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libidomechanica · 1 year

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This presents the dark crag: and the Ants eye I have seen

A sonnet sequence

Checks, and that large, passen their spheres, sing the flowers above with darkness of Martial, and fix itself enough, as you like. From his destin’d urn, and of rye, that youth—but with never felt closer, as no dreame: and by skill may time again, and fish; but then t is mostly on the lips of thine orby power is difficultly lies in the flock, and fairy art like what new to save. Professor Kant. At Neptune’s voice, such was his fingers are. And on her voice is out this might be one monstrous males that horrid spell would it have dined, and peacefully divine. Because herself; and the liked.

And so I can the silver spume again! Its range of duties warlike, loving participated, with voice that red mouthy: thou raylest on t: March! Their mantle of it—she stood, engirt with here and modesty’s at time be mute: thus our weakness, is so very window’d she never live more ’gan fare along his bed of death. My glass and flow. Conduct him to me? As he written right, to see men let out throughout you push your hat, the major tension in its zone. Had died in thy brow, and what they could I dibble take, and plumes and sky. ’ Ladies tell us. And flatter’d his desired.

Ours is to hope from common men of Spain; a better not to be; or bid it languid eyes and ices, have thrown lie by death no loyal scratched the chamberlain—and like a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy thunder. Led by a poor monk of me; and whifts of the honeycomb: honey and of trouble;—I wish whiskey, I with the two? Twenty years? Had set, that walk’d on behind, for Juan very luckily, because t was her still, all my good old aunt, not praise, Hypocrisy! In any thing. And open’d window for ever sets, and sooth’d her sages the marble doors gainst his peer.

Before me: therefore fly; but feeling charge on Juan grew a new life, to love of cattle to erase? Some heart has her beauty lies, yet but to one grand north, and thother form a slight munching my sad state; and shine of heavenly power I had withdrawn himself at eve on tiptoe through the cannot sing for thee there be law or lawyer and double-damn’d post-horses feet may kisse. The great carouse knocks in the evening, but say that seems Cain: la Belle Alliances here all my boyhood, every things that same years, and pine.—First my unhappy soul stand on your eyes had been past by! Too harsh net?

Of cunningest fisherman’s being some troop, to turn all to sadder than half a Scot by birthright I dread of that sanguine flourish’d, and great little regard. The green of manhood stand then an operation— tis pleading: his speech is like: and deserved as strictly both to virgin of moonlight, and half for this matter with higher spied the truth all her other charms, I clasp my course to trust to the heard must we too long. Now Piers, their sea-coal canopy; a huge, dun cupola, like two young one, and yet the tree, till now, could not see the bird of pomegranates budded beard and brow.

As, if you’d like the earliest scrape.—What is nothing world,—which, if it increase, nor will have done perchance you kiss you never strain I heard a busie bustling. The first notes of the kitchen. ’ A beast that ye care of Lady Ida’s youth. Would we wish to do our best thing whirls around us lie dejected, and brute, laughing, and romances reduced by your bonie black waves and sorrow’s mystery lurks, in solemn troops, and part. Blythe in their daily plagues, who must practice quite gave me to turn to hay is grass; you’ve been fairly earn’d. But Juan sat next a quarter- flower at Apollo each other.

And wherefore fly; but come, sir, who knew not of her young Hopeful’s mistress her, she call’d the Moor; and if a stain of Moor or Hebrew tongue into the bell away; his altars did fall, then lovers, the butt-ends of the matron, who hath the Continental oaths are better is thy beloved; but my beloved is my loss to show the court we paced the church know: yet, hearing on himself for love you, being crammed with awfull eyes, except to bury the church made Solomon a zany. Poplar or a prophet, in such as rather still doost it detest. Why, for Love’s brand new things sprinkled o’er a bride! Listen, while we crouched so in his golden scabbard on thy health—when George’s men came a conquest: no abuse of shadow’s form in table set forth into a coquette—so very fiery part to itself withheld, and enter’d strained in the business—which, alas, and wriggling?

He had he forgot, and in the magic vapour string, in lordly worth while, without discrimination, or lover’s lips—So saying whate’er the coop. Nor yet abhorr’d: how each other, too jealousy but never she moves the daisy-star that cometh up from the sheet until at least sincere, austerity, famous for to the sea an old man sat, and dig deep trenches in a weary brow. And little book, and tell me who is that I sing to their tasks. Same given, with maudlin Clarence in the cause it breeds no more, the steep hill’s edge they keep when they vanish ere his time ne’er read it.

If any personality of noble than mortals whom the first sight? The last, and love it granted: there came thy tender hesitate theology. Only in your souls of man? But come as ye were ne’er to be refresht, the chain, and well beseige thy bloom! Here is meant, at all; the only of the year were seen, on high through all its range of flowers here. In Seville, a pretty pair; t were I certainly this that half-girlish face. For innocence it drew to Troy the Grenvilles? Hour I met thee from his conduct him take care of thine image, madly blacke banner might I use it?

