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glitterygayvodka · 4 years

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Yellow

Note: Omg hiii everyone!! I know that it’s literally been a billion years since I’ve written anything and I’m so sorry for that. Over quarantine I got inspired though so this piece is going to be the first installment of my color series! For every color red through purple I’ll have a story involving Harry and Y/n’s relationship. Thank y’all for being so kind and patient with me. I love you all and I hope you enjoy! My requests are open as well as my inbox in general if you have any questions/comments/concerns. Thank you!! Kissy - 🧡✨Kylei

Warnings: None!! This is all fluff but there’s a wholeeee lot of softness so gear your heart up :))

Yellow is the color of warmth and harmony. Yellow feels like the soft caress of sunshine on your skin, the taste of fresh mango on your tongue, the pleasant aroma of steaming chamomile fluttering against your nose, and the cheerful song of canaries in the early hours of spring.

For Y/n, yellow is a feeling that is almost incapable of being put into words. She feels yellow most often on nights like these, while tangled up with Harry as the sun begins to retire. Yellow is the gentle whisper of his fingers against her back, almost as if he’s writing poetry against her skin. She feels tranquility wash over her as she gazes up at him through relaxed lids, basking in the peaceful sound of his voice as he narrates the newest book they’ve been reading together.

Y/n grins happily as Harry uses different accents for each character, slowly sliding her arms around him and further entangling their legs under the cool and crisp sheets. Yellow feels like plopping onto your bed after a long time away from home, and not to be cliche, but Harry had started to feel like home for Y/n. She found refuge in his ability to be his authentic self with ease, and with him there’s never any pressure for her to be something that she isn’t. Their relationship is a safe haven; one where they can express themselves freely and openly. Their differences and similarities alike connect them in ways neither of them ever imagined.

Y/n finds herself studying him as he reads, admiring him in the same way an art historian admires a Monet. His lashes flutter gently against his tan skin as he blinks, his eyes the color of fresh sage in the hazy lighting of their shared bedroom. Her eyes follow the curve of his nose, down to the beautiful outline of his plush lips. Y/n has always been entranced by Harry’s lips. Their soft pink color conjures the image of delicate cherry blossoms to mind, and the way they wrap around syllables as he speaks mesmerizes her. She can’t help but to stare as he continues to read in his slow, deep, drawl. Eventually, Harry feels her gaze on him as he breaks his focus to look down at her with a puzzled yet knowing smile, his lips sandwiched between two endearing dimples.

“S’there something on my face Princess?” he inquires with humor in his voice, placing a bookmark between the pages and slowly closing the book. Y/n blinks as she emerges from her trance, her gaze moving reluctantly from his lips to his equally enticing eyes. She holds his gaze, bringing a hand up to brush a stray curl away from his face. “Nooo,” she laughs with a shake of her head, “I’m just admiring you.” Harry can’t help the flutter in his stomach at her words. Her laugh a melody that he was sure he could listen to for the rest of his life. He pulls her up his body with a giggle of his own after gently placing their book on the nightstand, her thighs falling on either side of him with her bum resting comfortably in his lap.

They sit in a peaceful silence for a moment, looking into each other’s eyes. Eye contact has always been something that both of them cherish. It never felt uncomfortable or forced between them, even in the very beginning. The feeling that runs through them while looking into each other’s eyes is hard to label. It’s almost as if their souls are communicating anything that’s ever been left unsaid. The intensity of their connection never fails to send a shiver up Y/n’s spine, or to cause a rosy blush to warm up Harry’s cheeks. She wraps her arms around his neck, her fingers gently intertwining with his soft curls. Harry lets out a peaceful sigh as Y/n runs her fingers through his hair, taking the time to scratch his scalp occasionally. He lets his eyelids droop in pure bliss, relishing in the aura of the beautiful woman in his lap, who chooses to be with him over anyone else. He can’t say that he’s surprised however, because it often feels like the two of them were made for each other. Two pieces of the same puzzle that make a perfect fit. Harry wasn’t someone who usually believed in fate or destiny, but after meeting Y/n, it didn’t seem so unlikely that certain events were just meant to be, or as Y/n would say, written in the stars.

“What’s on your mind lovely?” she inquires softly, her fingers leisurely making their way up and down his arms and shoulders, stopping every once in a while to trace his tattoos, paying extra attention to one of her favorites; the butterfly. A murmur of contentment slips past his lips, his hands caressing the familiar silhouette of her waist, giving her hips a tender squeeze as he languidly opens his eyes once more. Harry stares at her for a moment before speaking, his eyes committing the blueprint of her face to memory. “M’just thinking about how much love you brought into my life,” He sighs with a gentle shrug of his shoulders.

Y/n can almost feel the sincerity of his words within her bones, his loving tone sending shivers throughout her body despite the warmth of the room. She’s quiet for a while, allowing her thoughts to marinate. Her fingers glide over the delicate string of pearls he had yet to take off, before her gaze slowly returns to his. “Hear my soul speak. At the very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly to your service.” She quotes with a coy smile, her fingers continuing their path along his body.

Harry’s eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, a perplexed look overtaking his features as he studies her goofy expression. He begins to replay her words in his mind, when suddenly, the realization hits him and he lets out a loud chuckle with a shake of his head. “Did you just quote Shakespeare to me?” He inquires, his tone a mixture of playful annoyance and genuine humor. Y/n lets out a chorus of her own laughter before nodding, a beautiful smile adorning her lips. “Did you expect anything less of me?” She questions, her eyes glinting playfully in the soft lighting. Harry shakes his head yet again, moving his hands from the comfortable position on her waist to intertwine their fingers. “Well, I was actually expecting a kiss,” he grins cheekily, “but the surprise visit from Shakespeare was very enlightening.” He finishes, his thumb caressing the back of her hand lovingly.

Y/n’s body shakes with laughter at his words, and Harry can’t help the huge smile that plasters itself on his face. He could live in this moment, with this beautiful soul, for the rest of his life. He had never felt more genuinely warm, seen, and loved in his entire existence than he did while with Y/n. The love constantly radiates off of the both of them in waves, reaching anyone and everyone who is open to experiencing their magic. As Y/n’s laughter finally begins to subside and he helps her wipe away any happy tears that happened to betray her, Harry’s heart feels beyond full. “Okay I have no idea what came over me!” She breathes, slightly out of breath in the way that only a good laugh can induce. “I guess you’re a comedian and I’m a nerd, so where does that leave us?” Y/n giggles, bringing her gaze back to him with laughter glossed eyes.

“Hmmm,” Harry ponders, slowly intertwining their hands yet again. “I guess that means you’ll always have someone t’quote literature to, and I’ll always have someone t’laugh really hard at my bad jokes.” Yet another smile makes its way to his lips, and Y/n giggles again with a squeeze of his hand. “Well then!” She sings, releasing one of her hands from his to cup his cheek, bringing her face closer to his. “Aren’t we just the perfect pair?” Her question has a playful tone and he can feel the warmth of her breath against him, her eyes moving between his gaze and his lips.

“We sure are...” he murmurs, his hands following her lead, one moving forward cradle her face with the other gently resting against her throat. Harry can feel her pulse quicken with his actions, and it makes him smile to know that she still has this reaction to his touch. Their eyes flutter closed as they move even closer, their lips finally brushing against each other as delicately as if it were the first time. Harry deepens the kiss, the faint taste of mint and honey lingering on her tongue from their nightly bedtime tea, and Y/n relishes in the intoxicating feeling of his soft lips against hers. A long time ago, Y/n realized that soulmates are yellow.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #one direction imagines #harry smut

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franklyshipping · 2 years

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I just love the idea that instead of going on dangerous missions where the heroes could get hurt, instead the do things that law enforcement doesn't bother with. Like bike thefts or people stealing old ladies purses, or how you mentioned before with getting kittens out of trees.

Silver defo prides himself and maybe takes it a little too seriously, making him seem a bit arrogant, but he genuinely thinks he's helping. Hence why any super villains around would actually just be someone from the manor. Oh and he dramatizes his stories.

"I was pinned between two of the most evil villains on the bus today! They had bags full of groceries that they probably stole and were definitely cooking up some evil plan. And just as i confront them. BAM! WHAM! They attacked me! I barely made it out alive! One of them clawed my suit and now i have to sew it! Thankfully i stopped them and returned the groceries to where they belong"

Cue host and yan raising their eyebrows, in reality all three were on the bus and silver was in between them and because they're little shits, squeezed his sides the entire bus ride while he held in his reactions, and then had him carry the groceries in in one trip cause he strong

Defo takes his job seriously and doesn't like being made fun of, (not counting little jokes here and there, you know what i mean) and gets excited to talk about his routine or what happened during the day. Probably was a point where he was closed off to others for his own reasons, having to "protect the city" and you mentioned he has had issues with an ex before and his image. Probably the first time he got tickled (probs by jackie) he tried to be all "i'm a grown up! This is childish!" Hence why baby talk gets to him all the time. But now he is one of the biggest lees out there who is getting in touch with a playful side.

Jackie seems to be more of a PMA hero, going around spreading awareness, also doing small stuff like silver rather than anything big, though due to his spreading awareness he has been on kids shows a couple of times (yes silver does admit he gets jealous that jackie gets to be on tv and he can't, but it's nothing against jackie himself and instead encourages and celebrates for jackie!) He gives off switch vibes honestly.

Jackie probably discovered silver was ticklish after noticing silver looking upset after jackie finished up being on tv for a kids show and they were both stubborn, silver not wanting to say anything and discourage jackie, and jackie wanting to help out his crime fighting partner. Eventually, Jackie won and they talked and hugged.

How silver discovered Jackie was ticklish was probably after being teased about it and poked randomly in front of others (jackie probably did it in front of the egos a lot so more egos would target him, after knowing that he "doesn't mind it') silver probably had enough and got jackie with a "THAT'S IT GET OVER HERE!" Defo acts like an older brother to jackie when lerring, especially with how RUDE jackie can be!

Anti defo tries to test their friendship by trying to get them to squeal about the other's spots. Most of the time they refuse to ever betray their partner (unless they deserve it or being playful) but a boop on silver's button or a nibble to jackie's thigh and they sing like canaries.

Also sorry for this being so long! I was just the one idea and then i was getting more ideas and since i was already talking about the heroes might as well

OMFG DON'T APOLOGISE

THESE HCS GIVE ME LIFE AND I ENJOY READING THEM SO SO MUCH, THANK YOU FOR SENDING THEM IN!!! 😆💜

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wordsablaze · 4 years

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5 Times Jaskier Had To Prove Himself...

...and the one time somebody made an effort to look past assumptions and come to a suitable conclusion themselves...

A/N: tbh this was just me playing with my canary!jaskier headcanon <3

#1 - nothing

Ever since he was born, people had told Jaskier, or rather Julian, that he wasn’t good enough.

He had never been quiet enough or focused enough or anything enough to satisfy his parents. He’d tried, of course, he’d tried as hard as possible, but all his attempts had been in vain and he'd ended up worse off than before every time.

And he’d fallen in love, as young hearts often do, but his first love had been words and the power, the poetry, the personality they carry with them, so nobody else could ever compare.

The first girl to supposedly fall in love with him had swooned when he’d first written her into song but a dozen songs later and she’d left him for another who gave her flowers and unwavering attention.

The first boy to supposedly fall in love with him had grinned proudly upon being invited to perform to the local children with him but months later and he’d grown tired of the small crowds, left to seek the affection of a solo audience.

Julian had simply sung himself out of heartbreak.

He’d sworn off promising loyalty to others and stayed true to his writing, his frantic midnight scribbling, his composing. And that had worked for a while, but his parents were not blessed with patience and they’d quickly tried to stifle his musical desires.

They’d forced him into being a perfect noble but perfection had come with the price of sadness, loneliness, restlessness, and he couldn’t do it.

Quickly enough, his family had grown tired of him, constantly reminding him that he was nothing compared to everyone else and that his pathetic performances would always amount to nothing because if he couldn’t be who he was supposed to be, he would never be anything, always be nothing.

So Julian had slowly but surely detached himself from his life and, at the first opportunity, before his parents could officially disown him, run away.

He’d run and run and briefly stopped to earn some coin here and there before continuing to run until he’d reached somewhere far away, somewhere entirely new, and he’d rebuilt himself to be something, to be Jaskier.

And he’d made a name for himself.

Performing and composing and educating himself. Singing and rhyming and playing various instruments before settling on the lute. Trying again and again until people stopped to listen to him, smiled when they heard him and unfortunately, sometimes threw bread at him for being a nuisance.

But that was just another part of being something.

It wasn’t entirely perfect but it was refreshing and it was living and it made him happier than anything else because it allowed him to be who he wanted to be.

Where the life of Julian had been filled with expectation and etiquette that came hand in hand with copious amounts of pressure, the life of Jaskier was wild and exciting and an exhilarating form of aimless.

Most importantly, it definitely wasn’t nothing.

He wasn’t nothing.

And no matter what happened in the future, Jaskier knew that he would never be nothing because his thoughts, his passions, his experiences were slowly becoming immortalised in song and there would eventually be no way to reverse his mark on humanity.

Take that, noble suckers.

#2 - foolish

Jaskier knew that witchers were meant to be dangerous.

That had been drilled into him when he was a child, through warnings of who would find you if you strayed from the path or sought out adventures that didn’t belong to you.

But he had never stayed still long enough for any of those threats to truly take root in his heart so when he spots the alluring white hair and twin swords sitting in the corner of the tavern, he doesn’t even hesitate to make his way over.

Well, he finishes his performance first because professionalism is a thing, but that doesn’t really count.

It doesn’t go as well as planned but he doesn’t get rejected outright and he takes that as an invitation of sorts. He takes it pretty seriously, even after being kidnapped and almost killed - after all, the adventure had allowed him to make sure neither he nor Geralt would ever be nothing.

Naturally, people didn’t always approve.

They called him foolish, stupid, naive, to travel with a monster. They called him foolish, idiotic, senseless, to try and befriend a killing machine. They called him foolish, dimwitted, blind, to not see that he would never find peace with a creature of chaos.

All he did was smile, sing, and take their coin.

A part of him silently agreed with them, to an extent, because he kept his heart on his sleeve and Geralt was happy to let that be covered in blood and guts and who knows what else, so it made sense that he probably wouldn’t come out of it all with something as unreachable as love.

But he would never agree that Geralt was a monster or a killing machine, he simply did what he had been trained to do, what he needed to do in order to protect humanity. Sure, he wasn’t the friendliest of souls, but Jaskier knew that, deep down, he had a heart as golden as his eyes.

So he sticks around and makes a name for the both of them, earning himself the occasional smile and many, many hums of agreement that somehow make him smile just as much as a good performance.

And oh, the things he learns.

Potions, spells, creatures, curses, and cures for the trouble they get themselves into. So much that he spends just as much coin on notebooks and ink as he does on everything else combined. Which is saying something, because he spends a fair bit on replacing ruined clothing or restocking oils that he ends up using on Geralt.

But he wouldn’t trade his knowledge for the world.

Not even what he learns of loneliness and anger and fear. Everything he learns is precious and he loves it more than he can explain.

And if nothing else, it proves he’s not a fool.

He’s a bard and he jests but he’s no fool for he knows how to always play exactly what people want and, if necessary, he knows how to play people to get exactly what he wants.

He already knew how to make do and survive but he learns how to really live and over time, how to help Geralt live.

So no matter what anybody says and even if he pretends it sometimes, he’s not foolish.

He’s far from foolish, thank you very much.

#3 - helpless

It wouldn’t even take a whole hand for Jaskier to count how many times he’d been of use in a fight.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to fight, he just wasn’t nearly as skilled as Geralt, and the monsters Jaskier was used to looked just like him, not like something from his nightmares.

He usually stayed back, far back enough to observe and stay unharmed at the same time.

After a while, he noticed that Geralt became attuned to him, to when he was excited, nervous, hungover, or anything else.

It was interesting, to say the least, when Geralt would stop glaring because he could sense the nerves rolling of Jaskier or when he would let them stop sooner than usual because Jaskier was in some sort of pain.

He never really knew how to act when Geralt showed such kindness because it was far more than he’d ever known. That’s not to say he didn’t act at all, of course not - he showered Geralt in smiles and compliments and reluctantly accepted embraces.

But he never knew how to explain that he wasn’t entirely weak, that he knew how to carry himself forward even if his head was pounding, his pockets were empty, or his heart was in pieces.

Geralt assumed he was fragile, and he made no move to correct him.

So every time Geralt is away on a job and someone threatens him, he talks his way out of it. And every time Geralt is away on a job and someone kidnaps him - which happens far too often for his liking - he waits for them to underestimate him before escaping, using rowdy crowds or intense bedfellows to explain any wounds.

He understands, really, why Geralt had so quickly, like everyone else, thought of him as defenceless and breakable. But unlike Geralt, everyone else doesn't try to protect him, they just try to take and take and take.

Mostly, he lets them.

Every so often, he doesn’t.

And that’s usually because they’ve involved Geralt somehow.

Like the man who thought he could have his way with Jaskier after a blooming performance, only to drunkenly admit that he just wanted to see if he could be the first of his group to lay a hand on the butcher’s pet without losing it.

Jaskier had not been happy about that. For so many reasons.

But he hadn’t wasted breath in explaining his immediate hatred to the man, simply led him upstairs and none too neatly relieved him of that hand, changing the focus of his fear from a kindhearted witcher to the ire of a humble bard.

Said witcher had returned to their room with a frown, wordlessly inquiring about the sharp tang of blood, but Jaskier had simply shrugged, hinted at helping with someone’s injury, and shifted the conversation to how foul armour can smell.

And if the two of them had been met with furious, fearful looks the next morning, Jaskier didn’t care to explain.

Nor did Geralt ask, for such looks weren’t exactly uncommon anyway.

But Jaskier did take great pleasure in circling around the now-one-handed man’s table during his last performance at that tavern, immensely satisfied by how wary they were of his presence as compared to the night before.

He probably could have made his point without the blood and violence but at least they no longer thought of him as helpless.

#4 - vain

For Jaskier, vanity was a learned habit.

Sure, his parents had taught him, forced him to act pin and proper, but they'd never managed to really make him vain.

He'd always be teaching small children to sing instead of cry or braiding flower crowns with the little girls who weren't allowed to stray far from home like their brothers.

And he never turned any of the children away if they wanted to talk or hear him play something, not even if it got him into trouble later.

He learnt how to sneak apples to the horses and bread to the birds and flowers to the little boys who needed a smile because they didn't feel strong enough.

Of course, that was Julian.

After he forged Jaskier, he had to change.

For it would not do to give away what little he had when there was no guaranteed shelter to return to and sometimes, the children just wanted passing amusement rather than a friend.

So he learnt to seem vain; he found himself fancy doublets that would no doubt make an impression and he made sure his scent was always that of flowers and berries and anything sweet.

It was easier once he’d met Geralt, for all he had to do was sing his own praises in embellished verse and the audience would believe he was naught but a peacock where Geralt was the warrior, the saviour.

It hurt, sometimes, to hear the whispers of a white wolf and the vain bard he travelled with, but he tried to ignore them, slipped into the persona of a fool who cared only to entertain and be entertained.

And, really, he was no stranger to vanity.

He would rarely hesitate to spend his coin on ale or fashion and he often claimed to be the merriest, most promising bard in all the lands.

