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angryschnauzer · 3 years

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Full Mast

Summary: Your idyllic life as a trophy wife of a rich lord is suddenly disturbed with the arrival of a pirate ship and a mutiny... what will your husband do to save you from the pirates grasp?

Fandoms: Henry Cavill, Sand Castle - Movie, Mission Impossible: Fallout, Night Hunter, Hellraiser Hellworld

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader.

A/N: This is a CRACK FIC. After a brief discussion with @nuggsmum about the cheap romance novels that you could find in the 80′s and 90′s, i called upon the awful storylines, plot holes, and general cheesyness of those books that walked so fanfiction could run. Read the warnings please.

Storyboard note: The only artwork i could find that was suitable to show a Henry-like character included the woman seen above. I tried to crop as much of her out as possible, the story itself does not describe the female reader at all.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Very Dubious Consent, Dub-con, public fingering, public sex, shackles, imprisonment, very corny word choices that echo back to the romance novels.

Full Mast

You resisted the strong arms that pulled you along, the rough blindfold shielding you from your destination, and yet you could hear the call of the gulls so you knew you were near to the shoreline. The cloth tied tightly around your mouth to gag you overwhelmed your senses, the rich musk of male sweat reminding you in no uncertain terms that these were far from civilised men that had snatched you away from your husbands rose garden as you’d been quietly cutting blooms in the dewy morning light.

The ground beneath your feet changed from loose earth to cobblestones, and you could smell the stench of the docks; of the gutted fish and the slop buckets, of the morning after the night before sailors' tavern. You had never been inside but had heard tales of the men that frequented it; dark and dangerous, men that circled the globe as well as the law. Your husband had regaled you with stories of such men, no doubt to frighten you from wandering off, but the man your father had arranged for you to be married to was but two generations your senior, old enough to be your grandfather, and rarely finished a story without veering off to start another. You’d had no say in the matter, the Lord had paid your father a princely sum for your hand in marriage, ignoring your pleas and protests. It had been three months since your father had hopped upon a spice ship returning to Europe with his gold, forgetting about his only daughter.

“Almost there” a gruff voice uttered, and you were suddenly hoisted over a wide shoulder

“Mmmmfff!” you exclaimed around the gag, but your protests were not heard as the men climbed the gangplank and aboard a vessel. Soon you were tied and thrown into a small room, left alone in the darkness as you heard the ship being prepared for sail.

The ship was on the open water when you were pulled out into the bright daylight, having managed to work the blindfold lose you were now wishing it was still in place, the bright carribean morning sunshine now blinding you as it glinted on the crystal blue waters. Big men stared hungrily at you as you were dragged across the deck to a small staircase that led up to the ships wheel and that’s when you saw him;

“Captain! Here she is!”

The big man at the wheel grinned, his bushy beard and cropped hair doing little to distract you from his piercing blue eyes that shone with a marked interest. Nodding to a young dark haired man he handed the control of the wheel over before quickly descending the stairs and landing steadily on his booted feet just inches from where you stood. With a toothy grin he looked down at you, his gaze falling to your heaving bosom where the stays of your corset had become loose in the struggle, licking his lips before he addressed one of the men gripping your arms;

“Well ain’t she a peach… caught a good one here Constable”

Your attention snapped to the man at your side and you suddenly realised who he was; Walter Marshall; the town constable. His wild and unruly hair and stone cold stare had kept order in town for as long as you’d lived on the island, but you recalled the last town meeting that had been held at your husband’s mansion had been far from smooth, with a number of towns people getting into a heated argument with the lords and gentry, Constable Marshall being one of them.

“You can still smell the roses on her Sy” the man on your other side commented.

The Captains beard tickled your cheek as he leaned forwards and inhaled, his nose brushing against your bare neck and sending a shiver down your spine, the whimper that escaped your throat barely audible and yet he pulled back, a faint look of surprise on his face that was quickly replaced with a smirk;

“She might be smellin’ of sumthin’ else once we’re done with her” he paused and nodded to the man on your other side; “Walker, shackle her to the rigging chest, we’ll be in the shadows of horseshoe cove shortly until it's time to do the sail past… her husband will realise paying the towns folk their dues is the only way to ensure he can live his idyllic life”

An hour of being chained to the enormous storage chest had given you time to watch the goings on of the ship, the way the men worked together, and you’d learned a thing or two about what had seemed to be your boring and idyllic island life had in fact been a town of corruption and mutiny. Captain Syverson had been a Navy Captain, retired once injured but seemingly now fully healed. Walker had been Infantry with the Fusiliers and was a crack shot with both a pistol and a rifle. Of course you already knew of Constable Marshall, and from eavesdropping the conversations you’d learned that they had scuttled the entire islands ships; anything the gentry owned was out of service and unable to sail. With the fishing fleet having left for open waters at dawn there wasn’t a single seaworthy vessel left on the island. Covert operations had meant the fuses for the island’s canons had all been removed in the dead of night, meaning a quick attack would be out of the question. Captain Syverson planned to sail just out of shot reach of your husbands mansion, the ransom note having already been delivered that morning an hour after your disappearance, and only the sign of a yellow flag being waved would ensure your safe return.

When the dark haired deck hand suddenly came to sit next to you, you were surprised as he started to remove the scarf that still acted as a gag;

“Don’t scream, ok? Capt’n has told me to make sure you drink, he doesn’t want you passing out from thirst”

You nodded and the younger man carefully untied the scarf, before taking the earthenware flagon and lifted it to your lips, the cool ale it held soothing your parched throat. Tipping it a little too much it spilled from your mouth and onto your chest, his eyes going wide in fear;

“I… I can’t touch you… Captain’s orders”

“It’ll dry, its hot out today”

“You’re surprisingly unafraid”

“Should i be afraid?”

He shrugged;

“Dunno. I’m Mikey by the way”

“Aren’t you a little young to be a Pirate?”

Mikey shrugged;

“I guess it was just the inevitable”

Through the conversation that followed you found yourself telling him all about yourself; how your father had basically sold your hand, how your husband was literally only on paper, having far more predilection for the handsome young footman than for you. Mid sentence the Captain’s voice boomed across the deck;

“Mikey! Back to work!”

“Yes Capt’n”

When you heard the bells chime of the church on the hill to say it was noon you were moved, the ship sailing around the side of the island and into position 100ft from the shoreline of your husband’s property. With your arms pulled above your head, you were tied to the base of the mast, the big captain coming to stand at your side, his eyes glancing at your breasts as they threatened to spill from your corset that had become loose and had slid down your ribcage.

“What do you see Walker?”

Peering through the spyglass the moustached man paused before he spoke;

“No yellow flag Captain… wait a moment... they’re using semaphores” He was referring to the message flags that the Navy used to send messages from passing ship to passing ship, each small triangular flag each meaning a different seafaring reference; “Hang on… ‘No duties owed’”

The Captain roared and grabbed the spyglass, peering through before grunting and handing it back;

“Lets see if we can change his mind, eh?”

Pulling his knife from his thigh holster he hooked the blade beneath the stays of your corset, tearing the garment in two and watching as it fell to the deck at your feet, your breasts now on full show and greeted with a wild cheer from the crew. Syverson turned to Walker;

“How about now?”

He peered through the spyglass before letting out a defeated sigh;

“Same again… no duties owed”

“So, he’s sticking to his guns… let’s kick this up a level”

Turning back to you he smirked;

“This ain't personal sweetheart…”

To your surprise the big man started to gather your skirts, your eyes wide as he pulled up your petticoats and his large hand slid between your silky thighs, finding you without your undergarments and he cocked an eyebrow;

“Your men found me before I had dressed fully for the day”

“I ain’t complainin’ sweetheart, makes it easier to find…”

His hand found your petals and you groaned quietly as he discovered you slick and ready, his calloused fingers seeking out your clit before he slid two into your velvet channel, filling you more than your own fingers ever had;

“Tight little thing, aren’t ya? Your husband got a small dick?”

You turned your head to face him, emboldened by the wanton display;

“I wouldn’t know, i’ve never seen it”

The Captain froze;

“Fuck”

His hand stopped, still inside you and you could feel your walls trembling with excitement around his digits as his men approached, Walker and Marshall both having heard your admission;

“Sy… we gotta continue, we’re owed for three months pay from the Lord…”

He nodded to the mansion;

“What’s the message?”

Checking again, Walker sighed;

“Return Cargo. No duties owed”

The Captain roared with anger;

“The fucking bastard! Every single man on this ship is owed half a years wages, and for what? Keeping his idyllic island life”

The look on his face had changed, and you finally saw the Pirate in him as he approached you, wrapping a big hand around the back of your neck and kissing you roughly. When you willingly opened your mouth and your tongue pushed against his it gave him the green light to go ahead, his body pressing you to the mast and you could feel his hardness pressing against the thin layers of your petticoats. With a flurry of hands he pulled your skirts up and unbuttoned his breaches, revealing his fat length, almost as thick as your wrist and patterned with veins.

You may never have lain in the marital bed or known the intimate touch of a man, but you had sought your own pleasure with your fingers and even the occasional candle from your husbands drawing room. But you’d never had anything as large as the Captains throbbing length inside you. You hooked your leg over his hip, pulling him close even though your hands were still tied, and let out a cry of pleasure as his hot flesh speared your soaked cavern.

Syverson ravaged you against the mast, fucking you with such a fury that you could feel your body start to tighten around him, and with a cry you came, pressing your head back against the hard wood, a blissful smile across your face as you had your first ever orgasm that you hadn’t given yourself. You were vaguely aware of him pulling out, fisting his shaft and spilling his seed over your bare thighs, before your skirts were dropped and he was fastening himself back into his breeches;

“Well?” the Captain demanded of his men.

Constable Marshall cleared his throat;

“There’s a new semaphore… Cargo Abandoned”

“HE WHAT?” you spat out, filled with anger that your husband would just leave you to the Pirates.

“Very well” Syverson nodded; “Hoist the mainsail, we sail for Kingstown”

He turned to you whilst addressing his men;

“Get her down and have her taken to my cabin” he turned to you; “You ever sailed before?”

“Spent a decade on spice ships Captain” to which he nodded.

“At least you have your sea legs then”

Mikey had unshackled you and was stripping himself of his vest, helping you to slip it onto your arms so you could cover your naked chest.

“Michael?” the captain boomed; “... find her some of the chests of finery we took from that French vessel a couple of months ago”

“Yes Father”

“He’s your father!?”

Mikey nodded;

“Welcome aboard The Cavillry. We’re like one big family here”

Just then the bow hit a wave as it reached the deeper waters, spray splashing up and soaking you, much to Mikey’s amusement;

“You’ll get used to being wet here”

Part 2 Link HERE

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Masterlist can be found on AO3, link HERE

#henry cavill #captain syverson #captain sy x reader #captain syverson smut #crack fic

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eatprayworm · 4 years

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rose red, will I ever see thee wed: tang fan, sui zhou, and fairytale au

been thinking some thoughts today about my fairytale au (also known as the lil red riding hood au), and i thought it might be fun to expand the au to encompass other fairy tales. i’ve always been partial to snow white & rose red, if solely because i LOVE that, at its heart, it’s about sisterhood and goodness. so many fairytales pit sisters and/or women against each other, but not sw&rr! they’re as close as sisters can be, despite their different personalities, and they agree to always be together and share everything. i love it. :’)

so, i thought it might be neat to make the tang siblings snow white and rose red. my ideas below.

-tang yu is snow white, and tang fan is rose red. in the fairytale, rose red is known to be the more adventurous and outgoing sister, while snow white is quieter and prefers to stay at home. so, seems accurate for the tang sibs, yeah?

-in this au, tang fan and tang yu were still raised by their parents, and when their parents die, they still stick together. tang yu lives in the city with tang fan, so they really do never part. <3 tang yu has her son still, but no horrible husband or in-laws bc it’s my au and i say so!

-one day, cheng’er goes missing! kidnapped by a human trafficker. they’re able to track down the carriage, which leads into the woods (not The Woods TM, but another wooded area). cheng’er is found and tang yu and tang fan are so relieved. cheng’er says “i’m okay, this nice bear took care of me! he killed the bad guys who took me.” the tang fam is like .......say what now. they think cheng’er is just making things up, but then there’s rustling in the undergrowth: a flash of black fur disappearing into the shadows. an asiatic black bear.

-sometime later, tang fan is out in the city very late, making his way home. he’s about to get attacked by robbers related to the case (think ep 2? of tsomd) but then he’s saved by A Very Handsome Stranger. and tang fan is like :O!!!! ty Hot Hero!!! he’s like let me thank you with food!!!

-this man is sui zhou, and yes, sui zhou still ends up being the one paying. sz is very....cagey about who he is and what he does. says he’s a soldier, which yes, tf believes. sui zhou walks tang fan home and tang fan is like “can i see you again?????” and sui zhou says “no, it’s better if you don’t.” and tf is ???? :( ????

-tf is dreamy over sz and is determined to find him again! he asks his pal wang zhi if he’s heard of him. wz informs him that sui zhou is actually a royal member, but ever since a year ago, he just.... isn’t really around. no one really sees him or talks about him. tf finds this strange.

-tf DOES run into sui zhou again later, but strangely, only at night. tf trying so hard to get more info out of sz, but the latter just doesn’t really wanna talk about it. but they do share late night meals, and both find themselves growing attached.

-then, Something Happens. maybe they get attacked on their way back to tf’s. they’re both okay, but sui zhou passes out in front of tf’s house. tf isn’t about to let him bleed out in the streets, so he brings him in and patches him up the best he can. tang fan brings him to a spare room to sleep for the night.....

-.....and tang fan wakes up to his sister screaming. why? BECAUSE THERE’S A WHOLE ASS BEAR IN THE HOUSE!!!! the bear is freaking, tang yu is freaking, tang fan is like “OMG THIS BEAR ATE SUI ZHOU!!!” but then cheng’er is like “oh it’s my friend! :D”

-cue cheng’er hugging bear!sui zhou. everyone is.....stunned.

-turns out, sui zhou is indeed some kind of prince, and he was cursed by a sorcerer who is trying to destroy the empire. by day, sui zhou is in the form of an asiatic black bear. by night, he is human. not sure how the curse is broken quite yet. sui zhou sleeps in hilly areas during the day and then comes to town at night. sometimes he’s run into hunters who have tried to kill him, though, so life is dangerous

-tang fan is like “ok so there’s this cool woods behind the palace that most ppl don’t go to. maybe try sleeping there?” and sui zhou is like yeah sure ok, what could possibly go wrong?

-and then this happens:

wang zhi: so where's the bear now tang fan: oh i sent him to the woods behind the palace wz: oh oka- WAIT. you sent him to those woods??? tf: um yeah lol where else am i gonna put a whole ass bear wz: we gotta go to the woods NOW RIGHT, sui zhou is in danger tf: ?!?!??!?!

-and this is how wang zhi and tang fan find an injured sui zhou squaring off against an incredibly large black wolf, with fur like wispy shadows. local forest god ding rong does not take kindly to strange bears.

-wang zhi breaks them up. ding rong is at first, Very Upset that wang zhi would allow someone to send a bear to HIS woods, but they have a conversation and work thru this argument.

-tang fan begs ding rong to allow sui zhou to sleep in his forest during the day, because he’ll be most protected here. ding rong is ready to just like........eat tang fan, but wang zhi is making Those Pleading Human Eyes and ugh. ding rong says sui zhou can stay in the forest, but as far as hunters, he’s on his own.

-eventually, somehow, the curse is broken. <3 probably for some gay reason like tang fan and sui zhou being Super In Love, and sui zhou finding his purpose. they eventually get married. the end.

#fairytale au #suitang #rongzhi #tsomd #yes i took some thematic elements from swan lake #no i won't apologize #yes li zilong is the sorcerer

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areiton · 4 years

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End of Year Recs - 2019

It’s the end of year fic round up time--and this year I’m doing things a little different. I’m gonna do my favorite two fic for each ship or gen pairing I really enjoyed this year, and then (up to) five honorable mentions.

So here--without particular order, my faves from the year!! Also this is long as hell so hit read more for...more...

Irondad

we’re gonna have to do this together by edibna (Irondad | MCU)

Being a superhero sometimes means you forget about the small dangers in the world, like disease. For Peter, this means he loses May to natural causes, not something he could ever save her from.

Unknown to him, May left custody of Peter in the hands of Tony Stark, who, even though he wants kids, has no idea how to actually raise one. With a grieving superhero teenager on his hands, Tony is going to have to figure it out quick, if he wants Peter to ever be able to move on and be happy.

Webcams and Webshooters by losingmymindtonight (Irondad | MCU)

Once Peter's relationship with Tony gets out, the public can't get enough of their new favorite father-son duo.

So, naturally, they monopolize.

(Or: Tony and Peter's relationship, as seen through videos.)

Honorable Mentions:

Put out every star

Holdfasts

i'm the satellite (And you're the sky)

stars, hide your fires

miscommunications

~*~*~

Winteriron

fractures (filled) with liquid gold by itsallAvengers (Winteriron | MCU)

Ultron happened. The Avengers left.

Tony is fine with being alone again. He always worked better as a Lone Wolf than a team player anyway. He's not sleeping or eating or resting or... living, but it's fine. It's good. It's okay.

And then there's James.

illuminate me by Half_SubmergedinPurgatory (Winteriron | MCU)

Tony isn't a healthy man. He's fine with that, really. It makes perfect sense. Unfortunately, he has a job to do that kind of has his health as a major requirement. So he unmakes himself, remakes the Accords, protects every single child super that enters his field of view, and hopes ferociously that the Avengers never come back to the US. He doesn't spend any time at all rebuilding Bucky Barnes' life. Not a single second. Anything he does that contributes to him is simply an accident.

Bucky is a patient man. It's ok if Tony wants to ignore him for now. He won't be able to forever.

(Somewhere in the world, a sense of dread crawls up the back of Tony's spine)

Honorable Mentions:

a street corner in Cambridge

does it hurt

the road less traveled at the end of the line

scars

looking at you

~*~*~

Sambucky

winter, sweetheart by wilsonsnest (Sambucky | MCU)

To know the Falcon’s identity feels surreal to Bucky. It means nothing. As far as Hydra was concerned, Sam Wilson was erased. He has only ever been The Falcon and to Bucky he’s always been Sweetheart.

we could jump state lines (we only get the one life) by notcaycepollard (Sambucky | MCU)

It starts in Paris.

“You can’t steal things just because you like them,” Sam tells Bucky, feeling innately that this is a losing battle, and Bucky cocks his head to the side, considers Sam very thoughtfully.

“Really,” he says. “I’m stealing you, aren’t I?”

Honorable Mentions:

seek out hidden places

not an end, but (the start of all things)

cancel all your reservations (no more hesitations)

they gave you a heart, they gave you a name

you touch me within and so I (i know I could be human once again)

~*~*~

Starker

Stipulations by anonymous (Starker | MCU )

Peter Parker’s longterm dream recently went from ‘get into MIT’ to ‘afford going to MIT’. As the time approaches, it’s dawning on him that he won’t be able to pay his tuition and afford the move to Cambridge all at once: he’s out of money, his secrets are beginning to pile up, and desperation has started creeping in...

And then one night, he saves Tony Stark’s life.

mr. hurricane by spqr (Starker | MCU)

Peter makes it to the ripe old age of 26 without anyone finding out he’s Spider-Man. And then he falls asleep during a B&E at Stark Tower, and the rest is—well, the rest is this.

Honorable Mentions:

Both Ways

breaking point

velvet elvis

the leash

left hand free

~*~*~

Thorki

along a deserted highway by trieduntrue (Thorki | MCU)

The events of Thor (2011) take a different turn when both Thor and Loki are sent to Midgard without their powers as punishment for their misdeeds. With nothing except each other, they go on a journey to reclaim Mjolnir together.

soft shocks by stereobone (Thorki | MCU)

"And why," says Thor, "would I need to come with you to Jötunheim?"

"Ah, well," Loki says. "They may be under the impression that we're married."

Honorable Mentions:

How Long We Were Fooled

we spent our darkest days howling at the moon

~*~*~

Ironhusbands

touch the sky by scrollgirl (Ironhusbands | MCU)

Jamie Rhodes wouldn't be who she is today without her friendship with Tony Stark. The flip side of that is Tony Stark wouldn't be Iron Man without the twenty-five years he's been in love with her.

twenty five years by Not Applicable (Ironhusbands | MCU)

Nobody knows how long this has actually been going on. (Tony Stark has pretty much been in a monogamous relationship since he was 18 years old.)

Honorable Mentions:

a date on the moon

home for the non-holidays

reconstruction

pretend we're in love (the heartache still hurts)

i place your hands around my neck

~*~*~

Winterhawk

silhouette by mariana_oconnor (Winterhawk | MCU)

After a mission in Mexico goes wrong, SHIELD Agents Barnes and Rogers are given the job of hunting down the notorious Hawkeye and the Black Widow, the only problem being: no one even knows what they look like.

On the other side of the law, Clint's enjoying messing with their new SHIELD shadows, especially seeing how close he can get to Agent Barnes without him realising, but he makes the mistake of getting attached, and that makes everything more complicated.

nameless by AvaKelly (Winterhawk | MCU)

A gun is pointed at him before he can even move from his position, the Soldier's metal arm steady in its aim. Clint sighs.

"Nemo," Clint says. "It's tattooed on your wrist, right here," he lifts his right hand and taps his left index finger where his palm ends.

The Soldier's eyes widen. "How do you know this?"

"I put it there."

Honorable Mentions:

What do you mean we left Clint on Mars

clint barton's super secret snipers' club

lucky in love

i'll keep you safe here with me

complications

~*~*~

RPF

the end of the missing by eadunne2 (Evanstan | MCU RPF)

Sebastian remembers this from before, Chris’s physicality, remembers shoving and tripping one another, and hugs that lingered. It had been silly, friendly, until some vague, unspoken moment towards the end of filming when their relationship had changed again - Chris circling Sebastian’s wrist with his hand, or a palm to his lower back, only on rough days, only when Chris noticed him tensing up against unpleasantness in his own mind. At first Seb wanted to apologize, brokenness is a tiresome trait, but the actions seem to calm Chris too, ease his busy brain. When they lost touch Seb pretended not to miss it; he wouldn’t have had a chance to anyway, right? - with two dozen excellent fuck buddies all over the globe. Weird how they all had blue eyes though.

I would lose my decadence (for your love) by deadhearts (Stackie | MCU RPF)

The thing of it was that Mackie had just been trying to make a point. He'd just been trying to shut him up, or to make something clear, and he'd done what he'd set out to do. Sebastian had been well and properly put in his place. He'd been put in his place so well that Mackie had never touched him again, not in that way, because he'd never had the need: whatever question he'd been asking had been so thoroughly and roundly answered that there wasn't any need to ask it twice.

Honorable Mentions:

Like O, Like H

when you kiss me i just gotta say (baby i love you)

cross the line

fine until you're not

~*~*~

Stucky

ain’t no grave (can keep my body down) by spitandvinegar (Stucky | MCU)

It's six in the morning, and Steve is heading out on a run when he nearly trips over a bouquet of sunflowers on the front steps of his brownstone.

For a second paranoia takes over, and he kicks the flowers a little, waiting for them to explode. They don't. They also came with a card, which he picks up. The front of the card has a tasteful picture of the Brooklyn bridge at sunset. It's very nice and sedate, like the kind of card you would buy to give to your boss. On the inside someone has written a short message in big, shaky block letters.

I AM SORRY FOR SHOOTING YOU.

Steve sits down hard on the steps.

there should be stars by childhoodinfamy (Stucky | MCU)

“All memories to tell you the truth aren’t good.

But sometimes there were good times.

Love was good. I loved your crooked sleep

beside me and never dreamed afraid.

There should be stars for great wars

like ours. There ought to be awards

and plenty of champagne for the survivors.”

- Sandra Cisneros

Or, it takes them decades.

Honorable Mentions:

This, you protect

little animal lives

the long game

a long winter

the art of cooking for two

~*~*~

Stony

never too late for love by Sineala (Stony | MCU)

Steve has always believed that a soulbond is a blessing -- a rare and beautiful miracle, joining the thoughts and feelings of two people forever, from the first time they touch. Steve knows he's not going to be one of the lucky ones. He knows Gail isn't his soulmate. But he loves her, even if they're not soulmates, and he's going to do right by her. After the war's over, he's going to marry her, and they're going to settle down. They'll buy a house. They'll have children. He'll see his family again. Maybe Bucky will live next door. It's going to be a good life. He doesn't need a soulbond. He'll be fine without one.

Then Steve wakes up sixty years in the future to find that his wonderful life has moved on without him. His family is long dead. His fiancée married his best friend. And the only purpose he has left is leading the Ultimates, a misbegotten team of superheroes with flaws too numerous to count. Steve hates everything about the future -- but most of all he detests Tony, flashy and flirtatious, who embodies everything Steve hates about a world he never wanted to live in.

And, oh, yeah, Steve has a soulmate after all: Tony fucking Stark.

wait and sea by lenalena (Stony | MCU)

In which Tony and Steve get sent on an undercover mission aboard a cruise ship to make contact with Hydra. In this AU the military has kept the discovery and defrosting of Captain America a secret, so Steve and Tony have never met before. Yet they are to pose as newlyweds....

Honorable Mentions:

celestial navigation

the song without words

dear mr fantasy

slipping off the page into your hands

the twice-told tale

~*~*~

Stuckony

hide a heart of war by Hummingbird_52 (Stuckony | MCU)

“You’ve got war in your heart boy,” Howard sneers, “don’t ever try and pretend to be anything but what you are.”

