hate that dude" Ned said as you all walked into the hotel room.

Peter placed you in bed, taking off your shoes before tucking you in, "I'll see you tomorrow morning Mrs. Parker"

You smile tiredly, "I love you Mr. Parker"

///

"Well well well if it isn't the newly weds" Your father said angrily as you walked through the elevator doors. You kept your composure not wanting to give you and peter away

"What are you talking about?" You said through a smile

"Don't act dumb" you father said as he pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket, "I'm the one who gave Peter the emergency credit card I can see everything he buys"

Your eyes widened, Peter took a deep breath, "Mr. Stark-"

"Im gonna give you ten seconds to run" Your father said as he threw down the paper.

"I'll talk to you later babe" Peter quickly kissed your cheek before rushing out the room. You father quickly trailing behind

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sincerelyella · 3 years

Text

She Ain’t Me Part 2

Book: The Royal Romance (AU)

Pairing: Liam x MC (Ella); mentions of maybe Liam x Olivia; maybe Drake x MC (MAYBE)

Song Inspiration: She Ain’t Me by Sophia Scott

Summary: TRR during the homecoming ball, Olivia and Ella still get close on the engagement tour but Liv loves Liam, and she’s told him several times. What happens when his guard is down?

Catch up here if you missed part 1

A/N: Part 2 because I got a lot of requests for it, hopefully I didn’t mess it up too much LOL

Thank you @alyssalauren @burnsoslow @ofpixelsandscribbles for prereading and your suggestions and edits to this mess, I love you guyssss!

Warnings: TW: angst; adult language; TW: gun violence; some kinda love triangle (square?) thing I guess

Words: 2635

Olivia sucked in a breath. “Then be with me.”

Liam opened his eyes and turned to his oldest friend. “Liv …”

“What?” Her heart was beating a thousand miles a minute as she arched her brow.

“Liv, y-you know I don’t-”

Her hand shot out so fast and smacked him in the back of the head; Liam didn’t even flinch. “Stop being a dumbass.”

“Olivia!” Liam’s hand went to the back of his head and rubbed the sting away. “What the fuck?”

Liv blurted out what she really wanted, more than anything in this entire world. But it was stupid and fleeting. She knows Liam loves Ella Brooks.

The more Olivia thought about it, the more she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this man was meant to be with the woman of his dreams. Not me. “Drake worked his ass off to protect her,” Olivia said in a calm voice, even though everything inside her wasn’t calm. It was stormy, dark, and bleeding, but she pushed on. “He found Tariq that night trying to put his hands on Ella,” she watched Liam’s jaw clench. “He was the one that fought him and told him to leave.” Liam’s nostrils flared, his eyes clouded in anger. “And he didn’t tell you how he felt because you had enough shit going on being engaged to that two-bit blonde devil, Liam. Should he have told you? Yes,” Liv nodded and turned to stare at the setting sun, orange and yellow hues now a sliver in the now almost dark sky. “But when would have been an ... appropriate time to tell your best friend that you’re in love with the same woman?” Olivia slid her eyes back to Liam’s and held his gaze. “Do you think it’s easy for us?”

Regret flashed in Liam’s sky blue eyes as he stared into emerald ones. He slipped his hands inside his pockets and let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I …” his voice hitched and he swallowed quickly. “I’m sorry, Olivia,” Liam shook his head and turned to look at the doors to the ballroom. He could see Ella trying to peek through the windows to get a glimpse of him. “I may have … overreacted.”

“Understatement of the year,” Liv arched her brow at him with her signature smirk.

“Thank you.”

Olivia tilted her head slightly. “For?”

“Knocking some sense into me … quite literally,” he chuckled and then winced as he put his hand where she smacked him.

“Anytime,” she smiled, although it didn’t reach her eyes.

An awkward silence settled between them for a moment before Liam cleared his throat. “Did you mean what you said? Or was that something you did to get my attention?”

Olivia walked towards the balcony and leaned her elbows onto it. “Maybe a little of both.”

“I’m sor-”

“Liam,” she turned around quickly to face him. “Don’t.”

He opened his mouth to respond and Olivia held up a hand. “I don’t want or need your apologies, Liam. We’ve been friends since we were children and you were always straightforward about your … lack of romantic feelings.” She picked an imaginary piece of lint on her fire-red sequined gown. “You were honest from the beginning. I don’t need you to feel sorry for me, I’m a big girl.”

Liam knew when it was pointless to argue so he just smiled. “Would you mind bringing Drake out here please?”

She nodded and hastily made her way inside the ballroom. Ella, Drake, and Maxwell immediately ran towards the fiery redhead.

“Liv!” “Is everything okay now?” “Where is he?”

“Drake,” she gestured towards the balcony doors. “You’re up.”

Ella’s bottom lip quivered and she bit down on it to keep from crying. No one noticed but Olivia.

“Maxwell, please grab Ella something to drink. A fruity one” - Olivia waved her hand in the air - “with some glitter or some shit.”

Max grinned and ran towards the bar, Drake ran a shaky hand through his already tousled brown hair and turned to make his way outside. When they were alone, Olivia grabbed Ella’s elbow and gently pulled her to the corner of the ballroom.

Ella began to babble. “Liv, I need to go, I have to check on-”

“You’ll stay put, Ella, this is a conversation for those two and those two alone.”

The queen-to-be nodded in agreement but said nothing.

“I, uh …” Olivia pulled her lips between her teeth as she glanced down at the floor then back up at her friend. “Ella, I need to apologize to you.”

Ella’s eyes widened in surprise.

Liv waved her hand up in a circle. “Spare me the looks, please.” Ella and Olivia had grown close over the engagement tour, much to Liv’s dismay. She used to look at Ella as an American dolt that had no clue about Cordonian traditions, who stole her childhood love out from under her. But over months of being on the tour, they had to work together to figure out the plot against them and … Ella didn’t take any of her shit, and she respected that. “I want to apologize because-”

“You’re in love with Liam?” Ella smirked.

“In short, yes,” she nodded.

“You’ve known him almost his entire life, Liv,” her brows rounded as she took in her friend. “I don’t blame you for loving him.”

It was Olivia’s turn to look surprised.

“He’s the kindest person” - Ella let out a sigh - “anyone has probably ever met and he loves hard. Plus, he’s really easy on the eyes so I don’t blame you at all.”

Liv chuckled. “I’m working on it, it’s just really difficult to … see you two together.”

“I understand,” Ella pulled the Scarlet Duchess into her arms for a hug despite her protests. “Shut up, Liv, friends hug.”

Olivia squeezed Ella into a hug and then pulled away with a sigh. “I think maybe … after the wedding … I just take a small break.”

“I understand,” she let out her own sigh and swallowed the lump that was in her throat. “How pissed …” Ella looked up at the ceiling and waved her hand over her eyes to keep the tears from falling. “Was he really mad about-”

“He was pissed, yes,” Liv knew what she was asking. “Did you kiss him?” Her arms were folded across her chest.

“Who? Drake? No! Of course not!”

“Did you sleep with him?”

“Olivia!”

“Did you give him any reason to pursue you, Ella?”

“No,” Ella shook her head vehemently. “I told him that I love Liam. I only see Drake as a friend; I love him like a brother.”

“Then this isn’t on you and you let those two hash it out between them.”

On the balcony

Drake opened the door and shut it quietly. He had no idea what to expect from this conversation with Liam. This was about his fiancé for crying out loud. He was in love with Liam’s fiancé and if the roles were reversed, he’d be fucking pissed off too.

“Drake.”

He looked up to see Liam standing against the balcony, hands in his pockets, legs crossed at the ankles.

“Hey, Li.”

Liam pushed himself off of the cool cement and made his way towards him. “Tell me when this all started.”

His voice was calm as he spoke and it threw Drake off. He was expecting a coldness, anger, anything but this. But he went along with it and cleared his throat before speaking, choosing his words wisely. “Well, uh … I’d probably say the very beginning, on the plane back home from New York; there was a moment in Lythikos” - Drake shook his head - “But I didn’t realize anything until Applewood.”

Liam clenched his jaw and his hands fisted in his pockets. “What happened?” He croaked out and then he cleared his own throat. “What went on in Lythikos? Did you … did you two-” He couldn’t even say it out loud as he let out a breath, his chest burning. He and Ella were together intimately for the first time that night in Lythikos during the social season and if something happened with her and Drake as well …

“No!” Drake blurted out, his head shaking so fast that he got dizzy. “We’ve never … never, ever, Liam.”

Relief flooded Liam’s handsome face.

“You … you really thought I’d do that to you? That she would do that to you?” Drake stuck his thumb out and gestured towards the ballroom at Ella.

“No,” Liam answered honestly. “But my mind was going a thousand miles-a-minute and for a little bit I had no clue what to think.”

Drake's eyebrows rounded. “Nothing happened with us … romantically. On our way back from New York, I was telling her she didn’t belong, that people would be shitty to her. She put me in my place. Ever since then, she’s made me eat my words. In Lythikos,” Drake rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the roughness of his stubble from the day. “Olivia was giving me shit about Savannah leaving …”

Liam gave his friend a concerned look, knowing.

“Ella jumped in and told her to shut the fuck up before she stabs her with the fork she’s currently eating with” - despite his dissipating anger, Liam started to chuckle, interrupting the story. Drake looked up, surprised, then started to laugh with him - “El goes right back to … eating her fruit tart … looking at Olivia … with that fucking smirk.” The two continued to laugh, Liam knowing exactly the smirk Drake was talking about and also knowing the Scarlet Duchess and how she probably had no comeback.

When the two had calmed down, Liam wiping some moisture from his eyes from cracking up, Drake continued with his recount of the day in Lythikos. “Something inside me just … I don’t know how to say it,” he frantically thought of the words to describe what he was feeling. “No one besides you and Savannah had ever stood up for me before and it made me feel …”

“Like she cared about you,” Liam finished for him.

Drake nodded. “Then we watched the meteor shower together outside and I told her about Sav.”

Liam chewed on the inside of his cheek. “And Applewood?”

“After seeing the fear in her eyes that night, Tariq’s fucking hands on her, I just … felt this rage” - both men sucked in an angered breath - “A rage I’d never felt before over a woman and I realized then that I’d do anything and everything to protect her. To make sure no harm came to her, and …”

“You realized you were in love with her,” Liam said quietly, finally understanding.

Drake stared at Liam’s shoes for a moment then looked up to meet his best friend’s gaze. “Yes.”

“I …” Liam paused for a moment, making sure these were the words he wanted to say. “I understand why you fell for her.”

Drake looked at him, surprised.

“She’s fierce, intelligent, loving, beautiful” - Liam’s eyes slid towards the balcony doors and saw his fiancé sneaking glances at him from inside - “and loyal. I want to apologize and to thank you.”

Drake’s face went from surprise and contorted to confusion. “I’m sorry, you what?”

Liam nodded. “I overreacted and quickly jumped to conclusions without giving it careful thought. I just ... wish you would have told me when you realized you loved her, Drake, it took me by surprise, that’s all. And thank you for always being there to protect her,” Liam sucked in a breath. “I wasn’t there,” he whispered. “I wasn’t there in Applewood and what if …”

“Don’t you dare blame yourself, Liam!” Drake’s voice was raised. “We can’t think like that, if nobody was there to step in …” he closed his eyes to contain his temper. “We can’t go there. One of us was, and that’s all that matters.”

Liam nodded.

“And you’re right, I should have told you the minute I realized my feelings,” he agreed as he ran a hand through his dark hair. “I’m so sorry for that. I told her about my feelings in Applewood when she helped me with my bruises. She told me that she’s here for you and that she’s in love with you” - Drake closed his eyes briefly then opened them to look at his brother - “and that I should tell you how I felt.”

Neither man said anything for a moment, the only sounds that filled the night air were crickets, the leaves rustling in the wind, and an owl in the distance.

“You’re a lucky man, Liam,” Drake whispered.

“I know.” The young king took a shaky breath in and let it out slowly. He knew he was, and he knew how difficult it must be for his best friend to watch the woman he was in love with being engaged to someone else.

“Are we going to be okay?”

Liam looked over at his best friend of a decade, his brother, and smiled. “Yes, but” - his smile faded - “I don’t want this to be difficult for you. You have to watch Ella and me-”

“I’m fine, Li.”

“Don’t do that,” Liam said sternly. “I know it would kill me inside if the roles were reversed.”

“Of course it’s painful but it’s you and Brooks,” Drake said as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb before looking back at Liam. “Who else is going to watch your backs? Bastien? Beaumont?!” He flung his arm back towards the ballroom in disgust.

Liam chuckled. “Just know that I would understand if you needed … time.”

“I appreciate that, but I don’t want or need time. My place is here, watching over you two. Making sure Beaumont doesn’t accidentally light the palace on fire or some shit.”

The two men hugged and pulled away, patting each other’s shoulders.

“I wanted to speak with Ella-”

“Yeah,” Drake sighed. “She’s been trying to be sneaky, walking past the door almost the whole time we’ve been out here.”

Liam chuckled. “Alright my friend, let’s head back in.”

The two slipped back into the ballroom and the lights went out.

“What in the-” Drake growled.

Gunshots sounded in the air. “Everyone shut the fuck up and get on the ground!”

“Ella!” Liam’s voice boomed over the screams. “ELLA!”

“We’ll find her, Li,” Drake’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness but could only make out shadows of people running frantically in every direction.

The lights turned back on and both men turned to see Ella with one of the assassins, his arm around her waist, Glock pressed to her temple. “Ahh, King Liam. Perfect setting don’t you think? I can kill your bride” - he ran the side of his gun against Ella’s face and she struggled to get away - “Or I can kill you.” Another assassin appeared from behind the first one with his assault rifle pointed at Liam.

“Let her go and take me instead,” he commanded.

“Liam!” Ella choked out, her cheeks streaked with tears, her eyes pleading. “Don’t!”

“Where are you going, sweetie?” Assassin number one cooed as she struggled against his grasp. He raised his firearm and hit her over the head with it.

“Ella!” Drake and Liam yelled out as she lay limp in the man’s arms.

“Take her!” He hissed at assassin number two. Ella was removed from the ballroom as Liam and Drake watched helplessly. “Stay!” The man commanded as he pointed his gun at the two of them. “You’ll hear my demands in a few hours.”

The assassin leader turned and left with a loud cackle. The other assassins with their rifles pointed at Drake and Liam backed out of the room one by one until the deafening silence was almost too much to bear.

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winterscaptain · 3 years

Text

roots.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: another one from 2026! aaron retires from federal service this year, at 57.

words: 2.4k warnings: kids!, missing haley hotchner hours, language

summary: “Every day the increasing weight of years admonishes me more and more, that the shade of retirement is as necessary to me as it will be welcome.” ― George Washington, Farewell Address. au!october 2026

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

SSA Mallory Kagan asks you to outline your career with the FBI - purposefully using your first name instead of using your title. It keeps the students guessing and paying attention.

Plus, the payoff when they figure out who you are is the best part of the whole lecture.

“My career at the FBI is more like a big tree than a path or a journey.”

You look out over the classroom - blue shirts abound - and take a deep breath to center yourself.

You’re used to giving this lecture with Aaron, but this is your first fall without him, which also means that this is the first academy class who won’t know him in person.

They’ll only hear tell of the legend SSA Aaron Hotchner was stabbed nine times, lost his wife to a serial killer, and kept going. You know they’ll hear stories about his severity, his general lack of sunniness, hear rumors about the way he laughs with his children, his wife, and nobody else.

You know the older agents tell stories about you, too. They say you ‘tamed’ Hotch, made him a little nicer. They might even say they’ve seen him smile at you, or they’ve seen you give him hell in public.

Aaron Hotchner is practically a myth, now, only supported by your reputation, tall tales from academy classes of yesteryear, and his own legacy.

That retired bastard currently sits in your house with your kids, right on his fine behind, very likely falling into boredom-addled insanity.

“Everything that I am - a parent, a wife, a friend, and an agent - is because of my work with the Behavioral Analysis Unit over the past nineteen years. My unit is my family, and I can’t get rid of them. Just like our own families, we love to hate each other.”

The room laughs, and you know you have them hooked.

