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dreamwritesimagines · 3 years

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Twisted 17 - Mind Games [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, angst.

Word Count: 4700

Summary: Love demands sacrifices.

Not even once in your life had you ever imagined yourself in handcuffs, in an interrogation room on the wrong side of the table.

You weren’t even at the FBI headquarters though. The police had taken you to the station after the hospital, taking a blood sample and your fingerprints, then they had handcuffed you and left you there with a glass of water.

Of course they suspected you. Of course they thought you had murdered him.

Murder was your father’s legacy, after all.

You traced the handcuffs over your wrists, already feeling the bruises forming there. The shock still hadn’t worn off but you were starting to think it was a good thing. It felt as if you were watching all of this from behind some kind of glass window, perfectly aware of every single emotion but unable to actually feel them.

Spencer had said when you felt threatened, your body produced nervous energy, some sort of a fight or flight reaction but for once you weren’t trying to do any of that.

You just sat there, completely frozen.

“You look calm,” the police officer spoke, making you look up, trying to ignore the faint yelling coming from outside, possibly from the end of the hall.

“I’m sorry?”

“Most people would be traumatized if this happened to them, they’d be crying, shaking…” he motioned at you, “But look at you. Still as a statue. You look pretty calm.”

“Would you rather if I were crying?”

“I’d rather if you were acting like a human being,” he said, “Why are you so calm?”

Why were you so calm?

Because your mother had taught you this much. Showing emotion when you were afraid meant weakness.

“My father was a serial killer,” you stated, looking him dead in the eye, “I’ve had a complicated childhood.”

“Yeah, I’d say…” he leaned in slightly, “You know, I’ve watched that documentary about your father. His interviews too.”

You raised your brows as he sniffled, trying to look like he was nonchalant about this whole situation.

“And I’ve spent sixteen years on this job,” he said, “After a while, you don’t even need anyone to speak for you to know what they’ve done. It’s all in their eyes and little girl,” he clicked his tongue, “There’s nothing behind your eyes but ice and death.”

You couldn’t cry. You wouldn’t cry. Not in front of people, not even if they tried to kill you. No matter how much they tried to hurt you-

No emotions.

“Impressive,” you managed to say, “Very poetic. Have you ever considered changing your career?”

“You know what I think?”

“I’m sure you’re about to enlighten me.”

“I think you wanted to follow your father’s footsteps,” he said, “I think you killed Anthony, and all those other people. It’s not even your fault, is it? Some people are just born broken.”

That was more than enough to make your eyes snap up to his and you could feel the lump in your throat but you bit your tongue so hard that you swallowed blood, making sure to keep your expression still.

“Nothing to say?”

“You’ve already decided what to think of me,” you said, “And I already told you what happened. What more do you want to hear?”

“Right,” he scoffed, taking a look at the file in front of him, “You went to bed around 12, didn’t wake up whole night, when you woke up you found him like that. Lying in a pool of his own blood, in your kitchen.”

“You don’t look like a whiskey girl.” an unfamiliar voice made you turn your head and you lowered your glass, tilting your head. The guy smiled at you, and stole a look at the whiskey glass you had put on the bar.

“Yeah?” you asked, “What girl am I then? If you’re such an expert?”

He thought for a moment, “Hmm, wine?”

“Depends on the occasion.”

“What kind of an occasion does whiskey call for?”

“Apparently an occasion for meeting guys with bad pick-up lines.”

He let out a chuckle, “Yeah, I swear I’m normally smoother than this.”

“I would hope so,” you grinned, and offered your hand, “Y/N.”

“Anthony.”

“But you failed to mention the part you texted him to come to your apartment.”

“I didn’t text anyone.”

“We have your phone Y/N.”

“I didn’t text anyone,” you repeated, “Someone must’ve drugged me and taken my phone, the same person who killed him, the same person who obviously broke into my apartment.”

“How convenient.”

You clenched your jaw.

“I always wake up during night,” you said, your voice completely calm and controlled. “Always. I never woke up last night, there has to be a reason for that.”

“If you’ve been drugged, it will come up on the blood tests.”

“Good.”

“While we wait for that,” he said, “Why don’t we go over what you did last night?”

You took a deep breath, “I woke up,” you said “Went to work. I left work at 7 to go to my sister’s place. I left there around eleven, came home and went to bed.”

“Nothing else happened.”

“Nothing else happened,” you repeated and he sat up straighter.

“Okay. Well just so you know, Dr. Spencer Reid—” he started and your head shot up, your heart slamming against your chest, “He is giving us his professional opinion at the moment, about this case and what might have really happened this morning. Do you have anything you want to change in your story before he’s finished?”

You gawked at him, blinking a couple of times before you turned your head to look at the one-way mirror on the wall.

The BAU was there, behind the mirror.

“….They came back?”

“We’ve sent them the report, yes. They landed an hour ago.”

It was as if somebody was trying to claw your stomach out of your body as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, trying to ignore the burning behind your eyes before you turned to the officer.

“I don’t have anything to change,” you managed to keep your voice stable, “It was a terrible thing, it definitely was but I didn’t do it.”

Someone knocked on the mirror, making you and the officer look that way before he pushed his chair back and left the interrogation room. You closed your eyes for a moment, focusing on your breathing through the blinding headache but opened your eyes when the door opened again.

Luke.

He offered you a small smile and pulled himself a chair.

“Hi.”

“Hello,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, sitting up with your back straight, your hands clasped.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you stole a look at the one-way mirror, “Is he there?”

“Reid?” Luke asked and shook his head, “I had to basically wrestle him out of the hall, he’s…he’s not allowed here. Conflict of interest. He’s giving his statement at the end of the hall as we speak.”

You nodded, digging your fingernails into your palms. “Okay.”

“He also called your sister on our way here. Couldn’t reach her, but left a message. Listen, he can’t request it on your behalf, but you need to ask for a lawyer.”

“I didn’t kill Anthony.”

“I didn’t ask if you killed him, I’m saying you need to ask for a lawyer.”

“Does he think I did it?” you asked and Luke shook his head again.

“No,” he said, “But it doesn’t matter what anyone else believes at this point, Y/N. Ask for a lawyer.”

You kept your back straight, rolling your shoulders. “If Spencer left a message to Mina, she’s coming.”

“Is she a defense lawyer?”

“No but she knows a lot of them.”

He took a deep breath and put the bottle of your pills on the desk, “The officers also found this.”

You tried your hardest to focus, moving your wrists to help with the soreness of the handcuffs. “They’re prescribed.”

“I can see that. The side effects say confusion?”

You arched a brow, “I’m sorry, do I sound confused to you right now?”

“No, you sound way too controlled right now, I may as well have been talking to a robot.”

You gritted your teeth, trying to control the panic bubbling at the pit of your stomach, sending anger through your veins.

“I’m not confused,” you stated, “Besides, I haven’t been taking them lately.”

He threw his head back, pressing his lips together, “God, Y/N, you can’t say that. A psychiatrist prescribed you something and you—“

“They’re just for nightmares, they don’t make you…” you took a deep breath, commanding yourself to stay calm, “I didn’t kill him. I found him like that. It was terrible, but I didn’t do it.”

Someone opened the door again and Emily Prentiss cleared her throat.

“Luke,” she murmured, “Spencer.”

You could feel your heart skip a beat upon hearing his name but kept completely still as Luke left the room and Emily and JJ walked into the room.

“You’re taking turns now?” you asked and Emily cleared her throat,

“Me and JJ are the only people in our team who haven’t spent as much time with you, so we figured it would be better if we interrogated you.”

“I didn’t do it.”

Emily pulled herself a chair as JJ crossed her arms, standing by the wall.

“Can you walk me through what happened this morning?”

You took a deep breath, “I woke up,” you said, “With a headache. I knew something was wrong, I felt it. My window was open, the front door was half open and my phone wasn’t where I left it. I stepped outside my room, saw the blood, went to the kitchen and saw—“ you gritted your teeth and clenched your fists, “Saw my ex-boyfriend there. Dead. Lying in a pool of his blood.”

“But you heard nothing.”

“I never sleep for the whole night,” you said slowly, “Check my blood test. Something happened last night.”

“We don’t have your blood test results yet, but there was no sign of any sexual—“

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” You cut her off, a shiver running down your spine, “That’s not it. Whoever it was, they didn’t touch me, they wanted…”

“What did they want?”

You shrugged slightly, “I don’t know. They wanted me to see it I think. My…my father’s crime scenes.”

JJ took a deep breath and pushed herself off the wall.

“And you don’t think it’s a little too convenient?”

You pulled your brows together, looking at her and she stepped closer to the table, her eyes fixed on you.

“Two victims so far,” she said, “The ones that we knew that were in the same place as you, they had some connection to you. That woman who was killed at the charity ball, you didn’t get along when you were kids, you turned her down as a client before she was killed, and now your ex-boyfriend ends up dead, in your apartment because you sent him a—“ she scoffed, “I’m sorry, someone sent him a late night text, inviting him to your apartment.”

“JJ,” Emily started but JJ held up a hand while you tried to wrap your head around it.

She had a point. Two victims so far had some connection to you and that was not a coincidence, it couldn’t have been.

“You think I did it,” you rasped out and she scoffed.

“I think you had something to do with all of this,” she said, “I think you’ve been trying to manipulate Spencer for something. The best case scenario, you were cheating, that’s why Anthony was there and something went bad, the worst case….” She shook her head, “You’re behind every single murder we’ve been looking into, and Spencer was just a tool for you. He’s my best friend, and if I find one single proof that you put him in harm’s way, I swear to God I will destroy you.”

Two people had ended up dead, and that was your fault. The copycat was going after people who had some kind of connection to you, and apparently no one except you and your family was safe.

The idea was way too painful to even exist inside your head, but it was clear as day. JJ was right, you were putting Spencer in harm’s way just by being with him, and if it were him, if you had seen him lying in a pool of his blood, his eyes wide open—

You dug your fingernails into your palms until it hurt before you managed to lift your head, that invisible wall which kept you safe from anyone and everyone who could possibly see anything you felt going up again.

“You…” you trailed off, your throat burning, “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

“What does that mean?” Emily asked but before you could say anything, someone slammed the door open, making you and the agents turn.

Mina.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” she asked no one in particular and stepped aside so that 4 lawyers could walk inside before the police officer rushed to you to remove the handcuffs off your wrists.

“You’re not saying another word,” she snapped her fingers, “Come on, we’re leaving.”

“We’re going to need her to sign some papers,” the officer said as Mina grabbed your wrist to pull you out of the room, making you hiss in a breath and she froze, lowering her glances to check your sore wrists for any bruises.

“What did they do to you?”

You shook your head silently, and something in Mina’s gaze shifted. You had seen it only a couple of times, including that time you were getting stitches after some girls in your classroom had ambushed you in the bathroom, and more importantly, you had seen that look on her face when Lily had fever that one time and you all had to rush to the hospital and the doctors said she couldn’t see her.

It was fire, similar to yours, ready to burn everything in its path.

“Don’t say anything to anyone. You two,” she motioned at the two lawyers, “Read whatever she’s supposed to sign.”

The lawyers approached the desk by the door as Mina put her coat over your shoulders, rubbing at your arms as you swayed slightly on your feet, trying to focus.

“We’re leaving, okay sweetheart?”

“Miss—“

“No,” When Mina turned to the police officers and the BAU team, any trace of softness in her voice disappeared, “You don’t talk. If you don’t want to get into even more trouble, you’re going to listen to me right now.”

The officer that had been with you at the interrogation room just blinked a couple of times, obviously taken aback.

“Do you have any idea what you just did to yourself?” she asked, “What you did to this whole precinct? Because allow me to explain, my sister was a victim in this scenario, and you tried to pin this shit on her to make her a scapegoat,” she shook her head, “We will be suing you for defamation of character—“

“Mina, your sister—” JJ started but she snapped her fingers at her.

“I haven’t even started with you yet, wait for your turn.”

“Mina…” you murmured but she didn’t even look like she could hear you,

“Where was I? Defamation of character because press will be all over this, intentional infliction of emotional stress and wrongful arrest and hey, to make things fun we will also be requesting the security footage in the interrogation room and if I see one very small slip of anything that wasn’t supposed to be said and done in that room…” Mina tilted her head, “Well, let’s just say that by the time I’m done with you guys and this whole precinct, the only thing you will be able to afford is going to be a typewriter and a desk.”

One of the lawyers came to tell you the document was alright to sign and as soon as you approached the desk, a door by the hall opened and Spencer stepped out.

It was almost excruciating not to be able to run to him. He looked as shocked as he was and he took a step towards you but JJ stepped in front of him as you grabbed the pen, ignoring the way your name spilled from his lips in a whisper.

“Oh, hi genius.” Mina called out, “Were you getting a glass of water while your team was hounding my sister or something?”

Spencer looked almost confused only for a moment before he turned to look at JJ who deliberately averted her glances from him.

“Mina, this is not necessary,” you croaked out as you signed the papers and she shook her head.

“No, this is very necessary, trust me. You need to show these people what you’re capable of or they will try to fuck you up, case and point.” She turned to Emily, “You’re the one in charge, I suppose?”

“I am.”

“Good. Consider this your warning, because the next time anyone in your team, including the puppy dog eyes over there gets any closer to my sister, we will be getting a restraining order for each and every one of you.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, still swaying on your feet and you hugged the coat around you tighter.

Not that you could do anything other than watching this.

“Your sister is an active part of this investigation, your father specifically asked for—“

“My sister is a civilian,” Mina growled, “She has no responsibility for this case, you do. How about you surprise me and do your fucking jobs?”

You took a breath to say it wasn’t fair, that it wasn’t their fault but Mina turned to look at you.

“Get in the elevator, we’re leaving.”

You were way too tired to fight her, way too tired to even stand there so you followed the army of lawyers to the elevator, while Mina shot the officers and the BAU members a fake smile.

“Pleasure, let’s never do this again,” she said, and got in the elevator with you, and you tried to keep your expression still, Spencer staring at you until the doors slid close.

“4 lawyers?” you managed to say, “I don’t think even Bundy had four lawyers.”

“Tell that to mom,” she said, “She was on the phone with a congressman the last I checked.”

You couldn’t even smile at that, but Mina let out a breath before pulling you into a bone crushing hug, making the tears rush to your eyes as you wrapped your arms around her.

“Never do that to me again, you hear me?” her voice cracked for the first time and you nodded slowly.

“I won’t,” you said, “I promise.”

***

It was as if someone had pulled all your energy out of your body. You were exhausted, you could barely understand what anyone was saying but you knew there was no way you could sleep anytime soon.

The blood test, as the lawyers had informed you, finally came back and just like you suspected, they had found traces of chloroform in your system. That and your team of lawyers combined were more than enough to get rid of any kind of accusations against you, so at least you had that.

On the other hand, the fear, the guilt, the sadness were still there inside of you, even if you felt way too numb to reach it.

You wondered if Spencer would have a scientific explanation for that.

Your mother had insisted you would never step a foot into your apartment again, she was already looking for a new apartment for you, one with multiple security systems and until that happened she had told you you would be staying at her house.

The damn thing was way too big anyway and you and Mina had grown up there so you figured it would serve as some sort of shelter.

If it even existed for you.

“Here you go sweetheart,” your mother pushed the tea cup towards you, “Drink it, it’ll make you feel better.”

“I’m fine.”

Kenzie heaved a sigh, “It’s okay if you’re not,” she said, “No one expects you to, anyone would be traumatized.”

“The real estate agent already sent me three apartments,” your mother said, “Huge windows, you love a bright apartment.”

“Mom,” Mina said silently and she heaved a sigh.

“It could help her distract herself,” her head shot up, “Y/N, you should go on a vacation! Somewhere far away from here.”

“Somewhere peaceful could be nice?” Kenzie added, “I think that’s a good idea.”

You and Mina exchanged glances.

“I heard Fiji is lovely this time of the year,” your mother said and you let out a breath.

“Mom, two people died because of me,” you croaked out, “I’m not going to Fiji for vacation.”

“Honey, you could use some peace,” she held your chin carefully and lifted it so that she could look at you better, “You look so…”

“I look like how I feel,” you said and turned your head when the doorbell rang, making Mina sit up straighter.

“Who’s that?” she asked when the maid walked in.

“Spencer Reid?”

“What?” you and Kenzie asked at the same time, your heartbeat getting faster and Mina jumped on her feet but you stopped her, shaking your head.

“It’s okay,” you sniffled, nodding to yourself, “It’s….it’s fine. There’s no point in dragging it out.”

“Dragging what out?” Mina asked you but you walked out of the living room and reached the front door, trying to ignore the warmth filling your system as soon as your eyes caught the sight of him. You stepped out of the house and he pulled you into a tight hug, burying his nose into your hair and inhaling deeply as if it helped him calm down while you just stood there, desperately trying to keep the tears at bay.

You had to do it. No matter how much it hurt you, no matter how much you didn’t want to.

No matter how badly it would rip your heart out.

“You okay?” he asked you, his fingers pushing your hair behind your ear, “I tried your apartment but I figured…”

“Yeah, I’m not going back there,” you shrugged your shoulders, “I’ll move out, it’s fine.”

“Do you want to stay at my place?” he asked quickly and you closed your eyes for a moment, every cell in your body begging you to change your mind.

You couldn’t though. You’d rather die than see him lying in a pool of his blood, all because of you.

“Don’t say that,” you whispered and opened your eyes again, “Please don’t say that.”

He looked almost confused, tilting his head to the side like a puppy before it dawned on him.

“Is this about the file on me?”

You shook your head and he took a deep breath.

“About today?”

“I didn’t send that message,” you said, “To Anthony, I mean. I wouldn’t…. I wouldn’t cheat on you.”

“I know that.”

“And I didn’t kill him. I don’t know if you heard, but the blood tests came back positive for—”

“I never doubted that, not even for one second,” he insisted, “With or without blood test.”

“You might be the only one,” you murmured and he paused for a moment.

“What did JJ say to you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Because we had an argument on the jet on our way back here and whatever she said…”

You shook your head again, trying to smile.

“I get it,” you murmured, “She’s your best friend, she’s protective of you. That’s normal.”

“Yeah but if she thinks that you’re capable of—”

“I want to break up.”

You could swear the words burned your mouth, some invisible hand clutching your heart tighter and tighter as you willed yourself to keep your eyes on the street, because you were sure that every wall you built to keep your emotions under control would crash down the moment you looked at him. Out of the corner of your eye you could see that he froze and he blinked a couple of times, as if he was lost.

“What?” he asked silently and you tried to swallow the lump growing bigger and bigger in your throat.

“Y/N, wait—no,” he said quickly, breathing hard, “Listen, whatever they said to you today during the interrogation, if that’s what this is about—”

“It has nothing to do with that,” you forced yourself to say, crossing your arms and he took a step closer to you.

“Whatever the problem is,” he rasped out, “We can solve it, okay? Don’t do this.”

That was when it dawned on you.

It wasn’t enough to push him away. You had to make sure to burn that bridge so that neither of you could ever find your way back to each other.

“It’s not one of your cases Spencer, you can’t solve this one,” you muttered and finally turned your head to look up at him, your stomach churning at the sight of betrayal on his face.

“I don’t understand.”

“You—it’s—“ you stammered, trying to find the words, “It’s going way too fast, alright? It’s going way too fast and it’s going to fucking crash, and I can’t—“ you cleared your throat when your voice cracked, “I’m not going to crash with this, I can’t.”

Your father had taught you this way too long ago, when you were too young to even question it.

Stab the prey, twist the knife, pull it back and watch them bleed.

Stab the prey.

“I mean come on Spencer, we’re not in love or anything,” you shrugged your shoulders, “Should be easy enough.”

He stared at you for a couple of seconds, his mouth slightly agape and his brows furrowed, shock written all over his face.

“We’re not in love?” he repeated, “You…you don’t love me?”

Twist the knife.

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

His eyes searched your face, as if looking for any kind of clue that could tell him you were lying, or that it was a trick but for once, it was in vain.

You’d had spent years learning how to control your emotions and your expression when it came to heartbreak.

Pull it back.

“It’s not my fault if you’re in love,” you said, each word making you hate yourself more and more, “I can’t be held responsible for that.”

Stabbing yourself would’ve been less painful, you were sure of that but you knew you had to keep going. One last step, one last sentence and you would be done.

Watch them bleed.

“I never told you to love me.”

Then, silence.

You had to give it to him though, it took him faster than it would’ve taken you to pull yourself together if you were the one on the receiving end of this. He blinked back the tears, clenched his jaw and in a second, his gaze turned cold, exactly like yours.

“Yeah,” he said slowly, nodding, “You didn’t.”

But you had forgotten one small detail.

Spencer knew how to withdraw that knife and stab back.

You cleared your throat and turned around to get inside the house but before you could step in, you heard his voice.

“I was wrong.”

You looked over your shoulder, clutching at the straws to keep it together, “I’m sorry?”

“I was wrong,” he stated, his voice was distant and held no trace of its usual warmth, “Before, I mean. In terms of behavior and psychology, you’re exactly your father’s daughter.”

With that, he walked away from the house, and you just stood there for a moment before stepping into the house and closing the door behind you, that comfortable haze of shock slowly withdrawing from your mind like mist. That hand squeezing your heart twisted it in your chest and you tried to breathe, pressing a hand on your chest.

“Sweetheart?” your mother called out as she stepped into the hallway, then slowly approached you, “You okay?”

It was impossible to stop the tears rushing to your eyes now and a gasp escaped from your lips as you shook your head.

“Mom,” you whimpered, “Please, my—my heart hurts...”

She rushed to you and shushed you gently, pulling you into a tight hug and caressing your hair as you slipped to the ground and you buried your face to her shoulder.

Then the sobs came.

Chapter 18

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #spencer x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer imagine #spencer imagines #reid #spencer #reid x you #reid x reader #reid imagine #criminal minds imagines #twisted

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migilini · 3 years

Text

Not So Secret Anymore - Charlie Gillespie

summary: It’s hard to hide a relationship from the public, particually when both work on the same show.

words: 2.5k

warnings: fluff

a/n: not my fave but i still somehow like it.

Requests are open :)

MASTERLIST

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September

"When do we have our first interview?" you asked the boy whose head was in your lap. He looked up from his phone and your eyes locked with his green ones "Hmm, my calendar says in about 30 minutes."

You groaned at that and stopped playing with Charlie's hair which earned you a grunt and whine from him. "Sorry babe but I think I have to go, so I still have time to get ready and set up." You muttered and gave him a small kiss on his brown hair.

"Uhh fine." The weight lifted from your legs, you stood up and before you knew it you were thrown over his shoulder. Laughing, you slapped his butt and back repeatedly. "Babe! I mean it" you tried to press out between giggles, "we both decided to keep us a secret." He sat you down on the kitchen isle and cornered your body in between his arms, standing right in front of you, you're back hitting the kitchen cabinet.

"I know... come back later?" he asked and tilted his head, looking at you with big puppy eyes. "You know it." After a swift kiss, or rather a little make out session, you were on your way back to your own appartement. Just in time to change your top and put on a lip-gloss before opening your laptop and joining the interview.

"Hello everybody! I'm here with the cast of Netflix' Julie and the Phantoms that came out on Thursday. How are you guys?" the interviewer asked and smiled into the camera of his laptop. The whole cast chirped in with a good, great, or amazing.

"That's fantastic!" he clapped his hands "Now, Jeremy, how would you describe your Character and the show in general?"

"It's a show about ghosts from 1995 who come back 25 years later and join a band with Julie who didn't sing a note after her mother died. Reggie, the character that I play, is one of those ghosts and he is a loveable himbo. Did I use that word correctly Maddie?"

Maddie smiled and the interviewer changed the topic "Madison and y/n, birds have told me that this was your first ever acting job is that right?"

You nodded and signaled Maddie to speak first "Yes, and it was both amazing and traumatizing! I was so nervous, but the crew really helped to calm me down, especially y/n who just was in the same position as me, so we freaked out together most of the time." She smiled and the interviewer waited for you to answer. "Except, Maddie had a least some acting training at school, that's why she is the best. I more or less walked into the whole situation." You said laughing.

"I love this story." Jeremy exclaimed, making you slightly blush at his words.

"Would you be so kind and tell us?" the interviewer questioned and smiled at your little nod.

"Yes, yes of course. Well, I was on vacation with one of my good friends from back home..."

"She means Germany." Owen interrupted with a smile on his lips. "Yes, Owen. Thank you for adding important details. Anyways, we saw that there was an Open Audition nearby and though why not? We don't have anything to lose or to do on that particular day. And here I am, my friend sadly didn't get in."

"That really is an amazing story, I can see why Jeremy likes it so much. So, Charlie how would you describe y/n's and Luke's characters, she wasn't supposed to be in the script and was later added in right?" Charlie quirked up at the mention of your name and stated proudly. "Indeed, she impressed Kenny so much that he wrote a character just for her. He thought that Sunset Curve, the band name before we died, needed a female to handle their chaos or well... at least tries to. Y/N plays Allie, who against common speculation isn't any of the boys' love interest which is a very nice turn of events. She and Luke bud head a lot because Luke only thinks about music and the band and she tries hard to make him take breaks every now and then."

A lovesick smile sat on your face while you listened to your boyfriend of nearly a year, once you realized your expression you quickly shook it off. Hiding this relationship was definitely going to be harder than expected.

The Interviewer asked some more questions before the last and dreaded question was thrown your way. "So, most of your fans are wondering if any of you guys are in a relationship." You and Charlie had discussed a million times before what you guys would say in such a moment, the two of you shared a look.

Jeremy's eyes switched from Charlie's box on his screen to y/n's before answering "I have a lovely wife! The rest of us are happily single, right guys?"

"100%" Maddie added, while Owen only shrugged, his dog conveniently jumping into his lap.

"How about the other two?" he eyed up the last remaining.

"Very single" Charlie laughed, and you agreed "Totally."

As time went on it was harder and harder for the two of you to hide the relationship, as you two spent nearly every day together and therefore did the same activities. Particularly after your social media accounts have gained over a million followers and people started to ship actors and tv show characters. But you two loved the little secret bubble you've created, there was no pressure to take good pictures together, or to post stories, to be asked a thousand questions about your relationship and no hate towards any of you.

December

It has been 4 months since the show released and the hype it got definitely was way more than you ever expected. It blew your mind. Currently, you are on Charlie and yours one-year anniversary / Christmas / good deeds vacation. Charlie and you found a good mix, that made you both happy, between chilling and doing adventurous things.

It was Christmas eve and Maddie wanted to do a 'guess the song Christmas Edition' with the main cast. Eagerly you agreed and hurried from the beach, where Charlie currently took the quiz at the bar you both sat on just minutes before, to your shared bedroom. You shot Maddie a quick text that you were 'out of the relationship zone' and ready when she was ready.

"Helloooo. How did the others do?"

"Not the worst but I still have faith in you to win this. ARE YOU READY?" she screamed the last part.

“I’m going to read you the lyrics of a christmas song and you have to guess the next line. There are certain cards that give one point and others give two. Whoever has the most points at the end…”

“Hopefully get your earrings” you asked with a sly smile and your shoulders raised.

Maddie laughed but shook her head “Sadly, no. I haven't figured out the price yet, but I for sure will! I like your backdrop by the way.” she added and you quickly looked behind you. You sat crisscrossed on the hotel room floor, you used the coffee table and a water bottle as a phonestand and used a white checkered wall as a background to try and hide the fact that you didn't sit in your living room.

January

“This should be the last box.” you cheered into the empty hall and shut the front door with a light push from your hip. Charlie popped his head out of the bedroom and walked over to, dropping his head on your shoulder in exhaustion. Nothing was set up, boxes stood randomly all over the apartment, the fridge stood there still empty and a lonely mattress covered the bedroom floor.

“The walls look a bit bare don't you think?” you said about a week later, standing in the middle of the now a bit furnished living room. Strong arms sneaked their way around your waist and a head dropped on your shoulder.

“Hmm… you're right. What do you have in mind?” Charlie said and turned you around so you were facing him. He smiled at the spark in your eyes “I was thinking, a yellow akzent wall with random secondhand pictures and some pictures of us, all in frames of course. So it's gonna have this homey and creative atmosphere.” You rambled on for a while longer, telling him where you think his instruments could go, the pillows you saw online and thought they worked perfect with the colour of the couch. Charlie just stared at you, a dumb smile on his lips with his arms around you.

“Do you not like it?” you noticed that he hasn't talked for a while and got worried. “I love it. We could live in a dumpster for all I care, as long as I have you by my side.” You fake gaged at his romantic words and gave him a kiss.

The first time people got really suspicious was the time you accidentally walked in on a live he had on Instagram. He sat in front of his instruments, phone propped up before him. You thought that he was already finished but you were wrong.

“Do you think this…” you walked into the room, a shirt in your hand that you just took out of the dryer and lost your words the moment you saw him sitting in front of his phone. He looked at you with wide eyes, his brain clearly searching for a good excuse.

“Is that y/n?” he read outloud from the chat, gesturing you do sit next to him. “Yes it's her! We’re hanging out and she helped me with my washing because I somehow still don't know how to do it.” he laughed nervously, his hand grabbing yours out of the frame.

“He promised me food and I live really close by, so I thought I'll help this poor man out.”

May

Looking back at this moment now, you and Charlie weren't sure why you just didn't come clean. You didn't mean to hide the relationship this long, it just kinda happened and at one point it just got too awkward to tell. It was fairly easy to hide most of the time, you didn't most that much on instagram and Charlie only showed parts of his daily life.

The easiest was the time you filmed JATP Season 2. You were expected to hang out and live together. Back in 2019 you already lived with Owen and Charlie. This time poor Owen had to live with a couple instead of just two friends. (You were already dating for a while back then but didn't tell the cast, to not make a fuss.)

It wasn't like the fans didn't suspect a thing, especially after Owen posted a video of you two fooling around.

Everybody sat outside, enjoying the everwarming sun on their skin. Half of the cast was already in costume just waiting for the break to end. In typical Allie (your character) fashion you wore an overall with a tight tank top underneath, your makeup stood out from the others with the heavy blush, freckles and black eyeliner.

Charlie, in his Luke wardrobe, thought that it was funny to stand in front of you to shield you from the sun.

"Stop that" you whined and tried to shove him away, which was harder than you thought considering he stood before you and you sat on a bench.

"Make me." He flirted and stood even wider before you, puffing out his chest. Raising an unimpressed eyebrow, you stole his beany with a swift motion. His expresion quickly changed from cocky to shocked, snickering was heard from Maddie who was used to this type of behaviour.

"Ups… heavy wind blows in the shadows." You explained nonchalantly and pulled the beany on your head, sticking your tongue out at your boyfriend.

"Oh it's on my lady" he growled "I'm giving you a three second advantage. One…" your eyes widened and your heart rate picked up. "Two…" you got up and scanned the place internally making a good running line. "Th-.." you began sprinting across the lot. You heard the laughing from your castmates behind you as you and Charlie ran in circles.

Unfortunately, he was still fitter and faster than you and about a minute into the running he had you thrown over his shoulder.

"Surrender!" he screamed as you tried to wiggle out of his grip.

"Never!" You screamed back and wiggled even harder.

"Surrender or i'll have to tickle you" he warned and those were the last words Owen was able to film before a producer yelled that the break was finished.

February

“Baby, if I would believe this News Article, you have a secret girlfriend, but it's not me.” you showed him your phone screen.

“I’m not cheating on you. I would never, i'd die rather than…” his frantic expression made you snort. “I know. Oh my god! People saw you with Lia.” you held his hands comfortably.

“Lia as in your best friend Lia?”

“The one and only. People noticed the hickeys... At least they’re getting closer now. So are we still on for the masterplan? You by instruments and I'm gonna sit in the bedroom?" He nodded and smiled at the sight of your equally plastered neck.

Eventually, before you even were able to execute the as you'd like to say 'masterplan' your relationship got outed. I mean it was time, the two of you getting lazier with the hiding as time went by.

Fans noticed that you wore a lot of Charlie's things and that you and him always seemed to be at the same place at the same time. It was actually one of your lives that spilled the secret.

"That's a really nice akzent wall" you read outloud from the chat "oh thank you! It was a long process to get all the pictures but it was actually Charlie's idea to not only have pictures but also plane tickets, date memories and so on hung up on that wall. It really makes it homey. I think to get that wall this crowded it took us...what? About well since we moved in…" you didn't even realise what you said you just babbled and then it was out.

"Charlie actually is home! I could call him. Babe! Come here for a sec- oh my god!" Your hands flew up to your mouth in realizion.

From that moment on you were public and your social media exploded once again. However the two of you were happy to finally show each other off.

#charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie fanfic #charlie gillespie fic #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie x oc #charlie gillespie x y/n #jatp fanfic

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fickleminder · 3 years

Text

the years start coming and they don’t stop coming

In which Lilith’s return distorts her brothers’ perception of time.

Part 2 here

You’ve never seen the demon prince look so embarrassed.

“I can call for —”

“No, it’s okay. They deserve this.”

But you don’t, goes unspoken. You can see the pity in his eyes, feel the palpable disappointment in the air. Even Simeon and Luke make sure to hug you extra tight before stepping through the portal to the Celestial Realm, and Solomon promises to check up on you after you’ve returned home.

Thanking Lord Diavolo and Barbatos for their hospitality, you turn towards the final demon in the council room and put on the biggest grin your breaking heart can muster. “Hey, c’mere.”