Tony feels the familiar burn of a flower mark being etched into his skin but he doesn’t look, doesn’t try and check to see what it is. Instead he keeps his eyes on Howard and his hands cupped around his bleeding mouth and nose.

the stories we write by NotEvenCloseToStraight (Stuckony | MCU)

A question at an interview leads to Steve and Bucky discovering fan fiction, and after piles of coffeeshop au's and fake dating tropes (and screaming over ABO fics) they find an author that writes some of the best fics they've ever read-- reader inserts starring a dark haired, dark eyed male reader as their shared love interest.

The platonic fics are heartfelt and sweet, the smutty fics have them tearing their clothes off to act out scenes, the soulmate fics have them crying over the true love that so often ends with the Reader passing away and Stucky being left behind.

Then one day, a fic posts with a scene taken right out of their lives, one that happened right there in the Tower, entirely the same right up until they take the Reader to bed.

Bucky is the one to realize the writer is Tony.

Steve is the one to suggest writing fics of their own to show Tony they return his feelings.

Writing fics to show an author you're in love? What could possibly go wrong?

Honorable Mentions:

eagles

branded

imagine you and you (and you) and me

#arei reads fic #stony #stucky #sambucky #irondad #starker #winterhawk #winteriron #MCU RPF #stuckony #ironhusbands #thorki

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oh-theatre · 4 years

Text

Objection!: Chapter 16

Chapter title: How ‘Bout A Dance

A/n: !!!!! Guys! Guys! YALL this chapter!! Look im so excited!! im cryfin i Love THEM. LO AND THE KIDS!! PRINXIETY IS SO SMOFT!! PATTON BEING MY FAVE!! Just a breather from everything!! I LOVE THEM AND IM SO GLAD WE ARE PROGRESSING. I hope you enjoy this chapter and please leave me some comments!

I KNOW LITERALLY EVERYONE IS GONNA BE WATCHING THE NEW EPISODE BUT I SAID SCREW IT AND IM POSTING IT

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words: 5944

summary: Roman suffers with some of the after-effects of his experience

pairings: Eventual logicality, eventual prinxiety, platonic demus, romantic remile

warnings: Murder mention, child murder, Law and Courtroom, swearing, blood, hospital, crime scene, dead bodies, murder, gun mention, guns, swearing, flashbacks, angst

Ao3 Link

“And finally, the noble prince was saved from his captors and healed by his dashing love” Roman explains, the twins bundle up closer their small eyes flutter trying to listen. “The knight, always so resilient, could never give up on his one true love” Roman recites, Patton smiles sweetly from the door, a hot tea warming his hand as he leans on the arch. “So together, the knight and the prince fought endless hours until the battle was won” Valerie giggles clapping her small hands, Remus yawns pulling the blanket closer towards him. “They returned home heroes and were quickly crowned king and king of this land of promise” Remus gives his best cheer, dazed and sleepy. “And they lived happily ever after” Roman finishes planting a kiss on each of their foreheads before gently laying them in their respective beds.

“Tomorrow can you do one about princesses?” Valerie requests as Roman tucks her in, she plays loosely with his face poking and prodding.

“Anything for my Princesa” Roman assures, the little girl yawns satisfied turning over as she clutches to her bear. Roman moves across the room to where a lazy Remus had waddled to his bed, struggling to climb in. Roman helps him in making sure he's secure.

“I want one about octopuses and snakes” Remus mumbles, Roman glances towards Patton who simply shrugs. “My new best friend loves snakes,” He says into his pillow, Roman chuckles wishing the pair goodnight. He turns off the lights making sure their night-lights are on before closing the door behind him.

“They missed you,” Patton says, the two men situate into the living room. Roman slumps into the couch exhausted, the fatigue setting in. His first day out of the hospital, though slow and careful was still rough. Patton had been by his side most of the time, he was incredibly grateful for it. “I missed you Ro” Patton adds, a soft smile spreads across the judge's face. Logan had stopped by earlier to visit and check-in, even Remy and Emile had joined them. Alas, the one prominent missing piece, the one Roman desired the most. Virgil.

“Thanks for today, it was nice” He adjusts his position, curling up. “I forgot how much they could be, however, I love them don't get me wrong” Roman defends, he sighs rubbing his head. “I was just hoping all of this wouldn't be so hard…” He didn't want this injury to linger, to change what he was before. He loved playing with the kids, he adored striding through the day with adventure, he longed for the nights where he huddled them up and told stories so magical.

“Eh, maybe you're just getting old” Patton jokes, Roman laughs nudging him gently. “You should get some sleep, I know it's not ideal but you'll be back home tomorrow” Patton suggests spinning the spoon in his cup. Roman sits up, his brows furrowed.

“What do you mean? My house is a mess” He remembers, the dark images of shattered memories flash through his mind. A coy smile quickly makes its way around Patton's face. “What did you do?”

“It's not what I did, its what Virge did!” Patton exclaims, Roman softens at the mention of the detective, his chest fills. “He spent all day today cleaning up and organizing for you, he even took Ollie to get pampered” Patton informs, Roman can't describe his thoughts. The sizzling blush across his face, the increased sweat gathered in his hands.

“He did that...for me?” Roman marvels, a bitter taste stings the tip of his tongue, a reminder. Don't get your hopes up. With the addition of the ‘Remy incident’, Roman learned that a certain lawyer couldn't keep his mouth shut. Roman's romantic plans revealed to a less than happy Virgil. “He hasn't been avoiding me?”

“Of course not silly” Patton smiles “He's been planning this for a while” Roman hopes his eyes are teasing him, a joke, there can't be actual tears welling...can there? “Hey, if this is about the gala, he was just a little surprised I'm sure he’ll say yes” Patton assures, Roman nods. “Promise me you'll go through with it?” He holds out his pinky finger, a cute smirk on his face. Roman scoffs playfully but promises nonetheless. “Good! Now sleep” And so Roman did. Patton set him up in the guest bedroom before retreating to his own room. Sleep was the easy part, it was impossible not to feel comfortable in this house. It radiated love and joy and warmth, his dreams on the other hand? Now that was difficult.

So was waking up in a drenched sweat, covering his mouth as relentless screams came out. Liquid puddled in his hands, dripping down him, unable to differentiate. The room remained still, the darkness consuming him as something moved through the shadows. The screams wouldn't stop, he couldn't stop them, they controlled him.

“Roman!” Patton's voice broke through, the judge looked towards the door, light-flooded in, an aura surrounded the lawyer. He quickly took a seat at Romans side, taking him in his arms. The judge shook his head frantically, apologies muttered endlessly. Patton's gaze filled with worry as he held tighter, strokes of comfort across his head. “Ro...talk to me, what's wrong?” Patton pleads, wanting nothing more than to help, be there.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry” He repeats simply, Patton shushes him continuing his strokes. He takes a towel from the nightstand, dabbing across him softly, a soaking feeling never helped.

“You have nothing to be sorry for” If there's one thing Patton wanted Roman to hear, it was that. “You're ok, you're safe, I promise” Well and that...he mimics a rocking motion, Roman isn't there anymore, a shell as the judge escapes into his thoughts. Hiding in fear of the man he sees in Patton's arms. “You're ok Roman, it's ok” He hopes, his own mind racing violently. It slows and he can feel the steady breathing, he takes his phone out shooting a very messy, quick text to Logan and Virgil.

“I'm sorry” Roman whispers again, too afraid to fall asleep, too tired to fight anymore.

~~~

“Is he ok? What happened? What's going on?” Virgil interrogates as soon as Patton approaches. He's been waiting by the front desk, his foot about to be shaken off by pure force. “Patton!” He gives the lawyer no time to answer, a sigh returned.

“I spoke to his doctor this morning, its common after such a traumatic injury” Patton begins slowly, Virgil instantly regains a regular demeanor, he listens. “He warned me about what Romans going to be going through-”

“What?!” Virgil cries, he can't handle this. How can he help? What can he do?

“Virgil, you need to take a deep breath” A newly joined Logan advises. “Let Patton explain ok?” Virgil nods, the arm Logan puts on his shoulder creating a sense of calm. Patton gives a supportive smile but continues.

“He's going to be withdrawn, and his temper is going to shorten.” Patton remembers “He's going to be very irritable but we can not walk on eggshells around him. I mean it ok? The last thing he wants its to be treated differently, we just have to adjust” Patton sighs, moving on “He can't come back to work yet, a-and he's having trouble sleeping and eating and-” Patton stops himself taking a deep breath. He can't help but picture last night, the fear, the absolute hatred for himself in Roman's eyes. He shakes his head, looking up. “Uh someones gotta stay with him, I just…” He meets their eyes again “I don't think he should be alone...but he needs to go home” The two agree, details to be discussed.

“So, obviously, no gala right?” Virgil adds, Logan goes to nod but Patton purses his lips.

“No he has to go, the doctor cleared him” Patton explains “But either way he has to, the gala is Roman's favorite event, he looks forward to every year. Not going would be detrimental to him” That's the last thing Virgil wants, hesitant he nods.

“Is he still...planning on...you know?” Virgil slows, Patton gives an awkward smile.

“Yeah...but you don't have to say yes” Patton defends, Virgil swallows “If you don't want” He adds, Virgil gives him a small glare, Patton smirks. “We can move him back today, and I'm ok taking the first few nights” Logan tilts his head, a frown upon his face. Even in the midst of everything, even the sunken look under Patton's eyes, the worrisome furrow of his brows, even with all of that he looked...stunning.

Woah

Ok, Logan clearly had not gotten enough sleep. Or maybe he was right, and should just-

“Pat, you have the twins to worry about” Virgil reminds, Patton's face remains. “I can take him tonight, ease him into the house” Virgil offers, though he does feel it. He wants to be there for Roman but he's not sure how.

“And you have Damian, it's ok I'll find a babysitter” He sighs hearing his phone ping “not up to debate Virge, I have to go, talk later ok?” Virgil huffs but nods making his way towards the door. Logan waves him farewell, promptly following Patton through the halls. He walks by his busy side, his hands behind him, fiddling with his fingers. Patton stops groaning as his phone goes off again.

“Everything alright?” Logan inquires, watching the reflection of the phone in Patton's glasses.

“I'm just so swamped, I have to talk to Haley about the case, I have to make arrangements for the Gala-” Logan cuts in

“I thought the committee took care of that” Patton laughs dryly, shaking his head at the suggestion.

“Please, I do most of the work and they take the credit” He states, Logan stifles a smirk. He loves the hinted passive-aggressiveness that radiates from Patton. It's nice to see him know his place, know that he deserves so much. Patton stares frozen at the wall as yet another ping from his phone plays out. “Oh god, their appointment I forgot!” He exclaims quickly replying. “And I have to find a babysitter for tonight..” He mutters, the words ‘pick-up’ and ‘Barbara’ are also slipped in

Offer Logan

Say the words

You want to

Logan searching for the courage to speak up clears his throat.

“Patton, I could help” The bespeckled lawyer looks up at him, his head cocks “I'm more than willing to” He offers, a nervous ringing in his ears, specifically with the twins but... For what seems like an eternity, Patton simply stares but soon Logan can take a breath. Patton takes his hands which are now placed neatly in front of him and squeezes sweetly.

“Oh! Thank you!” He exclaims, Logan returns his sickly smile. “If it's not too much to ask could you take the twins?” He requests a very small sliver of hope, Logans defenses fall. “I know its a lot! But it's just that they love you and know you, and you're so good with them” Patton rambles, Logan's soft spot for this quality is odd.

“But...I thought...only with people you…” He starts, he resets himself, “I thought you only left them with people you trusted” Logan recalls, the image of Remy tackling the twins.

“I never said I didn't trust you” Patton assures, the sweetest of smiles across his face.

~~~

The screeching children used to be so off-putting but now as Logan stands outside the daycare its a sense of joy and adventure. He pushes his way in, locating the front desk quickly, children can be seen running around. The woman smiles up at him, holding a finger as she finishes a call, he waits idly examining the building. To his left is the recreation area, its quite big with many different sections for different activities. Further to the right is some kind of kitchen/eating area and an educational section. The children play throughout the entire scene, some passing Logan as they go.

“Hi! How can I help you?” The woman greets, Cindy if Logan recalls.

“I'm here to pick up Remus and Valerie Hart” He informs, Cindy smiles nodding. Her fast fingers move quickly across the keyboard as she pulls up information.

“Patton told me you would be coming, name and identification please” She requests with an everlasting grin. Logan nods pulling his wallet from his pocket, he places his ID in front of her as she checks it. “Logan...Tolentino?”

“That is correct” He assures, Cindy finishes something up before standing up and making her way into the crowd. Logan watches her as she somehow spots two children from the crowd, something sets off in Logan as he watches Cindy take Remus and Valerie from their activity. A small smile across his face as they spot him running towards him ripping themselves away from Cindy.

“Logan!” Valerie squeals running faster than her brother, she jumps onto his lug, squeezing tightly. Logan kneels to greet her, amusing her with a small handshake.

“Lolo!” Remus, unknowingly, teases. A more...abrupt approach is taken as he jumps into Logan's arms almost knocking him over. “What are you doing here?” He questions quite forcefully as he pushes against the man's chest. Valerie nods in agreement clearly as curious as her brother.

“I'm here to pick you up and take you to the doctors, and then home” He explains, they grin brightly vibrating in his clutches. “Shall we?” He asks, he stands taking their hands to lead them out. Cindy waves them farewell as he goes out to the car. It gains silent quickly and Logan feels the sweat grow in his hands. He has no trouble upholding conversations, it's more of a matter of whether he wants to. But right now? His mind runs blank, he's spoken to children before, so why was this so difficult.

They reach the car and Logan helps them into their seats, Patton and him had traded vehicles for easier transport so it took some getting used to. Remus was eager to get into his seat on his own, Logan made sure it was secure. He helps Valerie next who held a pretty tight hold on the lawyer, almost fearful of letting go. Once shes secure Logan goes to move to the front seat but Valerie tugs.

“Valerie, is everything alright?” He questions softly, she struggles with her words before sighing in defeat. She lets go turning away from the window. Logan has an immense need to push, he wants to help, but how? He piles into the front seat beginning the drive, the kids speak in quick mumbles in the back. The drive goes by and they arrive promptly.

“Good morning! Welcome to the children's clinic, how can I help you?” Logan waves and carries the twins forward. They insisted they were ‘exhausted’ and Logan didn't mind.

“Hello, I'm Logan Tolentino, I'm here with Remus and Valerie Hart” He explains, the man nods.

“Right, Mister Hart informed us you were coming,” He says checkings over a few things, Logan pulls out his ID and all of the children's medical files Patton gave him. “Thank you, uh...yeah looks good. Just wait for your name to be called” He says handing them back, Logan thanks him sitting down. The twin's race to the small activity area, playing with the toys. Logan wants to warn them to be careful, to make sure they don't touch their face but his voice fails him. As if he isn't confident enough to...to take care of them.

“Valerie Hart?” Logan looks to the source, Valerie comes racing by quickly taking the nurses' hand. Logan stands to follow but worries about leaving Remus.

“It's ok! I go by myself! Rem gets more scared than I do” She assures smiling brightly, Logan nods a grateful smile in return. He watches her disappear into the office chatting away with the nurse. Logan wonders whether he should have let that happen, he feels as if everything is a test. A tally of points to determine his ability to take care of children, Patton's words breathing down his neck.

“I never said I didn't trust you”

“Remus Hart?” Logan snaps his neck towards the nurse's direction, he feels Remus grasp his hand, hesitantly moving forward. “Hi Remus, how are you?” The woman, Tora, asks. Remus hides behind Logan's leg, avoiding eye contact. She awes before facing Logan. “You can just follow me here, we’re going to take his weight, height, the usual” She informs, Remus steps onto the weight fiddling, much like his father, with his fingers. Tora does some quick scribbling before ushering them into the room.

“Help!” He whispers softly to Logan as the nurse closes the door. Logan obliges placing him gently on the bed. He giggles as the crimped paper sounds off below him. “Thank you” He recites, almost as if rehearsed.

“You're not...forgive my bluntness, his father correct?” Tora inquires as she sets up the blood pressure machine. Remus watches it frightened, his eyes scanning her every movement.

“Oh no, I'm…” He swallows the word, what is he? Friend...friend is not enough to describe..but what if that's exactly what Patton thought of them as. Or less? What was he to Patton.

“He's dada’s best friend!” Remus cheers, that works, Logan decides. “And Dada loves him” He mentions casually, Logan knows that at this age the differences between love are so sparse for children. They just see the world, the complexity of everything is left unturned, so this statement was nothing out of the ordinary. But the concept, the idea...Logan couldn't breathe.

“Well isn't that sweet” Tora finishes quickly and runs through the procedure easily. The doctor comes in and checks through everything, asking the standard questions. Logan has prepared in case any information was needed, he was surprised at just how much he knew.

“Alright, all that's left is a shot and then you're free to go” He states, Remus, who had been quite calming up until then burst. He jumps up quickly on the bed and hides behind Logan who had made the mistake of standing next to him. “Aw Remus, it's not so bad, just ask your dad” The doctor looks expectantly to Logan, it just wasn't the right time to correct him. Logan turns to Remus, placing him carefully back in his position.

“Remus, it's ok” He begins, the little boy watches him, puddles of water gathering in his eyes “At first it is scary, but then you won't even feel it. A quick pinch and it's over” He demonstrates on his arm, pinching it rapidly, no pain. Remus watches, he moves his hand over the spot, his eyes lighting up. “And, you can hold on to my hand if you get scared, alright?” Remus pokes the spot, but nods.

“Okey” He mutters, barely a confirmation “Can we get ice cream after?”

“We have ice cream at home” We, home. Logan might need the doctor.

~~~

“And welcome home!” Virgil claps, sighing dryly. Roman nods, a weak smile is given in return. “Uh, after the gala, Patton and I will switch and Ill come stay with you” He reads over their schedule, Roman gives a thumbs up from his exhausted position from the couch. “But for tonight, Pats your babysitter” He quips, Roman laughs

“Thanks, and thanks for helping me unpack, and for resisting the urge to make fun of me, and for not mentioning last night or the fact that I want to ask you to the gala” He rambles, Virgil takes a breath for him.

“Now we don't have time to unpack ALL of that” Virgil teases, Roman huffs. “As for making fun of you…” Virgil moves slowly, leaning over the couch as he speaks to Roman. “Never Princey” Somehow his fingers make their way into Roman's hair, he fiddles softly with the ends of them. “Dude your hair is so soft” he marvels almost instantly, Roman chuckles sitting up. Virgil makes his way around, sitting next to the judge. “And hey last night, it's ok...you do...know that right?”

“I guess...I feel awful” Roman admits, Virgil remains, he waits for his opening. “And, though not the ideal way I wanted you to find out, sorry about the gala thing, I know you don't wanna go let alone with me” Virgil cocks his head.

“Now who said I didn't want to go with you?” Virgil's fixed gaze falling onto Roman's eyes. Though tired, they still shimmer with amber excitement. “But why now? Why the dance?” Virgil questions, this might not be the most ideal time for them…

“Because you broke up with..” Roman snaps trying to remember “Drake! God what a douchey name-”

“And douchey person” Virgil reminds recalling the reporter he had dated for a while.

“Right, you guys broke up like...nine months ago, and this was just...the perfect opportunity” Roman hopes it does not sound shaky. Virgil stifles a laugh, Roman pushes his shoulder gently. “I was nervous until I almost died, and then I decided I didn't have time to be nervous” He admits, Virgil softens, the quiet stir of the house sets in.

“Well, I would've said yes, still will if you want to” Roman nods, neither able to meet their eyes.

“Hey uh, Virge?” He begins, the detective looks up at him. He stands from the couch, kneeling in front of it, his face keeps serious “Would you go to the gala with me?” He asks, holding out his hands as if opening a box, besides the fact that it's empty. Virgil laughs nudging, he collects himself before gasping.

“Yes of course!” He cries, they stand cheering delighted before falling back onto the couch, laughing. “Crap now I have to get a suit” He sighs, Roman shrugs knowing he has a plethora of options available. “I should get back to Dee, he's been a little antsy every time I leave lately…” Virgil mentions

“Of course, tell him his dad says hi” He jokes, Virgil, rolls his eyes flicking Roman across the head. “Bye Virge!” He shouts, Virgil turns shooting quick finger guns leaving shortly after. As soon as the door closes Roman jumps quickly, a small victory dance commences through his house. New energy takes place as the lights seem just a bit brighter. He hums as it goes, a sweet tune carried with him as he begins cleaning up a few things. He moves to the kitchen. His eyes dare to scan the room, the room is spotless but his mind is not. Moments later the door swings open full f..orce

“Hello?” Roman calls out from his position, he hears rapid forceful footsteps under him. Doors and cabinets slam, things break with a piercing crash. Roman drops his items and rushes to the door. Locking it, he turns off the lights instantly calling Virgil, no response. “Virge, please pick up” He whispers frantically, cowers in the corner, the footsteps only grow louder.

“Roman Reial!” A husky voice calls, it's shaky as it searches through the upper level. The urge to yell ‘not here’ was too much, he clasps his mouth shut with his hand clearly stifling hysterical laughter. Ollie’s whines as he barks trying to scare the intruder away are momentarily heard. Please don't hurt him, Roman begs wishing his spaniel was with him.

His door was old, it was ancient in fact, it wouldn't survive a beating. And yet, it held pretty well for a while. Well until it shoved open now Roman could see the figure, fight or flight. And yet for some reason, he remained frozen watching as a gun was pulled on him.

“Hiding like a coward are you mister Reial?” The man questions, the nerve. He's being smart, fighting would do him no good, although neither did hiding. Running, running would've been the smart option. “Shame, I was hoping you would put up a fight” Roman tried hard to identify his voice, searching for a clue of anything at all.

“What do you want?” Roman tries, the man laughs, sickly his voice oozes. An eloquent fit Roman supposes, dying at the hands of the unknown, his life built quite the same. Charging into the unknown, he winces, as the man reasserts his position. Soon enough the shot rings throughout, it's funny, Roman doesn't hear it at first but he feels it. It pushes him back, his hands move slowly to the wound clutching tightly as the red substance oozes out of him.

“One down, one to go” The man mocks, Roman watches blurry as he exits leaving a helpless judge to wallow in his own despair, as he watches the darkness consume him.

“Hey! Sorry, I forgot my...jacket” Virgil wanders off, walking towards the dazed man. Roman faces him coming back from his musings. “Ro?” He questions ever so softly “Are you ok?” Virgil places a hand on Roman's shoulder, the instant wincing wasn't intentional but a leftover. A bitter taste left to last.

“Peachy keen” he whispers his lie.

~~~

“Yes perfect! Right there!” Patton commands the men nod walking briskly away as they set up the room. Patton smiles standing in the center of the beautiful draping ballroom.

He yawns, he misses the twins. He sees them throughout the day but he's been so busy and taking care of Roman, though he loved being there for his friend, was...honestly hard. He didn't know if he was helping. He knew Logan was taking good care of them which helped relax him but he just wanted to scoop them up and lay on the couch watching movies.

“Mister Hart, you look wonderful” Patton turns ready to thank the stranger, turning bright red as his eyes fall on an equally wonderful looking Logan.

“Oh! Hey Lo, you look…” Patton swears he's just exhausted but he couldn't find the right words. Logan goes to work in a suit almost every day, it is not an uncommon occurrence. And yet here he stood, under the aurous lights of the chandelier framing him perfectly, he looked- “Enchanting” Patton mutters, his eyes meeting Logans.

“It looks marvelous in here Patton” Logan compliments, Patton nods slowly, his jaw slacked. His eyes continue to scan the man, something about the way the room presents itself. Logan is breathtaking, literally, Patton might faint. “The twins are all tucked in for the evening and Barbara is watching over them, she's grateful for the night off” He explains, the mention of his family sets off a reset button in the lawyer. He bounces smiling.

“Thank you, and thank you for picking her up and thank you for everything Lo, seriously, it means the world to me” Patton takes Logan's hand, both feel a familiar shock run through them, tingling their hearts excited. He squeezes, lingering just a bit, even as his name is called. “Yes?” He turns finally pulling away.

“The event has begun” They announce, Pattom buzzes excited releasing a shaky breath. And then it did, people flooded in, moving across the floor dancing soon the room was alive. Logan had lost Patton in the crowd somewhere, a sinking feeling in his stomach fearing he wouldn't be seeing him.

“Hey pocket protector” Roman greets, Virgil at his side, eyeing the world around him. “No date?” He teases, Virgil appropriately nudges him. “Twas a joke” He responds

“Twas not funny” Virgil replies, Logan smiles weakly. He's spent the better half a week with children, and he adores them of course but he was hoping to have a conversation. One not full of coloring and octopuses. He excuses himself.

“Look you pushed him away” Roman retorts, Virgil scoffs feeling more comfortable by the minute. “Hey, you ok?” Roman checks, Virgil rolls his eyes

“I should be asking you that, how are you feeling?” Virgil returns the gesture, Roman resists the urge to reassure him and simply nods. “Oh? The music is changing” Virgil notes

“Astute observation detective Tormine” Roman teases, he takes a deep breath “Wanna dance?” Virgil shrugs dragging the judge towards the floor. Roman feels as though his entire weight has been gone, he floats letting Virgil lead him through the dance. Roman, surprisingly, not much of a dancer. He has rhythm, so as Virgil takes point, he picks it up quickly.

“Nice, you sure you're good?” Virgil checks again, the music drowns out in the background as it becomes just them. The pair in their own bubble, moving swiftly, clutching to one another as they dance. Roman can't tell if this is real, it feels too good.