“Jokes aside, I would encourage you to get to know your colleagues. Each relationship I built within my unit put a root into the ground, made the proverbial tree stronger - to extend the metaphor. I work with very few of the same people I started with, but I feel as steady and supported as I did back when they called us ‘The Elite Eight.’”

You chuckle a little, clicking through your introductory slide to showcase a photo of the BAU in 2012. You point to each of them as you speak.

“SSA Emily Prentiss, current unit chief of the Behavior Analysis unit and former head of the Interpol London office, responsible for taking down one of the most prolific international arms dealers in modern history.”

The room is quiet, a little awestruck, so you add, “She’s a bit of a big deal.”

They laugh.

“SSA Derek Morgan - you’ll probably hear stories about how he survived the Boston bombing with SSA Gideon in 2005, but don’t worry. He wasn’t there. He was with his momma in Chicago, celebrating her birthday.”

Another laugh.

You’ve honed this routine over the last five years, knowing what to add, when to pause, what to cut if the students lose interest.

“That said, SSA Morgan is one of the best profilers I’ve had the pleasure of working with. Today, he’s a consultant for DC Metro SWAT and is otherwise retired.”

Continuing down the line, “SSA Jennifer Jareau - JJ. Former communications liaison for the BAU, State Department, and DoD. She currently serves with the BAU as a profiler. If any of you are interested in PR or media relations, find an opportunity to speak with her about her experience. Her husband, Will, is a detective with the DC Metro Police and has plenty of stories of his own.”

A student raises a hand, and you give her the go-ahead.

“Sorry for interrupting -“

You stop her. “You didn’t interrupt. You raised your hand. Don’t apologize for taking up space.”

She smiles a little. “Okay. Um, I’m curious. How many people in your unit are married and/or have children? My understanding is that the work-life balance can be difficult in heavy-travel positions like the BAU.”

“It can absolutely be a challenge.” You look back at the photo. “In the course of my career, six of my colleagues have been or were already married and all of them went on to have children.”

“And you?”

You laugh a little, forgetting you’re alone up here. “Right.”

The class laughs, and you point yourself out on the slide.

“I still had my maiden name when this photo was taken, but now I share five children and a last name with SSA Aaron Hotchner.” You throw your thumb at Aaron’s likeness on the screen again for good measure.

You check in with SSA Kagan to make sure you can share everything you usually do with Aaron present - your marriage was often the punchline of your lectures, letting you toe the line of humor a little farther than you normally would.

She nods, a little smile on her face.

“While I wouldn’t necessarily recommend dating your unit chief or marrying your section chief -“ you pause, holding your hands up in surrender to the echo of laughter “- even if they are the same person - you can certainly find the best people without looking too hard.”

Hands shoot up into the air, but that always happens. It’s around this time people start asking the good questions. The people from their course materials and the people in front of them start to link together.

They also figure out that you’re Agent Hotchner. That Agent Hotchner - the one married to the Agent Hotchner.

You look out over the crowd again. “I know you have lots of questions, and I’m happy to confirm or deny any rumors about myself or my family, but,” you pause for dramatic effect. “Hold them for now - you’ll want to know the players before you ask the questions.”

Hands drop, but pens start moving. You continue down the line, skipping over Aaron.

“SSA David Rossi, a founding member of the BAU in the late 1980’s. He worked closely with SSA Jason Gideon, developing a database that we use to this day - one that outlines signatures, modus operandi, and victimology of modern serial killers. SSA Rossi is also well-known for his books - ten of them, in fact, that cover what we do in a kind of…”

You search for a word.

“Conversational format. He retired a couple of years ago, and is a full-time grandpa to all 16 of the BAU offspring.”

A few scattered chuckles pass through the room.

“And then we have Dr. Spencer Reid - I could enumerate his degrees, but we don’t have that kind of time. He’s the smartest person I’ve ever met, and remains an asset to the BAU in the field today.”

You click to another slide - a photo of all of you taken a few weeks ago.

“SSA Matthew Simmons - retired from the United States Army and former member of the FBI International Response Team, or IRT. He’s been with the BAU for ten years now. Like Dr. Reid and SSA Prentiss, he knows multiple languages - which comes in handy.” You look out and raise your eyebrows. “I hope all of you did well in your Spanish classes in high school - you might need it.”

Another laugh.

“SSA Luke Alvez and Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia are another pair that come from, shall we say, nontraditional backgrounds. While Garcia is no longer with the BAU, SSA Alvez is also celebrating his tenth year with us this fall.”

A student raises his hand, and you call on him.

“Isn’t Penelope Garcia the hacker known as The Black Queen? I learned about her work when I was at MIT.”

You snort. “Nice way to slip in you went to MIT, there, bud.” You pause, waiting for the ruckus to die down as the student in question turns bright red. “But yes. Her experience was invaluable to our team. Just to keep up, we stole an analyst from the NSA to replace her - nobody else could cut the mustard.”

You look back, stepping forward and pacing as you speak.”And finally, Dr. Tara Lewis. Formerly working in the FBI Counsel’s office as a forensic psychologist, she joined our team on cases where specific pathologies were in play before becoming a full-fledged member of our team.

“So, as you can see, there are so many varied qualities we look for in profilers, and your own path will be informed by the skills you develop, your temperament, and your dedication to the work itself. There’s no right way to be an agent, and when you leave the academy in five weeks, the whole world of the bureau will be open to you.”

Clicking back to your introductory slide, you turn to the front of the classroom. “I know all my colleagues well enough to take any questions you may have about their careers and paths through the bureau. For any questions I can’t answer, I am happy to direct you to them with the understanding they may not get back to you due to our caseload. I’ll take your questions now.”

Hands shoot up into the air, and you specifically call on the student in the back - the one you know has a question about Aaron.

“So, when you say SSA Aaron Hotchner, you mean the same one that worked the Boston Reaper case for ten years?”

SSA Kagan checks in with you, ready to shut him down, but you call her off.

“That’s right. SSAs Jareau, Morgan, Prentiss, Rossi, Dr. Reid, Miss Garcia, and I worked that case in its final year as well.”

“I have a follow-up if that’s okay.”

You tacitly give him leave to continue.

“How do you handle cases that get that… close? I know there were considerable...” He searches for the right word. “...challenges. How did you guys deal with that?”

Good question.

Returning to the podium, you lean heavily against it, lacing your fingers in front of you. “You’ve all read the Reaper case file, yes? It’s still included in the MCRT training courses?”

There are nods around the room, but you check in with Kagan anyway.

“The declassified version is covered,” She says. “They’re familiar with the full scope of the case.”

“Okay. So, as you all know…”

You remind them what happened, from 1998 to 2009, finally landing where the students want you. “And on November 23rd, 2009, Haley Reneé Hotchner was George Foyet’s 40th and final victim. She was thirty-nine years old. And she was my friend.”

The room is dead silent, all eyes on you, somber and attentive.

“The case was personal. It became personal because Foyet forced our hands. He attacked Agent Hotchner in his home and then targeted his family. So, the question is, how do we deal with that? Right?”

Even Kagan’s watching you closely. It’s the first time you’ve covered this case without the rest of your team. In your joint lectures with Aaron, the case is off-limits for questions. She’s never heard you tell the story in your own words.

You take a breath. “And the answer is… you don’t.”

There are some confused faces, so you elaborate. “There isn’t anything you can do to push the case away from you - that’s how people get hurt. In the meantime, you make adjustments. Agent Hotchner placed Agent Morgan in an interim unit chief position until the case was over, for the sake of his health and sanity. We chased down every lead, understanding that the faster we caught Foyet, the faster Haley and Jack, Agent Hotchner’s son, could come home.”

A young woman in front tentatively raises a hand, and you open a hand to her. “Yes?”

“What happened, you know, after?”

“We moved on as best we could. Going back to my original point -”

You leave the podium and take your place in the center of the floor again.

“- the trust you have in the people you work with can carry you through a great many things. And not all of you will see horror every day - but some of you will.”

You pause for a moment, hoping this is the part that really sinks in for them.

“Always have something to come home to. Always have something or someone that brings you peace, that can take you away from the work.”

+++

You set your things down and walk through the door, immediately accosted by two almost-eight-year-olds and their over-eager little brother.

“Momma!”

You haul Elliot onto your hip and kiss Sophia’s head as Caroline burrows into your side. “Hi, darlings! Did you already have dinner?”

Sophia moves to answer, but Aaron’s voice shoots around the corner. “Yes!”

With a smile, you seek him out, dragging the girls along with you. Lo and behold, Aaron’s at the sink, washing dishes. Isaac’s supervising - sitting on the counter, swinging his feet.

Aaron gets a kiss on the cheek from you as you pass and he turns over his shoulder, chasing you until you peck him on the lips, Elliot squished between you. Your son squirms, and you set him on the ground to chase after his sisters. Isaac hops off the counter likely off to investigate the happenings before retreating to his room for the rest of the evening.

For once, you’re left alone.

“How was your lecture?”

Your arms free, you wrap around him and rest your full weight against his chest as he backs himself into the counter. “Went well. Missed you, though.”

The corner of his mouth tips up. “Did they ask about Foyet?”

“Mhmm. It was a good segue into trusting your team and building each other up, knowing when to step back, etcetera.”

He nods. “Good way to bring it back around. How’s Kagan?”

“She’s good, loving it, as always.”

“Think she’s ever gonna retire?” He asks, tucking into your neck.

You laugh as he presses kisses to the underside of your jaw. “Probably not.”

Aaron leans back to look at you, bringing his hand to your face to brush over your cheekbone. “Are you ever gonna retire?”

“Probably not.”

“What if,” he says, his hands slipping into your back pockets, “you retired in…” He does the math in his head. “Thirteen-ish years and I make it worth your while.”

“Oh yeah? Worth my while? And you’ll be, what, a hundred years old?”

His eyes roll so hard you’re sure he could see his own brain. You pull him down for a kiss, but it doesn’t stop him from mumbling, “Give me a fuckin’ break,” against your mouth.

“Never.”

+++

tagging: @writefasttalkevenfaster @quillvine @stxrrywildflower @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @mrs-marcus-moreno @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @jdougl-love @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @qvid-pro-qvo @mandylove1000 @jeor @wakatoshislover @word-scribbless @bwbatta @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @joanofarkansass @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @ssahotchnerr @this-broken-band-girl @winqhster @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @the-falling-in-the-danger @softbibxtch @iconicc @mangoberry43 @andreasworlsboring101 @kerrswriting @mac99martin @itsalwaysb33nyou @baumarvel @messyhairday-me @ssworldofsw @deagibs @crazyshannonigans @moonshinerbynight @jhiddles03 @teamhappyme @mendesmelodies @starsandasteroids @unicorn-bitch @ambicaos @itsmytimetoodream @pinkdiamond1016

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #tali talks cm #tali writes fanfiction #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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makeste · 4 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 287: Family Reunion

Previously on BnHA: The Tomura For One VS Deku And Pals clusterfuck reached new levels of clustfuckery as AFO possessed Tomura’s body and stabbed Kacchan and Endeavor. Shouto was all “good thing I leveled up offscreen so as to be able to fly around whilst carrying 400lbs worth of people”, and did just that and it was like, damn, son. Meanwhile Deku’s rage went Mach 100, and he kicked Tomura’s ass for almost two whole seconds, but in the process he apparently forgot that IF TOMURA TOUCHES HIM THAT IS VERY BAD, and so he stupidly let Tomura touch him and Tomura was all “GAME, SET.” Fortunately for Deku, his quirk plays by its own rules, and so the chapter ended with us cutting to the METAPHYSICAL OFA/AFO PARANORMAL DREAMSCAPE OF MYSTICAL BULLSHIT, where AFO!Vestige was all “lol Tomura y u mad”, and Nana!Vestige was all “SUP DEKU, YOU’RE JUST IN TIME, LOOKS LIKE IT’S ASSKICKING O’CLOCK.” I’m paraphrasing a bit, but that’s more or less the gist of it.

Today on BnHA: AFO is all “well if it isn’t Tomura’s grandmother who I murdered that one time”, and Deku is all “?”, and AFO is all “fucking vestiges, man, wild”, and Deku is all “??”, and AFO is all “ANYWAYS GETTIM TOMURA”, and OFA is all “NOT SO FAST”, and Deku is all “???”, and really, same. AFO then goes off on some wild tangent about how Deku is unworthy because he couldn’t protect everyone and needed help from OFA and got mad about his friends being stabbed, which is such a cold take it gave me hypothermia, but it ends up not mattering since Deku and Tomura both wake up seconds later with OFA still in the possession of its rightful owner, HOW ABOUT THAT. The chapter ends with the LoV approaching on Gigantomachia’s back with Dabi practically salivating at the mouth, and Toga trying to reignite an old fandom blood feud. Toga why would you do this to me. Toga.

YESSSSSSSSSSSSS

[CROWD LOSING THEIR MINDS] FINALLY THE NANA HAS COME BACK TO BNHA!! IF YA SMELLLLL WHAT THE NANA IS COOKIN!!!!! [RINGSIDE BELL CHIMING WILDLY] [LOUD AIRHORN NOISES]

“chapter 287: mistake” omg. yeah I’ll say you made a mistake, AFO. I HOPE YOU ENJOY THESE FLEETING LAST MOMENTS OF YOUR SHITTY EVIL LIFE

(ETA: so in all seriousness this must be referring to AFO’s belief that All Might/OFA made a mistake in choosing Deku, right? “I can’t believe you went and chose this shounen manga protagonist as your champion, what were you thinking.” I’ll just put this out there: however many comic books AFO read as a child, it clearly was not enough.)

wow Deku how slow are you

yes you’re inside OFA you dimbulb, did you think your clothes suddenly vanished out of the blue and the ghost of Nana just randomly appeared in the real world by some freak coincidence?? can you believe this kid. breaks his arms a measly 10-15 times in a row and all of a sudden he can’t think straight, get it together Deku

but also brb having a moment at the fact that his thoughts immediately run back to Kacchan, even with all of this nonsense going on and Nana about to lay the beatdown on AFO’s potato-lookin’ ass. forget that noise, all he wants to know is whether or not Kacchan is all right. fuckin’ geez. AM I OVERREACTING HERE A BIT. probably

(ETA: ALSO!! the way he just trails off!! “Kacchan is...” and then he can’t bring himself to complete the thought. oh my god my heart.)

HOLY SHIT

okay,

damn but this man sure knows how to ruffle my feathers. as eminently detestable as ever!!

could it be any clearer here that AFO is not on Tomura’s side?? for a moment I thought he had actually grabbed him by the back of the head in order to get him to look. but nope, he’s just resting his pointing hand on top of his head instead while he’s all “HEY TOMURA LOL IT’S THE GHOST OF YOUR DEAD PATHETIC GRANDMA”

for those keeping track at home, this would be the first time that Deku has heard this information -- that Tomura is Nana’s grandson -- and possibly the first time Vestige!Nana has heard it as well. Nana died when Kotarou was still a child, so for all we know the Vestige!Nana didn’t even know she had a grandson, lol. TODAY ON “MAKESTE RANTS AT LENGTH ABOUT THINGS THAT WILL PROBABLY BE ADDRESSED WITHIN THE NEXT THREE PANELS”, anyway moving on

lmao for the record I fucking LOLed at this giant question mark immediately bubbling up over Deku’s head

no idea what AFO is about to ramble on about now, haven’t read that far yet. but let the record show that Deku’s immediate reaction to hearing “BTW NANA IS YOUR ARCHNEMESIS’S GRANDMA LULZ” is everything I could have hoped for

(ETA: fandom nailed the shit out of this one with the confused Mr. Krabs meme lmao.)

okay so now AFO is monologuing at length about how he would sometimes have “riveting dreams” about the previous owners of all the quirks he stole. but once he gave the quirks away they stopped bothering him?? holy moly let me just take all the notes

okay so he’s saying that Vestiges are created whenever someone has their quirk stolen by AFO. but if they then disappear when he gives the quirks away, does that also mean that whoever receives the quirks also gets the original owner’s Vestige bundled in every time?? that would be wild okay hold up let me read the rest of this

so he’s saying that the Vestiges are actually the “consciousnesses” of the original quirk owners, which have become embedded in their dna or something. SOUNDS INCREDIBLY DUBIOUS TO ME LOL but on the other hand this is a world where children can be born with airplane heads, so my disbelief can hardly afford to pick and choose what it’s gonna be suspended at! anyways though, how does he know he’s the only one who was able to converse with them? did you conduct detailed six-month follow-up interviews with everyone you gave quirks to or what

and if it really is the case that this ability was formerly exclusive to him, isn’t that more evidence than ever that OFA and AFO are actually THE EXACT SAME QUIRK oh whoops am I getting ahead of myself again, sorry

MEANWHILE TOMURA IS ALL, “GRANDMA?”