Satan doesn’t hesitate to throw his arms around you. It’s almost like he’s trying to make up for his brothers’ absence, the way he crushes you to his chest and cradles the back of your head.

You can’t find it in yourself to blame them. As far as miracles go, this is a pretty big one. Lilith coming back to life is an unprecedented event, one not even Barbatos had seen coming. Nobody has any answers either. She’s definitely not a demon, not an angel, not human; just an immortal who knocked on the front door of the House of Lamentation three days ago.

Her brothers haven’t left her alone since. You’re happy for them, you really are, but a bitter part of you can’t help but wish her return had waited until after the exchange program ended. At least Lucifer had the courtesy to pull you aside and thank you on his family’s behalf (though you’re quite certain you had nothing to do with your ancestor’s sudden revival), in addition to making a pact with you as a token of his gratitude.

With that, you could have summoned all of them to send you off just as effectively as Lord Diavolo giving the order, but it won’t be the same and you know it. Your only saving grace is Satan, the one brother who’d kept his head and anchored you in the sea of loneliness you’d been set adrift in over the last few days.

“I’m gonna miss you, cat boy.”

“I miss you already,” Satan laughs softly, pulling back with a warm smile. “I’ll stay in touch, I promise.”

You squeeze his arms affectionately and glance past his shoulders at the closed doors. There’s the smallest shred of hope in you that thinks the others will come bursting through any moment now, scrambling for one final chance to see you. You give yourself five seconds, silently counting down to a pipe dream, before pressing a kiss to Satan’s cheek and releasing him.

“It might not seem like it now, but the Devildom will always be here for you,” Lord Diavolo says as the world around you fades to white. “Farewell.”

“Did you lose track of time at the library again? You missed dinner last night LOL.”

“Levi, be nice!”

Satan only hums quietly in response. He can’t be bothered to correct the assumption; it’s a convenient excuse for when his brothers actually notice he’s missing anyway.

The irony of Levi calling him out isn’t lost on him. While the otaku is still obsessed with his games and shows, he’s no longer as shut-in as he used to be, venturing outside the comforts of his sanctuary more often. Satan has passed by the common room on many occasions to find him and Lilith gaming or binging anime together, and the content expression on Levi’s face proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that the void from his Henry’s departure has long been filled.

“Oh, but speaking of,” Lilith sets her cutlery down and smiles shyly at the fourth-born, “I haven’t had the chance to explore the libraries here yet. If it’s not too much trouble, can you show me around and recommend a few books?”

Shrugging non-committedly, Satan continues with his meal, not once looking her in the eye.

You’ve always wondered how someone with the Avatar of Lust for a brother can have such terrible fashion sense. It should be impossible to go wrong with dressing for a funeral, but you guess life (along with a certain eyesore of a tie) just loves to disappoint you. Still, you’re too glad to have Satan with you right now to care.

“Thanks for coming.”

“Anytime.”

You lean into the demon’s side as he holds an umbrella over both of you. Your eyes are drawn to the flowers he’d placed on your mother’s grave, the only splash of color against the dull tombstone. For the longest time, all you can process is the pitter-patter of the afternoon rain on the plastic wrap of the bouquet, and the comforting weight of Satan’s arm across your shoulders.

“She was in a lot of pain,” you admit after a while, your voice slightly hoarse. “The doctors had to sedate her. She went in her sleep.”

“I’m sorry.” Satan fidgets awkwardly, not quite sure what to say. He’s no stranger to death, but the loss of someone dear is unfamiliar to him. “Perhaps Simeon can find out if —”

“No, no it’s fine. I just — I need to —”

The umbrella is forgotten as Satan catches you, lowering you gently to the ground when your knees give way. You cling to him desperately, and it’s all he can do to draw you close as you start to wail.

Satan barely makes it three steps into the house before getting pounced on.

“How was it? Where did you go? Ooh you lucky demon, I want to hear all the details!”

“Oi, oi! What are you babbling on about?”

“Don’t act coy with me! Lilith saw you at the florist’s yesterday with the most gorgeous bouquet of flowers!”

“Yesterday? But —”

“How come you never told me someone caught your eye? I would have dolled you up, lent you some of my clothes —” Asmo gasps dramatically. “You didn’t wear that horrid jacket to your date, did you?”

Wrestling a hand free, Satan musses his younger brother’s hair. “None of your business,” he growls, walking away with a smirk when Asmo immediately releases him to fix his appearance. “Who do you take me for, anyway?”

“Aww come on, just give me a hint! Do I know them? Is it someone from RAD? Ooh, did you meet them at the library or —”

Ducking into the safety of his room, Satan shuts the door in Asmo’s face.

“Thank fuck. Who picked your outfit this time?”

“Barbatos. And shut up.”

You grab Satan’s arm with a laugh and lead him towards your table, politely introducing him as ‘Stan from work’ to any relatives who ask about the handsome young man accompanying you. Satan’s usual mask is in place, but there’s no mistaking the gleam of wonder in his eyes as he takes in his surroundings.

“Finally,” you sigh, sinking into your seat and grinning sheepishly at the blond. “Sorry about them. It’s just that they’ve never seen me with anyone, so they’re really curious about you.”

“Well, I’m glad you invited me along. I’ve never been to a wedding before.” The romantic in Satan is openly basking in the ambience of the reception. “You mentioned that your niece had gotten married?”

“Technically my first cousin once removed, but yeah.”

“And you’ve not been seeing anyone?”

“You would have been the first to know if I have,” you tease, nudging him playfully. “Apparently a lot of people are put off by the way I dress. Too modest, they say.”

But not without good reason. The pact marks on your body may be slightly faded from disuse, but they’re still discernable if stared at hard enough: Lucifer’s at the back of your neck; Mammon’s over your heart; Levi’s curled around your right calf; Satan’s circling your left arm; Asmo’s dangerously close to tramp stamp territory; Beel’s just under your navel; and Belphie’s on your ribs at the side you like to sleep on.

Passing them off as tattoos without attracting the wrong kind of attention is a little tricky, so you’d rather take a page from Solomon’s book and cover them up. Being called a prude is easier than dealing with cultists.

(It also helps you to keep your mind off of them, because some wounds continue to hurt even after they heal, so there’s that.)

Sensing the drop in your mood, Satan clears his throat to get your attention. It’s only then that you realize there’s music playing in the background, and couples moving from their tables to the floor.

Your companion stands up and offers you his hand, this time with a genuine smile on his face. “May I have this dance?”

Lucifer’s tone books no room for argument. “This will be a family event, so I expect your attendance. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your little escapades over the past few months.”

“Tch.”

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Whatever. I’ll be there.”

Satan has to resist the urge to hurl his hardcover at the back of Lucifer’s head when he takes his leave. That’s no way to treat a book, after all.

Beel’s Fangol team has an upcoming match and it’ll be Lilith’s first time watching him play. She’s been hyped up for weeks, so it comes as no surprise that Lucifer would use the opportunity to turn it into a family outing. He’s been doing that a lot lately.

Gone is the stuffy first-born who can spend days in his office if left unchecked. Lucifer is still as strict as ever, still fulfills his duties to Lord Diavolo diligently, but it’s like he’s managed to master balancing work and play overnight. He makes more time for his siblings now, even if it’s to dole out punishments for their endless shenanigans, punishments that vary in severity depending on how cutely Lilith pleads on their behalf.

Lucifer has always doted on her, and she has him wrapped around her little finger. Belphie has even gone as far as corrupting her into pranking him, and she need only bat her eyelashes to get off scot-free.

Lilith was the catalyst for the Fall, her descendent the glue that brought her siblings back together, and her return the final piece in making their family whole again.

But you were family too, Satan thinks sourly, pulling out his D.D.D. to mark the date in his calendar.

When you invite Satan over to your apartment for tea, he never expected to be introduced to your new housemate: a handsome fellow with chestnut brown hair, sharp jade eyes, a runner’s body, and the softest-looking toe beans he has ever seen in his immortal life.

“Satan, meet Satan!” You hold out the tabby towards him with a shit-eating grin.

Both demon and cat blink owlishly at each other. The blond doesn’t know whether to feel endeared by the feline sharing his name or insulted that you would replace him so easily, but all it takes is a single bop on the nose with a curious paw for him to melt.

Satan the tabby, who normally prefers to scale your shelves and nap between your books, spends the entire day a purring puddle in Satan the demon’s arms, shamelessly relishing in pets and massages to the extent that at some point, you have a very real fear they might just end up absconding back to the Devildom together. Thankfully, some kibble and freshly baked treats help you separate the two for a while, at least long enough for you to get some decent conversation in.

You brew a pot of Earl Grey with the beautifully crafted tea set Barbatos gifted you when you had first moved in, and serve the scones you made earlier in the morning using the baking tools blessed by Luke during your housewarming. You don’t know if the little angel had actually imbued them with Celestial magic, but everything you cook somehow always lifts your spirits when consumed.

Satan has to catch himself in the middle of regaling you with Mammon’s latest half-baked scheme. The wistful look on your face is new; you’re usually eager to hear what his brothers have been up to, but something feels off today. He pours you more tea, slides another scone onto your plate, and waits.

“…Are they happy?” You ask after a while.

The demon knows better than to lie, even if it’s to spare you from the truth he suspects you’re already aware of. “Yes,” he admits grudgingly.

“I’m glad.”

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

Lilith stands outside his room, holding a tray of tea and cakes.

“Hey, um, may I come in?” Her smile is both hopeful and uncertain. It’s a gamble, ambushing the fourth-born when he obviously has no interest in her. At best, he’ll make up an excuse to turn her away or just ignore her completely; at worst, well… she doesn’t really want to think about that. To her visible relief, he opens the door wider and steps aside.

Satan clears a space for her to set the tray down. There’s the briefest moment of hesitation before he drags your favorite armchair over and offers her a seat as well. He looks guarded but not openly hostile, a promising sign so far.

“You’ve been in and out of the house lately, so I haven’t had the chance to catch you. I thought we might sit down and talk,” Lilith says, pouring two cups of the hot beverage as she chooses her next words carefully. “The others told me about how you were born, but I understand that you are your own person. I’d like to get to know that person.”

A part of Satan is acutely aware of their one-sided relationship; he is familiar with her through Lucifer, but she has never met him. It makes sense for her to be curious about him, though Satan isn’t so sure he wants to return the favor. She reminds him too much of you in the way she prepares her tea, how she sits on your chair, her shy lopsided smile —

But she’s not you, and you’re not her, Satan has to remind himself lest he commits the same mistake his brothers nearly did after your lineage had been revealed. Now in a convoluted turn of events, it’s you who’s gone and Lilith here, and there’s no reason why he can’t give her a chance and treat her like the sister she could be to him.

It’s what you would have wanted.

Lilith tries not to let her shoulders slump too much when Satan quietly stands up and heads towards his door. She’s prepared to pack up and leave until she spots him grabbing several books from a nearby shelf.

“Have you ever read Mid-Fall Murders?” He asks, handing her a hardcover with a shy smile of his own.

“What’s it like?”

Satan’s grip on your hand tightens. “I don’t actually know,” he confesses, shuffling closer so that your shoulder and arm are pressed against his. It’s a strange sight, the two of you lying side by side on your bed, staring aimlessly at the ceiling.

“Will it hurt?”

“No.”

You’ve never heard a single word hold so much promise, but you have no reason to doubt the demon’s sincerity. Satan wouldn’t take pity on you just because you’re —

A light knock on the door, and in pokes Simeon’s head. “Ah, little lamb! I’m glad we made it in time.”

“Not so little anymore, Simeon.” You laugh softly, greeting Luke and Solomon as they trail in behind him. Satan brushes his lips over your forehead before getting up to receive your guests.

The day is as ordinary as it can be. You talk and catch up with your friends, trading stories and laughter over cups of tea that neither grow cold nor go empty. When the session turns into a mini book club gathering halfway through, Luke helpfully retrieves the debated titles from the massive shelf in the living room. He takes a while to find them; you’ve accumulated plenty of works over the years: recommendations by Satan, literature published under Simeon’s pseudonym, and handwritten tomes from Solomon to keep you in touch with your magic. The shelf is practically jam-packed with books, the only exception being a corner on the topmost tier, housing a little space that’s empty save for a worn green collar with a rusted bell.

Come sundown the five of you are still neck-deep in discussion, but as with all good things, the get together eventually reaches an end.

“Thanks everyone, it’s been fun,” you say, reclining back in your bed as Satan wordlessly cleans up. You squeeze his hand when he returns to your side and bid the others goodbye. “Hopefully I’ll see you guys soon?”

“About that…” Solomon clears his throat, wearing the smug look that usually accompanies a trick being pulled out of his sleeve, but this time it’s tinged more with excitement than mischief. “Simeon has a little present for you first.”

The guileless smile on the angel’s face betrays nothing as he steps forward and reaches into a small pouch at his hip. “Solomon, Diavolo and I have a theory. Now, keep in mind that this is all very experimental, but if it works, you’ll have more options to choose from, should you so wish.”

And then he brings out a ring.

“Are you, uh, are you okay?”

“Not in the mood, Mammon.”

“Oi, I’m trying to be nice here! Who do you think covered for your sorry ass when you came back past curfew the other day, huh?”

“What the hell do you want?”

“You may think you’re all stealthy and shit, but your eyes were pretty red that night. I thought you were at a book club meeting. Did something happen?”

“None of your business.”

“Argh, fine then! This is the last time I try to be a good big brother.”

“…Mammon?”

“?”

“...”

“I’m sorry.”

“Eh, what are you — you can’t just say that and then run off! Get back here!”

“Twenty, nineteen, eighteen…”

Lilith’s countdown echoes along the deserted hallway, prompting Beel to nudge the deadweight on his back. “Belphie, go get your own hiding place.”

“Mmngh… zzz…”

“Come on, or she’ll win this round with a two for one. Again.”

“…Just dump me somewhere she won’t find me then.”

A tall order, especially since Lilith can easily track them down by listening out for Beel’s stomach and/or Belphie’s snores. Still, the sixth-born lumbers through the house as quietly as he can, doing a one-eighty whenever he hears Lilith’s cheerful hums coming from the opposite direction. Technically they can avoid being caught if they keep moving, but that would be cheating. They hid in the attic previously so that’s a no go, their room’s too obvious, the kitchen too tempting, the common room too exposed…

Maybe Levi’s room? The otaku had sound-proofed his walls to avoid distractions from the outside world when he’s gaming, so it’s an ideal location to hide. He can stash Belphie in the bathtub and run interference until time’s up.

Backtracking, Beel breaks into a light jog towards the other wing, keeping his ears open for their seeker. It’s only because of his heightened senses that he’s able to pick up the faintest traces of magic on one of the walls, causing him to pause in his steps.

“Hmm? Why’d you stop?” Slightly more awake now, Belphie rubs his eyes and slides off his twin, who’s studying the blank space intently. “What’s wrong, Beel?”

“There’s something here, something…”

“It’s just a wall —”

“No, don’t you feel it? I know you weren’t around then, but it’s the same glamor as that time Luke went missing and we —”

Beel goes white. He whispers a name, a name not spoken in the house for years, and a door flickers into view. One hand grabs Belphie’s in a death grip as the other twists the knob and pushes the door open, revealing an old yet familiar room.

The place is devoid of life. Most of the furniture are covered by sheets, resting under thick layers of dust. In the middle sits a tree, sagging with age and soft with rot. Sunken footprints mark the demons’ furtive venture into decrepit memory, and the creaking of floorboards with every step only tethers the growing nightmare closer to reality.

A photo frame crashes to the ground.

They deserve this.

Satan feels it the moment the spell concealing your room was broken. It had been his way of protecting your memory, ensuring that your sanctuary would only be accessible to those who made the effort to remember you. He cast it about a year after you had left the Devildom, after he realized that leaving your door in plain sight wasn’t doing you any favors.

Hidden away in an alcove at the back of the garden, curled up with a blanket and a thermos of hot tea, Satan slides a bookmark between the pages of his latest novel and leans his head back, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh.

Even this far away from the house, he can hear the cacophony of screams and shouts, objects being flung and shattered into pieces, a muted bang suggesting that a wall has just collapsed. The fallout comes as no surprise; waking up after living the past hundred years or so in a daze will do that to a person – or in this case, demons.

Although the sounds of fighting call to the rage bubbling within him, the vindictive thoughts of his brothers getting their just desserts cool it to a simmer. He knows he’ll have to face them eventually, but he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

“Meow?”

Emerald eyes blink open. There’s a faint rustle from the nearby bushes as a tiny Calico wanders out of the foliage, peering around the garden curiously. Upon spotting the blond demon, it perks up and makes a beeline for him.

“Hm? You’re not Callie. Are you new here, little one?” His mood considerably improved, Satan extends a hand towards the kitten. It skips the finger sniffing step and goes straight to headbutting his palm, begging for attention.

“You’re an affectionate one, aren’t you?” Satan caves immediately and scritches away with a delighted chuckle. He examines the markings on its tri-colored fur, wanting to recognize the friendly feline if it comes back in the future. The Calico is mostly white with patches of brown and black splashed over the back of its neck, near the base of its tail, just under the side of its ribs, and several other spots that seem to collectively resemble a familiar pattern…

Satan’s hand stills. He whispers your name, trembling with hope, and the kitten practically leaps into his arms, nuzzling his chin with a happy purr.

#writing #obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me lilith #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me solomon #obey me replaced mc au

895 notes · View notes

phantom-curve · 3 years

Text

find the strength, find the melody pt. 6

okay so I wasn’t originally going to include the entire scene in Lessa’s office but, once again, my words ran away from me. now you get this beast of a chapter. it’s the longest one yet, coming in at a whopping 4,383 words so think of it as an apology for letting my other fic take over for a sec and also taking like a million years to post this.

I started working on Luke’s POV because I am nothing if not a fan of jumping the gun, and his writing style is so different and living in his head is such an adorable journey of Julie Molina obsession. really excited for you to see some of the stuff that’s been going on for our sweet lil soft boy. also, if you notice the dialogue style changing a little bit in this/future chapters it’s so I can have the same scenes without a ton of repeated dialogue in Luke’s POV.

writer’s block anecdote of the day: I keep flipping Luke and Alex’s name in Luke’s POV because one of the main OCs in my novel is actually named Alex and has been since I started working on this novel a literal decade ago. oh and there is also an OC named Owen. someday I’ll learn to give my characters unique names, but not today!

taglist: @blue-hat-girl, @lwhoscribbles, @bluefyoto94, @5sosmukefan, @moonlightxnder, @leahthewonder, @kat-maybe-not, @lukewearingbeanies, @imastrugglingartist

Once they were close enough to risk running into other students, Julie dropped Luke’s hand. She made a point of ignoring the frown he gave her, using her now free hand to reach up and adjust her hat. Only, her hat wasn’t there. Her hands landed on loose, untamed curls instead and she immediately turned to Luke with a small amount of panic already building in her chest. He gave her a funny look, and then seemed to notice her hair and somehow understood completely. His hands reached up to lower hers. He let his grasp linger for just a moment before letting go, leaving her hands to dangle limply at her sides. Only his gaze held her in place.

“I never really liked that hat. Your hair is too pretty to cover up like that.”

He said it like a fact. The sky is blue, the sun is hot, your hair is too pretty to cover up. Julie felt a swell of emotions rise again, threatening to overwhelm her. But then he was off towards the front of the school throwing a very casual, “You coming?” over his shoulder at her. She raced to catch up, emotions beaten back for the time being.

They joined the surge of bodies filtering through the front doors. Alex and Reggie stood off to the side inside the entryway of the school. It was impossible to miss the tall blonde in his light pink sweatshirt standing next to the shorter boy in leather. Luke didn’t hesitate to weave his way over to them, but Julie hung back. She wasn’t really sure what was going on between them, wasn’t sure if she felt comfortable enough to just tag along behind him. She caught sight of Flynn’s hot pink beanie bouncing in the distance and let out a sigh of relief. She could separate from Luke here, talk to Flynn, get some perspective on this whole situation.

Luke glanced back at her then. She saw the question in his eyes, felt her heart race when he gave a little side nod like he was inviting her to join him. She swallowed and gave him a half-hearted smile before jerking her thumb over her shoulder in Flynn’s direction. He frowned, but she was already turning away. She pretended she didn’t hear him call her name, slipping into the crowd of students, letting it swallow her up so she could disappear from his sight. Eyes locked on Flynn’s back she moved farther away from the Sunset Curve boys. Flynn only jumped a little when Julie snuck up behind her.

“Jesus, Jules! You scared the shit out of me!”

Her best friend’s familiar voice washed over her like a comforting blanket. All at once, Julie was word vomiting the entire night.

“Flynn, oh my God. He had Mom’s song and he saved it for like, a whole year, and then he gave it to me yesterday, and holy shit I forgot how beautiful it is. And you’re not gonna believe this but I played, like I actually played the piano and sang, and it was like homecoming, it was like the biggest rush, like my mom was right there in the studio with me. And then, oh my god, now you’re really not gonna believe this, but oh my god, then Luke freaking Patterson showed up out of nowhere and he uh might have stayed on the pull-out couch, and then he uhm he made me breakfast this morning? And we walked here together?? He was like...doing this thing where his eyes were going all starry and soft and he was saying really sweet things and it was...a lot and I really don’t know what’s going on with that but uhm I’m kinda freaking out. Also, hey good morning, how are you?”

If Flynn’s mouth opened any wider Julie thought she might unhinge her jaw. In a sea of bustling students, it felt like they were in a bubble all their own. She anxiously fiddled with the bracelets on her wrists as she watched the gears turn behind her best friend’s eyes. After a full two minutes of silence, Flynn’s hand flew out to latch onto Julie’s bicep. Without a word she dragged her down the hallway and into an empty practice room. Flynn released her grip, Julie rubbing at her arm, jeez Flynn was strong!, while the other girl closed the door and flipped on the light that indicated the room was in use. She whirled around, her eyes drilling into Julie’s.

“You’re gonna start at the beginning of that whole mess of truth bombs and spill every last detail about exactly what happened with Luke ‘freaking’ Patterson. Right now. Starting with the bit about your mom’s song.”

Julie took a deep breath and slowly walked Flynn through the events of the last few days, from the moment she had run into Luke after her meeting with Ms. Harrison to when she ran away from him this morning as he was calling her name. Distantly, she was aware of the bell ringing, but it was only homeroom anyway. What did that matter when she was having an existential crisis? Flynn’s mouth only hung open a little bit by the time she was finished telling the story again. Julie felt her shoulders slump. What an emotional rollercoaster. Flynn was quiet for a long moment. Then, she smirked at Julie with a knowing look in her eyes.

“Hmph. Looks like my girl’s got a crush, and his name is Luke. I cannot believe you’ve been holding out on me like this!”

She was teasing, her tone light with a little bit of a mocking sing-song quality to it. But Julie could hear the undercurrent of worry running through her words. She had become quite adept at detecting that particular vocal quality in the last year. She sighed.

“Whatever. Can we focus on the more important revelation that I played the piano and sang again?”

Flynn, best friend that she was, gracefully allowed the subject change.

“Jules, that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you! How did you feel? Alive again?”

Julie laughed, the sound feeling easy and light as it left her chest.

“Yeah, actually, that’s exactly how I felt. It was...honestly, it felt magical. It really did feel like my mom was there with me. There was this sense of peace that just felt...”

She shivered, remembering the sensation of ghostly arms around her shoulders.

“I can’t really describe it. But it was like something just clicked, and I realized that the best way to remember my mom and honor her is through music. The music we made together and the music I’ll make in the future. Rose Molina’s musical legacy will live on in me, and that feels pretty special.”

She couldn’t keep the smile from her face or the happiness from her voice. Peace really had been found out in that studio last night. Julie felt more ready than ever to move out of the darkness she’d kept wrapped around her like a shield for the last year.

“That’s beautiful.”

Flynn pulled Julie into her arms, the two girls sharing a long hug. The bell rang, signaling the end of homeroom, before either girl could say anything more. They left the practice room together, splitting up when they reached their respective classroom doors. Julie swallowed thickly as she settled herself in the back of her Calc class. This was one of the classes she shared with Luke, although she had conveniently forgotten that fact until the moment she sat down at her desk. He appeared in the doorway within seconds, giving her no chance to properly prepare herself. His eyes lit up when he saw her, and he started to make a beeline for the desk next to hers before their teacher caught him.

“Patterson! You know the deal.”

Not even Luke’s best pout could win over Ms. May. She simply raised a brow and pointed at the seat he had been assigned at the front of the classroom. Julie let out a small sigh of relief. It was hard not to smile at Luke’s dramatics as he slumped over and slowly shuffled his way to his desk. He dropped into his seat with a loud huff, glancing over his shoulder at Julie with forlorn expression. She rolled her eyes, smothering her smirk behind her hand. The bell rang again, and he turned his attention to the front of the room as Ms. May called the class to order.

He didn’t stop sneaking looks back at her the entire class period though. It made her want to squirm in her seat every time she dared peek at him and caught him watching her in return. He would always give her one of those soft, sweet smiles and then turn back to his work. It was unsettling, especially when she thought of how he hadn’t paid much attention to her in this particular class before today. Although, now that she really thought about it, maybe he had. Julie had basically been living in a fog of grief for the last year. The school could have caught on fire and she probably wouldn’t have noticed it until her clothes were burning.

She was almost grateful when one of the front desk aides appeared in the door to their classroom. Kayla made direct eye contact with her before knocking on the door frame to get Ms. May’s attention.

“Julie Molina is needed in the office.”

A tense silence fell over the classroom. Every single student remembered the last time Julie had been called down to the office in the middle of a class. Even Ms. May’s eyes flickered with pity for a moment before she gave Julie a gentle smile and nod. Julie stood slowly, forcing herself to keep her breath even as she gathered her books and papers into her backpack. 22 pairs of eyes watched her slowly make her way to the front of the room. One pair burned hotter than the others. Julie met Luke’s eyes for the smallest fraction of a second. Just long enough to see the concern rise up in them. Then she was out the door, walking the uncomfortably familiar path to the front office.

“It’s Lessa. And I think your dad.”

Kayla’s quiet voice startled her. She looked to her left, surprised to find the other girl keeping pace with her. Julie had thought she would walk ahead or peel off to deliver other messages. Instead, she got a small but genuine smile.

“Look, I know things are weird because of the Carrie thing, but I just didn’t want you to freak out too much. Frankly, I think Lessa’s kinda a bitch to pull you out of class like that. She’s an idiot if she doesn’t remember...well anyway. It’s something school related, not like a family thing.”

Kayla briefly squeezed her bicep, almost like she wished she could give Julie a hug. Then she was off down a separate hallway, waving the stack of messages in her hand at Julie as a goodbye. Julie watched her go for a second, feeling off balance and surprisingly emotional. Kayla was a Dirty Candy girl. In the battle lines that had been drawn between Julie and Carrie, Kayla’s position was as obvious as Flynn’s. For all intents and purposes, she shouldn’t be looking out for Julie, and yet, she was anyway. Julie wondered how many small protective moments she had missed from her classmates in the last year. Maybe she hadn’t been quite as alone as she had always felt. She took a deep breath and finished the walk to the front office, a little more ready to face what was on the other side.

Knowing it was school related and that her dad had been called down sent a shiver of apprehension down her spine for a different reason. It had to be something about the music program. Not for the first time, Julie regretted keeping it from her dad for this long. She was out of time now. At least she could thank the universe for small favors. If it had been her Tía in this meeting, Julie’s life would be over. Her dad was more understanding. They would be able to get through this. Julie forced herself to square her shoulders and enter the office with more confidence than she felt. Her mom’s words echoed in her mind you can do it. It was all the strength she needed.

At least until the door to Principal Lessa’s office was closing behind her, and she was face-to-face with her heartbroken father.

“Julie. Take a seat, please.”

Lessa’s voice lacked its usual bite. She just sounded tired. Julie felt that down to her bones. She slipped into the seat next to her dad without a word.

“I’m going to get right to the point. Two of us,” her eyes narrowed slightly on Julie who shifted in her seat in response, “knew this meeting was coming. The other one of us has now been informed as to why it was called.”

The weight of her father’s stare was crushing her. Julie didn’t have to look to see the disappointment there. It was rolling off of him in tsunami sized waves. Lessa continued talking despite the uncomfortable tension growing in the air.

“Now. We have several options. As you both know, Los Feliz is at its core an arts academy. We ask that our students participate in at least one of the arts programs. Participate being the key word there. Julie, it’s clear that participation in our music department isn’t something you’re able to do right now. While we were able to offer you a grace period, we have other students applying for the position you aren’t using. It’s only fair to allow them the chance to participate if you won’t.”

Julie was not going to cry. Not here in front of Principal Lessa and her dad, trapped on school grounds where everyone would see her when she left. She bit the inside of her cheek as hard as she could, letting Lessa’s soft but firm voice wash over her without absorbing anything she was saying. She caught bits and pieces: Lessa offering her a spot in the less desirable subset of illustration in the fine arts department with a chance to reapply for the music department the following semester, her dad requesting information about the new program as well as copies of her transcripts in case they decided to move schools, Lessa’s voice softening as she apologized, her dad’s growing even softer as he thanked her for everything the school had done so far. Then the meeting was wrapping up, and her dad was shaking Lessa’s hand, and Julie was focusing on her backpack so she could get the hell out of there. She barely caught the sad smile Lessa gave her as she said, “Good luck, Julie” in that same goodbye tone Ms. Harrison had used on Monday. Julie had never been so desperate for her old hat to hide behind as she was in that moment.

She shuffled along behind her dad. It was obvious the school day was over for Julie. He was quiet as they made their way out of the office and into the empty hallway. Class had been dismissed while they were with Lessa. Julie was thankful there weren’t any other students around to witness her downfall. Her dad almost made it out of the building before rounding on her. Almost.

“I cannot believe you tried to hide this from me! I thought I raised you better than that, mija. You’re lucky your Aunt had a work meeting she couldn’t miss. Why didn’t you come to me?”

It was the overwhelming disappointment in her dad’s tone that did Julie in. She had never been able to stomach letting her parents down. If Ray’s voice was any indication, she may have reached the rock bottom of let downs.

“I’m sorry.”

She was. She truly was. She didn’t know why she had kept it from her dad except that if she had told him then she would have had to admit it was real. She hadn’t wanted to face that reality just yet.

“I just don’t understand, Julie. You still like music, right? Is it the school? We can find a different music program. You don’t have to stay here just because your mom loved it so much.”

Julie opened her mouth to argue that actually that was exactly why she had to stay here, but a different voice cut her off. An annoyingly familiar voice that had her heart racing and her palms sweating.

“Julie!”

She nearly groaned aloud. Never before in her life had Julie wished to disappear as much as she did right now. Just open a hole in the floor and jump right into it. The absolute last thing she needed right now was Lucas freaking Patterson getting in the middle of this dressing down. Hell, she didn’t even want him witnessing it let alone trying to get involved. She clenched her jaw, ignored her dad’s pointedly raised eyebrow, and turned on her heel to meet the teenage boy that suddenly seemed to be haunting her every step.

“Luke. Hi.”

She kept her voice flat, the go away clear in her tone. His steps faltered for a second, but she could tell by the way his shoulders bounced that he wasn’t going to be so easily deterred. She had run away from him this morning and been saved multiple times in Calc. He wasn’t going to let her avoid him anymore. He approached her and her dad with all the cool confidence a 17-year-old boy in a band could muster. Her mouth almost fell open when he bypassed her completely to stick his hand out towards Ray.

“Luke Patterson. You must be Mr. Molina. It’s very nice to meet you, sir.”

His smile was genuine and charming, his lyrical voice all too polite. Julie wanted to scream as she watched her dad fall for it. Could she not have one single embarrassing moment to herself anymore? Was she doomed to play out the moments she came off looking the worst in front of this cute boy for the rest of her life? Her dad’s eyes lit up as he shook Luke’s hand. Julie wished she could bash her head against something.

“Patterson? Mitch and Emily’s boy?”

“Yes, sir.”

Only Julie caught the way his smile tightened and his shoulders raised defensively at the mention of his parents.

“Wow, you’ve grown quite a bit since the last time I saw you! Good people, your parents.”

Julie rolled her eyes at the dad-ness of it all.

“I forgot you were in the music program with Julie...”

She couldn’t help but cringe as her dad’s words trailed off. That statement had been enough to remind him why he was here in the first place. He turned away from Luke to give her another heartbroken look. She hung her head to escape the censure behind his eyes.

“I am. Actually, that’s why I was trying to find Julie! She was late for rehearsal.”

Julie whipped her head up to glare at the boy still bobbing in front of them. He was trying to cover for her not knowing Lessa had blown that opportunity sky high not even 5 minutes ago. It was sweet in a misguided way, but it was also a painful reminder of all the things Luke had that she didn’t.

“He knows I got kicked out. You don’t have to lie for me.”

Her voice was sharp, and she was fully prepared for the kicked puppy look she was sure he would give her, but instead his smile only grew. His bouncing became impossibly springier, like gravity just didn’t apply to him. And then he winked, actually winked, at her.

“Awh, c’mon, Jules!”

His whine was just the right amount of playful, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Her heart did a weird flip in her chest.

“I know it was supposed to be a surprise, but the poor man is clearly suffering! We should let him in on our little secret.”