“I am good Virge please” He hopes, Virgil backs off, nodding. The music really does take them into their own world. “Thank you, for...saying yes” He mumbles, Virgil reasserts his hands.

“Roman, I didn't do this...out of pity.” Virgil wants to make sure the judge knows that, he just...he doesn't know how to express it. “I wanted to say yes, me, I, all me” He assures, Romans smile couldn't be measured. “Now come on, I need some air, too many schmucks” He jokes, Roman claps for the song before obliging Virgil's wishes as they make their way to the balcony.

“Patton did a wonderful job…” Roman muses leaning over the railing, the chill runs through him, Virgil was right...he needed this. “Oh hey” Virgil turns his head to face Roman, his arms folded across the railing. “I forgot to mention, you look really nice”

“Right back at you” Virgil quips, the silence that falls between them is comfortable, welcomed. They're so close, Virgil feels warm, not needing an extra jacket. Not that Roman would hesitate to wrap him in anything. Roman yawns tilting his head slightly, he allows his head to fall carefully onto Virgil's shoulder. Virgil pets him teasingly. “There there” He mocks

“Aha,” Roman chuckles dryly. “I really like you Virge” Roman admits, he knows it's the residue of the meds but the truth it holds is real. Some might claim it moved too fast but four years too slow was Roman's argument.

“Well I would hope so” Virgil replies playing with his hair, its soft under his fingers and Roman doesn't mind. He lifts his head up and stares in Virgil's eyes, you really can get lost in them, the ebony mystery behind them. Roman's next move could be deemed as impulsive, fast, but to him? It was perfect.

He leans in placing his hand on Virgil's cheek. He won't have to watch his reaction as he shuts his eyes and let his heart get the best of him. His lips meet the detectives and everything falls away. It's different than expected, that would happen when you imagine the moment so many times it's hard to believe its happening. It is harder to believe that Virgil, though caught off guard for a moment, returns the gesture. They both know, consciously the need to breathe but both want nothing more than to remain connected. Virgil pulls away first making sure his hand stays interlaced with Romans. The warmth transferring from Roman's hand onto his cheek allows him to melt into it.

“Wow…” Virgil marvels “You're a really bad kisser” He jokes, his eyes glossed over. Roman releases his hold, laughing as he pushes gently against Virgil. They resume leaning against the railing (and one other) both releasing a sigh, with it so do their worries for the night.

“Well, this was fun” Roman taps the railing lightly beginning his venture back into the room. Virgil chuckles shaking his head, he turns taking Romans hand pulling him towards him. Curious, perhaps. Desperate? Mayhaps. Desiring? Absolutely. He kisses Roman, wanting nothing more than to stay like this.

“Woah there,” Roman says once they separate. “Take it easy, I'm on a date” Roman quips

“Whatever Princey,” Virgil says “Come on, let's go dance”