“WHY AM I HERE, WELL LET ME TELL YOU A STORY, GRANDSON. YOU SEE THAT MAN GROWING OUT OF YOUR RIBCAGE THERE? WELL IT’S JUST THE FUNNIEST THING, ACTUALLY”

WAIT SO IS HE SAYING THEY’RE SOULS OR NOT??

this makes it sound like they won’t ever get to rest, which sure sounds like a soul thing to me. well whatever, soul, consciousness, I guess it’s just semantics at the end of the day

anyways though, so this asshole is finally done talking (I’m sure that won’t last), so now we can finally have the heartwarming reunion we’ve all been waiting for

sigh

-- actually, no, not “sigh”!! you know what!! because Tomura says “whatever the reason”, but that’s only because he doesn’t actually have a fucking clue about the reason. like, I don’t know if the knowledge that AFO killed Nana would be enough to give him pause, but if he knew the whole story and knew that AFO was behind not only Nana’s death, but the rest of his family’s deaths as well... now that would be a whole different thing

anyway. but at least it’s becoming clearer now why AFO spent all that time raising Tomura up as his heir and brainwashing him even though he seems to have been planning this body takeover the whole time. it’s all because he loves making people miserable! yaaaaay

btw HAS NANA HAD THE EXACT SAME MOLE ON HER CHIN AS TOMURA THIS ENTIRE TIME WTF. am I just the least observant person who ever lived lmao

lol wtf

ground: [randomly starts exploding]

Deku: “ONE FOR ALL IS BEING ERODED!!!” LOL IS THAT WHAT’S HAPPENING HERE, OKAY THEN. I’ll take your word for it

y’all I cannot fucking get over this “AFO growing out of Tomura’s hip socket like a fucked-up ventriloquist dummy” shit though

you do realize that absolutely no one can take you seriously right now, right?? it’s important to me that you know this

WHAT’S THIS NOW

seems like SOMEONE has had it up to here with a certain SOMEONE ELSE’S bullshit lmaooo bye Felicia

I SAID GOOD DAY!!

you guys why is he not dying!!

-- OH DAMN

love how Deku is just lying there like “YOU KNOW THOSE DAYS WHERE YOU’RE LIKE, THIS MIGHT AS WELL HAPPEN.” poor Deku

(ETA: where in god’s name is OFA Prime standing. why are my thoughts fully consumed by this lmao.)

are Nana and OFA Prime even doing anything?? why are they sticking their arms out like that. wait hold up is this all a big metaphor for the back-and-forth going on between Tomura trying to steal OFA and OFA being all “actually no you can’t, please enter your password and click on all the boxes with bicycles in them to prove you’re a human first”?

OH SNAP OFA PRIME SAID NO THANKS

“SORRY BRO WE’VE ALREADY MADE OURSELVES AT HOME HERE”

I have only just noticed that metaphysical!Deku has the same scars as actual!Deku. and yet his arms are not currently broken! that doesn’t really seem consistent to me but whatever!! maybe he saved right before the boss battle, that would be smart of him

anyway, that’s great and all that OFA Prime is here helping out, but I really wanted to see Nana fight AFO in a one on one though so I’m a bit disappointed. also why is it only the two of them?? where are Banjou and the others. of all the times to be sleeping on the job

FOR FUCK’S SAKE, THIS MAN

WOULD YOU STOP. WOULD YOU JUST QUIT IT ALREADY

oh shit hold up

doesn’t this confirm that the reason he wanted to transfer his power to Tomura is because he believed it would make him strong enough to finally take OFA because of Quirk Singularity? jesus christ. and here he was so sure of himself. but it turns out he doesn’t actually know shit! you can’t just fucking take OFA like that ya dingdong that’s not how it works

(ETA: SO, A THOUGHT -- is there any sort of subtle hinting here in the way that he words this? “if your strength is combined with mine”, as opposed to “if my strength is combined with yours”? no idea if the admittedly-so-small-as-to-be-almost-inconsequential distinction between those two sentences exists in the original Japanese or not, but I find it very interesting that the English wording implies that he’s the one adding Tomura’s strength to his own, rather than vice versa.)

now he’s insulting Deku!!

excuse me sir WHO ASKED YOU anyway. and never mind that being consumed by an, AND I QUOTE, “unquenchable” rage is your protege’s whole THING, and that he also needed your help to avoid being burned to a crisp a short while ago. where do you get off I swear

(ETA: also just want to point out that in the panel before this one he says that he’s been “watching through Tomura”, which pretty much confirms that his consciousness or whatever is alive inside of him all the time. Tomura is definitely not getting rid of this guy any time soon.)

WOW

first he calls Kacchan useless, then he calls Deku a simpleton, and don’t even get me started with Nana. just, you guys. this man is just... a very, very rude man

NOW OFA IS ALL “THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT MAKES HIM SUCH A GOOD PROTAGNIST YOU BUTTMUNCH” AND OMG PREACH

“DESPITE HIS COMMON SENSE” sdfkllk my man he already has one brother roasting him, take it easy guy

AHH WHAT

IS THIS BACK IN THE REAL WORLD

YEP

hahaha nice try Tomura

so Deku’s all “I didn’t lose my power! BUT” and I assume the “but” is the part where his arms are still broken and shit, and meanwhile Tomura’s body is almost healed up now finally

they’re both wiped out and now AFO is again petitioning Tomura to let him take over goddammit

“you won’t lose your mind” yep, he sure won’t! scout’s honor!! pinky swear!!

meanwhile Deku is getting fucking desperate flkjl;k my baby. and Machia is going to show up any second now too, probably. what else can fucking go wrong at this point

oh shit I shouldn’t have asked

get ready to rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrruuuumble, probably

OH MY GOD

WELL AT LEAST SOMEONE HERE IS HAVING A GOOD TIME. jesus

so as soon as he heard Endeavor was there he got all, “TIME FOR THE BIG REVEAL”, is that right? WELL JOKE’S ON YOU TOUYA, YOUR DAD DOESN’T SEEM ALL THAT CONSCIOUS AT THE MOMENT, SO THAT’S GOING TO DRAIN A LOT OF THE TENSION FROM THE SCENE WHEN YOU GO ALL REVERSE DARTH VADER ON HIM AND HE’S ALL “ZZZZZZZZ”

meanwhile Toga is having unsettlingly quiet angst

jesus christ Toga this is all we need right now

“WAS JIN-KUN NOT A PERSON” sdkfjlk Horikoshi I swear. please have mercy on this fandom. this is the debate that refuses to die!!

but seriously ffs, the issue isn’t that Jin deserved to die, it’s that the countless people whom Jin would have either directly or indirectly killed didn’t deserve to die either. people don’t only become people when you attach names and faces to them! we all loved Jin because we’d gotten to know him, but that doesn’t mean his life was inherently worth more than the lives of all the people he would have killed. sometimes there’s just no good answer

like, it’s just crazy to me that because the heroes are all “we want to protect everyone!” but then aren’t always able to do so because that’s literally impossible, whereas the villains are all “we don’t care about anyone other than the select few people that we actually like!”, the villains somehow wind up getting the better PR. it just so happens that it’s infinitely easier to be loyal to the interests of a few people as opposed to ALL THE PEOPLE. like, no shit, it’s easier to stick to your moral code when you barely have a moral code. and so the villains can kill thousands and no one bats an eye, but if a hero fails to save even one person they’re hypocritical moral failures. like what the hell

BUT ANYWAY, sorry to go off on a tangent there lol, it’s not really a big deal. I’m just preemptively trying to stave off more discourse about it lol but who am I even kidding

anyways lol, but of course they won’t kill you unless they have no choice, Toga. but when it comes to catch-22 situations, it’s a bit much to infer that the heroes don’t consider the villains people just because they opt for the choice that spares more innocent lives. I sure as hell don’t want my babies out here killing people, but to say that they can’t no matter what or else they’re no different from the villains is just...

anyway so the chapter has now just ENDED, just like that!! on a shot of Ochako’s face!

I SENSE ANOTHER THROWDOWN COMING. and it had better not be a total letdown like the last one! NANA BARELY DID ANYTHING HORIKOSHI, WHAT THE FUCK. I started out with such high hopes lol

but I will settle for Toga VS Ochako, and Deku VS Tomura: The Sequel: Shouto’s Revenge! SPEAKING OF HEROES WHO HAVE NO QUALMS ABOUT MURDERING PEOPLE lmao

#bnha 287 #shigaraki tomura #all for one #shimura nana #midoriya izuku #one for all #lil bro when are you gonna get yourself a proper name so I can tag you #himiko toga #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #ofa the first

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aelingalathyniusrailme · 3 years

Text

Gwyn appreciation week-day 7

free day

read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3163402

gwynriel first kiss one shot

Close, she was so damn close. He needed to get a grip, she was not just some random lover who he enjoyed from time to time, this was Gwyn and they were busy.

She lay sprawled on the couch with her feet in his lap and a book in her hand. He had one in his own and together they were researching the history of narben and other powerful swords embedded with magic. Azriel’s eyes were glued to the page but he couldn’t seem to manage more than a few words before a new unwanted thought plagued his mind like a parasite he could not rid himself of. I want to kiss her.

Internally he scolded himself, Gwyn was not his nor would she ever be. He had been present on the worst day of her life, the rage he felt then was unlike the cold ice that ran beneath his skin, ever-present, but a burning fiery hatred fueled by a need he did not understand. He was a living reminder of the trauma that burdened her. Azriel could not blame her if she never wanted to be around another man again, she had been violated in a way that he would not wish on his worst enemies. She likes being around you. The whispers crept up his skin like a cool breeze, the feeling had long since lost its shock, but Azriel still felt the urge to shiver. He watched as a lone shadow darted out and entwined itself in Gwyn’s hair, the smokey blackness contrasting her metallic red hair. Gwyn put her book down, and the broad smile that bloomed on her face stole the air from his lungs. She tipped her head back, letting her pin-straight locks fall across her shoulders, and laughed. Her laugh was a contagious, lovely sound, and Azriel couldn’t help letting out a soft chuckle of his own.

“I like you when you laugh,” Gwyn announced, looking up at him.

“You always like me,” He responded with a quirked brow.

“Yeah well,” she conceded “I like you more when you’re not brooding your ass off.” He feigned mock hurt, putting his hands to his chest like he’d been stabbed. Gwyn rolled her eyes, but he could see her trying to hide her smile. “Drama queen,” she muttered, shaking her head. Not bothering to respond to the rude comment, he pulled the pillow out from underneath him and threw it at her. Gwyn’s eyes widened as it hit her smack in the face, mouth dropping in shock, and he knew immediately he was going to pay for it. That didn’t stop him from grinning at her.

“Come on berdera, better get to reading,” he winked at her, knowing she would see red.

“Okay shadowsinger,” She drawled, “Although,” her silence intentional, “I wouldn’t want you trying to pick a fight you couldn’t win.” The innocence in her tone a stark contrast to the vengeance in her teal eyes.

“Is that a threat, priestess.”

“Oh you’re big boy, I think you can figure it out.” Her smirk was wicked as she picked up the book and began to read. Shit, he wanted to kiss her even more now. Pathetic he was absolutely pathetic. Realizing it was too late to respond, Azriel picked up his own book and began to read. Alright, he thought, point Berdara.

They continued to read, tearing through the pages, a silent challenge in the air. Who would finish first? Every so often, Azriel looked up to see Gwyn immersed in her reading, her determination almost enough to make him forget he was a sitting target, almost. Her legs moved from his lap, and immediately he felt like he was missing something, their weight and warmth gone. Her gaze caught his, and they stayed in silence for a moment, taking each other in.

Finally, Gwyn broke “What?” She tilted her head, looking at him curiously. Point az.

“You’re cute when you read” Azriel wished he could say he didn’t enjoy the blush that flooded Gwyn’s cheeks but he absolutely delighted in it. Point az.

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” Her nose scrunching.

“Oh, I disagree, it’s worked so far.”

“yeah,” Gwyn replied with an amused look. “On who.”

“Well, we both know you’re in love with me so I would assume you.” Fuck, why did he say that? Azriel’s heart was a drum in his chest, his palms began to sweat. This damn girl, 500 years, and this is the girl that has him tripping over his words. It felt like minutes before she answered again even if it had only been seconds.

“Yes, I’m just so damn in love with you.” He could hear the sarcasm dripping in her voice, he could see the way she rolled her eyes, smiling, and yet he couldn’t help the way his breath hitched, or the heat he felt on his neck. “You know I love researching long-lost magical swords as much as the next person,” She put her book down and stretched her arms out behind her. “But I’m getting kind of tire-.” A yawn cut Gwyn off proving her point.

“Well we can’t have that,” He stood up, an idea taking root. He held out a hand to her. With a curious look, she slipped her hand into his, an electric shock ran through them where skin met skin. He shivered, the moment felt so much more intimate than it should have been, an easiness between them. Yet Azriel felt only heat as their gazes met. Gwyn bit her lip.

“Are we going somewhere,” She whispered, not daring to look away.

“I always find that a little adventure is a perfect way to wake yourself up,” forcing himself to keep his voice steady. Their hands still locked together. Gwyn took a step closer, so they were almost touching. He swallowed as her eyes burned into his own. Slowly, ever so slowly he brought his hand to her cheek, and with a whisper of a touch, he tilted her head and brushed away a small piece of dirt. She shuddered and leaned in. Both of their breathing heavy, he should move, this was wrong. But then why did it feel so right? His thoughts vanished, as her eyes lowered to his lips. A quick glance, there and then gone. Everything else forgotten except the feel of her.

At that moment a small thud caused both of them to flinch. Gwyn looked away and Az followed her gaze to the book that had fallen. He dropped his hand and immediately wished he hadn’t. With the noise came a wave washing over them, cooling the heat. Good, he thought, good now he can’t do something he would regret. Azriel just wished he believed himself. Gwyn turned back to him, but her eyes would not meet his. Dammit, he fucking made her uncomfortable. Shit shit shit. His shadows began to whisper, don’t freak out just talk to her. Just talk to her, just talk to her. He could do that, just talk to her. He plastered a teasing grin to his face, “well If I know Gwyneth Berdera, and I do, she is not one to pass up an adventure so, shall we?”

She gave him an awkward smile. He could see the relief in the way her features relaxed, but from what, he wasn’t exactly sure. She took a breath, regaining her composure. “Oh you know I love a good time, but I tend to like to know where I’m going.” Thank the cauldron, Azriel thought, right back into their banter. He didn’t think he could live with himself if she never spoke to him again, and the thought was terrifying.

“It’s a surprise.” Her brows rose as if to say really? “Do you trust me?” the words were out before he realized what he was saying, he wished he could take them back. He desperately needed to know the answer. And shit he still wanted to kiss her.

Without hesitation, Gwyn said “Yes,” Something broke in Azriel, and something else, without meaning to, began to mend.

“Good, then trust that you will love it.”

Gwyn thought it over before deciding “well it must be better than reading about ancient swords.”

“Oh, it will be.” He started to walk towards the door and she followed him, Azriel made sure to keep at least a foot away, but he couldn’t shake the pull, begging him to get closer. Once they were outside, he turned to her and held out his arms.

“So this is a flying trip?”

“I mean unless you would like to winnow, but this is typically my way of transportation.” She rolled her eyes at him but didn’t respond as she wrapped her hands around his neck and he picked her up. So together they flew into the night.