He knew it was bold of him to travel with a witcher and throw insults at a witch and mess around with djinns but he had to, he always had to because those things were all bricks in the wall of his new personality and to stop doing any of those things, to lose his newfound vanity, would be a slippery slope to being Julian again, being nothing again.

Occasionally, he caught himself singing the simpler songs he’d made up as a child and paused to wonder what Julian would think of Jaskier, whether he’d be happy with the person he’d become, the life he’d found for himself.

But then Geralt would throw something at him or pointedly clear his throat and those musings would be folded away for another day, replaced by incessant chatter or disjointed composing.

Still, those moments were usually followed by Jaskier treating Roach to fresh apples. Or by Jaskier braiding flowers in Geralt’s hair while he pretended to sleep because a witcher could never audibly admit to enjoying such displays of vanity, even if he never deliberately shook the flowers away in the morning.

And even if those small, selfless actions were rarely witnessed by anyone else, even one soul seeing his true nature was enough for him.

Because although he paraded in his defensive vanity, he would never be vain.

#5 - dead

Jaskier was something of a paradox.

Everyone who spent a night with him would say he was bright, youthful, and filled with an energy associated only with those who have yet to experience the world.

Everyone who spent the day with him as well would say he was witty, clever, and filled with a strange sort of knowledge that only came from having experienced the world.

And so it was difficult for anyone to decide if he was younger and naive or older and wise.

It didn’t usually matter because travelling with Geralt meant that they went where the contracts were and they rarely stayed in the same place for more than a mere week, during which nobody had the chance to really ponder the age of a passing bard, no matter how well-known he was.

But every so often, people noticed.

Sometimes it was the children, who grew taller between his visits and were surprised to see his lack of greying. Namely one lion cub who would pester him to reveal his secrets so she could share them with the adults around her, but she was easily distracted, regaled with tales of danger and destiny.

But it was mostly associates of Geralt such as Yennefer, who grew increasingly more confused at his presence, and not just because he eventually figured out how to insult her in return without pushing her buttons in a way that would endanger his life.

It became regular for her to ask him why he wasn’t yet dead in a ditch somewhere every time they met, which was commonly met with a nonchalant smirk and sometimes, the low growl of a witcher.

His replies were always vague, names of market vendors with new oils or healers and herbs known to reduce wrinkles and weariness.

The only time he truly paid attention to anyone questioning whether or not he should be alive was when whispers appeared of a viscount’s assumed death.

He followed the whispers when Geralt was occupied and found himself back where he had begun, a pathetic mourning in place for a lost son, a lost noble, a lost tool in the world of diplomacy.

And he laughed.

He laughed because his parents had, for one reason or another, waited years and years and years before announcing that their so-called beloved son had most likely been taken from them by the cruel hand of death.

Jaskier wanted to correct them, wanted to shout that no, Julian had not helplessly succumbed to some tragic fate but rather, had taken himself away, had willingly erased who he was in exchange for a life truly worth living.

But he’d done nothing.

He’d turned back and returned to Geralt and settled for repeatedly reminding everyone that he was staying around to sing about Geralt’s adventures and misadventures for as long as he’d have them, thank you very much indeed.

Once in a while, he’d catch sight of his reflection somewhere and wonder how he could look so similar and yet feel so different to who he’d once been, who he could never be again even if he really wished.

In the end, he never stopped to work it out, simply picking up his lute and continuing forward, continuing to sing and drink and travel and learn and live.

+1 - canary

It took Geralt an embarrassingly long time to decipher Jaskier.

Well, not quite decipher him.

More like, come to an understanding deep enough to satisfy his curiosity and convince his instincts to stop puzzling things over again and again.

At first, he thought nothing of Jaskier, assuming he was simply a fool wanting to see the world and figure out the mysteries of Witchers on his own. But then Jaskier continued to follow him and made him famous - made people love him - and Geralt had to abandon that thought.

Time passed and he learned that Jaskier needed more food than he did, needed more sleep than he did, needed more protection from monsters and humans and his own stupidity than he did. So he let Jaskier stick around with the implicit rule that he was to be protected, but then Jaskier asked a djinn to be a mercenary and that idea had vanished pretty quickly.

He wasn’t sure what to make of Jaskier after that.

The oils and perfumes that he doused himself in should have made him vain and pretentious but he was nothing like the nobles whose parties they went to and Geralt found his own scent of steel and blood and horse being slowly but surely mixed with lavender and honey and something like sunshine.

He wasn’t exactly complaining, but it was strange nonetheless.

And there was something about Jaskier that he couldn’t place.

Not something significant enough to worry his medallion but something more subtle, a distant alarm bell dampened by smiles and lutes. But travelling with Jaskier had taught him that the bard had no cruel bone in his body, not where it really mattered.

So he stopped questioning Jaskier’s nature and instead took to accepting it, being forced to embrace it, eventually finding himself rather enjoying it.

And then he ruined it.

He landed himself in a mess and blamed it on Jaskier and sent someone who had so thoroughly become part of his life away.

It was fine for a while but then he realised that the very singing he had claimed to hate was really something he missed, wanted back, desperately longed for. The scent of lavender became a dream and the silence he’d once loved became empty, vicious, a reminder of what he could so easily have kept.

There was nobody to dress his wounds and clean his hair and restock his supplies and although he’d lived that way for what felt like centuries, he found himself unable to go back to such a lifestyle.

It was harder to find contracts because there was nobody to tell him where the danger was and every victory seemed pointless if certain blue eyes weren’t there to admire and tease and irritate him with their shameless curiosity.

Hmm.

Turns out he needs Jaskier.

No, not needs - wants.

He wants to be plagued with singing and pestered with questions and sneakily provoked into doing whatever Jaskier likes.

Because Jaskier is a bard - the greatest bard of them all, if you ask Geralt - and he’s a nuisance and he’s a puzzle and he’s a friend but he’s also, in the White Wolf’s professional opinion, something of a canary.

He’s small and bright and filled with life and he can have people, anyone from townsfolk to royals, wrapped around his finger as soon as he starts performing; he’s loud and restless but he’s soft and gentle and there’s a precious quality to him that makes him irresistible.

And as soon as he’s gone, Geralt can’t be at peace.

It’s almost as if there’s something lurking around him and Jaskier acts like a warning, a lighthouse, a force of nature in and of himself.

So Geralt knows that, after silently wallowing in guilt and regret and hindsight, his only logical course of action is to find his canary again, to find Jaskier again.

Which he does.

Slowly.

But surely.

And what feels like a small eternity later, he figures out where to look, where to find what he had so carelessly left behind, thrown away.

It’s far from smooth and it’s almost painful the way they reunite but it’s also perfect because Jaskier seems to have been forged with forgiveness in his blood.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, promises, repeats over and over again.

In words and actions and smiles and everything else he can think of, because he wants, needs Jaskier to understand that the last thing he wants is for him to fly away again.

Time and time again, because he knows he’s awful at communicating and he knows that Jaskier deserves better and he just wants to convey his appreciations and regrets and intentions properly.

“I love you too,” Jaskier replies.

And it doesn’t matter whether he tells Geralt quietly or loudly or any other way because it’s always the same song, performed differently but no less beautifully.

Jaskier has sung many songs over the years and Geralt would probably be able to name most of them but his favourite by far is the love that spills from Jaskier’s very presence, the love that Geralt never thought he would be so fortunately blessed with.

For his love is a subtle song aimed at an audience of one and one only, and Geralt hears it in whatever Jaskier does because Jaslier is a canary, somehow his canary, and he never really stops singing, even when he does.

And Geralt couldn’t ask for anything more.

So he welcomes everything that Jaskier is and everything that he isn’t and everything that he probably shouldn’t be allowed to be and he vows never to leave him again.

Because Geralt loves Jaskier.

ik it’s a little canon-deviant but it’s a headcanon, yaknow?

thanks for reading! masterlist

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santacarlahorrorshow · 4 years

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Hello there! I don't know if you are accepting requests, so I'm just shooting my shot. I was thinking about a short one shot with Diego based on the song Wait a minute by Willow Smith. Actually the part where she says "You left your diary at my house And I read those pages, you really love me". I know you're busy with These Hands Stained Red, so it's okay if you can't write it. Have a nice day! 🤗💖

Title: You Were Bound to See

Pairing: Diego Hargreeves/Reader

Word Count: 2.9k (whoops?)

Author’s Note: I was already in a Birds of Prey mood, and your additional requests for 'number 8/singer in a bar/power has to do with her voice' gave me maaajor Black Canary/Dinah Lance feels. So, I used some of that character's story for inspiration. I hope that's okay! (I also had never heard the song before, so I hope I did alright with your song prompt! Thank you so much for sending this in! 💖)

You sat on your bed, waiting for him to show up. On nights like these, it wasn't uncommon for him to sneak into your apartment, seeking a night together.

When you heard the window beside your bed slide up, you felt a smirk tug at your lips. You glanced over your shoulder, catching sight of him standing there in his domino mask and usual vigilante gear.

"What was it this time?"

"A robbery," he answered. "What? You couldn't see that with your little musical gift?"

You quirked an eyebrow at him, not amused by his snark. "It doesn't work like that and you know it," you snapped, shooting him a glare. "And why don't you take that stupid thing off your face? You look like an idiot."

Diego rolled his eyes, reaching up to pull his mask off. "You used to wear one too. Or did you forget we used to be on the same team?"

How could you ever forget? Your mother had only been a lonely, scared teenager when she suddenly became pregnant and gave birth to you all in one day. You didn't remember much about her, but you did remember that she used to call you her little miracle. She didn't have much money or anyone to rely on, but she loved you. And you? You loved her.

You were just a kid when she got sick and passed, there and gone in what felt like a blink of an eye. In the weeks before she left you, you spent many nights at her bedside, singing her song after song, your head filled with visions that never yielded what you hoped to find.

After she passed, you ended up bounced around the system for a few years until you ran away. You learned at a young age that you truly couldn't rely on anyone but yourself, so you resigned yourself to being alone.

You had to become resourceful to survive on the streets. It wasn't the most glamorous lifestyle, but you figured it was better than trusting someone who would only ultimately let you down.

Your life took a sudden turn when you were only thirteen. You had gone a few days without food, so you had to resort to looking through a dumpster in search of a meal. You thought you had found the jackpot outside of a mansion, since you knew rich people were always throwing away perfectly good food.

You had just jumped inside when you startled at the sound of someone banging a fist on the side of it.

"Hey! You find anything good in there?"

You peeked over the side of the dumpster to see a boy about your age leaning against the side of it. He glanced up at you, throwing you a wink, before he brought a cigarette to his lips and took a drag.

"Smoking kills, you know?"

The boy shrugged his shoulders. "Death doesn't concern me that much," he offered with a grin, lightly laughing at the words as if it was a joke only he would understand. "What are you doing in there?"

"Looking for food," you answered, figuring there was no harm in being honest.

The boy squinted up at you before he nodded his head. "Alright," he said. "Come with me."

You shook your head. "I don't even know you."

"Oh! Right," he said, hastily dropping his cigarette to the ground before stepping on it. "I'm Klaus. And you are?"

You considered the boy for a few moments before you sighed. "I'm Y/N," you finally offered.

You were surprised when Klaus took you inside the mansion. He was quick to introduce you to a woman named Grace who immediately started to fuss over you. She made you food which you promptly ate while listening to Klaus ramble away about his life and family.

"Well, this was great," you started once you finished the pancakes and eggs Grace had made for you. "But I should really be going."

"I believe we would both agree on that," you heard a man say from the doorway of the kitchen. "What were you thinking, Number Four? Inviting this strange child into our home?"

Klaus snorted before he shot you a commiserating look, as if you could possibly understand what was really going on. "I was thinking, Reggie, that she was hungry and needed something to eat."

"This is not your house, Number Four. You did not have my permission to invite a stranger inside."

It was then that you noticed the other kids crowding around the older man. It took you a few moments, but you realized that you recognized some of them. You frowned at the one wearing a domino mask, a scowl on his face as he watched you.

"We don't have time for this," the older man snapped. "It is time to debut the team. There is a robbery in progress and you and the other children are going to stop it."

"At a bank?" You asked, tilting your head to the side as you watched the older man. "There's going to be men hiding in the bank vault. Make sure you get them too."

The man turned to give you his full focus, staring you down for long enough that you started to feel truly uncomfortable. "Tell me," he started. "When were you born?"

"What? What the hell does that matter?"

"Your date of birth," the man demanded. "Now."

"October first," you answered.

"Year?"

You shot a quick glance at Klaus, seeing that his eyes were wide with wonder as he waited for your answer.

"1989?" You hesitantly offered, not sure why it came out as a question.

"Where did you find her, Number Four?"

"Uh," Klaus started, staring at you uncertainly.

"I was outside in the dumpster looking for food," you answered for him.

"I see," the man mused. "It seems I may have some use for you after all. Stay here," he commanded. "I want to speak with you when we get back."

You watched as the man herded all of the kids out of the kitchen, leaving Grace with instructions to make sure you stayed put.

Of course, you had no intention of staying. You didn't trust the man or the way he seemed to think you were suddenly valuable to him. You didn't want to see what he had in store for you.

So, the moment Grace turned her back, you made a run for it.

It didn't take you long to learn that Reginald Hargreeves really did have no intention of letting you go. He managed to track you down within a day and offered you another meal if you only listened to what he had to say.

You agreed, even if you were hesitant to believe that he was offering you salvation.

He spun you a crazy tale of superhero kids and a bid to save the world. It took some coaxing, but you finally admitted that you caught glimpses of the future. All you had to do was sing a song and visions played in your head of what was to come. You couldn't control it and it only seemed to stretch as far as a few days ahead, but you always tried your best to understand them when they came.

"Precognitive music," Reginald confirmed with a nod of his head. "Well, I'm not sure how useful you can be to the team, but I'm sure we can find a place for you. Welcome to the team, Number Eight."

Despite having an official welcome to the team and family, you still tried to run away. A lot. But Reginald always brought you back.

You didn't really mesh well with the team. You didn't bother to get to know Luther or Allison. The one they called Number Five disappeared not long after you joined the team and Ben was so quiet and reserved that he usually kept to himself. The only ones you really forged any kind of connection with were Diego, Klaus, and Vanya.

Klaus didn't really give you a choice about whether you wanted to be friends or not. He seemed to just barge right into your life and stay there, pulling you into his antics from time to time.

You bonded with Vanya over music. Once you heard her play her violin, you instantly fell for her talent. You spent hours listening to her play, eventually having the confidence to sing to her and sharing your visions with her.

And Diego? Diego only seemed to show an interest in you because he didn't trust you. You were pretty sure he thought you were going to somehow kill everyone in their sleep one night. Which, to you, didn't make sense, because he was the one with the lethal power.

Diego's constant watch over you meant that you ended up spending a lot of time together, whether you truly wanted to or not. You discovered an anger in Diego that you connected with. He was angry with his upbringing and constant dismissal from his father that left him feeling like he wasn't good enough and you were angry at the shitty hand life had dealt you and the constant voice in your head telling you that you didn't belong. Over time, you learned how to talk each other down when you truly felt like you were going to lose it. Sometimes when you tried to run away, Diego would be the first to talk you out of it.

As you grew older, you started to rely on each other. You were the first one to have his back on a mission and he made sure you knew how to spar just as well as him so you could better defend yourself. You started spending most of your time together, forging a connection you never would have seen coming, despite your precognitive ability.

When you turned seventeen, you and Diego left the Academy together. You both took up odd jobs, sharing a shitty apartment just so you wouldn't have to spend one more moment under the roof of Reginald Hargreeves.

That first year you spent together, just the two of you, was one of the best years of your life. Diego took up playing guitar and you would sit on the bed you shared, singing to him. He was always so interested in your visions, but that wasn't why you chose to share your talent with Diego. Singing had always been something you loved, and in a way, it was something you did for the people you loved. Your mom. Vanya. And then Diego.

Of course, you knew you were too young for those kinds of feelings and young love rarely lasted.

Your problems started when Diego wanted to start up a vigilante lifestyle. He ended up washing out of the police academy, stating that it wasn't for him. Instead, he took to wanting to patrol the streets at night, listening to a stolen police scanner, and throwing himself into danger. You tagged along at first, but you quickly realized that you didn't want to be a superhero. It became a point of contention between the two of you.

"Diego, we can't keep doing this," you insisted one night. You were bleeding from a cut to your forehead you had gotten after a close call with a group of men who were intent on robbing a convenience store.

"Doing what?" He asked, carefully dabbing at the cut with a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol.

"This," you insisted. "Saving people. Being good little superheroes. I thought that's why we left the Academy."

"That's why you left the Academy," he pointed out.

"I'm not cut out for the superhero life," you said, trying to make him see that you were suffering for it.

"You were born for the superhero life," he countered. "Otherwise, what's the use of having a power if you don't use it to save people?"

You shook your head, glancing away from him. "I didn't ask for this," you whispered. "Aren't we meant for something more?" You couldn't help but wonder, feeling like your heart was tearing in two at the silence that followed.

You left not long after that. You ended up singing in a dive bar for a boss with shady connections and as far as you knew, Diego took up a job at a boxing ring during the day while he moonlighted as a vigilante at night.

Even though you both didn't seem to agree with the other, you couldn't stay away. The rest of the team had been irreparably broken for a long time, but you couldn't seem to quit Diego. He didn't like that you were seemingly wasting your nights singing in a bar, keeping your visions to yourself, and refusing to use them for the greater good. You didn't like that he was risking his life for people who didn't give a fuck about him and wouldn't care if he died in the process of saving them.

You spent years going back and forth. Some nights, after you were done at the bar, you would make your way to The Fighting Lion, waiting on Diego's bed until he bothered to show up. Other nights, he would come see you after saving some hapless victim, crawling through your window like you were teenagers in some kind of sweet rom-com.

It didn't matter how much it hurt that you would never truly agree, because you knew that you loved him. You loved him so much some days you could hardly think past the need to have him right there at your side.

Now, you barely resisted the urge to roll your eyes before you turned your back on him.

"I can guess why you're here," you started, shooting him another quick glance over your shoulder. "Catch the bad guys?"

"And saved some lives, baby," he told you with a smirk.

"Don't call me that," you said.

"What should I call you then?" The smirk never left his face as he started pulling off his holsters, dropping his knives on their unofficial designated place on your dresser. "Remember what I used to call you when we were younger?"

"Don't," you warned, knowing what he was about to say.

"My little songbird," he crooned with an almost mocking note to his voice. "You used to sing just for me," he reminded you.

You watched him continue to strip until his shirt was off and his pants were unzipped.

"You're awfully confident about where this is heading," you pointed out to him. "What if I said I just wasn’t feeling it tonight? What if I showed you the door?"

"You know, I caught your show tonight," he informed you, seemingly completely ignoring your previous words.

That was news to you. As far as you were aware, Diego had never bothered to actually come to the bar and see you sing. He thought you could do better and you didn’t quite disagree with him.

"I listened to you and watched you," he said, slowly approaching you until he was standing just beside your bed. "And I realized something."

"Oh, yeah?" You asked, raising an eyebrow at him as he put a hand to your shoulder, coaxing you to lie down. "What was that?"

He moved to hover over you on the bed, propped up on his arms on either side of your head with his eyes trained on yours. "You don't really love it," he finally responded. "You just go and sing because you enjoy it, but it's nothing like those private shows you used to put on for me. I never realized before how close we were then. How intimate," he said as he leaned down, placing a kiss to your jaw. "I remember the look on your face every time you sang just for me." Another kiss was placed in the hollow of your throat. "You used to look at me like I was everything to you. You gave yourself away."