Julie’s glare intensified as she ignored the way the words our little secret hit the softest part of her heart. What the hell was he playing at? He winked again, something that should be outlawed given the way it made her stomach drop and knees weaken. Then he held up his hands in a half-hearted I give up gesture.

“Okay, okay. You don’t have to tell him about the plan to get you back into the music program if you don’t want to.”

If this were a cartoon, Julie was sure her eyes would have popped out of her skull completely at those words. As it were, she settled on doing everything she could to keep her jaw from dropping. She had absolutely no clue what he was going on about, but he clearly had some sort of agenda. There was a script to this encounter, she just hadn’t been given her lines. She saw her father shift out of the corner of her eye, arms raising to fold across his chest as he took in the scene unfolding between the two teenagers. Luke was still talking, apparently deciding to capitalize on Julie’s stunned silence.

“I just think it would be helpful if he knew about it. Then we wouldn’t have to sneak around so much. I know you wanted to have it be a big reveal, but we can still surprise your aunt!”

Her dad turned to her with a raised brow, confusion and the smallest seeds of hope growing behind his gaze.

“¿Mija?”

Julie wanted to punch a locker and also vomit. What the actual hell was Luke Patterson doing? She had no frame of reference for whatever game he was playing. No way of knowing if it was serious or some sort of prank. She looked away from her dad to meet Luke’s eyes. He gave her a small, pleading smile, silently begging her to trust him. His eyes became impossibly gentle and she saw that same boy from the studio last night and the kitchen this morning peeking out at her. Ultimately, it was that intimate reminder of his softer side that made her cave.

“It’s nothing, Papí. Just some hair-brained scheme Luke came up with.”

She raised her brow in a challenge, communicating with that one twitch that she wanted to see his endgame here. His face lit up like the 4th of July. She was sure if they had been alone he would have let out a victory whoop. He rocked back on his heels, hands in his pockets, biceps flexing in his best cool kid impersonation.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Molina. We’re getting just as much out of this as you are.”

She didn’t have time to snap back that she wasn’t sure she was getting anything out of whatever ‘this’ was before he was plowing ahead.

“See, my band and I lost our fourth member earlier this year, and we have our Junior Showcase coming up, but man, it’s been a serious struggle to find our sound without Bobby, and we really gotta nail this Showcase. It’s like the one where managers scout out who they really wanna pay attention to as a senior, so we gotta be the best.”

Julie saw where he was going with this before he actually got there, but it was too late to stop him. That was what she got for playing along with his stupid game in the first place.

“And see, I finally figured out that what we really need is someone like Julie to elevate us to that level. Your daughter is a freaking wrecking ball of talent, Mr. Molina. It took a lot of begging, but she finally agreed to play with us. There’s no way Lessa won’t put her back in the music program after we play together.”

His grin was a mile wide, pride shining from his pores. He was 100% sure of this plan, she could see it in the way he looked at her. Absolute blind faith in her. It was as flattering as it was terrifying.

“I see.”

Her dad’s voice was shockingly contemplative. Like he was actually considering supporting this crazy idea. He looked at Luke thoughtfully.

“Do Principal Lessa and Ms. Harrison know about this plan?”

Luke’s hand raised for one quick nervous scratch at the back of his neck. He gave her dad his most charming smile.

“Sometimes you’ve gotta go into ambush mode. Swing that wrecking ball of talent and smash some rules, eh?”

If it were any other parent, that line would have probably been the worst possible thing to say. But this was Ray Molina, whose first date with Rose had involved a small amount of breaking and entering as well as a large amount of running from cop cars and stealing kisses while hiding in alleyways. Rose had never met a rule worth following, and it was part of the reason Ray had fallen in love with her in the first place. Luke had sealed the deal without even really trying. Julie was doomed.

“I like it.”

Ray’s smile was almost as large as Luke’s. It was scary how similar they looked right now, enthusiasm shining in their eyes with an intensity that was borderline maniacal. There would be no getting out of this now.

“Why don’t you boys come over to the house after school? You can practice in our studio.”

Julie didn’t even get a chance to open her mouth before Luke was agreeing. She watched him shake her dad’s hand once again, some weird kind of bonding look passing between the two of them. Her dad wrapped a tight arm around her shoulder, and then turned them both towards the front doors again. Julie cast one final look at Luke over her shoulder, heart skipping a beat as he bit his lip and gave her yet another wink.

“See ya later, boss!”

Had her dad not been holding her up, Julie would have melted right into a puddle of mush. Yup, she was totally and completely doomed.

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rebelcap · 4 years

Text

We are not just friends —Part 8

Chris Evans x bi!latina!character (Sofia is a people of color, she's brown.)

Chris and Sofia meet when their best friends started dating, it all started at friends with loads of bumps on the road.

Warnings: drinking, smoking, drug use (weed), assault, Chris being Steve Rogers, commitment issues, my girl Sofia kinda messy, lots of fucking (eventually)

This is slow burn at its best, at least emotionally.

Series masterlist

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7

It's been a couple of days and Sofía finally had the time to Skype with Mandy.

“Works going great, today's been kind of long. Been interviewing a bunch of people to the assistant gig.” Sofía spoke to the computer resting on the middle of the bed, she was pointing it towards the mirror where Sofía was brushing her hair.

“That's awesome baby, don't work too hard though,” Mandy said eating an apple. “Where's Chris?”

“He had some meetings or something—” She shrugged looking back at Mandy who had her eyebrows up, lips puckering. she was waiting. “Okay, yes we did it, we had sex.”

She actually claps like a child. “I want details, bitch,” Mandy said and Sofía laugh

"I had never been fucked that deep on my life and I've been around the block,” Sofia said biting her lip. “And he's… dominant and tender. I don't know.” She waves a hand and shrugged.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Mandy said putting a hand on her chest. “It's like me with Luke, no one can fuck me as he fucks me. I totally get it—so, you guys dating now?”

“What? no.” Sofía shakes her head.

“You haven't talked about it yet?”

“A little, the other day after you helped him ambush me on the bar. But I don't know, I like him that's for sure and he likes me.”

“Well, that's a start—finally, it was like a fucking pregnancy with you two.” She laughs.

“But we're not dating, just… fucking, he's still my friend.” she shrugged

“And Chris is okay with it?”

“Why not? we were speaking that he had sex with his ex and regretted the whole thing, but I don't know, I'm convenient for him"

“And he told you that?”

“No, But—

“I don't think Chris, Chris I know thinks you're convenient.”

“But I am, I'm cool with that—I don't want anything else,” Sofía said, sitting cross-legged in front of the computer, now paying attention to her friend.

“But why not? Sof. he's not some idiot you've founded on tinder—”

“I've used tinder once!”

“That leads to the most lengthy relationship you've had—on your life!” Mandy said.

Sofía rolled her eyes. “yeah and that worked out so good, Tiffany leave me with fucking PTSD—And your point?”

“Is that I think Chris is the one you've been waiting for your whole life.” She speaks and Sofía frown. “I remember what we talked about when we were younger before shit went down—you know.”

“Yeah, I remember… I was seventeen and still a virgin. I didn't even realize that I liked women too.”

“Yeah, that doesn't matter—I mean I'm glad that you're out and proud not the point—but Isn't Chris all that you ever wanted in someone?”

“Why are you making a telenovela out of this?, I already told you—”

“I think he's great for you and you deserve great—I mean there's no men worthy of you but Chris is pretty close,” Mandy spoke as she walked on the apartment back in Boston. “I'm not telling you now, but maybe there's a future with him.”

“I don't know—how're things back there?” Sofia had abruptly change subjects and Mandy stares her through the computer.

“It's good, I miss you—”

“I miss you too, baby.”

“—no one cooks for me here and I had been back at home and mom and dad also miss you. And Ian has a crush on you.”

“Your baby bro?, He's eighteen!.” She raised her eyebrows.

“He's been asking about you a lot. When's Sofi coming?, Sofi this and Sofi that.” Mandy laughed. “It's kind of endearing.”

“Yes, he's cute maybe in a few—

“Shut the fuck up, no way in fucking hell your—Ewww!” Mandy screamed and shake her head making Sofía laugh.

“I'm fucking with you—” She smiled and her phone started ringing, it was Chris. “And speaking of.” Sofia smile showing her the phone.

“Oh, don't let me get in the way!” Mandy said and blow her a kiss and ended the call after saying goodbye.

“Hey!” She smiles letting herself fall on the bed.

“Hi baby, just gets home—I've been on the studio all day.” He said. He sounded tired, she could tell.

“You sound tired, have you eaten yet?”

“I am, dead tired.” He yawns over the phone.

“Not yet, I'm ordering something though—wanna come over? I might have a huge bag of weed.” He laughed.

“Hell yes.” She said laughing. “I'll bring some pizza, go take a shower and relax—I'll be there in a little bit,” Sofía said already getting out of bed.

“You're the best!, I'll leave the door unlocked, just get it.”

“Alright, see you on a bit.”

_____________

“Chris?” Sofia called, locking the door behind her as she walked to the empty-looking house. Dodger came running from the back to greet her. “Hey baby, where's daddy?” She asked him as he moves his tail all over. When she reached the living room he was sprawled on the couch, phone resting on his chest.

“Awh,” Sofia said putting the two pizzas on the coffee table and slide her backpack off and kneel beside him and kissed his beard. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

Chris's eyes fluffer open and his smile got to bashful that Sofia had to sigh deeply. He was so handsome, with those bright blue eyes.

“My sofi–” He spoke grabbing her from the waist and pulled her on top of him and slide his hand under her dress, sliding his hands up and down her ass.

“You tired, champ?”

“Not of this ass.” He nipped at her neck and then kissed her. “I'm hungry though, that pizza is getting me.” Chris swat at her ass and she laughs.

“Let's eat, uhm?”

Chris scooted her again and seat her beside him on the couch. They sat there as Sofia surf through Netflix trying to catch a movie.

“You do something tomorrow?” Chris asked taking another bite of his pizza.

“Nope, I mean nothing job-related.”

“Mm, I've got a birthday party. You interested?”

“Yes. free food, especially cake.” She quickly agreed, Chris snort. “who's the birthday?”

“A friend, you'll see.”

Sofía cranked her neck up from his shoulder and squinted his eyes at him. “Why you'll being all mysterious and shit?”

Chris laughed, taking a sip of his beer and shrugged.

“It's not Brad, isn't it?” She frowns.

“Why?”

“I don't like him very much.”

Chris frown, giving her one stare to elaborate on that, and Sofía sigh. “He cornered me on the kitchen and asked me if you and I were fucking, so he knows I'm off-limits. He asked me out and was kind of surprised when I said no.”

Chris pursed his lips and looked forward. “Fucking asshole. We're not really close, he's usually hanging with us, he's no longer welcome.”

Sofía bite her pizza and looked at him, not gonna lie she liked that… possessiveness on Chris even though she won't admit it. Leaving the half-eaten pizza there, she grabbed her beer and took a few gulps.

“You finish that?” She asked and Chris looked at her, throwing the pizza on the coffee table and grabbed the beer from her hand, and she giggles putting biting her nail.

“Sure as hell did.” He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her in, straddle him. Chris looked down at her bare legs as he caresses them, up and down, and then put both of his hands on her ass and squeeze it. Camila looked down and grabbed the joint Chris had previously rolled and a lighter.

“Want to?” She said putting the joint between her lips and Chris hummed at him.

Sofia light it up, throwing the lighter back at the table and took a deep drag, hold it for a moment, and put the joint on Chris's mouth.

“Fuck—” She looked up, blowing the smoke. “So good.”

“Yeah,” He blew the smoke, hand gripping her jaw, his fingers playing with her bottom lip and she opened her mouth and he slipped two fingers inside, closing her lips around them she sucked, tongue dragging up the bottom. Chris slide then out and wrap his fingers around her neck and pulled her in for a heated kiss “You've got no idea what you do to me.”

“I do,” She smiles, lazily, and press herself more against his clothed dick. “Feels so good.”

“Fuck, it does.” Chris closed his eyes, leaning his head against her chest as she started to move her hips, oh so slowly. Grabbing the joint from his fingers, she gave it another go, already feeling light and dazed.

“You're so fucking… cute,” She bit her lips while smiling cupping Chris's face. “Your eyes are so beautiful and blue and your lashes—I want them.”

Chris blushed and Sofía squeezes his face planting kisses on his forehead, his nose, and their lips.

“–Then,” She said. Putting the joint between her lips and grabbed the end of his shirt and took it off, revealing his toned body. “That. all of it—fuck. me.”

“I'm trying—” Chris chuckle, now he gave it the final drag and leave the joint on the ashtray on the table. Grabbing Sofia’s face, she opened her mouth and shotgun the smoke into her mouth.

“I'm so high, that's some good shit right there.” She hides her face on the creak of his neck and laughs, making him laugh.

“It is,” He hummed, closing his eyes as he concentrates on the butterfly kisses on his neck, she suddenly wrapped her arms around here and they just stayed there. Chris's hand kept caressing her back.

“Sofi?” He said, trying to look at her face but her soft breathing, arms going limp. Chris chuckle as he stands up, she still on his arms and carried her to the bed and tuck her in.

“Chris?” She said, barely audible as she hugged her own pillow.

“Yes? baby.” He said. Taking off his shirt and sat down on the bed to take off his shoes.

“You're my best friend, I love you.” She expressed, Chris craned his neck to see her. Eyes still closed, mouth slightly open.

“I love you too, Sof.”

“Cool.” She hummed. “I love Mandy more, she first.”

Chris let out a heartfelt laugh and slide in bed with her and scoot her to sleep on his chest and she accommodated quickly.

“Sorry about your boner.” She slurred, smiling a bit when Chris laughed again. “The fuck I've smoke?”

“It's a strand I use to relax, I've used it for a while now.”

“Relax me the fuck right, I can't open my eyes.” She gulped. “Imma drools on you, so you know.”

He laughs. “Droll me, I'll take it.”

Thank everyone, so much!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Tag list.

Tag list:

@letsdothemonstermash

@lunaticbarnes

@firstangeldragonranch

@lovepeacefood

@thegirlwithpaperheart

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x latina!#chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans fluff #Chris Evans x you #Chris Evans x y/n #Chris Evans fic #Chris Evans imagine #chris evans x ofc #chris evans x original female character

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skyvaikers · 4 years

Text

broken memories

summary: she was once held for 30 years in carbonate, lived through the first order and saw the end of the war, so she goes back to where her memories lie.

warnings: some serious angst, you may cry, and there isn’t a clear pairing in this.

note: i was listening to ‘lovely’ by billie eilish and khalid and was inspired. for the sake of this, the jedi temple is still standing on coruscant.

———

she was born at the same time anakin skywalker was, so she should be dead. she didn’t believe she’d ever get to see the end of the war. it had been raging for so long; part of her was thankful for being in carbonate for so long. maz kanata brought her into the new world three years ago, throwing the woman into a whole new era. she had been working to build her strength and be able to use her lightsabers again (which maz conveniently had). she trained herself, brought herself up from what she remembered.

she was now in her mid thirties, staring blankly at the celebration going on in front of her. it was indeed something to be celebrated, the end of the war. rey had defeated palpatine; y/n believed it was finally over. but, her heart ached still. she looked towards the ships, the force urging her she should go.

“y/n-hey are you alright?” poe dameron showed himself and she smiled softly.

“uh, yeah. just...in disbelief,” she assured him, which wasn’t the case. she nodded at him as he gave her a pat on the shoulder and left. she returned her longing gaze towards the ship, and before she knew it, her feet were moving.

“hey y/n! where are you going?” rey asked. y/n then thought for a moment; rey needed to see where it all began.

“come with me,” y/n turned to look at the young brunette.

“where are we going?” she quipped, a smile plastered on her face. “i’m honestly tired of adventures,” she added.

“coruscant.” y/n answered, causing rey’s bright expression to fade. it was once controlled by the enemy, but since the enemy was defeated, coruscant was no longer in anyone’s control.

“on the other hand, maybe i’m up for one more.”

———

as they came out of hyperspace, the planet in their view, y/n felt herself going into a trance. the purple hue of the planet, the cities no longer lit brightly like they used to be. it was darker, but it was still coruscant. it was where she grew up.

“this is where the jedi temple was, right?” rey asked.

“is.” y/n corrected, confusing rey.

“i beg your pardon?” she asked, her brow creasing in confusion.

“the jedi temple still is on coruscant; it never was completely destroyed. it has had many uses over the years, luke skywalker had rebuilt it until it was taken over once again.” y/n told her as they entered the atmosphere of the planet.

rey knew of y/n’s past, that she used to live on coruscant. she knew it hurt to come back, but it was so interesting to be in the place of the jedi.

they landed, still hidden from any remaining first order forces. y/n stepped off of the ship, memories flooding back to her; good and bad. she took hesitant steps, walking closer and closer to the main streets of coruscant. once the two women reached the streets, y/n turned to see the temple, in all of its damaged glory. for a moment, the jedi froze. her childhood, her life, was spent in those spires.

they kept walking, the people of coruscant staying in their homes with the fear of another invasion. y/n ran her hands across the buildings, feeling the residue from the battles and the oppression. the force was strong, despite the pain that resided. they walked closer and closer to the temple, and they kept walking until they came to the steps.

rey had never seen such a thing in her life. the vastness of the temple, the glory in it even amidst all of the destruction. rubble from previous battles lay around the base, but it was still the same temple y/n remembered.

“I became a padawan under master shaak ti here. I trained alongside anakin skywalker, but I eventually moved on to living on kamino afterward to train more intensely with my master.” y/n spoke as she stood at the stairs. rey could sense the pain, the heartache just talking about it.

“what...happened to your master?” rey asked carefully; she knew it was a sore spot, even after all of these years.

“while meditating, my master was killed by darth vader,” she replied sadly. y/n hadn’t witnessed it, but she remembered feeling it. she remembered freezing and not knowing what to do. she remembered trying her hardest not to sob as she continued to fight the men she once considered brothers.

rey was silent. she had no idea what to say to that. she had heard about the horrors of the clone war, she had no idea how she was going to comfort the jedi woman beside her.

y/n climbed the steps of the temple, coming to the doors. she placed her hand flat against the doors, feeling the force flow through the temple. she stood there a moment before taking it off.

“be careful, bounty hunters and scavengers like to hideout in places like this.” y/n warned as she opened the doors to the famous jedi temple.

the second she walked in, she was bombarded with memories. she stopped, closing her eyes and letting the memories come back to her. her and anakin running through the halls and getting scolded by master kenobi. her knighting ceremony.

rey took a look around, seeing the statutes that once stood so tall and grand. she could see what used to be elegant, she saw why this was considered a temple. she could feel the other jedi; if they weren’t with her before they were definitely with her now. she turned towards y/n, who was obviously reminiscing.

y/n opened her eyes and started walking again. she ran her hands over the fallen statues, her hand leaving a trail of marble. the red carpet beneath them was tattered and worn; many jedi walked these carpets.

“can you feel them?” y/n asked. rey nodded her head. she could definitely feel them. y/n closed her eyes again and she opened up her mind, letting her guard down.

“y/n...” came a voice, she snapped open her eyes, looking behind her. rey was still in awe, geeking out over the fact she was in the Jedi temple. she knew it was the force, it was someone in the force. she turned to face in front of her, tears slowly building in her eyes.

“i’m going to go down here, is that alright?” rey asked, pointing down a separate hallway.

“yeah, just be careful.” y/n answered. she was alone, the force surrounding her. she closed her eyes again, allowing herself to become even more vulnerable.

“y/n...” she heard again. she snapped open her eyes, and this time there was a figure in front of her. the figure was of her master, shaak ti. the togruta woman looked as powerful and kind as she did when she was alive. y/n felt hot tears fall down her face.

“master...” she whispered, her voice faltering. the force ghost of her master moved towards her. shaak ti raised a hand as if to wipe her tears away.

“the war has been won my padawan, you’ve done well,” she told y/n, which made her let out a sob.

“but we’ve lost so many,” she whimpered.

“you took rey under your wing. you trained her to be better than her heritage. you led her the way i led you.” she told y/n, who smiled weakly and nodded. “look at what came out of it, you’ve won what we couldn’t.” shaak ti added softly.

“sometimes i wish i would have died so i didn’t have to endure all these wars,” she admitted.

“there was a reason why you didn’t, the resistance needed you. they needed someone with your fire, with your undeniable loyalty.” she smiled, her features never creasing under the pressure.

“thank you, master. for being my teacher.” y/n bowed her head, her master doing the same.

“i will never leave you, my padawan. we will never leave you.” shaak ti spoke, and when y/n raised her head she could see her best friend anakin skywalker, his master obi-wan kenobi, and other fallen jedi.

“now, go. continue to carry the legacy, continue to train and bring back the jedi.” her master then disappeared, leaving y/n with a tear-stained face and silent sobs wracking her body. force, she missed them so much. she fell to her knees, tears rolling down her raw cheeks. rey came back, seeing her friend on the floor and crying. the ex-scavenger took her friend into her arms and they sat there on the tattered carpet, remembering the jedi of the past.

———

i legit cried while writing this and it was also an impulsive write? so please give it some love? i needed to get it out before i go to my other request haha. please enjoy and tell me your thoughts :,)

#star wars imagines #star wars imagine #star wars #music inspired art

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omnivorousshipper · 5 years

Text

Shobbs- Shovel Talks: Part 3

Hello everyone! Here’s the latest chapter of Shovel Talks! I’m super happy everyone has loved it so much. This would have been the last part, but my mind decided it would have been a good thing to add an epilogue as well. So there will be a part 4 some time. This is also on my AO3: Omnivorous_Reader.

I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Deckard really is the worst at giving Luke the Shovel Talk. But his family isn’t.

Part One: Hattie

Part Two: Owen

Final Part: Epilogue (Or Deckard’s Revenge)

Magdalene

“Bye Dad!”

“Have fun, sweetie!” Luke Hobbs called back as he watched the front door being slammed shut, and leaving him completely alone. Cocking his head to the side, he stared for a moment, still not sure what had just happened.

For the last few weeks, Owen and Hattie had been staying in Los Angeles, both giving loose reasons as to why they were there. Luke had been able to see through the pair’s bullshit, but Deckard had just laughed at Luke’s concerns.

“They always do this,” Deckard sighed and shook his head. “Every time I get with someone, those two freak out and try to scare them away. Just ignore them. They’re mostly harmless.”

Luke did not particularly like the playful wink Deckard had thrown at him after that last comment, but he decided to take it in stride. He did not say anything as he noticed the two almost became a natural occurrence in the Hobbs home.

It had started with Sam asking them to stay for the weekly Hobbs’ movie night. Luke still could not stop laughing at the look of horror that crossed Hattie’s face. Apparently she was not as good as her brothers when it came to children, and she had immediately started to panic when the thought of sitting through a children’s movie was mentioned. Luckily, Sam had chosen Moana, and Hattie had visibly relaxed.

Since then, Sam would invite “Uncle Owen” and “Aunt Hattie” to help her with homework, to practice soccer, or anything else she could think of. It was obvious that the younger Shaw siblings adored Sam just as much as their older sibling, and that they were also just as much wrapped around her little finger as Deckard was. Luke had been happy to have another two people in Sam’s life, but he had put his foot down the third time Owen had let her skip school.

Slowly, the small branch of the Hobbs family had fused with the Shaw family, giving Sam an even bigger support group, and Luke two more annoying younger siblings. And even though it had taken time for him to adjust- specifically to Owen- Luke had to admit he was glad they were in his life now. But that did not mean he did not get suspicious once in awhile. Like now.

For the last two weeks, he would walk into a room and see the two Shaws with their heads together and whispering. Once they noticed him, they would whip around to look at him and say nothing until he left the room. Again, Deckard just shrugged and told him not to worry.

“They’re probably plannin’ a heist that they don’t want you knowing about.” Even with that non-reassurance, Luke did not let his paranoia go away and watched the two closely. So, he knew immediately they were planning something big when they had asked Sam if she wanted to go to the zoo. Of course, she had accepted. Luke was not surprised by this, but he was extremely surprised when they begged Deckard to go with them. And then started to try and convince Luke to stay home.

“Come on, Luke. You just got back from a mission, do you really want to go out and about now?” Hattie asked, looking innocent.

“Yes,” he had responded flatly.

“She has a point, She-hulk. You just came back from Korea, you shouldn’t be runnin’ about,” Deckard piped up. Luke had raised his eyebrows in surprise, but the look Deckard was sending him was real concern, unlike the faux expression Hattie was sending him. So, Luke had conceded, and let the four go without him.

And out the door they went, leaving Luke to just stare after them, wondering when the other shoe was going to drop. Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Luke went to the living room, hoping to catch up on a few football games he had missed. Dropping onto the couch, Luke got comfortable and put his feet up on the coffee table.

Maybe Hattie and Owen were actually concerned about his health. Or they just wanted to keep Deckard’s attention on them. Or they were planning to convince Sam to change her name to Shaw. Either way, Luke was happy to have the rest of the afternoon to himself, just to watch mindless television and not have to deal with any other human being for the next few hours.

Turning on the TV, Luke leaned back into the couch and rested his arms along its back. I’m definitely going to enjoy today, he thought, letting a lazy smile spread across his face.

That was until the window on his right exploded into a million shards of glass and sprayed across the whole living room. Luke let out a surprised shout and jumped off the couch, as a canister of tear gas landed in the middle of the room. Smoke started to fill the room, causing Luke to start coughing and eyes to water. Struggling to move around the furniture and get away from the smoke, Luke heard several more crashes from around the house.

Before he knew it, there were several bodies surrounding him. Luke could only see blurred figures as he tried to fight back and swung his arm wildly. He cursed when his punch met thin air. He could feel hands on him, trying to push him to the ground, but he thrashed out of their hold and was able to grab one of the intruders around the waist. Pulling them down, Luke pulled his arm back, ready to pummel the intruder. However, just as his fist was about to connect, pain exploded through his skull and everything went black.

~~~

Slowly, consciousness started to come back, along with a rhythmic pounding in his head. Luke’s body felt heavy and sluggish as he tried to blink his eyes and try to look around. When the darkness refused to recede, he shook his head slightly to help clear his sight. That’s when he felt the cloth of the bag on his head softly brush against his skin, and causing him to jerk his whole body.

All over Luke’s body, he could feel heavy, thick ropes holding him in place on the sturdy, steel chair he was sitting in. It felt like a large amount of the rope was criss-crossed over his chest, secure and forcing him to calm his breathing, unless he wanted the mass of rope digging in every time he took a breath.

Taking several slow breaths, Luke gathered his thoughts and tried to assess the situation. Clearly, he had been kidnapped from his home. Whoever had him knew his abilities and had taken them into consideration and knew perfectly well how to counter them. What Luke did not know was who had taken him, or why. Racking his mind, Luke could think of dozens of people who would want revenge, but not many who could actually pull it off.

And then it hit him. There were two people who he nearly saw daily that could have pulled this kind of stunt off. Who had been sneaking around the last two weeks, and were conveniently out with their big brother and had a perfect alibi.

“All right, you assholes. I get it- you don’t like me dating your big bro! But guess what? We’re not going to split, no matter what you do! You can threaten, beat, stab me all you want, but I’m not going to break up with him just because we have some kind of beef. So, if you untying me right this second, I might even consider not beating your asses too badly!”

Luke’s had started off with him yelling, but by the time he was done, he was growling his threats, completely done with the two younger Shaw siblings. He waited a minute, hoping to feel his bindings loosen, but nothing happened. Jerking in the chair, and not being able to move it an inch, Luke let out a vicious snarl.

“If you two don’t get your asses moving in the next three seconds, I will make sure that not even Deckard can recognize your faces. Because if I’m not out of this bullshit soon, I will crush your heads in so far, you won’t be able to tell your mouth from you asshole,” Luke ground out, patience completely gone. “And once I’ve done that, I’ll celebrate by having rough, extremely flexible sex with your brother, just like we have every night. And I’ll take him over, and over, and over, until he can’t even remember anything except the feeling of my dick. And even if you two somehow don’t get pummeled by my fists today, I’ll still get down and dirty with your big bro because he loves me and that’s not going to change anytime soon.”

Letting out a breath, Luke glared at the blackness still encompassing his vision. He was ready to start thrashing and fighting, but the bag over his head was swiftly removed and he was blinded by a harsh light. Blinking, Luke could see that he was in a big, empty room, with only one bare light above his head, the rest of the room shrouded in shadows. Squinting, Luke started at the figure sitting across from him in a chair that must have been the partner to the one he was in. His eyes slowly adjusted and he was finally able to see who was probably the one who kidnapped him.

“Well, while it’s not my main concern, I am glad to hear Dex has a very vigorous sex life,” Magdalene Shaw chuckled, taking a sip of her tea.

Luke could feel his jaw drop by several inches. The matriarchal Shaw was sitting with one leg crossed over the other, one hand resting on the chair’s armrest, and the other delicately holding an expensive tea cup to her lips. She was smirking back at him, waiting for his mind to reboot. She raised her eyebrow at him.

“While I don’t doubt Oh and Hat could pull this off, I was hoping you’d give me a little credit. Who do you think encouraged my children to gain the skills to take men like you down?”

Shaking himself, Luke snapped his mouth shut and could only stare. He had heard from the Shaw siblings and even Dom Toretto that Queenie Shaw was not someone you pissed off. And it seemed like he had a front row seat to just how dangerous she could be.

“Cat got your tongue, love?” She sneered.

“Not particularly. Just realizing why all your kids are bat shit insane,” Luke said, side-eyeing the woman across from him. Luke honestly had been expecting some kind of retribution for that comment, but instead, Magdalene just laughed at him, her eyes crinkling in surprise and laughter.

“My, not what I was expecting from you, Agent Hobbs,” she gave out one last chuckle, her voice suddenly turning icy. “And here I thought you’d be down licking my shoes, begging my forgiveness for the comments about my son.”

Luke could only cringe. “Didn’t mean to say those things in front of you, Ma’am. I thought it had been Owen and Hattie. I was just trying to scare them.”

“Then I think you should give up on that,” she said nonchalantly. “I doubt any of my children would even find you a sliver of indimidatin’, love.”

“You really know how to butter a man up, don’t you,” Luke responded, his voice extremely dry.

“Oh yes, dear. How do you think I kept my husband around for so long?” She said, giving him a wink. One that reminded him of the ones Deckard would send him when the Brit shared an inside joke with his siblings, one that Luke did not understand. He was not sure if he liked the eerily similar action between son and mother.

“Look,” Luke started. “Would you mind getting your boys hiding in the corner there to cut these ropes? It’s a bit odd to be talking to you tied up, Ma’am.”

“Ah, no can do, love. Those stay on,” she said, smirking and took another sip of tea. “I rather like having my men at a disadvantage. No matter what I’m doing with them at the moment.”

Luke tried to hide the look of horror and disgust that took over his face, but by the laugh the matriarchal Shaw gave, he was not very successful. “Ma’am please. If you brought me here to threaten me about Deckard, could you hurry it up? I would like to get back to enjoying my afternoon.”

“Well, bugger me then-”

Luke made a choking noise.

“I guess we’ll just have to move on to the boring part then,” she sighed and stood up. She made a signal to someone who Luke assumed was behind him, because the next thing he knew, there was a thick wire digging into his throat. He desperately tried to shake the person off, but no matter how much or which way he jerked his head, the wire kept digging in and cut off his air. Opening and closing his fists, Luke tried to flex his muscles to break the ropes, but nothing worked. He was completely, and utterly stuck. Gasping for air, Luke could only stare ahead at Magdalene, as she just stood in front of him, delicately holding her tea cup and smirking down at him.

“Now, I’m sure Oh and Hat already gave you the typical spiel, but let’s just make sure it sticks in that big, thick head of yours.”

Luke tried baring his teeth at her, but it felt ineffective as he could feel his face straining as he still kept trying to alleviate the pressure on his neck. He could feel himself becoming lightheaded, but that did not seem to deter the woman in front of him. She roughly grabbed his face, making sure he stared into her eyes.

“If you ever lay a hand on my boy, I’ll make sure that you never see daylight again. The last thing you’ll ever feel is the weight of a hundred thousand kilos of shite crushing you to death. Or maybe, I’ll have me boys here crush your head in so hard, you won’t be able to tell your mouth from your arsehole. So, are we understood?”

Black spots were slowly encompassing Luke’s eyesight as he tried to stay awake. Magdalene gave his head a small shake, demanding an answer. Luke gave a small, shaky nod.

“Good.” She smiled at him. Suddenly, the wire was gone from Luke’s neck and he began to gulp down air. Patting his face, Magdalene continued. “Because I have several rings already picked out that Deckard will love.”

Luke lifted his head up from where he had let it drop in exhaustion, and just stared at the older woman, still trying to catch his breath. Weakly, he asked. “What?”

“For the wedding, of course, love!” She smiled down on him. “Welcome to the family, Luke.”

The smiling, insane face of Magdalene Shaw was the last thing Luke saw before pain exploded in Luke’s head and everything went black again.

~~~

Blinking slowly, Luke woke up to the setting sun softly shining on him from where he was stretched out on his couch. What happened, he thought and slowly sat up. Looking around, he could see that the window in the living room was perfectly intact, and there was not a single piece of glass on the floor. And the TV had turned itself off because of inactivity.