About half an hour later they had reached their destination. Outside of Velaris, but still within the night court, Azriel had brought them to one of the tallest towers he’d ever seen. It was kind of in the middle of nowhere, hidden by lush greenery, framed by mountains and lakes. He had found it a few centuries ago and never shared the information with any of his friends. He loved them dearly, but this always felt like a spot he could go if he needed to leave, to be alone. It also helped that the view was beautiful. But he was looking at Gwyn and saw the exact moment she realized where they were, her eyes lit up, and he could see the challenge in her grasp, one she couldn’t stop until she bested it. “Is this-” Her voice could barely contain her excitement and he loved that he could give her that. He knew in his gut there was no limit to what he would do to make her smile.

“It is,” he confirmed. The library was a myth, a legend said to rival the ones in the day court. Of course, it was more ruins now, but still a sight to behold. “And while I know that you are freaking out, and I am happy to take you back so you can explore the inside, we are here for the roof.” Gwyn gave him a questioning glance but he just winked and shot up the length of the tower to the top. She gave a yelp of surprise, and then a cry of excitement.

Azriel set them down on the roof and looked around. Every time he came back, the memory could not ever compare to the real thing. But he was watching Gwyn as she took it all in. The beauty of it rivaled only by the female in front of him. The land was vast. “Look up,” he said softly, and then she saw the true view. Somehow the stars seemed to hang lower in the sky, they were bigger and brighter. The moon, so close it appeared as if you could reach out to touch it. Colors of purple, blue, and green swirling in an array that stole the breath with no intention of ever giving it back. Azriel didn’t know why you could only see it from the tower but he didn’t care. Gwyn took everything in with a greedy desire like it would disappear if she didn’t. The irony was not lost on him, she looked at the open world the way he knew he looked at her.

Gwyn’s metallic hair lit up against the moon as if it was on fire. “It’s beautiful” Yeah she was. “No, that does not nearly begin to describe it,” she tried to find the words and he waited patiently. “There is this entire world that I have not seen, that I have not experienced. And every little taste I get of it makes me greedy for more, and I am terrified,” she paused, “I am terrified that my past and my own fear will prevent me from seeing everything. I want it all but I do not know if I am brave enough to take the next step”

They stood side by side, both clutching the railing. He gently grabbed her hand and stroked his thumb over their shared tattoo before he spoke.”no challenge has ever been too great for you, because where others give up Gwyneth Berdera, with her stubborn determination has never known when stop.” and that’s what I love about you, he wanted to add, but instead he said “And whether it be tomorrow, a few months, or centuries when you are ready, I will make sure you experience every joy this world has to offer.”

They stood in silence for a couple of moments before she gave him a small smile. “Az?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you bring me here?” why did he bring her here? You know why his shadows answered.

“Because,” He took a deep breath, “Because this place has always been a sanctuary for me, the only place I could go where my head would quiet, where the voices would stop for not even they could mar the beauty of this place.” He swallowed. “I was in love, or what I thought was love, with a female for 500 years, and not even she gave me the ease that being here provided. Not once did I wish to share this place with anyone, the one thing that was mine and only mine.” He turned to Gwyn, “that is until I met you and I didn’t understand it, why being near you made me feel more peace then I have ever felt in 5 centuries. Why the cold icy rage that has always been there only began to thaw in your presence.” He let out a little laugh, “and because there is nothing I wouldn’t do to see you smile.” Gwyn flashed him her broad smile. “That’s the one.” He murmured.

She took a step closer, bridging the gap between them. The view forgotten, there was only Gwyn and Azriel, two souls finding each other in the midst of darkness. He took a step too, meeting her halfway, so close he could feel her breath. Gwyn looked up at him, her gaze full of hope and something else he couldn’t detect. They took each other in, devouring the sight of one another. One moment, one step could change everything.

Moments passed, their breathing heavy before Gwyn said “Az?”

“Yeah?”

“Why won’t you kiss me?”

“Because,” he whispered, “I can’t bear the thought of losing you-” and the look she gave him as if he was the dumbest person in the world.

“Azriel?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” and she took that final step, braved the distance, and pulled his face towards her. Their lips met in a blaze, a kiss that should have been soft and sweet, instead an explosion of heat and passion. Fireworks formed everywhere they touched, her hands lost in his hair, and his own gripped around her waist. She was everything he dreamed and more, a kiss unlike one he’s ever known. Azriel softly bit her lip and the sound she made was enough to make him want to rip apart the world to hear it again. Together, they were unbreakable, a rightness in the air that could not be imagined. Her lips claimed his, with a ferocity of need. Electricity thundered beneath his skin, her kiss igniting something in him he never knew was there. She was his, and he was hers. Mine.

Gwyn finally took a step back, “wow” she whispered and he knew she felt it too. Her skin was flush with a subtle glow and the realization hit him. The thought engraved itself in his brain and heart and soul, and he never knew how he hadn’t seen it before. Mate.

may or may not be continued where gwyn gets revenge

#gwyn appreciation week #gwyneth berdara #gwyn berdara #gwynriel #azriel #I probs should have written this in gwyns perspective #but because I started writing a while ago and finished it for today #it’s in azriels #so enjoy i guess #gwynriel fanfiction #and obviously I added as much banter as possible

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wyn-n-tonic · 3 years

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Golden, Like Daylight -- Part VIII

Word Count: 1,304 Warnings: PTSD. I don't think anything else needs a warning? Message me if I'm wrong though, I'll fix it. Author's Note: Thanks for your patience in getting this chapter out! Last week was difficult and then I had friends come over for the weekend (FRIENDS! AMAZING!). I'm not super proud of this but I'm also proud of this. We're getting to the end of this series and I'm just really... in fucking awe at all the nice things that have been said to me about this. Like, I'm genuinely over the moon and losing my mind every time somebody says something nice to me. Thank you so much for reading!

MASTERLIST | PART: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX

He slaps the passport against Pope’s forehead, starting a long held tradition between the two and he knows this will be the last time as he slowly says, “Nos vemos.”

See you.

The flatness he gives the words lets Santiago Garcia know, as he takes his friend and brother in, if he sees this man again, it will be through exchanged nods at functions for the others.

Santiago steps forward and Frankie embraces him but it’s wrong. It’s all wrong for who they are to each other. Who they were. It’s wooden, the weight of this mission—this mess—adding a new kind of density to the pain he carries. Frankie’s out for the count. For good.

“Cuídate,” he whispers into his friend’s ear.

Take care of yourself.

And he walks away, heading home where he belongs. A place he shouldn’t have left in the first place. Out of all the regrets Santiago has, dragging that man to Colombia might just be one of his biggest.

Leah was right, Santiago is never the one picking up the pieces. —————

He has to knock.

She disabled the doorbell the day they moved in, placing a small sign where delivers and visitors could easily read:

A combat veteran lives here, please knock gently.

She didn’t want any loud, sudden noises to trigger panic attacks. Wanted him to be comfortable in his home.

He didn’t tell her it would be today, wasn’t sure when he’d be able to get a flight out so he didn’t want to get her hopes up. But it had all worked out and he hadn’t had time to call and he doesn’t have his keys.

He didn’t take any identifying information with him. No phone. No keys. No wallet. Just the black tags that now sit heavy against his chest. He slipped them on mid-flight and walked back into the country with them to a quiet, welcome home, soldier from the customs agent. He didn’t even notice as he stamped the little blue book that the name stamped into the metal was completely different.

Frankie scratches his smooth face and stares down at the near bare feet standing firm on the wood of his front porch.

He made it.

He packed light back into the States, dumping his clothes and boots in the trash. All he has now is eight thousand in cash, a couple gifts for the girls and the fake passport he’ll be running through the shredder tonight. He picked up the flip flops at a vendor where he bought some of the shit to stuff with the cash.

Another steadying breath drags through his lungs and he looks around his silent neighborhood, the one Leah insisted on because of its proximity to the base. Illegal to set off fireworks this close to government property.

She shot down every house he found in any other part of the city and he didn’t even know why until the Fourth of July when his back bristled in anxiety waiting for the attacks to take his mind for the night.

Tears well up in his eyes as he finally brings his hand down on the sturdy wood.

She loves me so much more than I deserve. —————

“You stole my goddamn shirt, Francisco Morales,” she mumbles sleepily into his chest.

They haven’t left the couch all night, both his girls with their faces firmly planted into his chest. Their fitful sleep eased by the peace of his beating heart against their ears.

“I brought it back,” he laughs, smoothing her hair back, “but I won’t take it again, baby, I promise.”

And he means it. The only reason he took it to begin with is because she wears it as often as he does, her smell wrapped up in his and he brought it for comfort. But the rain and the saltwater of the sea wiped that scent away and he’s not doing this shit again.

“Because you’re not going anywhere again, right?” There’s a slight panic to the words, no matter how slowly they roll out.

He pulls her closer, “never, mi alma.”

“Good,” she looks up and he breaks all over again at her bloodshot, tired eyes, glassy and searching. Her pain meeting his but unspoken in favor of quiet reunion, his heart breaks because it wasn’t just him almost losing everything on a risky at best plan and he never even stopped to consider it was her everything too.

He saw it when she opened the door and instead of crumbling inwards with their daughter resting against her chest, she opened her arms and let him crumble instead. It was there when she excused herself to the bathroom and when she came back, falling apart in stolen moments of peace and quiet.

“I won’t do this again,” he says, the pad of this thumb sliding across the curve of her cheekbone; skin already raw with tear stains where they’ve run like rivers around her. She breaks into him then, arms tight around his still sore body as she buries her head into his broad chest. He instinctively moves to running his hand through her hair—his large hands turning her to jelly with each brush against her scalp—before he speaks again, adding reassurance to his words.

“And if I didn’t think you’d love it so much, I’d never even want to go back to St. John's.” He stresses that last bit, because it was the least stressful part of it all and still stabbed at him. Pulled at him. Reminded him that he was away. That he did this to his family.

“If you don’t want to be there,” she hiccups, “then I’ll never love it.”

And she means it. —————

Frankie cuts the last box open to begin sorting through the goods shipped home. The system follows that Frankie unloads the boxes, Benny separates the goods and Will counts the money. It’s worked flawlessly over the weekend as everything is accounted for, including the stacks that bought their way back into the country.

“How do we go about this shit anyway?” It's the question that’s been on Frankie’s mind from the jump, hoping he doesn’t find himself in another goddamn mess to maneuver away from.

“We can’t deposi—“

“No shit, William, so what do we do?”

He doesn’t need more crimes on top of all the ones he’s already committed. Money laundering on top of murder. Doesn’t even know where to start and a hundred thousand is hardly something to open a carwash about. He feels a stress settling in as he realizes he didn’t fully think this through.

“Just be smart about it,” comes the younger Miller’s voice, “keep it in the house, use it for groceries and other errands. Anything small that can be paid for cash, pay for it in cash. It adds up so your bank isn’t hit with constant fees, you can use that for the big shit. If you get in a pinch, deposit a couple hundred but never more than that. If you do need more, give cash to a friend and have them transfer it to your account.”

Benny looks up and finds the stunned faces of his brothers, “what? I dated a chick who was really into that Dave Ramsey guy.”

Frankie just continues to look at him in confusion, not expecting any of this information to come from Benny of all people and it seems Will wasn’t either because he follows it up with,

“Who the fuck is Dave Ramsey?”

“You know,” Benny continues to separate the goods into piles to be donated, “he’s that guy who talks about the money, I think that's the best way to go about it. We can’t exactly Breaking Bad this.”

“You're not smart enough to Breaking Bad this,” Frankie tells him.

“Nope,” he smiles, “I'm smarter.”

#frankie morales #francisco 'catfish' morales #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #will miller #benny miller #santiago garcia #santiago 'pope' garcia #william 'ironhead' miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #ofc #oc #original character #original female character

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comfyswitcherblanketfort · 3 years

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A Good Deal

lets not talk about what day it was bogizens... 👀 this is part of the hallmark june weddings event we did in the bog!

it’s also on ao3 here!

Warnings: insecure eskel, stressed triss, honestly its pretty fluffy., could be classified as mild emotional whump.

_____________

Triss was frantic when Eskel trudged up the stairs to the back door in the kitchen. He paused for a moment, leaning against the railing where he could just see her through the window in the door, box braids falling out of her loose bun, some sort of sauce smudged on her forehead, her arm muscles standing out and furiously beating the ever-loving shit out of whatever was in her bowl. Fuck, he thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. A little scary too, but that was his type.

“Afternoon, Gorgeous,” he called through the screen door, waiting for her to unlock it.

Instead of her normal ‘Afternoon, Handsome,’ he got a snappy, “If any bit of your clothing has been at the fire station, take it off out there. I just got the floors clean, and I don’t have time to do them again before the wedding.”

“If you wanted a striptease you could have just asked,” he chuckled, pulling his shirt over his head and kicking his boots off. All of him had just come from the station.

“Eskel, please,” her voice was about an octave higher than when he liked to hear those words normally, and the tightness at the end of her words made him worried.

“I’m clean, ish, can I come in?”

When she let him in she only gave him a quick peck before it was back to what Eskel could now see were egg whites.

“What’s wrong?”

That was apparently the wrong question. Triss dropped the bowl back onto the counter and braced herself against it, hanging her head. Her shoulders looked so tense Eskel thought the muscles might snap, “Fucking everything. Yen’s parents are getting in tomorrow and I only have the middle floor flipped because Annalee called in sick and Taylor is nowhere to be found, and I have to get this breakfast prepped because I have to make sure there’s food for the girls to eat while they get ready. Then I still have to call Jaskier and see when he’s bringing the cake and décor over and I have to run into the store to get the food for the next three days while they’re here and one of Yen’s aunt’s is allergic to everything under the fucking sun! Oh! And I also need to tell Jask to do everything last minute as far as the cake goes because I don’t have the fridge space and-and there’s still a goddamned molehill in the backyard where they’re having the ceremony and-“

Eskel wrapped his arms around her from behind, placing one hand over her sternum and one over her stomach, and held her tight while he whispered, “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll figure it out. Just take a minute to breathe for me?”

She took a shuddering deep breath and let it out as she rested her head back against his chest, brushing a stray braid out of her eyes, “…and I have a headache…”

“That,” Eskel mumbled, pausing to press a kiss to her forehead, “we can fix quickly.” He pulled them over to her medicine cabinet and handed her some ibuprofen and a large glass of water, also insisting she sit and eat something.

After a minute or two of Triss picking at some leftover pasta salad she groaned and shoved it away, “ and my mother called.”

“How’re Sheila and the dogs?”

“Fucking unbearable,” she grumbled, pitching her voice up and scrunching her nose to imitate her mother’s nasally voice, “ When are you settling down? I was so excited when you said wedding! Haven’t you hired an inn manager yet? Why do you still clean rooms? Did you read that diet book I sent you?”

Pushing her pasta back towards her after the last question, Eskel did his best to remain casual and calm, “I thought she hated me?”

“She hates all of my partners on principle, but you’ve made the top spot for ‘least hated’,” Triss shot him a little smirk as she aggressively stabbed some more pasta, “I told her I’m quite settled and we’re happy for now and to get her nose out of other people’s business- yes I see the irony .”

Eskel forced a bit of a laugh and tried not to bite his lip. He’d been thinking about this since Yen and Renfri’s engagement party. The way Triss looked at him while the couple gushed about how they were so excited to spend the rest of their lives together (and torment some relatives with making it official) had settled in the back of his mind and refused to leave. Every day, he flip-flopped on whether there was a little hope there or if she just thought it was sweet. And every day he berated himself for not bringing it up, but he had never even entertained the idea of marriage. Hell, his main relationship had been a friends-with-benefits arrangement with Geralt, and the few before that had been rocky at best. He wasn’t cut out to be a husband. Certainly not to someone so kind and gentle and fiercely loyal and sharp as Triss. What did he have to offer? A dangerous job and nasty burn scars for their wedding photos?

She must have sensed his hesitation and pushed her pasta over to him, “Eat. I need to keep cooking… and clean the top floor.”

He hooked an arm around her waist as she walked around the little kitchen island they sat at, pulling her close and stealing the keys out of her pocket, “I’ll go get groceries after I clean the top floor. Is the laundry started?”

“You’re too good to me, Teddy Bear,” she sighed, placing a kiss on his forehead.

“Not good enough.”

She frowned, resting her palm over his jaw and searching his eyes, “We’ll come back to that when the inn is ready.”

As he stood, he stole a quick kiss and darted up the stairs, “You’re taking a nap when the inn is ready!”