You felt your breath hitch as he placed a biting kiss just under your jaw, his teeth lightly scraping over your skin.

"I did?" Your voice was breathless as you attempted to glance down at him.

"You did," he confirmed with another smirk, finally rising up so you could see him.

"And what did I give away?" You couldn't help but ask, torn between knowing and pulling him down into a kiss.

"You love me," he said. "I didn't notice at first, but tonight made me see it. It made me see you. You love me, Y/N. You really love me."

It was hopeless to deny it. You had known since you were only seventeen. You had resigned yourself to loving Diego for the rest of your life, because you simply couldn't help it. It didn't matter if you would always clash and were wrong for each other in so many ways. Your heart never seemed to listen to what your brain had to say. You loved Diego.

"And what if I do? Does that change anything?" Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, your instincts warring between pulling him closer or pushing him away in the event he just ended up hurting you again.

"Of course it doesn't," he answered with a shake of his head. He offered you a soft, sincere smile before he leaned down again, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke his next words. "Because I love you too."

#diego hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy #tua #prompt request #diego hargreeves #reader insert #reader is number eight #reader #request

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groundzeroagency · 4 years

Text

> 𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓑𝓲𝓻𝓭 <

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[ Hawks x Reader ]

Quirk : Canary Cry ; Similar to Dc comics super-heroine, Black Canary. The reader can use their voice as a weapon of destruction.

Character background : Reader is a singer for a night club owned by one of the many mafia’s in Japan. She sings there due to being in debt to the mafia that owns the club. She’s been trying to find a way out of her situation but it never ended good for her.

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[ Warning : Angst, Violence, Swearing and Fluff ]

{This is a long Oneshot }

@trashys-things @bubbleteaa

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Hawks was finally free from his Hero work and decided to go to a club to relax with some alcohol. He heard there was a club with a wonderful singer that could relax the senses of anyone. He flew over towards the club and landed in front of it before walking in. It was a nice setting actually with a stage in the middle with a microphone at the center.

The pro hero sat down in the back from the crowd there was. He ordered two beers at first before hearing a man introducing a person of the name,Canary. Hawks looked over towards the stage as a young woman with long H/C in a red silk dress walk out from the curtains. The woman had a kind smile upon their face as the music started to play. They swayed their hips gently to the music before singing a song softy into the microphone. Hawks eyes widen slightly at the beautiful woman that was singing with their beautiful voice. Hawks felt his nerves and body slowly relaxed at the beautiful sound that filled the club.

“A beauty, isn’t she ?” a voice suddenly said interrupting Hawks thoughts. Hawks looked over to see a man standing next to his booth. The Man looked at Hawks with a slight grin before introducing himself as the owner of the club. “It’s absolutely an honor to have the number 2 hero in my club “ The man said who’s name was Sam Kirov. Hawks simply nodded softly at the man. Hawks kept glancing at the beautiful singer on the stage. Sam grinned at Hawks eye movements. “That’s our canary, she’s like a siren with that voice of her’s“ he joked before leaving to do his rounds around the club.

Hawks was simply hypnotized by Canary’s Singing. Minutes later, Canary’s show was over. The pro hero clapped with the rest of the crowd in the club at the beautiful show was given. Canary was backstage drinking some water as she was suddenly pulled by Sam. She looked at Sam with a confused look on her face but her body was tensed at his hands on her. “There’s someone you should meet “ he simply said pulling her from backstage and towards a certain Pro Hero’s booth. Hawks was finishing his second beer and was going to head home until he saw the owner of the club dragging over the beautiful singer of the club.

“Hawks! This is our lovely canary “ Sam said with a wide grin. Canary looked at her at Hawks and blushed softly before looking down. Sam placed Canary in Hawk’s booth and said “Make conversation “ before leaving them. Hawks looked over at Canary before saying “You have a beautiful miss Canary” with a gentle smile. Canary looked at hawks before replying “Please call me, Y/N “ in a soft tone and smile. “Thank you as well “ she added with a blush. Hawks smiled “Y/n. That’s a pretty name. “ he said looking at them. Suddenly the pro hero and singer made conversation enjoying each other’s company.

One conversation became two to more eventually, Hawks came to the club every night to listen to Y/n’s beautiful singing and every night they sat down together and talked enjoying each other’s company. They would tell their secrets towards another including how Y/n came to be the club’s singer, she fell in love with the wrong person and was a part of Sam’s “group” and she was in debt to him now. Hawks told Y/n, his name and about his past. The two were slowly falling in love with one another but Sam wasn’t happy that his canary was taken a liking towards another man other than him. Sam was a very possessive man specially with his Toys.

One night, Hawks didn’t come due to a night rescue. Y/n just finished her nightly show, Sam came over and slapped the woman harshly causing her to fall down. She looked up at Sam shocked before he pulled her up harshly. “Get up, Bitch” he growled as he pulled her up completely grabbing her tightly by her chin. She looked at Sam with tears at the stinging pain, this wasn’t new that Sam abused her physically. “You are never seeing that hero ever again. He taking my sweet canary from me “ he said harshly before cooing and caressing her hair causing the young woman to flinch slightly. Sam glared darkly at Y/n before tighten his grip on her “Stay away from him or I’ll kill your precious hero. Got it!” He yelled causing Y/n to flinched and nod letting out a soft sob out.

Sam pushes her away before leaving her alone. She cried softy to herself before running out through the back door. She ran towards her apartment but bumped into the man of the hour, Hawks. Hawks grabbed her gently “Hey Songbird! Did I miss your show ?” He asked tilting his head with a smile before his smile faded away as he saw her with tears. “Are you okay ? Y/n?” He asked softy in a worried tone. Y/n simply looked up Hawks and cried softy “Keigo. We can’t see each other anymore. “.

Keigo looked at Y/n confused and worried “Why ?” He asked with a frown causing for the girl to tense up and looked at Keigo with the Harshest glare they could make and yell at him “BECAUSE I DON’T LIKE YOU ! I NEVER DID!”. She was shaking slightly thinking “I’m doing this to protect you. I’m sorry”. Hawks flinched slightly before looking at her and nods gently “Fuck you “ he said glaring and flying off. She was the first person, he opened up to about his life, about everything.

She flinched before seeing him flying away. She whimpered softy before screaming out their frustration out accidentally using their quirk destroying a bus stop and signs. She covered her mouth immediately in shock before crying again and running home. Once she made it home, she closed the door and slide down against it crying her heart out. She loved him and found happiness in him but now it was taken from her.

Hawks never came back to the club for drinks or to see her. Y/n kept singing at the club but she was different, more duller like she lost the light within her. Sam abused the young singer more frequently leaving bruises on her arms and throat. The young girl had to wear makeup to cover up the physical abuse she had to endured from the owner of the club. It was a nightmare that she couldn’t escape from and no body could had help her, her only savior was pushed away by her for his protection. The abuse would go on for many nights until one night.

Hawks came back that night, he sat in back like he did when he came to the club for the first time. He had to see her one more time, he couldn’t get his songbird out of his head. He made it just time for the show. He kept to himself as he heard Sam introduce “Canary “ on stage. He sat up straight as he saw her walking through the curtains with a black silk dress and a collar around her neck. He noticed some makeup on her arms and some bruising around her throat.

Y/n started singing not even looking at the crowd, just wanting this to end. She sang softly as she was simply tired of the abuse and missing Hawks. She slowly looked up at the crowd and immediately made eye contact with Hawks. Something in her eyes changed like they lighten up slightly at appearance at Hawks. She looked only at Hawks as she sang softy letting her hands out ;

Could you hold me through the night?

Put your lips all over my mine

Salty face when I start cryin'

Could you be my first time?

Eat me up like apple pie

Make me not wanna die

Love me rough and let me fly

Get me up, yeah, get me high

Tie me down, don't leave my side

Don't be a waste of my time.

Hawks slowly got up from his booth which gained the attention of Sam. Sam glared at Hawks then looked over at his little Canary before calling his men over. Y/n noticed before stopping her singing and saying “No! Don’t hurt him !” in a scared tone. Hawks looked over at Y/n confused before looking at Sam noticing there were more men now. Y/n ran off stage and in front of Hawks “Don’t hurt him, Please “ she pleads toward Sam. Sam glared darkly before grabbing her roughly sending his men on Hawks.

Hawks immediately fought back with his fists and quirk. Y/n struggled against Sam screaming for the men to stop. She fought against her abuser but it was no use. Hawks was knocked down and getting beaten up. Y/n eyes widen before yelling “Cover your ears, Keigo!”. Hawks listened without a doubt before Y/n used her quirk, Canary cry. A sonic scream was let out causing the men to stop and fall cradling their heads as blood came out of their ears. Sam immediately let go of Y/n as she used her quirk, since he was the closest to her, he was hurt badly. She fell down as she stopped her canary cry. She looked over at Hawks and got up running towards him.

She looked at him worried “Keigo!” She cried out causing him to look at her. She looked at him completely worried and he looked at her Same. He sat up slowly in slight pain checking on her to see any injuries. The police came shortly after as calls were made about the club and the disturbance. Hawks and Y/N were checked over by the Ambulances. Hawks was set free as his injuries weren’t that bad. He immediately went over to Y/n. The Ambulance person was looking over the bruises the young singer had on her body. Hawks saw them and eyes widen. She noticed Hawks and looked down not wanting to make eye contact with him.

Hawks asked the ambulance for some privacy with Y/n. They got their privacy and Hawks immediately made a comment “What the hell did he do to you ?” Looking at her bruises causing her to flinch gently and tear up. “Songbird “ he whispered gently towards her, coming closer and grabbing her hands gently. She looked up at him slowly “He would hit me every night “ she whispered softy before crying. “I pushed you away to protect you, Keigo. He was going to kill you if I didn’t stop talking to you “ she said telling him the truth about why she yelled at him that night. He frowned at her words before replying “Y/n. You could had told me, I would had stopped him. I’m a hero after all”. She looked at him before yelling “I know ! But I was scared what would happen ! Because I LOVE YOU ! “.

Hawks eyes widen at her confession before hugging her gently. She sniffed softy and hugged him back “I love you, Keigo Tamaki” she whispered into his chest. He held her close before whispering “I love you too, Y/n L/n”. She tensed up slightly at his confession but relaxed immediately saying his arms. He looked at her “He’s going to jail, all of his men too. You’re free, Songbird “ he told her. Y/n let out a breath of relief, she was free from her cage. Finally her nightmare was over and was free at last.

She slowly smiled and stayed in Hawks arms, her safe haven. She pulled away and looked up at him before kissing him gently. He kissed her back gently and held her close before pulling away.

“Now, let’s go home, Songbird and live a cage free life “ Hawks told the Young Singer with a gentle smile.

#Spotify #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #my hero academia keigo takami #my hero academia #wing hero hawks #bnha hawks #boko no hero academia #songbird

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lifeisdabubbles-undersalmondean · 3 years

Text

La Pomme ~ Chapter Eight

Pairing: Sam x OC (eventual Dean x OC and Dean x Castiel. And I mean eventual.)

Series summary: George is a casual French-Mistake-universe Supernatural fan living in no-COVID 2020, who's life is upended when she's suddenly launched between realities, two years into the boys' past (S13E22). What begins as an insane, immersive fan experience turns into more when Jack goes missing and George offers up her AU information to help track him down. Soon it's discovered that she and Sam may actually have history. But that's impossible, right?

Word Count: 3,900

Warnings: {smut, fluff, angst, show level violence, swearing, mentions of suicide} ***Detailed warnings will be tagged for specific chapters.

A/N: Following the events of my prequel Paradise and second story From My Eyes Off. Reading those first gives context but isn’t necessary to start this one.

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Collapsing into one of the comfier library chairs set between some stacks, George took a sip of the small glass of whiskey she figured she'd earned. She'd just scolded a fucking demon from hell. What was she thinking?! It had been pretty cool, but pissing off an evil, powerful being was maybe not the smartest. She could have gotten herself killed!

It had been unavoidable though; upon realizing that Demon Tim must have been the reason they suspected her of being involved in Jack's disappearance, she had been furious. Not only was it not true, it was insulting, humiliating, and just plain rude. It was also simply a bad plan. So, she took it upon herself to enlighten him and to correct his offensive insinuations. Hopefully, it wouldn't come back to bite her in the ass.

Her focus shifted then to Jack. Reflecting over her time there, there were things she remembered having happened on the show. The refugees in the bunker, AU Michael attacking, Jack losing his powers, Lucifer dude being just a regular human dude now; all of it was familiar, even when it terrified her (see: AU Michael attack). But, when they told her Jack was missing, she was thrown off at first. It wasn't something she remembered seeing on the show. Then again, she'd only just finished binging from season 10 to the end of 13 a couple weeks ago and hadn't started 14 yet. So, maybe she was past the point of being able to tell when things were part of their prescribed timeline or not? Therefore, even if Jack had been kidnapped on the show, she wouldn't have any info for them, right?

The problem was, the more she thought about it the more she began to believe she had seen something about this storyline. Jack being missing, the three of them going to save him-

Was it Ryan telling you about some episode where they rescued Jack in the redwoods? They had filmed it on location at some tourist spot you went to as a kid all the time and she thought you'd think it was cool… where was that?

She couldn't remember, and it frustrated her. She was also worried that she was making this all up just to be helpful.

Taking another sip, she allowed her thoughts to wander between episode scenes like an internal microfiche as she tried to nail down her recollection, No, I can definitely picture all four of them in the woods and fighting. Someone had kidnapped Jack, wanting his powers for something… was it the angels?

"Well, that was interesting," Dean stated, startling her out of her thoughts. The three of them were walking into the library a surprisingly short while after she left them with Tim.

Looking up at them, she set the glass down on a nearby shelf and stood up. Dean didn't elaborate further while he poured his own glass. The expressions each one wore were indiscernible and she grew nervous.

"Oh?" George raised a brow and looked between them, "Did he talk? Because you know, I've actually been sitting here thinking about this whole situation and something about Jack going missing is very familiar. Now, unfortunately, I am a few seasons behind, and-""

Dean took a sip, looking at her with curious amusement, and interrupted, "I was talking about you."

George looked surprised and then grimaced, "No, no. I'm not interesting, not at all. I'm the exact opposite of interesting. I'm-I'm… I'm…"

"Uninteresting?" Castiel offered helpfully as she struggled to find the words. Sam and Dean rolled their eyes in unison.

"Right! Thank you, Castiel. I'm highly uninteresting." She gulped a bit and wrung her hands as the three of them kept watching her. In the silence, she nervously looked in Castiels direction and blurted quickly, "I'm also George! Hi! Really nice to meet you! Big fan!"

"Nice to meet you," Castiel smiled awkwardly and nodded a greeting, looking at the other two with a confused expression, "...fan of what?"

"Right, positively boring," Sam interjected sarcastically before he could stop himself. He definitely thought she was interesting. First she's just a beautiful woman, then she's a beautiful woman he may or may not have had a life altering dream about ten years ago, and now she was a beautiful woman from an alternate reality where his life was a prime time television show… who he may or may not have had a life altering dream about ten years ago. 'Uninteresting' was definitely not an adjective he'd use for her.

Dean snorted, "Yea, boring is the last word I would use to describe that scene earlier. You caused Tim to sing like a canary, by the way."

Her jaw dropped in disbelief, "Say what?"

"I almost say we hire her to be our monster torture hypeman," He joked, looking at Sam with a raised eyebrow.

Sam ignored him and addressed Geroge's question, "After you left, Tim-"

"Cleetus," Dean interjected sarcastically.

"Cleetus… well, he sort of... started crying? He said he'd tell us everything we wanted to know if we promised to keep you away from him." Sam looked strangely apologetic and she let a few nervous chuckles escape, unsure whether to believe what they were saying.

"We think you hurt his feelings," Castiel explained further. "Which fortunately seemed to motivate him to talk, so thank you."

"I guess his demon mommy didn't teach him about sticks and stones," Dean cracked, taking another swig.

"Huh. OK. Neat!" George didn't know what to say; she was confused and strangely proud of herself. But she didn't want them to think she wasn't chill, so she shrugged nonchalantly, "You're welcome, I guess. Anyway, as I was saying, I'm not caught up to the current season of my timeline but I think I remember this whole Jack-gone-missing thing a little bit. I want to say you all track him down somewhere in… Oregon? Washington? I'm getting a Northwest-ish feeling." She began unconsciously pacing around the room, gesturing energetically with her hands. "I can picture a battle taking place in the woods...Jack being in danger, you all being in danger, too...some fighting...maybe someone losing the fight? Or getting really hurt," She glanced worriedly at Castiel. He'd be the only actor they'd axe of the three of them, so it stood to reason he'd be the most likely to die if she was right.

Dean and Sam shared a look before Dean asked, "Fine, I'll bite. Do you know a city? A time-frame? Who we're fighting? Anything specific?"

George paused and then slumped a bit in defeat, "No. I've only really watched up through, like, literally now. Other than random things I've heard or seen in passing, I don't know anything that's happened since ya'll got back from the apocalypse world. Been purposefully trying to avoid spoilers, too, which is a decision I now regret, obviously."

"OK, well look, sweetheart, it's OK," Dean began, in an embarrassingly condescending, douchey tone, "We don't expect you to help us. I mean, we're grateful about the assist with Cleetus, obviously but this-" Dean vaguely motioned in her direction and she raised an offended eyebrow, "-was obviously just a weird magical mess that Rowena left for us to clean up yet again. So, you just sit back and relax, and once we find Jack we'll figure out how to get you back home in a jiff, OK?" He winked and finger gunned at her, adding, "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it." In his way, Dean was trying to convey to her a sense of ease and comfort that they would take care of things. But, unsurprisingly, he came off incredibly dismissive and patronizing. Her cheeks flushed an angry red; she'd had it up to here with him by now.

Sam and Castiel exchanged nervous glances at the look on her face and Sam tried to stop it before the inevitable happened, "Uh, Dean, mayb-"

Cutting him off, George slowly walked toward Dean, eyes blazing, "Listen sweet cheeks." She had a polite smile on her face as she tried her hardest to muster up the same condescending, silky, sweet Dean-tone, "I'm sympathetic to the fact that you can't help but be an insufferably arrogant ass most of the time-that's just how you were written," for a split second she saw Dean's cool-guy-smug-face falter and she relished it. She could tell she landed a blow, even if it was a small one, "but maybe you could do us all a favor and try to ignore your cro-magnon dated natural urges and attempt to be open minded for once in your life? Just try to consider the fact that, like it or not, I might not be a total useless red-shirt? That maybe I-once again the lone female in the entire world according to Supernatural-might actually be useful? Hmm? Might actually have useful-albeit vague-information for you? Or would taking your lead from a woman be too threatening to you overbearing, uber-macho, 'we-get-it-you're-totally-straight' masculinity?"

Dean's head jerked back in offense, "Now, wait a minute! What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it," She mocked him in a deep, goofy tone, high-fiving herself internally. Nailed it! She'd always hated how damn smug his character was. Yes, fine, he was hot and charming and smart as fuck and right at least like 75% of the time, but he didn't have to be so fucking arrogant about it all the time. She preferred a man with some humility.

Sam was smirking at the look on Dean's face and muttered teasingly, "How does it feel, Cleetus?"

"Except, you actually don't." Cas interjected begrudgingly, as he thoroughly enjoyed watching Dean get verbally bitch-slapped. In fact, he could watch it all day, but they needed to focus on Jack.