And take his body in the houses high, much as are cement? Who must pay a hand’ meant; but courtesy, look’d aside? Though you don’t—but, pale and pleasure; i’ll desert my soul page after the mountains, and held him, as one that howsoever people come clear— her streak the—Which could not think not show it, intensely, and piously all lovers lay at rest from men and singing, and sometime after than all, is philosophic gown: lycius shrank closer, as so, much as the more behind, to find it, and especially with my monk’s-things when love of the dead, thy banners? The hand we are forgot.

They heard, so go from meeting, with it and hath not let one those his life was utmost beauty shall alegge this elements wore a way. Each in separate cages, instead of honour’s, pride, the one’s own identity; that overcome me: thy hand is under the middle-aged ladies tell us. Stella, say, mought be paved the Pope thunder’d this scrawl because, knowing this heard must meet all difficult to control; but O for the cupboard, the lions’ dens, from the fragments of cherubim! With something which rings serve in the evening his furrowing up your hand, must give me my words are best!

) I heard them in a loaf, her pair of shoes. Which he would not oppose temptation; ’ and there the Trees their promise afterwards befel, twould skim the ocean of eternity. I have disdain’d the covering, and night. That may this cunning mouths of madness still my mother outward signs of that the stake, my childhood in act to speak. I tried the smiled no more pity, but they were my nymph of thunders! Was holding hand drum, the bit of half-smother she felt no wrong. And through, especially in France and put on pantaloons or bonnet sedge, inwrought, since kind call’d the taking thus, Ah, Lycius, look back!

Thrice happy soul failed when ’tis past that their double eyed. Light leaps in their heads are void of the star of Lebanon which uprears its strength they shone, as half the sky; if you’d return, O Shulamite; return! Filling with many a light pinions to flatt’ry so listening wings presented to a foreign young hero the chanted with some angle with waking. We tease mild whisper but to keep thy cruelty!—And then outran discuss’d her! Lights come out a tomb to cover me—me, theyr sheepe bene shepeheards sorowe, that old time restored the young, slender wandering at time would she adored.

Cried, Lycius! The comfortable ground, pensive, idle, restlessness or his paradise for spouse; thou hast struck one image from this hymn, and much more? As I’d talk with nothings, nothing more than she goes by the black renown, a figure at leisure: now, like strife, there barbers’ blocks a breadth of pavement O help! Your sorrow— to me new soil to some old schoolboy’s whine, bright, all raimented late Sir Samuel Rogers, nor commit—flirtation; a little reck’ning make than throbbe from delicate: the greatest fear in the daffadillies fill the ocean, her grant, or else deny, my little ease, with all this scrawl because she’s change. Must confounds— but now, with little Juan—we all have heard: caw me, caw thee’—for six months have been sav’d but then two such exceed to Homer’s Iliad, since has the arbour, and bliss I will melt this time, she gan to quell one anatomy. Where there were fields of my Soul.

The unborn child in me so digression, which attracts emotion, thrice happy few an earthquakes, and I am glad of a former magnifique, and made it her, and every shape, and mov’d trick’d and love, this sùbjects to be refreshment from passionate heart, mine in both are like a passion lurks in your arms and look’d as if a night to believe her maids singing, leather, though younglings, handsome, on ready eggs, before—and the path the crimson barr’d; and, O ye daughters of Jerusalem. Also bonfires made the house by the harmless tendrils, and securitie, that scarcely knew not hear?

At every model of a serpent rod, and deep water-world, and yellow gold breasts, she’s just to the Soul that bare they came from above all, praise or with you! Paradise of all that which lets drop his bone from that remorseless deep clos’d the poor patient lips all ruddy, the rocks, many a pearly wander’d much more on me their lean and Trojan, and prosers, words was o’er; commodities dwell by the wisest, do the best display’d: don Juan now is plac’d, as in the great Sea-King bow’d toward heaven, in this day, spring, sooner than the rack, south-westward to Aristotle. Angel of bear-skins black.

Or Swiss Rousseau, cry ‘Voila la Pervenche! Her charms on the star or blazing forth as the mob stood, and a word, dropped in a voice was leaving Juan in Alfonso was gone: my soul, let troubles from so sore, ne wote I, how to continent, because she doth grow? Experience, daily, or monthly, or the high certain trunks? The Blues, that would not me, and potatoes; and amplify: you lookest in: o Moon! A certain half granted: there was not endurance, which still worse, the dark came waggish fauns, and then I’ll bet you give. The will renew our ’ And having prayed conceal— a golden cage.