It had all come together in the end. Triss even got some impressed looks and glowing reviews from Yennefer’s family when they arrived. The periwinkle went beautifully with the gardenia Triss had woven through the lattice around the backyard and Eskel had managed to make the moles disappear and patch the grass so even she couldn’t tell where they’d been.

Eskel watched Triss dart around the property, even after her job was done, making sure everyone was comfortable and everything ran smoothly for the girls and as much as he tried to push it down, he was just reminded of how she deserved so much more. More than a scarred, overweight firefighter with a killer therapy bill and a studio apartment that looked more like a hotel room than a home.

As he was watching the different couples swooping around the tiny courtyard dance floor, hands materialized on his shoulders, immediately digging in right where he held tension.

“Now it’s really over,” Triss whispered in his ear.

“Oh? Will you take that nap now?” Eskel shot her a grin over his shoulder as he covered one of her hands with his.

She smiled at him as if he’d said something adorably cute and inaccurate, “I’ll take a dance ?”

Standing up and spinning Triss once before pulling her close to his side, Eskel sighed, “I guess I’ll have to settle for that then.”

Giggling a tad bit deliriously, they made their way onto the dance floor and snuck into a space between the other couples. Eskel did his best to relax and stay in the moment. He took deep breaths and mentally listed little observations about his surroundings, most of which revolved around Triss, and he even tried to distract himself by making some rather suggestive advances, but no matter what he tried, he was still thinking about what she deserved and how it was everything he wasn’t.

Triss rested her hand on his cheek and gave him her trademarked wide-eyed worried look, “Are you alright? Is your knee acting up?”

“M’fine,” he lied, “Just the champagne.”

“Bullshit.”

He should have known she’d call him on it, even in the middle of a wedding she wouldn’t let him get away with anything. Just another reason he wasn’t good enough for her.

Glancing around nervously, Eskel whispered in her ear, “Can we do this later?”

“Absolutely not. You’ve been acting strange for weeks now and it’s making me crazy,” Triss tapped on the point of his chin firmly, calling his attention back to her as they swayed and stepped in a small circle like everyone else.

“Been making me crazy too…” he mumbled, only receiving a furious glare that urged him to continue, “You’re… Triss you’re perfect. I love you more than anything and anyone I’ve ever loved before…”

Tears welled in her eyes as Triss brought them to a standstill, gripping his arms for dear life, “But?”

Eskel couldn’t help tucking her long thin braids behind her ear and caressing her cheek, “But I don’t know why you’re with me. Every time this wedding gets brought up I think about how you deserve someone so much more… whole than I am. Someone who can give you what you want and who doesn’t have a horribly dangerous job and doesn’t look like the Pillsbury doughboy…”

“First off,” Triss started, almost growling as she dragged him off the dance floor and in through the back door to the kitchen, “I thought you were breaking up with me so please lead with what you’re nervous about next time,” Eskel followed, absolutely dumbfounded as he was sat down on a stool like he was in trouble with the principal, “Second, I find your extra weight sexy as hell- no arguments! That is my opinion and it is final . Third- and this one is important- you are the most thoughtful, caring, kind, and gentle person I have ever had the absolute pleasure to share a room with, let alone sleep with. I decided you’re what I wanted a long time ago. No one else has ever told me to take a nap before” she giggled, pausing to hold his face between her hands, “You don’t need to be anything other than you for me to be happy.”

She wiped a tear from his cheek with her knuckles, a fond smile playing on her lips as she drew him in, hugging him tightly so his head rested on her shoulder. His arms wrapped around her waist and squeezed like he was scared she might disappear if he didn’t hold her tight enough.

“Thank you,” He whispered.

“You’re welcome,” Triss whispered back, trailing her nails over his scalp and through his soft hair, “Anytime you need a reminder you tell me. Deal?”

Eskel sniffed and pulled himself back together, leaning back to give Triss a quick kiss, “Deal.”

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the-lady-writes-what · 3 years

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Commission #2

I am so sorry @patchworkpuzzle that this took so long. There was a lot going on this month with family drama, work, school, and just...a lot of shit. I hope you like it.

Characters: Incubus/Demon! Sero Hanto x Fem! Reader

Contents: dub-con/non con, groping, fingering, overstimulation, mentions cervix, one spank

As always. I don’t write teenage characters. Sero Hanta is aged up and not even human. Also, minors DNI.

You meandered through the collection piled unto a table. The sun beat down on your neck. A bead of sweat dripped down the side of your face. Still, you couldn't resist a garage sale. In your arms, you already snagged some excellent finds, a couple of rare books, and a teacup. There was, however, one item that stole your attention away from everything else. No matter where you looked, your eyes were drawn to an ornate box. It was a round box made of silver filigree. Its three legs were shaped into lion's feet, claws included. Faces of animals, gargoyles, and twisted vines decorated the outside. You set aside your goodies to get a closer look at the trinket. When you picked it up, your first thought was, 'How odd.' It was hot outside, and you felt sweat running down your back beneath your shirt. And yet, the trinket box was cool to the touch. You remember as a kid scorching your hand on playground equipment when it got too hot during the summer, but you were able to pick up the box and examine it without issue. The filigree was unique, if not a little frightening. There was neither a lock nor a latch to seal it closed. You lifted the lid, and it creaked on its hinge. Inside, a mirror was affixed to the bottom of the cover. The trinket box held nothing but a velvet lining and a single ornate ring with a black and yellow gemstone. You set down the box to pull out the ring. There was no price tag on the ring, only on the trinket box. You quickly looked around, but the granddaughter running the sale didn't see you put the ring back. Sneaky as it was, you walked up with the trinket box in hand and everything else discarded. You thumbed the sides of the box almost lovingly. Then, you cradled it close to your chest like it was the most precious thing in the world. When the granddaughter finally finished with her other customer, you brought the trinket box with you. "How much for this?" You ask. "Fifty bu—" "No!" Heads turned towards the voice. Everyone looked to see an elderly lady hobbling out of the house in her bedclothes and her cane. Her face appeared red. Customers and neighbors got out of her way as she staggered towards her granddaughter. "Don't you dare!" The old woman shouted. "Don't you dare sell that! It's mine. Give it back!" She reached towards you to take the trinket box, but you were so shocked that you stepped out of her grasp. Her reaction just made you hold onto the box even tighter. "Gran, you need to get back into bed," her granddaughter scolded. "You can't sell that box. It's mine! Give it back!" The granddaughter, frustrated, turned towards you. "Forty dollars to get it out of here." She offered. "No!" The grandmother shouted. You had half a mind to give it back out of pity. The granddaughter had to physically restrain the woman to keep her from pouncing on you. The older woman's eyes were fixed on the box, grasping at air, trying to reach it. A deep possessive thought crossed your mind. A shudder ran down your spine because of it, but there was no way you were going to turn over the box to some senile old woman. You reached into your purse for your wallet while cradling the box to your chest. You hastily drew out forty dollars, at least what you thought was forty dollars, and briskly walked away. You were walking to your car when you heard the old woman wailing. There was a pinch of regret pricking your heart, but it was somehow easy to forget all about her. You could barely hear her granddaughter say in return, "You know we had to get rid of it."

Your new trinket found a home on your vanity in your bedroom. You couldn't help but glance at it while you relaxed after dinner. You washed your face, brushed your teeth, and slinked off to bed in a silken nightgown. It was starting to drive you crazy how often you looked at the box just sitting there on your vanity. Before climbing under the sheets, you snatched the trinket and placed it on your bedside table. You laid in bed, pulled the covers up, and reached for the cord to turn off your lamp. Your hand grazed against the box, then you stopped. 'Put me on.' You didn't look around the room. A little voice inside your head urged you to open the box again and look inside. And so, you did. The lid creaked open. The bejeweled ring still lay inside. Not knowing what urged you to slip it on your finger, you put it on anyway. You held your hand up to see the ring on your ring finger. Its color dazzled you. However, you couldn't help but be curious about one thing. When looking at the ring in its box, it looked much more prominent. When you were pulling it on, it certainly felt bigger. Now, it snugly fits around your left ring finger. You didn't at all question it when you finally turned off the light and pulled the blankets up to your neck. You turned to your right side so you could see the yellow and black stone shine in the moonlight. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep, which was odd because of how often you laid in bed and stare at the ceiling. Tonight, though, your eyelids fluttered shut after a short while. A weight settled over you like a thick blanket. Unbeknownst to you, the sweet dreamer, a finger protruded from the empty space where the ring once was enthroned. A spindly, spider-like finger stabbed through the air. Despite the box's size, four more fingers appeared, rising like a mountain from a black sea. Soon, a hand emerged, then an arm. A bone-white shoulder arose next. Following, a neck. A human head appeared with short black hair, a triangular mouth set with teeth like stakes, and two bronze horns. Gold and black spiraled around the horns on top of its head, cresting out of the impossibly small crevice. Finally, a whole body emerged out of the silver trinket box. It clattered off the bedside table at the taloned feet of the one it imprisoned. Sharp black eyes stared down at your slumbering form and licked its lips. For a while, the thing stared. It stood by your bed and toyed with the blanket, protecting you from the cold and from him. However, the blanket was useless to hide your form from his penetrating gaze. He could see right through it and through your flimsy nightgown. He made out the shape of your body, all of its curves and edges, dips and scars. A clawed finger caressed your cheek as he waited for the timing to be just right. Midnight struck after he waited by your bedside, slowly driving himself mad. Finally, when the hour struck, the creature crawled into bed with you. He pulled the blankets and sheets away from your body. You were so sound asleep that you didn't even flinch. But he chuckled to himself. It was no ordinary sleep. His power lulled you into a false slumber so his plans could fall into place. Without the blanket to cover you, he crawled up to you. His long arms snaked around your waist and under your chest. He was naked from head to toe. His cock poked the small of your back as he began humping you. The flimsy garment of yours and your tiny shorts was like nothing once his advances began. The thick fog in your mind lifted, and your eyes fluttered open. You found two long arms wrapped around your torso. Something long and hard was poking you in the back as a body snapped its hips against your ass. Your first instinct was to scream or claw at the arms pinning to an unknown man's chest. You couldn't bring yourself to yell for help or fight back at all. Your heart was racing as fast as your mind. A growing sensation built up in your lower belly. You could feel yourself clench down there around nothing and something slick grow between your legs. A whimper ripped from your throat as the man humped you from behind. "Ah, I see you're finally awake. I was wondering why my spell was taking so long," said he. "S-Spell? What…spell?" Words could barely form in your brain, let alone leave your mouth. Tingles ran up your spine. Suddenly, he stopped. The arms that trapped you loosened and fell away. Just when you thought you could book it for the door, you were forcibly turned onto your back where pitch-black eyes met yours. You gasped in horror at the odd mouth smiling down at you, and even more so because of the sharpness. They were something out of 'IT.' Black hair fell around bronze horns. Any thoughts about screaming were thrown right out of the window. "Sero," he said. "What?" Your brows furrowed. What was he trying to say now? Something in a foreign language, perhaps. "My name. My true name is incomprehensible to you humans, and trying to pronounce it would cause you to go insane, so this is the name I go by while I'm free. You will call me Sero, won't you?" "W-Why should I?" You growled. Your hands snatched his arms, and you pierced him with your nails. But the skin did not break, it did not streak, it did not even a single red mark when you dragged your fingernails across his skin. You only felt corded muscles tighten. Sero groaned at your protest and bit his lower lip. It sank into you that he liked it. Any fighting back would have the same result; it would just turn him on more. You glanced down the length of his body just to see what you were dealing with. Horns, sharp teeth, pointed ears, talons, and a cock that would split any woman in two. He was no mere mortal. "Because the more you say my name while I fuck you, the more power you give me. So, shall we get started?" He asked with a menacing grin. You opened your mouth to protest, only to be tugged and forced onto your knees on your mattress. The demon Sero sat behind you, muscled chest firmly against your back. He licked and nibbled on your neck and shoulders, even kissed your earlobes. Your knees shook as his large hands maneuvered up and down your body. He grasped your thighs, hips, and waist. Sero trailed one hand up your ribs while he places the other on your neck. He didn't choke you but merely kept his hand there—a power move. The hand not holding your neck moved up your body and stopped at your chest. Sero groped each breast and trailed his hand back down. Finally, he moved his hand from your neck and grasped your breast. He tweaked your nipple through the nightgown while he roamed down your front. Boney fingers found their way through your clothes, into your shorts, and flicked your clit. Teeth tugged the straps off your shoulders. Sero played with your clit and breast to distract you from the fact that he was humping you again. "Kiss me," he ordered. You turned your head to meet his. You kissed him, head-heavy. Warmth continued to grow in your stomach and spread like a virus. Somehow, your shorts disappeared, but your nightgown did not. Sero's fingers sank into your wet sheath, growing wetter by the second. Sero released you from the kiss that all but drained you. "Do you hear that?" He asked. You tried to listen for a sound yet heard nothing. "Don't you hear how wet your cunny is for me? Your body is making such lewd noises just for me, and I've barely even touched you. Wanna ride my fingers, sweetheart?" Before you could answer, Sero pumped his fingers inside. The burn that came from three fingers plowing into you made you cry out. Your hips moved of their own accord. They moved up and down to match the tempo of the fingers already reaching deep into your cunt. He whispered dirty sweet nothings in your ear about how wet you were for him and how your whimpers were music to his ears. You didn't even notice the sounds you were making. But you did when you screamed after riding his fingers buried inside your cunt. You came down hard. Your orgasm ripped down your spine like a rocket. You coated his whole hand in your fluids, and it splashed all over your inner thighs and soaked our sheets. Sero brought his three fingers to his mouth and licked them clean. "Now that you're well-prepped—" Sero yanked down your nightgown until it bunched around your waist. You realized that something happened to your shorts you'd been wearing underneath but don't remember when he took them off. Sero pushed open your folds with his fingers again and stretched you open. He ripped a breathy moan from you as he pushed you forward and teased your cunt with slow pumps of his fingers. He adjusted your legs so that they were spread painfully apart. He lifted your hips high in the air and made sure that your face was firmly planted into the mattress. "Normally, I'd romance you a bit more, but I've been stuck in that box for sixty years. I have a lot of pent-up energy. Please forgive and excuse my eagerness." His eagerness came with an extra package. You clawed at your bed to the point of ripping the fabric as the blunt head entered, followed by the long, stiff shaft. Sero pushed it in slowly to make sure you realized just how many inches were going to be buried in your cunt. Sero's cock was so long that it hit your cervix by the time he bottomed out. You wailed and bit into your sheets and clenched them between your teeth. Sero grabbed your hips and started to move. Skin clapping against each other loud enough to fill the room and your senses. Your body shuddered with every thrust. Every time Sero moved his cock inside of you, the impact sent ripples through your flesh. He was as gentle as a demon could be after spending decades locked up in a box. Your pussy became acclimated to his size, or you ignored the feeling altogether. You were only half-aware of the screams he elicited from you. Soon, he grabbed your wrists, pulled them behind your back, and held them there with one hand. Your fingers clenched and unclenched around nothing while Sero continued to drive you mad with his cock. Surrender was coming your way as soon as you realized that your hips moving in tandem with Sero's. Your toes curled, and so too did your fingers. A white-hot-searing sensation built up and up and up all along your spine. Pleasure formed in your brain until it shot down your nervous system straight to your cunt. Your walls cinched around his cock. Sero's hand came down on your ass, causing another ripple of pleasure to course through your brain. That was the first of many orgasms. Sero had the stamina of a hundred men and continued until early dawn began creeping through the window. There was no cum seeping out of your abused cunt when you woke up, still laying face down in the mattress. You moaned loudly as you urged your legs to move out of their stretched position. You stumbled to your vanity to look at your reflection in the mirror. Your nightgown was still bunched around your waist. Meanwhile, teeth marks and hickies reminded you of the late-night activities that likely caused the dark circles under your eyes. Your hair was a tangled mess and around your wrists cuff-like bruises that could have only been made by someone gripping you too tight. Your eyes immediately go for the trinket box on your bedside table. Except it wasn't there.