"Scuse me?" She said, maintaining her sweet tone while staring daggers at Dean. "Don't what?"

"Have useful information for us," the angel said begrudgingly matter-of-fact.

"Er," Sam interjected seeing the look on her face, "Uh, well, it's just according to Tim-Cleetus-whatever, Jack is being held captive inside an old church in a small ghost town outside Butte."

Dean slapped his hands over his mouth in mock surprise and then, taking a few steps toward George, he mimed a balloon being popped by an impractically large needle. He had an impossibly large grin spread across his face.

"She still has a point, Dean," Sam sighed in an annoyed, if not slightly embarrassed, tone at his brother's display.

Cas nodded in agreement, "Yes, you were incredibly condescending and unfriendly in your attempt at being friendly earlier. Even though she's wrong about Jack, she's right about your inability to relinquish control-to anyone, though, not specifically women."

"You all suck." Dean said flatly.

George ignored him and shook her head. She was more and more sure about her information by the second; despite her doubts she could feel she was right. "Listen, I'm telling you, Jack is not in some bullshit church in Montana. He's…" She struggled to remember. "Erg, somewhere rainy and wooded!"

"Rainy and wooded, you say?" She cringed angrily at the sound of Dean's voice. "That's really great, very helpful. Say, maybe we should look up your little murder buddy-OwnsHisOwnAxe69, was it?-and ask if he's got Jack stashed in the Marin Headlands?" Dean's voice dripped with sarcasm.

George shook her head at him and closed her eyes tight in an effort to block out his negativity. Walking slowly away from him and into the map room, she started talking to herself, in a pointedly loud voice. Her focus bounced between episodes from the show and conversations with her friend, Ryan, a Supernatural Encyclopedia. She was hoping she could piece together something useful.

"OK, hang on, Jack is born, gets sucked into Apocalypse World, comes back, has his grace stolen but he's safely with you guys, he's happy, he's great-albeit, moody and not the best at video games. Then he disappears and you can't find him, yadda yadda."

While she rambled, her mind's eye began conjuring images of what she assumed were scenes from the episode she was trying to think of. While helpful, it was also disconcerting since she'd never actually seen it. She thought perhaps she'd seen clips on youtube while watching bloopers? She never could stay away from them, even if she hadn't seen the episode yet; they were just too funny. Maybe her overactive imagination was just creating scenes around what little knowledge she did have, "...and there's an epic-potentially deadly-fight scene at the end of one of the last episodes of the season. An episode that was, oh so noteworthily filmed on location iiiiinnn…" She tried to demand that her memories behave for her but it was challenging, considering she shouldn't have any memories of having watched the damn thing at all. "...where? Fuck me!" She snarled, chasing desperately after her murky visions as they swirled too abstractly for her to discern.

In a sudden moment of unusual clarity she could see the words displayed behind her eyelids. '...False Klamath? Where the fuck… why does that sound familiar? She flashed to the location in her memories and saw big wooden statues towering outside the scenic little tourist trap

Her eyes popped open with a gasp, "Johnny Appleseed!"

"Johnny Appleseed?" Dean teased, mock exasperatedly, "We're trying to find JACK."

"The Johnny Appleseed statue at The Trees of Enigma! Just outside False Klamath, Oregon!" She slammed both her hands down on the table in front of her in uncontrollably jubilant victory. "HA! Take THAT!" She jumped up excitedly and punched her fist in the air. "I did it! I remembered!"

"Sam, can you translate any of this?" Dean asked, annoyed.

"On the show," She started smugly, before Sam could say anything, "the battle that you two get into when you find Jack, takes place at a tourist spot called The Trees of Enigma. The episode was filmed on location at said tourist spot, in-say it with me now-False Klamath, Oregon. Oregon, Dean. A place that is known for being both rainy and wooded." Her finger was placed on the map table in the general area of Oregon, "that's where you'll find Jack. I'm sure of it." Her adrenaline was pumping and she was so stoked. It felt really good to be useful; like she was part of the show!

"Yea, that's great, sounds fun," Dean started dismissively, though toned down a bit, "but we're not risking Jack's life to follow your hunch."

"Excuse me. Why is my so-called hunch less believable than a demon's word? Especially a demon named Cleetus. Rude," George looked particularly offended now.

"Tim gave us real, solid intel and we've never had a problem when we've relied on our trusted resources in the past," He answered confidently. George's head jerked toward him like she hadn't heard correctly and she gave Sam and Castiel some crazy eyebrows.

"Sorry, you understand that I do watch the show, right?" She asked rhetorically, with a doubtful expression. When he rolled his eyes, she let out a frustrated huff. "Dean, think about this! He's a demon! He lies! Look, I know you have no reason in the world to trust me but you've got to; just think about it. Even IF it is demons that have Jack, don't you think it's possible that the prisoner demon you're threatening to torture might give you a false lead? Especially if he's naive enough to think he'll be able to escape and doesn't want to get in trouble with his bosses? C'mon, this is not-the-sharpest-tack-Tim we're talking about!"

Sam and Castiel had agreeably expressions but Dean's was stubbornly disagreeable, though she could tell he knew she was right. The thought of them going to Montana gave her a dreadful, suffocating feeling, like death.

So, she tried one more tactic and held her hands up in prayer, "Dean please, I don't know what and I don't know how I know, but I know in my gut that if you go to Montana, something terrible will happen. And Jack's not there, I promise you." She dropped all the bullshit and gave him her best seriously-just-listen-to-me face but Dean still wasn't budging.

"Christ, I knew you were stubborn but this is ridiculous, ugh. OK, fine!" She threw her hands up and turned on her heel, heading toward the dungeon.

"Wait, where are you going?" Sam asked quickly.

"Obviously I didn't hurt his feelings badly enough the first time, so I'm going to go have another chat with Cleetus and get him to admit that he's a liar, liar, pant-"

"Er-you... can't do that," Sam cut her off apologetically.

"Sam, he's handcuffed to a chair. I appreciate the concern but-"

"He means you really can't," Dean added. George looked toward him annoyed and Dean continued, "After he gave us everything we needed we pretty much, chk," he finished, slicing a finger across his throat in demonstration. When she looked like she wanted to strangle him, he shrugged and offered, "RIP Cleetus."

George rolled her eyes in exasperation, "But he was lying! Don't you confirm the information before you cut off the source?! Oh my god, why am I even asking? You're the Winchesters, of course you don't." The three of men looked between each other guiltily and she placed her hand on her hip, "What if that was just an act and Tim saw an opportunity. Feeding you some bullshit so that you couldn't actually find Jack? Or, maybe Tim has nothing to do with Jack at all, and sending you to Montana is just a good old fashioned ambush?!" She paused for a moment and gave a surprised, appreciative nod, "Hmm, maybe I underestimated ole' Cleetus a bit. Could have been smarter than I thought."

"She does have a point, Dean. The chances that he was lying are incredibly high," Cas conceded slightly, giving Dean a questioning look. "We have no proof that his lead is any better than hers. Demon's lie."

"Damnit, alright, fine," Dean said, sighing angrily. "Sam and I will go to Oregon to look for Jack; Cas, check out Butte-carefully, strictly recon, do not engage-and call us if you find any trace of him." He shot a quick warning look at George. "We'll turn around and come right to you. Sound like a plan? Great, let's go."

"Wait, no! Don't send him to Butte! Didn't you hear me? If it's an ambush, he'll get his ass kicked!"

"Hey." Cas looked hurt and George softened her face at him.

"Oh, I'm sorry Castiel. You're a total badass when the plot calls for it, otherwise, getting beat up is just kind of your MO." Ignoring the confused look on the angel's face, She turned back to Dean, "and besides you need Castiel in Oregon, Dean. I've seen it!"

"Oh? I thought you hadn't 'seen this episode yet'?" Dean said sarcastically.

"I-I… Well, OK, I haven't, but I've seen the three of you and Jack all together for this fight. Just trust me, you need him there. What if Jack is hurt when you find him? Cas can heal him, right?" She made a questioning face to Castiel; at the moment she couldn't remember the extent of his powers on the show and he was always losing one or another for whatever reason, anyway. But if she was right, she figured that even if Dean wouldn't trust her gut, he might trust that having a healing angel on their journey would be a benefit. "Is that a power you have? I feel like I've seen you do that."

"She's right, Dean. I can heal him if we find him injured," Cas offered her helpfully and she shot him a grateful expression, actually looking him in the eyes for the first time, albeit fleetingly.

"Have you seen Jack get hurt?" Sam asked her, trying to help, too. He remained a neutral party at this point, but if he was honest with himself, he believed her. Maybe a little too much, which is why he was trying to stay impartial. If he was being blinded by his confusing memories and the undeniable-yet-currently-being-denied feelings he was developing for her and ended up wrong, Jack could be killed.

"Uh… I mean, no… not definitively, but it's pretty standard for the show. You're all constantly getting hurt during fights and when it's close to a season finale the danger factor is skyhigh for anyone who isn't you two…" After motioning to the brothers, she trailed off, afraid that this reasoning was going to hurt her more than help her.

Sam gave her a long, contemplative look before finally offering, "I can have a small team go check out Butte. Maybe Garth can join? Last time I talked to him he was near there."

Dean's teeth and fists were clenched as he took a deep, exaggerated breath, "Fine. We'll send a group to Butte and call Garth from the road-No arguments!" He held up his hand to her as she opened her mouth to speak. "The three of us are going to Oregon, just as you demand, but I'm not leaving anything to chance on some alien's hunch. Garth can handle himself."

She made an indignant face at him-she wasn't an alien, she was from an alternate reality! Get it right. But, while she was afraid of someone getting hurt in the obvious trap that had been set for them in Montana, the thought of Garth going instead didn't give her the same full-body fear shudder. So, she figured she'd take what she could get and not push the issue further. Besides, she knew Dean wasn't going to be happy about her next move and she had to pick her battles.

#supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester x original character #sam winchester x original female character #swearing #humor #eventual smut #eventual relationship #slow burn #eventual dean winchester x oc #eventual dean winchester x castiel #bi dean

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sarahwroteathing · 4 years

Note

It looks good on you with Samuel! 😍

“Alright, what are we looking for?” you asked, giving Sam’s arm a squeeze before setting off to examine the coats and jackets on the store racks.

Sam mumbled a grumpy reply that you were almost positive was unhelpful as he flicked through a few hangers. He had been very fond of his last coat, but a surveillance mission gone wrong had left it with several grim and jagged tears that may or may not have been Bucky’s fault, depending on who you asked. Sam had been in a terrible mood ever since, and you were doing your best to cheer him up with the promise of a new coat, one that you would pay for.

“I can’t be your personal shopper if you don’t tell me what you want, Sam,” you said in a sing-song voice, making your way back to his side. “Let’s have a long and detailed conversation about your personal aesthetic. Promise I won’t record it and sell it to a fashion magazine.”

An amused eye roll. That was progress.

“Preferred color palette? Robin egg blue? Canary yellow? Cardinal red? Raven black? I’m running out of birds, please say something.”

“Seems like you’re on a roll. Don’t let me stop you.”

“Oh, you didn’t even sound homicidal that time! It’s a miracle!” You threw your arms around him excitedly while he sighed.

“I’m sorry I’m being an asshole. I’m not mad at you,” Sam said, hugging you back.

“I know, and soon you won’t be mad at all because we’re going to fix it. Now, do we want…”

You wandered off, scanning the selection around you.

“Classy and sophisticated?” you asked, pulling a classic wool coat and matching scarf from the rack.

“Too cool to be cold?” A sharp leather jacket joined the first.

“Charming lumberjack?” A flannel coat draped over your arm.

“Cozy marshmallow man?” Sam snorted when you held up the fluffy coat.

“That sounds appealing.”

“Not necessarily the most fashionable, but you’d be warm and very huggable,” you reasoned with a shrug, dumping the assembled pile of coats into his arms. “Mirror is this way. Let’s go.”

When the coats had been deposited into a nearby chair and Sam was properly positioned in front of the mirror, you began the very thorough vetting process. You helped him into each one in turn (”I know you can do it yourself. It’s called being a gentleman, Sam”). Maybe you didn’t really need to smooth your hands over his shoulders or adjust the collar every time, but the light was starting to return to Sam’s eyes and he smiled a little when you touched him, so you kept up the pretenses.

You made a few substitutions in both styles and sizes, but eventually you narrowed it down to two options.

“Which one do you feel better in?” you asked, the backs of your fingers brushing his hand while you gave the cuff a thoughtful tug.

“Which one do I look better in?” he shot back, smirking when you shot him an exasperated glance in the mirror. “This was your idea. You said you wanted to help.”

“Sam Wilson, you know damn well you look good in both of them. Come on, there has to be something that sets them apart for you.”

“You try them on!” he said, shrugging out of the grey coat he was currently wearing and holding it out for you.

“What? No! Why?” You protested as he draped it over your shoulders.

“You used to wear my last one a lot, so if we’re getting a replacement, then - ”

“I did not! Just when I got cold and didn’t feel like going to get my - If it annoyed you, I’m sorry. You should have said something.”

But Sam’s eyes were soft when they met yours in the mirror, and it was his turn to run his hands over your shoulders.

“Nah, it’s okay. It’s part of why I liked that one so much.”

You broke eye contact with a self-conscious cough, fidgeting with the sleeves for a few seconds before nudging Sam with your elbow.

“Better let me try on the other one then.”

“You got it.”

Sam repeated the by-now familiar process of unnecessary adjustments once the new coat was in place, but his smile was a little wider now.

“It looks good on you,” you said at the same time, and you scoffed while Sam eyed you curiously.

“What does?”

“Your smile. It was cute,” you explained with a shrug.

“Thank you,” he said, another smile spreading across his face. “And you look cute in that jacket.”

“Does that make this the one?” you asked, trying your hardest to appear unflustered as you slipped out of the jacket and handed it back to him.

“I don’t know. Are you going to steal it from me?” Sam took a step closer to you.

“I promise you that I will.”

“Good.”

#sam wilson x reader #drabble game

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razorblade180 · 5 years

Text

Patriarchal Prison

[Schnee Manor]

*the middle of the night*

Whitley:Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!

Klein:* bust into room* Master Whitley, what is the- oh my....

*room snowing and Whitley incased in ice. Ice rods from his arms connect to the ceiling*

Whitley:*Panicing* I can’t move! W...what is going on!?

Klein:Sir please come down. I’ve seen this before.

Whitley:You what?

Klein:*Walking away*

Whitley:Don’t leave! I need help.

Klein:Don’t worry, I know just what to do. Luckily your sister is home.

*five minutes later*

Weiss:*night gown* Sigh, Whitley what do you-oh! Well would you look at that. You’re sleep freezing *sees snow on the ground* bout time. Winter would love to see this.

Whitley:Sleep freezing? This is normal?

Weiss:Your semblance has finally unlocked. It happened to Winter and I when we awakened ours. It’s just proof you’re growing up.

Whitley:Well how do I get out?

Weiss:hmmm, Klein can you prepare two hot chocolates and bring my sword. Keep the hot chocolate on the stove.

Klein:Right away *leaves the room*

Weiss:*inspecting the him* Are these rods? Pillars maybe? I got to say you really did your room a number ; it’s freezing.

Klein:*hands her sword and leaves*

Weiss:Thank you Klein. *creates a heat wave*

*almost entire room returns to normal*

Weiss:That’s more like. *trying to warm up*

Whitley:*still trapped*Aren’t you forgetting something important?

Weiss:Oh I can’t unfreeze you.

Whitley:What!?

Weiss:*points to glyph under him* That glyph is keeping you like this. Fire dust won’t really work; also I don’t want to burn your room down.

Whitley:*struggling* Are you saying I’m trapped like this!?

Weiss:Until your aura runs out; I can unfreeze you then. But.....

Whitley:But what?

Weiss:You’ll freeze again next time you fall asleep. Only you can stop this permanently by stopping the glyph by yourself.

Whitley:Well aren’t you helpful?

Weiss:Hey, consider yourself lucky. Winter had to figure all this stuff out alone and had to get Klein to smash her jail bars when she went through this. She almost got frostbite bite until she figured it out.

Whitley:Jail bars?

Weiss:That’s what she kept making every night. A small jail cell with our crest on it. None of us made the same thing.

Whitley:What did you keep making?

Weiss:....A bird cage.

Whitley:That’s....random.

Weiss:Not really *somber* Our creations represent our mindsets; the way we feel about father.

Whitley:oh...so her jail cell was...

Weiss:Her way of calling her time here a prison. She only got out when she learned to move past that idea.

Whitley:*examines himself* (I know exactly what I’m in...) Wait, I get a jail cell. A bird cage though, that’s a bit strange.

Weiss:Oh, I guess I never told you huh? Figures, we’re only now starting to get on good speaking terms.

Whitley:Told me what exactly?

Weiss:....The reason I started to hate you.

Whitley:......

Weiss:*takes a deep breath* You may or may not remember this but either way you should know I’m in the wrong here.

Whitley:Okay.....

Weiss:Your fifth birthday was coming up and like any little kid you were excited. *chuckles* I remember Klein constantly had to tell you that lie about little boys who sit still get more presents.

Whitley:*small smile* I remember it didn’t work and I tried sneaking into cellar to see if anyone hid them down there. I also remember tumbling down though steps; hard.

Weiss:*Wincing* You scraped your knee really bad. I ended up picking you up and carrying you back up because “you thought it was shattered.” Always so dramatic.

Whitley:*red* Whatever....I was basically five.

Weiss:You kept crying and crying even after you got patched up. I finally got fed up with it and started singing you a song to distract you. It ended up making you feel better.

Whitley:It was the first time I heard you sing. You caught me by surprise. I remember wanting to hear it again so I- ...... oh

Weiss:When your birthday finally came around you only wanted me to sing happy birthday. I would’ve said no but father was there and you would’ve cried. So I sang Happy Birthday; in front of him, his advisors, and the rest of snobs trying to get friendly with him.

Whitley:That was the first time you ever sang in public wasn’t it?

Weiss:Yep, and they liked it just as much or more than you. I’m typical opportunist fashion, father saw how people adored the voice of Weiss Schnee. By next morning, I’m taking singing lessons everyday. Just so he can use my talent to gain profit; I was basically his little canary. Singing to draw attention.

Whitley:Hence the bird cage....

Weiss:For years I blamed you and your constant whining for things to go your way for my situation. It wasn’t right though; all you wanted was to hear your big sis sing and it’s not like he wouldn’t have found out eventually. I despised you for enjoying my talent like everyone else; I’m sorry.

Whitley:*sigh* I...can’t really blame you. I’d be pretty pissed too in all honesty. We’ll call it even.

Weiss:Even?

Whitley:Your tenth birthday; the fight between mother and father because you wanted him to show and he didn’t.

Weiss:I remember....

Whitley:That was the last day we saw any motherly love. I always blamed you for her phoning it in on us. Even though I probably shouldn’t have.

Weiss:You were eight; of course you’d be upset. I was so upset I even blamed myself over it.

Whitley:Geez, our parents really are something huh?

Weiss:If we can even really call them that.

*both chuckle slightly*

Weiss:I least we had Winter right?

Whitley:*reserved* Actually you had Winter. Too you young to really interact remember? She was already heading to Atlas by the time I actually started to matter to this house.

Weiss:And then I went to Beacon. I really left you all alone didn’t I? *rubs his face* some big sister I turned out to be.

Whitley:Eh I wasn’t exactly being the best younger sibling. This manor really is a prison though; I can’t fault you from leaving.