Romans never felt happier. Should they never talk about it, Roman was flying that night.

~~~

“Logan!” Patton cries finally identifying the lawyer in the middle of the bustling people. Logan takes Patton's shoulders grounding the excited man. He squeals through a grin, his body vibrating in Logan's hold.

“Yes, Patton?” Logan chuckles, Pattons smile only grows.

“I just saw the most amazing thing!” He exclaims turning around as people eye him, his voice becomes hushed now “Roman and Virgil, out on the balcony...kissing!” He announces, Logan's grip loosens and his enthusiasm disappears.

“Oh, that's wonderful” Logan remarks dryly, he is happy for them of course, it just feels as though the world has been progressing without him.

“Logan! It's more than wonderful! Those two have been dancing around each other for years!” Patton can feel his cheeks hurting but he doesn't care, the night just lights up, the music swelling and his heart bursting. “Oh, I'm so happy” He swoons “Oh! And they're going home together and then they'll cuddle and just have a wonderful night!” Patton hopes

“How many drinks have you had?” Logan questions, staring at the almost dazed figure. Patton, keeping his smile bright lowers his eyes.

“I don't drink, I had a few sugary drinks but nothing alcoholic” he assures, Logan bites his tongue feeling awful at the assumption. Also completely aware of Patton's disdain for alcohol. “I should sit” He jokes dryly, Logan nods leading him over to one of the high-tables. “How's your night?” He wonders, sipping some water that had been placed complementary on the tables.

“Mundane” Logan replies, instantly regretting his words as Patton's grin only dims. “But better, now that I have…” You “Someone to talk to, I never really care for these events” He gestures at the room, the energy behind them buzzing.

“Understandable” Patton nods, he sighs watching as the room only grows stronger. “I'm so excited to go home and see the twins” Patton hangs on the words, stretching at the idea. “Oh! And Barb and Marcy! I feel as though I haven't seen them for ages” He moans

“Well, you don't have to stay” Logan offers, collecting his keys from his coat pocket. The sweet jingle meaning a lot to Patton. He had been here for hours not sure who dropped him off. Riding him in comfortable silence, with a light tune playing as the pair teased each other accidentally meeting somewhere along the dashboard? Well, it sounded more than perfect.

“Oh! But I've barely done anything” Patton says wistfully, his eyes fixed on the option to escape to the warmth of his home. However, he organized the event, he did most of the work he should be here, waiting it out still what's left are the remnants of a spectacular evening.

“How about a dance, one dance and then we can go?” Logan proposes extending his hand, Patton bites his lower lip before taking his hand and invitation. A familiar shock zaps them both, their fingers fitting perfectly together. The lawyer leads him across the floor as the sound slows and a sweet tune plays. A jazzy tone as they brace in each other's arms, Logan leads feeling it be the safer option. Patton, being exhausted, lets him lead. The drowsy motions of the lawyer only add to the soft touch they grace the dancefloor with. The song ends almost too soon, neither had been able to look anywhere but each other. Lingering if only for a second before applauding the night away.

“That was perfect” Patton relaxes content, feeling the energy drain from him as he ascends from his sugary throne. “Thank you” He whispers, seems their hands still connected.

“Home?” Logan twirls his fingers in Pattons, a quick tickle hits the pair.

“Home” he confirms.

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leiascully · 4 years

Text

The Wong End of the Telescope

By @agirlcalledNarelle: submission for Angst fic exchange in Apr 2020. Prompt was ‘Mulder and Scully on the run angst’! Trigger warning: suicide reference, disordered eating. How did Mulder & Scully end up in the UH?

6,8K words. Here on AO3

Cotton candy pink grazed the tops of the darkened hills. It was the hour of magical thinking, when dreams fuse with reality and imaginary adventures are tethered once more by the earth’s physical laws. Scully pulled up at a trailer park, her eyes on the dirt track in front of her rather on the hills above. The energy of the hour moved around her like the parted Red Sea. Mulder stirred beside her, stretching his arms over his head, and wiped spittle from the side of his mouth.

‘Where are we?’ His voice was hoarse from sleep. He looked at her in a daze, so boyish and trusting, having slept for the last seven hours. She wanted to reach over and stroke his warm, pink cheek, but instead she sat on her hands and stared outside.

‘Crockett, Texas.’

‘Why?’

‘Sun was coming up,’ she answered tersely. ‘It meets the criteria, and we’ve been on the go for over 12 hours.’

The sky was now a cloudless blue. Dry air promised a hot day ahead. Their last town had been in flat and endless prairie country. Scully had ached to see mountains, the hodgepodge of nature competing for survival, so she subconsciously delivered them to a town surrounded by hills in the neighbouring national park. She used to like arriving. She would enjoy discovering what made each town tick, uncovering their customs and values, until she realised every place was the same in that they would one day leave it behind.

The door to the trailer park reception opened and a dishevelled woman eyed them suspiciously.

‘We don’t open til 7,’ she called, her features distorted with annoyance. ‘Y’all will just have to wait til then.’

Scully looked at her watch: it was 6:55am. Mulder opened his mouth to speak, but Scully got there first.

‘That’s fine, we can wait. Thanks for letting us know.’ She attempted a smile, but it sat foreign on her lips. The woman said nothing and closed the door.

‘It’s only five minutes, Scully,’ Mulder muttered, kicking the gravel. ‘I’m sure she could have sprung us a key.’

‘What’s the point in drawing attention to ourselves?’ Scully replied sharply. ‘We just got here. I don’t want to have to leave before we’ve even had breakfast because you’ve gone and made yourself all memorable. We’re living by your rules, you know.’

Yesterday, she had returned to their trailer to find Mulder urgently packing the car. Gotta move, he had said. The Sheriff had come into the store where Mulder worked stacking shelves, and Mulder didn’t like the way he’d answered the Sheriff’s innocent questions. Felt there was too much room for scrutiny, and he got his feeling. The feeling when someone looked at them for too long or asked too many follow up questions. Before she’d had a chance to shower, they were leaving town.

At precisely 7am, the sign on the door of the lodge switched from Closed to Welcome! We’re open. Scully paid in cash for a week while Mulder sulked by the car. She left him to carry in the bags while she entered the stuffy trailer in search of the bed.

She found work a café off a main road which offered all-day breakfasts for the laborers, and milkshakes and relative privacy for the high schoolers. The first time Mulder had been a fugitive, the Lone Gunmen had set up a couple of bank accounts in different names for him to access. Now they were nearing the end of their second year on the run as a pair, and without the Gunmen’s help, they worked to supplement themselves. As Mulder liked to say, their opportunities dried up as quickly as the money in those accounts.

Ed, the manager, had thought Scully would be perfect for front of house. She preferred something along the lines of washing dishes and his expression revealed that it wasn’t the first time he’d received such a request. He’d looked her up and down and nodded slowly. Shift is 6am to 2pm, 6 days a week, Ed said daringly, you think you can handle that?

Scully filled up the sink on her first day when a boy entered, skinny, with mousy brown hair in need of a trim. He slipped an apron over his standard teen uniform of black jeans, band t-shirt and converse. She guessed he was 17, maybe 18 years old. He stopped still at the sight of her.

‘Who are you?’ His voice was both deep and weedy, still adjusting to itself.

‘Denise.’ Another of Mulder’s rules: keep the same initial. Easier to roll off your tongue. ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m Chet. I’m the morning waiter until 2pm, when Sasha’s in.’ He reached across her to wash his hands. It had been a while since someone other than Mulder has stood in such close proximity. Feeling crowded, she inhaled quickly and concentrated on tying her hair up. ‘You’re different to the last washer.’ Scully didn’t say anything. ‘You new in town? Did you just arrive?’

‘You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?’ Scully busied herself with the pots, and Chet took the hint. They didn’t talk for the rest of the shift.

‘Do you think it will work?’ Mulder asked when she returned 8 hours later, accompanied by the smell of cooking oil. The afternoon was caught under a bell jar, hot and still. Mulder was sprawled on the bed with newspapers spread in front of him, looking for any information that could potentially threaten them. Scully was sure that, should she ever ask him, he wouldn’t be able to articulate exactly what he was looking for.

‘It’s fine.’ She removed her shoes and sat on the end of the bed. Her feet were humming from the day’s work followed by the 3 mile walk back. ‘Same as that place in Burlington.’

‘Kansas?’

‘Sure.’ She crawled fully onto the bed and tucked her hand under the pillow, her back to Mulder.

‘Good. The more anonymous the better.’ Mulder pulled the papers from under her. ‘It looks like there are two local newspapers, but the most popular one here is USA Today.’

‘Well that’s a surprise.’

‘Whatever, Scully. I’m not doing this for fun.’ She felt him lie down next to her. The hairs on her back stood to attention, hoping he wouldn’t touch. The silence between them was a black hole, and Scully jumped right in.

‘I found work at a local motel. They’re renovating for Summer.’ Mulder said quietly after a few minutes.

‘Ok.’ Scully stayed on her side.

‘I stocked up at the store, so we don’t have to go for a little while. Do you want anything to eat?’

‘No.’ She closed her eyes against the daylight.

The mirror in the trailer was placed such that she could only see her shoulders up. Mulder had to crouch to see himself, and Scully very nearly had to stand on tiptoes. Before, this would have made her laugh.

Around her 40th birthday, she had gone through a phase of avoiding mirrors altogether, but now she studied her reflection with interest. Her pronounced clavicle snaked around the bottom of her neck like two thin arms buried under the skin threatening to strangle her. Feathery lines sat under her eyes from months of squinting at the road. Her cheekbones slid into shadowed gorges and levelled out to her soft chin, slack and furry with little hair. Freckles splattered like paint on a pale canvas. Grey dominated the natural auburn at her temples so that when she pulled her hair into a ponytail her mother’s face gazed back at her. The first time she saw the likeness she had gasped, remembering her father sitting next to her Christmas tree, little Emily asking to be set free in a wooden church. From then on, her hair was always down unless at work.

Mulder made her wear a baseball cap when she was out. If she dyed her hair, she was allowed to leave the cap at home. The idea of being anything other than a shade of red panicked her: this was her last thing. She was already hollowed out, a tinman pretending to have a heart. If she lost her hair colour, she felt she would finally rust over and be lost forever. What else did she have left?

Scully was scrubbing stubborn scrambled eggs from a large frying pan. The effort made her arm ache, and she felt slightly dizzy. Though they had shared fewer than 10 sentences since she started a week ago, she welcomed a break when Chet walked quickly into the kitchen.

‘Trade places with me,’ He said urgently. She looked at him properly for the first time. His head was ducked, chin covered in the duckling fluff of a teen too keen to prove his maturity. He was tall, she realised. She hadn’t realised how tall, given his movements were soft and quick. She wondered what his mother felt when she looked at him.

‘Why?’ She asked suspiciously. ‘I need to stay back here.’

‘Please, would you just do it for me?’ He pleaded. Scully scanned the room to see a table of girls laughing over their menus.

‘You want to avoid those girls?’

‘Something like that,’ Chet mumbled, cheeks flushed. Scully sighed and took the apron out of his hands, her palms sweaty with nerves. She took their order and found she had forgotten how to move her face. Her reactions felt too big, too staged. She tested her limits by taking another order from another girl sat by herself. When she returned to the kitchen, Chet had scrubbed off the remaining egg.

‘Thanks,’ he said gratefully.

‘I’m not going to do it again,’ she snapped, snatching the brush from his hands. He left, and she leaned against the sink, hating herself for snapping. After almost three years on the run, her ability to make connections was off. She wrapped her right thumb and middle finger around her left wrist, measuring its circumference. Her wrist didn’t touch the fingers, and she was pleased when she could circle her wrist freely their grip. The bubbles in the sink crackled as they burst, slowly revealing a yellow glob of egg.

She would wake before Mulder to get to the café on time. He slept soundly, in a way he never could previously, on his back with an arm over his head. The conspiracy hadn’t been enough: he needed to be fully consumed by something, eaten, removed from life as he knew it, before he found peace.

He was enjoying his current line of work. She could tell because he once described the paint brush gliding like a toboggan, or by his swagger as he removed his t-shirt after a day of manual labour. Previously he was all about exposing the designs of others; now he was the creator. He was proud of himself. She had picked a hangnail on her pinkie, dry from constantly being in water, as he told her a tale about some wood and nails. Or it might have been shelves and a spirit level. She hadn’t listened too closely, knowing that whatever he found here would last only as long as he felt safe. Soon the time would come when his house of cards would fall.

‘What are you doing here, anyway, Ms Denise?’ Chet asked her. He was standing in the doorway, at a loose end. Rain kept the breakfast regulars away. Scully’s wet ponytail was plastered down her back and her soaked t-shirt stuck to her leggings. Her hipbones, sharp and round like pin heads, pressed against the sink as she leaned over, missing the usual padding of a dry t-shirt. They would bruise by the end of the day.

‘What do you mean?’ She asked flatly. With no customers, she kept busy by dismantling and cleaning the fat fryer.

‘Just that.’ Chet helped her remove one of the baskets. ‘Why did y’all come to Crockett? To work in a café? What’s the story?’

‘No story. Just in need of a job.’

‘No story.’

‘Nope.’

‘You’re here just because you need a job. All on your lonesome.’

‘Yep.’ She popped the ‘p’ sound at the end.

‘My uncle had a friend who just turned up out of nowhere,’ Chet said. ‘Turns out he had two different families over in Louisiana. Weren’t long before he got sprung and had to go back. Now he’s awaiting trial for polygamy.’

‘So what?’ Her forehead suddenly prickled with sweat and she wiped it with her wrist. She met his gaze and held it in a silent threat.

‘Nothing’s never nothing, s’all I’m saying.’ Chet left to serve a customer, and Scully exhaled shakily. The oil mixed with the soap in the sink to create rainbows on the slimy surface. This kid was smart. A liability best kept to herself for now.

Scully ate an apple each morning as she meandered down the dirt roads to work, its crunch made louder by the darkness. She emptied her mind and savoured her surroundings, appreciating each ditch in the road, and the way a particular shrub resembled a sheep as she passed the ‘Welcome to Crockett!’ sign. Sporadic streetlights illuminated her solitary figure like the beacon of a lighthouse.

They had started out as crusaders, underdogs who would come out on top having prevented the end of the world. However, it was clear a few weeks in that without FBI resources, and the very real talents of the Gunmen, they were doomed to exist on the fringes of society, chasing wicker men. On their first night running she had told Mulder that she wouldn’t accept defeat if he didn’t, a memory that now makes her prickle with discomfort. That Scully is a high school student scribbling love hearts on her exercise books. That Scully doesn’t realise that unconditional love is actually anguish, pain, boredom, compromise, rage, sacrifice, not just sometimes but all the time until you’re so far in you can’t see where you stop and the other begins.

She used to feel like Mulder was the one holding the other end of the rope. But while they had been distracted buying cheap second-hand cars with high mileage, crossing state lines, eating store-bought sandwiches in the middle of the night, the rope had frayed and snapped. They each still had their end, but their futile attempts to mend it hurt so much that after a while, she just stopped trying.

‘Scully?’

My name, she thought idly as she swam from the depths of sleep. Not my never name, though. Not Dana. It’s my sometimes name. She tried to ignore it, but it repeated until she slowly became aware of her dull head, her dry mouth, of Mulder’s voice coaxing her back to him.

‘Mmmh?’ Forcing her eyes open, she saw Mulder sat on the bed. He didn’t touch her, she noted, and her shoulder shivered in the absence of his hand. The space in the trailer compacted with Mulder’s return. The walls closed in as he crossed the threshold and there wasn’t enough room for her. She could see his mind humming with thoughts, but not knowing what they were, she would feel like an intruder.

‘You’re asleep again.’ He said with a hint of accusation.

‘Mmmh.’ She closed her eyes and sighed. If she was lucky, she could fall back to sleep quickly.

‘I’ve brought food.’

‘What?’

‘I’ve brought food.’

‘Oh. I ate at work.’

‘That was 6 hours ago.’ She opened her eyes again. It was 8pm already? ‘You were sleeping when I came home at 6, and it looks like you’ve not moved.’

‘I took a sandwich home with me,’ Scully lied. ‘You woke me when you left again, I ate then.’

He met her eyes and she realised she couldn’t remember the last time they’d properly looked at each other. His face was worn. She spied blue paint by his ear. He hadn’t shaved in a few days. Like her, he had flecks of grey around his hairline, and his eyes seemed smaller among the creases of his cheeks. But there was energy coursing behind his irises. He can handle this, she realised enviously. This lifestyle suited him.

She shrank as he studied her in return. He had always been interested in her mind, had always valued her level-headed scientific approach. She knew he had found her beautiful at some point, but his true love affair was with her intellect. She counted on the fact that he wouldn’t ever really see her. She liked feeling invisible. But now he had noticed what she saw when she looked at her reflection.

‘Are you eating enough?’ His question landed heavily in her stomach. She circled her left wrist with her right fingers and twisted, drawing confidence from the gap.

‘Yeah.’ She avoided his eyes.

‘Are you sure, Scully?’

‘I told you, I already ate.’

‘You look thin.’

Scully fluffed her pillows and lay back down again. ‘It’s just from being on my feet all day. And the walk there and back.’

‘Do you need a ride there each day? I can get up earlier. I don’t want you –’

‘I’m fine, Mulder. Please.’ She rolled away from him, not caring that she was still fully clothed. She felt sleep stalking her in the periphery and prostrated herself ready for it to snatch her.

The first rule Mulder created was that they avoid being in public together, the net result being a lot of alone time for her when her shift finished. She was to go home straight away. He would pick up their groceries on his way home, comfortable with his own vulnerability, but he resisted her attempts at independence beyond what was absolutely necessary.

Every day the trailer was oppressed by afternoon heat. The air refused to move so it felt like she was wading through blankets. She would sleep the afternoons away, passing out so heavily that she felt drugged when she awoke, limbs heavy, clinging on to unconsciousness as her senses fired up. More than once, she thought she was still in her Georgetown apartment, and it took a few minutes to remember. She would try to wake up before Mulder came home, but recently that was proving more challenging.

Her bones were dragging.

‘Can you trade with me again?’ Chet arrived at her elbow. She instinctively took a step back. ‘Please?’

‘I told you the last time,’ Scully replied, ‘no. I need to stay here.’

‘Please. I can’t go out there.’ He sounded so desperate that she sighed and scanned the restaurant for the table of girls.

‘I don’t see those girls here,’ she said.

‘That group of girls? With the headbands and the lettermen?’ Chet scoffed. ‘No, not them.’

‘Then who?’ Curious, Scully couldn’t help but look again. She saw in the corner a small girl with brown hair to her shoulders reading a book. ‘That girl over there?’

Chet backed away, his cheeks blushing

‘Yeah,’ he sighed. ‘Amanda Jones.’

‘She seems nice?’ Scully asked, unsure of what to say.

‘She is nice.’ He ran his hands over his hair. ‘She’s super smart, and she really thinks about things. She’s not one of those girls you saw the other day…’

‘Those other girls don’t think?’ Scully bristled at Chet’s casual dismissal.

‘I don’t know if they do or not. But they’re not very nice.’ He paused, looking out at Amanda. ‘Please. I can’t go out there.’

Scully sized him up before holding her hand out for his apron. She remembered how teenage love teetered between affirming and soul destroying. The girl looked up and ordered a coffee with such self-possession that even Scully had to admit she was impressed.

Dana pulled up outside her mother’s dark house. It was 7pm and she was expected for dinner, but she was met with silence. Her mother’s purse was on the hall table. Shopping sat on the kitchen counters. There was a sweet, fermented smell of rotting fruit.

Professional instincts kicking in, she drew her weapon and checked downstairs before making her way upstairs. Her mom was on the bathroom floor, eyes closed and congealed blood at her temple.

‘Mom!’ Dana cried as she kneeled beside her. She patted her mother’s cheek urgently, and Maggie’s eyelids fluttered open. Relief washed over Dana and her arms shook as she moved.

‘Dana….’ Maggie whispered. ‘I fell….’

‘Mom, I’m gonna help you,’ Dana was unable to stop her voice from wavering. She held a damp washcloth against the side of her mother’s head. ‘When did this happen?’

‘Two days ago maybe… or three…I’m not really sure.’ Scully held a second wet, clean cloth to her mom’s lips for her to suck. ‘I couldn’t get to the phone…. I’ve been here for such a long time.’

Maggie closed her eyes and went limp. Dana felt her mother’s pulse weaken, and she screamed.

Scully sat bolt upright, throat wheezing as she desperately sucked in air. She panted, sweat rolling down her back as she held her hands out to orient herself. There was the bedside table. There was the side of the bed. There was Mulder, his strong back to her, snoring. Her mother was back at home, and Scully had to believe she was alive and well.

She slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Mulder, and sat on the steps outside. It was warm enough to sit in her t-shirt. She put her arms around her knees and lit a cigarette. She struggled to sleep past 2am these days.

Some nights she would reach around Mulder to wake him with her hands. She would take him in her mouth, and he would push her head until she gagged. Their bodies grew slippery together, and she would dig her nails into his back to gain traction as she sat on him, feeling him plunge into the cavernous depths of her. She would cry his name – his real name - in her throaty voice, the black night their only witness. It was always quick, vicious, and she rarely had her turn although she didn’t want that. She wanted to be entered, to be filled up. They wouldn’t speak after, but the next day there would be a new charge in the current between them which almost made the situation almost bearable.

Most nights, however, she would simply sit outside and smoke. She savoured her secret cigarettes, this tasty rebellion. The orange glow soared through the air like a grown-up sparkler.

The expanse of the stars made her mind spin as she gazed upwards. She remembered her childhood astronomy, spotting the Big Dipper and the Big Bear. She heard her father’s commentary. In these moments, Scully wondered if she was even really there. She might blow away on the wind’s currents, floating higher and higher until she was as far away as the stars. She felt like she was looking at life through the wrong end of the telescope.

The day in May came, around which all others moved, and she dragged herself to the café when all her instincts told her to stay in bed and spend the day remembering his gummy smile and the sound of his cry.

The day before, she had eyed a bottle of whiskey as she replenished her clandestine cigarettes on her way home but had ultimately decided against it. Throughout the years they had both tried to escape this day via alcohol. For her, it resulted shame and hazy memories of tear-soaked grief, Mulder’s clumsy hands holding her hair back as she vomited, raging against his strength as he tried to contain her. On his part, he turned inwards, growing snarky, mean and morose. He channelled his energy towards the cruellest insults which swirled in her head for months after. You call yourself a mother? You give him up and then claim to be a mother? You’re a selfish bitch, Scully, that’s what you are, and you have to live with that for the rest of your life.

At the café, she saw Chet hanging around her sink. Her heart sank when he smiled as she approached. She wasn’t sure she could handle him today.

‘Ms Denise!’ He greeted her enthusiastically. ‘I have news.’

Scully said nothing and turned the tap on. Chet wasn’t put off by her indifference, having worked with her for 7 weeks now and seen little else.

‘I was riding home from work yesterday and I saw Amanda had a puncture,’ his thin, reticulin fingers gesticulated as spoke, ‘so I helped her fix it, and we walked home together and had the best conversation. Turns out she’s reading '1984’, which is my favourite book. We both think it’s so clever, you know, how they reduce thought by altering language. Kinda like what’s going on now, all this war on terror talk. You know what I mean?’ He laughed to himself. ‘Man, I can’t believe she actually spoke to me.’

Scully shook her head slightly to refocus. She was bothered by something he said.

‘You love '1984’?’ She asked, looking directly at him. He had shaved his fluff but kept a small, patchy moustache on his baby face. His hair had greasy roots, and she wanted to tell him to take a shower. He was clean and musty at the same time. ‘How old are you, Chet?’

‘I’m 19. I’ll be 20 in October.’

‘Why aren’t you in college?’ She asked sharply. He raised his eyebrows cynically.

‘College? What college am I going to go to?’ He replied, voice squeaking. ‘You’ve seen this town, there’s no college here.’

‘You’re a smart guy.’ Scully seethed at the waste of his potential. ‘There are colleges nearby, with scholarships –‘

‘No, I’m just gonna work here, get some money behind me,’ Chet interrupted. ‘I’ve been talking to Ed, maybe one day I can take over this place.’

‘Chet, you can have bigger dreams than the local café for the next forty years,’ Scully was desperate to make this boy see the world was bigger than this. ‘You can do whatever you want.’

He shook his head slowly. ‘No, I can’t. I’m not that guy.’

‘Chet….’ She saw his face harden.

‘Anyway, what about you?’

‘What about me?’

‘What all are your dreams, why are you lecturing me about mine?’ His voice was raised, and Scully’s heart ticked like a metronome on the highest setting. She stepped back from the sink. This was too much attention. ‘You’re hiding something. You don’t wash your hands like a normal person. I reckon a doctor, or surgeon, someone who has to keep clean. And then there’s that cornfed guy working at the motel on the other side of town. Funny how he pops up same week as you, same accent as you, yet you don’t know nothing about anything. So who are you really, Ms Denise?’

He reeled, surprised at his outburst. Scully blinked back tears, her hands shaking as adrenaline bled through her. He reminded her so much of Mulder: observant, passionate, gentle, and he had her number. Yet this wasn’t her mini-Mulder. He was elsewhere celebrating this day with strangers, and she was in a kitchen in small town Texas. She heard waves crash in her ears.

‘I’m nothing,’ she muttered, and pushed past Chet. ‘Excuse me, I’m not feeling well.’

He called her name as she ran out the back door and threw up beside the bins. It felt good. Chunks of apple, half dissolved by acid, lay at her feet, and her teeth chattered. Chet appeared with a glass of water which she took gratefully. Her stomach churned as the water hit, but it stayed down.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. He stood next to her, unsure of what to do. ‘Today is a hard day.’

‘I can tell Ed you’re not well,’ Chet said awkwardly. ‘You should go… I can handle it today.’

It was mid-morning by the time she turned down the dirt road towards the trailer park. Mulder would have just left for work, and she wanted to crawl in bed and close off the day. She wasn’t sure what four-year olds were even like: she had a vague recollection of Matthew being into trains. She couldn’t imagine his hair colour, what his voice sounded like, whether he could count to twenty, or if he could do puzzles. She had no idea, and her ignorance of rudimentary childhood development made her feel worse.

On a whim, she ignored her thirst and walked past the trailer park entrance to the natural bushland at the end of the road, lured by the refreshing shades of green. The ground was covered in grass, with natural tracks running between the trees. Leaves and sticks scraped her ankles as she walked, and she soon found herself deep within the bushland, with only the track behind her for navigation.

She walked until her shin bones ached. Suddenly the path dropped away. The cliff was 40 feet or so and framed by the overhanging branches from the nearby trees. A creek ran through the lush valley at the base of the cliff. It looked so quiet, so unspoiled. She crept closer to the drop and looked down to see rocks directly below her. Standing tall, the breeze blew temptingly across her face and her toes crept over the edge. Then the balls of her feet. Her weight shift to her heels. She knew if she closed her eyes, her balance would falter, and who knew which way she would fall? The risk appealed. She felt dizzy. Reckless. Her hands opened by her side, her fingers stretching downwards to feel the breeze on her palms. She imagined feeling weightless.

A rustle next to her made her jump back, her natural instinct to survive proving to be stronger than her desperation to for everything to stop. She fell as she retreated, landing hard on her coccyx. The pain brought tears to her eyes, and for the first time in a long time, she heard herself cry. Her chest heaved twice, three times, as she inhaled to support more sobs. Pain dripped like mercury from her fingers. She gripped her hair by its roots and let out a huge scream which echoed around the valley as her rage tumbled out. It was a relief to finally feel something. A fox squirrel shot out from under the scrubland and stood still, eyeing her as she wept. It tilted its head and ran up a tree trunk. Her right fingers wrapped around her left wrist, and she twisted her wrist in the gap. Tears splashed on the rocks beside her.

When she got back to the motel, Scully stayed away from the bedroom. She drank three glasses of cold water and took her towel to lie on the grass outside of the trailer, enjoying the solid ground beneath her shoulder blades. Studying the leaves above her, she realised that she still had choices. She could decide things. She could identify her limits, but it came down to how much she was prepared to fight for herself. She was a hologram of the person she used to be, and she wondered if she even had the strength to stand up. Eventually she was lulled to sleep by the rhythmic lullaby of leaves in the breeze.

She woke when Mulder pulled up. Her sleep had been light, leaving her unusually refreshed. The importance of the day crashed on her chest once more, but she recognised a very, very slight shift in perspective: today could be about more than grief. What should I do with this, she wondered.

‘Scully?’ He approached her with caution, wearing his own memories of this day on his face. ‘What are you doing out here?’

‘It’s a nice day.’ She folded her towel and stood. ‘I just wanted to be outside.’

That evening, they sat outside with a beer to toast their son. They talked, though not about William. He was interested in her trip to the bushland. She told him about the sound the trees made, and the squirrel, but not how the whispers of the breeze had dared her to see if she really was immortal.

She had grown used to the smell of old cooking oil and grease. It seeped into her skin and her hair. Having been there for two and a half months, it smelled as much like home as anywhere had. Half-way through her shift one Tuesday morning, she asked for a plate of scrambled eggs, which the chef handed to her in surprise. Out back, past the bins, she found Chet on his break, and sat wordlessly beside him.

‘You taking a break today?’ He asked incredulously. ‘You never take a break.’

They had reached a truce after William’s birthday: he chewed her ear off about whatever he wanted, and she offered sparse but pertinent advice. Each day, he brought her some new piece of information about the youth of the town, and she found herself invested in spite of herself.

‘First time for everything,’ she replied, hoping she sounded light, carefree. The fork was awkward in her right hand, plate balanced on her lap. The eggs were yellow and solid; she sliced into them with the side of her fork. They felt like stones clogging her throat. Her mouth salivated as she ate. Scully tried to ignore how heavy the food felt inside her stomach and cleared her throat nervously. ‘Can I eat with you tomorrow too?’

‘Sure thing, Ms Denise.’ Chet balled up the paper from his bacon sandwich. ‘You don’t have to ask.’

She managed half her plate, and fought against the itch in her fingers, the urge to lock herself in the bathroom afterwards.

That afternoon, as she was leaving the Mom and Pop store, Chet and Amanda cycled past. He was in front, and he said something which made her throw her head back in laughter, her hair trailing behind like a mermaid. Scully felt a spark in her chest: a tiny flame, a burst of energy. She drew warmth from its glow.

They started to spend the warm evenings outside together, the fog between them slowly dissipating. She told Mulder about the legend of the Ozark Howler, a cat-like creature with horns and glowing eyes. It was said to be found in the Ozarks but there were sightings as far reaching as Texas too. Mulder’s core ignited with new folklore, curling himself towards her in his plastic chair. She presented tidbits of information to him like proud child. They found themselves in a discussion of whether it’s realistic for one cat-like creature to cover so much geography, or if it meant a growing species, and whether that contributed to or undermined its veracity. His eyes narrowed when he learned that Chet had told her about it. Careful Scully, his tone immediately changing, you don’t want to get too close. Keep your distance. She had smiled thinly, ruffled his hair, and walked back inside before he could see her tears because, for just a minute, she had forgotten and they had felt like a normal couple again.

‘Mulder?’ Scully approached Mulder as he lay on the couch in the tiny living room reading the papers. Three months in and she could see he was starting to twitch. It wouldn’t be long until he wanted to up sticks, and she wanted to get in first.

‘What’s up, doc?’ He smiled. She sat next to him and pressed her knees together. She had recently bought some dye to patch over her grey hairs. Her cheeks were starting to fill out with her daily plate of eggs, though she still couldn’t consider anything more solid without her palms sweating. She noticed he had started to look at her differently: he had stopped looking through her, and she felt herself take up more space.

‘Mulder…..’ She sighed and looked at the floor. ‘Mulder, I need to go home.’ She glanced up and saw shock, fear, pass over his face.

‘Go home?’ he repeated dumbly. ‘Scully, I can’t…. you know what waits for me there.’

Scully closed her eyes, not wanting to remember Mulder’s sentence: death by lethal injection. The danger had always been real, but somewhere along the way she had lost the sense of it as she had lost herself. With this request, she had to face it once more.

‘There must be a way,’ she said, her voice shaky. ‘Please. It’s… I’m …. I’m not doing well. I’m… vanishing.’

‘I know that Scully,’ he said in his crinkly voice that reached into the dark shadows of her. ‘I see you. I think you’re right, I think you may have reached the end of this road. But what choice do I have?’

‘There must be a way,’ she repeated, the lump in her throat making her voice thin and tight. ‘We can email Skinner. I don’t want to leave you. I hate the thought you being by yourself.’ She paused to compose herself and reached for his hand. ‘You’re good at this life. You know how to duck and weave. The threat gives you energy, purpose, as it always has. I see you too, you know.’

‘You’re my gal. You’ve always seen all of me.’ He kissed her knuckles. ‘I know you’re struggling. I don’t know the last time I saw you eat more than a banana. I wake in the night and you’re not there.’ She stiffened but made herself stay in the conversation. It was the first honest talk they’d had in months. ‘But can you give me some time? Just a little. Please, Scully. Let me get my head around it some more.’

‘Mulder….. There’s Matthew. My Mom.’ She hiccupped the last word, and to her frustration, started to cry, releasing the pressure in her chest. She wiped her eyes. ‘I mean, what is our plan here, exactly? Wait for an apocalypse that we’re powerless to stop? Well, I don’t want to welcome that one without my family. Or maybe it doesn’t happen, and we run for the next 20 years. Or do we draw the line at 30 years? And what happens if you fall from a ladder, or even just get tonsillitis?’

They sat in silence. Mulder had abandoned the newspaper, and Scully circled her wrist. There was still a sizeable gap and her satisfaction at this quickly turned to guilt.

‘Ok, Scully.’ Mulder said finally, exhaling heavily. ‘Let’s email Skinner. See if there are options.’

That Sunday they drove two hours out of town to a random internet café. Mulder set up an email account and then they sent Skinner a cryptic message. Mulder drove three hours in the opposite direction two days later to see his reply, and he didn’t let Scully come. Too conspicuous for both of them to miss a day of work, he’d reasoned. Scully had wanted to throw her coffee mug at the wall in frustration.

They hadn’t spent more than a work shift apart since 2002, and Scully was bereft as she waited. She dropped a stack of plates at work, and spent the afternoon peeking out of the trailer window at the sound of every car rumble. It felt like snakes had taken up residence in her stomach.

She was sat the small table in the kitchen when he returned, a plate of celery, carrots and hummus in front of her. She cried out with relief as she heard the car pull up and ran to hug him as he exited the car. His sweater was soft, and she remembered how solid she felt when her body locked against his.

Once inside, he handed her a printout from the now deleted email account. Scully scanned it, seeing words like pardon, obstruction of justice, requalification, but her mind raced over the email before she could comprehend its meaning. She looked at him expectantly.

‘It looks like there’s a shot,’ Mulder said nervously, rubbing his palms together. ‘A long shot. Skinner thinks he could get any potential charges against you dropped as long as I continue to lay low. But he thinks there’s a possibility for us both to return.’

‘And we’d be together?’

‘Yes. We could be together.’ He finally slipped a smile. ‘I may not see daylight for the foreseeable future, so I hope you like the anaemic vampiric look.’

Scully covered her face with her hands and pushed all the air out of her lungs. Her fingers were hot, and her head tingled. She laughed, feeling a little light-headed and hysterical. She pictured her Mom’s face and the laugher turned to loud sobs of relief. Mulder kissed her head and held her tightly while she calmed. The energy in his eyes had already been replaced with fear, and she realised the price of the choice he had just made for her. For them.

‘Pack your things Scully,’ He started pulling their bags from the cupboard. ‘We gotta move.’

#submitted #submission #submission summer 2k20

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loxonstag · 4 years

Text

It all started on the kind of summer evening you'd expect the heroes to ride off into at the end of the movie.

Jasp was staring at the sunset as we approached. He was standing at the peak of the slope, a tapedeck perched on his shoulder squawking the kind of music you might hear at some arcane ritual, all harsh chanting and dissonant strings.

Luc had to tap him on the shoulder before he'd even acknowledge we were there.

"Brought it, have you?" Jasp cawed, dialling down the volume knob but only a little.

"Right here," I said, rummaging through my pack.

The star-fragment was wrapped in cloth, but Jasp recognised it straight away.

He snatched it away greedily and crammed it inside his own satchel, full to bursting with ill-gotten gains.

We all gazed at the sun for a few moments as it crept below the town.

"My price has gone up," Jasp said the very same moment I was about to clear my throat and ask him to live up to his end of the deal.

"How high?" I croaked.

"High enough that I'll need one more item from you before I consider parting with..." he reached into his shirt pocket and produced a packet of pills, "these."

"That's not fair," I said. "Luc needs those."

"No," Luc said quietly. "It's OK. One more job."

"Promise me you won't won't raise your price any more," I snapped, still gazing at the sun-gilt buildings of the town below.

"I'll only need one more thing," Jasp assured me.

The discordant ritual music reached an ear-rending crescendo. Jasp closed his eyes and allowed it to dissolve into a subdued, hummed coda before he bothered to explain.

"It's a wand," he said simply.

"A wand?" I said.

"A magic wand," he went on, "that sits inside a display case at the Masterford Manor."

We'd heard things about the Masterfords.

Nothing good.

"Jasp..." I murmured wearily. "We've given you enough."

"Just one more thing," Jasp repeated. "I like to charge a fair price, but inflation's inflation, and you gotta keep up with the times."

By now the sun had fully set, and Luc was going pale, the kind of pale he got when he was about to have an episode.

"You're a monster," I muttered, storming down the hill.

I looked back just long enough to see Luc shoot Jasp what seemed to be a sympathetic glance, but it couldn't've been.

Could it?

"Come on, Luc," I called out, and the two of us descended the trash-strewn slope until we found ourselves at the outskirts of the town, all run-down buildings and picket fences with pickets missing.

"You OK?" I asked Luc, who was visibly wincing.

He shrugged off my concern, still wincing every bit as much.

We staggered toward the bus stop, reaching it ten minutes early for the last 55, which would take us close enough to the Masterford Manor that we could walk the rest of the way.

"You sure you're OK?" I said, collapsing on the cold metal bench. "I can drop you off home, do this thing solo."

"I'm OK," he assured me, "I'm OK."

Half an hour later, we realised the bus wasn't going to come.

The trip to Masterford Manor took us more than an hour by foot, and we were both dehydrated by the time we reached the front gates.

We were in the rich part of town, guard dogs and security cameras everywhere.

We were probably known as delinquents around here, having broken several laws in several different houses, but even in the rich part of town, the law these days was a pretty symbolic affair that the state expected you to take into your own hands as long as you had the means to do it, and too bad if you didn't.

As long as you could outrun it, you were safe.

Colonel Masterford, we'd heard, was an expert sniper. He'd fought on the losing side of the last war and so held a grudge against society, as if there were much of society left to hold a grudge against.

We took it as a blessing when we scrambled over the gates and found ourselves un-shot at.

The next step was the front door, which had too many security cameras, so we tried a side door, which only had one, and then none after I'd hurled a rock at it.

Luc, with surprising dexterity given his condition, managed to pick the lock in under a minute, and there we found ourselves in a dimly-lit corridor of the Masterford Manor.

We stumbled around for hours, searching for a display case among cartoonesque suits of late-medieval armour, and paintings so vivid and fantastical they almost seemed like windows into other worlds.

Eventually we crept down a stairwell and into a basement, piled with gold coins and stray artefacts of immense value and even a display case...with nothing inside.

Luc slumped to the floor, sweating hard.

"I'll come back for you," I promised him, and crept back up the stairwell, desperately searching the manor's many empty rooms for another display case.

Eventually I came across what must have been a dining room.

The shadow of what looked like a horse trotted back and forth beside an unlit fireplace.

Tentatively I approached. The creature was the colour of moonlight, and not a horse, I realised...it had a silver horn protruding from its head.

And something else, sharp and needlelike, protruding from its shoulder.

I threw up my hands in a gesture of goodwill, which the creature

seemed to intuit.

I got close enough to see that the sharp thing protruding from its shoulder was a wand.

It turned its head to look at me, sad, defeated, pained eyes.

I'd seen eyes like those before, in my brother. I cursed myself for having left him there, in some hostile stranger's basement.

Very carefully, I reached out to touch the wand.

A sudden surge of ethereal warmth came over me, and a cool, disembodied voice resounded in my head.

"You've found my device," said the voice. "Well done. I grant you three wishes."

"I wish my brother was safe and happy and healthy," I uttered, hoping all that would count as a single wish.

Apparently it did, as the voice did not say anything further, as if awaiting my next wish.

"I wish Jasp no longer wanted this wand. In fact," I had to stop myself at the last second from wishing him dead. "I wish he never wanted anything ever again, and desire was something that passed through him like clouds on a mountaintop."

"Very good," said the voice. "And your last wish."

I patted the horse-like beast and smiled.

"I wish this creature was back home, wherever it's from, free to roam, and no longer in pain."

The creature seemed to nod at me in gratitude before vanishing, along with the wand.

I stood there in a stupor a while, before a horrified notion struck me.

I raced downstairs to the basement to find Luc gone as well.

It was morningtime now, and I heard footsteps resound from some passageway far above, and I knew Colonel Masterford would catch me if I lingered here a moment longer.

I burst open the side door, only to find myself pursued by guard dogs, who bit at my ankles and tore into my flesh as I tried to climb the front gate.

I made it, managing to outrun the hounds, only to find myself in a world of fog, the endless streets that made up the town where I had lived all my life, yet at the same time everything was new to me, and the routes I had known by heart yesterday had turned into a labyrinth of cul-de-sacs and dead ends.

I was alone, a stranger in the only place I'd ever known.

I limped through the morning mists until I found a public library, and sat stooped in a corner between two bookshelves for a while, trying to figure out my way home, until I could only admit there was no home left to go back to.

I wondered if the slope was still there, or if the sun would ever rise above it.

#idek #writing #drabble #text

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a-book-dragon · 5 years

Text

A Valvert fic

Ok.. This piece was quite hard. Please, I BEG YOU, don’t judge my style, English is not my native language though I try to improve every day by reading other people’s works. I write a lot better in my own, Bulgarian.

This is a Post-Seine fic; the characters areValjean, Javert, Cosette and Marius. I label it as fix-fic, a little fluff, a little hurt and comfort, much shipping.

There is no explicit violence or sex here. Only a kissing scene (my first one, wohoo!). So I would rate it “teen and up”.

It’s also the first gay relationship I’ve written (yay for awkward, hot, virgin, probably asexual, but defintely romantic old gay dudes!).

"He isn´t here... how strange", Jean Valjean thought to himself. He quickly got out, just in time to see a shadow disappear behind the corner. The man followed it carefully. He was dirty, exhausted and overwhelmed of all the emotions and dangers of the day, but he suspected that Javert was going to call reinforcements, arrest him and probably attack his home. He didn't care about himself, but Cosette, Toussaint and the rest of the inhabitants were also there. And he knew what Javert was capable of to fulfill the law.

Jean followed him to the bridge. There the other man stared in the river for a long time, entered the police office, went out again (alone, thanks God)! After staring in the river again, Javert suddenly stepped on the guardrail and jumped.

Jean Valjean was puzzled and shocked. But without hesitation, he ran under the bridge. If he jumped right from it, he would collapse hitting in the cold water. The man took off his coat and shoes and dove into the river. In the first moment he felt like all his blood vessels, muscles and bones were frozen. His heart started pumping and he had trouble breathing even before gulping water. It was a torture for his body to hold his head above the lightning-fast waves, let alone save another person.

When he had almost lost hope, Valjean noticed a big black thing (Javert!), grabbed him by the hand, summoned all of his strength and pulled him out of the whirlpool that was about to suck him in the deep. Luckily, he was near the other side of the river and in a desperate attempt caught at a stone of the bridge and climbed on hard ground, dragging the body of Javert. For a long moment, Valjean was just sitting there, coughing loads of water and thanking God, just like he had done earlier this long, long night.

It took him some time to remember that he had a dying man next to him and hurried to do CPR and loosen his clothes. Javert was still alive and breating, so Jean put his own coat on him, lifted him and headed home. All the hospitals were closed at the time, so he decided to bring him to his home. He also had to decide how to explain Cosette the unfortunate event.

"Cosette... I have no choice, I'll reunite her with that guy, Marius. I hope she won't forget me, a miserable man, whom she calls Father without him deserving it...".

These sad thoughts were interrupted by something even more depressing - the weight of the unconscious Javert and his own body, which already refused to function. Gosh, was he tired of carrying fainted guys around. The night wind was biting him, as he was soaked with water. Gladly, they were at the front door of his home. After stumbling against the door, forgetting to open it in the first moment, Valjean brought the body upstairs, entered his apartament silently and put Javert on his bed. He changed him in his own old clothes and put all the blankets he found over him. Then he made a big fire in the fireplace and moved the bed near it.

All of a sudden, he started trembling uncontrollably and collapsed on the ground, almost unconscious. He could only pull the carpet and wrap himself with it before he fell in a dreamless sleep.

…

- Papa! PAPA! - Cosette woke him up, banging on the door.

Gosh. He needed several seconds to remove the carpet, get off the floor (what was he doing there?) and hurry to open the door.

- Cosette, don't enter! - he shouted, got out and slammed it.

- Papa, you never oversleep and always look preppy - the girl, stylish even in her everyday dress, looked critically at the creased and still wet clothes her dad had slept in. – What’s up?

- Umm honey, I had lots of work to do and fell asleep in my chair. And my room is a mess...

- Shall I call Toussaint?

- No, no, I'll sort it out. – the old man cringed. – Isn't it time for you two to do the groceries? By the way, I assure you Marius is now safe in his home, though he has a serious injury. He will be very thankful if you sew some bandage for him.

- Oh yes! Can’t wait to help Marius! First gotta go, but I'll talk to you later, dear monsieur!

He smiled. He used to call her "dear mademoiselle" when she was young to boost her confidence when the girls in the convent bullied her for being ugly. He never understood them. His daughter was the most beautiful girl in the world!

"I'm really getting old, I shouldn't get lost in memories", when Valjean made sure the women were gone, he returned to his room. He was glad to see that Javert was better and his breathing and heartbeat were back to normal. Jean removed all the sharp objects from his sight (the man had tried to commit suicide, after all).

…

Javert opened his eyes while the other man was sitting on his chair with a book to fill his time waiting for him to wake up.

- What? Where am I? - he looked around in confusion.

Valjean peered above the book.

- Ah, at last! You are awake. Do you need anything?

- AAAARGHHHHHHH! - Javert tried to escape, but fell onto the floor, groaning in pain. He lifted his eyes, full of more hate than fear. - JEAN VALJEAN! I only wanted to die, but you´re here to torture me again!

- Stop. - Valjean said firmly, forcing him to go back to bed. - You will hurt yourself.

- Why would you even care - Javert hummed, letting Valjean put him in bed because he had no strength to do anything else. - In your eyes, I shall be a criminal. Like you were in mine.

- Were... well, I'm happy you won't arrest me. – Jean replied with a grin. – And whatever you’ve done, you’re a human in trouble. Isn't it enough? I was actually ready to get arrested. It was your right.

- First, I’m not a “human in trouble”. I am – was – completely capable, it was you who were creating me trouble. Second, stop pretending to be so freaking pure and shaming my own selfish ass! I refuse to talk to a weird person like you. Just give me a knife, ok? Or better, a gun.

- I have a better idea. – Valjean rolled his eyes. – Going to prepare some tea and food. Then I’ll decide what to do with you and how to explain Cosette everything.

- Just throw me in the river, where you took me from.

- I don’t think to do that. All lives are important and no matter if you see the meaning of yours, it has one. God has created humans like that.

- Except your life, right? You threw yourself in a river for a person who WANTED to die, you fake righteous shit with no self-respect!

Javert had no idea what he was saying - he had seen Jean doing lots of crazy and risky things, but he never could've known how the former convict’s memory always turned back to the person he was once. Back then, he was ready to kill, rape, steal, hurt, lie... And what he did was unforgivable. He totally deserved rotting in jail, but he would be more useful raising Cosette, helping the poor and saving people's lives. He hoped to wash away his crimes that way. But he knew he never could.

- You have no answer, your “morals” are so shallow!- Javert turned to the other side.

“Said the one who attempted to end his life because his value system failed him”, Valjean did his best to keep this to himself.

- Oh, I'm such an idiot! The food! – he facepalmed instead, ran to the kitchen and quickly prepared some sandwiches and tea. Brought them to Javert who reluctantly accepted to eat a bit.

Just after that Cosette and Toussaint returned with grocery baskets.

- Umm… I have to tell you what happened last night - Jean said to them after opening the door. – I couldn’t sleep and went for a walk. Then I saw a man in the river, near its side – he had probably fallen of some bridge. I took him here, he’s in my room and will probably stay there for some time before I take him to the hospital. Any objections?

- Of course not, papa! – Cosette smiled. – It’s great that you helped a person!

- He saved me – the girl jumped out of fright, hearing a hoarse voice. – This bastard risked his miserable life to take me out of the river.

Cosette, outraged (in the convent where she had grown saying words like “bastard” was a major sin), stormed into Valjean’s room where Javert was lying.

- How dare you insult my father? If what you’re saying is true, you better be thankful! He has always deserved better than he received, don’t make things worse!

- Young lady, you make me want to end my life even more – Javert rolled his eyes. – Could you please shut up and go play with your dolls?

- Javert, stop. – Valjean interfered, hiding his clenched fists in the pockets of his coat. – My daughter Cosette just loves me too much, she has done you no wrong.

- What an amusing couple are you two! I just have to insult one of you in front of the other and see when I’ll get killed.

- Well, you’re also much more amusing after “falling” in a river. You probably discovered your sense of humor there – Valjean knew this was passive-aggressive, but when it was about Cosette…

- Do you know each other from before? – the girl raised her eyebrow in suspicion.

- We were… coworkers once – this wasn’t a lie, right? When he was Monsieur Madeleine, Javert was his subordinate.

- Whatever, losers. Just let me sleep now. – Javert, who already didn’t care about his pride, image, laws and even life, now had let all his anger and frustration out in the form of sarcasm. Or at least Jean Valjean thought so.

- Geez, papa. I would punch this man, if he wasn’t sick.

- Annoying coworkers, they are everywhere – Jean shrugged.

- By the way, I’m going to prepare some bandage for Marius!

- I’m happy… You will see him soon – her dad had many feelings thinking of this particular moment, but happiness wasn’t one of them.

- Ok, see you at breakfast! – The teenager stormed to her room.

Jean used his time to call a doctor, who took Javert to the hospital. No more sarcasm! But at times he checked how the other man was going, despite of being physically and emotionally busy around Cosette and the wedding preparation.

SOME MONTHS LATER...

Jean Valjean turned back home, sat in his chair and desperatelly covered his face with hands. He wanted to cry, but had no more tears left. Every sign for Marius that he shall leave them alone, every "Mr. Jean" from his dear child Cosette, every refusal for any affection from him... it was killing him. He was doing it to himself, he knew. But who needed him, an old criminal, anymore? He had done his job. And deserved nothing else.

He felt an almost physical pain. The end was near... Then he heard loud banging on the door.

- Enter! - Valjean said.

And they entered. First - Cosette, then - Marius (both handcuffed) and lastly - Javert!

- What is the meaning of that? - Valjean felt as if he was dreaming.

- Papa! - Cosette started jumping around him like a girl. That long-forgotten word soothed the wounds of the old man's soul - You know what happened? Inspector Javert helped us research who had saved him, interrogated my terrible "keeper" Thénardier and all the evidences point to you! Now, inspector, can you remove the handcuffs so I can hug my father?

Javert did it with something that looked like a slight smile. Cosette didn’t seem to hate him anymore.

- Accept my apologies. You're a hero, Mr. Valjean - Marius was all red. – If only I could repay you…

- No problems! You're like my own son - Valjean said sincerely and tears filled his eyes. He was overwhelmed by emotion and unable for stopping them running down his cheeks.

- Oh, Papa! So glad we learned it now! - Cosette noticed them and hugged him. - Sorry for causing you so much pain! You stupid man! You should have told us the whole truth!

- One more month without you would kill him – Marius agreed.

- In reality, he caused the pain to himself, right? - Javert, who was just watching the scene up to now, interrupted them. – This is dumb, because “All lives are important. No matter if you see the meaning of yours, it has one.”

- You're right. I shall forget the past. Thank you, thank you very much! - Valjean stood up and shook Javert’s hand so tightly that he almost broke it.

- No porblems... friend - this word was new for Javert and he stumbled a little. He left the happy family in the room with a little smirk on his face. His first happy smile from years.

2 MONTHS LATER…

In the next 2 months, Javert had been visiting their house so often that he became a part of the family. A quiet and strict part, but still a part. Him and Jean Valjean had long conversations about politics, sociology, economy and law. For Valjean’s surprise, non-fanatic and non-suicidal Javert was a trustworthy and interesting person.

As for Cosette and Marius, they were still living their love bliss and were adorable in their naivety. The old men were often joking about them – good-intentionally, of course.

One evening, when everybody else was sleeping, they were sitting on the balcony, snacking on fruits, wine (and, of course, bread) and having a conversation about the smallest details of their past.

- Amongst the criminals, I was constantly beaten, because they hated my attitude. Once I scolded them to the police and then couldn’t move one week – Javert gulped a big mouthful of wine. – And the decent citizens never paid attention to me, for them I was no more important than a stray dog.

- Sounds terrible – Valjean shook his head and tapped Javert’s shoulder.

- Sorry, you don’t have to listen to my self – pity. I think I’m drunk…

- But you just drank one glass – Jean laughed.

- I have never drank. Probably once… I don’t remember. And what about you, Mr. Righteous? – Javert laughed hoarsely.

- I had to drink all the winters in prison, otherwise I would freeze.

- Really sorry for causing this to you…

- No problems. Now it’s time for you to go home.

- You’re right – Javert lifted himself from the chair, but staggered and convulsively caught to his friend’s collar to not fall on the ground. His breath stopped. Jean looked surprised – but not unpleasantly.

Heat raised to Javert’s head. He leaned forward until their faces were centimeters close. Jean Valjean was blushing hard and his heartbeat could be heard from a meter away. He hesitantly lifted his hand and ran his fingertips up to Javert´s neck. His hand was fiery hot, but it sent shivers down the other man´s spine. Then Valjean stood on his toes, being too short to do otherwise, and pressed a gentle kiss on his lips.

Javert was hanging there awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his hands, grasping for air. Suddenly he grabbed a handful of Jean´s hair and pulled him into a passionate, devouring kiss.

The men didn´t realize how their hands twitched together.

A/N – Though society back then wasn’t tolerant to LGBT people, it was no problem for Jean Valjean and Javert, because they acted like friends or soulmates, loving and respecting each other most of the time, as most old, long-married happy couples do. Their time for mad, perfect love had already passed. Though Cosette suspected something, she just nodded and smiled, happy for her father.

#fanfiction #lesmis #les mis #les miserables #lesmiserables #jean valjean #javert #valjean #valvert #cosette #marius #marius pontmercy #shipping #fanfic #please don't kill me

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blossom862 · 6 years

Text

Mixed Match Challenge

Word Count: 2663

Warning: None. Safe Zone

PS: Listen to the song “I Own You” by Shinedown while reading this

It was official, your partner for the Mixed Match Challenge had been injured during a fight on Raw. Dean Ambrose was supposed to be your partner but due to his injury, he was not going to be able to fight. Stephanie explained to you that because he was injured and was not going to return anytime soon, the fans would be the ones to pick your new partner for the match.

“Y/R/N, I know how hard it is for you to hear that your partner for the Mixed Match Challenge, Dean Ambrose is out due to what happened last Monday here in Monday Night Raw. The WWE universe knows that you are siblings but also best friends. How do you feel about all of this?”

You were currently being interview by your sister in law, Renee Young. You always love when she interview you not only because she is family, but also because she makes you feel relax and comfortable.

You looked at her with worried eyes and proceed to answer her question.

“Is hard to be here every day knowing that your brother and best friend is out due to someone who could not keep his anger issues under control. Not only I feel mad but also worry for the sake of my favorite lunatic.”

While letting her know how you felt, Renee looked uncomfortable with something or rather someone behind you. She took a step back and before she tried to warn you, you felt a massive pain coming from your back. Trying to see what had happened you tried to turn around but once again felt another wave of pain coming from the same spot as before.

“Anger ISSUES?! Who do you think you are? You better watch your pretty little mouth if you do not want to end up like your coward brother.”

You knew that voice too well. The “famous” Samoa Joe was the cause of your massive pain. While replying to Renee question, you did not realize that he was listening behind your back. The impact was unexpected for you and everyone who was watching.

Tuning around you tried to stand up from the floor but failed miserably.Samoa saw what you were trying to do and took your left arm. With his other hand, he took your chin in a brutal way. You looked at him with so much hate and disgust.

“If only you had accepted my proposal. You wouldn't be in this situation right now. You see, a woman like you deserve to be treated like a queen. Not like some kind of puppet that does her brother dirty work. Is such a shame that I had to do that.” He stopped for a minute to see your reaction and to also look at the camera.

“But don’t worry my flower, you will be mine. Someday.”

After that, he gave you a kiss on your forehead. He stood up and looked at Renee with a sinister face. You tried to maintain calm but the previous event was something that you had never experience before. You could hear the paramedics running towards you in order to check if you have any injuries.

Renee was trying to get your attention by taking your hands in hers.

“Y/N!! Are you ok? Can you get up by yourself or do you want me to help you? Please answer me!! You are making me scared. Please doll, say something.”

You could hear the desperation in her voice. Letting go of her hands, you tried to get up but failed to do so. You were still in a shook from the previous scene. Is not that you were scared or anything, but you were worried about what he might due when Dean returns. You would kill him if he lays another finger to your brother.

Raising your head, you did not notice the number of people that was surrounded the two of you. The paramedics were all around you. One of them took your head in his hands and started to check for any head injuries. Another one was taking your vitals, and the other two were observing you in order for them to make sure there weren't any more inconveniences.

“Miss Ambrose, tell me if these hurt.” One of the doctors was putting a little bit of pressure in the back of your head. He looked at you with worry eyes but not before looking directly at your eyes. He was one of the newest doctors to arrive at Raw a couple of months ago. At the beginning, you guys started to flirt and later on started to date. But that came to an end due to you finding out he was seeing another diva behind your back.

“Auch, get away from me Steven. Instead of making me feel better you are hurting me more.” He looked at you with a concerned face. He ignored you and started to call his assistants in a rush way.

“ Josh, I need you to call Stephanie and Hunter as soon as possible. Tell them that she would not be able to fight against Sasha Banks tonight. We need to take her to the closest hospital in order for us to make sure she doesn't have a concussion.”

With that said, his assistant stood up from the floor and followed Steven’s commands.

“What? You are telling me that I won’t be able to compete tonight? I’m fine Doctor, is just a massive headache nothing that a couple of painkillers can cure.”

There was no way that you were going to miss your match against Sasha, you had been having a storyline with her since last month. Tonight, you were going to have a TLC match and you were supposed to win. You needed to be there, not for you, but for your amazing fans.

“Y/N, I know tonight is important, but we need to make sure you are ok. Please, Y/N/N, let me help you.” He said

“First of all, do not call me that, second, I’m perfectly fine.” You looked at him with an annoying face. You decided that it was time to get up and find your way to Kurt Angle office since before the show started, one of the cameras mans told you that “ Kurt needs to see you after you segment with Renee. He said it is something about the Mixed Match Challenge.”

“Where are you going? Y/N, we haven’t finished talking.” Complained Steven while standing up.

You did not pay attention to his words and keep walking. After a couple of minutes, you realize that he was no longer following you. For some reason, you felt a little bit nervous to see Kurt. You knew he wasn't going to tell you a bad new, but you have the feeling that what he might tell you was going to be important.

Opening the door, you were welcome with a very strong cologne. Yep, Kurt was in his office.

“Hey! Y/R/N, how are you feeling? Weren’t you supposed to be at the hospital?” Asked a very worry Kurt

Looking at him with a bore expression you ignore his questions and proceed to ask the following

“Why did you want to see me? Jeremy told me that you wanted to talk about the Mixed Match Challenge. What is it?”

With a more serious face, he motions you to sit down on the couch that was located in the middle of the room. Taking a seat you waited for him to do the same.

“Look, I know how bad you wanted to have Dean as your partner. But since he is no longer here, we had asked the fans who they want your partner to be for the match.”

Taking a deep breath you started to become nervous. Not having any idea of whom might be your new partner worried you the hell up.

“And...well, they had already picked your new partner. In fact, he is going to be here any minute.”

You opened your eyes in a shook. Who would it be? Seth? Or maybe Jason Jordan? There were so many possibilities and so little time.

A set of knocking took you by surprise. Kurt shouted a “ Come on in.” and without wasting any more time, your new partner enters the room.

You could not believe who your new partner was. Those long legs, massive arms, and that long and black hair. He gave you a big smile followed by a big hug.

“Oh baby girl, can’t believe we are going to be partners.”

“Roman, I’m glad too.”

Kurt looked at you two with a proud gaze. He knew you would like your new partner. Since the beginning, you and Roman had been really good friends. Everyone knew not to mess with either one of you. If they tried, they would have to deal with the other. Your brother always tells you that his fellow Shield-brother has a thing for you, but you never believe him. Why would someone as handsome and funny as him have a thing for you? Psst, he won’t.

“Well, I’m happy you guys agree with the result. Get ready to fight against Finn Bálor and Sasha Banks next Tuesday. Good luck to you too.” And with that said, you two went to his locker room to discuss your strategies for the match.

Time Skips

It was the night of the mixed match. You were standing next to Roman waiting for your cue to make your entrance. He took your hand in his and started to touch your curly hair.

“Baby girl, don't worry too much. We would win.” You gave him a small smile and before you have the chance to respond, someone told you that it was time.

Hearing your music start, you walked through the curtain and face the crowd.

Come on in, take a seat.

Tell me how you feel this weak.

Are you cursed? Are you blessed?

Are you still inside the mess?

All those feelings wrapped around you,

Hold you down so you can't break through.

Its a trap, so don't ask. Its a shadow on

Your back. It doesn't burn, it doesn't bleed,

Still, it cuts you at the knee.

All this pressure that surrounds you,

Holds you down but you know you

Gotta break through.

“ I do not about you guys, but I can’t wait to see who Y/R/N partner is.” You could hear Booker T said to the other two commentators

“ Me neither Booker, but from the face of Y/R/N, is someone special. Can’t wait.” Replied Corey

You looked at the crowd with a playful face. Your music stopped playing and you put your index finger to your lips in order for the crowd to be quiet.

“The Truth Reigns” started to play all over the arena. You could see the crowd going insane, some of them were booing, but most of them were going crazy.

Roman did his usual routine but instead of going straight to the ring, he looked at you and took your hand in his tattoo one. You gave him a kiss on his right cheek and the both of you make your way to the ring.

You glared at Finn and Sasha as you made your way to the ring. Sasha gave you a dirty look and decided to take a step toward you. Before you could take a step toward her, you felt two big arms squeezing your waist lightly.

“Wait till the match starts. Don’t let her get to you.” Whispered Roman in your left ear.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded and waited for the referee signal.

“The following match is a Mixed Match Challenge. From Boston, Massachuset. Sasha Banks.” You could see how the entire arena shouted her name. It was obvious, she was one of the most popular in the women's division.

Smirking at you, she went back to her corner and waited for Jojo to announce her partner.

“Her partner, from Bray, Ireland. Finn Bálor.” The crowd was going crazy. He did his usual routine and looked at Roman with a stern face.

You rest your hand on Roman shoulder while giving him another kiss on his cheek. With that action, the crowd started to make kissing noises. Roman started to laugh at their reaction but soon after that, he went back to his serious face.

“Their opponents, from Y/H/T, Y/R/N!!” The whole arena was screaming and shouting your name louder than when they were cheering for Sasha. You were the most love from all the divas. You have a connection with the fans that only you and your fans understood. The crowd started to shout “We love you Y/R/N” and “You will win”

Jojo smiled at you but then proceed to announce Roman. “From Pensacola, Florida. He is her tag team partner, Roman Reigns!!” Some of the crowd started to boo him but others started to cheer for him. You, of course, gave him a side hug to cheer him up. You hated when they boo him. It makes you mad. You knew he was an amazing athlete and friend. He deserves better.

With that said, both men when to fight each other. Finn tried to hit Roman but he was faster and double kick him in the abdomen. You cheer for him from your corner.

For the majority of the match, Roman was taking the upper hand. He was about to do his famous Superman punch but out of nowhere Sasha enters the ring and slapped him. Without thinking you enter the ring and spare her.

“Nobody slaps my man. You hear me ?” you shouted in her face. Taking her by her hair, you took her by surprise and did her own finisher. The Boss Statement.

“Oh, Sasha Banks is about to tap out with her own finisher,” shouted Corvey

You could feel how she was debating to tap or not. “Tap!!! Damn it, tap !!” you scream at her as loud as you could. Not after that, she did not have any other way than give up. The referee separates you from her and raises your hand.

“And the winners of this match are Y/R/N and Roman Reigns!” Jojo announce your victory with a big smile on her face.

Roman took your other hand and gave you a proud smile. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see how Renee step into the ring and gave you a hug.

“Y/R/N, Roman, how do you guys feel? I mean, being together for the first time as partners and being the winners of this huge match.” Asked amused Renee

Roman smile at her while placing his arm on your shoulder. “ Well Renee, Y/R/N is an amazing wrestler. I do not have expected less from her. I knew from the moment Kurl told me that I was going to be her partner, that we were going to win.”

“Y/R/N, what do you have to say ?” Asked Young with a smirk

You looked at Roman and answer him “ It was an honor, you are amazing in any aspect. Plus you are handsome as hell.” You confessed.

The crowd started to scream at your response. You had never seen Roman blush so hard in your life.

“Well, I think you are beautiful as well.” Replied him

Without thinking, you took his face between your small and delicate hands. You looked at him and did not hesitate to give him a passionate kiss on his lips. At the beginning he was shocked but after a couple of seconds, he followed your led.

“And there you have it. The winners of this Mixed Match Challenge.”

—————————————————————

Y/R/N( Your Ring Name)

Y/N/N( Your Nick Name)

Y/H/T( Your Home Town)

—————————————————————-

I had this idea for so long. Let me know if you guys liked it.

*This story is mine, I don’t give permission to post it on another social media. I spend a lot of time into it.

~Joy🌸

#roman reigns x reader #roman reigns #roman reigns imagine #wwe x reader #Joe Anoa'i #dean ambrose #dean ambrose x reader #mixed match challenge #sasha banks imagine #finn balor #renee young #raw #seth rollins x reader #seth rollins imagine #dean ambrose imagine #samoa joe imagine

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uas-art · 6 years

Text

Title: A Visit Summary: Mysterion drops in to pay Leopold Stotch a visit. Rating: G Ships: N/A Other: Contains implied/mentioned child abuse. Set in a superhero AU

You can also read this one a03