#my hero acadmia #mha #my hero academia fanfiction #mha fanfiction #mha smut #tw: toxic relationship #tw dub con #tw noncon #demon!sero #incubus!Sero #fem reader #he's 18+#18+ only #Minors begone #minors dni #minors do not interact #comissions #commission entry

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elsinore-rose · 4 years

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So much love right now, so much love for all the amazing widojest pouring out in front of me. I want all the WIPs, all of them, but I can only pick one, so Imma jump on the bandwagon with another request for the five things jester hates 🧡💙 it’s such a fresh take on a writing style for me and I love it and need more

you’re lucky, it’s the last part i wrote before the muse left me!

Jester hates Caleb’s caution.

Not all the time. He isn’t even that cautious all the time — there are moments, exhilarating moments, when he throws his good sense to the wind and joins in with whatever chaos Jester and Nott have cooked up, and everything goes to hell, and it’s amazing. Yeah, sure, it usually ends with someone bleeding or in prison or banned from a library (or a city, or a country), but it’s worth it every time. Every time, at least once, Caleb has laughed.

And sometimes his caution is good. Sometimes it’s comforting, how he takes the time to make sure that their plans are thoroughly talked out, how he considers every aspect of each potential course, calculating the risks and weighing the rewards. It makes Jester feel safe, like there’s at least one person in the room who can be counted on to have a handle on things. Caleb is reliable, he’s steady. She trusts him. If he says something won’t work, it’s too dangerous, they don’t have time, it isn’t worth it — well, he’s a genius, he’s probably right.

Most of the time.

He’s grabbing onto her wrist hard, and the rest of the Mighty Nein are watching, and Jester’s cheeks burn with embarrassment and anger. “Do you have a death wish?” Caleb hisses at her, his eyes dark with fury. “Did you stop to think? Do you ever stop to think, Jester?!”

She wrenches her arm out of his grasp. She’s still stronger than him, even if adrenaline has heightened his reflexes. “It was fine.”

“You could have been killed.” Caleb steps closer and his voice is like a wildfire, unbearable and uncontrolled. “And none of us would have known. We would not have known where to find you, Jester — ”

“Well I wasn’t killed!” she snaps. God, she can feel their stares, Fjord and Beau and Caduceus and Nott, and she wishes they would just fucking leave, or that one of them would step in and defend her so she’s not alone facing Caleb’s disapproval, his disappointment. “I had my invisibility, and Dimension Door, and the only reason anyone even knew I was there was because there was a stupid alarm spell on one of the doors — ”

“Which I could have warned you would be there because I know the Cerberus Assembly, Jester, I know how they operate, and you should have talked to me!” Caleb shouts these last words, and Jester hopes he feels a stab of guilt at the way she instinctively flinches back. “Talked to any of us, instead of sneaking into the archives, alone, to — what, paint a dick on the wall? Leave behind one of your — ” He waves his hand helplessly at nothing — “Statues? Pamphlets? Was that really worth it?”

“That’s not why I went.” There are hot, bitter tears welling up in Jester’s eyes — she’s always been an angry crier and it’s humiliating, it just makes her feel weaker as she grabs the small cylindrical leather case from her belt and shoves it into Caleb’s hands. “I stole this. You’re welcome.”

She watches his expression turn from outrage to bewilderment as he stares at the case he’s now holding, as he slowly opens it with shaking fingers and pulls out the scroll of True Seeing. Nott scurries over and tries to get a look at it too — Fjord and Beau move closer as well, and great, at least now everyone’s attention is on something other than Jester. Not usually the way she likes things, but right now? This suits her just fine.

Fjord gives a low whistle as he peers over Caleb’s shoulder. “That looks...complicated. And expensive.”

Caleb snaps the scroll case shut. His expression has hardened again. “I am tempted,” he says to Jester, his voice tightly controlled, “to burn this.” He’s holding up the scroll case in front of her with a white-knuckle grip. “The only reason I am not going to is because then the risk that you took would be worth nothing.”

Jester stares at him. “I stole that for you. To...help everyone, that’s a really powerful spell, Cayleb, don’t you want — ”

“It is not worth your death.” He tries to hand it back to her, and when she doesn’t move to take it he grabs her hand and presses the case into her palm, wraps her fingers around it himself. “Do you hear me? Do not do this again.”

“I’m not a child.” Jester’s breath is coming short and ragged and a few exasperated tears have made their way down onto her cheeks. Caleb has not let go of her hand. “Don’t talk to me like that. Learn the stupid spell and put it in your book and use it. That’s what you care about, right?”

She sees a flash of hurt in Caleb’s eyes. His grip on her hand goes slack. “I care about keeping you safe,” he says, and she can hear the desperate anger trying to make itself heard in his voice but it just comes out as a broken murmur. “All of you.” Caleb doesn’t take his eyes off Jester’s. “That is the only thing that matters. I would rather — ”

The words die in his throat. He swallows hard, and finally lets go of Jester’s hand.

“Rather what?” she asks, heart pounding, indignant and guilty and flustered all at once.

Caleb shakes his head and turns away, and as he walks off Jester hears him mutter, “No magic is worth losing the ones you love.”

She hates him. She hates how he makes her feel like this, like she personally has added to the weight he carries at all times on those thin shoulders of his, like she has somehow compounded his sins. She hates that he knows that cost, that loss, the hollow savor of power at the price of dear lives. She hates that he has a goddamn reason to be careful.

That night she leaves the scroll on his bedside table, along with an apple and a note. I promise to tell you next time. — Jester

It will have to be enough for now. Danger is in her blood, and she will not stop running into dark places to steal treasures for her friends. But Caleb is right: she doesn’t have to run alone.

#widojest #taelonsamada

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mollygetssherlockcoffee · 4 years

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No More Countdowns

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: (Five Minutes, Part 6!) The countdown is over

Warning: None, I think!

Words: 1,755

A/N: This is, potentially, the last part. However, if you want another, let me know!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Master List HERE! Permanent Tag List HERE!

A continuous beeping roused you. The noise, though not loud, pierced your skull. It was a repeated noise, one that wouldn’t stop, and that is what frustrated you. You were tired and your body ached, you just wanted to go to sleep. In the second between each beep, your mind seemed to lull before being roused again.

You weren’t going to get any rest.

Instead, you open your eyes, only to immediately close them when the harsh lighting burns. You let out a quiet moan before opening your eyes again, blinking against the harsh light in an attempt to get your eyes to adjust.

Slowly, everything comes into focus and you can see again. The ceiling above you is a clear white and when you looked to your side, there’s a window where you can see the blue sky. It was an incredible sight to see and you couldn’t help the emotion climbing through your chest. Your breath stuttered, and then you were releasing gentle sobs as you stared at the sky.

Part of your mind said that you were reacting stupidly, but you ignored it. You never thought you would never see the sky again. You would prefer to be outside and seeing it, with a gentle breeze blowing through your hair, but this was a sight you were grateful for.

You had thought that you would never see the sky again, only the cold, grey concrete. But there it was, just outside the window, fluffy white clouds floating by. You had never taken the time to look at the sky before but now, laying there, it was so beautiful.

“Y/N, you’re awake. You’re crying!” a voice said, catching your attention and pulling your gaze from the window. “Are you in pain? Shall I get a doctor?”

“Its okay, I’m okay” you assured Penelope, giving her a watery smile. “I never thought I’d see the sky again… or you.”

Your arm is heavy, but you reach towards her. Her own hand quickly darts for your own, grasping it tightly and rubbing her thumb over the back. Its so good to see her. Though her eyes were red from tears, she still radiated light. Seeing her sent a surge of warmth through you and your tears came down faster.

“I’m so glad you’re here” you told her, squeezing her hand with as much strength as you could.

“Of course, I’m here!” she shook her head, as if you thinking otherwise was ridiculous. “The others would be here too, but Hotch made them go, especially Reid. He was so worried about you, Y/N, you should have seen him. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

“What are you doing here then?” you ask her, your eyebrows furrowed.

“I couldn’t leave you on your own. Plus, someone has to keep everyone else up-to-date” she replied. “Actually, Reid and Morgan wanted to stay with you too but Hotch ordered them out…”

“mmm” you murmured. You shifted slightly, finding a more comfortable spot on the hard hospital bed but let out a groan when a jolt of pain shoots through your chest.

“What are you doing? Stop” Penelope orders, hoping to her feet to readjust you and alleviate the pain.

“What was verdict?” you question, sighing as you relaxed into the pillows which now supported your neck better.

“You’re lucky to be here. The knife hit bone, deflecting from your heart” she replied, her voice quiet as she didn’t want to scare you. “They said you’re going to be okay though, so…that’s good!”

“How long was I gone for, how long did he have me?” you questioned. “What happened to him?”

“He’s gone, Hotch shot him after he stabbed you” she told you gently. “He had you for two days.”

“Two days?!” your eyebrows flew up, your voice raising. “He had me for two days? It only felt like a few hours…”

“I’m sorry it took so long to get you out” she apologised.

“Its okay” you told her.

You give her a tired smile, squeezing her hand when she sniffled. Penelope was such a gentle soul. She was the heart of the team, she cared for you all with more love than you thought it was possible for one person to have. Of course, Penelope would be here when you woke up. She was there for everyone’s awakening when they had stint in the hospital.

When you wake up next, you’re not as annoyed at the beeping. It showed that you were alive, how could you be annoyed at that? You laid with your eyes closed for a few more minutes, breathing in the sterile air which, while unpleasant, was a gift in itself.

Upon finally opening your eyes, you see Spencer. He sits slouched in the hospital chair, his left ankle resting on his right knee. His right arm holds up a book, eyes scanning the pages with his usual speed, while his left elbow sits on the arm of his chair, his finger pressed against his lips. He hadn’t noticed you yet and you took the time to take him in properly.

There was a reason why Derek called Spencer ‘Pretty Boy’. He fit the nickname perfectly with dark eyes, high cheekbones, and a jaw line which you could cut yourself on. His long hair, which he had grown out and cut a lot through out the years, was tucked behind his ears.

You had been sure that you were going to die, that you’d never see him again. The relief that rushed through your chest stole your breath away. Spencer was here, in front of you. You wanted to reach out for him, to hold his hand and to confess your deepest secret but you couldn’t.

He looked so lovely sitting in that horrid green waiting chair. You had always enjoyed watching him read, you found it amusing how quickly he could get through a book. He would never just skim the pages, though that’s what most people thought he did, but he’d get fully invested and distracted from the world around him. You couldn’t blame him; the pages of his book were no doubt better than the world around him.

It didn’t take him long to finish the book. He closed it with a sigh, scrunching his eyes shut and running his hand over his face. If the large yawn was anything to go by, he was tired.

“Someone hasn’t been sleeping” you observed, your voice dry and raspy.

“Oh, hey, you’re awake!” he smiled, quickly reaching for the water on the bedside table. You smiled gratefully, taking small sips as he continued to talk. “Hotch banned me from the hospital last night, so I got a few hours. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up before.”

“It’s okay” you reassure him with a smile. “You’re here now.”

Your hand took him, your fingers slotting together with his. It felt so good to touch him, to feel his skin against your own. Your hand tingled, electricity travelling up your arm in a pleasant way. You had missed him in the two days you had been gone.

“You saved me; you know” you smiled gently at him. “There was a maze… I didn’t know how I was going to solve it but then I remembered Halloween.”

“Right hand?” he asked, leaning towards you.

“Right hand” you confirmed. “I also had to pick a lock… I remember you teaching me how to do it with hair grips.”

It was quiet for a moment before he sniffled, “I’m sorry I didn’t come over to yours, or that I didn’t meet you. I’m sorry we didn’t get to you earlier, before he did… this” he indicated your injuries, looking you over sadly.

“Its not your fault Spence, none of it is” you assured him. “I was scared, you know. Not of dying, well actually it was of dying, but there was something else… I was scared I’d never see you again.”

His eyes softened and he seemed to melt at your words. Spencer was often an awkward man who didn’t know how to express his emotions but you could always read his expressions. A little smile pulled at the corner of his lips as he watched you, his thumb rubbing over the back of your hand.

“I-” he coughed, clearing his throat. His voice was a little higher in pitch when he next spoke, indicating his nerves. “I was scared too. I was scared that I, that we, would never get you back. Those two days… it felt like forever and… I hated it.”

“You have me back, now” you told him, squeezing his hand. “I… I have to tell you something though.” “Okay” he nodded, leaning forward to listen to you.

“When I was in there, when I thought I wasn’t going to make it out, I realised that if I died, my feelings would die with me. They would disappear without ever being acknowledged” you began slowly. You paused, taking a moment to draw in a deep breath. “I… I like you, Spencer. In fact, I think I’m in love with you.”

Spencer stared at you, his pretty pink lips open in disbelief. It was as if he was struggling to understand what you had said to him. It was okay, you told yourself, that he reacted in such a way. Finding out your best-friend liked you would be a shock one would not be prepared for.

Though your heart wanted to believe otherwise, your mind told you that Spencer didn’t feel the same about you. That’s okay too. He didn’t have to reciprocate your feelings. You just hoped that he would still want to be your friend after finding out.

You had to tell him how you felt. Being so close to death, it made you realise how many things you hadn’t done because you were scared. This was one of those things, telling Spencer your feelings. It was probably the biggest thing, the one you were most scared of. However, you couldn’t keep it to yourself. It was worth the risk of total rejection. Tell him, it felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest.

“I like you too. In fact, I think I’m in love with you” he repeats with a gentle smile.

He leans forward, gently placing a kiss on your cheek. This doesn’t need to be rushed, there was no countdown anymore. You both had time to explore your relationship together, and you looked forward to it.

A/N: This is, potentially, the last chapter. However, if you do want me, let me know and I might whip something up.

Permanent Tag List: @sskhair @sammypotato67 @spencerreids-wife @yoongi-holland @bucky-babygirl @youareperrrfectls @alexxcorona113 @tired-draculina @rachelxwayne @itsmoony

Five Minutes Tag List: @you-got-me-starry-eyed @kkoch-pdf @yourlocalnorah @mandapanda8 @gia-kerks @hailmaryyramliah @reidsmyhusband-emilysmymistress @mailikestruecrimetoomuch @fandomgirl17 @eldahae @kianagilder-blog @ilovecriminalmindswithallmyheart @loki-an-idiot @cevxns @andiebeaword @thatsonezesty13 @peaxhyjaes @mydoctorwho13 @yorkeylover @spencerslatte @matthewreid @dreamimes @zozoleesi @mbowles23-blog @itlittlefangirl @snitchthewitch @koc-help @davnwillcome

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #spencer x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #penelope garcia #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #cm #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

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19red · 3 years

Text

hello, this is me trying to strong-arm my brain into stopping the constant tweaking and re-tweaking of the same stinking 3k so I can write on and get to the good parts of this project namely p and j having all the sex thank you very much

The day after Patrick and Jonny bang a chick together, Patrick wakes to the weight of an alien limb squashing his bladder. The alien limb belongs to a furnace-hot, tentacular mass plastered all along his back. The mass smells oddly familiar, kind of citrusy—as if it stole Jonny’s body wash.

Patrick squints his eyes open. A blade of sunlight filters through the half-drawn curtains and stabs him in the face. Right under the window, Jonny’s suitcase dribbles clothes onto the floor.

It shouldn’t be hard to put two and two together, but Patrick’s really dumb first thing in the morning. Plus, he needs to pee. Bad. Which is pretty distracting.

He paws at the tentacle swung over his waist, fingers catching on—a beaded string. Did the alien mass steal Jonny’s bracelet too? Patrick struggles to lift his head. He wants to see.

The alien mass stole Jonny’s whole arm. What--?

A growl spills in a damp, ticklish huff into the crook of Patrick’s neck as the mass coils itself closer. Something hard pokes Patrick’s ass. His nostrils fill with a waft of scent his hindbrain understands as so viscerally Jonny that recognition smacks him dizzy.

The mass is Jonny. Last night, he and Patrick banged a chick together. That thing wedged between them, growing firmer by the second? That thing is Jonny’s—

Patrick’s heart plummets straight to his dick.

It’s okay. It’s whatever. Patrick isn’t gonna freak over a physiological response. Bodies are also really dumb first thing in the morning.