Carefully standing up, Luke started to make his way around the house. Nothing seemed out of place, even though Luke could have sworn that he had heard other crashes when Magdalene’s men had taken him. Entering the bathroom, Luke examined his neck in the mirror, but there was nothing. No mark, no bruises to show the abuse it had taken probably a couple hours before.

“That crafty bitch,” Luke mumbled to himself and let out a near silent chuckle. He could not wait to see what else she had in store for the future.

Hearing the front door opening, Luke left the bathroom to see the three Shaw siblings and Sam coming into the house. Deckard was leading the group, with a sleeping Sam resting on one of his hips, her arms wrapped around his neck. Behind him were Hattie and Owen, who closed the door softly as not to wake Sam up.

All four were sporting different headbands that showed off the ears of various animals. Sam was wearing tiger ears, Owen had black bear, Hattie had snow leopard, and Luke was not absolutely sure, but it looked like Deckard had panda ears.

“Well, aren’t all you adorable,” Luke whispered as Deckard walked towards him. Luke gave him a soft smile as he saw Sam’s eyes flutter open.

“Hi Dad,” she yawned and snuggled closer to Deckard.

“Hey there, sweetie. Did you have fun?” He brushed her hair back and kissed her forehead.

“Yeah,” she giggled softly.

“How ‘bout you tell him all about it tomorrow, yeah? You need to go to bed, love” Deckard whispered down to Sam.

“Ok,” she mumbled into his shirt, already half asleep. Sharing a smile with Luke, Deckard moved past him and towards Sam’s bedroom. Luke watched them go and waited until Deckard disappeared from view before he whipped back around to glare at the other two Shaws.

“Did you have fun today, Luke?’ Hattie asked, giving him a toothy grin.

“Very funny. Did you help her plan that whole thing?” Luke demanded steely.

“Don’t know what you mean, mate.” Owen smirked.

“Oh, don’t you dare start that bullshit with me, boy. While your guys’s mom is a very capable woman, I don’t think she could have timed it that perfectly,” Luke said, extremely irritated.

“I didn’t think you’d be so paranoid. We were at the zoo with Deckard and Sammy the whole day, you know that,” Hattie said, her impish look not diminishing at all. Owen let out a little snicker next to her. Opening his mouth to let the two siblings have it, Luke was instead interrupted by Deckard.

“Oi, Sam wants to thank you two for today,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of Sam’s room. Both Hattie and Owen gave him twin smirks as they brushed by him and into the bedroom.

“What was that about?” Deckard asked, giving Luke a confused look.

“Nothing. They were just showing off their new ears,” Luke said and moved toward Deckard and wrapped an arm around the smaller man’s waist and let the other one stroke the artificial ears Deckard was wearing. “Speaking of which, are these supposed to be a panda’s?”

“No, they’re a lemur’s,” Deckard huffed. “We let Sammy pick them out. And apparently she thought I would be a perfect lemur.”

“I can definitely see it,” Luke commented, adjusting the ears to sit better on Deckard’s head. “You’re just as tricky as one, equally as fast, and you’re about the same size, too.”

“You dick,” Deckard laughed, lightly punching Luke’s arm.

“And just as adorable,” Luke said, waggling his eyebrows at Deckard, who let out a snort. “How about you and me act like animals and get wild tonight?”

The smaller man just stared at Luke, before his face almost split in half with the smile he flashed Luke. “That is by far the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard.”

“But it worked, didn’t it?” Luke smiled back.

“I can’t believe that it did.” Deckard grabbed the back of Luke’s neck, pulling him down to let the bigger man ravage his mouth. They stay connected for some time, barely letting each other have any air before they went back at it. But, finally, Luke pulled back to stare at Deckard, whose face was a nice pink.

“Come on, Princess, let’s get wild,” he whispered against Deckard’s lips. Deckard gave out another amused snort before leading the way to their bedroom. The siblings might have not actually heard his threat earlier, but he was definitely going to deliver on it. Because their room was right up against the wall Luke and Deckard’s bed was facing. Letting a small smirk on his face, Luke let the promise of tonight purge any thoughts of manipulative mother-in-laws and annoying little siblings.

#shobbs #deckard shaw #luke hobbs #hobbs and shaw #deckard shaw x luke hobbs #owen shaw #hattie shaw #Samantha Hobbs #magdalene shaw #fanfic

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jflashandclash · 4 years

Text

Tales From Mount Othrys

Ajax: Fidget Spinners XII

“Can we promise me one thing? One thing for Christmas and my birthday? Screw video games. Screw a new slingshot. Screw an army of squirrels to help me spread havoc. Can we just agree no more dismembered limbs?” Pax asked. He currently held a makeshift bag that contained four, and that was four too many. The girl he was half-carrying, half-dragging was missing one, and didn’t appreciate when he joked that they try to attach one of Prometheus’ to her stump.

While Pax was up, discovering the riddle of how do you solve a riddle or crossword puzzle without a key—you cut around it—Lou Ellen had broken into a fever. The blackness around her stump had expanded. She babbled now and again, about Alabaster, about her real parents—depressing stories that fell into the category of things he did not need right now—and how bad she was at magic.

Axel couldn’t help them. He stumbled forward with the world’s least convenient backpack. They had taken pieces of their pants to tourniquet what was left of Prometheus’ wrists and ankles. The titan stopped bleeding quickly, but that didn’t make him any less nightmare-inducing. He managed to shrink to normal-human size. If Pax had to guess though, his brother was going to collapse soon. Giving deities piggyback rides: not advisable after dragging some dude out of the River Styx, running from Hades, falling into a mass of cotton balls, and fighting a massive eagle.

“There they are!”

The call came from behind. It was female and sounded angry.

Axel and Pax had been deliriously stumbling for about ten minutes. Lou Ellen was the one who knew the layout of Tartarus, and she’d been reduced to incoherent jabbering. Pax felt so parched, he couldn’t make jokes. That was the real travesty.

The agreement was to head for the flaming river. The river had sustained them. Prometheus advised that he could regenerate his limbs quicker if bathed in the river. Fire=regeneration didn’t make sense to Pax, but he wasn’t a lizard, unfortunately. He didn’t know how regeneration worked.

“Ajax, go,” Axel said at the scuffle of movement behind them. He weakly dropped a hand to the sword in his belt.

Knowing their luck, it was a Fury that had come to take out Hades’ vengeance for calling his helm stupid. Hades couldn’t hold a grudge about it for that long, right? Or maybe it was some rogue monster, here to feast on the tiny demigods—

Pax had been struggling to keep his feet shuffling one after the other. The idea that “go” could mean anything more than “keep at the exact same slow pace” made him attempt a laugh. Instead of laughter, he coughed on the noxious air.

Something pulled Lou Ellen from his back.

Pax tried to shriek.

Just because they looked like carrion didn’t mean they were carrion yet. He’d admit the likelihood of it happening soon, but he was still standing. Tartarus vultures were cheaters!

Although he was so exhausted that he’d be willing to bunk with one of the cannibal tribes they’d aligned with—a shocking number of those in Greek society, supposedly all liking a midnight snack to be close at hand—Pax felt a renewed surge of delirious fight. He would not let someone take Lou Ellen—

Pax flung an arm back, expecting to be just in time to grab Lou Ellen’s ankle as a Fury skylifted her.

That’s when he realized the figure had been talking to her. “Idiots! Complete and total idiots! I ought to have turned you into pigs—cows—and diced you into an experiment—”

The strength went out of Pax’s limbs. He felt himself falling sideways and didn’t care.

All he cared about in this red and black wasteland were those two green orbs: a symbol of hope, of growth, of future ass-kickings for convincing Lou Ellen to come down here.

Alabaster managed to snag Pax’s arm before he smacked into the ground. A second later, Pax slumped onto it with Alabaster kneeling beside him. The Witch Boy had Lou Ellen in his arms, pressing a mostly blackened hand to her mostly blackened stump. His mouth moved rapidly in some Latin chant that Pax couldn’t keep up with, though, he managed a hysterical, “Ave Maria,” to make himself feel like he had helped.

Lou Ellen’s hand glowed the same shade of green as their eyes.

Then she thrashed and screamed.

“Jack! Get over here!” Alabaster hissed.

A calming song swept over Pax like a security blanket. A flare of sweat-slicked red hair appeared over Alabaster’s shoulder. Pax wanted to cry in relief, but his body didn’t have the extra moisture to make tears.

“Ajax! My boy!” Jack’s voice was raspy, and, when he began to sing, “Let faith arise, in spite of what I see—” he sounded less like his typical angelic choir and more like a hellish rock star.

Pax’s caretaker dropped to his knees alongside Alabaster, dragging Pax into his lap. This gave Pax a good line of view to see Lou Ellen’s gangrened arm. The limb was attached and Alabaster frantically grappled to keep Lou Ellen from clawing at it.

Jack’s voice trembled into a song much more desperate, much more eerie, “See my eyes I can hardly see? See me stand? I can hardly walk. I believe you can make me whole. See my tongue? I can hardly talk. See my skin? I’m a mass of blood—”[1]

The soothing sensation of Jack’s power cooled blisters and bruises Pax didn’t even know he had. A fever ebbed from his skin.

As Pax had once seen Jack heal burns, the child of Apollo peeled off a layer of skin just above his wiry bracelet. “See my legs, I can hardly stand. I believe you can make me well—” He rubbed his thumb against Lou Ellen’s wrist, peeling away her dead skin.

Alabaster wrangled to keep her still. “Lelly, you are already grounded—if you keep thrashing like this, I’ll ban you from playing any music in the laboratory other than opera or Tchaikovsky—” The threats sounded near tears. Alabaster must not have been sure if they were too late to save her hand.

When Jack pressed his strand of removed skin to Lou Ellen’s raw not-skin, she squealed.

“Water from Phlegethon,” Jack requested and lifted a hand behind him, like a surgeon asking for a scalpel.

Another set of hands placed a bucket in Jack’s hands. The weight was such that Jack almost fell over. The set of hands must have realized this and lunged to help Jack set the bucket between Alabaster and Jack. Flames licked over the sides.

Jack gently pushed Lou Ellen’s hand into the fires.

She shrieked, kicked, and fought against Alabaster’s hold.

“This had better work, Flash!” Alabaster snarled.

“Augh, isn’t that our drinking fire—er—water? I guess that’s auto-sanitation if it’s constantly burning germs away,” said the voice attached to the hands.

Pax was unused to the humor in the voice. That couldn’t be who he thought it was.

Before he could check, Lou Ellen’s hand jerked out of the bucket. Her fingers were twitching. The skin around her wrist did not look pretty—well, “skin”—and she would not be a hand model in Witch’s Weekly, but her hand appeared to have successfully reattached.

With that, Lou Ellen’s eyes rolled up in her head and she collapsed into her brother’s arms.

Alabaster exhaled heavily. Throughout their travels, much of Lou Ellen’s hair had escaped her ponytail and clung to her face. He gently pushed strands back into her hairline. “Lelly, idiotic, thoughtless—” he whispered.

“You should use all your fancy words to spell out her name. It would be more of a challenge,” Pax said, his voice cracking from lack of drink.

Alabaster glanced up. The typical coldness in his eyes melted. They shifted to Pax’s caretaker. “Thank you, Flash.” Expressing the gratitude seemed to physically hurt Alabaster.

Now that Lou Ellen’s hand was taken care of, Jack turned his full attention to Pax. “Boy,” Jack said, his voice hoarse, “Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you’re in? Torrington and I have been discussing how to punish you and Lou Ellen—we were so worried. No Reese’s Sticks for a month!”

“That is not all we agreed to,” Alabaster said, shooting Jack a look.

Jack brushed him off. He took Pax’s face between his hands, seeming to check Pax’s eye dilation by waving a hand over each eye in turn. “How are you doing? Are you hurt? What were you thinking!”

The last question went more over his shoulder, to where Axel must have been standing. “Of course, Ajax would come after you! You two are in SO much trouble!” Jack continued. His words cracked and crackled with dehydration. He scooped a handful of flaming water from the bucket and shoved it into Pax’s mouth.

Now that Jack’s song had healed most of Pax’s aches and bruises and the river’s water had…. “soothed” him, Pax realized how tired, hungry, and thirsty he was. By this point, all he wanted was to curl up aboard the Princess Andromeda with the hell hound puppies.

They no longer had the timer of Lou Ellen’s magic-tricked wrist, but he didn’t know how they were going to get back. That didn’t seem to matter. Pax knew, with Jack, Alabaster, and Axel together, they could keep him and Lou Ellen safe. Just looking at Alabaster’s green eyes and Jack’s flash of red hair eased him.

Hadn’t the person who shouted at them been a girl?

Pax rolled in Jack’s lap, keeping as tightly burrowed and weasel-like as possible, to see who stood by Axel.

One of them reached over to pick up the bucket.

He was a blonde guy with a military cut. Pax blinked, wondering if someone has sucked the dude’s insides out and replaced them with someone else. In the past, Pax has become accustomed to Luke’s rigid posture, constant irritation, and scowl. This Luke looked… younger. One of his hips jutted out and he had a hand on it. The other one swung the bucket back and forth. He looked skeptical. The expression made Pax realize that Luke may have always found the world annoying; but, once upon a time, Luke had been able make jokes about the annoyance.

“Alright, I give up,” Luke said. “Who are these guys?” He gestured with the bucket between Pax, Lou Ellen, Axel, and Prometheus.

Axel must have sat down during Jack and Alabaster’s panic. The titan sat beside him.

Above them stood a familiar empousa, the one who must have shouted. In the above world, Pax had seen her cover up some of her demonic features. Down here, her hair flickered a fiery red. She fit in so well, she could have been a real estate agent.

She laughed airily and went to sling an arm around Luke’s shoulder.

He ducked out and away from her, looking uncomfortable.

“Luke,” she chided. “These are more of your subjects.”

“Yea, okay,” Luke grumbled.

Prometheus tilted his head to one side at the use of “subject,” glancing Luke over from nasty facial scar to sneaker. “Kronos?” Prometheus asked slowly. His grey eyes seemed to bore into their leader.

“That’s the story,” Luke said, shooting Alabaster and Jack a suspicious look.

“We had to splash some of Lethe’s water into his face,” Alabaster said, sounding exhausted.

Prometheus chuckled softly. “Ah, splashing a demigod that once feared monsters with Lethe water while surrounded by monsters. You didn’t think that one through, did you?”

Alabaster glared. “We were running out of time—” His green eyes flicked from Lou Ellen to the titan. His jaw dropped. “Did you guys cut off Prometheus’ limbs?!” His annoyed hiss went to a horrified shriek.

Pax and Axel looked at each other. Axel shrugged. “We were running out of time.”

Prometheus gave a goodhearted shrug. “They brought them along, just in case they didn’t start to grow back naturally, like my spleen does.”

“A titan’s limbs..?” Jack mused. He cradled Pax up against his chest, so Pax could hear the Energizer-bunny heartbeat inside. “I might be able to help you grow those back after a few gallons of peppermint tea, honey, and licorice root.”

His voice was scratchy and hoarse. Pax wondered what had done the worst number on it: the hours of singing to keep Luke alive, the friendly volcano-like atmosphere, or the times Jack shrieked when something scared him.

“I stole some pink dye from Alabaster’s workroom,” Pax whispered, “We can use it to make your tea extra flameboyant, in case you end up missing this vacation.” It was a bad joke and completely off the mark, but Pax felt like he had to say something.

Jack ruffled his hair appreciatively. “Once we get top side, I plan to never think of this place again. We can heal Mr. Prometheus and get that harlot away from Luke.” Jack’s bright eyes narrowed to glare at Kelly.

Kelly touched Luke’s hair and pouted. “I just want to remind Luke how close we were before…”

Luke flinched, but didn’t pull away this time. His eyes flicked up and down Kelly’s figure with boyish interest. Pax had to wonder how old Luke thought he was right now.

“You weren’t that close!” Jack snapped, sitting up. Pax would have slipped out of his lap if Jack hadn’t scrambled to grab him.

Kelly rolled her eyes. “You’re just jealous.”

Alabaster snorted. “Yep, and Luke and I were best friends.”

Pax saw a beautiful opportunity that he couldn’t miss. “And you promised me that you’d give me a pony.” A weak request, but Pax suspected, “A truckload of Reese’s” would garner suspicion.

Luke’s blue gaze narrowed further. “I doubt both those things.”

“We’re not friends,” Alabaster said. His lips twitched. “But, you did promise Pax a pony.”

If Pax wasn’t already huddled up with Jack and it wouldn’t require knocking Lou Ellen to the ground, Pax would have hugged Alabaster.

Axel gave a heavy sigh. “Don’t get him a pony.”

Luke put his hands up for silence, seeming to realize he was in control, even if he wasn’t accustomed to it anymore. His fingers shook with the insecurity. He frowned thoughtfully to the side. “I wish Thalia was here,” he mumbled more to himself. “She would know what to do.”

Kelly huffed, removing her hand from Luke to fold her arms. “You don’t need her. You’re stronger than she is.”

Luke gave Kelly an incredulous look. He shook his head. “Okay, we found these… three, following the magic tethering that hand.” He pointed to where Lou Ellen was curled up in Alabaster’s arms. The Witch Boy rose to his feet, lifting his little sister with him.

Limbs that are magically attached from a distance. Gross.

“How are we getting out of Tartarus? I’m not really fond of staying in monster-infested territory,” Luke said. He shot a meaningful glance to Kelly. “No offense.”

“Oh, I can’t wait until we board the ship,” Alabaster said. His lip twitch shifted into a malicious grin. “He’s in for such a rude awakening.”

“Luke,” Kelly chided. “You like monsters.”

Luke self-consciously reached to his back, grasping at nothing. Pax remembered Axel saying that Luke once used a golfing club to fight off monsters. Pax tried to picture that: their overbearing overlord riding valiantly into battle with a golf club. He choked back a laugh.

“Besides,” Kelly continued, checking her sharpened nails, “I am your ticket out of here. Climbing out of Tartarus? That’s like a typical Monday morning for monsters—”

“Good name for a band,” Pax mumbled.

Jack nodded. “Monday Morning Monsters. Still not right for us.”

“When Lamia realized Alabaster would come down here to look for Lou Ellen, she sent me down here to kill him,” Kelly said.

Pax swallowed, knowing he was to blame for the hired assassination attempt.

“Naturally,” Alabaster grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Kelly gave him a vicious grin. “There are other empousa scouting Tartarus for him. But, we all like Alabaster leading Hecate’s children.” She tilted her head to one side while examining the Witch Boy. “You don’t make us wear black robes and light candles on the Satanic Sabbath. Do you have any idea how hard it is to seduce prey when you reek of incense?”

Pax thought Alabaster’s herb-cabinet smell was seductive, but maybe that was just him. From the look on Kelly’s face, this might have been a Pax boy oddity.

Alabaster sighed and Pax wondered how many others had implied is musk was anything but spectacular. Considering everything reeked of carcass down here, Pax decided he’d have to subtly sniff-test Alabaster later.

With the knowledge that they had a guide, everyone got a renewed vigor to get the hell out of hell.

All in all, this came out the best case scenario: Alabaster joined he and Lou Ellen to make a merry trio, they were plus-one unexpected titan, Luke both had the curse of Achilles and had temporarily forgotten to be an asshole, and there was a high chance everyone would be able to keep their limbs.

They played musical chairs with the titan. Axel went to piggyback Prometheus again and almost collapsed.

“I am the titan of forethought,” Prometheus said gently when he saw Axel’s embarrassment. “I weigh heavier on some people’s shoulders than others. Hand me off to your little brother.”

It took several minutes of convincing (and several minutes of Pax pretending he wasn’t on the verge of a longed for coma) to get Axel to agree. The whole group seemed to expect Pax wouldn’t be able lift the titan—a theory Pax also supported and secretly hoped for. He didn’t want to heft the titan. That would mean effort and the responsibility of some dude that didn’t have hands or feet.

When Pax put all his strength into picking up Prometheus, he did not expect to almost toss the titan. He was feather-light.

“You don’t think ahead much, do you?” Prometheus mused.

“I strive to be impulsive,” Pax said, managing a smile.

Once their group began to move, Pax felt like Tartarus might not have been so bad. Maybe they could come down and vacation here to visit some of Alabaster’s other relatives.

With the extra weight of Lou Ellen, Alabaster moved slowly. Pax dropped behind to walk alongside him while Axel tried to catch Luke up on everything he’d forgotten and fend off Kelly’s it’s-not-creepy-at-all-that-I’m-hitting-on-you-now-that-you’ve-lost-your-memory advances.

With the lack of hands to grab Pax’s back, Prometheus was more cumbersome than heavy. Mental note: pray to Fates to let him keep both his hands, Pax thought. Unless he gained regenerative powers. Maybe having regenerative powers would be cooler. Like a lizard.

“Witch Boy,” Pax said, “Not that I’m upset that you came to save us with suit-bribery with Charon—”

“You’re lucky my grandfather insisted we keep up connections with that designer,” Alabaster grumbled.

“—but you were only an hour behind Lou Ellen and me, at max. You weren’t supposed to find our note until—” Pax was going to say “tonight,” but the lack of sun or sky left Pax uncertain of what time it was. “The night of the day we left,” he finally said.

Alabaster released a long sigh. “You would leave a note when sneaking off to Hell.”

So, Alabaster didn’t even know about their note.

“How did you know to come looking for us?” Pax asked, wondering if this was some spooky, witch thing.

Alabaster’s lips twitched into a grin despite their surroundings. “Let’s just say that Axel and I aren’t the only people who will be punishing you when you get home.”

Pax swallowed, wondering who he could have forgotten.

***

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed :D Stay tuned next week for the last installment of this short story where Pax—wait, learns to feel guilty? Pax, I didn’t know you were capable of shame… He says not to believe the chapter; it’s libel spread by his enemies.

Also! Some of you mentioned wanting a taglist for these posts. Please let me know who you are if you still wanted that XD

***

Footnote:

[1] I don’t do as many footnotes in this story as I did in my other series, and definitely not ones related to childhood. This is from a scene in a movie where Jesus is ambushed by beggars and cripples. At first, he’s startled, but compassionate. Then, the crowd gets more and more aggressive, trying to claw the holiness off of him while he’s begging them to stop, “There’s too many of you. There’s too little of me. Don’t crowd me! Leave me alone!” as he gets dragged under. This horrified tiny Jack for years >.>

#Tales from Mount Othrys #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Heroes of Olympus #TFMO #PJO #HOO #writing #Pax #Alabaster #Axel #Lou Ellen #Jack #luke #Luke not being an asshole?!?!?!#Wahhhh????!!!!

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ralfstrashcan · 5 years

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3x19 Reaction / Commentary

I didn't even skip breakfast today, it's almost as if I'm a real functioning adult ahahaha.

SDFALFJSKLDFJASDF I'M ALREADY A MESS

Ngl those first few shots made me think I had fallen headfirst into a zombie apocalypse movie. Wind swooshing through the speakers, no living soul in sight, no cars driving, just Magnus walking along the street, on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams hahahahaha sorry I'll stop.

Wow what a jerk.

There's been so many hilarious jokes about the “What fool summoned you” line, and my favorite one will forever remain this.

So, points to Magnus for asking, minus points for buying this shit not-sound-at-all story. Even “fatherly love” can't just screw the laws of nature, okay, Magnus shouldn't just skim over this. Then again I can definitely cut him slack on this because he is a little preoccupied with other problems at the moment.

Listen, Magnus's body language throughout this whole scene (and also throughout the sneak peek we saw for 3x20) is so expressive. Imma skim over it because I plan to do a thorough Relationship / Scene Analysis for Magnus and Asmodeus, so let me just leave this picture here uncommented.

No wait, I have a question. Isn't Magnus's magic occupied with guarding Lilith's home? Did Asmodeus pick it up before summoning himself or did he call it just now? Also, does Asmodeus know that Lilith is on the loose? Then again, is she even? Because no Shadowhunter can be bothered to look for her and she did say that she wanted to go back to Edom... but that was probably a lie to get Cain to cooperate. And how could she even send herself back to Edom? So many questions. Anyway moving on because who cares about Lilith.

Magnus's face when he gets his magic back. ....................yes I have no witty words here, sorry.

Lol okay I have. I love this scene, I absolutely LOVE Magnus's face and how expressive it is, but I've also been dreaming of an epic eye-sparkling, energy-crackling mid-battle-scene where Magnus regains his magic for uhhhh almost a year now, and in terms of dramatic-ness this was pretty anti-climactic. And I think we can agree he won't lose his magic again and then get it back in a more dramatic fashion. Also where are his cat eyes I feel cheated.

I mean, come on, even he gets to show them!! Btw what a dick cunning move to use them to manipulate Magnus. Since they made a compelling argument the first time around.

Also LOL Asmodeus playing nice for one second and when Magnus denies him he immediately shows his hand with “I won't take no for an answer.” Man has no patience XD

Finally I wanna give a huge HUGE shout out to Magnus for resisting Asmodeus becuase can you even imagine how low he must be feeling and yet he has enough presence of mind left to realize that whatever comfort Asmodeus offers can't be true, there must be a hook and it's best to stay away. Dude what strength.

“I only lost sight of her for a minute.” “Enough time for the Evil Rune to have taken hold.”

Uuuhhhh since when?? Did they also go to the bathroom together before?? Did I miss that?? I mean, sure, Clary was drifting sometimes, but she spent a whole half episode in the same cell as Jonathan with Jace “away” behind the glass wall and out of her sight, so...... yeah. This is a little sudden.

She keeps saying that but we have yet to see her actually filter anything. #nofilter

“No one can hurt us if we get to Morning Star first. And once we have that sword the entire world will be terrified of us....”

So he wants that evil sword not to open a rift but to keep the NY Shadowhunters off his back so he can live his life in peace. I-n-t-e-r-e-s-t-i-n-g.

Yes, good. Finally learned your lesson.

.............Or not??? I mean it's not like Clary pretended to be on his side before, to lull him into a false security and gain the upper hand. Why would he fall for it now? Because he acts like Jace is the only risk factor here, and Clary is of course truly and wholly on his side. I mean, true, the circumstances are different since she freed him and all, but like. Guy must have trust issues by now. Where are they.

Also

he should start a self help group with Alec hahahahahaha *weeping*

Me, waiting for the next episode of Shadowhunters. (Also I just noticed Simon says “me neither” not “mine neither” so it sounds as if he's not Izzy's thing, either and LOL I couldn't agree more ahahaha.)

Uh-huh, I agree. Perfect timing. I mean, it's not like there was a glaring 98% there earlier, and as if he didn't have plenty of time before to bring this unfortunate line of conversation up. This is on you, Simon. Don't blame the filtering.

HAHAHA ASK ALEC, HE'S GOING TO THROW IT AT HIM HAHAHAHAHAHA

Seriously though. Just, uh, crush it into powder, add some saline solution, done. And I'm not even a scientist. This is intuitive. The heck.

I'm 1000000% on board with all of this, okay. Over excited Alec is the best Alec. Handholding is the best. Magnus's weariness of surprises is headcanon confirmed. Yes to all of it.

So there were a few lines that were widely interpreted as allusions to their kinky sex life and tbh I never bought any of it because I thought it was seeing too much where there was nothing, but this is so very obviously meant in a kinky way that I'll accept it. Another headcanon confirmed ahahaha this episode is so generous to me.

Ugh I'm so gonna have to write something about that. And knowing myself, it'll be sad closeted Alec daydreaming of all the things he can never have.

Question time, what are those weird rivets thingies? Do they hold any meaning? Is their placement of importance? Because they look very deliberate and very there. I'm confused.

Also, this scene was designed to drive me crazy. There's 7 different shots where we see the lock's placement and there are no less than 3 (!!!!!) different placements. Placement #1, #3 and #5 are consistent (though really, #1 and #5 shouldn't even count because they are clearly the same shot, just with Magnus's hand reaching for the lock) on the left side of the yellow lock, to the bottom left of the Dips lock.

Then we see Alec placing it in an empty compartment at the very edge of the construction (placement #2), only for it to be on the compartment below that in the next shot (placement #4), sharing space with a little gray-blueish lock. This is the same place from where Magnus removes it then (placement #6).

I hate inconsistencies, okay, and I really did notice all this the first time watching. I can't not-see stuff like this. The only fun that comes out this detail obsessiveness is the lock that clearly ships Captain America and Captain Marvel (left) and the lock that was placed from two years in the future (right) because ahahahaha did the show forget it takes place in 2016?? It would seem so.

And yes, I chose to focus on this instead of the fact that Magnus incinerates their lock because that hurts my heart too much to think about, okay. That scene was perfect, the music swelling in all the right places and just. So heart-wrenching. I might've teared up a little. You can't prove anything.

Why she not removing those paper thingies? Seems impractical.

Paint on face trope? Check.

Yeah Raphael, lemme pay you some respect for facing your mistakes like that. I like it a lot.

Istg if they don't give him GPS this time and just rely on the tracking rune again, which Jonathan and Clary will insist he blocks, then imma flip my shit.

.......................so many fanfics want to be written here, okay. So many.

Also is no one gonna talk about the fact that they all put the ring on the pointer when that's not the intuitive position to place a ring? For security reasons alone you should put it on your middle finger so it doesn't accidentally slip off. Oh right, I forgot. Magic ring.

I love how Alec's voice wavers and you just know he sends Jace away because he'll start crying if he doesn't (even if in this screen cap Alec looks weirdly happy). Btw headcanon that Jace didn't realize something was up at first and was only tipped off when Izzy asked earlier if Alec was okay, and then he prodded at the parabatai connection and realized... there was nothing. Just a solid wall of nothing, because Alec's been sealing off his feelings completely.

1) Wow, Simon, your condolences are amazing. 2) Please, explain? Is she in a coma? Walking around as if she'd had a lobotomy?? But whatever, just skim over this, she's a minor character anyway and nobody cares about her *shrug*

This is the LAZIEST plot convenience I ever had to see with my own two eyes. I really can't work up the energy to rage about this. Just, wtf. Then again, not calling ahead with vital information seems to be Luke's Thing, just remember the 3x15 disaster. At this point it might as well be considered a character trait of him and no longer plot convenience. *sigh* Also, Shadowhunters are major creeps, am I supposed to believe they don't have a few liters of all of their soldiers' blood stored away somewhere, for reasons?

Uh-huh, Izzy. And if you care to remember, that was about 20 episodes ago. And since vampires have a constant craving for blood they seem to have some kind of metabolic. If you want to tell me that Jace's blood is still IN Simon, then either a) he's been chipping away at the Jace-blood-stash he has hidden in his second gastric and if that runs out he'll no longer be a daylighter or b) Jace's blood went into Simon's cells and changed him on a molecular level..... in which case, to extract it they'd have to remove it, un-daylighter-ing Simon in the process. Or maybe just parts of him? Imagine if he was a daylighter except for his left arm or something. In any case, this is majorly ridiculous and I can't believe I have to suffer through this.

????????????? Who opened that portal? I mean, if he had to call on a warlock to get away, wouldn't it have been easiser for Izzy and Co. to stop him from running through that portal and make him donate some blood first? Instead of forcing this bullshit logic on me? Ugh. But I get it, this is necessary to justify a Sizzy scene. Whatever.

Hahahhahha.

Which means nothing, since Jace can activate his runes without his stele. Or did they forget that part again?? I mean, it's been half a season since he last did that.

“And if it wasn't for our connection I suspect you'd do it again.”

lolololol hilarious.

HAHHAHA WILL YOU STOP WITH THE HILARITY

Honestly, the way they all act I get the distinct feeling I'm watching an exasperated kindergartener and two particularly clingy toddlers vying for her attention XD

Uuuuhhhh yeah hit me with more Malec Flashbacks to make me feel shitty, why don't you.

Okay, consoled. Btw thanks for confirming another headcanon that between the two of them Magnus is the one easier swayed by puppy eyes.

HAHAHAHA of course my mind immediately interpreted that as a misguided pun about Magnus being a Prince of Edom hahahaa wtf Alec

Dammit, his eyes. You can really see how he's allowing himself to start dreaming about it.

Also, can't believe they had a kiddie talk with at least some seriousness, what, two months into their relationship?? Haha. And internally Madzie was like “Uh boring grown up talk, at least I got my sprinkles.”

See, this is what I have problems with. On the one hand, even with all his emotional turmoil going on, Magnus is still enough in his right mind not to fall for Asmodeus's sweet talking, but on the other hand he revisits all of those memories and doesn't realize Alec breaking up with him can't have been real? This doesn't really add up. Either he is out of his mind with emotions that he can't see this very very strange happening for being something fishy (then he shouldn’t have been able to so easily resist Asmodeus), or he's still level-headed enough not to be driven by emotions entirely (then he should have realized the breakup was fake).

toddler fight intensifies

I'M WHEEZING HAHAHAHAHAHAH R U FOR REAL. Also remember my statement from last week? Where I said “I mean, in a way it's nice to know that Demonic Clary isn't smarter than Regular Clary.” Turns out she's so much worse than Regular Clary XD

Lol Raphael is that still you talking or the Plot Point? Because ngl, when I saw that sneak peek promo thingy where Jordan eyes the dramatically last vial of serum in the Institute I immediately thought they want to cook up a conflict there, where he steals the last vial needed to help save Clary and bla bla bla. I really hope they don't go down that road because I feel he should be better than this by now. *sigh* In any case, while I enjoyed the first part of this plot line with Raphael coming here to make reparations, this feels really forced and convenient.