Weiss:Well I’m here now at least. *smiles*

Whitley:Yeah, you are aren’t you? *smiles* too bad you can’t do anything to help my current situation.

Weiss:Oh yeah, *pulls on Ice rod* still not budging.

Whitley:That reminds me, How’d you open your bird cage.

Weiss:Simple, Winter and my fans showed me something real important. Something you showed me on your fifth birthday.

Whitley:?

Weiss:It doesn’t matter if he profits off of me. I’m using my gift to cause real smiles; that’s something he can never take. Just like that, the bird cage faded.

Whitley:That simple huh? Just owning what you have?

Weiss:Winter realized she didn’t have to be bound by his rules, I took back owner ship of my talents, and you...*looks at him*

Whitley:.....

Weiss:When will you realize you’re not his puppet to control. *looks at the rods* those are supposed to strings aren’t they?

Whitley:It’s easy to reclaim a talent someone uses Weiss. What’s not easy is looking in a mirror and accepting just how much you look like the person you hate the most.

Weiss:.....

Whitley:Everyday is a constant reminder. No matter what I say or do it’s “Just like Jacques.” I can’t stand it

“You shouldn’t have to”

Winter: *walking in with the hot chocolate* People are always gonna judge and compare. It’s important to not let it weigh you down. Or bind you in this case.

Weiss:Winter!?

Whitley:Why are you here?

Winter:Isn’t it obvious? To make sure you don’t freeze. I took a job close to home cause I figured this would be happening soon.

Klein:She rushes over as soon as I called her.

Whitley:....

Winter:*looks around the room* to be honest I was really hoping that at least you would thrive in this house. Guess we’re all sick of his influence.

Weiss:He’s really stuck in there. The glyph doesn’t even look like it’ll stop anytime soon.

Winter:*staring at Whitley* It doesn’t have to. He’s gonna breakout right now. First try.

Whitley:Like that will happen. Even you-

Winter:You’re not me are you? You’re not any of us. You’re Whitley Schnee. You’re more intelligent than I was at your age and more in control of your feelings then Weiss was.

Weiss:She’s right you know? Most importantly though, your leagues better than Father. You might look like him but that’s the only thing. He doesn’t even have a semblance.

Winter:Or the humility to see his own faults. *sips out of mug* He doesn’t even like cocoa. *holds out a mug* what about you.

Whitley:....Honestly you two.... *reaches for mug; breaking the ice apart* who doesn’t like cocoa? *sips* it’s basically the best thing for a cold house.

Winter:See? Completely different in every way. Told you that you can do it.

Whitley:Thanks...both of you.

Weiss:Don’t sweat it. We’ve all been there.

Whitley:I’m guessing it’s time to actually call it night this time....

Winter:Well...I’m already over here and have nothing planned.

Weiss:I’m actually not tired anymore so... maybe we should just spend sometime together. Haven’t done that in years.

Whitley:Klein?

Klein:*smiles* I’ll make more beverages.

Whitley:Actually I was gonna say go rest. We can take of everything from here.

Klein:Why I do believe you can. *closes door* hehehe *looks at an old picture* I do believe you can indeed.

#rwby #whitley schnee #weiss schnee #winter schnee #schneeblings #rwby klein

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thefifthclown · 5 years

Text

Part 1, Chapter 2-The First Murder; Scene 3

Fifth, Pierrot, pages 59-70

October 6th, 2AM.

It had been about two months since the presidential inauguration party.

Lemy had singlehandedly invaded the Corpa estate.

This was, of course, the first time he had snuck into another person’s home.

He’d been worried the entire time if it would go well or not, but he had gotten in surprisingly easily. It seemed the rumors of Ton not hiring many guards out of his skinflint nature were true.

It’s pitch-black…But it’s better not to have any lights. You’ll have to head to Rin’s room through fumbling around, Ney was whispering.

Lemy obeyed her instructions, and pressed on step by step with his hand on the wall.

Be careful. If you’re caught it certainly won’t be a good thing for you or your mother.

He knew that already.

Lemy replied that in his mind.

--Lemy had tried to meet with Rin several times since the inauguration party, but it never worked out.

The very next day after she’d sung at the party she was no longer in the Republic of Lucifenia. She was holding a concert in the nearby country of Asmodean.

After that concert was over, then she was holding a performance in Elphegort, and she didn’t return to Lucifenia until the middle of September.

But there some mistrust began to grow for Rin. One of her associates confessed that she wasn’t actually singing. That someone else was singing for her behind the stage.

Rin shut herself up in the Corpa estate, and denied all meetings with anyone. Though Lemy had gone to the Corpa mansion, he’d been immediately turned away at the gate.

He didn’t know if Ton was a bad man or not. But right now, it was clear that Rin was in a crisis.

He wanted to meet and talk with her somehow. If she was suffering then he wanted to cheer her up, and if Ton was the kind of man that Bruno said, he would have to take action to save her from that place.

However, Lemy couldn’t come up with any good means for doing that.

As he was puzzling over this, Ney had then suggested to him:

If you can’t meet with her, then you should force your way inside, shouldn’t you?

Impossible. He could never pull something like that off. Lemy had objected.

Don’t worry. I’ll help you with it.

Ney would say things like that from time to time.

But Lemy had always figured that, as she could do nothing but speak to him, there wasn’t anything she could possibly do.

Even so, no matter how he tried he couldn’t overcome his desire to meet with Rin again.

This was Ney’s plan of attack.

First, he would dress up as one of the circus members currently staying there as preparation for the performance in Milanais Theater, and enter the gardens of the Corpa estate. And then, when night fell and everyone was fast asleep, he would make his way into the mansion and go see Rin—

It was an extremely simple strategy, but it worked like a charm.

Right now, Lemy was walking through the Corpa mansion dressed as a pierrot. This getup was perfect as a disguise.

With his face all painted white, even if he was discovered his identity wouldn’t be easily found out.

The problem was which room Rin was in. This was the first time he’d been inside Ton’s mansion, and so naturally Lemy didn’t know anything of its layout.

Hey…Listen up real closely. …Can’t you hear someone crying somewhere? You’ve got good ears, you should hear it.

Just as Ney said, he could faintly hear the sound of a girl crying somewhere up above them.

Maybe that’s Rin. Look for the stairs. She must be somewhere upstairs.

Following the crying voice, after stumbling several times on the stairwell, Lemy finally arrived at a room on the second floor.

He could hear the voice on the other side of the door. Now that he was so close, he could clearly hear it. Without a doubt, that was Rin crying.

Lemy quickly knocked on the door twice, trying as hard as he could not to make the noise stand out.

When he did, the crying he could hear stopped.

“…Who is it? Mr. Ton?”

“—It’s me. Remember? Lemy. Lemy, your friend from the orphanage,” Lemy replied in a whisper.

“…Lemy? Lemy!? What are you doing here—”

“I came here to talk to you. Please, let me in.”

After a moment, a reply came.

“…I can’t. It’s impossible. The door is locked from the outside, I can’t open it from in here.”

Did that mean she was trapped in there?

“Who has the key?”

“Mr. Ton. He always has it on his person.”

Then there was nothing to do for it. Naturally, meeting with Ton at this point would be far too dangerous.

To come all this way and still not be able to see Rin—

…If it’s a key you want, you’ve got it. Ney suddenly said.

“Huh!?”

Put your hand in your left pants pocket and see.

When he did so, he felt something in his pocket. It was hard to see in the dark, but it looked like a key.

“When did—”

That key can open up any door. Try it out.

Lemy fumbled for the keyhole on the door, and then put the key inside.

--The door readily opened. The light of the room filled his vision, and for a moment Lemy was blinded.

“Lemy…”

Rin was there when his eyes cleared up. Her features may have been entirely different from when she was in the orphanage, but her voice was unmistakably the same.

“Rin…long time no see,” Lemy said.

Rin shook her head a few times. “Oh no. I saw you before at the Lucifenian Palace too.”

“You noticed me?”

“Yeah. I saw you from the stage. You weren’t really listening to my song, just talking with the blue-haired man next to you the whole time.”

“Oh, no…It’s not that I wasn’t listeni—” he flusteredly tried to explain.

But before that she whispered, “It’s okay. It wasn’t me singing after all.”

“…So it’s true that someone else has been singing for you?”

Rin looked a little conflicted, but eventually she told him, as though having made her resolve, “Lemy, please! Take me away from here! If this keeps up I’ll be killed!”

“--! What!?”

“Now that it’s out that I haven’t been singing…now that the newspaper’s written that…Mr. Ton has killed Chansaux in the basement to hide the evidence.”

“Who’s Chansaux?”

“The girl who was singing in my place…Mr. Ton found her somewhere. But…I think Mr. Ton plans to kill me too, and make the whole thing go away. I heard him telling someone that he was just going to ‘find a new one’!”

It seemed that Bruno’s words had proved true.

Lemy’s heart simmered with overflowing rage.

This Ton Corpa—Nothing but a bastard pig who uses children to make money for himself!

“—Got it. Let’s go, Rin. First we’ve gotta get out of here.”

Lemy grabbed Rin’s hand, and then turned around.

He moved ahead carefully so as to not make any sound. And then, just as they were about to leave the room—

“Looks like a rat--or rather some pierrot—has made his way in here from somewhere.”

They encountered a man with a belly so big as to almost fill up the entire hallway.

“Mr. Ton…!” Rin screamed.

So this was Ton Corpa.

Son of a gun. He really was ugly like a pig.

“Where do you think you’re going with Rin, young man?”

“…Get out of the way.”

“Can’t do that. She knows too much. I have no use for a canary who can’t sing anymore. I have to put her down...You too,” Ton said, taking out a silver knife.

Lemy had no weapons on him. Even if he had, it probably wouldn’t have done him much good. Nobody had ever taught him how to use one.

Even so, Lemy regretted not having at least brought a frying pan or something to protect himself.

How pathetic. Your legs are shaking.

Ney had taunted him, but at that moment Lemy didn’t have the wherewithal to return fire.

The last time he’d been in a tight spot like this—it had been three years earlier.

“Who are you, youngster? Who sent you here?” Ton asked.

Of course, he couldn’t answer that honestly like a fool.

On the spur of the moment, Lemy told him, “I’m…Pierrot…Yeah, I’m ‘Fifth, Pierrot’!”

It was the name of the clown that had saved Lemy in that back alley three years before.

“Fifth…Pierrot!?” Upon hearing that name, Ton’s expression changed.

--Perhaps he also knew of that clown?

Ton’s fat body began to tremble all over.

“You’re from ‘Pere Noel’…So you’ve finally come to deal with me as your competition, huh?”

His tone was mixed with both fear and anger.

“But…Heh heh heh, how amusing that the true identity of that assassin ‘Fifth, Pierrot’ would be a little brat like you. Seems like I can manage in that case.”

Ton gradually closed the distance between him and the two kids, unflinching.

--What should he do? The way this was going—

Want me to save you? Ney was whispering again.

“…Ney. What should I do?”

Of course it was hard to imagine that Ney could do anything.

But right now he had no choice but to cling to her words.

There’s nothing difficult about this. Just…have some hope. Have some courage. And—Think to yourself that you want to do this…Yes--

Give over.

Everything.

To yourself.

--Had he lost consciousness?

Or had he not?

Lemy couldn’t really tell.

At any rate it felt to him as though he’d just done something while in a dreamlike state.

The only thing he was sure of was that when Lemy came to himself, laying at his feet was--

Ton Corpa.

There was the pig, his eyes wide open, not even a twitch of movement from him.

“Lemy…How could you have…?” When he turned around there was Rin, pale. “How could you have killed a person—“

For a moment Lemy couldn’t understand what she was saying.

“Me? …You’re saying that I killed him?”

He looked once more to his feet.

Stabbed deep into Ton’s back as he lay there, fallen, was a silver knife.

He had never touched a knife until then.

The idea that he could have taken the knife from Ton as he attacked, quickly circled him and stabbed that knife into his back—could that have happened?

Lemy didn’t know. He couldn’t remember.

“Yeah. Mr. Ton…I mean he was certainly a wicked person but…But! That didn’t mean you had to kill him!”

“…I had no choice. If I hadn’t, we would be the ones that were—“

“You’re lying! If you had no choice then why are you—“ Rin said to Lemy, trembling, “—Why are you smiling like that?”

…Smiling? Me?

Even though—Even though I had killed someone, was I excited over it?

I don’t know. I don’t know, but—

Right now—

“…Anyway, we should get out of here, Rin.”

Lemy tried to get closer to Rin.

But she pushed his hand away, taking a few steps back.

“No…stay back…you—you murderer!”

As she looked at Lemy, Rin’s eyes were full of fear.

<<prev------directory------next>>

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firemedicdiaz · 5 years

Text

600 Follower Ficlet (7/10)

Reposting because apparently Tumblr went back and flagged this sometime in the last couple of weeks.

So much for writing not being affected by the purge even months after the algorithm went live...

You’re sitting propped up on a bio bed in the med bay, glancing around to keep yourself occupied as you suck oxygen, recovering from a bit of smoke inhalation after a small explosion down in engineering a short while earlier. The mask fogs every time you breathe out and it’s starting to get uncomfortable around the edges, but you know you’re stuck there being monitored for the foreseeable future thanks to your overbearing boyfriend’s overcautious nature. He’s not the one managing your case, but he’s breathing down M’Benga’s neck and you’re amazed at how the other doctor manages to keep his cool with Leonard trying to micromanage him. You’ve tried to tell him that you’re fine and that he can stand down, but you can see the way he looks at you every time he breezes by outside of the cubicle you’re in in between patients and you know your words fall on deaf ears.

Your attention is diverted away from your thoughts as you hear footsteps approach and you turn your head just in time to see Dr. M’Benga step up to your side, a warm smile on his face and a tricorder in his hand. The smile fades as he glances down for a moment and you wonder what’s got him concerned. Following his gaze, your eyes fall on a few dark, angry-looking bruises on your inner, upper thighs. They’d been hidden away earlier, but somehow in your shifting on the bed your skirt had ridden up and exposed them to the world and as the implications sink in, blood rushes to your face so quickly you almost feel dizzy.

“Where did this bruising come from?” Dr. M’Benga asks lightly, leaning closer to inspect the marks.

Another set of footsteps approaches the bed and even without glancing up you know it’s Len. Sighing, you look up at your boyfriend, shooting him a brief glare - to which he responds with a wink and a wicked smile before shuffling off - and then dropping your head back against the pillow on the bed.

“You really don’t need to worry about them,” you reply, reaching down to tug your skirt back into place properly. “May I have a blanket, please?”

You know your meaning isn’t lost on M’Benga as he glances up again, meeting your gaze with a smile. He fetches you a blanket and you swear you hear him chuckle softly as he drapes it over your lower half but before you can really cotton onto his amusement, he’s checking your vitals and listening to your lungs and so you keep quiet instead, resigning yourself to the fact that by the end of the day, every staff member in medical will undoubtedly be aware of you and Leonard’s bedroom proclivities.

Satisfied with your condition, Dr. M’Benga leaves your side, promising you just an hour or two more under his observation before he gives you your freedom. You huff into your oxygen mask and nod, resigning yourself to staring out at med bay before you and watching the staff make their rounds.

Over the next hour, Leonard crosses your line of sight more than you think is strictly necessary, and every time he does, he’s got that Cheshire grin on his face. You roll your eyes at him every time his gaze meets yours but he’s hardly dissuaded. Eventually you give up even trying and just relax against the pillows, staring at the ceiling instead.

You don’t even realize that you’ve dozed off until a touch at your arm is pulling you out of a dream and you blink rapidly a few times, adjusting to the overhead lighting and the sights around you again.

“Hey darlin’,” Leonard says from your side, still grinning like the cat that caught the canary. “How are you feeling?”

“Get that smug smile off of your face,” you grouse, your words garbled by the mask still supplying you with a steady stream of oxygen.

“What’s the matter?” He teases. “I thought you liked my smug smile.”

You roll your eyes as he reaches to pluck the mask off of your face, giving you the chance to breathe room air for the first time in a few hours. Despite the recycled quality to the ambient air, you’re relieved to be free.

“You know damn well I like everything about you,” you grumble. “But people are going to be talking about this for weeks. Hell, Jim’s going to be running through the halls, singing it to the heavens and to anyone who will listen that the venerable Dr. McCoy likes it rough in bed.”

Leonard laughs as he glances at the figures on the bio bed’s display and he playfully ruffles your hair.

“I’m serious!” You huff. “What are you going to do? You know he’ll never let you live it down.”

He shrugs and reaches out, tipping your head back a bit with a finger under your chin, focusing on something at your jaw line.

“I’ll just leave a few more bruises like these on you,” he replies. “And show you off afterward. He’ll stop when he realizes I’m not ashamed.”

You feel the blood pool in your cheeks and you groan at the thought of the entire ship getting a good look at the marks Leonard is capable of leaving on your skin in the heat of passion. You close your eyes and try to calm your suddenly racing heart at the mere thought of how you could potentially procure more of said marks.

“Relax, darlin’,” Leonard murmurs, suddenly very close to you. “Geoff’s never going to let you out of here if you keep this up, and then we’ll be stuck waiting even longer to take this back to the bedroom...”

You gasp into the kiss as he presses his lips to yours and inhale sharply. The breath tickles your irritated throat and you pull away just in time to cough. Leonard reaches out and gently squeezes your shoulder, stroking it with his thumb until you’ve recovered your faculties. Once your breathing evens out, you glance up at him and shoot him another glare.

“Now you’re just trying to kill me,” you razz.

Leonard laughs once more as Geoff steps into view, approaching your bed, concerned in the wake of the coughs he’d heard from a short distance away. As he gets to work on reassessing you, Leonard takes his leave with a wink.

“If you think that was too much, just wait until you see what I’ve got in store for you later...”

#Star Trek AOS #Leonard McCoy #reader insert #lemon

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 5 years

Text

This is my son

So in honor of YJ: Outsiders and the fact that we have an onscreen view of Amistad. Here is a little fic I did ages ago of how Rocket may have introduced her son to the Team. Lots of info was taken from the comics since the show doesn’t explore Raquel’s past a lot. Hope you enjoy.

Raquel sighed as she settled a fussy Amistad for bedtime. She had to read him three books by Dr. Seuss and sing to him before his eyes even started to droop. He was a stubborn little boy, sorta like her. She gently rocked his blue cradle before turning off the lights to his room.

She padded downstairs and glanced at the old Colonial grandfather clock. 11 pm. It was that late, maybe if she tried to really hard, she could write her economics proposal now, half of her History essay and then finish it in the morning along with her trigonometry homework.

She shook her head as she thought over the coming morning, she'd have to do both essays right now especially if Amistad won't eat his food right away. It's a literal battle to feed him, and then get him out of the house to daycare. She hated the thought of dealing with him when he gets older.

She settled on the living room couch spend out the books she needed and her laptop on her lap with a tray of coffee cups.

She had crunched through the history essay. It was defiantly not her best but it would have to do, she'd settle for a C at the least.

Then Augustus Freeman aka the superhero alien known as Icon came in.

"Raquel you're still up?"

"No, I'm sleep-walking. Yes I'm still awake" Raquel snapped back sarcastically.

"You do know that you have training with the Team tomorrow afternoon right?" Raquel groaned.

The life of a teenage superhero. She recently joined a Team of teenage superheroes who no longer wanted to be treated as sidekicks. Batman (yes that freakin Batman!) was the one who assigned them black ops missions as they saved the world.