“Jonny,” he says, wriggling to catch Jonny’s attention. Jonny has always been his go-to guy in a crisis. Except, in this instance, he is also the crisis itself. Jonny’s hips buck forward once, twice—Patrick stops breathing for the handful of seconds it takes Jonny’s sleep-drenched, horny-ass body to lose interest and stutter back into relative stillness.

Fuck, Patrick thinks. Visions of impending awkwardness swarm his brain. If Jonny were to wake up right now, full-mast boner pressed to Patrick’s ass, and discover the tent pitched in the front of Patrick’s sweats, he might rush to conclusions. Their ability to make direct eye contact would definitely endure permanent damage. They’d have to restructure their life with the aim of reciprocal avoidance. Patrick would have to request a trade. Jonny would probably drop out of the NHL. He’d forsake hockey and society at large and end up trampled to death by a giant moose while he hides from Patrick in the Canadian wilderness.

Fuck, Patrick thinks again. When a whole minute drips away and Jonny doesn’t stir, he thanks the hockey gods. With very little, very slow movements, he dislodges the arm pinning him to the mattress. By the times he’s free, the light slanting in from the window changed the angle of its assault to his pupils. Still careful, he slides the covers off himself, sits up, swings his legs off the bed. His feet land on the floor just as a variation in the pattern of Jonny’s breathing alerts him it’s all been for nothing. Jonny is awake. Or, like, as close to awake as Jonny manages to be coffee-free and before noon. Which is not much, thank fuck.

“It’s early,” Patrick reassures him. Jonny gets real pissy when he doesn’t get his full eight hours. Patrick doesn’t want to get stuck with Captain seriously cranky and his legitimately lethal death glare on the flight back to Chicago.

Jonny hums, lids fluttering open and back closed immediately, dark lashes kissing the top of his cheekbones. Patrick expects him to just roll over and sink back deep into snoring, the man is easy like that, instead he plumps an arm over the empty space next to him and mumbles, “Come back,” so low Patrick feels the vibration of it in his belly more than with his ears. Jonny must think Patrick’s some chick, maybe his ex or the one from last night.

“Dude,” Patrick chuckles to clear his throat. This is prime chirp material. Jonny’s such a clingy loser. “It’s just me.”

The side of Jonny’s mouth that isn’t squashed into the pillow tugs up in a smile, then his eyes tremble open, searching the space in front of them for Patrick’s, as if he knew where to find him, as if he weren’t surprised. It’s a bit like being punched but with weird, devastating gentleness. Patrick’s left breathless and dazed, a slow ache spreading below his ribs. “Sorry,” he says, legs moving on their own accord. “Sorry, gotta piss.”

Jonny flops onto his belly and sprawls across Patrick’s side of the bed. With a sigh, he hugs Patrick’s pillow to his face. “Be quick,” he whines—or maybe not. It’s muffled and Patrick is already halfway out the door so he can’t be sure. It doesn’t really matter.

***

“Where’s Tazer?” Duncs asks in lieu of good morning when Patrick shows up at breakfast almost two hours later, no captain in tow.

Patrick chomps on a hunk of strawberry toast and shrugs. Contrary to popular belief, no clause in his contract bids him constant awareness of Jonny’s whereabouts.

Duncs squints, clearly feeling entitled to a degree of eloquence involving efforts of the verbal variety and resenting their lack.

“Don’t tell me he’s sick,” Shawzy says.

The legs of Stromer’s chair screech against the floor as he scoots away from Patrick. He ends up almost in Brinsky’s lap. “It better not be catching.”

“Oh my god,” Patrick puffs the words fat with annoyance. “He’s sleeping. I mean, I guess he...” He is for sure. No chance Jonny is still waiting. If Patrick barged back into his room right now, Jonny would laugh, would tell him to stop trying to make things weird. Patrick knows this rationally. Yet some spiked grip squeezes his insides with the same vicious strength of an anaconda trying to crush itself a snack.

People can’t die from upset conscience, can they? Especially not if the upset is unquestionably misplaced, right?

“I mean,” Patrick snaps after a second, “the fuck do I know.”

Duncs eyebrows shoot halfway across his forehead.

“Whoa,” Stromer gasps.

“Wait,” Shawzy says. “Are mum and dad fighting?”

Patrick grinds his molars. Everyone’s so fucking pressed. It’s not like Jonny is a regular at team breakfasts. In fact, unless attendance is mandatory, Jonny prefers to limit the number of people upon which he inflicts the ghastly spectacle of his slow de-zombification to a minimum.

Patrick casts his mind back to the last time the two of them didn’t resort to room-service during game trips. He dredges up both no recollection of that happening in years and the stomach-sinking hunch that maybe this is weird. Maybe he should have gone back. Maybe that would have been the normal thing to do.

“Shut up,” he says, to the voice in his head and everyone else. He grabs a pitcher of coffee and fills his cup until it brims. “Don’t talk to me. I’m waking up.”

“He’s rubbed off on you,” Shawzy appraises.

He’s more right than he’d probably care to know—nope. Patrick yanks his thoughts away before they can trip over that precipice and splat into the phantom embrace of Jonny’s body and its heft, its warmth, its neediness.

“Shut up,” he repeats, and with big emphatic motions designed to put a period on the conversation, he whips out his phone. He trusts the mindless scrolling will work its time-warping, mind-numbing magic and when he’ll look up next, all the weird will have been purged from this day.

Between sips of coffee, he pores through the stats for the last game, skims the emails in his inbox and rage-reads a review trashing the new Twilight book. He considers sending the link to Erica so he can vent about the snobby assholes who think they’re smarter than everyone else just because all the books they read are boring as fuck, but she’s probably at work already. He scrolls through his contacts. The one of the chick from last night jumps out. Her name’s Chelsea, which is pretty lucky. She was hot, Patrick recons, and thinking that feels normal. Feels safe. Feels like something Patrick would love to feel more of, thank you very much.

Hi, he types, riding the spur of the moment. This is Patrick from last night.

Stupid and risky, his inner Jonny warns. Never give your number to one night stands. Patrick ignores him and for the sake of clarity and glory, adds, The one who made you see god with his tongue.

“Look who’s joining us,” Shawzy’s voice announces just then.

Patrick’s gaze springs up, landing squarely across Jonny’s chest. Patrick knows it’s Jonny’s chest even though he doesn’t let his gaze climb up to the face attached to it for confirmation. The chest is sailing across the breakfast hall toward Patrick. Well, not toward Patrick specifically. Toward Patrick and the rest of the guys.

“Morning,” Jonny mumbles, dropping his scrambled eggs on the table and his ass between Seabs and Crow.

Patrick’s phone chimes.

well hello patrick 😜

“Slept well?” Shawzy probes, feigning innocence. Patrick’s hackles rise.

“I guess,” Jonny says.

Patrick allows himself another quick glance. Jonny looks good, which means like his usual self, which means nothing like a dude who went through the transformative experience of witnessing his best friend o-face. It’s kind of annoying, actually. Patrick’s nerves are all fried. He’s half-convinced in the right light anybody could look at him and simply—tell. Patrick Kane got off with another dude in the room and enjoyed it. For a blink he’s fourteen and trying to fight a guy almost double his size who called him a cocksucker, that slammed him against the boards and told him not to bother standing up since everyone knows he does his best work from his knees.

His phone chimes again.

“Tell me the truth.”

totally hit me up again next time ur back here

“What?”

Patrick’s heart rate spikes. Would Jonny even be up for it?

Won’t be for the rest of the season :(, he types.

Maybe things feel weird because threeways are a novelty, maybe they just have to work up an immunity. People have threeways all the time and afterward their lives go on undisrupted. But if you’re ever in Chicago… his fingers are so clammy they smudge the screen when he hits send. He reaches for his cup.

“Did you keep our Kaner up all night?”

Patrick’s head jerks up.

“What?” Jonny says, flat.

For the first time since Patrick sneaked out on him, they make direct eye contact.

Shawzy drones on in the background, “Saw you trying to score that hot--”

It last precisely long enough for a sip of coffee to get its lanes mixed as it plunges down Patrick’s throat and somehow u-turn its way out of his body through the nostrils.

Patrick’s lungs try their best to turn inside out.

“Dude,” Shawzy says.

Stromer slaps Patrick’s back a couple of times, hard.

Duncs throws a handful of paper napkins in his general direction and winces in open disgust as Patrick snatches one mid-air and uses it to dab at the liquid leaking out of him. “Gross.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Patrick informs them tartly between fits of coughing. Some treacherous asshole on his right is fucking cackling. He sweeps the table with an encompassing glare and catches Jonny’s eyes again, all dark with concern. The back of Patrick’s neck prickles with embarrassment. “I’m fine,” he repeats, steadier, and Jonny looks away so Patrick does too, hurriedly withdrawing like from the touch of something scalding.

He zeros in on Chelsea’s new message.

might fly in for a couple of weeks around christmas actually

Patrick latches on to the conversation, blocking out his surroundings, trying his hardest to look busy. Fuck everyone and Jonny too.

We could catch up then if you have time ;)

totally 👅🔥🍆🔥, she texts. And after a moment, say hi to porn dick from me btw

Who?

🙄

Patrick bristles. For some reason, the thought of this random stranger sitting around with her head full of pictures of Jonny’s dick makes him hitch. His chest riots with some misguided protective instinct. Jonny would be insufferably smug if he knew, no doubt about it. It’s not that big.

it is! 100% porn worthy

You don’t know what you’re talking about

???

I’m just saying, are chicks even into that? he writes, just to be an asshole but also because he’s pretty sure chicks hate porn. It’s supposed to be a feminism thing. Erica once made him a whole speech about it or whatever.

big dicks? They are

Haha

their also into porn btw this aint the middle ages AND they have way better taste in it then men

Can you prove it? he asks, hoping it sounds flirty and not confrontational. He wants this chick to bang him again but not over the head with a blunt instrument.

maybe if u stop trying to outdick ur bf with ur personality ill send you some recs

“Who are you texting?”

Patrick elbows his cup off the table and scrambles to catch it before it crashes against the floor. “Fuck,” he mutters, shaking his coffee-soaked hand.

Jonny laughs and at the sound, Patrick’s heart stumbles, then sprints up his throat. “You’re a mess,” Jonny says. He stole Stromer chair.

“Yeah, no, fuck off.”

Stromer is nowhere to be found. He and the rest of the guys must have migrated to the lobby. Patrick picks up the phone from where he abandoned it to make the save and shoves it deep into his pocket just as it pings.

Jonny quirks an eyebrow. He’s smiling.

It feels like Patrick trudged around all morning with a lead rib-cage before the universe caught the glitch. The sudden slack from gravity makes him giddy. “Don’t be nosy.”

“I’m not!” Jonny protests, all put upon outrage. He flicks Patrick on the hand. “Just saying, team’s gonna suffer if you sprain a thumb.”

A laugh bubbles up Patrick’s chest, loud and easy, and just a little embarrassing.

For a moment, Jonny looks impossibly pleased but then he catches himself. “Everything alright, yeah?” he asks, turning bashful. His eyes drift to the small heap of crumbs he’s sweeping together with his pinkie.

Patrick nudges his thumb against the back of Jonny’s hand. “Yeah. You?”

Jonny’s lips curl up at the corners. “Of course,” he says, looking up, gaze dark and soft.

Of course, of course, of course. Jonny would never let anything happen to them. Patrick stomach flutters. “Okay,” he smiles, dimples out, and Jonny beams back. Time goes fuzzy as they stare at each other in silence—until the ping of an incoming text makes them both startle.

“Again?” Jonny bitches. A moment later, his forehead creases and he puts his serious face on, “Everything okay with your sisters?”

“Yeah, no. It’s not--” Jonny’s eyes flicks to Patrick’s mouth. Patrick hadn’t realized he’d been chewing on his bottom lip. He stops and it tingles, his own breath turning chilly enough to sting as it laps over the bite. “Just-- the chick from last night,” Patrick’s tongue says forgoing any input from his brain. It’s fine. It’s whatever.

“Oh,” Jonny says.

The world keeps rolling. Unfortunately, so does Patrick’s tongue, “Yeah. She’s cool. She was fun.”

“She was okay.”

Patrick can’t believe the understatement. “Okay? Just that? You’ve got some tough standards, man. She was--” as he searches for the right adjective, it suddenly hits him that Jonny has more experience, at least when it comes to threeways. It’s fucking unfair, but entirely possible, the mind-blowingest sex of Patrick’s life would barely chart as okay for Jonny. While he was dating Lindsay, the two of them got up to some kinky shit, Patrick’s pretty sure. Not that he spent any time thinking about it. He licks his lips. “It was hot, right?”

Jonny scoffs. What an asshole.

“Fuck you.”

“It was hot,” he grants. His cheeks are turning pink. He means it.

It feels like scoring the game-winner in the Stanley Cup final. The rush of triumph makes him cocky. “Hotter than the one you had with Lindsay?”

Jonny scoffs again, to Patrick infinite delight. “It was!” Patrick surmises.

“Lindsay’s hotter than her.”

“No way,” he is so offended on Chelsea’s behalf, he barely registers the deflection. Lindsay dumped Jonny. No matter how she looks, her insides must be rotten. Patrick hates that Jonnys is still hung up on her. He kicks Jonny’s foot to make sure he has his attention. “Maybe we should try again. Chelsea’s coming to Chicago around Christmas.”

“Is she?” Jonny kicks him back. “You two move fast.”

“She’s got family there, I think.”

“Sure,” he sounds skeptical. He admitted it was hot, why wouldn't he want a rematch? He and Patrick and some hot chick, she doesn’t even have to be Chelsea, she can be whoever. Small and blonde, like Jonny likes.

“Or we could find someone else,” Patrick says, growing more committed to the idea each second it lives in his brain. “Just go out and see what happens.”

“You think that’s smart?”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “I think you’re boring.” He goes in for the kill, “Captain serious.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’d even let you pick, I don’t care.”

“Starting to sound a bit desperate there, Kaner,” Jonny flashes his most punchable smirk, the one that’s a little lopsided and always makes Patrick squirm.

Patrick starts a mental list of ways to wipe it off his face. Maybe if he shoved two fingers up Jonny’s nose… “What?” he asks, kind of distracted.

“I’m just saying, If you want to see me naked that bad, you only have to--”

“Fuck you,” Patrick sputters. “I was being generous. Bros before hoes or whatever.”

“I’m telling Erica you said that.”

The thought is terrifying. “Don’t,” Patrick shrieks, so loud people in their proximity stop mid-munching to give them the stink eye.

It’s their cue to clear off, a pretty timely one, considering they barely make it on the bus. They’d probably be yelled at, if they weren’t Kane and Toews.

Jonny saunters past Colliton’s glare and flops down next to Seabs. Patrick takes the two seats right behind, stretching out until he’s almost horizontal.

He checks his phone. Chelsea sent him a text and a link. The texts says, one of them looks a bit like your boy. you’re welcome. The link-- Patrick slaps the phone face down on his thigh.

“You okay there, Kaner?” Jonny asks, glancing over his shoulder.

Patrick feels his ears burn redder than the Hawks home jersey. “Yeah, no. Real peachy.”

#belle #i KNOW i have a tag for my writing #but rn i'm blanking #??????#stuff i wrote

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rhys-writes-sometimes · 3 years

Text

Music Worth Making Part 6: Finally Free

Requested: yes actually lol

Warnings: Luke’s birthday is in this chapter, so sadness, but I think that’s it (other than bad writing of course)

Series Summery: When the reader’s life is ripped away from them, they’re distraught. But with her two best friends and three certain ghosts, maybe the afterlife isn’t so bad after all.

Chapter Summery: You and the band play at your first gig.

Word Count: 3,233

A/N: Aaaa I’m so sorry this took so long! I was in a bit of a writing slump, and then school started. Also, I was trying really hard not to cry writing Luke’s birthday scene, so I have no idea how I’m gonna get through Unsaid Emily. Anyway yeah I hope you enjoy!

______________________________________________________

“How can we die if we’re already dead?” Luke asked, locking eyes with you.

After what happened in the gym last night, you decided you needed a little time alone, to process everything. Whatever it was had scared you, badly.

You poofed into the Molina’s guest room, where Danny was staying. Wincing when you landed on your bad foot, you limped over to the window seat and sat, looking out at the street below. It was such a neighborhood. It was hard to believe that anything bad could happen here.