~~~~~~

He would have rather slipped through the window and snuck up on him. It would have been like old times. Leo probably would have gotten a laugh out of it. Unfortunately, Doctor Timothy had insisted Mysterion enter the mansion properly through the front door as a show of trust.

The butler did not seemed all that surprised at the caped vigilante standing in the doorway. Mysterion didn't even need to flash his Freedom Pal's badge for the man to step aside and usher him in.

"The Master is in his study. Would you like me to lead you there, or would you prefer to sulk through the shadows there yourself?" The butler asked in a less than joking tone. Mysterion didn't answer, instead purposefully walking past into a ray of sunlight cast by a near by window.

The butler must have been one of Leo's old hires. Mysterion wouldn't have been too surprised if the butler hadn't been on the receiving end of one of his attacks back in the day. Most of Leo's personal staff use to members of the Chaos organisation that Leo quickly rebranded and name changed to keep them out of jail.

The butler shut the door and wandered off, leaving Mysterion to his own devices.

In the past, when Mysterion snuck into the mansion, he had to keep close to the walls and duck in and out of doorways to avoid being detected. He would use his unworldly powers to slip from shadow to shadow and distract servants and guards. Now, however, he marched up the large set of stairs and down the hall as if he were a member of the household.

Finally, Mysterion came to a large door. He reached up and rapped his knuckles against the hard wood three times in set rhythm, two quick knocks, a pause, then the final knock.

The over-excited sound of footsteps hurried to the door before it swung inwards.

Leopold Stotch looked at Mysterion with a wide, almost goofy-looking, grin. Green and red paint smeared across his cheek and a streak of navy blue across his forehead with a whole rainbow of oil paint on his artist's smock. His eyes even seemed to sparkle with joy at seeing the hero.

It was hard to imagine this baby-faced man was ever one of the most feared and wanted men in all the United States less than two years ago.

Leo jumped back. "Mysterion, come in, come in! It's so good to see you, buddy! Do you want some tea? One of my staff just brought some, and it's got extra honey and lemon."

"No, but thank you," Mysterion shook his head as he entered the study. He glanced around. It had been a year and a half now since he, Tupperwear, and Toolshed had come in and removed all the machines and weapons and monitors. Now the walls were lined with stacks of canvas and shelves with jars of paint brushes, chalks, crayons, and all other assortments of art supplies. A single TV was affixed to a wall in the corner with the weather channel playing.

Leo grabbed hold of Mysterion's arm. The hero let himself be tugged along towards an easel. The before mentioned tea sat steaming on a small table next to it.

"You have to see my latest painting." Leo took the canvas from the easel and held it in front of him. Pride beamed from his face. The piece in Leo's hand was a mess of colors and different textures, greens and blues and whites, and Mysterion couldn't for the life of him tell what it was suppose to be or if that was the point.

Mysterion frowned. He didn't grow up in a house hold that really appreciated the finer things, modern art being one of them. The closest thing he could recall print of Jesus in a fancy frame his mother had gotten from some free store or another.

"Its...nice." Mysterion commented. "I like that...green diamond pattern."

Leo laughed. "Ok, you just gotta see it with the others, silly!" He ran past Mysterion and began to pick out some other canvases. As he set them next to each other on the floor, a picture began to appear before Mysterion's very eyes: an emerald dragon nestled among the clouds over looking a castle and forest.

Mysterion whistled, impressed. "You painted all this?"

"Yup!" Leo grinned. "Took a while to figure out what parts to put where, but I did it!" He stepped closer to Mysterion. "I'm donating it to a children's hospital next week. Think the kids will like it? Or is the dragon too scary?"

"They'll love it," Mysterion replied softly.

The two stood in silence. Mysterion gazed at the paintings, trying to take in the smaller details Leo had hidden. So far he found a blue birds nest in the trees and a little family walking along a path towards the castle. As he gazed upon the blue-grey stone of the castle, Mysterion noticed a figure in the tower window. Careful not to disturb the paintings, he walked around to get a better look.

"Is that...?"

"Yup." Leo joined him and crouched. "It's Charlotte. I saw her on the news recently." He reached out and gently brushed his fingers over the woman in the window with a heavy sigh.

Charlotte had been his fiance, until he was finally arrested for his villainous crimes. At first, she had stayed with him, proclaiming Leo couldn't be Professor Chaos, that he was being framed, but soon the constant media attention and rumors finally drove her away. The last Mysterion had heard of her was from an interview she gave saying that she hoped Leo got the help he needed.

Leo fell back on his heels. "Hey, Mysterion, can I, um, ask you a question?"

"Of course," Mysterion replied.

Leo rested his head on his knees, not looking up at the hero. "Do...do you think it'll ever be enough? Will I finally stop feeling guilty for all I've done one day or is this," he paused to gesture to the paintings, "all for nothing?"

Mysterion pursed his lips before going down to his knees. He placed a hand on Leo's arm but didn't speak.

"Sometimes," Leo whispered, gripping his legs, "I wish they just had thrown me in jail. I wish my lawyers weren't as good. I hate them for that." He gritted his teeth. "I hated how they played up how badly my parents treated me and made me cry at the stand. I hated how they kept acting like the doctor who said I had dissociative identity disorder was right when I know he was a lair." Bitterness seeped into Leo's words. "I ain't got D.I.D.. Chaos isn't another personality of mine that I didn't know about. He is me. I am him. We both deserve to be punished for everything we did."

Mysterion reached out and pried Leo's hand off his leg before he hurt himself.

"I know, Leo." Mysterion said, slowly. "But maybe there is something to all that. Not that you have D.I.D., but that maybe you and Chaos aren't the exact same person." At this, Leo swung his head around and met Mysterion's eyes.

Mysterion took a breath and chose his words carefully. "The Professor Chaos I knew always owned up to being a villain. He never denied that what he was doing was against the law but, he always said he shouldn't be punished for it. Chaos said he was doing the world a favor. That it was the lack of chaos in our society that made us so lazy and sedentary." He squeezed Leo's wrist. "He didn't feel any guilt for what he did. But you, Leo, you do. That's how I know you two aren't the same. Professor Chaos is gone. He's dead, and he's not holding you back from your growth like he's done for years. Do you understand?"

Leo swallowed. A layer of moisture covered his eyes, and he had to blink from tearing up. After a moment, Leo blew his nose against his smock and turned back to the painting.

"You know, there is another person I know in this painting." Leo leaned forward and grabbed a canvas from the middle. He sat back on his bottom with the canvas propped up against his knees. It was part of the scene of the sky and clouds. He turned the painting towards Mysterion.

"Can you see him?"

Mysterion narrowed his eyes, scanning the painting. After a moment, he pointed. "There?" He asked. It looked like a person, a child, sleeping, their head resting against the dragon's foot. The child's hands rested over their stomach with a peaceful expression on their face.