OH MY GOD THANK YOU SIMON FOR ASKING THE IMPORTANT QUESTIONS WTF I NEED ANSWERS

Wow can't believe they pulled this obvious and clearly unfitting parallel to Sizzy. I mean, Simon lost his glasses back in S1 and even before that Izzy noticed he was hot in like ep 2. She's been appreciating him as a friend since at least 2B if not sooner. So please don't pretend that she just didn't notice what a great guy he is, because she did. She knows he's someone you can count on, who's there when you need him, with advice or a joke or just to listen to you. She knows all this, and has for seasons. But, surprise surprise, you don't fall in love with everyone who's a great guy and a good friend. That is a thing. Friendships are a thing. Anyway, at least I can wholeheartedly agree that in any possible scenario Izzy is the hot girl XD

HAHAHA JACE THAT'S PAYBACK FOR ALL THOSE TIMES YOU INTERRUPTED MALEC HAHA KARMA IS A BITCH RIGHT

.......or just use glamors to look like Downworlders. Just saying.

Jonathan using the cuts to get a secretive chest grab in on Jace, but I know all those sleazy tricks and you can't slip that feel-up past me #busted

*weeping tears* yeah, and he'll never get the real deal. what a tragedy.

“...the Downworlder club. I think the runes front and center on my neck make a compelling argument, don't you agree?” Also the foreboding background music totally spoiled this 'twist.' (I'm using ''s because it was totally obvious this wouldn't work.)

Look I just love Alec, okay. I LOVE ALEC.

*waves hand* elite guard *waves hand some more* blue mark on his neck *smacks self in the face with waving hand* look i'm pretty sure Meliorn doesn't have a mark like this and he's like, the only Seelie that gets regular screen and talking time with the queen. But I'm way too behind schedule to start looking into it, I might edit something in here later (or never ahahaha).

OH DEAR THE MOMENT OF TRUTH

YES YES YES PLEASE

DUUUUDE WHY ARE YOU GIVING HIM IDEAS WHAT THE HELL

Also, remembering that short sequence of Magnus shooting red magic at his temples from the promo doesn't bode too well for the rest of the episode. Dammit.

You had one job, Lindsay. One. Job. (Yes, please imagine the Loki Gif here. I just love him a lot, okay. Loki <3<3<3)

(^pls imagine her little disenchanted headshake because any screen caps I tried to take made her look drugged out of her mind lol.)

Yep, this is it. This is it.

Sooooo.... how exactly did they persuade the bouncer? Just curious.

HAHAHAAHAH duuuuuude hahahhaa.

........when exactly did Jonathan spy all that? I mean, I've been having questions about the pacing since that ep with the Baby Jonathan Flashbacks, because that manibus whatever demon? Referring to 2x05. So Jonathan only got to earth after that? Howwww? Not thanks to Valentine, right, since he didn't even know Jonathan existed until 2x15 where Jonathan intercepted him from his portal to Idris? And didn't they say Sebastian Verlac disappeared half a year ago?? How does that all match up?

In any case, I feel like the seelie queen suddenly having a warlock boy toy who she can't order into her realm and who she has monthly scheduled appointments with that the whole shadow world knows about is a) totally absurd b) pretty ooc for her and c) reeking of plot convenience. They just couldn't find a better excuse for her to be at a certain place at a certain time. They should have made her attend a fashion show, or hell, a gardening contest. Would have been more credible than whatever this is.

“I grab the queen. Clary portals the three of us away.” “The four of us, including the queen.”

HAHAHHAHAHHA I CAN'T XD XD XD #slightly consoled

WHEN THE HELL DID JONATHAN READ / WATCH THE SHINING ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW WTF!!!!!

1) This doesn't work in real life. Do you have any idea how much time it takes to catch a snow flake or a raindrop this way? I know because I've tried, and the anwer is ages. 2) Seems a very uneconomical way to distrubute drugs. Whoever invented that business model must be in deep depts by now. 3) What kind of shitty plan was that on Jonathan's part? Get Jace on drugs, he'll surely expose himself to be a traitor? I hate the fact that it works. I hate that everyone's shitty plans always work (re: Sizzy's dilettantish prison infiltration) because that's why they all keep making shitty plans. Positive reinforcement and all that. The only one who always gets punched in the face for making okay-to-good plans is Alec, and that's why he's the overthinker. So unfair.

“Well this is awkward because I just stole it for you.”

So frakkin predictable. Also, how did he steal it from the table when Izzy and Simon where guarding it?? It clearly was still there when Maia left and like

Did Jordan just grab it and run? So many questions.

Don't get me wrong, that whole forging the sword sequence was super badass, but like, if you're wielding scorching hot metal it seems a little impractical to just wear security goggles and a leather apron. There were freaking sparks flying and Izzy ducked. What the hell. What about, idk, unconventional but, a protective suit?? And Simon isn't any better. “Oh, I could die from this sword? Just lemme hide behind this doorway real quick.” *sigh* One of these days a character should die because of dumbass behavior, maybe that'd teach them all a lesson.

Also, this is totally logic. They had a splinter from the original sword that they then made tons of serum from, which they saved 3 vials of..... and somehow this was still enough to forge a whole new frikking sword that's apparently just as powerful as the original one. I don't even know where to start with this bullshit.

.................dude, if you wanted to persuade her you should have pointed out the ring to her. But maybe this isn't about logic at all, this is about wanting to know if he is Clary's first choice without logic or reason, and that would make sense for his character, even if it's not the most sensible or productive course of action.

Me, during the fight scene: “Wow, I believe all that Seelie guard slaughtering is not going to end up in a Downworlder vs Shadowhunter war again..... ha..... hahahaha.”

Arguing with a possessed person. Again. Honestly this is the, uhhh, fifth time this happens on this show? And people just seem to never learn. SIGH

Yeah, by not following the plan and acting stupid, so my sympathy is pretty limited aka non-existent. Btw his slide across the Institute floor was hilarious. And also, pretty nice of Clary not to just kill him. This is the second time she's spared him. Interesting.

ISTG IF THIS SCENE ENDS WITH A CLIFFHANGER IF HE GOES THROUGH WITH IT OR NOT IMMA FLIP MY SHIT

*manic laughter* I love that this makes so much sense. Asmodeus needs Magnus's heartbreak so he'll be susceptible to Asmodeus's influence. So his motives are shitty. On the other hand it's not as if what Asmodeus says to Magnus isn't the truth. Fighting through this will make Magnus stronger, no doubt. Knowing he can be this low and still get back on his feet without running away and succumbing to the pain. And I'm glad, for obvious reasons, that Magnus didn't go through with the memory removal because ain't nobody got time for those issues. Mending the breakup in a satisfying was will be hard enough as is. Back to the scene at hand, I gotta say I love this about Asmodeus: He doesn't lie outright, he mostly lies by omission, and he speaks enough truth to really screw with everyone's perception. It's awesome. He is such a great antagonist and his dynamic with Magnus is highly fascinating.

Conclusion: Not enough Malec (seriously, their only scenes together are flashbacks? the frakkin audacity) but tbh I'm still too high on endorphines since the memory removal didn't happen that I'm mostly okay with it. And the Jonathan-Jace comedy was nice.

#shadowhunters #3x19 #magnus bane #alec lightwood #isabelle lightwood #clary fray #jace wayland #asmodeus #simon lewis #jonathan morgenstern #maia roberts #kyle #luke garroway #raphael santiago #reaction

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politicalmamaduck · 5 years

Text

for you, I will try

Ben Solo has been keeping a secret his entire life: he's a Beta, not an Alpha. For Omega Rey, however, he will try to please her as best he can despite their statuses and arranged marriage.

Written for @persimonne for winning my Reylo Fanfiction Anthology themed giveaway! She correctly guessed the six writers who participated in every previous Anthology. Her prompts were: "A/B/O with a plot twist: Rey is an omega and Kylo is a beta, but he's so determined to win her favour that he goes all the way down the line to keep her satisfied like a true alpha would. Bonus if he gets hospitalized because of sexual shenanigans (he can break his dick for example). And Arranged marriage (Canonverse or any kind of AU is okay): Rey accepts to marry Kylo Ren for political reasons, but he refuses to have sex with her during their wedding night. Thirsty!Rey begins a heavy courtship and he finally surrenders: she discovers that he is not what he seems..." I did my best to combine them both! I hope you will like my twist on these tropes.

Read it on AO3 here.

If Rey could survive scavenging in the arid Jakku desert as an Omega, then she could survive anything. Even a political marriage to Ben Solo. He was certainly no drunken lecher like many of the starpilots who found themselves subject to the mercy of Unkar Plutt and wishing to take their frustrations out on a lowly Omega scavenger girl.

At least that’s what she kept telling herself, repeating it almost as if it were a mantra the morning of her wedding.

She knew what was expected of her. It was an Omega’s duty to be mated by their Alpha. Though intimate and awkward, Rey did not fear mating; in fact, the idea excited her, and she looked forward to never being alone again. She had seen the Light in Ben Solo, reached across space and time and the galaxy to coax it out from his shadows and demons, and if being his mate meant she could bring him back to the Light--and to his beloved mother--even for political convenience, she would do it.

With their marriage, the war between the Resistance and the First Order would end, and the galaxy would finally know peace. She could pass on what she had learned, from Luke and Ben, and ensure that a new generation of Force sensitives, regardless of Alpha, Beta, or Omega status, would never feel the way she had.

She was strong in the ways of the Force. Untrained, but stronger than she knew, he said. He believed every word of it, and now, with some training, she could become one of the greatest Force users the galaxy had ever seen. But did she believe in herself the way he did? He hoped so, for it was only through her own self-confidence that this political arrangement could possibly work.

Kylo Ren held a closely guarded secret, one only his Master knew, not even his parents or his uncle. He had bared his soul to Rey of Jakku like no one before, and now, she too would know his secrets. He only hoped that she would not be too disappointed, that she would not laugh at him or make fun of him. It had been his greatest fear since childhood, that his secrets would be discovered and he would become a galaxy-wide laughingstock.

The wedding ceremony seemed nothing more than a blur, so nervous was the groom, particularly when he held Rey’s hands again for the first time since the Force brought them together while she was training with Luke. Her hands were callused, yet warm and comforting.

In barely a blink of an eye the wedding was done and the feasting began. Neither Ben nor Rey could hardly breathe or eat, though so many of the guests handed them goblets and carafes made of the finest transparisteel for toasts. Both were uncertain of their destiny, and unable to express their feelings.

Rey longed to be alone with her husband for the first time. Ben dreaded the moment in which he had to explain to his wife what he was hiding. He had never enjoyed being in a crowd, or the fancy banquets his mother always seemed to be attending, but tonight he found the distractions to be a relief. The air was heavy with the scents of food and drink and mingling body odors. No one would notice something strange about his scent, even though he did his best to hide it with the Force. Certainly not his wife, who was claimed by one dance partner after another once their first dance as a couple ended. Nor his mother, who hadn’t seen him since he first started hiding his scent after puberty. Not wanting to delve too deeply into that particular wound, he centered himself once more and took another glass.

The luxurious feast ended after countless courses and toasts, and with fewer arguments than had been predicted. If Han Solo were still alive, there would undoubtedly have been bets placed on who would take a swing at whom after a few too many Corellian whiskeys. Ben’s head was swimming from his nerves rather than any fine food or intoxicant.

He gently took Rey’s hand once more and led her up to their spacious suite, where even more food and drink awaited them. The main bedchamber opened onto a balcony; the moon was high and the stars shone brightly above them. He stepped outside to look at the stars, hoping to find his resolve among them.

Rey stepped out quietly next to him, putting her arm around his waist. He turned to look into her eyes, so open and honest, and thanked the Force that it was the only woman he had ever loved that he was required to marry.

“Will you come back inside?” she asked, reaching a hand up to his face, and he leaned into her touch. For just a moment, they were--could be--a happy couple enjoying their wedding night, and then Ben forced himself back to reality, and the truth with which he had to confront.

“Rey, there’s something I need to tell you,” he said, leading them back inside and pouring them a drink. If he kept his hands occupied, he didn’t have to look into Rey’s eyes once more while he maintained his false illusion.

“What’s wrong, Ben?” she asked, not waiting for him to hand her a drink, but jumping up from the settee and placing an arm around him once more.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, reaching out to the Force and bracing himself for her inevitable disappointment.

“I’m not an Alpha, Rey.”

She turned her head to look up at him, her brow furrowed and shock flashing across her hazel eyes.

“What do you mean?” she asked, shaking her head. “That can’t be possible. Everyone knows you’re an Alpha.”

“I’m a Beta,” he replied, turning his face down to watch himself wringing his hands in his lap, unable to stop or to look at her. “Snoke was the only one who ever knew. I’ve kept it a secret my whole life.”

He could feel Rey’s shock and concern reverberating in the Force. He looked up to the ceiling and sent a silent prayer to his grandmother’s gods for the first time since his childhood that his mother was not reaching out with the Force at that moment to feel Rey’s distress--or his own.

“I’m so sorry to disappoint you,” he managed to croak out, with his eyes closed once more. “I knew I could never be the husband or mate you wanted. You’re too good for me.”

Where just a moment before he felt shock, he now sensed resolve from Rey. “Ben. Look at me,” she demanded, and she grabbed his chin to pull his face towards hers.

Ben opened his eyes, blinking back tears. I’m as pathetic and weak as Snoke told me I was.

Rey’s brow furrowed. “No, you’re not. We’ve been through this already. You killed Snoke to save me. I don’t care about your status. I’m sure you can learn to please me just as well as an Alpha. I’ve wanted intimacy my whole life.”

She reached out her hand to him like she had that starry night on Ahch-To, and the dark night on the Supremacy. He took it, and she squeezed his hand. She brought her other up to his cheek to wipe away his tears.

“Would you like to try?” she asked, stroking his cheek.

Ben shuddered and sighed. “I’ve never been with anyone before. I’d like to try, for you. But not tonight, please. I’m not ready.” He had already bared his soul to her, and shared his deepest secret. He found he could not also bare his body to her as well. Though she had seen him bare chested, she had not seen the worst of his scars.

She nodded, and kissed his cheek. Ben found somehow, he could breathe a bit more easily.

“Let’s get some rest, then,” she said, pulling him towards their luxurious bed that would not be used for its intended purpose--that night.

…

She broke their kiss to place one on his cock, and he involuntarily jerked his hips forward, closer to where she was sitting on their bed, Ben spread out before her. Though their first kiss was tentative, Rey’s hand on his cock was anything but. Ben moaned as she stroked him, her deft hands providing exquisite pleasure.

Rey smiled wickedly, and kept her eyes on his as she took him into her mouth, causing him to moan once more.

“Rey,” he said, reaching for her. “Please, Rey, let me--” he began, and she took that opportunity to clamber on top of him, and position his weeping cock at her entrance. She sank down onto him, and they both sighed.

“You’re so big,” she said, rocking her hips. “So big and strong,” she continued, breathing heavily as he thrust in tandem with her movements.

“Oh, Rey,” he said, giving in to the sensations and the Force swirling around them. They were connected, mind, body, and soul, and it was beyond even his wildest, most desperate dreams as a teenager who was too tall and whose ears stuck out too much. “You’re wonderful, Rey.”

“Ben,” she said, reaching to grab his hands and pin them behind his head. Their breathing became faster and heavier until Ben came and Rey suddenly stopped moving, her muscles clenching around his length. She closed her eyes and remained there until her breathing slowed, then she curled up next to him, placing an arm over his chest and languidly stroking the scar on his left side from Chewbacca’s bowcaster.

“What can we try next?” she asked after a few minutes, and Ben blushed, but he knew he’d try anything for her. She said she thought he could learn to please her as well as an Alpha, and he’d be damned if he didn’t.

…

“Such a good boy,” Rey crooned, striking Ben’s backside lightly with a whip. He was kneeling on all fours on their bed, his hands bound in front of him, and a plug planted firmly in his asshole.

He moaned, and she smacked him again, then positioned herself behind him. “We’re going to take such good care of each other, aren’t we?” she asked, stroking a hand down his back.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Oh yes, Rey.”

“I’m going to fuck you, and then you’re going to fuck me,” she said, removing his butt plug and rubbing lube onto her strap-on.

He shuddered and moaned again, and Rey grabbed his hips, then entered him.

“Does that feel good?” she asked, thrusting into him.

“So good,” he replied, rocking back onto her cock. “You’re so good.”

She thrust into him a few more times, until she was ready for her own release, then put his plug back him, pushed him down onto his back, and began riding him.

…

Though he couldn’t knot her like an Alpha, Ben’s large size and eagerness to please more than made up for it in Rey’s opinion.

“You can’t come until I tell you to,” she said, and Ben nodded. His hands were bound again, and he had a ball gag in his mouth. She could see he was starting to drool a little already, so eager for her ministrations and explorations.

“Where shall I begin?” she asked, stroking a finger down his chest. She stopped just short of his cock, which twitched. She smiled and began gently stroking his cock, watching his pupils dilate with lust. She stroked her hands down his thighs next, feeling the thick muscles beneath and watching him watch her.

Her movements were slow and sensual torture.

“You’re mine,” she murmured, leaning up to place a kiss on his cheek. “All mine,” she continued, licking the drool off his chin.

She leaned back down, and grabbed the lube from their nightstand. She lubed her index finger, then circled Ben’s asshole with it. He jerked with her movements, his body and eyes indicating what his voice could not--that he was desperate for more. She inserted her finger, stroking inside, then removed it, and made a show of lubing her middle finger as well, then inserted them both, thrusting back and forth.

She made it to three fingers before Ben’s whimpering, growling, moaning noises became more urgent.

“My Ben, so good and patient,” she said as she straddled him, both of them wet. She barely needed to grind or rock on him before he came. She undid his restraints and removed his gag, then he curled up next to her on the bed and stroked her hair.

“My Rey,” he murmured, and she kissed him softly.

…

The rest of their honeymoon continued with languorous days filled with lovemaking, broken only by the droid staff bringing them meals, until their final idle day in luxury.

They were trying a particularly adventurous new position, aided by the Force, when Ben’s back suddenly creaked and cracked. The momentary lapse in concentration caused them both to fall to the floor, Rey on top of Ben, and the results landed Ben in such a way that he had to be rushed to the medcenter. Rey and Ben tried their best to remain calm, despite his pain and the panicking staff droids, though they weren’t sure how exactly they would explain to the med droids how exactly they managed to break his dick.

#reylo #rffa writers #a/b/o dynamics #sub ben solo #dom rey #beta ben solo #omega rey #fan fiction #my writing #rated e #persimonne #tumblr friends #language tw

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404botnotfound · 5 years

Text

Corrupt [2]

Come, oh bearer mine, and show them that even a rose can be deadly.

SERIES: Destiny WORD COUNT: 6,806 SHIP: N/A CHARACTERS: kel, luke, cayde-6, lord shaxx, eris morn, ikora, zavala, quinn

Almost two weeks later, Cayde’s call comes at an inopportune moment.

Middle of a firefight with a group of Fallen that he’s sorely underestimated, and he makes the mistake of opening the line at the exact time he sees the Captain bearing down in him. Before Cayde can start to speak Kel grunts and calmly says, “one second,” before diving out of the way of a pair of shock blades that descend on him.

Reaching for his belt and one of the sticky grenades resting there Kel rushes forward, ducking underneath the Fallen’s four arms and two blades, not stopping to look behind him as the Captain roars in offense.

An explosion causes the rocks under his feet to shudder. A blink of red disappears from his HUD radar.

The comm line, surprisingly, remains patiently silent.

He takes stock of the enemies left: a dozen Fallen, all of them conveniently grouped up.

Propelling himself forward he leaps from the ground and pushes off the surface of a broken pillar, light roiling around him and shrouding his body in rippling flames—flames that he pulls handfuls of etheric, fiery knives from that fly from his hands too fast for the Fallen to dodge.

Kel lands as those knives erupt around him, and when the dust settles there are no Fallen bodies to be seen. Just ash and smoldering, blackened shrubs.

His fingers flex over the grip of the hand cannon held in them, eyes scan for any more enemies in waiting.

Cayde can’t seem to keep silent any longer. “Was that the trick I taught you? Tell me that was the trick I taught you. It was the trick I taught you, wasn’t it.”

Kel ignores him, glancing at Echo as she materializes to survey the area. “Did you have news?”

“We know how to find her.” Cayde answers without missing a beat or acknowledging the snub.

He holsters Thorn and turns away from the battlefield he’d just cleared, and Echo calls in his ship without prompting. He doesn’t need to hear more explanation than that, but Cayde gives it anyway, voice briefly drowned out by the roar of engines.

Kel wonders if he does it just to reassure himself that Quinn was still alive and they would get her back now that they had a lead.

Luke’s assumption that the Taken had pulled her through a rift into the Ascendant Plane had been correct—and her ghost, after having found a way out of that alternate dimension, had gone on for several minutes about how terrifying it was until Ikora had gently urged it to focus.

Apparently she had managed to turn the Taken’s own paracausal powers against them, tearing a hole in that reality herself. A rip only big enough for Glyph to slip through, allowing it to return to the Tower, frantic and exhausted by the long and rushed journey between Saturn and Earth.

It knew where to enter the Ascendant realm to find her—the tricky part would be hoping they got there quickly enough to keep whatever lurked there from either corrupting or killing her.

Kel’s fingers twitch near his holster and he wonders: were they one and the same?

He wonders: what would Dredgen Yor have said?

He doesn’t dwell on it, spending the entire flight from Venus back to Earth silent and aware of the rising hum in the back of his head the closer he got after days of peace. Like when he had found it, Thorn was eager.

The little girl still appears in the corner of his eyes and tugs on the hem of his tattered cloak, begging for his attention. Sometimes he feels her fingers curl around his own, finding upon looking down that they’ve been replaced by the grip of a handgun that purrs at him to lift the barrel to his chin and pull the trigger.

It’s getting easier for him to recognize the signs and brush them aside, but the visions and whispers had intensified and Kel knows he’s on a short timer. Part of him wants to just toss the damn thing, but the rest of him doesn’t enjoy the thought of what might happen should someone that hadn’t spent hundreds of years practicing intense self-control got their hands on it.

It had already proven itself to be a ticking time bomb for even him—how deep and easy would it sink its claws into someone else?

So, no, he wouldn’t toss the gun and hope for the best, and he had done everything from emptying every round of his rocket launcher’s ammo on it to dropping it in the lava flows of Venus in the hopes of destroying it without success.

The lava flow attempt had left him blacked out and he had woken later with the gun vibrating with furious energy.

That had been the first time Kel had felt true, all-consuming fear since his rebirth, and it was also the moment he realized that Thorn was more than just an accursed weapon in the City’s and in humanity’s history—it was a curse in and of itself.

One that he now held the responsibility of containing.

Eris had said there was a way to silence it, to make it easier to control, but in two weeks he’d had no luck finding how. He was running out of time, and quickly, but he had enough time for this detour. He wouldn’t abandon Quinn. Not when there was a chance she was still alive, not when Gil had given his life to make that chance possible, and not when her bright presence had burned away the shadows of his memories.

When he arrives on Earth he’s met with more greetings that he only briefly acknowledges before moving on. The less time he spent here, the better.

Eris is absent from her place in the Vanguard hall again, but Kel’s steps slow and then stop when he catches Shaxx’s gaze.

From behind their helmets they stare each other down. Shaxx’s fists are clenched tightly at his sides, and Kel sees arc energy sparking around them. He could apologize for what had happened—he had violated the sanctity of the man’s training grounds, unknowingly or not—but it would be hollow and they both knew it.

There was nothing forgivable about murdering one of their own.

“Shaxx.”

The bold greeting sends a fresh ripple of furious static sparking over the titan’s form. “Dredgen.”

Kel can’t put a finger on whether it’s the icy treatment of a stranger he receives or the cold accusation behind the simple moniker, but the painful sting nearly cripples him. The former he had expected, but the latter?

He swallows it down and continues forward as though it didn’t affect him. Though Shaxx looked as though he was ready to intercept him and wanted to do nothing more, the titan remains in place and stares him down as he passes.

Like the last time he had approached the war room an argument is underway, only this time the doors are wide open and the subject, thankfully, isn’t him. Ikora is silent, her hands clasped behind her back, while Zavala and Cayde butt their heads together.

“—I’m going, Zavala. You can run my hunters through Shiro or Marcus while I’m gone, but I’m going.” Cayde says, heated. Not quite as rare attitude for him, but still out of the norm.

“We need you here, Cayde,” Zavala jabs a finger down onto the table in front of him to emphasize the statement, firm and unyielding in everything from his voice to his body language, “let her fireteam run the rescue op and we’ll send a temporary third with them.”

Cayde refuses to concede. “And I need to be there.”

He’s the first to notice Kel’s entrance. His expression shifts to something neutral, but Kel doesn’t miss the quick glance to where Thorn is strapped to his thigh. Cayde’s gaze lingers—and then he gives Kel a nod in greeting. “I gotta be there for more than one reason.”

Kel returns his nod and understands.

Zavala doesn’t look happy about Kel’s presence, but whatever protests he has to it are held in check; he makes no effort, however, to hide his distrust. Ikora just gives him a once over and a long, considering look before lifting her chin ever so slightly in acknowledgement.

Two out of three wasn’t bad.

He says nothing, quietly continuing down the steps and veering off to the side once he’d reached the lowered landing and finding a spot apart from them where he can stand silent and still as a statue. Maybe they could pretend he wasn’t even there.

Distraction put aside Cayde continues his argument. “Only way you’re keepin’ me off this op, Zavala, is by puttin’ a lock on my ship.”

“Which you would find a way to break or circumvent.” Zavala sighs explosively, pushing away from the table and folding his arms over his chest. “This isn’t like Venus, or Mars, or any of our other warzones, Cayde. You’ll be heading into Oryx’s turf, not one we control.”

“I know the risk. It’s worth it.” Cayde replies.

Silence falls, stretching out until Ikora speaks up. “Think of it this way, Zavala: there would be something especially inspiring for our guardians and City to see one of their leaders heading a direct strike into the heart of the enemy. Morale is something we’ve...been seeing a decline in recently.”

She must’ve been taking a backseat to mediate their argument.

Still, Zavala says nothing, leaning forward on the table again and showing his distaste openly. “And if you die, Cayde? If this fails?”

“It’s a risk all of them take every single day. ‘Side from the fact we’re the ones givin’ orders, what makes us so special?”

Kel had already had more than enough respect for Cayde but that simple rhetorical question tips it even higher.

Hunter Vanguards historically had the shortest details—in the years since the City’s beginning, both warlocks and titans had seen less than five leadership changes combined, and hunters alone had seen at least five—that were typically cut short thanks to a stereotypically flighty nature that usually got them killed.

Cayde was the ‘youngest’ of the current Vanguard iteration, and he still knew what it felt like to be one of the rank and file. Zavala and Ikora had forgotten, and both look sobered by the statement.

In the end Zavala relents, and Kel wordlessly follows Cayde from the war room.

Luke is rushing across the plaza when they run into him, apparently trying to get to the war room himself. Cayde intercepts him before he bypasses them entirely, and Kel has to spend a handful of heartbeats carefully controlling his breathing and beating down the rage that threatens to resurge. It wasn’t his fault, he reminds himself.

Cayde and Luke are staring at him when he returns to the present. Luke looks nervous, and Cayde was once again unreadable. He says nothing to it. “Are we going or not?”

He wants Quinn back within the City walls, safe. He wants to strike a blow against the Taken King, retaliation for his lost brother. The sooner he does both, the sooner he can retreat from the remnants of humanity and seek a way to control Thorn’s influence, keeping them safe from the threat it poses to all of them.

He keeps his distance on the flight from Earth to the rings of Saturn, remaining in the middeck of Cayde’s ship and listening while the Hunter Vanguard and Luke discuss their plan with Glyph giving input based on its knowledge of the chunk of the Ascendant Plane they’d be infiltrating.

Luke glances over at him every so often and Kel returns the looks from behind his helmet impassively, saying nothing; like with Shaxx, he knows that there aren’t words to make up for what he had almost done, and he doesn’t expect Luke to forgive him for it.

They journey deep into Oryx’s floating fortress once they arrive, directed by Glyph who had opted to share a ‘backpack’ with Cayde’s ghost, Sundance. Neither of his allies comment on him using Thorn, but Cayde does conspicuously order Luke to fall back and bring up the rear and Kel to take point, keeping himself between the two members of Fireteam Ward.

It was just as well; the proximity to so much Hive power and magic made the black static at the back of his mind roil, so Kel doesn’t mind pulling ahead so his back was to them rather than the other way around.

Pulling an Ascendant Soul from one of Oryx’s many ‘children’ on the Dreadnaught is no simple task but they accomplish it through equal amounts skill and raw determination—there would be no other way to force open the tear that Quinn had created.

Glyph’s directions lead them into a passage small enough all three of them have to duck down to file through. Luke’s vocal disgust about the chitinous growths and writhing hive worms surrounding them allows a brief moment of amusement to push back Thorn’s greedy grasping at his mind.

The passage darkens the further in they move, all the colors reaching his eyes suddenly washing out in shades of dark blues and grays and blacks as though a painter had stripped all of the vibrance from their universe.

The change from the plane of existence they call home and the Ascendant one is immediate and disorienting, as though they’d stepped through a pressurized barrier, the weight of the air around them suddenly oppressive and stifling. His light feels small and choked and he knows that he can’t remain here long.

Already, Thorn is drawing strength from the darkness.

The passage opens up after a ways and all three of them are struck dumb by the void that greets them, littered with cracked stone pathways and floating islands of sand and Hive growths consuming nearly every visible surface.

All around them a howling gale roars, dark clouds twisting and and swirling, obscuring every broken, floating pathway until a blinding flash of lightning within the unnatural storm around them sets the endless horizon alight and reveals them.

Along with the shadows of massive, writhing tendrils somewhere in the far distance within the smoke-like clouds of the storm.

The reports of Crota’s throne world, infiltrated by that six-man fireteam decades ago, hadn’t done this chaotic realm justice. It was terrifying in its seemingly endless, haunting expanse with the storm around them both deafening and silent at once.

He couldn’t see any of Oryx’s mindless army, but he can still feel countless eyes watching them, greedy and hungry, something ancient and eldritch and powerful waiting for them to fall into the yawning abyss below.

Thorn feels abnormally warm in his palm. It speaks to him for the first time in nearly a week, voice almost incomprehensible within the deafening cacophony of echoes that accompany it.

Do you hear it, oh bearer mine? The song. Listen to the song. Hear its truth.

Light-wielders shouldn’t be here. No one should be here. He knows this instinctively, and with a glance at the other two Kel knows that both of them have come to the same conclusion.

And Quinn had spent over a month trapped in this hell. Alone.

A massive, distant roar rising over the silent gale snaps them all of them out of their horrified awe, reminding them of what they had come here for.

Cayde readies his Ace. “C’mon, let’s move.” To the point and devoid of his usual good humor. It’s a testament to the wrong-ness of this place, to the danger of it. This wasn’t a place to underestimate and he knew there was no place for his usual levity and devil-may-care attitude here.

This time he leads the way, Glyph’s nervous voice over team comms telling them that Oryx’s throne world was massive, and it had no idea how much further in Quinn may have traveled in its absence—they hadn’t been able to find somewhere safe to just bunker down, and it wasn’t likely she had found a way to since.

Monsters unlike anything they had ever seen wandered these teetering paths and inexplicable ruins, apparently, and it makes near-frantic emphasis that even if they couldn’t see any now they were still everywhere.

So they moved forward carefully, following Glyph’s direction further into the throne world, all on high alert. Cayde quickly grew visibly frustrated with their slow pace, but with the roaring winds and fog around them they could scarcely see twenty feet ahead, and knowing that one wrong step sent them into a dark abyss that Kel doubted they could survive, ghost or not, they couldn’t afford to rush any more than they could afford to dawdle.

Several times Glyph had to call out for them to abruptly change direction or for them to stop before they walked right over the edge of one of the floating structures they traversed.

Kel had to reach out and grab Luke’s robes one of these times, just barely catching the warlock before he completely lost his footing. By the way he had gone completely still, staring at Kel as he held him over the edge, he’s sure Luke had wondered in that moment if he was going to just let him fall.

Thorn tells him that he should and then howls its rage into his mind when he instead pulls Luke back onto solid ground.

“Thanks.” Luke says, voice shaky.

Kel’s head hurts. “Don’t mention it.”

Twenty minutes pass. Then thirty. Only twice did they have to stop to fend off a wave of Taken-warped thrall, vicious and screeching at them as they scale and traverse the twisting and broken landscape of their King’s territory.

Cayde works flawlessly with both of them as though he’d been part of their team for years, and all the thrall and acolytes and knights unlucky enough to be in their path fall.

They take a moment to breathe after a wave of thrall clear, all acutely aware that they didn’t have many of them to spare. Tick tock, tick tock.

Luke breaks the silence first. “Anyone else a little worried we haven’t seen any of those monsters Glyph mentioned?”

“Think it’s somethin’ we should be grateful for, kid.” Cayde replies easily, flicking his wrist and dropping the empty magazine from his Ace so he can reload it.

“No,” both Cayde and Luke’s attention snap over to him at the single deathly certain word, “it’s not.”