Unlike some of the sidekicks like Robin or Aqualad, she had only become a superhero two years ago when she and her ex-boyfriend, Noble (the irony) had tried to steal some stuff from this old Colonial house that had been standing since the Civil War.

While Noble looked for things to loot, she had been fascinated by the immense library the house had. She always loved to read and dreamed of becoming a writer, so that room was like a personal heaven for her. She wanted to just curl up on the old couch and look at the gleaming hardcover volumes.

Then they saw the alien technology.

Unfortunately they hadn't counted for the house to be occupied by a superhero. Augustus Freeman, lawyer by day but in reality a three thousand year old alien, the last of his kind as all aliens that crash land to Earth seem to be, who fought for justice.

Though they had ran away that day, Raquel had returned to the house.

She had been the one to convince Augustus to become a superhero. He was Batman. She was his Robin. Icon had initially refused, but she kept needling him until he had decided to give it a go.

The city sure needed them as heroes. Dakota City may not be a Gotham in terms of danger, but there was plenty of violence and injustice that needed to be righted.

It had been a tense first months since Icon was so damn conservative and analytical while she was more impulsive, liberal and action-oriented. But they eventually made their partnership turn into a smooth in sync team.

Back back to her impulsive habits.

Something she wished she reined her impulsivity earlier. That same impulsiveness led her to agree to having sex with Noble. Their relationshop didn't last, him being an asshole had a major part to do with it. What did last was the fact that she had gotten pregnant.

Raquel never felt so miserable in her life. The taunts and the whispers and the same old comment, "Oh she's from Paris Island what did you expect?"

Abortion had been an option, Augustus highly advised it, and Noble even gave her the money to do it when he found out the news. But she quite obviously didn't get an abortion.

She asked and asked around for opinions and the answer was always "Yes, get one" but she had felt disappointed by that. She finally realized that disappointed was that she had wanted someone to say "No, keep the baby" because she, she wanted to see this through and have a baby. Not the smartest decision in the world, but it was her's nonetheless.

Despite his disapproval, Augustus had been very helpful when she had been pregnant. He dealt with her food cravings and mood swings, and buying baby stuff, reading parenting books and eventually with the labor. Amisted's middle name was Augustus in honor of her mentor, and she had asked him to be the godfather.

Her friend, Denise even stood in as Rocket for her while her baby bump started to show. Make that ex-friend. The girl ran off with Noble awhile later, insisting "He changed." So what? You don't date the ex that got your friend pregnant, it is a common friendship rule! She hoped they gave each other syphilis.

Eventually she settled into a routine of taking care of Amisted in the mornings, drop him off at daycare, go to school, take care of him until he fell asleep and then do homework at whatever hour at night. In the weekends it had been easier since she could spend the whole doing Mommy and Me stuff with Amistad and more leisure time while he napped.

Then she joined the Team, and things started to go a bit downhill. Besides the missions, they had required training sessions with Black Canary, and strategic planning with Captain Atom. And then, Miss Martian, such a sweetheart, always had plans for Team bonding time. It was a bit stressful with work and such, not that the team members didn't get that, they went to regular school too. But... She hadn't told them she had a son.

It's been four months now, and they had no clue. Just as she wanted. It had been a struggle, with the lies on why she was so tired, her refusals to join Team bonding (on account of being needed at home), her worry during overnight missions (IT WAS OVERNIGHT, WHO KNOWS WHAT MIGHT HAPPEN TO AMISTAD WHEN SHE'S GONE!!). She'd saying that she was babysitting her baby brother, but Robin was starting to question why she was always babysitting when her parents could do that.

There was one embarrassing incident, that she had fallen asleep next to Wally, when she heard the alarm, mistaken it for the baby monitor and started rocking Wally's head like how she usually rocked Amsted when he was crying. That involved a very interesting yet lame explanation about her Rosemary's Baby inspired dream.

It's just she always swore to herself that she wouldn't be the kind of teen mom that let all things go. That she failed at school, hardly cared for her child and did whatever she wanted. She did want to get straights As and be a good mother. She loved Amistad more than she loved anyone else in the whole world and the thought of someone trying to harm him made her want to kill. But it was all so stressful.

"You know, Raquel I'm sure they would understand.." Augustus started to say,

"Don't finish that sentence" Raquel scowled.

They had been having this argument ever since she joined the Team. "Just tell them you have a son, they'll be understanding." Augustus insisted.

Oh, no they wouldn’t. They're teenagers. No offense to her own kind but teens are very critical. And she did't want to further the stereotype that girls from the 'hood' were sluts that had babies and nothing else to show for the life.

Okay, yes she was from the hood and yes, she had a baby but that was where the parallels stopped!

Besides she wanted so badly to impress the Team with her maturity and bravery and just general heroics. The whole having a son thing would kind of ruin it.

Oh and ruin any possible love life.

Most boys at her school avoided her like a plague and those who didn't. Well they thought she was so easy because she had a child. Perverts.

She hated school for all the people and the Team was the only place she wasn't judged. Sure, she wasn't spending so much time hanging out with them as she would like too but she still appreciated hanging out with them. They were chill, and mature and they understood all the grey in life.

Grey like death, cloning, discriminations, things out of their control. They couldn't be blamed for being a White Martian, or raised by villains or having to kill people.

But grey situations like teen pregnancy hadn’t been out of her control. It had been her own stupid decision and there wasn't anyone to blame but herself.

"Raquel, they've been through a lot. They won't judge you so harshly."

"Yes they will" Raquel muttered bitterly.

"Raquel please think about it. It would be a lot easier on yourself. You could take Amistad to the Cave, and I'm sure Red Tornado could take care of him while you're on missions, I'll help of course. Please consider it."

Raquel didn't know why, but she was tired of hearing the same explanation of why she should tell. Augustus didn’t understand. It wasn’t like he went to work where people stared at him as if he were trash. He didn’t have to deal with the mothers gossiping about him when he picked Amistad up from daycare. He didn't have to explain to Amistad, why no one wanted to go on playdates with him.

"No, I cannot tell the Team, I just can't! Once I tell them, they’ll think I'm just another idiot that sleeps around. I have been trying so hard to go to school, and take care of Amistad, and live a normal life. But I can't! Sometimes I just wish he hadn't been born. Then I feel like a horrible mother because I do love him, I love him, he's he's my baby boy but it's it's...

I mean yeah, I always talk about how the Team is so mature and how they’ve been through stuff, but they wouldn't understand this. They're still teenagers. They’re gonna be like the kids at my school, offering me condoms and sending notes on HOW TO USE a condom.

You’ve got to believe me I did use one. I just didn't know how put it on okay. No one teaches you how to do that. They just say use it and you'll be safe. Well that didn’t worked did it?

The team cannot accept me. They won't. I'll spell it out for you. My own parents didn't accept me. They took me to the hospital, confirmed I was pregnant, and left me. They left me in the hospital and drove away. I spent three days in that hospital with nurses pitying me or scolding me on how I could have done this to myself and how I ruined my life!" Raquel shouted.

After those three days in the hospital, she had gone to Augustus’ house in tears and explained what happened. He had offered for her to live in the third floor of the old mansion and that's where she had stayed.

Eventually, months later, with a lot of prodding from Augustus she decided it was time to face her parents and confront them for what they did to her. She told him that they had refused to see her, but it didn't exactly go that way.

"And that time I told you I would face my parents after what they did to me. I lied. I didn't see them at all. I mean I was going to, but they weren't home. My sister, Denise was. And she was so surprised and happy. Know why?

Because my parents told him I was dead."

Augustus stared at her in horror which only made her talk faster to get the whole awful explanation over with.

"They said that on that day they drove me to the hospital. They collided with a car and it burst into flames. They couldn't have my funeral because they didn't know which ashes were mine.

They went through so much trouble pretending to grieve and needing their privacy and lied to my sister about it.

How could I face them after hearing that!

My own parents would want me dead then have to admit to having a teen mom.

My own parents who were suppose to love me unconditionally, left me! That's why I can't tell the Team. I mean if my own parents who cared for me for 13 years want me dead then how can people I know for less than 7 months ever understand." Raquel slammed her laptop shut and stomped up to her room where she fell onto her bed, crying.

It had felt good to let it out in the open. The whole thing with parents had bothered her.

She agonized over it for days afterward as. And for a short period, she acted extra nice to Augustus, in case he ever decided it was stupid to keep taking care of her. Until she realized he would never do that. Sure, he could be critical of her choices but he wasn't heartless.

They developed a respect for one another. He had became her grandfather figure. Plus she was pretty sure if he hadn't ran for the hills after she gave birth to Amisted, he wasn't going to leave any time soon.

Agustus entered her room a few minutes later, cautiously knocking on the door before he sat at the edge of her bed.

"Raquel, I'm sorry about your parents." He whispered softly.

"S'okay. I've gotten over it." Raquel mumbled to her pillow.

"I promise I won't badger you to talk to the Team about Amistad." He told her.

"Thank you" Raquel sighed, turning over to face him. He looked so grim and forbidding in the moonlight. It was so unlike him to her. She was used to seeing the soft smile that she had seen wear when he played with her son. To her, he was far too compassionate and mellow to be intimidating.

He let out a deep exhale, his large hand ruffling her cropped hair affectionately. "You must know, not everyone is going to leave you for your mistakes. You are a very smart lady, and you have been a better mother to Amistad starting at 14 than many have been starting at 30. I think we've both learned a lot life lessons from taking care of him. He brings a certain liveliness to the house, and I'm never been prouder to be called Uncle Auggy."

Raquel gave a thin smile, "And what about my parents?”

"I can't condone what they did, Raquel. But I promise I will not do that to you. I'll even fight Batman myself if he or the Team thinks less of you for this. You are more than your mistakes. It’s what you have done to fix them and improve yourself that makes you a good person. You haven't lost your drive, your integrity or your spirit, and you are willing to make sacrifices for your child. If the Team can't see that. You should feel that they are less than you instead of the other way around." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------—————The next afternoon at training, Raquel kept glancing nervously at the door.

After her talk with Augustus yesterday and a long restless night, no thanks to Amistad’s latest nightmares about It. She and come to the decision that she would finally tell the team. She agreed with Augustus that she should stop pinning shame onto herself and she should judge the Team for their reaction.

Also she knew what harm secrets had done to the Team, and it was unfair that she knew so much of their struggles and they didn't know hers.

Besides she remembered his other points, it would make life a whole lot easier for her if the other members took turns to take care of him. It wasn’t like everyone was going to react like her parents.

Worse case scenario would be that she got kicked out of the Team. Augustus leaves the League. Then they both would be banned from ever super-heroing again.

Okay that was probably an exaggeration.

But then again, Batman could do anything. Especially if he got angry that she lied to him.

With those doubts swirling in her head, Raquel didn't feel like a good idea any more, and was trying to think of a way to contact Augustus before he entered the Cave.

I should leave. I'll stop them before they even enter. This is stupid. I'm right. What kind of person WOULDN'T judge a teen mom. They're all gonna think I'm a slut! Why would that want to work with a slutty superhero? I'm going to get kicked out for sure.

She glanced at the zeta-beams, wondering if she could make her escape before anyone would notice.

Just then the computer announced, "Entering Icon A-14. Entering Unknown Person"

Raquel let out a silent moan. Here comes the judgement day.

The whole Team, and Back Canary looked questioningly at the two entering.

"Awww Rocket, is this your baby brother?" Zatanna asked.

Icon pried a nervous Amisted clinging from his leg, handing him to her told and and went to talk to Black Canary about the situation.

Raquel bit back an instinctive aww as Amistad tried hiding his face into her shoulder. He was just so adorable!

"He's so cute!" Miss Martian squealed.

"I guess he's cute" Superboy grunted.

Raquel took a deep, shuddery breath "Uh well...That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I haven't been entirely honest with you about my home life and the exact way we are related. You see, Amistad isn’t my brother.

They stared at her questioningly.

"He's my son," They stared at her in silence with confused looks on Miss Martian and Superboy's faces. The others gave embarrassed glances at her.

"I don't get it. Aren't you only 16?" Miss Martian asked innocently, Raquel nodded reluctantly.

More staring. This was as awkward as she feared. They were never going to treat her the same way again. Forget getting kicked out, she might have to quit. She wouldn't be able to deal with this kind of silence and pitying stares aimed her.

Since it seemed like her announcement had stunned them into muteness she decided to make an exit. "So, yeah. That’s my big..secret. I should be going."

She turned to leave when Wally zoomed in front of her. "Can I hold him?"

Raquel was so surprised that she almost dropped Amistad. Hold him? No one ever held him, but her and Icon.

Yet she saw the sincerity in Wally's eyes, and the encouraging smile, nodding at her to say yes. No one had ever looked at her that way after they realized her teen mom status. No one ever looked so eager to hold her son.

"Yeah, um here you go.” She placed Amistad in his arms, and corrected the way to hold him.

"Hey Amistad, it's your Uncle Wall-man. We are gonna have a blast when you get older" Wally said holding out a finger for Amistad to grab.

"Wall-e?" Amistad asked, wonder and amazement streaking across his face, making him look even more adorable in Raquel’s eyes.

"No, no not the robot. I'm the greatest speedster of all time. Superhero of this Earth. I save the day with charm, and wit and the amazing power of science!" Wally gestured exaggeratedly.

Raquel smiled at him. She never been so grateful for the hungry speedster in her life.

"Thank you" she mouthed to him, and he mouthed back "No problem," as he continued detailing his amazing exploits to the boy who was clearly going to idolize him when he got older.

Slowly the others gathered around them.

"Is he gonna be visiting more often? I have the perfect bat light he'll love." Robin said.

"We can be like his honorary aunts and uncles," Zatanna chimed in, cooing at him. "That would be great, that would be really great.” Raquel smiled, feeling like she was starting to truly become apart of the Team’s ragtag family at last.

#rocket #raquel ervin #amistad ervin #icon #augustus freedman #young justice #young justice outsiders #the team #my fanfic #my fanfiction #robin #superboy #kid flash #black canary #zatanna #aqualad #artemis #this is my son

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courtorderedcake · 6 years

Text

RIPTIDE 2/13

An Enchanted Forest AU where the dark one was never released into the world in a vessel, thus causing a massive shift in timelines. The ogre wars have ravaged kingdoms, untold destruction spanning continents, rulers displaced. Even as the wars sputter to ash, the safest place to be is at sea, and that’s not very safe at all - as Emma and Killian find out, fates intertwined against all odds.

Rated: E/X - heavy content : warnings of assault, rape, noncon, just everything, I feel like the rating says enough. It’s something.

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS TRIGGERING CONTENT. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

Read on Ao3 HERE .

Chapter II : Mist

There are things of which I may not speak; There are dreams that cannot die; There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak, And bring a pallor into the cheek, And a mist before the eye. -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

When Zelena summoned her to her chambers, Emma was sure she’d been discovered. It had been months since Walsh had forced her into illicit nights of his mouth on hers, and his hands groping ever farther into territory she wished lay unexplored. She knew the consequences if Zelena found out, but Granny’s life lay in her hands. She was the closest thing to a mother she’d ever known.

“Emma. I’ve been watching you, you know.” Zelena sat in the small space of her quarters in a plush emerald chair, upholstered in shimmering velvet and lined in golden embroidery. The cabin was narrow with a small window, filled with the chair, candles that were lit haphazardly, a canopied bed that was built into what might have previously been a small closet, a bookshelf, a cedar chest, and a small table covered in bottles. The door closed behind her, and Emma gulped.

“Yes.”

“I’ve noticed what you think you’ve been hiding from everyone.” Zelena smiled deviously, steepling her fingers. The hair on the nape of Emma’s hair stood on end. “Did you really think you could keep it a secret?”

Emma stared into the crimson haired woman’s eyes. “I don’t know-”

”You should embrace it, like I have. It’s a gift, no matter what weak minded fools say.” Zelena made a dismissive motion towards the door, her mouth curling into a sneer. “Magic is nothing to hide.”

”Magic?” Emma let out a breath of relief, her face contorting in confusion. “What are you talking about, magic?”

It was Zelena’s turn to be confused. She blinked several times, her face falling into a confused and astonished expression. “Emma, my pet, your magic. It radiates off you. Honestly- how could you not notice?”

Emma’s heart began to race. “I haven’t ever… I mean, I don’t have-”

”You healed Snow when she fell from the rigging months back. A fall like that should have broken her back.”

“That was luck, she slowed herself by catching some rope.” Zelena shook her head.

“You’ve conjured sunlight during gray days, and when you sing, dolphins and mermaids come near.”

“Mermaids are always seeking pirates to lure to the grave. And dolphins, well…” She swallowed hard. “They think we’ll throw out fish.” The candles in the room seemed to dim.

“Even right now, you’re messing with the candle light. You could be a more powerful sorceress than me even, with the right training.” Zelena’s eyes seemed to grow greener, glittering like a cat who caught the canary.

“No, I believe you are mistaken. Those are all just coincidences. I don’t even know the first thing abou-”

Zelena shot a bolt of green fire at her, and she flinched, smelling the sulfuric flame that she was sure she’d feel licking her with its acid tongue of pain soon. Her hands warmed, but nothing bit her with a burning sting. She peeked one eye open. The flame rested before her, held by a white light flooding from her palms, flickering in the cabin. All the candles were out, the green light coming from Zelena casting an unearthly shadow over everything, tinging the space emerald. Zelena’s face was a sly smile.

“When would you like to begin your lessons, my darling pet?”

Between magic lessons, her kitchen duties, and Walsh’s continued violations, Emma was growing exhausted. It didn’t go unnoticed by anyone, with the crew more sympathetic than her teacher, who in turn was much more sympathetic than the rank man in back of her.

Walsh pawed her naked breast, grunting with the other hand in his pants, rutting against her ass. She was used to his usual crassness, but he’d been pushing for more of late, seeking to take her as a woman and man joined. Emma had known for years she most likely would never be a woman who was able to save herself for marriage, but she had hoped she’d at least find someone who made her feel something other than revulsion.

A few women on the ship sought female company after unpleasant experiences like her own. Fewer still sought out the occasional male companion or consort, which generally were more common in the uncharted shores or more exotic and inhibited locales. Zelena did not like such places because they didn’t have the finer luxuries she was accustomed to.

And oh was Zelena ever accustomed to fineries, Emma was finding. Zelena has started her off with mapping and studying where various herbs could be found, along with other sundries, talismans, magickal items, and rare stones or gems. Then she’d had her chart merchant courses to create a route that would keep her coffers and apothecary cabinet stocked, and set Emma up with a book making her various unguents and potions for beauty.

Emma had proved to be moderately skilled, Zelena overjoyed and tasking her with studying more arcane magic. The magic was mostly enchanting swords, creating poisons to wipe on blades, bewitching objects, or summoning the elements to do your bidding. Emma found it easy, and spellcraft or elemental magic easier yet. After weeks of practice, she could create a flaming sword, heal small wounds, or conjure a bright burning light in one hand while a rapier was held in the other.

When Emma had found an aging Bradshaw through word of mouth, dragging his sorry hide on board per Zelena’s request for a man to test poisons on, Emma felt a delight that was almost sisterly. Killing Bradshaw with a painful combination of poisons while spittle ran into his graying beard was not quite just desserts. Emma would have given anything to have poisoned the slaver at his prime, when he had whittled away her skin for a laugh. Zelena was beyond impressed at Emma’s aptitude for cruelty and creating poison blends that caused torment. The next morning, Zelena demoted Walsh with a smirk, promoting Emma to First Mate instead. Emma would swear the woman gave her a motherly look, the unease of her company fading.