Leo nodded. "Yeah, he's...an old friend of mine who passed away a long time ago." He pressed his fingers against the canvas. "He died at the hospital this is all going to. The doctors tried all they could to save him, but it couldn't be helped." Leo shook his head. "I hated seeing him waste away like he did."

Mysterion pursed his lips. After a heartbeat, he asked, "What's his name?"

Leo sighed. "His name was Kenny. We were only nine, and get he was diagnosed with muscular dystrophy."

Mysterion took in a sharp breath that caused Leo to look towards him with a concerned expression. He coughed into his hand. "Sorry, I...someone very close to me passed from that same thing. I know how hard it is."

Leo's expression soften, and he turned back to the painting. "I'm sorry I brought it up then."

"Don't be. People get sick, and people die, that's...that's just how the world works."

Unless they’re me, Mysterion added to himself. He pushed the thought and the guilt away. Until he finally joined Freedom Pals and started to live full time at the estate, he had been faking his death and relocating himself over and over. It had been the only way to keep everyone he cared about safe from his growing rogue gallery. His drawn out battle with muscular dystrophy had only been the first.

'Kenny' needed to die for 'Mysterion' to raise.

For split second, the truth pressed against Mysterion's teeth. He had to swallow to keep the words from escaping. Leo didn't need to know about their shared past. It would only hurt him more.

"Heya, Mysterion." Leo whispered, almost inaudibly, "Think they would let me take flowers to his grave? Or would that break my parol?"

Mysterion let out a shake breath he prayed Leo didn't notice. "I'll see if I can pull some strings and let you go, even if I have to escort you there myself."

Leo's eyes grew wide. He stared at Mysterion. He didn't try to blink the tears away this time.