And yet, it had.

You gasped as the memory of the club came rushing back to you. Not the fun you had, but before that. Seeing the man who had killed you floating above the table. The Club had somehow made you forget that your host was a murderer.

Sometime around 9 am, you decided to go check on the boys. They had been hit with the jolt too, after all.

“Y/N!” Reggie called out as you appeared in the studio.

“Where’d you go last night?” Luke asked from his chair.

“I just needed some time to think.”

Luke nodded once, knowing from your tone not to pry. “Uh, hey, we were gonna go to a cafe, you wanna come?”

“Oh! Yeah, yeah sure. Sounds fun.”

Luke narrowed his eyes slightly in confusion, but grabbed your hand and teleported to the cafe.

-----

“Oh, great angle, yeah,” Reggie said as the lady snapped a picture of her food. For some reason, you, Alex, and Reggie were all sitting with this lady while Luke was standing at the counter.

“Is this what we’re here for?” Alex asked, his voice showing that he was regretting all of his life decisions. “To watch people take pictures of food?”

“It’s fun!” Reggie defended himself. “Watch this, people never stop looking at their phones.” He began to move the woman’s food around the table. She looked around in confusion before leaving the cafe. The three of you chuckled.

“Plus, Luke said something about this place being a hot spot for music industry people.”

“Boys!” Luke said, sitting down in the chair the lady had just left. He glanced at you before continuing: “and, uh, Y/N, being a ghost definitely has it’s privileges. I just wrote our names on the playlist for tonight.”

“I’m getting a little worried about him,” Alex said, speaking to you but loudly enough so that the others could hear him. “He keeps forgetting that Julie quit the band.”

“And that she’s gonna come back!” Luke protested. “Just as soon as she knows we have a great gig.”

You bit your lip. You knew how stubborn Julie was, and she was pretty mad at the boys.

“But if she doesn’t come back, let's not forget we do have somewhere else we can play,” Reggie said, noticing the look on your face. “And eat pizza.”

“Dude, I know, it was awesome to be seen by lifers at Caleb’s party-” you flinched. “-but we got this with Julie. We don’t need him.”

Pain flared through your body again, almost making you fall out of your seat. It was getting worse; it felt like being stabbed again.

“It’s that same thing again,” Alex said, rubbing his side.

“Just like yesterday!” Luke added.

“It feels like that time I was fixing my amp in the rain,” Reggie said. You stared at him.

“You shouldn’t… okay,” Alex started, giving up.

“Look, do you think something’s wrong with us?” you asked, to no one in particular.

“Yeah, yeah, we ate 10 pounds of pizza yesterday without a stomach. I’m sure it’s just our bodies working through it,” Luke said, although there was a hint of worry in his voice.

“So we’re just gonna forget about getting back at Trevor?” Reggie said, desperate to change the subject. “That jerk stole our music!”

“And he has to live with that guilt. It’s like what Julie said, we have a new band, a new sound, okay? That’s what we should be focusing on.” Luke leaned back in his chair, looking at the three of you.

Alex suddenly sat up straighter. “Isn’t that Willie?” he said, walking out the door.

Reggie smirked. “Well, someone’s not focusing on our music.” You gave a small laugh.

“Hey, Y/N, are you okay?” Luke said, leaning over the table towards you.

“Oh, oh yeah, I’ve just got a lot on my mind right now,” you said, giving him a small smile.

He leaned back in his chair, chewing his lip. He knew you weren’t being completely honest, but he didn’t push it.

-----

“We’re sorry

So sorry

We’re super-duper, crazy stupid

Sorry!”

The boys sang as Julie walked into the studio.

“In case you missed it, we’re all really sorry,” you said, walking over to her.

“Yeah, I… I got that part.”

“We’ve been here for like, three hours,” Alex said, high-fiving Reggie.

“We almost sang to your little brother.”

“He comes in here a lot. Mainly to use the bathroom.”

“It’s not our favorite part of the day,” Alex whispered.

“But, Julie, it wasn’t okay that we flaked on the dance last night,” Luke said, getting the group back on topic.

“We know we let you down,” you said, moving to stand with the boys.

“And none of us wanted to disappoint you,” Alex said quickly. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to us since we became ghosts.”

“So, in hopes that you’ll rejoin the band, we booked a new gig,” Luke said, nervously handing Julie the flyer.

“A mega important, life-changing gig,” Reggie smiled.

“Oh, okay, check it out. Tons of managers go here to listen to new bands. All we gotta do is blow them all away, and we’re living the dream.”

“So, this means a lot to you, huh?” Julie said coldly. “Kind of like how playing in front of my entire school meant a lot to me.”

“Sounds like sarcasm… I’m starting to think our plan isn’t working,” Reggie muttered to you and Alex.

“Look, we know we messed up,” Alex started.

“But, we need you in the band,” Luke finished.

“Of course you do. Because without me, no one can see you guys playing.” You looked at the ground in shame as Julie spoke. “You know, I thought that the music we were writing was special, but you’re too obsessed with your past to even care.”

“I do care!” Luke protested. “Our band has a real chance at greatness, and I’m not gonna let that get away from us again!”

“Uh-huh. Right. So then why did you bail on me to get back at Trevor? I’ll tell you why. ‘Cause there’s only one thing you care about, Luke Patterson, and that’s yourself.”

She turned and stormed out of the garage. “Y/N, are you coming?” she called out. You glanced at the boys apologetically before following your best friend.

-----

Julie sat on the couch, quietly scribbling down answers to her math homework. You sat in the chair next to her, sketching on a piece of paper you had found.

“You uh, you got a second?” Alex asked as the boys poofed in. Julie ignored them, turning on the couch so they wouldn’t be in front of her. You stared at the paper you were holding.

“Oh my gosh, she can’t see us anymore!” Reggie exclaimed. Alex gave him a look; Reggie muttered “oh.”

Alex sat on the arm of the couch. “Julie, please.”

“I already told you, I’m done with the band,” she finally spoke.

“Yeah, we know, alright? But before you decide that forever, we just… we wanted you to know that Luke isn’t as selfish as you think he is.”

“Yeah, you’ve got him all wrong,” Reggie spoke up.

Julie scoffed and went back to her homework.

“You remember that song ‘Emily’? Can we at least show you who that’s about?”

-----

You never thought you would be spying on a ghost boy, but here you were. The four of you had walked to a house not too far away from Julie’s, and were peering through the front window from a distance. Luke was sitting on the counter, his eyes red from crying, watching an older couple move around the kitchen. It was Luke’s parents house.

“So, Emily’s his mom?” Julie asked, peering out from behind a tree.

“Yeah. Yeah, Luke comes here a lot,” Alex said, crouching behind a chair.

“He thinks we don’t know but, we’ve been following him,” Reggie admitted. “All he does is just, hang out like this and watch them. They never really do anything, though.”

“They’re having cake,” you noted. “That’s something.”

“It’s a… it’s a birthday cake. For Luke.”

A tear slid down your cheek, matching the boy inside.

“I never knew Luke was hurting this much,” Julie said.

“Yeah. It’s even worse because when he died, he… left on bad terms. You know, his parents didn’t want their 17-year-old to be in a rock band, so… he just left.” Alex said softly. “He never got the chance to make up with them.”

You watched as Luke blew out his birthday candle. His parents relit it and blew it out together.

“That’s why Luke was so angry,” you guessed, tears falling freely. “If Trevor had given Luke credit for writing all the songs, then…” you trailed off.

“His parents would have known his dreams were worth chasing,” Reggie sighed.

“They would have been so proud,” Julie said, her voice breaking a little. You looked over at her and saw that she was crying, too.

Alex stood up. “We know how bad it hurts when someone that should’ve had your back… completely lets you down. We never meant to make you feel that way.”

“Julie, we love our band,” Reggie said, still crouching behind a plant. “And Luke does too. Please give us another chance.”

You looked back at Luke and his family one last time, noticing a bouquet of flowers on the island. You smiled to yourself. They were dahlia’s, Rose’s favorite.

-----

“Marching on proud

Turn it up loud

‘Cause now we know what we’re worth,” you and Julie harmonized.

Luke suddenly appeared in a chair. “Whoa,” he said as the music died out. Then he smiled. “Julie.”

She smiled back at him. “Grab a guitar. We got work to do.”

“What made you come back?”

“I realized how important music is to all of us. And we’ve lost so much already. We can’t lose this too.”

“Thanks,” Luke said quietly. Julie smiled at him. “Alright, boss, where we at?”

Julie smirked, taking pride in the name. “Oh, and by the way, happy birthday.”

Luke looked a little stunned, and he glanced at you.

“Happy birthday,” you said quietly, smiling at him.

A slight blush creeped onto his cheeks.

Julie laughed slightly. “Let’s go from the pre-chorus.”

Alex smiled. “One, two three four!”

-----

“Guys, are you sure? She’s probably just getting dressed or something,” you said as Luke, Alex, and Reggie stopped outside of Julie’s door.

Reggie smirked. “Which is why I’ll be doing this.” He stuck his arm through the door and knocked on this inside.

You heard Julie chuckle as she called out: “What are you guys doing?”

Reggie stuck his head through the door. “We’re being classy,” you heard him say. You and Alex pulled him back.

The four of you walked through the door.

“Why are you still here?” Luke asked. “We’re going in like, twenty minutes.”

Julie sighed. “I lied to my dad, so… now I’m stuck in my room all night.”

“Yeah, but, we were just at the venue! I mean it’s packed, like, VIPs, managers…” Alex trailed off. “It’s kinda crazy.”

“What are we gonna do about my aunt?” Julie asked, sighing again. “She’s right downstairs.”

Luke walked over to her window, smirking as he opened it. “You’re not taking the stairs.”

Julie shook her head slightly. “Okay. Let me get dressed. I’ll meet you guys there.”

The guys all poofed out, but you stayed behind for a minute, admiring your best friend’s room. It was just so… her.

“Y/N?” Julie asked, making you jump slightly.

“Oh, sorry, I’ll leave-” you started, but Julie cut you off.

“No, it’s fine.” She walked over to the trunk of her mom’s clothes, pulling out a leather jacket and turquoise romper.

“So,” she started. “What’s the deal with Luke?”

You felt your face go red. “Huh?” you sputtered. “I don’t-”

“Oh come on, Y/N,” she said with a smirk. “Everyone can see the way you look at him. And the way he looks at you.”

You shook your head. “Even if I did like him, which I’m not saying I do, there’s no way he would like me back.”

Julie rolled her eyes.

“Really Jules! I mean, look at me!” You gestured to yourself. “I’m a mess, inside and out.”

Julie walked over to you and let her hands hover over your shoulders. “Y/N, you are one of the most beautiful people I know. Inside and out,” she smiled.

“You really think so?” you asked.

She nodded. You smiled. “Thanks, Jules.”

“Anytime,” she said, smiling back before putting on her outfit for the night.

-----

“Next up, Dirty Candi,” announced the MC.

“Am I too late?” Julie said, rushing over to where you and Flynn were standing.

“Too early,” Flynn said, staring at the stage where Carrie was standing.

“Hope you all came to have a great time!” she said in a peppy voice.

You glanced back and forth between Carrie and Flynn a few times.

“Dirty Candi? How’d she get on the list?” Julie asked.

Flynn scoffed. “Her daddy probably made a call.”

You saw the way Flynn was staring at Carrie, trying to hide behind disgust. You smirked to yourself, but didn’t say anything.

“I like this!” Flynn said, examining Julie’s jacket. “Pretty flower.”

“Thanks. It’s a dahlia. My mom’s favorite.”

The three of you fell silent as Carrie started to sing.

“Whenever I walk in the room

All the focus on me

The way I talk the way I move

They all want on my team.”

You rolled your eyes; it was clear that Carrie was just bragging about herself. Although you had to admit, the song was catchy and the dance moves were pretty cool.

The guys appeared behind you, smiling as they watched the routine.

“The party don’t start ‘till I walk in

I’m stealing all the attention

Don’t get me started on mentions, yeah”

Suddenly Alex was on the stage. You and Reggie looked at each other in confusion, but Alex looked just as confused as you did.

He quickly got over his confusion however, and he started dancing along with Dirty Candi. You laughed at his antics, making Flynn look at you in confusion.

“Oh, it’s the guys,” you explained.

Alex poofed back off the stage.

“You having fun out there?” Julie asked him, laughter in her voice.

“It’s not my fault it’s my… it’s my feet.”

Julie scoffed, smiling at him. “Yeah.”

Alex grinned. “Put me back in, coach,” he muttered before appearing on the stage again.

You were thoroughly enjoying watching him dance around on stage, walking through Carrie and obviously having the time of his life.

When the song ended, he hopped around in a little circle. “You’re making me blush,” he said, pretending the audience was clapping for him. Four members were.

He poofed back to you guys. “I um, I was just doing that for you guys.”

“Mmhmm. You can stop smiling now,” Reggie said playfully.

“I’m not gonna lie, that was… kinda good,” Julie said.

“Yeah.” Flynn scrunched up her nose. “I forgot why I hate her so much.”

Carrie walked up to the six of you, although to her it only looked like Julie and Flynn.

“Hi girls!” she said brightly. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

Flynn turned to Julie. “Now I remember.”

“If you’re looking for Nick, he didn’t come,” Carrie said coldly.

Julie stepped up to her. “That’s not why I’m here.”

“Okay, looks like we’re closing out the night with one more group,” the MC announced. “ ‘Julie and the Fat Ones’.”

You, Alex, Reggie, and Julie all looked at Luke as Dirty Candi laughed.

“Really?” Alex asked him.

“Yeah man, my handwriting sucks.”

Julie walked past Carrie onto the stage, the four of you following her.

“Uh, hi, it’s actually ‘Julie and the Phantoms’,” Julie said, her voice coming up at the end of the sentence, making it sound like a question.

“Okay,” she muttered when no one answered, and started to play the piano.

“Hearts on fire

We’re no liars

So we say what we wanna say

I’m awakened

No more fakin’

So we push all our fears away”

You joined her, appearing on stage and taking the harmony line. The crowd gasped.

“Don’t know if I’ll make it

‘Cause I’m falling under

Close my eyes and feel my chest

Beating like thunder

I wanna fly

Come alive

Watch me shine.”

Suddenly, the boys appeared too, making the crowd gasp again.

“I’ve got a spark in me

Hands up if you can see

And you’re a part of me

Hands up if you’re with me

Now ‘till eternity

Hands up if you believe

Been so long and now we’re finally free”

Julie smiled, letting you take the second verse.

“We’re all bright now

What a sight now

Coming out like we’re fireworks

Marchin’ on proud

Turn it up loud

‘Cause now we know what we’re worth”

You smiled as Luke joined you.

“We know we can make it

We’re not fallin’ down under

Close my eyes and feel my chest

Beating like thunder

I wanna fly

Come alive

Watch me shine”

The five of you launched into the chorus again, Julie taking the melody. You dropped out, letting Julie and Luke sing the bridge.

“I got a spark in me

I got a spark in me

And you’re a part of me

Now ‘till eternity

Been so long and now we’re finally free”

You smiled into your microphone as Julie nailed the high note, taking the melody of the chorus.

You grinned as the song came to an end, enjoying the adrenaline rush that came with singing in front of a crowd. You heard the crowd gasp again as the four of you disappeared, leaving Julie apparently alone on stage.

“Thank you, we’re Julie and the Phantoms. Tell your friends,” she smiled before stepping off the stage. She immediately ran over to the bar area where you and Flynn were waiting.

You all squealed as they hugged each other.

“You were incredible! Both of you,” Flynn said, beaming at her two best friends.

“Yeah we were!” Reggie said as the boys appeared.

You stood there in an excited silence for a minute more.

“Hey, hey, whoever Carrie was trying to impress is coming this way,” Luke said suddenly.

“Oh, it’s…” Julie trailed off as she turned around and saw the woman making her way over.

“She looks all business,” Alex said a little nervously.

“Wait, who should do the talking?” Reggie asked. Julie looked at him. “Oh, right.”

The woman stretched her hand out for Julie to shake. “Hi, I’m Andi Parker, and I’m-”

“Julie.” Andi Parker was cut off by Ray.

“Dad!” Julie said in surprise.

“It’s time to go.”

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