“What’re you thinkin’, Kel?” Cayde’s hand flicks the new magazine into place within the barrel of his gun.

He struggles to find the words he wants to say through the deafening static between his ears. Thorn doesn’t want him to speak at all. “Oryx wants us to keep going. He wants us as deep into his world as he can get us.” He pauses, one of his gloved hands settling on his helmet over the crown of his head; he’s not sure why he knows this. Or how.

His fingers tighten around Thorn’s grip.

“I mean, we know Oryx wants us dead, Kel. Why not just try to kill us here?” Luke asks. He doesn’t have to mention that thrall and knights were hardly a challenge for veteran guardians that had faced them before.

He can’t make the words form, though they’re on the tip of his tongue. He doesn’t know. He does, but he doesn’t.

“‘Cause we’ll be farther from a way to escape,” Cayde supplies, and though there’s something crucial missing from the answer Kel knows that he’s dead to rights, “we find Quinn, he kills all of us at once. If he’s lucky, which he ain’t. This handsome mug ain’t dyin’ today.”

Kel needs to figure out what that crucial missing piece is. He needs to. What was it?

“Question is: why?” Cayde continues, and Kel sees him shift impatiently in the edge of his vision. He knows the answer to this question is important, just as Kel does, but he’s gotten far enough that his biggest concern is finding the woman he still hasn’t admitted he loves.

Listen to the song. You know the words. Let me sing to them, oh bearer mine. Join me, let us sing together.

“I don’t know.” Kel finally says, his tongue feeling leaden within his mouth. And it’s true that he doesn’t, but the melody between his ears is beginning to make horrific sense.

Cayde’s watching him with sharp eyes, likely trying to assess whether or not Thorn was getting its hooks into his head again—but he apparently comes to the conclusion that Kel had it under control, because he turns his back to him and then starts forward, calling for them to keep moving.

Fool.

‘Shut. Up.’ Kel thinks forcefully, his jaw grinding until it’s painful. Miraculously, Thorn retreats to an incessant buzz in the back of his head in response.

It gives him no comfort.

They move forward, minutes ticking by, until the silent thunder cracks and the roaring winds around them are broken by a single, piercing scream that causes gooseflesh to erupt all over his skin. All three of them stop dead in alarm that’s quickly replaced by urgency.

Cayde breaks into a run first, followed without prompting by him and Luke, and Kel can hear Luke muttering a staccato repetition of shit, shit, shit from beside him.

It’s as they round a colossal stone column that Glyph speaks up, having remained silent long enough Kel had nearly forgotten it was there, its voice a shrill, tinny yell of warning over the comms: “Abyssal Knight!”

Barely a second after it yells in warning a massive behemoth materializes right in front of them in an unnatural, crackling storm of something like dust or gravel. It looked like a Hive Knight in shape, but was so huge that their heads just barely reached the height of the bottom of its knees, and its chitin was soot-black and nearly invisible in the inky darkness of the Ascendant Plane.

They notice the massive blade raised above the creature’s head nearly too late.

The shockwave of the blade striking the already cracked and crumbling ground sends all three of them along with shattered debris flying; Kel feels his back slam into the jagged stone surrounding the path, the blow knocking wind from his lungs and stunning him.

On the other side of the path a blast of arc energy sends more debris scattering and Luke stumbles out of it on his knees. A few feet to Kel’s side Cayde crouches almost on his knees as well, feet dangerously close to the edge of the floating path and one of his hands curled tightly around the exposed root of a dead tree.

Shaking the daze from his eyes, Kel lifts Thorn as the Knight raises its blade again.

“Just run, you can’t damage these things!” Glyph yells at them, panicked.

The issue, Kel thinks, wasn’t that they couldn’t damage it—but that they didn’t have the time to figure out how. Was that hubris? He doesn’t care.

Reaching for his belt quickly Kel lobs a tripmine up onto the stone that towers above him, the explosive beeping only once before its sensor picks up the Knight and explodes. The Knight stumbles, and a furious roar that sounds less like a creature and more like a force of nature follows them as they push forward.

“Glyph, where is she?” Cayde slows slightly to raise his gun and fire off a few shots at the thrall that had picked an awful time to come swarming from the shadows.

“Dead ahead, but there’s more knights!”

Poor word choice.

The exo swears, word nearly lost to the horde of screaming thrall blocking their way forward and the heavy, lumbering steps of the Knight giving chase behind. “Luke, we need a path!” Cayde calls out.

Kel expects Luke to let out a whoop and a jubilant ‘let’s rock n’ roll!’, but the warlock is instead silent as electricity flares up around him, flying from his open palms and ripping through the horde of thrall before them.

It’s unnerving to see Luke without the gusto everyone knew him for, but Kel doesn’t have time to wallow in self-loathing at the fact he’d been the one to dampen it.

He and Cayde follow after Luke, single shots from their pair of hand cannons picking off whatever Hive escaped from the warlock’s raging storm. Kel turns around once to fire a shot at the Abyssal Knight still pursuing them, hoping to find some weakness, but the bullet doesn’t so much as cause it to stumble.

Echo beeps at him to get his attention just as he turns away and he pauses, watching as though in slow motion as something incandescent wavers around the Knight’s gargantuan form; an image flashes in his mind of a dead titan in a Crucible arena.

The Knight’s body shifts as it moves to strike down and Kel dives out of the way, rolling back into gear and taking off after the other two.

They can see more of the Abyssal Knights ahead, clear of the screaming thrall that Luke had successfully reduced to smoking ash. Something glows brightly in the darkness of the Ascendant Plane right in the middle of the three monsters, and both Kel and Luke immediately recognize the opaque white shield unique to their teammate.

One of the knights rears back with its weapon and slams it down on the shield, scattering the sound of cracking glass on the wind around them. Quinn lets out a scream of helpless fear from within the shield’s dome.

“Cayde, we can kill these things, do you have a barrage ready?”

“Hold on, what?” Luke demands.

There’s no hesitation in Cayde’s answer. “I do.”

The easy, unflinching trust for him to give an affirmative without even knowing what his plan was, after everything he’d done and nearly done, punches Kel in the chest. He sequesters that feeling for later, a weapon to use against Thorn when it tries to press into the depths of his mind for an advantage.

Nine bullets in Thorn’s magazine. Three Abyssal Knights.

He takes aim—three shots each, a full magazine of hungry, caustic bullets that do exactly as he had hoped they would. The three knights stumble when the rounds chew through whatever paracausal shields they had and shatter them, massive weapons slamming to the ground and making it rumble under their feet.

Cayde takes to the air with his light burning wild and unleashes a barrage of fiery knives that erupt violently over the carapace of the now defenseless goliaths, leaving them to howl as the fire of Cayde’s light rips them to shreds and turns them to ash that’s swept away by the wind.

Immediate threat to the one they came here to save out of the way, the three of them turn for the last Knight still lumbering heavily towards them. Kel reloads quickly and empties the full clip into it, his teammates hailing it with even more the moment its shields are destroyed.

Nothing but the roaring silence of the storm around them follows. It’s a reprieve and nothing more, Kel knows this even without the hissing laughter he hears cut through his thoughts.

Cayde doesn’t hesitate, immediately turning and bolting back for the center of the massive open platform they find themselves on. The opaque shield they’d seen, so similar and yet so different from a titan’s at the same time, dissipates and reveals Quinn lying prone on the crumbling stone within a small divot.

The knights had been hammering at her shield for longer than they’d been witness to, it seems.

He and Luke join Cayde.

“Hey, sunshine,” he’s saying as they approach, Ace gently set on the ground next to him as he reaches for her, “you’re alright. You’re alright.”

It seems more like he’s trying to convince himself rather than her, but Kel doesn’t mention it.

She’s pale as a sheet and there are dark circles of exhaustion under her eyes, that much more pronounced with how white she looks, and there’s a thin sheen of sweat visible over her skin even in the desaturated colors of the Plane.

Her chest heaves with exertion and she shakes with something he can’t tell between weariness or unfiltered relief that they’d found her; morbidly, Kel wonders whether Oryx would’ve become unstoppable if they’d gotten here too late, for he knew now that that is why he wanted all of them here, deep in his realm.

Power feeds power. Blade versus flesh. Blade versus Eternity. There can be no survival without teeth.

Thorn’s laughter grows louder and Kel goes stiff as he fights with himself, suddenly struggling not to lift the barrel of the gun and fire off three very specific shots.

Weight hits him and nearly throws him off balance, and Kel only realizes that someone’s embraced him when the contact somehow pushes the dark static from his mind and leaves his thoughts clear again. He blinks, looking down and seeing Quinn with her arms tight around his back and face pressed against his chestplate.

His throat feels tight; he wasn’t deserving of the silent thank you she was projecting to him, not at all, but he hesitantly wraps an arm around her back in return.

“Can you move?” He asks her, following Cayde’s line of sight when he lifts Ace at the ready. Already the Taken were swarming again. They couldn’t stay here.

She looks like she might pass out at any moment, but when she steps back he spends a moment wondering at the sheer force of will the woman had to be able to keep upright after being trapped here for so long, after an ordeal that must have drained her to the brink.

She nods, pausing when Glyph materializes briefly to shift from Cayde to her.

“Good, that’s good, because there are a lot of bad guys heading our way,” Luke says, already hop-stepping back in the direction they’d come.

“Kel, take point again. Quinn, stick close. Luke, you ‘n me bring up the rear. Move!” Cayde barks out quickly, and all of them—all four of them—take off, hoping that their path would remain clear as they’d made it.

He didn’t hold out hope, knowing that now Oryx had them where he wanted them they weren’t going to leave easy. Part of him wants to argue Cayde’s order for Quinn to stick close to him with Thorn’s possessive, dark whispering growing disorientingly loud and demanding, but he doesn’t.

It was a double-edged sword, grasping at his mind greedily and testing every ounce of his carefully honed restraint, but the only weapon among them that could damage the powerful creatures that he hoped could only exist within this realm.

Instead, Kel took solace in knowing that Cayde still trusted him to maintain his control over something that could be both their and and salvation here.

Taken swarm at them from all sides as they run, the King of this world throwing oceans of screaming and howling thrall and knights and acolytes at them to slow them down and tire them out. To stop them from leaving.

Kel understands now why the disastrous mission that Gil died on went the way it had.

It’s nothing but sheer luck that sees the four of them back to the beginning, back to the passage they’d come through and out of the choking void.

They weren’t safe, far from it—if Gil’s death had told them anything, things were about to get even more difficult.

The moment they’re out of the tight passage and into the cavernous halls and suspended platforms filled with rock and chitinous growths and writhing worms that made up the Dreadnaught, they stop for nothing, slowing only to push back against the waves and waves of enemies Oryx furiously throws at them.

By the time they make it back to the transmat zone and are pulled into the confines of Cayde’s ship all of them are exhausted—though, he imagines, nowhere near to the state Quinn likely is—and Sundance immediately sends the ship into flight away from Oryx and his throne and the Taken.

The ship makes it into hyperspace and it’s only then that all of them allow themselves to catch their breath and relax.

“How long was I gone?” Quinn asks quietly from where she’d collapsed against the hull of the ship, hands hanging limply on the ground on either side of her and legs bent unevenly where they stretch out in front of her.

“Almost two months.” Sundance answers her from within the ship’s systems, her voice soothing and gentle.

There are tears in her eyes. “It felt like so much longer.” She whispers, and then the first sob wracks her body.

Cayde is at her side instantly, pulling her against him and settling his chin on top of her head, jaw lights flashing erratically while they’re caught somewhere between his choking relief and concern. “You’re alright now, sunshine.” He says, rocking her gently while she clutches at him and cries. “You’re alright. We’re taking you home.”

Kel looks away, unable to stop the feeling that he was an intruder to the scene and wordlessly moving for the rear of the ship. He doesn’t belong here with either of them, not while the corrupting grasp of the Darkness claws at him and tells him to just end her suffering.

Somewhere between there and Earth she falls asleep, too exhausted from her ordeal to remain awake, and she stays that way even when they arrive at the Tower and are transmatted down into the hangar. Cayde carries her all the way to the medical ward, Luke and Kel both following and remaining outside while they wait to hear how she is.

The silence between them is stifling.

It’s comfortable enough for Kel, but it leaves Luke twitching and fidgeting restlessly until he speaks up.

“I don’t think even Gil could’ve held up a ward against those things after a month of...all that.” He says, the statement seemingly more to himself than to anyone else, but Kel’s helmet tilts up to him just slightly and the warlock freezes as though only just remembering he was even there.

Kel stares at him for a length, Thorn clawing at his thoughts after hours of silence and telling him to get up, to reach out and strangle Luke for daring to speak Gil’s name. Instead, he nods and evenly replies: “No, he couldn’t have.”

The look of shock on Luke’s face is absolutely worth the pain of acknowledging a still raw wound.

He won’t stay in the City. He can’t. Gil had been the only reason Kel had ever agreed to work as part of a team, the only reason he’d grown to enjoy someone always having his back while he was out in the wild.

He’d miss Quinn. He has to hope she wouldn’t lose the bright personality that had wiggled its way under his skin, and she was one of the few that acutely understood why he found solace in silence and solitude.

Deep down, he’ll miss Luke and his obnoxious, optimistic energy, too; he knows he can’t keep blaming the warlock forever, and it’s only the sharp sting of loss and Thorn’s desperate, hungry whispering that has him pointing the finger of blame in his direction.

Cayde, Ikora, Zavala, Banshee, he’d miss all of them. Shaxx, too, though he’s sure the feeling wasn’t going to be returned.

At least with Quinn back in the Vanguard’s hands, Kel could be satisfied in knowing Gil’s death wasn’t in vain.

Maybe once the wound has healed he’ll come back.

Maybe.

His thumb drags along the grip of Thorn, still hissing at the back of his skull, still urging him to rip open Luke and drink in the light he’ll bleed. It was furious at his careful restraint, frantic that it was being ignored by him ever since the debacle in the war room.

That had been the first time Kel had lost control of himself and snapped in hundreds of years since the phantoms from his first life had begun to plague him, and Kel swears to himself that it was going to be the last.

He speaks with Quinn once she’s awake again, quietly and evenly, just as she remembers.

Cayde stands nearby, unwilling to leave her side and relaying his messages and report to the other Vanguard members through Sundance. He doesn’t mention how close Kel had come to putting down the only other remaining member of their fireteam, nor does he watch Kel like a hawk as though expecting that buried rage to reappear, and Kel appreciates it more than he’ll ever be able to put into words.

She’ll find out, eventually. Luke has too big of a mouth for her not to, and once he vanishes from the Tower he knows she’ll wonder why.

When he leaves the ward and heads back through the Tower he figures it’s well enough that her last impression of him before he left for who knew how long is just the same as before the loss of his best friend ripped open old wounds and nearly changed him for the worse.

She needs the stability right now, and while that implies him needing to stay he knows he can’t. Cayde and Luke were fixed enough points on their own, and they could fill in where he’d never be able to so long as Thorn was at his side.

Eris Morn is out in the sunlight of the plaza for once and Kel stops in his path to stare at her.

She’s watching him expectantly.

“There’s no coming back.” It’s more of a statement than a question. He already knows the answer.

“Not fully.” She says, her head tilting slightly. The answer as well as her covered, glowing gaze are surprisingly lucid. “The corruption digs in, burrows into the fiber of your bones as tenaciously as we cling to this dead rock of a planet. You yet hold the weapon. It is still trying. It will continue. It will get worse.”

Worse, implying that killing another guardian and gunning for his own teammate after only a few weeks with the weapon wasn’t that bad. He supposes, compared to the pain and torment she’d suffered at the hands of the Hive, it wasn’t.

They had stolen her eyes and poured corruption into her veins.

She had stolen theirs in return, and used that corruption to exact retribution in spite of the Light now shirking her.

He nods in response; he can still feel it at the back of his mind, insistent and angry. Whatever evil the Hive had planted in the weapon, it didn’t like being ignored.

Kel glances into the distance, his eyes settling on the gargantuan form of the Traveler hovering over the Last City on Earth. “You said there was a way to sever its connection to the Hive magic controlling it. I haven’t found it yet.”

“Xyor. The moon. Slay her.” She offers him, and he looks over at her, both of them sharing a quiet moment of understanding. As he turns away what she says next causes him to stop in his tracks again. “Perhaps you will get to keep your eyes when she is gone.”

Had she just made a joke?

He blinks at her, and her head simply tilts the other way. “You will also be free of the worm wearing a dead girl’s face.”

Anyone else might have jerked back in surprise, but Kel simply curls his hands into fists at his sides. “How—?”

It’s a stupid question; all three of her stolen eyes blink slowly at him.

“I’ll silence it.” He says after a pause, wondering for a moment at just how wrong he may have been about Eris. “And I’ll make sure it doesn’t dig its claws into anyone else.” He’s not sure yet if it’ll even be possible for him to maintain control of it. But he will.

Her lips twitch into a smile so slight and so brief that Kel might have missed it. “Conviction. Eriana would have liked you.” She says, and as she returns to the Vanguard hall she leaves him with one more piece of advice: “Do not let it consume your light, and you may become something even the Hive fear.”

He watches her leave, then looks up at the silent Traveler in the distance, taking in the sight of it for just one more time.

Echo chirps at him cheerfully, confidently, and Kel leaves the Tower and the City behind.

#v: destiny #c: kel #c: luke #c: quinn leonis #ch: cayde 6 #ch: eris morn #ch: zavala #ch: ikora rey #ch: shaxx

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wildroseofarran · 5 years

Text

Call Back || Oliver, Luke, Tristan, & Gina

Tristan: Tristan pulled off his gloves and shoved them in his back pocket. His hair had escaped his bun and he needed his hands free to tame it. Could probably do with a trim.

"So I forgot to ask how it went the other day," he called to Oliver Langdon.

Oliver: Oliver was in his own little world, picking at a patch of sunburned shoulder for the tenth time that morning. How he had managed to do so in winter impressed him.

"How what went?" he called back.

Tristan: "Remember, you asked for Luke's number. Ya'll hang out?" He frowned at his arm. "When the hell did I scratch myself?"

Oliver: From the other side of the boat, he was answered with silence. Until, "You're pullin' my leg, right?"

Tristan: "No, look at this." He held up his arm. "Looks like a damn kraken tried to rip my arm off."

Oliver: "Not your fuckin' arm. The shit with that guy - Luke."

Tristan: "Oh, right. So how'd it go? Judging from the fact that you're still calling him 'that guy' I take it not well."

Oliver: His back to Tristan saved him the trouble of masking the confusion and panic. "...When did I ask for his number?"

Tristan: "Uh...a week and change maybe? What, you don't remember?"

Oliver: "No...I don't remember shit." Nausea crept into his body. Tristan wouldn't lie about something like that. But - no. He could make no logical path to his having Luke Graham's number.

"So, I asked ya?"

Tristan: "Keep telling you not to drink whatever O’Charlie’s has on tap. Probably one step above motor oil."

Tristan nodded. "Yep. You insisted and persisted until I did. I was hesitant, no offense. He's just been in such a bad way."

Oliver: Oliver frowned at his boss, tossing the dirty rag in his hands to the side. "Well, yeah...he just - the shit from before. Dunno what's wrong with that man."

Tristan: "Grief," Tristan said simply. "Pain. Uncertainty. It'll fuck up the best of us."

Oliver: "Don't make people lay on someone unconscious. That's another kinda fucked up."

Tristan: "What?"

Oliver: "When ya came t'get em. I woke up with him layin' on me, man. S'why I have em a shiner."

Tristan: Tristan's brow furrowed. "He didn't say anything about you being asleep or passed out...."

Oliver: "I tried t'kick him out n'he started in on that Robert shit. I don't remember askin' for his number, man. I swear I didn't."

Tristan: "Well unless you have a twin no one knows about, you did." Which opened up a whole can of worms about Oliver actually losing time because of his lifestyle choices but Tristan wouldn't go there. It wasn't his place.

"Maybe you decided not to go through with whatever made you ask and you deleted it."

Oliver: Oliver looked up, deadpanned expression running pale. Tristan was abandoned to his own devices, his employee disappearing below deck to his locker, to his phone.

Had he stored the number? He couldn't have lost that much -

Graham, L.

Oliver stared at his phone.

Tristan: Tristan gave a sympathetic look to Oliver's retreating back, trying to imagine losing time on a regular basis. That was the only explanation here.

He knew he wasn't lying. Oliver knew he wasn't lying. Luke knew he wasn't lying. So if they were all telling the truth...

He got started on their daily clean up. He'd go down to check on Oliver if he didn't come back up soon.

Oliver: There was no way. He clicked through messages. There were none. Recent calls? Cleared. He never emptied his Recent Calls page. He should be upstairs helping Tristan Seger. Instead, he was pacing.

Luke Graham was called, phone pressed to his ear, dropped to his hip, and returned.

"This is fucking stupid."

Luke: Miles away at the library, Luke was frozen, staring at his phone. It was on silent but he could swear that Dana's name had flashed across the screen for a moment.

He slowly set his pen down. Should wait for a call back? Call back himself? Text?

Or should he do nothing at all? What if it was Oliver and not Dana?

Oliver: "Doin' what-the-fuck-ever. Talkin' shit 'bout some fucker named Robert. The fuck is goin' on with my life."

The phone continued to ring, sent him to voicemail.

He called again.

Luke: Luke took a deep breath. Another call. Maybe it was Dana.

He made his way to a more private area and very cautiously answered.

"Hello?"

Oliver: "Luke Graham?"

Luke: Not Dana.

"Yes....?"

Oliver: Oliver held his breath for a moment, letting it escape in a sharp exhale. "How the fuck do I have your number?"

Luke: Definitely not Dana. "I...I don't--" He forced himself to relax. "I don't know. I didn't give it to you."

Oliver: "Don't fuckin' lie t'me."

Luke: "I'm not lying, I didn't give it to you. Why would I? So you could hit me again and make my relive my worst memories over and over?"

Oliver: "You're the one that was on top of me when I woke up!"

Luke: "You wer--no, I'm not doing this with you. You called me. You got my number. I don't know how but you did, and now you're calling to yell at me because you got my number."

Oliver: "Tristan Seger said I asked for it from him. I did not fuckin' do that. Just like I did not let ya lay on top of me. Stop actin' like I'm a fuckin' idiot. I dunno what game you're playin' but I'm fuckin' done."

Luke: "Tristan Seger gave you my number? Why?!"

Oliver: "He said I asked!"

Luke: "Why the hell did you ask?! For this delightful experience?"

Oliver: "I didn't fucking ask!"

Luke: "Then why did he say you did?!"

And that's when it clicked. Oliver hadn't woken up one day and asked for the number of a man be most likely hated.

Dana did.

Oliver: "I don't fuckin' know!" he all but screamed. "I wanna know why ya keep showin' up in my life!"

Luke: "I haven't gone near you in weeks!" Not unless Dana was present, and even then he never made the first move. He waited for his boyfriend to come to him.

Was that a bullshit technicality? Yes. But that was the only way to give Oliver an answer without incurring more of his wrath.

Oliver: He couldn't have the police involved. This was a lawyer. Nothing would be done anyway. He was trapped with this man in his life.

"Ya pull somethin' on me again n'you're gonna wish ya hadn't. I mean it, man. Enough." But would Luke catch the trepidation in his tone before the dial tone...

Luke: "You called me! Are you seriously threat--?!" No, he didn't catch it. He was too busy feeling his heart trying to leap out of his chest.

Luke closed his eyes. This wasn't going to work. They needed someone else to borrow.

Oliver: His phone, jacket and wallet were collected. He had no idea what that phone call was meant to yield, but so much did he want a cigarette, a joint, a beer. Something; anything.

"Sorry 'bout that," he muttered once he returned on deck.

Tristan: "No worries," Tristan said casually. He'd managed to make a good dent in the clean-up while Oliver had been below deck. "Good work today. Sorry if the whole phone number thing freaked you out."

Oliver: "S'fine, man. It ain't your problem. I'll deal with it."

Oliver looked around for something to busy himself with, already drifting into his thoughts once more. He forced himself back, picking up a large wet broom.

Tristan: Tristan nodded and continued wiping down the deck.

"Oh, want some overtime this weekend? It's not dock related."

Oliver: "What's it related to, then?"

Tristan: "Cleaning out my mama's rain gutters."

Oliver: "I can do it on my own."

Tristan: "You sure? She'll try to feed you her entire pantry."

Oliver: "I ain't gonna turn down a home cooked meal."

Tristan: Tristan chuckled. "Well, then you'll have enough food for a week and some overtime pay."

Oliver: "How about just the meal?"

Tristan: "No, come on. No matter what the work or how short the time is spent doing it, people on my crew get paid. You know that."

Oliver: Oliver sighed and stared at his boss for a beat.

"Overtime n'one meal, not a week. Deal?"

Tristan: "You're more than welcome to attempt talking her into it," he said with a grin.

Oliver: He smiled back, though scarcely reaching his eyes. "Yeah, sure."

Tristan: "All right, then. Tomorrow morning, seven sharp."

Oliver: "Your place, or here?"

Tristan: "How about my place? I'll drive us over, give you a ride back."

Oliver: "...Alright. Thanks." Why him and not someone else, he wondered.

"Ya good for now?"

Tristan: "Yep, all good," Tristan said with a nod. "Enjoy the rest of your day."

Oliver: "Kay. Tomorrow." He waved behind, lighting a cigarette as he walked away. It was time for O'Charlie's.

Gina/Charlie: For someone else in Edenton, it was also time for O'Charlie's. For a very different reason, however.

"Charles, would you tell your customers to quit judging me? I'm not drinking. I'm not drinking!" Gina added to the patrons sitting at the bar, staring at her.

And at the bump visible under her coat.

"I don't tell 'em what to do. Ain't their daddy," Charlie grunted from behind the bar. "What'd you want again?"

"The bourbon on the sticky note I gave you. I don't have it, Pete doesn't have it, the liquor store doesn't have it, The Brig doesn't have it."

"Why this one?"

"Because I have a rude guest demanding it and I'm worried he's going to do gross things to the room if we don't serve it to him."

Oliver: Oliver adjusted in his seat two stools to the right of Gina Lawson, blatantly listening in as other patrons were. He had nothing to add, but he was curious...

"Which bourbon is it?"

Gina/Charlie: Gina turned toward the man who'd spoken, hope lighting her face. "Crocodile...uh..."

"Croc Jaw Poison," Charlie supplied.

"Yes, that! Do you know it?"

Oliver: The blond twirled the unlit cigarette between his fingers. Sounded familiar. Something back during his army days.

His brows rose suddenly.

"Dark green label? Ya ain't looked everywhere. That drive through convenience store in Windsor has it."

Gina/Charlie: "Oh, thank you! You just saved my inn's reputation and my husband from having to clean up god knows what."

Gina was reaching for her keys when Charlie snatched them away. "What the--!"

"I ain't lettin' a lady in a delicate condition buy bourbon. Store won't either."

"But I need it! Want Lawrence to have to clean some man's fluids from my curtains?"

"Sit and hush. I'll send Dwight."

Oliver: Oliver stared at the owner, frowning. What a prick. But then again, she was in a state.

"Why ain't your husband doin' the askin' 'round?" he finally asked once Charley turned his back.

Gina: "He is," she sighed. "We split it up. He went to the liquor store and The Brig and then got called back by the staff."

Oliver: "Just kick the guy out if he's bein' a dick."

Gina: "Asshole booked the suite for two weeks and has been ordering room service twice a day." That was a lot of money and a lot of potential for more.

Oliver: "He's gonna, like, suicide in that room," he laughed, twirling his cigarette again.

"Ya need insurance or somethin' for that kinda thing?"

Gina/Charlie: "He better not," she said dryly, conceding defeat and hoisting herself onto a barstool.

Gina nodded. "Yep. I need insurance against anything that might get me sued." She blinked as Charlie set a coffee cup and a bowl of pretzels in front of her. "You won't let the pregnant lady buy bourbon she isn't going to drink but you'll give her coffee?"

Charlie scowled. "It's a Shirley Temple. Woulda put it in a glass but that lady was over here sayin' folks were judgin'."

He grunted again as a smile slowly broke out over her face. "Quit givin' me that look and drink it."

Oliver: "Put it in a teacup at the very least." He couldn't judge. The evidence was under his nose. He looked around anyway. Most had gone about their business. Two had yet to take initiative to fuck off.

"Ever heard of Shirley Temple? She's gotta virgin drink named after her. Ain't that somethin'? You're old enough t'know of her, right? You're like sixty."

Gina/Charlie: "Eeeeeverybody's a critic," Charlie muttered, taking Gina's drink and transferring it to the most dainty cup he had. It actually wasn't all that dainty, but it was small and almost nice. That counted for something, right?

Gina chuckled softly to herself as the last two busybodies--giving her savior the dirtiest look they could muster--finally looked away.

"Thank you," she said with a smile.

Oliver: Hell, Oliver was surprised he had even that. He looked from the cup to the man with refrained humor, seemingly ignoring the gratitude.

"Yeah? Where's mine?"

Charlie: "Keep it up, Langdon. I'll replace your beer with Goldschlager."

Oliver: "Ya won't do it," he grinned. "I'll like it too much."

Charlie: "If you do, it'll finally let me get rid of it all."

Oliver: Yeah? His empty frosted glass of beer was pushed forward, gaze steady. Challenge accepted.

"Nothing's stoppin' ya."

Charlie: Scowling mightily and never breaking eye contact, Charlie reached behind him for a rather dusty looking bottle of Goldschlager.

He cracked it open, pulled the glass closer.

Oliver: Oh, shit. He almost forgot - no, priorities. Alcohol was a priority.

"Uh, so uh. Boy or girl?"

Gina: The priority had taken the form of a full glass of cinnamon flavored nightmare fuel that had been placed directly in front of him.

"Surprise," said Gina, clearing her throat to hide a giggle fit. She patted her belly. "Little baby No Name."

Oliver: Good smile, he thought. She didn't belong here. Her husband should have made this stop.

"Ya like them noun names like February, Crystal, or Daisy?"

Gina: "No, my taste is more....marine oriented. Pearl. Marina. Ariel."

Oliver: Oh. Right. The Wayside Inn. "Ya want a girl," he pointed out.

Gina: "I wouldn't mind one. Wouldn't mind a boy either. I stray a bit from the ocean for boy names. Cooper. Elias. Lawrence. Even though actual Lawrence said no, I might make it a middle name."

Oliver: "Hmm." He took his first sip. "Elias ain't bad. What's your last name now?"

Gina: "Atlas. Lawson-Atlas technically but I mostly use Atlas."

Oliver: Another sip. "Ah. Nah. Elias won't work. Too much S."

Gina: "Fair point. What about Ariel? I like that for a girl or a boy."

Oliver: "Ari - no. He'll get the crap kicked outta him for the rest of his life."

Gina: "He would not," she laughed. "Ariel is a million times better than Drift Wood."

Oliver: "That's just a cruel spirit what named him. Ya ain't cruel enough. If anything you're too nice."

Gina: "She's not cruel just cringy. Her last name is Wood and when she found out she was having a boy she decided on Drift because it would be....I don't know, zen?"

Oliver: "N'now look at him. Bein' criticized for his existence in this here bar." Sweet golden cinnamon nectar was swallowed down. That familiar tingle in his arms was like a greeting hug.

Gina: "I heard a rumor he's going to change it, poor thing. His mama's very upset as you would imagine."

She sipped her Shirley Temple. "How's the Goldschlager?"

Oliver: "I'll be a gold statue by tomorrow," he smiled, still dwelling on that sucker Drift and his life over a damn name.

Gina: "You know he's gonna refuse to sell you anything else, right?" she chuckled. She felt an odd sense of pride that she'd gotten him to smile. Something told her he didn't do it very often.

"At least until he runs out. You really will become a gold statue."

Oliver: That laugh, and her rosy cheeks. Pregnancy glow seemed to be a real thing.

"Nothin' wrong with somethin' that'll put hair on your chest. I mean...just mine, I guess."

Gina: Another chuckle. "Or something that'll turn you back into a seventeen year-old that feels really cool drinking in the parking lot with his friends."

Oliver: "Nah. I was never that seventeen-year-old boy. I was gettin' ready t'join the army. I was out runnin' every night with a backpack stuffed with all my textbooks."

Gina: "You were in the army?" Gina could absolutely imagine him, skinny and determined, running laps with his backpack. "Are you still?"

Oliver: "Was, yeah. Retired now," he shrugged, glancing around as though disinterested in the topic.

Gina: "Those seventeen year-olds drinking Goldschlager had nothing on you." She toasted him with her teacup.

Oliver: His laugh was brief. If only she knew everything. His off and on girlfriend since high school; their drama; the daughter he wasn't allowed to see.

He tipped his glass in return.

"N'I got nothin' on your husband," he smiled, winked.

Gina: It was almost magical how her face lit up. "Well, don't go selling yourself short. Nice, strapping, swarthy men are hard to come by these days."

Oliver: "Did ya forget we're in O'Charlie's? I think ya want them men at your own bar, or maybe Pete's Place or whatever it's called."

Gina: "We are in O'Charlie's, and yet here you are." She took another sip of her drink, looking around the bar. "I always thought this place got a bad rap."

Oliver: Was she flirting back? With that in mind, was he truly being flirtatious?

"It deserves it. S'why I come here."