"Thank you, Mysterion."

~~~~

AN: This was for a gen challenge from a facebook group but i misread the information and this doesn’t meet the criteria, so yeah its just a normal fic now. Also, the wiki mentioned Butters is really artistic, and I'm sad that doesn't get brought up much. :(

#south park #fanficiton #butters stotch #kenny mccormick #mysterion #sp #one shot #Michelle writes stuff

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power-bottom-barba · 7 years

Text

there’s a low moon caught in your tangles

Chapter eleven of my porn with plot Barisi fic 29 Songs! You can also read it on AO3 (and you should, that’s where the typos get fixed.)

Chapter Eleven Prompt: Lazy Morning Sex. S17, E3 - Transgender Bridge.

Saturday morning in Barba’s apartment was a surreal experience. Sonny had woken up at Barba’s more than a few times now, but it was always to the sound of Barba’s alarm, and more often than not followed by a hasty goodbye and rushing back to his apartment to get ready for work. Today was different; neither of them worked, so Sonny had woken up naturally with Barba still asleep beside him. He took his time, stealing the chance to observe Barba sleeping. He looked deceptively sweet, in the dim morning light that peeked through the curtains; his brow unfurrowed, lips parted. Sonny drank the sight in, wanting to remember it the next time the other man was rolling his eyes and mocking him in the harsher electric light of the precinct.

Eventually, he made his way out of bed, pushing carefully off the mattress to avoid disturbing the sleeper. He stepped into the briefs he’d discarded the night before and crept out of the bedroom, gently shutting the door behind him. He padded through the apartment, opening curtains and blinds to the sun, and admiring the beautiful view that Barba’s apartment offered. Sonny loved mornings; he was always up early and anxious to get a start on the day when the rest of the world was sleeping. It was like owning the world and having no one in his way, at least for a while. A glance at the clock told him it was nearly nine, a positively decadent hour to wake by comparison. He started a pot of coffee, retrieved his gym bag from where he had abandoned it near the front door, and dressed in a pair of jeans and t-shirt he’d rolled up and shoved in it.

Dressed and armed with a fresh cup of coffee, he wandered around the living room, taking leisurely sips from the steaming mug, and tracing his fingers over the spines of well-worn books on the shelves. There was Vonnegut, and Hemingway; Kerouac, Bradbury, and Heller. He lingered over a copy of Walter Brigg’s “The Fifth Assailant;” it had been a favorite of his in college. He wondered if Barba was a fan, or if he had picked up the book during the case. There were a few books of poetry as well, which surprised him. Walt Whitman, Allen Ginsberg, José Marti, Charles Bukowski. He smiled, imagining Barba sitting in his living room, reading poetry for pleasure. He wondered if he ever had the time, or if the books were well-loved keepsakes from college, fondly remembered but seldom touched. Either way, the worn spines and array of names said a great deal about the man who owned them, maybe more than he knew. You didn't need to see bookmarks to get a picture when you saw what a person kept on their shelves, the state of their books, the order they kept them in.

Sonny had no doubt the paperwork spread over what would have been a dining table got far more attention, though. Idly, he spun one of the multiple legal pads to face him and flipped through a few pages, each covered in notes. He couldn’t help his curiosity, not for the cases themselves, but the way Barba approached them, his process, the way his mind worked. He wondered if he could convince the other man to let him shadow him on a case. He’d brought it up before and been shot down, but he didn’t think a more serious request could hurt.

Finishing his coffee, he washed the mug, set gently it in the dish rack to dry. It was funny how knowing someone was sleeping could make you move carefully even when you didn't need to. He made his way to the bathroom. After relieving himself, running his hands under the tap and methodically drying them, he picked up his toothbrush. His toothbrush, given to him by Barba, and the only thing he left here. Sonny felt an absurd flutter every time he saw it sitting in the cup beside Barba’s. It was something tangible; a physical mark he left on the other man’s life.

He took a moment after splashing water on his face to confront his reflection. His hair stuck out in every direction, mussed from sleep and sex. As he brushed his teeth, he searched for a comb, idly opening drawers and automatically scanning the contents of the medicine cabinet. Medicine cabinets were even better than bookshelves if you wanted to know a person. Pomade and cologne, top shelf; band-aids, tweezers, cotton rounds and razors in the middle – and the comb he was seeking. The bottom shelf told its own story: Excedrin and aspirin, a few prescriptions; Sonny recognized Imitrex for migraines, and Atorvastatin had to be for high cholesterol. There was another, Truvada, that he didn’t recognize. Internally chastising himself for snooping, he took the comb and closed the cabinet, frowning at his reflection when it reappeared.

It wasn’t that he meant to pry, but he couldn’t help but be interested in the man’s life outside of work. For all their intimacy, the Barba was a mystery to him in many ways. He didn’t know about his family or his friends, his hobbies. Their conversations had allowed glimpses into the other man’s private life, but more often than not their topics were about cases and the law, work, and while Sonny might ramble on about his sisters or a book he’d read, Barba rarely opened up in the same way.

Eventually, he was able to get his hair wet enough that he could comb it into an acceptable shape. He was still smoothing it back with his hands as he exited the bathroom, startled when he saw Barba leaning against the doorframe of his kitchen, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts and holding a mug of coffee in two hands. His hair was sleep mussed, and there was a shadow on his cheeks. Sonny’s heart rate picked up just seeing him like this; who would have thought Barba could look even better than he did in a three piece suit.

“Hey,” Sonny said, with an apologetic smile. “I didn’t mean to wake you, sorry.”

Barba shook his head. “I smelled the coffee. Thank you.” Barba didn’t disguise the way he appraised Sonny from toe to tip, and Sonny felt his cheeks burn. “You showered. Have you been up long?”

“No, nah. I just got my hair wet and had a cup of coffee.” Feeling suddenly bold, Sonny casually crossed to where Barba was standing and dipped his head to kiss his jaw as he passed him into the kitchen, half expecting the other man to flinch back and stare at him as though he’d grown a second head. He was pleasantly surprised when Barba only made a pleased sort of humming noise and bumped his cheek against Sonny’s.

“You also got dressed,” Barba noted, turning to watch Sonny pouring himself a second cup of coffee. “Somewhere to be?”

“Just outta your hair.” He helped himself to the creamer that Barba had left sitting out on the counter.

“I’d rather have you back in my bed,” Barba quipped, so casually that Sonny nearly did a double take. Barba only smirked over the rim of his coffee cup, one eyebrow quirking upward.

“Sorry, are you flirting with me right now?” Sonny grinned.

“With observational skills like this, have you considered a career as a detective?” Barba was rolling his eyes, but he was also smiling. Sonny walked over to him and leaned his elbow on the wall.

“All this time and all I had to do to get you to be nice to me was make you coffee?”

“Something you might have noticed with those finely honed detective talents. Haven’t you ever noticed how well I treat Carmen?” Barba trailed a hand over Sonny’s side, fingers sliding up under the hem of his t-shirt to graze his side.

Sonny managed to suppress a shiver, but not his smile. “I think you might like me more than Carmen.”

Barba barked a laugh. “Did you ever read that wrong. She is indispensable; your ass looks good in jeans.” His fingertips dipped into the waistband of Sonny’s jeans in the back, and Sonny leaned a little closer, undeterred by Barba’s teasing.

“Real good. Out of ‘em, too.” Sonny waggled his eyebrows playfully. Barba shook his head, but for a moment Sonny still thought he was going to kiss him. Instead, he lifted his coffee cup to his lips and drained it, stepping away from Sonny and toward the counter. He splashed cream into the bottom of the empty cup and returned it to the refrigerator before pouring himself another cup of coffee. Sonny didn’t hide the disappointed noise he made, and Barba seemed to enjoy it.

“Plans for the day?” Barba sipped at the steaming coffee.

“Homework. Gotta use days off to catch up.” Sonny shrugged.

“Mm. You’re what, 3L?” If Sonny didn’t know better, he would think that Barba looked impressed when he nodded. “And a full time at SVU. How are you doing?”

“You gonna depose my on my grades, counselor?” He sighed. “Above median. Not as well as I’d like, which is why I gotta study.”

“That isn’t terrible.” Sonny didn’t think it was like Barba to be that charitable; he suspected his amorous mood might be coloring his statements. “I have tickets to the opera tonight. You should stay, go with me.”

"Opera?" Sonny thought he must have misheard him.

"Mozart." If Barba thought anything was out of the ordinary about his invitation, his casual manner didn't give it away.

They'd gone to dinner together a few times, but never had Barba asked him to do something that so clearly implied a date. He hesitated before answering, uncertain. “I’ve got a note to finish.”

“What case?” Barba looked more alert at once, openly curious.

“White v. Woodall.”

“Easy." Barba gestured dismissively with his coffee mug. "The Supreme Court ruled that the judge hadn’t acted unreasonably and upheld the sentence of death.”

“Well, actually," Sonny waggled his hand in a so-so gesture, "they said they didn’t have the authority to override the State’s ruling.”

“Yes, and therefore…” Barba led.

“OK, yeah, but they didn’t hold that he waived his right to self-recrimination due to his guilty plea." Sonny blinked, straightening up from where he leaned against the wall. "Wait a minute. You don’t seriously side with Scalia on it?”

“Breyer's dissent was particularly nuanced,” Barba admitted. “Though Scalia set a precedent that favors the prosecution.”

“That doesn’t mean it was right, though.” Sonny could hear himself speaking faster. The mirth in Barba's eyes made it clear that he was baiting him, but Sonny rose to it all the same.

“He brutally raped and murdered a sixteen-year-old girl," Barba argued dispassionately. "You don’t think he deserved a death sentence?”

“No, I don’t, and neither do you.”

“Don’t I? I am a prosecutor.” The corners of the other man's mouth were turned up into a smirk now as Sonny got more keyed up.

“Yeah, in New York, where we don’t have the death penalty. And besides," he pointed at Barba, "you said so!”

“When?” Barba hid a yawn behind the back of his hand.

“At Harvard, in your senior thesis.” Though he delivered them like a coup de gras, instantly Sonny wished he could retract the words.

Barba’s eyes widened, and his eyebrows crept toward his hairline. “Out of curiosity, did you track down my legal writings before or after we…?”

“Before,” Sonny said quickly, his cheeks burning. “I heard you were on the Law Review, and I…”

Barba smiled and shook his head. “Of course you did. I should have known.” Barba looked more flattered than anything, and Sonny exhaled in relief. The last thing he needed was to sound like a stalker. “Regardless, Woodall isn’t a death penalty decision. It’s court procedure, no adverse interference.”:

“And habeas, and self-incrimination, and the Antiterrorism and Effective Death Penalty Act. And it - it’s self-incrimination!” Sonny was waving his hands around so dramatically; he was lucky he hadn't sloshed coffee onto Barba's kitchen floor.

“Scalia wrote it was harmless error.”

“That doesn’t mean he was right.”

Barba studied him a moment before smirking. “No, it doesn’t. And I agree with you, though less on emotional grounds, and more because a guilty plea does not entirely waive a person’s fifth amendment rights.”

“The right to remain silent.” Sonny smiled. “That’s what Breyer said.”

“Almost as though I’ve read it.”

“Ha ha.” Sonny rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. If for no other reason than the pleasure of watching Rafael Barba flaunt his legal knowledge like he was in front of a judge, but with bed head and wearing only a pair of rose colored boxer shorts.

“Stay,” Barba said again. “I can help you with it and try to teach you something. After we’ll go out for dinner and Bastien und Bastienne.”

Sonny didn't know if he was more excited by the prospect of a real date out with Barba, or the opportunity to hear his insights and analysis of a Supreme Court decision; to collaborate with him on a case note. He could hear his sister's voice echoing in his mind, telling him that either way, he was a nerd.

"That's a tempting offer. You sure this isn't all just a ploy to get me back into bed?" Sonny smiled.

"Would a ploy be required?"

"Nah." Sonny paused. “So, you just happen to have a spare opera ticket? Did you plan this, is this a surprise date?”

Barba chuckled, setting his empty coffee cup in the sink. “No, the person who was supposed to use the ticket couldn’t make it.”

“Wait, you were gonna go out with someone else?” Sonny set his cup beside Barba’s.

Rafael just raised an eyebrow. “My mother.”

Sonny felt an absurd flush of relief that he was sure showed on his face. He was embarrassed, but at the same time conflicted. It had been six months, was it so wrong to want to know if Barba was sleeping with other people? He opened his mouth to say so, but at the last moment decided against it. Barba had just gone so far as to ignore Sonny’s past hero-worship fueled stalking and asked him out to dinner. It wasn’t the time to press his luck.

"It's sweet that you take your ma' to the opera, Rafael," he said, smiling. It might have been the time to press his luck a little.

"Not particularly in the mood to talk about my mother." Barba was appraising him openly again.

"Oh yeah?" Sonny grinned, folding his arms across his chest. "What are you in the mood for, then?"

"You, naked, back in my bed. Have I been unclear?"

“No,” Sonny replied, still smiling, and pulled his t-shirt off over his head. “Perfectly clear, counselor.”

Barba walked past Sonny out of the kitchen, dragging a hand along his now-exposed side, scratching short nails where his jeans hung low on his hipbones. The touch was casual; Barba didn’t even look at him as he did it, but Sonny still broke out in goosebumps.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Barba said, stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door. He didn’t wait or watch to see if Sonny would head into the bedroom. Not that there was ever really a question.

He went back to Barba’s bedroom at once, popping the button on his jeans as he walked. He took the time to open the curtains, flooding the room in natural light dappled with the shadows cast by the trees that lined the street. He kicked off his jeans and briefs to the same corner that held his discarded suit from the night before. He was half-hard already from anticipation. Sonny knew enough to know that Barba didn’t like mornings; he was usually irritated and scowling at his alarm until after he’d had a shower and a few cups of coffee in him. He’d have never have expected him to be up for it first thing in the morning; not that he was complaining. Sonny was a morning person, which included a taste for morning sex. Every girl he’d ever dated had been woken up occasionally by his amorous, hopeful nuzzling. Not that he’d ever had the courage to try it with Barba.

Sonny had just sat down on the bed when Barba came in, not bothering to shut the bedroom door behind him. It was evident at once that he'd made a token effort to tame his bedhead while he was in the bathroom, though Sonny didn't see the need. He loved to see Barba looking mussed and undone. He was always so put together; it gave him a thrill to see him out of his armor. Right now, he'd be happy just to get him out of his boxers.

"You look so good," Sonny said. Barba rolled his eyes, but Sonny thought he looked pleased all the same and pressed on. "Oh, come on, like you don't know you're real attractive."

"I know you're turned on," Barba dismissed the compliment as he approached. He reached out and grazed Sonny's cheek lightly with his knuckles before using one to lift his chin. He leaned in and brushed his lips over Sonny's, softly at first, then with a bit more pressure. "You look good, too."

Sonny shivered at Barba’s compliment, his kiss. By now he had gotten used to how Barba worked. The cutting edge and acidic wit softened when they were in bed together, even more so when he wanted to get there. Not that he’d ever doubted that Barba was capable of sweet talk, but he did like being on the receiving end of it. His legs spread to make room for the other man between them as he slid his hands up along Barba's sides, guiding him nearer and reveling in the feel of him, all at once soft and solid.

He tilted his chin up as Barba leaned closer, opening his mouth to the older man's kisses, the cool peppermint taste of him, his clever tongue, his warm lips. It was different from how Barba usually kissed him, deeply and with a rapidly building intensity that made his head swim and stole his breath away. Instead, he drew the kisses from his mouth slowly, the tip of his tongue flicking out to tease him, the drag and press of his kiss maddeningly slow. When Sonny swayed forward to capture the smart mouth that so often captivated him, Barba drew back almost imperceptibly; just enough to prevent Sonny from claiming his prize. He could feel Barba smirking more than he could see it as Barba kissed him again, as maddening and soft and languid as before.

The tantalizing slowness and teasing made Sonny's head swim. He was hard, and the way Barba's thigh brushed against him made him groan into the other man's mouth. He gripped his hips and pulled Barba down into the bed, rolled him onto his back, and kissed him soundly; licked into his mouth and drew out moans. And yet for all his urgency, he pushed no further. They were always so busy, so tired, so horny that they never took their time. Sonny was only too happy to take it now; as long as desire would let him, anyway.

Barba must have been of the same mind because they moved slowly together, a tangle of arms and legs, the friction of their bodies together incidental instead of chased with the thrusting of hips, the press of thighs. Everything was their lips and tongues and teeth, their hands on each other's backs, shoulders, and faces. Sonny relished in the scrape of their cheeks together, the shadow of their morning beards, and wondered fleetingly when such a thing had become so erotic to him.

He would have been happy to spend hours just kissing Barba, instead of long, boundless minutes, but he wasn't going to object when Barba's hand gripped his shoulders and pushed him, moved with him, rolling him onto his back. Sonny smiled up at Barba as the other man sat up on his knees, pushing his boxers over his hips. Sonny licked his swollen lips at the sight of Barba's thick cock as he revealed it.

Barba must have noticed because he was smirking, kiss-bruised lips pressed together in a self-satisfied smiled. That kind of smugness from Barba made Sonny want to grip his hips and fuck him into the mattress, which was ideal in this situation, though slightly more of a distraction when the ADA was strutting around the courtroom.

Sonny was about to push himself up into a sitting position to seize that smirking mouth once more, but Barba surprised him by swinging a leg over him and straddling high on his thighs. Sonny drank in the sight of him, beautiful in the dappled morning light, soft and naked and sumptuously formed. He wanted to touch him, to drag his hands along his body and take in the shape of him, to spit in his hand and palm their dicks together, to feel the slide of Barba's thick cock against his own. He wanted to grip his firm thighs and sink into his round, luscious ass. More than anything, he wanted to spend several sunlit days pressed against him, kissing him.

"You're beautiful," Sonny said, honestly, absent the confidence to put the rest of his desires into words. He cupped Barba's ass as the other man settled into his lap and rocked his hips forward, teasing Sonny with friction.

"I want you," Barba replied. He cupped Sonny's face and dragged his thumb across his full lips. Sonny caught it in his mouth, sucked the digit in between his lips and rolled his tongue around it. His eyes fluttered closed as Barba moaned. Soon it was Barba's slender index and middle fingers deep in his mouth, and he opened his eyes again, looking straight at Barba as he moaned low around his fingers and hollowed his cheeks.

Barba groaned and pulled his hand free. He leaned down to kiss Sonny again, and at the same time reached down between them and took hold of them both with his spit-slick hand. Between Barba's touch and the searing pleasure of his kiss, Sonny felt like he was dissolving with desire. His hold on them was light, the speed of his stroke languid, a far cry from Barba's usual direct and expeditious manner. The lazy tugs were the perfect compliment to their drawn-out kisses, the rare unhurried feel of the morning.

The slide of Barba's cock against his set off sparks under his skin. His breath against the other man's mouth was shuddering, broken by huffs and soft gasps. He gripped the older man's thick thighs, intoxicated by the press and weight of his body on top of him. Sonny let himself get lost in Barba, in his touch, reacting to him and letting him lead.

It stretched on such that Sonny thought Barba intended to be just like this, to lie together kissing while he teased them both to climax. However, every time Sonny felt the tension starting to build in him, every time his breathing sped up, and he canted his hips toward his lover's hand, Barba's hand would still, and he pressed slow kisses to Sonny's mouth until the fire had ebbed. And then he would begin again.

"I want you, Sonny," Barba said again, just when Sonny didn't think he'd be able to wait any longer and had been about to begin begging Barba to make him come. He whined when Barba let go of him and broke their kiss to lean away, reaching for his bedside table and managing to retrieve a strip of condoms and a bottle of slick from the second drawer.

"Fuck." Sonny's dick twitched and heat pooled in his stomach at the sight of the supplies and the thought of what they promised. "You're not too sore?" He did his best to keep the hopeful note from his voice. He'd fucked Barba long and hard the night before, pinning his shoulders to the mattress and thrusting roughly into him while the other man gasped for more. He didn't want to hurt him by going again too soon.

"I'm all right, just lie back." Barba's voice was the sort of sweet that he only used in bed, stripped of all his sarcasm and snark.

Sonny did as he asked. Barba did the work of putting a condom on him and slicking him with lube, something Sonny always did for himself. When Barba poured slick onto his fingers and reached back, arching his body as he prepared himself, Sonny groaned. Seeing Barba touching himself, the pretty curve of his body as he made himself ready was almost too much. He had to touch him, stroking his hands along his chest, blunt nails scratching at his sides, fingertips gently pulling at his nipples. Barba's lashes fluttered.

Nothing had prepared Sonny for the feeling of Barba sinking onto his cock, the hot clench of his body ever so slowly taking him in. His brow furrowed and his mouth slack, Barba bowed his body forward over Sonny, close enough that he could feel the other man's breath on his lips. It was bliss, pure bliss, and that was before Barba began to move.

The roll of Barba's hips was sensuous, slow, and so fucking hot that Sonny could barely stand it. The slow slide and drag of their bodies, the kisses he arched up to steal. It was so different from what they usually did, so intimate and tender and careful, that Sonny felt he would go to pieces.

Barba liked to be well and truly fucked, to be ridden rough and pushed to the edge of sensation, and Sonny had well learned the pleasure of that kind of play. But this is what he loved best, this gentleness, feeling every shift and tremor of his partner, to breathe their breath and drink kisses from their mouth.

"Rafael," he moaned, and then again. "Raf, fuck, yeah, that's so good. You feel so good, babe." His fingers carded through Barba's hair, tugging him down just enough to kiss him soundly, to swallow the soft sounds of pleasure that the older man was making as he rocked their bodies together. He reached down between them, wanting to feel Barba in his hand, to stroke and tease and touch him; to please him.

Barba stopped him, catching his hand and squeezing it. "Not yet," he said, and the breathiness in his voice made Sonny groan. He canted his hips up to meet the undulation of Barba's body, and the angle must have been good because Barba shuddered against him and gasped, the sound half choked. Sonny did everything he could to repeat the motion, and Barba swayed forward and pressed his face into Sonny's shoulder.

"Sonny," he breathed, his name catching in Barba's throat. "That's right, Sonny. Like that, slow like that. Right there, amorcito, right there." Barba was mouthing wetly at his neck, and Sonny turned his head, nuzzling at him, needing to kiss him again. The sound of his name on Barba's lips was too much, and if Barba kept saying it, Sonny was going to come. And he didn't want it to end.

He lost himself in Barba's body, the feel and the scent and the taste of him. Giving himself over to pleasing his lover, he rocked his hips up, again and again, to meet him and reveled in the sweet, breathy soprano sounds that Barba couldn't help making when Sonny was hitting his prostate.

It couldn't last forever. The heat built and the need became too great. Barba tangled his finger's with Sonny's and dragged their hands between their bodies.

"Touch me," he whispered, wrapping both their hands around his thick, neglected prick. The slide of their hands was slick and smooth, wet from the steady flow of pre-come that dripped from Barba's cock onto Sonny's belly.

"I got you, Raf, I got you." He took over, pumping his fist in time with the gentle upward thrusts of his hips. Barba's hand fell away, returning to grip Sonny's shoulder as he gasped and moaned.

"Fuck, yes, that's good, Sonny..."

"Yeah?" Sonny asked, needlessly. The way Barba's hips stuttered and his breath hitched told him everything he needed to know. He could feel himself growing close, the other man's pleasure fueling his own. He needed Barba to come first and breathed deeply to keep himself from coming.

"Come on, Rafael. That's good, yeah?" His stroke picked up speed as his urgency grew, twisting his wrist to swipe his thumb over the blunt head of Barba's dick. The sweet whines and whimpers coming from Barba's throat told him it was working. "Yeah, that's right. Come on babe, give it to me, I wanna make you come, please..."

He was babbling, his accent thick and his speech slurred, but it didn't matter. Barba gasped hoarsely and shook against him, spilling through Sonny's fingers and painting his stomach with streaks of come. The way he clenched and bore down around Sonny made light dance behind his eyes, and he groaned loud and low. The hand that wasn't still loosely jerking Barba's prick gripped his hip and held him fast as Sonny gave himself over to a few last deep strokes, and spent himself inside the other man.

The world had shrunk to just the two of them and exploded into pleasure. Sonny could do nothing but press his face to Barba's neck and breathe ragged breaths as he waited to come down, for reality to crash back in.

It was Barba who finally broke the spell between them, shifting backward and rolling onto his side. Sonny couldn't help the murmur of protest that escaped his lips as his slowly softening cock slipped out of Barba's ass. Barba rolled onto his side and kissed lazily at Sonny's jaw before pushing up onto his elbow long enough to do the work of stripping the condom off Sonny and discarding it. This was a task usually left to Sonny, and he felt strangely pampered to have it done for him while he lied back against soft pillows and basked in the afterglow.

Once Barba was stretched out close beside him again, Sonny turned toward him and curled an arm loose across his stomach. He settled in with his cheek on Barba's shoulder.

"That was fucking awesome," he drawled. "Really, just an awesome way to start the day." Barba didn't respond with words, just a hummed agreement, and a squeeze as he covered Sonny's arm with his own.

Sonny closed his eyes and let himself drift. He was slow and sleepy from his orgasm, but the two cups of coffee had synapses firing in his brain. He focused on Barba's chest under his hand, feeling its rise and fall as his breathing slowed to normal. Minutes passed, and Barba was still content to lie beside him, long fingers tracing and gentle back and forth along the line of Sonny's forearm.

"Hey, Rafael." Sonny opened his eyes, turning his head just enough to observe the other man, whose eyes did not open, though he raised his eyebrows with curiosity.

"Yes?" Rafael's voice was content but alert, confirming to Sonny that he hadn't been dozing.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Clearly." The hint of playful sarcasm in Barba's answer made the corners of Sonny's mouth turn up in a smile.

"Yeah yeah, ha ha." He turned slightly to observe the other man's face better. “When did you know you were gay?”

“I’m sorry?” Barba's eyes were open now, and he turned his head to look at Sonny in surprise.

“What, too personal?" At once Sonny felt a brief pang of anxiety that he oughtn't have asked, but he covered himself with casual humor. "I mean, we’re naked in your bed on a Saturday morning, I figure if you’re ever going to talk to me…”

The other man eyed him a bit suspiciously. “Heavy topic while I’m still catching my breath.”

“Sorry, forget it.” Sonny wasn't surprised by Barba's deflection. The man was a mystery to him, and as much as he wanted to talk to him, to pick apart all the locks inside him with words, he didn't want to press his luck, either.

Barba rolled his eyes, but as far as his sarcastic looks went, it was a mild one. “No, it’s fine. I can't pinpoint an exact date for you. Early, I suppose.”

“Did you come out early?” Sonny pushed himself up on his elbow. He thought about Avery Parker and her choice to come out as transgender in high school and all that it had cost her. Barba would have been in high school in the mid-eighties. He wondered what it had cost him.

“No."

Sonny continued to look at him patiently, waiting for more, Barba eventually offered more than his one-word answer.

"I didn’t act on it until I was at Harvard," the older man said, shifting into a position similar to Sonny's, propped up on his elbow with his cheek resting against his fist. "I dated girls in high school, some at college as well.”

“To hide it?”

“No, not like that, no. I was attracted to them. Loved some of them, as much as anyone loves anyone when they're a teenager.” Barba smiled wistfully, as though remembering something with extreme fondness.

“Wait, so, what? You liked women then?”

Barba looked annoyed, the far away look of memory in his eyes chased away. “I still like women.”

Sonny couldn’t conceal his shock. “Wait, what? You said you were gay!”

“Did I?” Barba raised one eyebrow.

“Yes! I mean… I thought you did.” Sonny tried to recall the exact details of their conversation all those months ago, during Tommy's trial.

Barba let him stew in his confusion a moment longer before elaborating. “I prefer men. It doesn’t rule out women.”

“So, you’re bisexual?”

“If you like.” Barba shrugged. “Like I said. I prefer men. It’s been a long since I was with a woman, but that doesn't mean I don't still find them attractive, or that my past relationships with them were decietful in any way. It can be less complicated to round myself up to gay. People love to put others in boxes. Life is rarely that neat. Take yourself for example.” He looked at Sonny pointedly. “As you said, we’re naked in my bed on a Saturday morning, but I assume you would not only describe yourself to others as straight but think of yourself that way as well.”

Sonny couldn’t deny it. “Yeah… yeah, I do.”

“But you’re attracted to me." Barba raised one eyebrow pointedly; Sonny thought this must be what it felt like to be cross-examined by him. You’re not harboring any delusions regarding my gender; I wouldn’t put up with you thinking of me as a woman. So here you are, a straight man, and you fuck me, want to hold me afterward, and spend the night.”

Sonny’s face burned, embarrassed by Barba’s explicit description. “Yeah, I see what you mean. I guess it’s complicated for everyone. I hadn’t considered it. I just assumed you were gay.”

“‘I am large, I contain multitudes.’” Barba quoted.

“Walt Whitman.” Barba looked pleased that Sonny had recognized the quote. Sonny couldn’t keep himself from smiling. “Whitman was gay.”

“Or bisexual, at least. Though he was never publicly ‘out.’ I suspect things were quite complicated for him, too.”

“So was it hard to be in the closet in high school, though, when you were younger? Did you think you’d ever act on your feelings for men? Did any of your friends or family know? Or did you not even really admit it to yourself?” Sonny knew he was piling up one question on top of the next, but now that there was a chance that Barba would talk about himself, Sonny found himself too eager to resist.

“I wasn’t in any denial about it. It was the mid-eighties, and I lived in a project in the South Bronx. I was already a short, skinny kid." Barba stretched back out against his pillow. Sonny could picture him, slender and lovely and young. "I wasn’t looking to make myself a target, and frankly, gay men in the city were dying. Regardless of what I felt, I didn’t think I’d ever act on it.”

"You grew up in the projects? Seriously?" That was a harder image to reconcile than anything else. Polished, Harvard graduate, Upper West Side Rafael Barba coming out of what had been one of the most crime-ridden, impoverished neighborhoods in the country at the time.

"Mmhmm," Barba said, a hint of a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. "At the Highbridge Rehabs, the corner of 166th and Anderson, just a block off Jerome Avenue."

"That's crazy, I had no idea," Sonny said, thinking about his suburban upbringing on Staten Island; a house with a yard, a bunch of sisters, always a family dog. He had a million questions at once; had Barba ever had a dog? Did he have brothers or sisters? How did he get from Highbridge to Harvard? He put a pin in those for later, and instead pressed on with his original line of questioning. “So, you thought you'd never act on it. What happened that changed your mind?”

“Time passed. I was out of the city. I met someone.” He shrugged. “What about you, Sonny? When were you first attracted to men?”

“You,” Sonny said honestly, smiling.

“Really? Never before?” Barba arched one eyebrow.

“Not really.” Sonny shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know, maybe a couple of times when I was a teenager I’d get hard wrestling around with a buddy, but… You know, when you’re that age, pretty much anything will do it. Any feelings were fleeting; I didn’t think anything of them. I knew I liked girls. Like, I really liked them, you know? I still do.”

“No one is forcing you to be here if there’s a woman you’d prefer.” Barba rolled his eyes but didn't shift to move away from where Sonny's body still pressed against his.

“Hey, no, that’s not what I meant…” Sonny began, but Barba cut him off.

“I don’t need reassurance, detective, I’m not insecure.”

"Yeah. Yes, I know that." Sonny observed Barba, who had closed his eyes again, for several quiet moments. The man could make him feel like he was talking in circles, spiking anxiety in him where he usually felt only confidence.

“So, when did you come out?” he asked, finally, reaching out to push back an errant strand of Barba's hair that stood out at an odd angle.

“To whom?”

“Anyone," Sonny shrugged.

“College," Barba said simply, apparently not willing to go into specifics unprompted. He opened his eyes again to look at Sonny. "It isn’t a one-time thing, coming out. It’s something you do for the rest of your life. I consider myself out. My orientation isn’t a secret, but I don’t advertise it, so there will always be people I meet who don’t know and will be told or find out, and then I’m coming out again. Like to you, right now, in a way. Is there someone you want to tell?”

“No," Sonny answered at once, and then took the time to consider it. "I mean, I don’t know. I've thought maybe about saying something to Bella, but... No. I wouldn’t even know what to tell her. I don’t know what this is. I mean, I know what this is," he gestured between himself and Barba, though that wasn't entirely true. His relationship with the other man confused him, but that was something to be unpacked another time. "I mean, what it means about me, I guess.”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything.” Barba was observing him openly now, his face all at once gentle and entirely inscrutable.

“I know. But it does to me, I think. I mean… Like you said, I still think of myself as straight. But I'm here with you. I want to be here with you. And I’ve looked at gay porn.”

“God.” Barba scrubbed a hand over his face, apparently trying to hide a smile.

“Sorry," Sonny said, not feeeling sorry at all, and not bothering to hide his own smile.

“No, it’s fine. Before, or since you and I…”

“Only since," Sonny said, and then hedged. "Well, before, a little, but only once I knew that I wanted…”

“I get it.”

Barba reached out and smoothed Sonny's once-again wild hair. The touch was surprisingly tender, as was the look on Barba's face as he quietly observed him. When he began speaking again, his voice was softer, kinder. It was the way he spoke to victims and their families when he was reassuring them, or giving them honest, but sad news.

"You know that you can’t tell anyone about you and I, right?”

“What?" Sonny blinked, surprised. "No. I mean, yeah, I know.”

“We could lose our jobs," Barba said, still toying with the curling fluff of Sonny's hair, gently. "Any case we’ve worked together would be called into question, and-“

“No, really, I get it," Sonny cut him off. "I know.”

“It’s the biggest reason I didn’t think this was a good idea at the beginning.” Barba was still trying to explain, and it sounded so much to Sonny like he was being let down easy that he couldn't bear to hear it. The situation with Barba was still too confusing - thinking about telling people meant telling people that he was gay, or bi, or whatever - and the thought of doing it still made his head swim his stomach twist with anxiety.

That was hardly something he wanted to tell Barba right now, however. He smiled and deflected, turning the situation back to one more light hearted with a joke.

“Oh, yeah?" He gave Barba his best 'caught you' look. "So you were interested in me, but it was work that got in the way and made you resist? Nice, and here I thought you just thought I was a suck-up idiot.”

Barba rolled his eyes, but he also laughed. Sonny felt the tension leaving his shoulders as Barba warned him, “Don’t make me reconsider it.”

“I’m touched, Rafael. You like me.” Sonny grinned.

"What I'd like is breakfast and another cup of coffee." Barba pushed himself into a sitting position and swung his legs over the side of the bed, arching his back in a stretch. "Besides, we should get started on White v. Woodall if you're going to have time to go home and get a suit to wear for tonight."

"I got the one I wore last night," Sonny said, glancing around to see where he had discarded it as he too sat up.

"No, you need to go get a nice suit."

Sonny couldn't help but laugh out loud at Barba's deadpan jab. "God, you really are an ass." He grinned at the other man as he picked up his scattered clothing.

"Sometimes," Barba said, smiling a tight lipped smile. "Do you want coffee cake or eggs for breakfast?"

"You know what?" Sonny returned Barba's smile. "Surprise me."

The title is taken from The Decemberists' "Of Angels and Angles."

YOU GUYS. I MISSED YOU SO MUCH.

I'm in a new job and a new apartment, and I'm finally starting to get my shit back together. I can't thank everyone who kept sending me messages and comments enough. I really love you all and it means more to me than you can know.

I'm so, so happy to be back.

#29 Songs #barisi #rafael barba #sonny carisi #s17/e3 Transgender Bridge #Lazy Morning Sex

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drpsyche · 7 years

Text

Serenader

Word Count: 1767

Rating: T

Based on @shadowpiratemonkey7 ‘s college and fuckboy aus. Our favorite OC from hell comes up with a full proof plan to win over the small gem/girl of her dreams.

I leaned back at the lunch table, Carnelian sat across from me, still eating. She was my wingman, the one person I could count on to bounce ideas off of and not end up in trouble with the RA.