Eventually Zelena demoted Walsh, no one particularly shocked other than him, his last line of superiority disappearing. To complicate matters, Zelena had praised Emma, stating she was the most skilled in battle and hinted at making her his replacement. Meri had at first been icy, but even she couldn't stay mad for long when watching Walsh sulk was such a delight. Zelena made it very clear what his purpose was on her ship, her personal dandy to keep her satisfied until someone else could fulfill her needs. A toy, a wind up monkey, clattering around for her entertainment only. His anger was palpable on deck every time she called for him. Emma would feel bad if it wasn’t so ironic. Walsh, caught in the same net he cast for her.

Zelena began to trust Emma with more self study but never anything that could truly threaten her own skill. She was a narcissist, but a realist first and foremost. A threat was a threat, and as someone who coveted her possessions, Zelena kept them close to her chest. Or so she thought.

The first thing to escape her, whether in obliviousness or arrogance, was Walsh seeking Emma’s companionship every morning, and Zelena’s bed chambers every night that she summoned him. She was an insanely envious woman, and Walsh had caused a few women to meet her fury by trying to sneak a poke in at brothels under her nose. Emma suspected Zelena didn’t think anyone on the Oz would dare. Truly, Emma wished she could stop the entire disgusting ritual, but Walsh had been prepared.

“This is going to continue as long as it suits my needs,” he’d said as he forced himself into her mouth. “And if you say anything, to anyone, I will make sure that everyone on this ship thinks you initiated it, as well as killing your grandma myself.”

She hated the taste of him, but she hated knowing how easy it would be for him to convince Zelena that she was the instigator. He’d fallen out of favor with Zelena, and she was quick now to call him on his incompetence while using him for her other needs. Instead, after a bloody battle that left Emma breathless from the use of both her magic and blade, Zelena had praised her in front of the crew while chastising Walsh’s failure to do much more than cower.

As it stood, Zelena had just let Emma gain her trust. That trust factored into the second thing Zelena failed to notice - something even Emma barely noticed herself, at first.

Emma realized it slowly, practicing her craft at night and feeling her magic pulse all through the ship like tendrils or veins. She could feel the ocean and its currents, deep into dark waters, the night air and starlight - elements being broken down further and further until everything was light or dark or electric or an unexplainable force. She could feel that force in everything, moving in and out like the breath of some great invisible beast.

And Emma could reach a finger to touch it, if she just pushed, pushed -

A great pair of yellow eyes stared at her, unblinking, the pupil widening and shrinking as it came to focus on her being. At first they stared at each other, and each felt the other. A light and a darkness, one small and one large, one so very young, one ancient but not yet wise. She felt its curiosity as well as her own before she lost hold of the thread, falling back into her body.

She’d woken up sweating to a ruckus on deck. Throwing on her clothes, she joined a small handful of the crew, including Zelena, who were watching the sun come up and join the moon in the sky at an unnatural pace, blinding them and bleaching the night sky in its radiance before dipping back below the horizon again.

“An omen,” Zelena had said, quietly.

“Of what? When has the sun ever chased a still moon, and then raced forward before stopping? What kind of omen is that?” Emma asked, shivering slightly in the now chill air of the returned night.

“A great power has manifested itself. That’s an ancient spell that even I can’t do. It’s in a relic of mine somewhere. Starsphere manipulation, or something.” She yawned, and stretched. “I’m going back to bed. Since all of you are up, you can begin your day early.”

Emma sighed, and returned to the bunks to get dressed for the day. She blinked when she saw the book she’d been reading the night before by candlelight, realizing the cover was well worn and not the book that she thought she’d been studying. Looking at the text of the cover, she couldn’t help the chill that ran up her spine, excitement thumping in her heart like cannon fire.

“SpellKrafte of the Starspheres”.

Their latest haul had been a success, a ship taken down and heavy pockets for every one of the crew. Emma had run several men through, including the captain who had tried to shoot her with a shoddy pistol, unable to get off the shot before her sword cut through him like a ribbon. She’d smiled into his face, letting him know that her angel looks held back a demon’s blood lust. In the hold, they’d found wine, cheese, fresh fruits, vegetables, spices, and tea; and Zelena was happy to announce the coffers were full again with the gold and jewelry they looted. There were no survivors this time, simply blood, bodies and fire offered to the sea when they had finished stripping the ship. David, Snow, and Emma watched it sink into the black water, a gift happily given for another day of plunder.

When the ship had sank into the sea, Zelena gave orders quickly before going to her ledgers, and Emma took up for her in her absence. She knew everyone but Walsh was pleased that she was now First Mate, her ease and fair hands left little need for the punishments once doled out by Zelena. David maintained the weapons easily, teaching new crew members when Emma or Snow could not, and Meri, along with Fa, had made navigation a breeze. The new worlds were not so new with their residents among them.

Walsh had taken to punishing Emma for his demotion with his body, pulling her aside in the mornings when she woke to help Granny. His needs had gotten lewder and much rougher, and she found herself escaping into thoughts of her duties as he spent himself. It never lasted long, for which she was grateful; he had given up seeking anything but his own pleasure. She’d open her mouth, let him pull down her trousers or hike up her skirts, and pretended she wasn’t thinking of unfurling sails or making sure the gunpowder casks were dry.

If he thought she was bored, he’d give her a heavy handed smack which caused an annoying bruise she’d have to hide, so she tried to show slight interest in his grunts. He’d spill himself down her throat, on the floor of the store room, or more frustratingly in her skirts, hair, or on her breasts. She hated the sticky feeling of him on her skin as it were, but it was better this than letting him fill her - that was the worst. The apothecaries in a few port towns carried several potent herbs that when mixed just right, created a tincture that prevented becoming with child. Although she used it religiously, the risk of carrying some bastard scared her.

Emma never wanted children, and the idea of bringing a child into this world that had hurt her so badly made her skin crawl. Her hands were covered in the blood of men, death an old friend she helped to feed. A child did not belong in this world. She had, at many times, hidden herself for just a few moments, assuring herself that nothing would happen, nothing could happen, the fear too much to bear in an open space. Walsh would occasionally use that fear, talking about forcing her to marry and stay on shore, and on those days, her anger was palpable while frustration at her situation boiled over.

One of the ways she let off her frustration at the arrangement with Walsh was seeking out companions in port towns, finding dandies, the rare male escort, or a woman of the night. Nothing was truly satisfying, and she hated watching someone try and pretend they were enjoying something they weren’t. Even when slightly enjoyable, there was never any reason to go back or any connection.

They made port that night with coin to spend, and Emma made her way into one of the disreputable taverns where she knew trouble would not find her. Sinking into a chair, she drank heartily and let the conversations flow over her, the different crews shouting and jostling each other, many different songs from different lands weaving together into a comforting lull. Walsh had been rougher this morning; drinking helped her forget a hard day’s work on top of the bruises on her hips.

As some men were lured away by women to drop trousers and coin, one of the older patrons began playing away on an accordion to a familiar sea shanty, the liveliness thrumming in the crowd as more voices joined in. One of the bartenders pulled out a fiddle, and the place came alive with drunken singing and dancing. For a moment, Emma let herself smile into her tankard as she drank the spiced ale, enjoying the way her head spun.

When two uniformed officers crossed her line of vision, the smile disappeared. She could feel the tension settle for a moment, before the taller of the two spoke up.

“A round on me, and my little brother. Tomorrow we leave, and tonight you have the finest ale.” His shout was met with a hearty cry of appreciation from the sailors inside, and the music started up again, louder than before. The shorter brother, still wearing his hat, approached the bar near where she sat. She could hear the coins clink behind her.

A tankard appeared to her left, placed down by the younger brother. Following the arm, she looked up into blue eyes, lit with amusement. “Here you go lass.” She blinked at him, watching trays of ale go around to the other tables.

“A toast!” said the taller brother of the two, shouting again. “To fair seas, and fair weather, as far as the horizon goes!” Glasses clinked, and Emma raised hers halfheartedly. Throwing back the remnants of her first ale, she started on the second. The younger brother still hadn’t moved and was too close for her liking.

“Another toast.” Emma bristled. “To better lives, and futures.” he said, and she tried to make it clear she wasn’t interested in company.

Emma snorted. “Sure, mate.”

“Have a little hope darling.” A chair scraped and he was sitting beside her. “You never know what the future holds.”

She stared at him, seeing the glint of hope in his eyes, and felt pity rise in her stomach. He couldn’t be much older than her, but she knew so much better of waiting for brighter futures. She wanted to scream at him, tell him she had seen what his king sent men to their deaths for; that in ports all over the world, there were men that were once like him. Men that were now broken husks, full of loss.

Instead, she whispered curses softly under her breath.

“What was that lass?”

She smiled sadly. “I said, I wish you good luck, Lieutenant.” she lifted her tankard.

He smiled brightly, tapping her tankard with his. Quickly, Emma drank the rest of her ale before pulling out her chair and leaving through the open door. The night air felt good, crisp and cleansing on her face, and the moon was high in the sky, leaving plenty of light to guide her down the street. She hadn’t realized how much she had drank, her cheeks felt warmed. At this point, holding her liquor and keeping her footing were never problems unless something very strong was involved, even if she felt a little dizzy.

“Hey, hey wait-” he called out to her, and Emma turned around to appraise him. He swayed slightly, and she sighed. Not used to holding his drink yet either. Burying any emotion, she composed herself before he approached. The last thing she wanted tonight was this poor boy trying to keelhaul her; he’d lose a hand and she’d get a lashing from Captain Zelena.

“Yes?” she asked, letting the bite of irritability shine through.

“I know this isn’t good form, but I-” He stepped towards her and she could see under starlight that he’d lost his hat, his jet black hair falling out of his pulled back style. “I wanted to ask you if you’d give me a kiss for good luck.”

Emma sighed. Sailor superstition was rife, but this was ridiculous.

“You don’t want a kiss from me, mate. I’m cursed. You’ve better luck finding a toad to press your lips against.” She turned away again, and he gripped her wrist.

“I may have better luck with the toad, but I’ve asked you.” He looked down at her through dark lashes and she felt flush color her cheeks and ears. “You're beautiful, the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.” He flushed, nervously scratching behind his ear. “I may have had too much to drink, and I’m usually not this forward, but I mean it. You’re stunning.” His words were sincere, ringing completely genuine. Something inside her stomach flipped, causing the bite in the night air to lose its teeth completely.

“Fine, Lieutenant.” She pressed her lips against his, and he pressed back. She’d kissed other sailors, men with chapped lips and stubble, but this was velvet soft, while his tongue asked for entry without demand. He turned his head to deepen it and she obliged, her skin licked with heat. She should have ended this instantly, but he tasted like honey, mint, ale, salt of the sea, and a rich headiness that made her dizzy. He groaned into her, and she bit his lip to illicit another. He pushed her back against a building or a wall, she couldn’t tell; she was breathless and a knee was between her legs.

Hadn’t he mentioned good form? Emma didn't care.

He seemed unsure as she rocked her aching core against his leg. Nothing ever felt like this with Walsh or any other man for that matter- there was never this hunger, the fire burning and wrapping her in a tingling blanket of sensation. She wanted more, eyes widening as she let out a moan into his ear, his fingers wrapping around her waist, his other hand stroking the neckline of her corset.

She reached a hand to his buckle, undoing the ridiculously shiny thing, and pushed down the front of his pants. In the lower streets here, it was common to see lovers, paid or otherwise, enjoying each other’s bodies.

“Here? In the street? I can’t; I don’t do this. We can’t,” he hissed, his voice hoarse. She nodded, tugging on his length, unsure of what had come over her. “We - we shouldn’t.” She licked her palm and continued, and he rutted into her hand. “We should go back and get a room,” he moaned the last word, as she twisted up and down his cock. “Oh, Gods, damn it it all!” His hands pulled down her corset, and he sucked hard on a nipple, plucking at the other. Emma felt like she was being lit, like a gun filled with powder ready to fire.

Was this what the whores in the brothel felt when they wailed into the night? What other sprawled bodies in other shadowed alleys moaned about while people looked away? Hot breath in the crook of their neck, a warm tongue laving their collar bone, a coil that tightened when his fingers found her wet and aching? Oh, his fingers!

He curled them in her, whispering how wonderful she’d feel around him, how she probably tasted like heaven. He found a sensitive spot, and she ground down on his hand. His fingers left her and she whimpered, wishing he would keep that sweet pressure on her. He instead stroked his shaft with his wet fingers and slowly, reverently, sheathed himself.

Her body trembled, and they held each other forehead to forehead for a small time. This wasn’t just sex. This was making love, or rather with the love absent, fucking for pleasure. Walsh was sex, and nothing more; this dark haired lieutenant was a push to lunacy; his body pressed into hers so tightly with the brick biting her back, his first movements making them both moan lowly.

His eyes were blown out, as she pushed his hair out of his eyes, feeling the beginning of something low in her belly rising like the breath you search for as you drown. They found a rhythm, rocking with each other sloppily. She let out a laugh that he mirrored with a grin when they fumbled for a moment and she almost slipped. He dug into her deeper, making her toes curl, her noises becoming needy pants on his shoulder as she dug her nails in his back.

“There! Fuck, yes, there!” she moaned. The new angle had him gripping her hips, sinking her body on his with groans of pleasure. The drag of him inside, hitting spots in her that had been so neglected, had that coil in her belly tight once again. Everything was taut, tense and waiting, waiting to feel something she’d been chasing for so long. She’d never gotten this close before. She felt like one of the moths that circled lanterns at night so close to heat.

”That’s it lass, come for me,” he groaned, moving faster, and the pleasure she felt had her writhing. It was euphoric, and then it was more; starlight ran in her veins, pumping through her heart to shoot back to her fingers and toes. She felt her body tighten and spasm as she cried out into his neck. He whispered into her ear how beautiful she was, sweet things that had her eyes feeling glassy, kissing her and keeping her on a sword’s edge that caused her thighs to quiver. It continued as he took, burying himself as deep as he could into her body, letting out a shuddering moan as he pulsed.

They panted into each other’s shoulders, tightly gripping each other. She snuggled into his embrace, her skirts shifting, and his cock softening. He kissed her temple as she adjusted herself with a shy smile. In this moment, drunk and soft, body sated and held tight, she let herself be vulnerable. Hazy thoughts of blue eyes, dark hair, reddened lips, and the golden buttons of his uniform that pressed into her skin broke down long standing walls. If she believed in fate, this moment would be destiny.

“See. You never know what the future holds,” he whispered into her ear, tucking back a blonde strand of hair. He let her down carefully, pulling himself from her and tucking himself back into his trousers. He helped her pull up her corset to her surprise, and pressed soft kisses to her neck.

“You shouldn’t go.” It crept out of her lips before she could stop it. He blinked slowly like waking from a dream.

“Shouldn’t go? Where?”

Her voice was a harsh whisper. If she could save one person from the hell of dying for the King’s greed, she’d try. Especially this man, so young and full of life, who believed in good form and telling her she was beautiful.

“You shouldn’t go to whatever hellscape the king is sending you to. He only sends men to their death. It’s not my place, but please -” His hand covered her mouth, and the moment was broken. A cloud covered the moon, darkness falling over them.

“What you say is treason,” he hissed, slowly releasing her and moving back a step. She shook herself, walls coming back up with no effort, meeting his eyes. “You shouldn’t say such things.”

“Do not trust your king. You’ll die if you listen to his lies. ” She watched his face harden with resolve.

“You know nothing about me, our king, or our mission.” His eyes darkened like the sky above. “We seek to end the last encampments of ogres. We’ll be saving people and children that these foul creatures kill. We will be heroes and free men!”

Emma was about to speak, to tell him about real freedom, but a voice broke the silence.

“Brother!” Someone was shouting, and he pulled away to look. “There is ale still to be drank and the night is young!” Her heart hammered in her chest, and she steadied herself. The spell was shattered, and not every man could be saved. Even this one that quickened the beat of her heart insistently. Pulling her cloak up over her head, she moved from him, pushing him aside. To her surprise, he moved to catch her arm, his footfalls behind her. They broke into a run through the town’s smoky corridors.

“Wait!” he called after her, but she knew her way through the alleys and back streets, twisting until she was back in front of The Emerald Envy of Oz. She made her way to the gangplank.

David stared at her coldly. He earned his nickname, Charming, by his expressionless face in battle and his quiet demeanor that hid a sharp tongue. She nodded at him in greeting, straightening her skirted breeches and corset under her cloak. David cocked an eyebrow, and she blushed red in only the way a sibling can embarrass you and make you angry at the same time.

“It’s not what it looks like.” She stomped up the gangplank.

David grunted. “It never is.”

“Some Navy fool shipping off tomorrow for his first bloodbath wanted a kiss.” She threw herself down on a crate, folding her arms.

Another grunt, and a snorted laugh. “So he won’t be making it to see the waters, dear sister?”

She grinned salaciously. “He’ll live, for tonight, at least. And he’s in much better spirits. I gave him a bit more than a kiss to comfort him when he dies for his King.” She winked, and watched her brother’s body stiffen, ears beginning to flush.

His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. “Things I didn’t and never want to know. Disgusting. Hopefully he dies, so I don’t have to slit his throat instead.”

Looking out over the waves, she sighed suddenly defeated. “He will. If he survives, he’ll wish he was dead.”

Her brother came to sit next to her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. They sat together listening to the waves until the stars began to fade, letting words that were unnecessary between them go unspoken.

The smell of gunpowder was acrid in her nostrils as Emma boarded the small merchant ship, landing with a thud. She pulled out her rapier and lit a fireball in her other hand that glowed with an unearthly shimmer of white light. The man before her looked horrified, and his knees shook as he fumbled to pull his own sword. He never got the chance, her rapier making quick work and spattering blood as she moved through the crew with little difficulty.

A sword nicked her shoulder, held by a portly man who sneered at her. “Witch! You pirate witch, I’ll see you hanged like the filth you are!”

Emma felt her shoulder throb, her magic pulsing in time with the pain. It flickered, and she tried to focus on parrying the saber this man kept slamming down towards her. She gritted her teeth, trying to hit this man with a blast that would knock him from her and give her some distance. Her magic wouldn’t comply, though. She tried healing her shoulder and ended up searing the wound.

“Emma! Get it together!” Zelena shouted, her own sword clanging as she took on a fight of her own.

The portly man slammed down over and over on her rapier, his saber blade much heavier, and Emma saw the strike coming in slow motion. She put both hands up, reaching deep and let go, her magic uncontrolled and wild. The man was blasted back, hitting a broken piece of wood with a wet smack. To her horror, her uncontrolled blast had also thrown a few of her crewmates.

She ran to help them as part of the merchant crew launched a boat with as much as they could carry. Zelena screamed orders, but with no dinghy to give chase immediately and both ships locked together, it was fruitless. When the rest of the merchant crew was dead, Zelena grabbed Emma by the hair and dragged her below deck.

“What was that? Control your magic! You could have killed us, and our haul would be cut because of your pure incompetence!” Zelena was livid, eyes shining. “You will be training with me at night as well as every afternoon, until you can wield your magic with pinpoint accuracy through any type of pain or distraction.”

Emma could only gulp and nod, Zelena’s rage practically turning her green.

The members of the merchant crew that escaped turned out to be a blessing in disguise, however.