Gina: "No, I don't think it does." If he listened closely, he'd hear the soft, almost sad lilt in her voice. "Anyone who's ever been...in a bad way....understands why people come here."

Oliver: He could hear it, but he chose not to dwell on her tone. "It ain't always pitiable people, ma'am. Sometimes people are just born bad."

Gina: "Maybe," she said quietly. She was staring at one of the empty booths against the wall. "But sometimes something makes them that way."

Oliver: "...Yeah. Sometimes. Not all the time. Sometimes a guy just wants d'peddle drugs t'stupid people, or kids, or..." he shrugged. "There's a market for anything." And suddenly, just like that, he wanted a hit.

Gina: "Yes, there is." She sighed and went back to her Shirley Temple. "You should come by my inn sometime when you're tired of hearing Charles' conspiracy theories."

"I heard that," came Charlie's grunt from the other end of the bar.

Gina smiled.

Oliver: "Ya don't want my sort there," he scoffed, ignoring the man behind the bar.

Gina: She tilted her head. "What sort do you think you are?"

Oliver: He sighed. "The kind that come here."

Gina: "Well, I did too. And I'm allowed in my inn."

Oliver: "You're here on business. What would your husband think?"

Gina: "My trips here haven't always been on business." She nodded toward the booth she'd been staring at. "That was my table."

Oliver: "Why come here when ya got your own place?"

Gina: "Told you." She gave him a sad smile. "Anyone who's ever been in a bad way comes here."

Oliver: "Whatever it is probably wasn't your fault."

Gina: "Took a while, but yeah, finally realized that."

Oliver: "Was it a man?" he asked his glass.

Gina: Gina nodded. "Yep. This was years ago, long before I met Lawrence."

Oliver: "N'he's a different kinda man," he filled in the blanks.

Gina: Another nod. "Yep. The complete opposite."

Oliver: "M'I in the middle?" he smirked.

Gina: "I think you might be closer to Lawrence's end of the spectrum than you think you are."

Oliver: "Mm...s'a nice thought."

Gina: "It is." And her gut told her it was truth.

She smiled. "Really, come in sometime. I promise not to serve you Goldschlager."

Oliver: "Ya say that like I ain't drinkin' it right now. Have ya tried this?"

Gina: "Once. And that was enough."

Oliver: "It ain't that bad."

Gina: "Cinnamon is for coffee, not for alcohol."

Oliver: "Coffee's gotta be black and bitter."

Gina: Gina made a face. "If your coffee is bitter something went terribly wrong."

Oliver: "S'gotta be pure or I won't wake up."

Gina: "Ah, you're one of those people," she chuckled. "No sugar even?"

Oliver: "If I want sugar I'll have gum."

Gina: She laughed. "Are you a dessert person? We make our own ice cream at my inn."

Oliver: "Hmm. I haven't had that since, like... Hell. I dunno when. Childhood."

Gina: Gina's eyes went wide. "You haven't had ice cream since you were a child?!"

Oliver: "Well, yeah!" he chuckled, though the sound was more for show, caught off guard by her surprise. "Just don't have a taste for it."

Gina: "That makes me so sad. You have my deepest sympathies."

Oliver: "It's just sugar! I mean look at America. Should be praisin' me."

Gina: "It's not just sugar. Ice cream is pure happiness." If it wasn't obvious, Gina had quite a significant sweet tooth.

Oliver: "I guess it suits ya."

Gina: "It does not suit the baby. No ice cream, just popsicles and ice."

Oliver: "What, can't have milk or somethin'?"

Gina: "No, milk is fine. Cheese too. It's specifically ice cream that he doesn't like."

Oliver: "'He'? Thought it was a surprise."

Gina: "Feels like a 'he' sometimes," she said with a smile. "Sometimes a 'she'. Today is apparently a he day."

Oliver: "Nah. It's a girl. Ya keep thinkin' of girl names. It's a sign."

Gina: "You think so?"

Oliver: It's what the mother of my child did. "Mhm," he nodded.

Gina: Gina patted her belly. A girl... "I like the thought of that. Between you and me, I've been picturing Lawrence doting over a little girl. He's so patient and sweet." So completely loving.

Oliver: "But is he gonna spoil her?" he smirked.

Gina: "He totally will," she laughed. "She'd be everything to him."

Oliver: "She's gotta be a strong independent woman when she grows up, though. Can't have her bein' a daddy's girl."

Gina: "Oh, we'll make sure she is. Strong and happy and the first ever child to think her parents are cool all the way through teenagehood."

Oliver: "Ha!" he laughed. "Okay. I think you're gonna have t'lower your expectations."

Gina: "Nope, I'm determined. I just need to learn more cool things from now until she turns twelve."

Oliver: "Can't be music. All of it sucks now."

Gina: "I don't have any musical talent anyway. Gonna have to find another way to be cool."

Oliver: He simply smiled. "You'll find a way. Maybe. Probably not."

Gina: "Come on now, have faith. Little No Name here will think Lawrence and I are cool."

Oliver: "You'll be the coolest uncool parent."

Gina: "Thank you," she laughed. "The vote of confidence is appreciated."

Oliver: His attention suddenly turned to the screen above the liquor, reading the news via closed captioning. A snippet on the latest war.

Gina: Gina turned to follow his gaze. "This has to be the only bar I know of that plays news instead of sports."

Oliver: "He plays the Superbowl. Maybe even the uh, what's that channel...Spike TV."

Gina: "Oh yeah, that's true. I only remember him putting it on when that cop show was on."

Oliver: Her cup was glanced. "Want another? Or water?"

Gina: "No, I'm good. If memory serves the bathrooms here aren't an experience worth repeating."

Oliver: "Maybe they've been fixed since then?" Not that he would know.

"Speakin' of bathrooms, I'll be right back."

Gina: "No offense to Charles, but I doubt it. Best to play it safe."

Oliver: A quick nod, and her acquaintance disappeared across the bar to the men's room.

Gina: While Oliver did his business, Gina managed to talk herself into another drink. It was orange juice this time, which she knew for a fact Charlie only kept stocked for anyone who wanted a tequila sunrise.

Oliver: Oliver returned five minutes later. He plopped in his seat and rubbed his head. He sniffed with a crinkled nose and smiled.

"Lemme guess. Virgin mimosa?"

Gina: "Well hi there," she said, smiling back. "Virgin tequila sunrise, hence the grenadine."

Oliver: "We've upgraded from the teacup, huh?" he sniffed again.

Gina: "Yep. Got an actual glass this time. Charles won't serve me orange juice in anything else." She tilted her head. "Feeling sniffly? I have tissues."

Oliver: "Ah. Nah, m'alright." He checked his watch. How much longer on her drinks?

Gina: Not long at all, as Charlie gruffly informed her (and Oliver) that Dwight was on the way back with the bourbon.

"Want more Goldschlager?" he asked Oliver with a smug look.

Oliver: "D'ya actually have more?"

Gina: "Two cases worth."

Oliver: "Try and give me alcohol poisonin'."

Gina: "Well I ain't givin' it to you all at once."

Oliver: "What m'I payin' ya for?"

Gina: "A hangover."

Oliver: "Then make my migraine count."

Gina: "Don't come in here and mean mug me tomorrow." Charlie left Oliver the bottle.

Oliver: Well alright then. He poured himself a shot's worth.

"Your husband drink?"

Gina: "Not often these days. Solidarity."

Oliver: "What cha gonna drink when you're free?"

Gina: "Coffee," she said with great feeling.

Oliver: "I meant cocktails!" he smiled.

Gina: Gina laughed. "Gin martini."

Oliver: "A gin lady!" he nodded, lips downturned in exaggeration. "Fancy that."

Gina: "Yep. A gin lady who married a gin man. Only proper way to make a martini."

Oliver: "I have a friend that would agree with ya. 'Fore he was in my unit, he was a bartender. Could make anything taste fruity. M'a simple man. I drink alcohol, I wanna taste alcohol."

Gina: "Gin doesn't taste fruity, it tastes....herby." She smiled. "Martinis are pure alcohol. Gin and vermouth and you're done."

Oliver: "I am drinking the cinnamon n'gold untouchable. I know what gin tastes like," he laughed. "I've tried it all!"

Gina: "Even the obscure bourbon Dwight's bringing for my demanding guest?"

Oliver: "Mhm. Reminds me of hickory."

Gina: "Is it worth sending two expectant parents and Dwight on a wild goose chase through two counties?"

Oliver: "If the guy was gonna trash the place, it shoulda been handed over t'the cops."

Gina: "He didn't explicitly say it, just heavily implied it."

Oliver: "What's done is done, I guess."

Gina: "Yep. Luckily his stay is ending soon."

Oliver: "Don't let him back. Your place is magically always booked."

Gina: Gina laughed. "It might just be. It actually will be soon. I have two weddings back to back."

Oliver: "Hmm. I don't get marriage, really. No offense t'you n'yours."

Gina: "None taken. Doesn't always work for everyone. For some it's pure hell."

Oliver: "N'then they cheat, or hate each other, n'ya wonder what they ever loved 'bout em t'begin with."

Gina: "Yep," she said with a nod, sipping her drink. "Seen my share of those."

Oliver: "This your first rodeo?"

Gina: She shook her head. "Second rodeo."

Oliver: "So ya know of love lost."

Gina: She nodded. "I do. And then some."

Oliver: "What makes the next guy any different?"

Gina: "When you've seen bad, you recognize good."

Oliver: "Maybe," he returned half-heartedly.

Gina: "Well, if you manage to pick yourself up you do."

Oliver: "Well, you're lucky."

Gina: "I am now," she said softly, absently running her belly.

Oliver: "First child?" he asked.

Gina: There was no response for a few long moments before Gina shook her head. She offered nothing more.

Oliver: Not worth touching whatever that was. He simply nodded and sipped his drink.

Gina: Gina gave a silent thanks to the heavens that he accepted her answer and didn't press for more. That was the most comforting thing about O'Charlie's to her; nobody asked anything.

"What about you? Got anyone you're seeing?"

Oliver: O'Charlie's also meant getting little from the questions you did ask. Or the opposite, hearing a story for the good part of your evening.

"Not really. Ya know, dates, I guess."

Gina: "That's good," she said with a smile. "You should bring your next one to the inn. You'll earn so many points."

Oliver: "Tryin' t'hook me up with someone already?"

Gina: She chuckled. "Even if I was, I don't know anyone to set you up with."

Oliver: "Mhm." Too clean and well-mannered for me. Your friends wouldn't want some medically retired infantryman.

Gina: "But if I do find someone...." She let her voice trail off and smiled.

Oliver: "I'll be holdin' my breath."

Gina: "I accept your challenge and you'll have a date by the end of next week."

Oliver: "No I won't. You're wild on shirley temple."

Gina: "My skills are many and powerful."

Oliver: Just humor the woman. "Alright. Like I said... holdin' my breath."

Gina: She grinned. "I'll reserve a table at the inn for next Friday night."

Oliver: Jesus. He swallowed down his drink hard. "Hey now, you're gonna - ya can't - you're gonna raise your friend's hopes up too much."

Gina: "Impossible."

Oliver: "Ya just met me. Err to the side of caution." When a man tells you he's bad news, listen.

Gina: "Fair enough." She suddenly blinked. "You never told me your name."

Oliver: Didn't I? Maybe I've already had one too many.

"Oliver Cole." He offered his hand.

Gina: Gina smiled and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, Oliver Cole. I'm Regina Atlas. I go by Gina."

Oliver: His hand was rough and uninviting compared to hers. Labor verses the life of a business owner. He felt the gap between them widen another inch.

"Gina," he nodded.

Gina/Charlie: "Yep, unless you're Charles or Peter Graham. They call me Regina."

"Dwight's back, Regina," Charlie said, right on cue.

Dwight was indeed walking up to the bar, holding up a bag.

Oliver: Goodbye, pretty woman. Wait. "I'll walk ya t'your car."

Gina: "Thank you. And thank you, Dwight. My curtains thank you also." She finished her drink and took a deep breath.

"Help me off the stool first?" she asked Oliver.

Oliver: "Yes ma'am." How much was all this? "I got her drinks," he muttered to Charles. He offered his hand once on his feet.

Gina: "Oh, you don't have do that." Gina took his hand in one of hers and braced herself on the bar with the other to hoist herself up. "God, this is getting harder and harder."

Oliver: "Probably 'bout time t'make the husband do all the work n'ya keep on keepin' on with makin' your daughter. M'still gettin' your drinks."

Gina: "We're starting to make that transition. Been taking half days and doing all the office work." She took a moment to find her center of gravity and gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you."

Oliver: "Mhm," was his version of 'you're welcome'. Money was placed on the counter for both of their tabs. Whatever change was leftover would be chalked up to tip.

"Ready?"

Gina: She gathered her purse and the bag and nodded. "Yep! Thanks again, Dwight!" she called over her shoulder.

Her small, light blue SUV was parked as close to the door as she'd been able to manage.

Oliver: Oliver shrugged his old weathered jacket on at the door, breathing in the frigid air as soon as a breeze hit him.

"Ya have a good night now, Mrs. Atlas."

Gina: Gina gathered her coat around her, grateful she hadn't taken it off. "Thank you, Oliver, you too. Better buy a nice shirt for your date."

Oliver: "We'll see, won't we?" He was heading to the road. He knew he'd had too much to drive, and was on the lookout for... something. Someone.

Gina: "Yes we will," she said with a smile. She got into her car and started it up, watching him walk away for a while as she let it warm up. She was going to find him a damn good date.

But first, she had business to take care of.

{Text to Lawrence} Got the bourbon! On my way back

#Call Back thread #olivercole #ginalawson #lukebgraham #tristanseger

3 notes · View notes

bussanbaby · 6 years

Text

As Alec walks into the New York Police Department, the first thought that hits him is that this place is so much more lively than the Institute. For a simple errand, he’s decided to forego the total glamour, settled for only hiding his runes, as that is more convenient; Luke doesn’t have to make it look like he’s talking to something other than air, while Alec can just pose as a friend that swung by to chat. He almost fits in with his dark get-up between all the navy uniforms, and nobody really pays attention to him, which he’s glad for.

He slinks past the information desk, tips of his ears still subtly burning from the flirting debacle months before, then does a casual jog up the stairs to the first story. His senses are overwhelmed by all the noises and visuals around him - fax machines robotically spit out paper after paper, phones ring in unison from different corners of the floor, people chatter about cases and daily life; Alec has to constantly sidestep out of someone’s way, once or twice doing the awkward waltz where both people move in the same direction.

He manages to find Luke’s office after walking through labyrinth-like corridors, all laden with wood-paneling and illuminated by yellow-tinted lights hanging overhead. Everything here reminds Alec of those old cliche crime novels and noir movies Magnus has a soft spot for, even the ‘Det. Luke Garroway’ written in bold lettering over the rippled glass in the door. With a perfunctory knock, Alec peeks his head inside, almost expecting to find Luke in a beige trenchcoat and with a cigarette between his fingers, the off-white smoke curling in wisps towards the ceiling.

Instead, the werewolf is sat at his desk with his feet up on it, a cup of what Alec assumes to be coffee in his hands. When he sees Alec, he smiles wide, with a wave of a hand welcoming him further in.

“Hey, man, good to see you,” Luke says, setting down his mug and straightening up before shaking Alec’s hand, cold from the autumn chill outside.

“It’s been a while,” Alec answers, unzipping his coat and searching through the leather messenger bag hanging on his shoulder. “You should come by more often, Magnus has been complaining about you missing cards night last week.”

In quite a short timespan, Luke has gone from an associate Alec worked with out of convenience to a close friend and basically family at this point, an unmovable fixture in the Lightwood home. Through all of the harrowing events in their crazy lives, he’s been there from the beginning to the end, a loyal and dependable man that has stolen Maryse Lightwood’s heart with his steadfast strength and that charming smile.

Magnus has once told Alec over a glass of wine that he’s glad they’re all friends now, and Alec couldn’t agree more. Secretly, he and Magnus have been planning to ask Luke to ordain their wedding, but so far there hasn’t been a good moment for that; it doesn’t seem right to drop the bomb on him just in the middle of a case or over a quick beer at the bar.

Luke rolls his eyes with a chuckle as he accepts the files Alec hands him, segregated neatly into three manila-colored folders.

“I’ll make it up to him, I promise, cross my heart and all that.”

He starts thumbing through the files, eyes flicking over lines of text and attached photos; Alec watches him for a bit, perched on the edge of his desk, but finds it awkward to stare so his gaze starts to wander about the office.

He’s not here often, so he takes in the dark decor, the other desk he passed earlier, much less cluttered than Luke’s, a brown leather jacket draped over the back of the swivel chair. The din and chaos of the station are subdued here, reduced to a steady murmur; the fan above their heads makes a soft noise each time it turns, just lazily pushing the warm air around.

“How’s Maryse?” Luke inquires, aiming for casualness, but missing the ballpark entirely; Alec knows how much time these two have been spending together lately, going on small little dates, holding hands when nobody is looking, and eating dinner together during Luke’s breaks at the precinct. And Alec’s glad for it, he really is, as he hasn’t seen his mom this happy in what feels like forever. When she smiles now, she glows, radiant and more beautiful than when she ever was with Robert.

She’s in love and how does Alec know that? He looks at Magnus the exact same way.

“She’s good, although a little stressed.” Alec senses Luke’s eyes on the side of his head as he glances down at his linked fingers. “She’s filing for divorce next week. I’m sure she’d enjoy your company.” He adds meaningfully, looking up with a soft smile tucked into the corner of his mouth.

Luke smiles as well, pleasantly surprised with Alec’s words. “You’re okay with me getting together with your mom?”

Alec shrugs, running the pad of his thumb over the ring on one of his fingers. “You make her happy, so why wouldn’t I?”

The werewolf sighs, mouth slack as if he’s weighing what to say next, but it turns into a grin he tries to hide by looking down at the files again - Alec can see his eyes crinkle at the corners, the way they do when he laughs at his own dad jokes; when he’s happy.

After a moment, Luke closes the file he’s been browsing through, an air of seriousness hanging between him and Alec.

“I’m glad,” he says earnestly and before it can get too sappy, he adds, “Also there are probably the most detailed mortuary reports I have ever seen in my career.”

“I’ll make sure to tell Izzy,” Alec chuckles, pride curling in his chest at the praise of his sister’s work. Since she’s back and healthy, she’s been working harder than ever before, picking up new responsibilities and basically becoming Alec’s trusted right hand.

“I’m gonna go give these to the evidence folk for comparison, be right back,” Luke announces and as he passes by, he cordially claps Alec on the shoulder and then the shadowhunter is left alone, yet not for long.

After a minute or two, the door creaks open again and a woman walks in, head bowed down in focus, holding a conversation with a person on the other side of the phone stuck to her ear.

She seems familiar, all tall frame and long brown hair - at first Alec can’t quite put his finger on it, but he quickly realizes she is Luke’s snooping partner. Alec has seen her during the Azazel case and later when they had to deal with the fallout from when she found out about the Shadow World. They debated how to deal with her having proof of the existence of NYC werewolf packs during the weekly council meeting and in the end, they’ve decided against clearing her memory (again), since it was just a matter of time before she’d be back sleuthing.

For the first few weeks after she and her partner were sworn to secrecy, they were monitored just in case something slipped out, but aside from bombarding Luke with tons of questions about, well, everything, she’s been staying low and not meddling with any more affairs.

“We have some suspects for the Harley case, but I can’t tell you anything solid before the analytics lab gets back to me about the substances found at the scene.” The woman - Ollie - looks up, sensing someone is in the room with her. Her eyes narrow at Alec and a mix of barely concealed curiosity and distrust settles in her expression, her whole body tensing up for a possible fight.

“I’ll call you back,” she barks out and ends her conversation. With the phone still by her ear, she moves her arm towards the holster sitting on her hip, gun secured inside.

Alec placatingly lifts his palms to shoulder level, just on the right side of amused. While it wouldn’t be difficult to move out of her aim with the help of his speed rune, Alec’s never been too fond of firearms in general, too unpredictable and destructive for his liking.

“I’m just running an errand for Detective Garroway, none of that is necessary.”

Ollie visibly relaxes, but that last thread of wariness is tightly woven into her posture as she lets her cell clatter onto the desk, choosing to lean against the back of her chair instead. She observes Alec and he allows it, only cocking up a questioning eyebrow.

“Are you a werewolf from Luke’s pack?” Ollie asks without any preamble; Alec appreciates the straightforwardness, but he can understand why Luke sometimes looks like he just got done with a six hours long interrogation.

Alec shakes his head with a quiet chuckle. “No. I’d tell you what I am, but that’s against the law.”

“Are you really giving me the old ‘if I told you, I would have to kill you’ spiel? I’m not-” Ollie stops abruptly in her tracks as realization dawns on her face. “You’re not kidding, huh.”

“Nope.”

Ollie is about to ask another question, undoubtedly one Alec can’t answer either, but before that can happen her phone starts ringing, the vibrations shaking the entire surface of the desk. Involuntarily, he glances at the caller’s ID which shows the name ‘Samantha’ on top of a selfie of Ollie kissing another woman on the cheek, one with darker hair and a wide grin.

She hastily grabs the cellphone and swipes across the screen, strands of hair flying into her face. The conversation is mostly one-sided, only interrupted by Ollie’s hums of acknowledgment; she doesn’t seem to realize the soft smile inching its way across her lips. As much as Alec tries not to stare, he can’t help but notice how different she looks with her guard down, how the caution directed at Alec falls away to reveal a gentler side.

“Yes, I’ll buy cookie dough. No, I won’t forget. Yes, I know I’m the best. Love you.” She hangs up and smiles sheepishly at Alec, caught in a moment of weakness in front of a stranger. “That was my girlfriend, Sammy,” She adds as an explanation, and while her voice is still friendly, Ollie stands a little taller, her chin tilted up defiantly.

She’s silently challenging Alec to call out her choice of words, to doubt her relationship like most of the world; Alec feels like he’s seeing himself in a strange mirror, all the moments in which he introduced Magnus as his boyfriend, held his hand and kissed him in public. He used to be scared, but not anymore - now he’s proud to love Magnus and ready to fight anyone who disapproves, shoulders squared and eyes intense.

“Don’t worry about it. My partner does something like this too, he calls me to make sure I ate something other than granola bars and coffee.” Alec says with a faint laugh, but this is more than a relatable moment - it’s two people from entirely different worlds finding a connection, encountering the intrinsic solidarity that comes with similar experiences. Alec might already like Ollie just a little bit more, no reason at all.

The atmosphere between them warms and Ollie pulls out her chair, sitting on it the wrong way around, forearms resting across the back.

“Oh, that’s sweet! What’s his name? Tell me something about him,” She inquires like an old friend, chin propped up on a palm and interest gleaming in her eyes.

Usually, Alec would cut her investigation short, but there’s a certain pleasure that comes from talking to others about how great Magnus is, so he indulges in it, more open than he’d usually be - especially to a Mundane.

“His name is Magnus,” Alec speaks slowly, picking through all the information about the love of his life that’s stored in his brain, from how many sugars he takes in his tea, through all the important dates to all the painful confessions. “He’s a little bit older than me, has a great fashion sense and is the most incredible person I’ve ever met.”

Ollie coos teasingly at Alec’s sappiness, then laughs when he rolls his eyes. “How long have you guys been boyfriends?”

“Over a year now.” Alec folds his hands together, thumb running against the smooth gold of the ring. It’s been a couple of months since Magnus has proposed to Alec and slid the band onto his finger with utmost reverence, kissing him breathless after.

Sometimes, Alec still can’t believe it all happened - turning to see Magnus down on one knee, his golden eyes filled with love and devotion, hearing ‘Alexander, will you marry me?’ and getting to answer with ‘Yes, yes, of course I will’, because there was never a doubt in his heart.

Alec shakes his head to get out of his thoughts and back into the real world before he looks up at Ollie. “You know, we got engaged. So technically, he’s my fiancé.”

It feels so good to say the words out loud, hear them ring through the room with pride. There are moments when Alec glances over at Magnus doing something entirely ordinary and the need to tell the entire world about their love skyrockets until he wants to climb the tallest NYC skyscraper and shout it from the top.

The smile on Ollie’s face grows tenfold and she draws a little closer, pushing herself over on the swivel chair.

“Congratulations are in order.” Head tilted to the side, Ollie juts her chin towards Alec’s palm. “Could I see the ring?”

With a nod, Alec stretches out his arm and Ollie lightly takes hold of his palm, turning it slightly this and that way. He’s almost used to it by now, after breaking the news to his closest people so many times, whether alone or with Magnus at his side. They compliment the ring and tell him how amazing it is to see both of them so happy, how bright Alec’s eyes are and how much he has changed. And he loves it all, he really does, preening on all of the praise, taking in their unwavering support and joy over his and Magnus’ prosperity.

Ollie admires the ring with a complicated expression, delighted yet wistful in a way, almost longing.

“I’m happy for you, Alec.” She tells him quietly, swallows around the next words. “I hope I get to be in your shoes one day.”

Alec’s heart gives a painful tug and he sighs, pulling his hand free to set it on Ollie’s forearm, squeezing gently.

“You will, I’m sure.”

At times, it feels like all hope is lost, but Alec now knows that it’s important to fight for his own happiness, even when the world seems bleak. Despite people telling them nothing could be done, he and Magnus didn't give up, didn't throw in the towel when troubles weighed down their shoulders. They’ve made it so far and they keep going strong, already setting next goals to achieve.

“The ring is engraved and do you know what it says?” Alec pauses for dramatic effect, a lopsided smile bright on his face. “Amor vincit omnia. Love conquers all.”

A comfortable silence falls across the room as Alec takes his hand back, once again starting to play with his ring, a constant reminder of his contentment, his home, the stability it brings. If someone told him that one day he’d be telling someone else that it does really get better, that dreams of loving freely are achievable, he would laugh and call them insane; yet, here he is.

Ollie sighs, eyes downcast and thoughtful when she rises from her seat, then wanders back to her desk. She raps her ringed knuckles against the wood and then leans her hip against it, obviously gathering the right words to say next. “Should I be expecting a wedding invitation anytime soon?” She quips, but there is a thankful note to it, an answer given without obvious words.

“I’ll try to squeeze you in between all the magical folk already on the list,” Alec jokes back.

Their conversation is interrupted by Luke, who freezes in the doorstep, at first just looking between Alec and Ollie as if he can’t believe they aren’t at each other’s throats yet, or at least haven’t started digging the trenches to hide in. With a short, pleased hum, Luke smiles to himself, crosses over to where Alec is to hand him another bundle of files.

“These are all the evidence reports relevant to the case. I thought they might come in handy, see if you can make any connections.” He informs Alec, voice lowered for the sake of privacy and Alec nods in response, halfway through putting the documents in his bag where they’ll be safe and sound until he can drop them off at Izzy’s desk.

They both look up to Ollie watching them conspicuously, clearly not interested in any personal boundaries as Alec has realized long ago. He and Luke share a knowing look and Alec stands up. “I’ll be going then. Luke, see you later?”

“You got it. Say hello to your mother for me.”

Alec gives a two fingered salute to both of them as he moves back towards the door. When he passes by Ollie’s desk, she shoots him a conspiratory wink, like there’s a secret only the two of them are privy to. As the door closes behind him, Alec can hear Ollie ask about his mom and the first half of Luke’s heavy and pained exhale.

It’s been a productive first half of the day, Alec thinks - he surprised Magnus with breakfast in bed, held a meeting at the OPS Center, met Maryse for coffee amongst all the other things, and perhaps the most important one of all: he made an unlikely friend.

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old-long-john · 6 years

Note

Hey Laura would you be willing to talk more about those John Silver gender feels?

Sure. Thismight be a bit disjointed and weird, because I’m not sure I fully understandthem, but I’ll try to lay them out in some kind of coherent way. Also, if thisall spells out something blatantly obvious to anyone then I guess I don’t mindif you say so, because various words and labels do float around my brain fromtime to time, but I’m not about to undertake any huge personal re-evaluationsor re-labelling or whatever else, because I just don’t have the energy forthat. So yeah. Although it’s entirely possible this is all a huge mess ofnothing that’s any different to anyone else, which would be vaguely embarrassing.

This stuff isby no means limited to John Silver/Luke Arnold, or even ever present with him,but I think partly because of the way I’ve projected onto Silver a huge amount andnow largely write and think about fanfic (and the show) from his viewpoint,these sorts of feelings have slipped into the mix as well. So sorry if thisgoes off on tangents that weren’t what you wanted to know at all, but the moreI think about it, the more I remember things that tie in and ways in which thisreally isn’t about him specifically. I’m gonna put most of this under a cut,just because it’s quite long and personal and I’m not sure how I feel aboutputting it right out there on people’s dashes.

Basically,all of that classic wlw stuff where it’s sometimes difficult to distinguishbetween girls you’re attracted to and girls you want to look like or be like, Ialso experience quite a lot with men, and he’s one of them. I have it even morestrongly with people who are a certain type of androgynous, which is probablygetting straight to the heart of the matter really. There’s a certain look that Silver/Lukeoften has that falls right into the type that messes me up: (big) long hair,facial hair, reasonably muscular arms and legs, and a masculine-but-soft-ish,grungy kind of style.

The waySilver looks mid-S2 is probably the most intense instigator of these feelingsfor me (though any time his hair is down in S4 I get it badly too.) It’sattractive, but it’s also in a lot of ways what I want for myself; thebit of face scruff, the toned, veiny forearms, the wide shoulders, the narrow waist under the big belt, and themuscular thighs. He moves in a masculine way too, and he has that deep voice,and I like those things in the same confusing mixture of ways.

I’ve dressedin a pretty masculine way for a long time, but I’m always kind of disappointedthat my frame doesn’t pull off the look the way I want it to. I almost always wearmen’s hoodies, tank top style tops, sports bras, close fitting dark jeans, belts,and converse or boots. That’s my look. But I want to be taller and harder andmore angular. I want to be stronger. Most of the time I don’t like being softwith round edges, but I do like that I’m naturally quite muscular underneath it.I don’t hate having boobs, but I don’t particularly love them either. I wish Icould take them off for 99.9% of the time and maybe just put them on forspecial occasions. I’m just glad they’re not bigger. I don’t exactly dislike being awoman, but I feel deeplyuncomfortable when I think I look too performatively feminine, like I’m goingto be ‘found out’ as a fraud or people will assume I’m something I’m not. I don’teven know where to start with the fact that I enjoy manual labour partiallybecause I like how it makes my hands rough and calloused and cut up, and itgets dirt so embedded around my nails that it doesn’t come out for days. I’mcareless with my hands when I’m on an excavation (I’m anarchaeologist in theory) because I want them to look more masculine and be less soft.

Tbh, for along time I’ve had a slight obsession with wondering what I’d be like if I wasa man. If literally everything was the same, except I got the Y chromosome frommy dad instead of another X. What would I look like? How would I present myself?What looks could I pull off? Would my personality be the same? Would I fancythe same people? Would I be ignoring confusing ‘do I want to be or be with’feelings about women? And if we lived in a world where it was possible tochange your sex or just your appearance back and forth at will, I thinkI’d spend a lot of time either as a man or at least as an androgynous,masculine looking woman. But not all the time. And that’s kind of the most confusingpart. I regularly wear mascara and eyeliner, I sometimes wear lipstick, and I keepmy nails pretty long when I’m not digging (which is most of the time). Thereare multiple ways I often like to look and feel feminine. It’s such a mixed upmess that it’s hard to pull apart. Honestly, that photo of Ezra Miller with hishair piled up and his adorable patchy beard and with lipstick on too is somehowgoals. But without the dress.

I thinkSilver really plays into all this because he both embodies a lot of the ways Iwant to look, and he also looks some of the ways I already do look. I think wehave a fairly similar face shape, and similar eyes, and somewhat similar hair (mine’sfar less curly, but it’s big and unruly and about the same colour when it’s notdyed), and he’s also fairly short and muscular in that maybe attainable kind ofway that someone like Jason Momoa (who I get it with a little) is not. I think actually, subconsciously, hereally fits into my brain’s ideas of best version male me, and I find it verycomfortable and kind of a release to put myself inside him when I write fics.It’s like playing dress up with a different imaginary body, with all thedetails filled in for me, and a conveniently familiar personality through whichI can express myself in different ways.

On top of allthat, while my memory can be pretty spotty for short term things, my long termmemory is actually very good. So I remember vividly the way I felt about developingfacial hair and a little happy trail when I was going through puberty, before I internalised all that societal bullshit aboutwhat women are supposed to look like. I liked both of them. I liked happytrails on men, and so I liked how it looked on me, because I didn’t really knowyet that I wasn’t ‘supposed’ to have it. The older I get, the hairier I get,and I’m torn between hating it because I’m meant to be a woman and I don’t look‘right’, and feeling weirdly validated by it because it’s like my body wants tobe more masculine too.