“So,” she says, looking up at me, “Let’s go over this again. You see the girl you like; you’ve made eye contact and your going to start up your first conversation. What do you say?”

“Ask her for nudes?” I respond.

“No.”

“Ask her for… lewds?”

“No.”

“Oh! Send her nudes!”

“No!” Carnelian pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“Did I come off too strong?”

“Yes, harassment is coming off too strong.”

“Damn,” I say scrunching my brow. Talking to girls is so hard. I try my best to get it across and all they usually have to talk about is boring shit, like their studies or how their days went. Why can’t everyone just be direct?

“Alright, so this girl you like, how does she know you? Do you have classes together? Have you talked?”

“I follow her sometimes,” I respond.

Carnelian gives me a weird look. She’s fond of those. It’s one of those that’s a combination of annoyance and disbelief.

“What? She’s never seen me! I think. I can hide really well. I’m sure she’s only seen me once… or twice.”

“Alright, so she probably is aware that you’re stalking her.”

“It’s not stalking! I love her.”

“Have you ever spoken to her?”

“Of course, I asked to use her pen once and we managed to talk a bit about our classes.”

Carnelian has lost the look and seems almost surprised, “That’s… good, a good way to open up and break the ice.”

‘A damn boring way’ I think.

“Yeah, I said she looked nice. And then I said she smelled nice, and then I said she’d look nice naked, and then I asked her what her schedule was like, and then I asked if she was seeing someone, and then I asked if she’d like to go out sometime and then I-”

“Ok, so you screwed up the first meeting… already.” Carnelian says, rolling her eyes.

“Well, I… um”

“At least you didn’t ask her for nudes.”

“Uhhhhhhh”

“Goddamnit A,” Carnelian says putting her face in her hands, “Can’t you just not screw up this badly?”

“But you told me to be myself!”

“No, I have never said that. Mostly because I know you, and being yourself is never a good thing.”

I grumble. Carnelian is not a good friend. All she’s got is bad advice and she tries to keep me on a leash. We need to platonically break up or something.

“Ok, so here’s what I think you should do,” Carnelian says.

An idea comes into my head; more seductive than any idea I’ve had before.

“You should apologize,” she says.

That is not my idea. In fact, apology is one of the nastiest words I can think of, an antithesis to my very being. To apologize is to be wrong! And I’m never wrong.

“No!” I say as my face lights up, “I’ll do it like in the movies, show up at her window at night with a boombox, playing something sexy. She’ll never be able to resist. She’ll be like putty in my hands, sexy sexy putty that I can-”

“No,” Carnelian says, shaking her head, “That only works if you want to apologize, which I doubt you do, or if you need to win her back. As of now, she’ll probably think you’re stalking her… which you are. You need to come off less stalkerish.”

I sigh. I don’t want to admit it, but she might be right. I don’t want campus security coming after me again.

“Ok, what If I do it and apologize to her, in a take me back sort of way?”

“She never took you in the first place.”

“Semantics.”

“Fine, but what would music you play?”

I smile a wide toothy grin, I know exactly the music.

“Lords of Acid!” I say proudly.

“NO!” Carnelian yells, “That’s a terrible idea, what in the hell are you thinking? You wanna blast explicit sex innuendos out in the middle of the night? Are you crazy?”

Clearly Carnelian does not know the seductive power of Lords of Acid. The band can charm the shorts off of any woman.

“Look, I’ll lend you my Marc Anthony CD if you please don’t wake up the whole dorm with industrial music about pussy cats.” Carnelian says.

“Thanks.” I say, smiling. Carnelian always has my back.

{Later That Night}

I jog to the dorms and look up at the windows. A few lights are still on, but most have gone to bed. I finally spy her room (it’s on the third floor), and I pick a stone up. I toss it and hit the window, thankfully not breaking it. I’m getting better at this haha!

I hold up the boombox and press play. Marc Anthony’s seductive music begins to play, and I know, deep down in the very core of my being (or my crotch, same difference) that this will do it. I can see Peri now, wooed at the music, perfectly willing to dispel the ill-informed ideas of me to see the soul of a poet beneath it. Or soul of a lover, I hate poetry, its boring and only really serves to make yourself look good so you can pick up chicks. At least to me… I’ve never had a talent for it. But that doesn’t matter! What matters is that Marc Anthony does and I’ll ride his coattails to get that sweet sweet tail.

There she is! I can see the shadows moving behind the window. Groping… hehe groping is right, for the lights so she may finally see me. C’mon, just look out the window and see me. See me and love me, I know you can do it.

There! I see a flash of blonde hair, the light goes on, the window opens and… oh shit.

“How beautiful!” says the room’s occupant.

My face falls. It’s not Peri, it’s that weirdo law student. What was her name? Yana or something? God dammnit, I’ve got the wrong room. She smiles out at me, clasping her hands together.

“You know,” Yana, continues, “I’ve always dreamed of this. An attractive mysterious stranger showing up in front of my window in the dead of night. Holding up some music in the hopes I’ll leap into their arms and be off! Oh college is such a dream come true.”

She sighs, a blissful look on her face. “I’ll admit though, in my dreams they’re always playing something from Lords of Acid, but hey, not everything can be perfect.”

“uhhhhh,” I say, looking around. This isn’t going according to my plan.

Other lights are turning on as other students are popping their heads out wondering what the commotion was. Goddamnit, how did I get the wrong room?

“So, cutie pie, what made you fall this hard huh?” Yana asks, smiling down at me.

Before I can answer, I hear another voice.

“Yana, who is it?”

I recognize that voice and when the corresponding face comes to the window, I recognize it too. Oh double shit.

Bell looks out groggily down at me, slowly the realization kicks in.

“Alright babe, you know how I said we should keep things open?” Yana asks, “Well, this little thing here just came and-”

“YOU!” Bell shouts, realization blasting away any trace of tiredness, “I remember you! You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up at my dorm like this in the middle of the night!”

“Babe, it’s like… 10,” Yana corrects, but Bell is done listening.

Things have gone down the drain rapidly at this point. Peri’s weirdo lawyer guardian/mom/creature has been a nuisance before, a final block between my destiny and me.

“Get away from her you bitch!” Bell yells and disappears from the windowsill. Yana has her back turned to me and is looking inside the room.

I wonder if I should take my leave before something happens.

Then something happens! A large book comes flying from the window, spinning in the air like a deadly Frisbee. It connects with my boom box and knocks it out of my hands, smashing it and silencing Marc Anthony… forever.

I stand there, dazed, my hands still above my head holding the air where the boom box was. I lower them and turn to the smashed machine. A large thick doorstopper of a book is embedded in it. It reads “Tax Law Volume 1”.

Things have escalated and it’s probably time to run away.

“I’ve got eleven more volumes of those and I’m not afraid to use them!” Bell shouts down at me.

Yeah, definitely time to run away.

I duck as another one flies out at me, and crashes to the ground. It’s impressive that she can throw these huge tomes with such accuracy.

“Bell!” Yana says, “You know how expensive those books are right?”

“Shut up! We’re not studying to be tax lawyers!” Bell replies before furiously throwing the third one.

The fourth one clips my shoulder as I attempt to run away and I’m knocked to the ground. Bell’s yelling profanities at me and quite a bit of the dorm has woken up to watch the festivities. I scan the building and there she is. Peri’s sticking her head out of one of the windows, wondering what’s up. Sure Lapis is right behind her too because of course she would be, she’s always there because she got to Peri first. Peri and I link eyes for a brief second and we share a moment. She shivers at the sight of me, which I will see as a shiver of anticipation and not disgust (I’m very good at ignoring the latter). Then a fifth book comes flying at my head and I manage to roll away in time.

I abscond and manage to get out of range of the sixth book as I disappear into the night. My pride is wounded and so is my body, but my resolve is unbreakable! I will woo this girl! No matter how many heavy-law-tomes-fired-from-a-crazy-lawyer-who’s-also-a-little-bit-attractive-if-I’m-honest that I have to endure. Someday, somehow, I’ll finally get Peri to love me.

Just gotta make a quick stop off at the music store tomorrow to buy a replacement CD for Carnelian. I’m 90% sure the book smashed it.

(I took Yellow and Blue’s names from definitelyameatbag’s fic that they sent in. I didn’t know what to call 8XA so I decided on just a single letter “nickname” ala S/Mystery Girl.)

#8xa #drawbauchery #shadowpiratemonkey7 #steven universe #fanfic

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lululawlawlu-writes · 7 years

Text

Affectionate

(Adventures in Wano: story 2)

It’s a day late but here’s a story for 4th day of the 10 Days of LawLu! Once again, it’s a collaboration with @yumenofude who did this wonderful sketch!

. ༚ ✧༚ … ༚ ✧༚ … ༚ ✧༚ … ༚ ✧༚ … ༚ ✧༚.

To say that Luffy had missed Law while they’d been apart was an understatement. It was glaringly obvious from the way that he crawled into Law’s lap at every convenience to the way he always found an excuse to be by his side. He even insisted they eat, bathe and sleep together as if it would make up for lost time.

The only time Law could get a moment to himself was when he secluded himself in his bathroom to undertake his morning routine. Luffy didn’t really understand the array of skin and hair products that Law used and found them all too confusing. To avoid having to explain their uses every day, he instead made a point to shamble Luffy out of the room and lock the door so he could have a little time to think.

Law desperately needed time to think. He needed to strategize about the best way to take down Kaido, and make contingency plans for when his ally inevitably failed to stick to his desired course of action.

“Mugiwara-ya, do you remember your part in the plan for later tonight?” Law questioned as he emerged from his bathroom.

Luffy who was bent in half digging through a large chest gave no indication that he’d heard the question.

“If we want to take down Kaido, you’ve got to take it seriously,” Law emphasized.

“If you don’t want to get caught all the time, you gotta wear a better disguise,” Luffy responded, pulling himself out of the chest, clutching a finely patterned yukata and obi in his hands. “We gotta look like local people, right, Torao? So wear this.”

Now that he was standing in front of him, Law could see the yukata Luffy had chosen to wear himself. It was a red patterned yukata with blue and green designs dyed into the fabric. The way the brilliant colours demanded his attention was only offset by the way the yukata hugged Luffy’s body and exposed his skin in the most alluring way.

Law had thought he’d long ago reconciled his feelings toward his ally, deciding that he wouldn’t try to become involved with him in any kind of romantic or sexual way. Sure, Luffy was overly friendly and clingy, and called him things like ‘my treasure’ but he hadn’t ever done so much as hint at wanting any kind of physical intimacy. Law had come to accept that theirs was just not that kind of relationship, although seeing the way the fabric of the yukata accentuated Luffy’s body was pushing his resolve.

A small gap at the collar of Luffy’s yukata offered a shadowed glimpse of the soft skin underneath; it made touching, tasting that skin far more enticing than any plain, open shirt ever could. The wide tomoeri-collar drew Law’s eyes down along its hem, crossing over Luffy’s chest along the line of the scar that marked him. The obi pulled the fabric in at his waist, accentuating his lean figure. The yukata looked so natural on him- so strikingly attractive.

“Come on, Torao,” Luffy insisted, tugging Law’s mind out of his thoughts as he tugged on Law’s front jeans pocket with one hand. “I want to see you in yukata too.”

Law swallowed down the impulse to reply that he’d prefer Luffy out of his. Their relationship just wasn’t like that and he knew it.

“Don’t be shying.” Luffy tossed the yukata and obi back onto the big chest that he pulled them from to free both of his hands. Before Law could stop him, he’d grabbed Law’s belt and popped the end out of the buckle.

Law’s hands shot down to catch Luffy’s at his hips.

Luffy looked up at him, speaking, but the words didn’t register in Law’s brain. The only thing his mind could focus on was the curve of his smile. How easy it would be just to lean down and place a soft kiss on his pale pink lips. A longing he’d pushed down inside of himself reminded Law with an aching in his heart just how much he wanted to feel Luffy’s lips against his own. He knew he shouldn’t, but what would it really hurt if he did?

“Torao?” Luffy tugged at the ends of his belt. “Torao?”

“Ugh, sorry.” Law blinked down at him

“Your face is suddenly kinda red,” Luffy noted. “Are you ok? Does it hurt anywhere?”

“Yeah. No. I’m uh, I’m ok,” Law fumbled through his words.

“You don’t seem ok. Your face is red and you were staring,” Luffy noted, bringing his index finger up to trace his bottom lip. A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth as he looked doubtfully at Law. He pushed himself up on his tiptoes, leaning forward to settle Law’s internal debate for him and press a quick, chaste kiss to his lips.

Law’s mind hadn’t fully registered what was happening before it was already over.

“There,” Luffy stated, pulling back from him, “when in doubt, kiss it better. Do you feel better now?”

Law brought his hands up to cup Luffy’s face- his precious little, stupidly cute face. He felt that this was a face he could look at a thousand times and still feel his heart flutter. Luffy’s every expression, stuck pleasantly in his memory and etched itself on his heart.

“You’re being so weird, Torao,” Luffy laughed between his palms. He pushed forward to kiss Law again.

“I just have to keep kissing you until you feel better,” Luffy spoke against his lips, “and kissing you feels really good.”

. ༚ ✧༚ … ༚ ✧༚ … ༚ ✧༚ … ༚ ✧༚ … ༚ ✧༚.

<- previous story // next story ->

#10 Days of LawLu 2k17 #lulaw #lawlu #10 days of lawlu

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transtrendhumanity · 7 years

Text

vex shun memories post, synchro edition

its a bit hard to puzzle out an exact timeline because there are two??? points of divergence from canon? but. hm. i know the revolution shinji started happened successfully, and i know that the lancers spent some time at crow’s place during or after the friendship cup.

the main point of divergence might be shinji & tsukikage’s duel? bc in canon he almost managed to start the rebellion right then and there but then yuzu & chojiro’s battle distracted everyone back into submission, i think that last part just didn’t happen in vex’s verse. like some people got distracted but a good third of the commons who were watching the duels started a legitimate uprising.

a lot of the duels vex just doesn’t remember & its either because ey was trapped in hotel hell or like busy with the uprising, but im trying to figure out like when ey ended up in solidarity with crow & shinji, like if that happened as in canon or before that or...? ok the dennis match definitely happened.

shinji was like ensmenched in the rebellion by the time his duel with yuuya was supposed to start but i think he showed up anyway to try and raise more support for the cause. yuuya was.......... privileged. and unhelpful. i think vex was watching that match but only vaguely?

so then when roger pulled his “yuuya is tops” shenanigans, the rebellion was already happening, and that made it pick up speed.

so then it was crow and shun’s duel, and shun was like a wreck of ptsd and crow was trying to rally for the cause and then the thing with the kids happened.... at the end of that duel it was kind of like. fist bump > raise fists > both shout to the people to Rise Up

so after that i think the friendship cup kept happening but like very few people were paying attention. the rebellion broke into the recycling facility instead of starting there, and that’s sort of when it went from a pest to a threat in roger & the council’s eyes.

the rebellion made it to the council while reiji was still there, reiji and shinji shouted at each other a lot, shun weighed in, reiji ended up deciding that allying with the rebellion was more likely to net him anti-academia soldiers than staying allied with the useless council. the council was ousted.

so everyone who lost duels, instead of regrouping in the recycling, once the recycling joined the rebellion, everyone stayed like at the houses of different members of the rebellion when they needed to rest.

vex has a pretty clear memory of waking up at crow’s place from a ptsd nightmare and heading outside. crow comforting them while some of the other lancers slept on inside, oblivious. that, moreso than their duel, cemented crow’s place as like, someone vex trusted. i guess that would have been after the crow & yuuya duel, so im wondering if after that memory crow told vex what happened with that.

so the rebellion is full swing, the council have been ousted, roger has declared martial law, and the freindship cup is still kind of going on but no one is paying attention.

i think that once the rebellion made it to security headquarters, they managed to break roger’s mind-control machine, and that was the real turning point by which they claimed victory.

i think crow and shinji did argue about the direction of the rebellion but like crow didn’t try to /stop/ shinji. i think it was more along the lines of like [crow voice] we should stop pushing the tops off their buildings, killing people is not excellent. [shinji voice] Are You Sure. i dont think they reached an agreement but by that point the rebellion was too large and diverse for either of them to really control so. some people were murderers and some people were not.

so as far as canon plot, reiji did beat roger in a duel and then roger (attempted to????) drag yuzu to fusion. no memories yet of how successful he was. the thing with the wormhole didn’t happen.

yuuya and jack probably did duel but like no one really paid attention, they were both pretty upset about it.

so at the end of everything, all the lancers were present in synchro except i guess selena and dennis, and reiji helped shinji establish a new executive council. a lot of the tops who didn’t get murdered were shoved in jail, the actual prisoners were almost all let loose. a few genuinely terrible people were among them so it wasn’t the most well-thought-out plan but like. desperate times desperate measures.

i think shinji was proposing projects to turn the tops dwellings into public service buildings when the lancers left. reiji and shinji cooperated a lot and shinji told everyone about the dimensional war and a lot of people who were still feeling the adrenaline signed up as foot soldiers. i think crow ended up falling back into the shadows more. he was like, im proud of shinji and i want to help but also someone’s gotta look after the kids and i think you can handle the politics without me for the mostpart.

so the lancers + like a couple hundred commons soldiers went to xyz, and i think? like jack went with them? and im gonna watch that arc again before i say more about what happened there.

so on the more tender side i have like a ton!! of emotions!! about shinji & crow & shun’s dynamic as like a semi queerplatonic trio?

essentially like. crow and shinji are married. really married, like. shinji saved up for over a year to buy rings and they had a ceremony and crow’s kids carried flowers and it was gay (but not legal bc tops were kinda homophobic). despite being married they’re not particularly openly affectionate, especially in public. partly for safety reasons and partly theyre just not that kind of people.

so there was a curve of like... them beginning to trust shun enough to be affectionate with each other while ey’s present. them allowing him access to their private moments.

and then like... ok so they’re at least a decade older than ey is. i think the ages were like.... shun 18, shinji 28, crow 32? so it was a little bit of them taking em under their wing and a little bit of like... shun being completely alone and not being willing to express vulnerability or share contact with anyone other than them. so little things like fistbumps and back pats, sharing a bed and not cuddling but just being close enough that if shun has a nightmare it’ll wake someone up. shun telling them about yuuto and them being absolutely sympathetic. them telling him about their lost companions in return. them reassuring shun that his leaving xyz wasn’t abandoning everyone.

and this is the first time shun has had any kind of support system whatsoever since yuuto died, so it really means a lot to em.

i think shun ends up getting onto slightly better terms with reiji as well like. no apologies on either side but ey doesn’t feel quite as on guard around daem once theyre all working towards a common cause and ey can actually see reiji at work.

since yuuya stays involved in the friendship cup until the end, idt vex really saw a lot of them at all, and by the time they all go to xyz, vex is still suspicious as hell about what happened to yuuto.

#[memories]#[vex]

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fionatlux · 7 years

Text

STILL STAR-CROSSED, EPISODE 6

Episode 1 / Episode 2 / Episode 3 / Episode 4 / Episode 5

[Nobody has bothered to change the airing information on the Hulu title card. If this episode feels interminable, that’s because IT WAS. The show has apparently decided to substitute relentless subplot action for anything resembling rhythm or character development. Also the writers feel the need to give us the same piece of information five times. In consequence, this episode was both action-packed and excruciatingly boring and all the interesting people were barely in it. On the plus side, there is a lot of good upholstery?]

Previously On:

FRIAR LAURENCE: Paris never left Verona! Lady Capulet has been keeping him in the basement and encouraging him to seduce Livia!

PARIS: Also I was the one who framed Benvolio for murder on Lady Capulet’s instructions!

ISABELLA: Send me to Venice to do politics!

BENVOLIO: Capulet is broke and can’t pay for his cathedral!

MONTAGUE: I am super loaded and will take over cathedral construction with Isabella’s patronage!

ROSALINE: Nobody uses my baby sister or frames my fiancé! Especially not while he’s in the bath. I am rethinking this whole Endgame: Don’t Get Married caper. Hey, guys! He went that way!

A Magnificently Upholstered Tent, Camp Paris, Somewhere Outside Verona

[Paris has matched his outfit to the exquisitely patterned tent lining.]

PARIS: How did you escape your kidnapper?

ROSALINE: Wasn’t kidnapped. Need to see Escalus ASAP.

PARIS: Clearly you are distraught and not thinking clearly!

ROSALINE: Oh, you’re one of those guys.

[So is Escalus. I’m not sure why Roz thinks he’s gonna listen to her this time, when he didn’t listen to her back in ep. 4.]

[There follows an extremely confusing rewind sequence, which had me convinced there was something wrong with my Hulu stream until it started rewinding through some stuff not covered in the Previously On section, at which point it became clear that we are now in an Explanatory Flashback.]

The Room Formerly Known as Juliet’s Room, Casa Capulet

LADY CAPULET: Rosaline was kidnapped by Benvolio!

LIVIA: *gasp*

The Palace

CAPULET: My niece was kidnapped! By your nephew! My wife saw it happen!

[Yeah, we know, we just saw.]

MONTAGUE: Obviously she cannot be expected to marry a kidnapper, so I will marry her myself!

CAPULET: OVER MY DEAD BODY.

MONTAGUE: Fine, give me back the bride-price!

CAPULET: ALSO OVER MY DEAD BODY.

ESCALUS: guys. guys can we focus, here?

The Secret Sickroom, Casa Capulet

LIVIA: What… are you wearing?

PARIS: What’s your problem with brocade? It goes well with eyeliner and cheesy dialogue!

LIVIA: My sister has been kidnapped!

[WE. KNOW.]

PARIS: Allow me to use my private army, which I brought along and has no doubt been sitting around while I recuperate, to find her!

LADY CAPULET: *lurks approvingly*

Casa Capulet

[There is a gorgeous wide-shot of Capulet’s magnificent courtyard]

SOME LACKEY: Montague workers are doing stuff to your cathedral!

CAPULET: OH HELL NO.

[How do building permits work, again?]

[If this episode is 100% stuff that happened in Verona while Isabella and Roz and B. were having character development and shenanigans last episode, this is gonna be real boring.]

Maison Montague

[There is a pretty good wide-shot of Montague’s courtyard, which is not as magnificent as Capulet’s but not bad either. Unfortunately, it narrows into a zig-zagging camera zoom among frozen figures throughout the colonnade. STOP DOING THAT, YOU LOOK LIKE A BAD HISTORY CHANNEL RE-ENACTMENT. THE POINT OF CAMERA-WORK IS TO TELL THE STORY EFFECTIVELY, NOT TO MAKE YOUR VERY EXPENSIVE SHOW LOOK CHEAP. JUST STOP. I’m not saying your low ratings and subsequent cancellation are the fault of the camera zooming--that’s on the network for not bothering to do its job--but it’s certainly not helping! You paid a lot of money to film in a ridiculously gorgeous location and you just zoom right past like you’re ashamed of it! What is wrong with you???]

CAPULET: MONTAGUUUUUUUUUE!

CAPULET: *dodges a lackey*

CAPULET: *knocks into a dude*

CAPULET: *knocks into another dude*

CAPULET: MONTAGUUUUUUUUUUE!

CAPULET: *sends some poor serving-girl’s tray flying*

CAPULET: *bangs into a suit of armor*

CAPULET: *knocks over some poor cabbage merchant’s cart*

THE CABBAGE MERCHANT: MY CABBAGES!!!!

CAPULET: MONTAGUUUUUUUUUE!

MONTAGUE: ’Sup?

CAPULET: You stole my cathedral!

MONTAGUE [in his best James Diamond imitation]: You bet I did!

MONTAGUE: Run along now, I’m terribly busy. Blueprints to review, architects not to murder, you know how it is.

Juliet’s Tomb

[Somewhere in the intervening time between now and when we last saw her body, Juliet has been entombed properly. Either they stopped paying the actress to lie still and be dead, or the dummy disintegrated.]

CAPULET: Our family has been building that cathedral for generations! I was building it so you could get married in it!

[Then maybe you shouldn’t have sold her off to Paris quite so soon! I am seriously doubting your planning skills, Capulet. It didn’t even have a roof! Or any interiors! And you were gonna finish it in, like, six months? Anthony Stewart Head is doing his best to sell it, but as far as added side plots go, this one is, thus far, pointless. (Spoiler: it doesn’t get pointy any time soon.)]

Casa Capulet

LIVIA: Did you find my sister yet?

PARIS: Not now! Gotta breakfast with the would-be in-laws.

CAPULET: You didn’t even come to the funeral!

[And you can’t tell him you were locked in the basement recovering from a stab wound, I guess?]

PARIS: Such a nice family! If only you had an eligible niece I could marry!

LIVIA: :D

PARIS: Gotta make up some story about how we met, I’m not gonna explain that the first time I saw you, you were pouring hot oil on my bare skin.

[It’s supposed to sound salacious, I think? but mostly it just makes me question Livia’s miracle doctor skills.]

LIVIA: I am charmed and maybe also a little suspicious.

[Okay, that last bit is wishful thinking on my part.]

Some Nighttime Street, Verona

CAPULET: How would you like to be paid the back wages I owe you?

SOME GUY, I THINK HE’S CALLED BIANCCI?: Yes please.

CAPULET: How would you like to be paid for a little job I have in mind?

BIANCCI: Only if you pay in advance this time.

Maison Montague

LADY M: So the Prince doesn’t blame us for Benvolio going rogue?

MONTAGUE: Apparently not! Anyway, who cares, this cathedral is gonna put us on the map!

SOME LACKEY: Uh, about that.

The Capulet Montague Cathedral

*boom smashy smash*

[As it turns out, it’s a lot cheaper to sabotage a cathedral than to build it.]

LADY M: oh shit.

MONTAGUE: Somehow, I did not see this coming.

THE NEW ARCHITECT, PRESUMABLY: It’s a curse!

[From the shadows, Nekozawa from Ouran High School Host Club nods approvingly.]

MONTAGUE: There is no curse! It’s just Capulet.

THE NEW ARCHITECT: Architect out!

On the Steps of the Paaaaaaalace

MONTAGUE: I want to see Escalus and I want to see him now!

SOME OFFICIAL: Sorry, the Prince is not at home to visitors!

[Just then, Capulet shows up to gloat. It devolves into a brawl, because the palace guards are useless.]

A MONTAGUE ATTENDANT: *is stabbed*

[Well, shit.]

The Palace

SOME OFFICIAL: Your Grace, could you please stop being obsessed with the search effort for, like, five minutes? Just long enough to do some actual governing?

ESACLUS: No.

CAPULET & MONTAGUE: *bicker*

ESCALUS: Your guy goes in the stocks for stabbing his guy, though evidently it wasn’t fatal, be grateful both of you aren’t joining him, GOOD DAY.

[Actually, that’s a good idea, you should do that.]

CAPULET: Any word of my niece?

ESCALUS: No. Escalus out!

[That’s… it? What did this sequence establish that we didn’t already know? This whole show needs a beta reader.]

Juliet’s Tomb

CAPULET: Thanks for the warning that Montague was gonna steal our cathedral! Don’t worry, I got this!

[I don’t think that’s what her ghost meant last time, and he has in no way got this.]

JULIET’S GHOST, AGAIN: Beware!

The Palace

[Paris has dropped in for a chat.]

ESCALUS: Finally, someone I can actually talk to!

ESCALUS: I used to think my father was a coward for delegating, but now I kind of get it. Still, it sucks. I wish I could be out there right now, being irrational and possessive, instead of doing it from here.

PARIS: Is there any way I, a fellow prince who clearly understands your pain, can help?

[Shit, where’s Isabella when you need her? Did she go to Venice yet? When she gets back, she will definitely know how to deal with slimy weasels!]

The Capulet Carriage, Outside the Palace

LADY CAPULET: How’d it go?

PARIS: He turned me down.

LADY CAPULET: Time to escalate!

[I will never not make the escalation joke.]

PARIS: How much blood do you want shed?

LADY CAPULET: Let’s see. Enough to throw the city into chaos, topple Escalus, and install you as my puppet?

LADY CAPULET: Yeah we’re gonna need a lot. I WILL NEVER BE SATISFIED.

Somewhere in Verona

[Paris and some handsome assassin suit up.]

Some Building, Maybe a Chapel, It’s Not Totally Clear Whose

[A bunch of guys have been brutally murdered. Their affiliation is not totally clear, either.]

ESCALUS: Weren’t there any guards?

SOME OFFICIAL: Well, there were, but you sent them out to hunt down Benvolio.

The Palace

PARIS: I am only too happy to help!

ESCALUS: Bring them both back alive, so I can administer justice. By which I mean chopping off Benvolio’s head myself. Because that is what passes for justice.

PARIS: I am starting to think you may be a little unhinged, but sure.

[As much as I enjoy the sight of The Handsome Assassin, I feel like this whole sequence was redundant.]

The Capulet Carriage, Outside the Palace

[Lady Capulet has matched the brocaded interior of her carriage to Paris’s eyes. These two are serious about their upholstery.]

LADY CAPULET: AWESOME.

Casa Capulet

PARIS: ok, going to find your sister for reals this time!

LIVIA: Bye!

LIVIA: Dear Diary, and then he kissed me and it was magical!

LADY CAPULET: Kill Benvolio, find out what Rosaline knows about our plans, and then kill her too, in that exact order.

PARIS: I kind of think Livia might resent that?

[Show, are you giving Paris an out by making him actually fall for Livia? Sigh. He’s just so slimy.]

LADY CAPULET: Who cares? You’re going to make her a princess, I’m sure she won’t notice.

PARIS: tbh, I am starting to think you may also be a little unhinged, but sure.

Elsewhere, Casa Capulet

[Capulet chews out a guy called Pietro, who I guess is his head of security.]

CAPULET: Does this look like a well-guarded estate to you? CONSTANT VIGILANCE!

The Capulet Montague Cathedral

[Capulet has sent over a couple of tacky religious statues for no apparent reason. Is he making a dig about the Juliet statue from ep. 1? Is he calling Montague gauche again? We’ll never know. No, really, the show’s cancelled, we’ll never know.]

MONTAGUE: Destroy them! And find some more workmen!

SOME GUY: But the curse! It would take a miracle to get anyone to work here!

MUSHU: Did I hear somebody call for a miracle?

MONTAGUE: On second thought, it would be sacrilegious to destroy these fine statues!

The Slytherin Dormitories Lady Capulet’s Room, Casa Capulet

THE HANDSOME ASSASSIN: I want my money!

LADY CAPULET: Don’t you think Paris will be a good ruler? Don’t you want your children to be nobility instead of—what are you, a peasant? yeah, probably—peasants?

THE HANDSOME ASSASSIN: …I guess?

LADY CAPULET: Under the new regime, you will get your reward!

THE HANDSOME ASSASSIN: I feel like you’re asking me to work for free, but you’re also kind of terrifying, so I’m just gonna go.

The Secret Sickroom, Casa Capulet

[The Nurse arrives to help Livia pack up Paris’s sickroom stuff.]

LIVIA: Any news about Paris? Did he find Rosaline yet?

THE NURSE: I wouldn’t know. You two seem pretty close, though.

LIVIA: Can you keep a secret?

THE NURSE: oh lordy. *eyeroll*

LIVIA: We’re in love and he proposed! My dream has come true!

THE NURSE: Uh-huh. Did you tell Lady Capulet?

LIVIA: Not yet! She’s gonna be so happy for me!

THE NURSE: If you say so. I guess?

Casa Capulet

LADY CAPULET: Take this anonymous tip to the palace and make sure it stays anonymous!

CAROLINA, A SERVANT: Lord Montague said nobody is to leave, it’s too dangerous!

LADY CAPULET: Pfft, like I care whether you get assaulted or killed out there.

The Mean Streets of Verona

[The prince’s soldiers have cornered The Handsome Assassin! Probably through sheer luck, since nobody seems to do any actual police work around here. CSI: Verona, though, I’d watch. In fact this whole show would be more interesting if it were a buddy cop caper, since Benvolio and Rosaline only did like an episode’s worth of sleuthing.]

Some Dungeon, The Palace

[Oh, Lady Capulet tipped them off. Gotcha. Well, how was I supposed to know that was The Handsome Assassin’s name?]

[oh my goddd how are we only halfway through the episode this is interminable]

SOME OFFICIAL: Show your ruler some respect!

THE HANDSOME ASSASSIN: What for? He’s a shitty ruler.

ESCALUS: How dare you sow chaos within my city?

THE HANDSOME ASSASSIN: We are everywhere and there will be a new prince and you’ll be first against the wall when the revolution comes!

ESCALUS: So, he’s clearly bonkers and not part of an organized revolutionary cell headed by a shadowy masked man called The Fiend that I should maybe take seriously. Execute him without bothering to find out anything else!

The Palace

SOME OFFICIAL: Are you sure it’s a good idea to leave, BY YOURSELF, at this point?

ESCALUS: Yes, it is a great idea! I am the one and only prince, not whoever this The Fiend guy is, whom I have evidently decided to take seriously after all, but not that seriously because that would make sense, and it is my job to find Rosaline!

SOME OFFICIAL: …it’s not your job, though? Didn’t you send that Paris guy literally ten minutes ago? Your job is to rule the city!

SOME OFFICIAL: Too late, he’s left already. *sigh*

The Capulet Montague Cathedral

LADY M: What are all these rabble doing in our cathedral?

MONTAGUE: Check it out: the statue is weeping blood! It’s a miracle!

[A dizzying series of intercuts signals that we have caught up to the moment Rosaline meets Paris in his upholstered tent. Escalus is riding that horse WAY too fast through a forest weirdly free from undergrowth.]

MONTAGUE: Et voila! Everything is back on track and I am a genius!

LADY M: On track to being burned for heresy, sure.

Somewhere Outside Verona

PARIS’S SOLDIERS: Welp, looks like we lost B. at the river. Can’t find him anywhere.

BENVOLIO: *is really obviously hiding in some bushes like three feet away from them*

Paris’s Upholstered Tent, Camp Paris

PARIS: Have some food! I sound extra plummy when I’m being smarmy and ingratiating!

ROSALINE: Not hungry. Take me to see Escalus.

PARIS: Your sister and I are engaged!

ROSALINE: STAY AWAY FROM MY BABY SISTER OR SO HELP ME I WILL FLIP THIS TABLE AND BURY YOU UNDER A MOUNTAIN OF GREASY PROVISIONS.

Casa Capulet

THE NURSE: You knew about Livia and Paris?

THE NURSE: …oh. You knew about Livia and Paris.

THE NURSE: Shit.

LADY CAPULET: I know you know I know some skeevy shit about Paris and somebody locked in a tower back in Mantua, but I am desperate for some justice here!

THE NURSE: Justice, or ~*revenge*~?

LADY CAPULET: Quite frankly, I don’t see the distinction?

Paris’s Upholstered Tent, Camp Paris

PARIS: I am genuinely hurt that you don’t want to hear about my and Livia’s beautiful love story. Do you know something dodgy about me, perhaps?

ROSALINE: I don’t know anything. I don’t know, for example, that you’re a greasy upholstered double-crosser.

PARIS: Why do you want to see Escalus? He’s been, not to put too fine a point on it, a cruel, hypocritical, irrationally possessive jerk to you. Wouldn’t you rather cooperate with, say, me?

ROSALINE: Nah.

PARIS: ok, cooperate or I kill you and say Benvolio did it!

ROSALINE: I hate ur guts. Also Livia will never fall for that, I left a note.

PARIS: Oh, sorry, you mean this note? My bad.

SOME SOLDIER: Milord! The horses have gotten loose and are running about!

PARIS: Tie up the Capulet while I deal with this!

A Clump of, Like, Dirt, Camp Paris

[Benvolio is hiding behind it, having obviously been the one to loose the horses as a distraction so he can rescue Roz and get the hell out of Dodge.]

Casa Capulet

LADY CAPULET: They caught The Handsome Assassin I tipped them off about, why are we still under house arrest?

CAPULET: Because our dead daughter warned me to beware!

LADY CAPULET: ok but do you have to treat me like a possession to be guarded?

CAPULET: I know you were in love with my brother and only married me for the title, so… yeah.

[WE KNOW. THIS REMINDER SERVES NO FUNCTION.]

LADY CAPULET: Why do you get to have visions of our dead daughter and I don’t?

LADY CAPULET: I mean, you have lost your mind!

The Clump of, Like, Dirt, Camp Paris

[Benvolio starts sneaking around to rescue Rosaline. Somebody taps him on the shoulder with a sword.]

ESCALUS: Boo! [Captured!]

[What was the point of the runaway horses bit, then?]

The Capulet Montague Cathedral, Verona

PIETRO THE HEAD OF SECURITY: My lord, I feel compelled to point out that this is a bad idea.

CAPULET: Don’t care. *torches the cathedral, which burns pretty well for a building made mostly out of stone*

Paris’s Upholstered Tent, Camp Paris

[I know saying “Paris’s Upholstered Tent, Camp Paris” is redundant, it just amuses me at this point.]

PARIS: Your prince is here! Tell him you were kidnapped and I rescued you!

ROSALINE: Nope.

PARIS: Or I kill you, B., and Escalus. With my camp full of guards who are loyal to me. And then take over Verona. Or, I take over Verona and let you live but hold your sister’s life hostage.

[It really pains me that Paris is the only one with a plan. Or brains.]

Camp Paris

ESCALUS: What happened? Did Benvolio hurt you? By which I mean did he have sex with you, consensually or otherwise, because somebody really needs to go off about the BS unquestioned equating of virginity with honor around here. They could borrow a speech from, for example, The Privilege of the Sword.

ROSALINE: Sorry, B., I know you’re gonna think I’m betraying you, but Paris made a compelling point just now about who has a bunch of armed guards at their command and who doesn’t, so here goes.

ROSALINE: Benvolio kidnapped me. Yep. Totally kidnapped.

[Escalus, who is caught up in his own rescue fantasy, fails to remember that she is TERRIBLE at lying and thus doesn’t actually pay attention to her body language. Benvolio, who by now has a Thing about being betrayed, looks pained. It’s not clear whether he’s figured out what’s going on, even though Rosaline is making a looooot of eye contact. I’m gonna guess he hasn’t, since Paris and Lady Capulet are the only one with brains in this episode, B.’s horse distraction plan notwithstanding.]

PARIS: He calls himself the “New Prince,” whatever that means!

ESCALUS: Is this true, R.?

ROSALINE: Yep! Totally true! In short: true!

Juliet’s Tomb

[Lady Capulet, fabulously vengeful and sparkly in a glorious cape/gown combo that’s, like, Alexander McQueen or something, has come to try her luck at seeing her daughter’s ghost.]

LADY CAPULET: Juliet, if you love me, show yourself! Do you love me?

ALL THE CANDLES IN THE TOMB: *go out*

LADY CAPULET: …

LADY CAPULET: Possibly we should have worked on our mother-daughter communication skills more when you were alive.

[DUN DUN DUN!]

Next Episode

#still star crossed #ssc recaps

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