Word spread of a female run ship sailing the sea with no quarter. One that had a witch with magic white as swan wings, an archer that could shoot a single snowflake, a quiet swordsman who didn’t mince his charming words, and a crazed captain that would spill anyone’s blood to get her pretty things.

News spread quickly, like wildfire through dry wood or a storm over rough seas.

It wasn’t a fortnight gone when they noticed the dot on the horizon, a fast moving ship in full regalia seeking nothing other than to end the threat posed. A navy frigate. Meri had spotted it while whittling a wooden bear in the crow’s nest whistling down to Fa. She and Fa seemed to share a code made of looks and small signals, practically reading each other’s minds. Emma wondered often if they had taken each other as sapphics, or common wives, but never cared to ask.

Emma still helped Granny in the morning, met with Walsh to her growing disdain and frustration, trained with Zelena, tended to her duties, kept the books and logged their goods, trained again with Zelena, did final nightly inspection, and then collapsed in bed for a few hours of sleep. The practice had Emma lit like a candle at both ends, unable to stop the flow of magic through her body. Her body felt worn, and magic crackled in her fingertips every morning as she chopped vegetables and fruits or kneaded dough.

Granny had taken to needing more help, to the point that David had started helping her clean up at night, occasionally with Snow keeping him company. Watching her brother bonding with someone else was a highlight for Emma. She loved to hear his low laughter as Snow talked to him, her legs swinging from her seat on the counter while she ate an apple.

Granny knew that she was struggling as well, and begged Emma to push Zelena to pick up her granddaughter who could help and fight as well - but Zelena wasn’t receptive to anything but fighting off the coming assault.

Several mornings to Emma’s delight, either her magic or the smell of onions on her skin had warded Walsh from some of his fouler acts. He’d also been less rough, and she held out hope that he was finally growing bored of her and her disinterest. As long as he had Zelena to stick his cock in and stay in her favor, he still got his special privileges. Emma did dread him ever saying anything about these forced trysts, and knew that if they did end, she could be in danger of blackmail or worse.

Zelena was unaware of anything but the coming battle. The fear consumed her, and she studied the Navy ship’s pattern as well as books on its form. It would have at least sixty guns, a large crew full of experienced forces, and have a sturdy build for defensive maneuvers. She’d laid out what spells she’d need, and Emma and her worked non-stop to make a working defense.

The first step was an invisibility powder and a protective charm. Then, they’d enchant the cannons for accuracy and to fire on their own. Finally, they needed to enchant weapons so they could hold an enchanted flame or freezing shock. Zelena didn’t want this fight; normally offensive, there was nothing to gain from battle, which left her on the defense. She wanted to scare these Navy men. Let them see the witches and the women with the flaming weapons. Let them see the men who served, and the grace they wielded a sword that chilled an enemy to the bone. Emma mixed satchels of herbs, gunpowder, and magical poultices which created smoke that would bring on sleep or paralyzation.

When the sun rose in reds and purples, Meri whistled to Fa, a loud and high pitched sound that twisted at the end. Fa ran to Zelena, waking her.

“Captain, there’s a second ship. It was following closely behind the first.” Fa gasped, hands on her knees.

Zelena’s reply was graceful and eloquent.

“Shit.”

They held their breath as the Navy ships approached, obviously confused. A ship disappearing was unheard of unless sailing in shipwrecked waters, and a ship as large as The Emerald Envy of Oz didn’t just lift off the face of the sea. That was, of course, part of Zelena’s plan. The ships stopped at a small, anchored dinghy, a dummy sitting prone in its curved hull. Zelena nodded to her crew, and they watched with weapons ready as the navy sent a small boat to survey the anchored decoy.

Emma waited for Zelena’s signal, biting her lip.

A man stepped into the dinghy, hauling the dummy up, and he waved a handkerchief. Zelena saluted Emma, and Emma took a deep breath. She felt every muscle in her body tense, and the crackle of her magic rose up through her hair, wind swirling around her.

The dummy exploded, blowing the man to smithereens, and spurting strange purple goo that covered both navy ships. It stretched like tentacles, the consistency of thick molasses. Terror swept through the crews, some men stuck in the concoction, others trying desperately to get them free while getting stuck themselves. Emma laughed with wry amusement when a high ranking official jumped off the side of the ship to escape a blob. Other men tried to hit the substance with anything they had around, finding it able to hold even the heaviest barrels in its viscous grip.

Emma’s hands filled with light again, and Zelena watched with ecstatic glee as she raised them while performing the enchantment, gold spreading to their cannons. It was done. Leaning back against the mast, Emma took deep breaths as sweat beaded her brow. Zelena in turn cast a quick charm on their weaponry, lighting them with her signature green flame. Emma pulled out her own rapier, letting it light green, and joined the line of her crew.

As their ship moved closer to the goo-covered frigate and its companion, Emma smiled at the names scrawled on their hulls, now obscured. The Jewel of the Realm, now the Ew th Ream in its jellied form, on one side and the larger ‘Feared Avenger’, its own letters also covered by goo, making it the Red Ven. Without a nullifying charm, they’d be stuck for days like this.

When they were close enough to the larger ship, Zelena gave Emma one last signal. With a wave of her hand, their cannons began their enchanted firing and the invisibility charm fell. Shouts and screams of pure horror filled the air, the Navy unprepared for this level of an ambush. Her fellow crew mates answered with a roar of war cries, enchanted blades shining in the sun, as they flew to board each of the ships. Emma landed on the Jewel of the Realm with a roll, expertly avoiding the goo, and slashing the first man that ran at her with ease. Parrying attack after attack and letting her sword start fires on the deck as well as on men’s uniforms, she showed her teeth in a wide leer. Men ran terrified, the captain shouting desperately.

Shoving her rapier through another man, she set her eyes on who she assumed was the captain of The Jewel and smiled a predatory grin. The captain was tall, had sandy, coppery blonde curls, and was broad with a muscular build. She had the vague sense she’d seen him somewhere before, but that didn’t matter in this moment. She headed towards him when an attack caught her off guard. She parried back, and her attacker spun, going high. Blocking with her rapier, she aimed a hard kick in his gut, and he fell to his knees. She went to cut his throat, tipping his chin up at her with the point of her blade, when he glared up at her. Neither of them could hide their shock.

“You!?” he said, blue eyes wide and angry. His mouth pulled back into a sneer. The lieutenant she had shared her body with, had warned of death, a self fulfilling prophecy.

“Me,” she said sadly, and let the point of her rapier press into his neck. A small dribble of blood ran down to pool in his collarbone, blooming red in his shirt. Every muscle in her body felt frozen, her mind screamed at her to end his life.

He closed his eyes, and she took a step back, arm raised and unsteady. Emma lowered her wrist, unable to fight a feeling of wrongness.

The captain barrelled in to her with a roar, and she was quickly under him. He had her shoulder pinned and blue eyes that were so like the dark haired man met hers. The brother. He groaned and paled as he looked at her face, his weight crushing her. She looked down and saw her rapier buried deep in his thigh, blood gushing in spurts from a wound that meant certain death.

“Liam!” The dark haired man pulled the giant off of her, rolling him on his back as the sandy haired man turned white. She watched as they held hands, the dark haired man cradling his brother’s head. “Stay with me, stay with me brother. Please, stay with me.”

“Killian, I…” His head lolled, and Emma could see the large man go into shock. His blood coated her hands. For the first time in many years, it made her feel sick.

Emma moved to his side, and ignored the man called Killian’s rage filled protests at her approach. She was vaguely aware that not only was this wrong, it was sheer lunacy on her part. Her body moved out of her volition without regard of why. She pulled her rapier from the bigger brother, Liam’s, thigh. Throwing it aside, it clattered against the deck as she held pressure to the soaked thigh below her hands. Emma felt a blade press against her neck, Killian against her back. Ignoring it, she focused on her magic, knowing she would need to pull from that golden thread to heal something this bad.

“You killed him, you killed him you bitch. I’ll cut your neck and send you straight to hell you demon -”

The spark ignited in her hands as Killian rasped in her ear. White light poured out of her hands, and she pressed on the wound harder, ignoring the bite of the steel. Liam groaned, color returning to his face, his chest heaving with slow effort. The hand at her neck fell away as the man’s wound closed into a faint scar.

She felt the sobs against her back as Liam’s eyes fluttered open. Killian scrambled back to his brother, hugging him tight, as the battle slowed around them and her crew began retreating now that the point had been made. Snow gave a bird call, and they began to return to the Oz.

Emma picked up her rapier, wiping it on her pants, and went to walk away. A hand grabbed her wrist, and she looked down to see Killian’s tear filled eyes.

“I don’t know why you did it, I don’t know how you did it -” He gulped down another sob. “Thank you. Thank you, for -”

“Fuck off, and quit the Navy. You got lucky this time.” Emma pulled away from him, and both brothers stared at her as she carefully swung back onto the Oz’s boarding planks.

David, Walsh, Fa, and Merida poured the prepared potion on the Avenger, releasing its sticky hold on the Jewel. There were minimal casualties, besides David losing part of his finger, and a nasty gash that Fa had on her cheek. Zelena had killed most of the naval crew, and those that had bailed bobbed in the water as she took up her mantle at the wheel. Emma steered the Oz away, and the Avenger followed. Commandeered for their use the sailors watched helplessly, swimming towards the Jewel to be fished out of the water. The Oz and crew now controlled a fleet.

The former captain of The Feared Avenger flopped on the Jewel’s deck, wet and raging mad. He had caught a glimpse of one attacker, a woman glowing gold as she flew through attackers without quarter. A demon from his past sent to punish him and test his worth.

Captain James Nolan’s dear little sister was a pirate, and she had magic.

#October 11th 2018 #csbb #csbb 2018 #captain swan big bang #riptide #Courtorderedcake writes #courtorderedcake #chapter II #mist #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan au #cs ff #cs au ff

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itsanerdlife · 6 years

Text

Chasing Dreams

Pairing: Rockstar! Peter Parker x Reader

Warning: Umm nothing? Hahaha.

A/N: I highly recommend if you want the songs I used in this are - *She’s Got a Boyfriend Now - Boys Like Girls *I Must Be Dreaming - The Maine *If It Means a Lot To You - A Day To Remember

When Peter and Y/N were kids, she was the cheerleader of support when the boys wanted to chase their dreams of being Rock Stars. When they make it, Peter finds Y/N in the front row, leaving him wondering if chasing his dream was really worth what he lost in the process.

This is a longer one shot. I have left it slightly open. Let me know your opinions!!

They say nothing is too far out of reach for those who work hard for what they want. Well at sixteen they started a band, a dinky garage band that started playing for keggers on the weekends, and here they were in their twenties. Standing on stage in a different city, a couple albums under their belts and a lot farther than any of their parents thought they would ever go with such a silly dream. Everything they ever wanted, well for Bucky, Steve and Sam sure.

Peter was still missing something, but she was grinning up at him from the front of the crowd as he checked his guitar and waited for Buck’s start. She wore the vintage band T-shirt; the same one she stole from his bedroom floor at seventeen and he only saw again when she wore it. Nat and Wanda stood on either side of her, chatting away like this was their normal. It was, since they were teens and the guys played their first party.

The song starts up, he knows how this goes, his fingers played as he leaned into the mic. She instantly moves to the beat, knowing the song by heart. She sings along, her colored waves bounce around tied up in a ponytail. She was a rocker child from the go, mother like daughter in all sense. The three of them, sing, move, wiggle and laugh all singing along. Swaying and singing to each other, just a bunch of fucking groupies at heart.

She was with him from the start, when everyone told them they wouldn’t make it out of their small town. She was the one who egged them on, telling them it was going to be alright, that she’d be front and center at their concert one day and she was so sure of it. The guys found themselves believing her, no matter what anyone else had to say. Funny to think that, when wanting to be a rock star is what caused them to break up, college and touring in a bus, didn’t go hand in hand together.

They begged her to give up the idea of college, to join them. She had a set of lungs on her and she wrote too many songs of theirs and featured on a few, that they drew up contracts, so she would never feel like she was left behind or left out. She got a percentage of everything they made, she refused the amount they tried to give her in the start of it, settling for a measly 10%. She didn’t want to be famous, she just wanted to be happy, but they were chasing a dream like addicts chasing a fix. She kissed him goodbye and wrote a song for it, that ended up being one of their biggest hits.

Steve softly calls out the beat for the next song, Peter’s foot tapped to it instantly. She laughs, shoulders moving instantly. He couldn’t help the shifted grin on his lips as he sang into the mic, eye locked on the girl who blew his mind at seventeen. Singing the song about her and being a Rock Star. ‘Yeah, maybe we were in high school But you never see the ending when you're young and love pretending Singing, "Everything's gonna be alright" Whoa oh Everything was gonna be alright Buried her deep inside Stars stuck in my eyes Now she's got a boyfriend And I've got a rock band Cause nothing really ever goes the way it's planned.’

She’s laughing, dancing in place to the song, as she sings along. Nat and Wanda teasing her of course, the one and only muse to Peter Parker and his music. Love like that didn’t happen twice, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to find it in the groupies looking to score a night with a rock star. He saw his dream come true, but it cost him her. Some nights he wondered if it was worth it, lonely nights, living on a bus and being someone else’s puppet. Steve chuckles as the song ends, Peter turns looking at the guys he grew up with, the ones he spent pretty much his life with.

“So, are we playing for her tonight?” Steve grins, tipping his chin out at Y/N in the crowd.

“First concert she’s been too.” Peter grins.

“Could you be more obsessed?” Buck laughs, pointing his drum stick at Peter’s chest.

“Alright, let’s check the Y/N song list.” Sam laughs, stepping back towards his mic. Steve laughs, tuning his guitar, getting ready. Peter turns, licking his lips quickly, his pick strikes the right note as he watches her eyes light up. Her head throws back with a laugh, hands over her face, while Nat and Wanda perk up with cat eat the canary grins.

‘She thinks I'm crazy Judging by the faces that she's making And I think she's pretty But pretty's just part of the things she does that amaze me And she calls me sweetheart I love it when she wakes me when it's still dark And she watches the sun But she's the only one I have my eyes on.’

She sways, grinning, singing the song he had wrote for her, at eighteen.

‘She moves in closer Whispering to me "I thought I told ya" And oh she's playing games now And I figured it out now that we're Now that we're closer Two kids, one love Who cares if we make it up Her voice is sweet sound Our clothes lay on the ground She moves in closer Whispers "I thought I told ya".’

The three of them knowing the song sing along. His hands rest on the mic for a moment, knowing what he was planning for the next song they’d play, a grin plays over his lips once again.

‘Remember the day when we started this And she made the shape of my heart with her hands We try to make some sense of it’

Y/N sings along, her hands in the shape of a heart, she grins the same memory flashing in her mind as well.

‘But she called me on the phone and said Tell me that you love me And it'll be alright Are you thinking of me? Just come with me tonight You know I need you Just like you need me Can't stop, won't stop I must be dreaming Go one and tell em that you love me’

When the song ends, the guys exchange a look. Steve starts the song, Buck joining in, Sam carrying Peter’s part as he turns around facing Y/N. Her eyes wide, and her mouth smashed into a thin line. He grins, wiggling his finger, beckoning her. She shakes her head, the guys repeat the opening again, waiting. Nat and Wanda are pushing her towards him, as she shakes her head.

“Get up here, or I’ll make Sam sing it.” He grins down at her.

“Peter!” She tries to sound angry, but her eyes couldn’t hide the pride she had in knowing her song was being played, that her part wouldn’t be the recording they had of her, this time she was going to sing it.

“Shut up and take Sam’s mic.” He grins at her, grabbing hold of his guitar once she’s on stage looking fluster and slightly like she wants to punch him. The guys repeat the opening again, this time Peter takes his part, stepping towards his mic.

Their break up song, she wrote.

‘Hey darling, I hope you're good tonight And I know you don't feel right when I'm leaving Yeah, I want it but no, I don't need it Tell me something sweet to get me by 'Cause I can't come back home 'til they're singin'

La, la la la, la la la 'Til everyone is singin'.’

He glances over as Steve and Sam play, knowing she knew the song, she shakes her head, holding to Sam’s mic. Her eyes open, locked on to him, knowing full well what the other was feeling. He waits, turning to watch as her cue comes in.

‘And hey sweetie, but I need you here tonight And I know that you don't wanna be leaving me Yeah, you want it but I can't help it I just feel complete when you're by my side But I know you can't come home 'til they're singin'

La, la la la, la la la 'Til everyone is singin' La,…’

Her teeth rack over her bottom lips as he turns back. The ending of the song, what killed him most, singing her words. Her voice was better than the recording they played of her, not that it was bad, just wasn’t the same for him.

Y/N: ‘You know you can't give me what I need And even though you mean so much to me I can’t wait through everything.’

The emotion played on her face as it always did when it came to remembering the past they shared.

Peter: ‘Is this really happening? I swear I'll never be happy again And don't you dare say we can just be friends I'm not some boy that you can sway We knew it'd happen eventually.’

She finishes the song with them. When they end, and the show comes to a close, he turns looking at her. She flips him off with a grin on her lips, she hated him, but she was still just as in love with him. He hands his guitar over to Sam, walking towards her. She grins at him, and it’s contagious he’s grinning back.

“Stay. We’ll slip out the back.” He jerks his head towards the back of the building.

“I’m sure you say that to all your groupies.” She laughs.

“Nah, only the true and through, rocking the vintage.” He tugs lightly on her T-shirt.

“Guess I could hang out with you punks.” She shrugs, rolling her eyes, sass dripping from her.

“Yeah, must be hard when rock stars want your time.” He laughs, taking her hand, pulling her with him.

“When do you leave?” She pauses tipping her head as he looks back.

“Next day. Why?” He shrugs. They had another show in town and then they moved out.

“Good, come with me.” She bounced on her toes, pulling him with her.

“Where?” He laughs, all too willing to follow her anywhere.

“My place.” She throws a grin over her shoulder at him. He picked up his steps, as she leads him towards the back exit.

Updated List: @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @mo320 @rileyloves5 @irepeldirt @pcterpvrker @tequilavet @crazy-little-thing-called-buck @lovemarvelousfics @wildefire @bluephoenix394 @dystanie-h @sebstanchrisevanchickforever19 @violinbetty @jcc04220 @petersunderroos @mariekoukie6661 @winterboobaer @girlwith100names @lumelgy @sarahp879 @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @palaiasaurus64 @ria132love @bucky-bear-barnes @jimmyisfab @capsheadquaters @pigwidgexn @ssweet-empowerment @mustbenot @whenallsaidanddone @geeksareunique @i-love-superhero @supernatural-girl97 @nerdyandexhausted @elle88531 @hunter-demigod-timelord @qnzdiamond104 @coley0823 @justmeinthisworldblr @orange-jps3497 @littlenerdgirl16 @thefridgeismybestie @breezy1415 @angelicstormz @rockagurl @angelicstormz @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @kgbrenner @kapolisradomthoughts @importanttimemachinenerd @s8sense @kingarthurofslytherin @shliic @itsemmyb @lesmiserablememelovingfuck @importanttimemachinenerd @wearegoldeninthenight @teenagetragediesforeveryone @iamwarrenspeace @ailynalonso15 @lovingholland

Peter Parker: @paranoiadestroyah @crayonwriting

#Marvel #Peter Parker x Reader #Avengers #Peter x Reader #Chasing Dreams #Marvel Fanfiction #Peter Parker AU Series #Avengers Fanfiction #Peter AU Series

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