I’m not sure whether I’m making the best job of explaining this, but it’s because I’ve spent along time kind of glancing at these feelings and just accepting that they’rethere without actually looking harder at what they all mean when I put themtogether. I’ve also not bothered delving too far into what kind of tumblr-esquelabels exist that could encompass it all, because I’m worried if I settle onsome kind of label for what it is (if it is anything at all beyond ‘you’re justtomboyish, dude, get a grip’) then it’ll only become another thing that the mirror doesn’treflect and my dissatisfaction over the way I look will have new specific and excitingbranches to explore. It’s not just that I don’t look a certain way, it’s alsothat I can’t make myself look very different in any direction. The way I lookisn’t flexible. I always just look like a short, chubby woman. My face alwaysjust looks like my face, only sometimes the lips are a different colour or myeyelashes look longer. I still hope my face will get more angular as I getolder, but it’s not like I’m a kid anymore. I’m almost 30. If I had a beardthough, I’d treat that thing like a god damn etch-a-sketch. I could change myface drastically on a whim. Which is maybe why I’m kind of overly fascinated bythe way Silver’s look shifted so significantly throughout the series.

I’m probablyforgetting obvious stuff, and I’m omitting some other stuff, but Ithink that covers a lot of it. Hopefully it makes some kind of sense. This isprobably a lot more than what you were really asking about, but Silver isessentially just the latest focus (and avatar, really) in a long line of thingsthat fall into this pattern.

#personal #welp that's out there now #other queer stuff?#not sure why anyone would but please don't reblog this #I might delete it later #Anonymous

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okimargarvez · 5 years

Text

A NOT TOO SECRET ADMIRER

Original title: Un ammiratore non troppo segreto.

Prompt: at the same time Luke and other man court Penelope.

Warning: none.

Genre: comedy, family, friendship, romantic.

Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez, Matt Simmons, Phil Brooks, BAU team, O.C.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: oneshot 50 in Garvez collection.

Legend: 💏😘🔦🎈.

Song mentioned: Il regalo più grande, Tiziano Ferro.

GARVEZ STORIES

A NOT TOO SECRET ADMIRER

The man puts the mug on the table and turns his head towards his friend, who perceives what he is about to ask. -So, what about your colleague?- but he still pretends not to have understood.

He takes time. -What do you want to know?- he asks in the most neutral tone he knows. The other doesn’t let himself be discouraged. A giggle is heard in the background, coming from the third bystander, which for now just assists without comment.

-You know.- says the first. -Penelope is already dating someone?- is so easy to notice that light turns on in the eyes of the man with Spanish features when he hears the feminine name. The first one turns to the Asian. -Matt, do you know something? It seems that this one does nothing but work.- Luke is about to protest, but nothing comes out of his mouth.

-For what I know, she's not dating anyone.- Agent Simmons replies quietly. Then a smile appears on his lips. -Are you interested in her?- from the corner of his eye, he sees the annoyed expression of his colleague.

-Yes, she is an extraordinary woman, very nice... and beautiful.- the first, the one with African-American features, admits without problems. They might seem a table emerged from an immigration office, and instead they are all three 100 percent American and often keep us point it up in the course of their work. -I saw her only twice, because Luke always has a good excuse to avoid combining another meeting.- he rebukes his friend, who cleverly decides not to reply. A good silence was never transcribed, Matt thinks.

-O maybe he doesn’t want because he likes her, too.- he points out with studied nonchalance, grabbing the glass in front of him to take a sip. As expected, Luke tries to defend himself.

-What are you saying, Simmons?- big eyes, almost more agitated than the time a girl was about to stab him in the back. -It's obvious that I like her, we're friends, she's part of the team.- he tries to sound convincing, but even if his best friend Phil is not a profiler like them two, it's since he has know him that he can read his mind.

Simmons is not discouraged and exchanges a significant look with the other federal. -But I meant in another sense and you know it well.- there aren’t even malicious nuances in his sentence, nor insinuations, because it is a pure and simple truth that doesn’t need to be enriched in any way.

-What?- Luke says, moving his chair backwards and shaking the table. -I like Penelope more... more than a friend?- he seems to have pronounced a dirty word, or worse, a blasphemy. But his eyes, more and more frightened, are enough to betray him.

-Matt is right.- Phil says. -In fact, I suspected it myself, the first time they came to bring me Lou.- he begins to tell. -You should have seen it. He hugged her, held her by the hips, and then by the shoulders, and smiled...- Agent Alvez finds himself dragged back into the past and he seems to feel again those sensations, as it was nice to hug her without the need of overcome a tragedy (like the death of Walker), or an absurd fact (like the denial of the bail to Spencer) -They were both smiled.- he comes back to the real world, in time to catch the glimpse of his best friend. For a moment Phil thinks to take his hand. Maybe he would have done if there hadn’t been Matt and if it was more late, with a few drops of beer... -Luke, brother, why did not you just tell me that you had a crush on her?- he asks with all the simplicity of the world. Of course, because others always make it extremely easy. They aren’t the ones who have to face their confused feelings almost every day, the shame of always appearing to be stupid or an ugly insect before her eyes... -I would have stopped tormenting you.- he concludes, spreading his arms.

-I don’t...- he tries to say, but is interrupted by the colleague.

-Do you want to deny it?- his dark eyes are those he uses when he conducts an interrogation and the technique works. He finds himself signing the surrender after not even half a minute.

-No, you have won.- a series of dramatic sighs. -I don’t deny it.- he repeats, to make clear his defeat. -But it doesn’t change much.- he starts again with a petulant tone. -Phil, if you want, you can still hit on her, because I don’t have a chance.- the same conviction of his friends when they said that he liked Penelope in a sense very different from simple friendship; and they were right, but there is a small detail to add: she doesn’t feel the same for him. -Maybe you are more lucky.- he looks at the bottom of his glass.

-What are you saying, what is this melancholy and depression?- Matt tries to shake him. -You must at least try, do something, and then, later, if it goes bad, you can be depressed.- he tries in every way to instill a bit of rationality, he can’t bear to see him so surrendered, he is grown attached to him in a short time, they understood each other immediately, perhaps because they both belonged to the military world. For him, especially on these occasions, he feels a bit like a sort of older brother. -But it will not be so.- he reaffirms convinced. -Trust your friends.- not being able to shake his hand, he is satisfied with a pat on the shoulder.

-Your colleague is right.- Phil helps him. -You're a hunter, Luke.- he reminds him. -Study the prey, think about how to smell the ground.- all very tempting, as if he had never thought of it, to use the resources learned in previous experiences, with her.

But then, he hadn’t had the courage. Some provocation, some flirting, but more he couldn’t hazard. -And how should I do?- he says but doen't leaving time to answer him. -The only step forward I have done is that now she calls me Luke or Alvez, and no longer Newbie.- a great victory, perhaps. Because since she had stopped using that nickname, the moments when she seemed to want to try something with him or... flirt, were decreased. -About the rest... she still keeps me on my toes.- and he doesn’t mind, but he doesn’t add it. He prefers to undergo such treatment rather than being like any other colleague for her.

-Yeah, she teases you.- Simmons agrees, chuckling. -It's fun enough to see, you know, Brooks? You're missing a real show.- even the other man bursts out laughing, not struggling to imagine the scene.

-I am glad that my misfortunes amuse you.- Luke comments, not too resentful. -Anyway, even Tara often makes fun of me, but I don’t think she likes me in that way.- he sees a possibility of getting out of it, not entirely losing. -Or it’s not so?- but he is assailed by doubt. -What do you think, Matt?- the other doesn’t let himself be fooled.

-I understand what you want to do, but you will not be able to confuse us.- he says, with a half-smile on his mouth. -Tara teases you like a sister, while Garcia... with her there is also malice, there is another kind of interest.- he doesn’t feel to have to add more details, although he would be ready to discuss a thesis on this topic. Maybe he talked a little too much with Kristy.

However, something not completely expected takes place. -Do you also mean for her part?- Luke asks, with a voice so full of hope, and that look, how can Garcia have resisted so long to that look like a puppy that would also compete with that of Roxy? This is the real question to be answered.

-Yes!- he cries almost, he barely holds back. -I can’t believe you didn’t notice...- he interrupts the sentence in half and looks at Phil, who does the same. -No, I believe it.- both nod.

-And then what should I do, ask her out?- he asks, torn, torn by fear and hope that now began to sprout in his heart. -However, there are so many cases that we wouldn’t even have time.- a convenient escape, this. The most valid he has found to prevent himself from acting until now.

-I would try a nice old courtship.- Simmons suggests. -According to me Garcia would like it.- this time his smile is genuine. -It seems to me exactly that kind of girl.- Phil nods with conviction.

-I agree.-

As soon as he enters through the glass doors, he sees her in the dining area, alone; he walks in the direction of the woman. -Good morning.- he says, the voice that miraculously doesn’t tremble leaves too much imply of what he feels.

-Good morning, Alvez.- she says, continuing to give him her back. It seems, however, that she was able to read in his greeting much more than he himself imagined. -Are you in a good mood today?- she asks him, turning her head slightly, just to give him a quick glance. Man strives to keep his eyes at the height of her neck and no longer low.

He swallows. -Yes, I decided to try and take things differently.- it is a very difficult task to follow. She wears a fiery red dress that frames her body so to say almost illegal and he knows that the sight of red increases heart beats because it reminds of the blood... and that's why it's hard not to gasp, for nothing else.

-Good, there is hope for everyone.- she comments, turning off the stove and placing the kettle on a table. She notices the cup containing a dark liquid in the hand of the colleague and doesn’t hold back from making another joke. -Do you know that someone who drinks black coffee, pure, without milk or sugar or anything else, is potentially a serial killer?- it wasn’t a lie, she had read it in some magazine... or someone had told her. At that time, she had laughed.

But at that time there wasn’t a man like Luke staring at her so ambiguously. -Well, you don’t seem to be afraid of being alone with me.- he points out, moving to her table, but without ever breaking eye contact.

The blonde can hardly do it, fiddling with the sachet in the teapot. -Yeah, because I know another person who drinks coffee like that.- she replies with a moment of delay. For a few moments she thinks he will ask her about who is that person, but then he changes his expression and, it seems, but it could also be just an impression, he comes closer.

-And about who drinks tea, what do they say?- he asks in a soft, velvety tone that makes her shiver a little. Luke doesn’t seem to have noticed, luckily.

- Depends, there are millions of different tastes of tea.- she incredibly manages to answer him. Before speaking, the man looks at her intensely, too intensely, but it is not the first time he does it, and afterwards there have never been great consequences, so Garcia is forced to face him.

-About who drinks peach tea in an octopus-shaped cup.- he adds, emphasizing every detail, but always continuing to penetrate her with his eyes.

And she finds the usual way out. -You are too funny, Luke!- she says giggling. -For a moment I thought you really wanted to know.-

***

That same evening, by O'Keef, Luke is intent in his reflections on his accomplished hazard, his first real step towards something concrete, when he feels touching on the shoulder. He raises the head and sees that it is Matt.

-So, lady killer, how is it going?- the friend immediately says, sitting down.

-It’s going.- he decides to be cautious. -I made the first move, and I'm waiting to see the results.- but he can’t hold back a half smile, because he really hopes that this is the right time. How can he go on, otherwise?

It doesn’t take long to influence the colleague. -Oh yes? What did you do?- he asks him. -Come on, tell me, I'm curious.- he insists. Luke seems to read the thousand hypotheses that run in front of the operating system of his brain. -Kristy infected me.- he tries to justify himself, just blushing. -But I will not talk to her about it.- he is already making the gesture of the oath, then his honesty prevails. -Perhaps.- he adds, in a lower tone of voice.

-Ha ha.- he pretends to find the thing funny. -This morning when I arrived there was only her and we talked about... tea.- he rolls his eyes, embarrassed as if he was telling him who knows what. -So I did some research and I found something that I think she'll love.- he smiles, again. He doesn’t want to reveal more, because deep down, in his veins, Latin blood still flows and it is known that it carries a pinch of superstition.

-From the way you are gloating, I really hope so.- Matt gives him a pat of congratulations and encouragement at the same time. Then he raises his eyes over Luke’s shoulders. -Hey, the girls are coming.- he warns. Luke turns and sees that he is right. -Garcia seems to me... different.- he says in a voice quite low, while the female team of the BAU is approaching. -Happier than usual.- he concludes.

-For me she's always beautiful.- Luke comments, spontaneously, automatically. -Oh, fuck, did I say it out loud?- he opens his eyes wide and covers his mouth as if he could take it back.

Matt can barely hold him in the face. -Yes, you're done.- he has just the time to say; the arrival of the girls prevents Luke from replicating anything and must be limited to fulminate him quickly with his eyes. -Good evening, ladies.- he greets them with a warm smile.

-Hi Matt, Luke.- the head of the BAU says. Luke, however, remains focused on the dazzling figure of the computer technician who, after greeting them with her hand, is going to the counter to make their orders.

-Where are Rossi and Spencer?- JJ asks instead immediately, worrying about the absence of her best friend, known, among other things, also for his punctuality.

-I know Rossi had a date with Krystall, while Reid... I have no idea.- Simmons replies with a shrug.

Tara seems lost in her thoughts, then, suddenly, approaches them, up to be only a few inches from Alvez. -You two were confabulating something; you have a conspiratorial air.- she decrees. The two men look at each other, before returning to stare at their colleague and show their best innocent expression.

-Us?- Matt asks, but he is ignored. Dr. Lewis continues to focus on Latin. He seems stranger than usual.

-Yeah.- she nods. -Hey, Alvez, Roxy got your tongue?- feeling called by name, the man emerges from the waters.

-Huh?- he replies with a confused and strange look. As if he had just come out of a daydream. And indeed, he was forced to divert attention from the subject of his desires, just in time to avoid being noticed.

-You're a bit overweight.- the friend points out, sitting next to him. -Is it not that you found a girl?- in the meantime the others have taken their place, and, case or fate, Garcia is sitting just parallel to him. He feels too much attention on himself.

-What?- he blushes to the tip of the ears. -NO!- he protest a little too hard. You don’t need to be an investigator of the mind to understand that there is really something cooking. Tara squints, peering at him.

-But we can say that there are works in progress.- another male voice intrudes.

-MATT!- Luke screams, worsening his situation.

-Oh, there must be something in the air, then.- JJ comments. The girls giggle, all except Penelope. And now it seems they are the ones who are planning how to sneak into the coke factory and steal the recipe.

-Why?- Simmons asks for both.

This time Emily answers. -Nothing, do you know Colornì, the one who works at the second floor?- the image of a man a little older than them, light hair, green eyes, nice, as well as federal agent who works only a few floors lower than theirs, crosses Luke's mind. He doesn’t understand the connection.

-He helped us with the case of the Bern Strangler.- he says, at the height of his naivety. Instead the friend has already begun to follow the dots and to guess the final image that will appear. -What happened to him? Is he getting married?- the first thing that comes to his mind. He doesn’t notice an exchange of looks between the two blondes.

-No!- JJ exclaims. -Perhaps it happens that someone at this table has a not too secret admirer.- she concludes with a tone of voice full of malice.

-A secret admirer?- Matt already knows how the evening will end and tries to help him as much as possible.

-He and Penelope have chatted a lot and he has also asked her to going out.- their leader says in fact very diplomatic and quiet. In order not to reveal too much what he thinks of this information, Luke digs a fingernail in the palm of his hand, concentrating every part of his brain on that feeling.

-But for now she gave him a nice two of spades.- Tara says, who does not seem to have ever stopped to keep an eye on him.

-You like to keep him on his toes, don’t you?- JJ provokes her. -It doesn’t seem to me, however, that his attentions bother you so much trouble...- she continues in the same tone, until Penelope feels obliged to defend herself.

-Hey, I just want to not rush.- an excuse, but only in part. -It's quite a while since I'm not on the market.- she adds innocently. -I'm a bit rusty.- she concludes, with a shrug, considering the speech closed and focusing rather on her drink.

But Simmons thinks differently. -And then, why secret admirer?- maybe he really has to stop discussing the love life of his colleagues with Kristy.

-Because he gave me a very strange thing.- the blonde replies, before one of her friends can do it in her place, making it seem most ambiguous or full of meaning of what it really is. -A supply of tea bags, a different taste for each day of the year.- she announces, letting a small smile peep over her face. Matt almost chokes with his own saliva, reacting in place of his friend.

-Hey, Matt, are you okay?- Emily asks. He only nods and makes a gesture with his hand.

-I didn’t think he knew me so well.- Garcia continues, unaware of the damage that is causing. -In fact, I think the next time he will ask me to go out I will say yes.- Matt can almost hear the sound of the heart of Luke that breaks in thousand pieces. -He really surprised me.- so, with any excuse, like a nice little match of pool, between men, he takes him away.

-Hey, Luke, why did not you tell her the truth, that you gave her that gift?- he asks as soon as they are far enough away, putting an arm around his friend's shoulder, who is walking like a zombie.

-No.- he replies, struggling to get back to a standing position. -What would have been the point?- he gesticulates and the other notices the wound in his hand. -She is convinced that it was Jules... that's okay.- he decrees, positioning himself on one side of the pool table.

-Do you intend to give up on the first try?- Simmons tries to encourage him. -I didn’t think you are so weak, Alvez.- this time doesn’t work, because he feels exactly like that, when it comes to addressing his own feelings for Penelope: a nullity.

-See, the fact is that I haven’t only sent the package, but I added a note with some phrases of a song.- he confesses with a broken voice. -I thought she would recognize my calligraphy.- he adds, arranging the cue with chalk, while the friend does the same.

-Why the hell didn’t you sign it?- he asks after taking the first shot.

Luke observes a red and a blue balls going into the hole. -Because... a little because I'm cowardly, and then I really thought she would understand.- he doesn’t ever look away from the green fabric, striking his ball and watching it end up in the area where there are no companions. He sighs. -I had no idea that Colornì, that traitor, was already spinning his web...- already, now he regrets having found him nice, also because of similar experiences that they had shared, but then he emerges from his own egoism. -But I can’t blame him.- any non-committed man would fall for her.

Matt makes his own shot and then goes around the table. -Hey, Luke, you don’t have to beat yourself up.- he strokes him on the shoulder. -Even for you it was hard to admit what you feel.- he tries to remind him. -Promise me that you'll do at least one more attempt.-he adds with a much harsher tone, as he returns to his side.

-Only because otherwise you would call Phil as reinforcement.- Luke immediately surrenders. -It was wrong to make you two know each other.- he adds.

-You said it.-

****

She hears footsteps approaching her, steps heavy enough for her to sense that he is a man wearing boots, hypothesis not compatible with Spencer or Rossi, and Matt warned that today he would be late because he had to accompany his wife somewhere. So, she expects to know the identity of the mysterious man, but she is wrong. -Hey, Penelope, how are you?- she recognizes the French accent of Jules and she jumps.

She takes a second to regularize the heartbeat, then turns to him. -Very well, thank you.- she replies, adding a polite smile. -And you?- the man takes a step in her direction, diminishing the distance between their bodies.

-Better, now that I saw you.- he says, evidently flirting. -Would you like to eat something with me for lunch?- he asks her. His attentions, as noted by JJ, certainly don’t bother her, on the contrary, they make her feel flattered. And he's definitely a handsome man, too bad that...

-It seems like a nice idea, but we have to see if there will be a case.- she replies, showing herself available but diplomatic and not overly enthusiastic; she doesn’t want to delude him, she knows what it feels like and it's not a good feeling. -You know how it works.- she adds, spreading her arms as if to say that it is not her fault.

He nods. -Yes, unfortunately.- the sad expression. Then a sigh. -And speaking of work... I have to go.- another step, closer and closer. -Have a good day.- he says to her, before setting a kiss on her cheek. She greets him with her hand, quite blankly by this gesture. It's since Morgan's gone that a man didn’t kiss her like that. -Hello, Alvez.- she hears him says. She moves her eyes and sees her colleague walking in her direction.

-Hi, Jules.- Luke says, then he takes the place of the other. -No tea, today?- he asks, the voice full of malice but also something new, maybe anger, as if he was angry with her for something she did. And the same are telling her those eyes.

-I didn’t do it yet, I'm a bit distracted.- she finds herself answering, strangely compliant, not replying with one of her jokes. Then, noticing that Luke doesn’t seem to want to stop staring at her, she adds: -What's the matter, would you like a cup?- and unexpectedly he nods.

-I wouldn’t mind.- he says. Why does something suggest that they are not talking about beverages at all? However, she turns to the stove, goes down to take his teapot, moves to fill it with enough water for two cups, also extracts her own, in the shape of an octopus, and one with printed image of a dog on it. She caresses it for a few seconds with her fingers, before putting both on a table, like a perfect maid. All the time, the man remains silent, almost recording her every gesture.

-So... you and Jules...- he begins. -I didn’t expect it.- Penelope sighs, preferring to concentrate on avoiding spilling hot liquid. So, she allows herself to look him in the eye.

-Yeah?- she asks, feeling the re-emergence of the Garcia that she had been with him in the early days. -Would you have seen me better with someone else, more like you, for example?- the joke dies immediately, because Luke seems to look at her in shock. -I'm joking!- she hurries then to add, giving him back and stretching to reach the locker where all the tastes of tea are conversed, now greatly increased thanks to the gift of her not too secret admirer. -What flavor you want?- she asks him in a neutral tone. Still, she is sure to feel his gaze on her body.

-Tamarind.- he answers in a tone too ambiguous, strange.

-Oh, interesting choice.- she comments, continuing to act as if this were her real work. - Anyway, with Jules nothing has happened yet.- she finds herself saying, without knowing why. She adds less sugar than usual and passes to him the sugar bowl a little too brusquely.

-But is about to happen.- he replies with the same tone, while their fingers touch each other. -He asked you a date.- he says, as if she had forgotten, and again, he seems almost angry. -I haven’t eavesdropped, but I have a developed hearing.- he justifies himself before she can start accusing him of not making his own business.

-Whatever you say.- she sighs, but something pushes her to continue that speech. -Anyway, yes, but we'll just go for lunch together.- she wants to specify, as if the fact that it takes place during the day and not in the evening doesn’t make it a date in all respects. Luke doesn’t seem to agree. -If a case doesn’t arrive. she adds. -It means nothing.- but why the hell is she trying to convince him more than herself?

-For now.- Luke continues to insist, turning his attention away from the cup to look at her.

-Yes, for now.- she echoes. A silent pause follows. Then Luke suddenly blurts out.

-However why you were immediately sure that it was he who gave you that gift?- a good question, especially because... if it were so, how to explain the fact that she hadn’t thanked Jules for the gift so much liked, that showed how much that person knows her? Perhaps because she hoped the author was another?

And then, more than the gift itself, those words. -Well, there was also a note, a song by Tiziano Ferro and he had told me that he liked a lot...- she says in fact, before doing something even more unexpected. She puts herself to sing those words. I would like to give you a gift... something sweet, something rare... not a common gift... of those you lost, never opened, left on the train or never accepted... of those you open and then cry, that you are happy and you don’t pretend... This day of mid-September I will dedicate you... my greatest gift... I would like to give your smile to the moon because, at night, those who look at it may think of you, to remind you that my love is important. -And then... he's the only man who has showed interest in me, recently.- she adds, suddenly stopping, and truncating the refrain in half, so abrupt enough to make him jump.

When he resumes, he moves a little further towards her. -The only one, are you sure?- he asks, completely inclined in her direction.

-Yes.- she answers firmly. -You know something I don’t know?- a flash in his eyes.

-Not really.- he answers while drinking his tea, a taste that he doesn’t like and that he said only to demonstrate his knowledge in terms of variety of tea, just to throw a hook so that maybe she could understand that Jules wasn't her admirer... he hears a very familiar beep. She looks at her cell phone and sighs. -Let me guess. We have a case.- he smiles.

-Why it seems to me that you are not so displeased?- Garcia even notices. Luke shows one of his most innocent expressions.

-Just your impression.- he replies, hiding the crooked smile behind the cup.

-Mmm.-

*****

In a hotel room, the lights off, you can hear an unspecified dialogue.

-So, what did you think?- the Asian man asks to the other, who is in the bed next to his.

The latter sighs. -I bought tickets for a show. I heard her talk about it with JJ.- he explains, trying not to think about the fact that Agent Colornì was in Quantico, in the same building as her, while he is far away miles. -I hope we will solve the case before Saturday evening.- he concludes. A smug giggle.

-You'll see, desperate lover.- he adds, trying to get serious again. -Tell me this time you made things clearer...- Luke nods, but he can’t see him.

-I left her only her own ticket and I wrote to her that she will find me in the next chair.- a theatrical thing and so old-fashioned, as he had suggested. He is so excited at the idea of seeing her face when she will realize that the one who left that invitation was nothing but him.

-What show?- Matt asks him. However hard he tries, he can’t remember the title.

He leans over to the backpack, begins to rummage, always in the dark. -Wait, I have it here, the ticket, not to lose it I put it...- but it's not even in his wallet. The light is switched on suddenly. -But where is it?- he asks desperately. -I put it here, I'm sure.- he throws the contents of his bag around the room.

-Hey, Luke, stay calm.- Matt tries to reassure him. -You may have left it at home. When we come back you will look.- but there is no hope.

-I have a bad feeling.-

******

Evening, a table from O'Keef. This time, the first ones to arrive are the girls.

-So, how's it going with Jules?- JJ is the first to start the subject that matters to all of them. But after all, she pushed her into Kevin's arms at the beginning of their story, so she feels that this is a part of her.

Penelope fiddles with the lemon slice in her drink. -I don’t know, he surprised me again.- she admits, yet her tone doesn’t seem too enthusiastic. -He bought tickets for La Traviata.- she says. -When I arrived, he was already there, waiting for me. It was a nice evening. He's very different from any man I have dating before and... You'll know nothing more.- she decrees, just before the rest of the team reaches their table, Luke included.

-Guys, you're late.- Emily scolds them, moving to make room for Rossi.

-And you, Spence, tell the truth!- the blonde says. -Are you coming out with a girl?- she asks him hopefully, practically forcing him to sit next to her.

-JJ!- her boss shouts, pretending to be scandalized.

-What?- she asks, without any shame. -You all want to know.- she accuses them and no one feels like replying.

-In any case the answer is no.- the young doctor replies, with her total disappointment. - I'm preparing for a new FBI course. I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure of making it.- he admits, showing insecurity that seems unusual to him.

-Oh, Spence!- JJ exclaims with a sweet tone, caressing him slightly. Tara turns to Agent Alvez, who again is suspiciously too quiet.

-Luke, what's wrong? Roxy is sick?- she doesn’t feel like teasing him until she knows the real reason for this behavior.

-No.- the man denies with a flat tone.

-You look sad to me.- his friend insists.

-Tara is right, what's happened?- Simmons also says.

-Nothing, Matt, really.- he answers both. -You know, I was wrong to go out tonight.- he adds, before standing up. -I should go home.- but two pairs of arms on each side force him to return to his seat.

-No, what the hell are you saying.- Matt blows. -You need to take a break. Let's play a pool match.- and he drags him away. -So?- he then asks impatiently.

-Did not you know?- he answers with another question. -Penelope and Jules went out together, went to see La Traviata.- he explains, halfway between anger and disappointment. -Jules must have found my ticket.- it's the obvious deduction he'd got to when, Friday night, just back from the case, he has turned his apartment inside out. -Fuck!- and he understood that he lost him in the locker room common to all federal agents. And who he had crossed, at the exit? -What's the sense of insisting?- maybe he's asking to himself. -If she’s fine with him...- he shrugs and this time doesn’t even try to pretend to want to play seriously at the pool table.

-Again, Luke?- he takes him by the shoulders. -Looks I really need to call Phil.- he threatens him. -They came out together once and then?- he shakes him. -Come on, it's not over. Instead of mysterious gifts you have to go straight to the point.- it's almost an order. -Ask her to go out. You'll see she'll say yes.-

*******

A few days later, Garcia is thinking if she shouldn't skip her tea ritual for once, when she hears those obviously male steps, boots, and this time she know who is the owner. -Hello, Penelope.- Jules says. Yes, he's very nice, funny and cultured. He knows a lot about theater and music, and it's nice to chat with him.

-Hello, Jules.- she says, again that smile on her lips, this time less for education and a little more for spontaneous happiness to see him.

-How are you- he asks. He is also polite, she continues to mentally list his merits. He likes animals, even if it's not that they have really talked about that topic.

-All right, you?- he makes a strange expression before answering.

-Me too, especially when I'm close to you.- again, he expressly flirts with her, it's not a game, there's no prey or a hunter, he showed her the cards in his hand and now she has to decide.

-Oh, you're very nice.- she only answers him. It seems to her to hear the sound of other steps, but...

-You are much more...- Jules tells her, then approaches even more, gently takes her shoulders and lays a kiss just as sweet on her lips. Penelope doesn’t kiss him back and her eyes remain wide open; that's why she notices Luke, his shocked expression, his hands opening up, dropping something to the ground, before he leaves, almost running. That's why she chases him, breaking away from the kiss, which actually lasted less than three seconds, and leaving poor Jules high and dry.

-Luke, Luke, what the hell, stop!- after a few steps she's already out of breath. -Do you have no pity on a woman with heels?- she asks, even hazarding a joke and feeling on her lips the taste of another man, not what she would like. If only she had known, what he wanted to do, she would have stopped him. She didn’t want to delude Jules, even if she can't exclude a priori that one day she might fall in love with him, but... but first she would have to get rid of another one.

Luke stops but continues to give her the back. -What do you want?- he asks in a low tone, almost a growl, which should frighten her. She reaches him and touches his arm.

-I think you lost this.- finally the man turns to her and observes his package. He sighs. He never looks her in the eye, seems to want to convince himself that she doesn’t exist.

-Thank you, you shouldn't have bothered.- but she doesn’t move an inch. -Seriously.- he adds then, moving away the package and who holds it.

-What’s wrong?- Penelope manages to force him to look at her. -Does the idea that a man could seriously feel something for me upset you so much?- she asks him, even giving him a little push on the chest to make sure he is hearing her. But he catches her by the wrist, without tightening too much, without hurting her.

-No, Garcia, you didn’t understand anything, ok?- he says, unbalancing her. -Go back to your Canadian boyfriend, he misses you.- and he seems willing to start walking again, even he doesn’t even know where to go.

But the woman doesn’t give up and follows him. -First of all, it's not my boyfriend and then it's not Canadian, it's French- she is going back in time, in front of an elevator, someone had just become a BAU member -and then... he kissed me.- the last sentence has the power to stop him.

He turns in slow motion towards her. -Oh, but you didn't certainly walk away.- it seems almost a reproach and his voice is bad. -Do you like him, what's wrong with admitting it?- why he wants to force her to say something that's not true?

-Jules is nice, but unfortunately for him, there is already another guy that I like.- then she decides to say, looking in his eyes, clearer than hers, and he can’t help but does the same.

-Oh yes? So why did you accept his court?- without realizing it, he lowers his head slightly towards hers.

-I... I don’t know, I thought the man I like didn’t like me ... the man for whom I have a crush.- she admits. -But now I'm not so sure anymore.- one more step in his direction.

-Why?- he asks her only, almost a whisper, looking at her eyes and then at her mouth.

-Because he seemed a bit too jealous.- Penelope is tired, if this is not enough to make him understand that the man for whom she has a crush is him, then she just doesn’t know what else she has to do. But Luke naturally shakes his head.

- I'm... I'm confused.- she sighs, disappointed.

-Do you want to ask me something?- she says, to fill a void that would feel her only more embarrassing and worse than she is now.

-Yes, in fact...- in her disappointment Luke seems to read something that gives him hope and courage to tell her the truth. -I wanted to ask you if you wanted to take a walk with Roxy and me.- and he would have done it, if he hadn’t been anticipated by Jules. It was something quite neutral, but it could lead to other developments, especially after opening the package.

-And this box?- Penelope asks him, doing to give it back to him.

-It's just... just a thought, something...- he shrugs, just blushing.

-Luke, was it for me?- she asks directly, serious tone and intense look.

- Yes, it... it’s still.- he stutters. -If you want it.- he smiles.

-I'd like to go out with Roxy.- she says.

-Really?- but it is a rhetorical question. -Do not you think that your mysterious man could get jealous?- she would have willingly slap him, how could he not have understood that she was talking about him? But in the end his naivety is part of his charm.

-I would say no.- she says convinced. -And would it bother you to kiss someone who's just been kissed by another person?- Luke doesn’t seem to understand at first.

-What?- he asks, in fact, then, the light comes on. -Uh, no...- she grabs him by the shoulders, moves her hands on his neck and he finds himself lowering his head.

-Sometimes you are really naive...- she reproaches him, before kissing him, for a long time, immediately reciprocated. It’s hugged to him that she opens the package, discovering its contents: knitting material. And she's sure she never talked with him about that passion. Perhaps to support the intensity of the woman's gaze, Luke finds himself stuttering.

-Penelope, I... I should tell you something... Here, you know, that collection of tea?- she nods. -And the tickets for La Traviata?- another nod with her head before she decides to help him and release him from the embarrassment of a confession.

-Yes, it was you, right?- she strokes his cheek. -And also the song. It seemed like your calligraphy, but, you know I told myself that someone like you... well...- it's his turn to shake his head. He cradles her, resting the chin on her hair.

-You never have to think such a thing. You're fabulous.- he whispers. -Even my best friend was crazy about you.- he confesses, cursing his big mouth.

-Who, Phil? Seriously?- he nods, then hugs her.

-I love you. I know it's not a very creative declaration but...- she interrupts him.

-It's perfect, it's right... The greatest gift you could make me.- they laugh together softly. -I don’t need anything else. I love you too.- they share another kiss.

-Love as big as the time that didn’t give up, love that speaks to me through your eyes, it's you, it's you, it's you, my greatest gift.- Luke concludes, singing in a low voice.

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