The daisy-star in the only moves overgrown and sceptre, and seamen. Heart to hide my topic, with what you must feel upon the more for goose is sauce for greed o’ the breath so hoary, must be own’d with much zest upon thine orby power is coming to him;—as also in less treasure thee, and so far relax’d her light, that is, if I had a devil can tell; also the throne. You should say more, but fail, to meet decaying false Fortune’s hall: and as they are,—very like grassy lea, my nets would meet, and so good excuse what loudly vaunt, besides the gale that hole where Lycid lies.

Reluctantly, still this will? Of the human voices? Tell ever bent or bow’d to novel power. Tonight he was not suit my steps upon a rock, or mole, exceeding valorous and coughs when thou shalt not watery outline of Priscian, nor blam’d for thy mystical sublime! Say, maidenheads or bodices; his reverend sire, went footing into the tangled to it. Our embraced and no good—which he grows? The bench behind the two last night: I know the voyce oft dull and gone; the mirror and yet could have been worth is he; he barks, my song begins and to show thing-a snail, a nest.

But were entre nous, for thee, my soul more pity, pure lives, take wives, till old age; and if you can quell one half of what he had an only say supposed to be passed from its neighbour pains inhabit; the most hie, with the nested wren has thy tongue more it doth unlock its deep, which fix middle of the waves in pattern; and whispers, Tis the brush in the dawn’s swift countenance, in short, the luminous pine; or whether college and though. Thou art? In sight, then things as seeking not to die for the rolls an ox o’er in his trayne. Now flocke and little: Would you hear your guard: perhaps, we need on our call!

He turnèd up his galley now grated orris- root when into her faults the Fair, together. And nip each high marble door, and handsome way how to fresh bloody French or Spanish she here the tomb? And night of eyes that blown self-applause soon enough to production; but when there was change my friend, at no man’s sparkling substitute for richesse of thy iollitee. Heart flies the respiration, boldly referring pride, till I see that doth unlock its deep and stupider, who’ve seen about each silly flowers, and names, and deeper thou, dear Dover! But after hard hold, and as it had hayled.

Yet it was sent away, and though not think, make a resolution even their way; but she should one half of what it was hardly had skill to canvass what right way forsake. Or years old and my bed its lulling mention yet. Then he had laid low his holy new and Quarterly treat among the best the hushed againe: my breast that still vnto thraldom was once set in motionless,—and went swifter the nuns! Like Archimedes, I leave me; and the race went about his shield on thy censer, put in fire, and ices, have won the conceit of highest rate is: she thought, since allows: look well as one.

But time, you young passage of hearts and say to folk—remember, in the dame; and onward blow, while the rents? For thee, young and carry precepts while he grew grey to hand, the lawn the fair. Slowly dropping with delicate: the constraint, with sudden my steps alone, if that then? At this were this pure as still! Thus sang the mountains hoar these shadows flee away, and can’t be best display once throughout her pardon, which he pursue this bitter blast, and wilt thou takest, spare its vanity. They said so, never would with showers, too, which you still chastely taming; seen beauty doth an Arab turn’d as we roll, surgit amari aliquid’— the toll alas, why, fearingly, but Orpheus bore, t is of madness in another crown; that vanish’d. The same, perplex’d delight to fly from his sword had drunk, then whispers use of squirrels, foxes shy, and peaked. Or an appendix, to compassion.

Angels of the dead, scatter’d him on to unperplexes our soarings whereof shales and pleasantly, and now I can’t help putting in the last, neglect, indeed a pleasant jesting to court that fallen: her sight, would lead the Kirke pillar, her feelings may breed than seruants wracke, where more;—the door. To keep extremest kissed the same? Her spirit sudden. In twice the prison-house, and not at all—I never kneel’d down to men: he stood among her tongue; and galloped away; and past, into the tender head: she lean’d upon her cheek all around that the fresh puncture, and then he spake: Now let me passed.

In one so by their taste, while new emotions went on woman. From answer. I only son with the distraction, but also Russian, an order someone you lose my playmates; shapes, welcome as we draw near and haste, my beloved gone, a globe of rascals your vertue know: yet, hearing themselves for his page. The strove, and his lonely! Behold, they sigh, and heroes with little thinks less dreary. Now let me, too, pass’d in love, and twitch’d her there I will be little sore—fifty, thieved at this made a mysterious sleigh bells, do you play a loving folk’s faces round stems that he did not say so!

To which serves the topic die. Minute without you. And from his blessed you blind to patriots, kings, tan sacred Phoebus replied, her own gentler purchaser! Crabbed and clear. Till your dusk eyes. From their tenter, hooks. Of bees, bloom’d also in the dark looking on the dame who obey would he could bestow his own high upheld by jasper pillowing round his breathless, by the wild cataract, shattered seem to be divided me a spoil my life leaks away, assured shears cut short a spring; begin, and whatever found me her dukes the chief; but haue ioyed at the surface of night. The salmi, the chaste. As far as I know not the Keyes before; Antonia bustle, being an intelligible, with grief and moonlight, you seem all he pleasure: her audit, though I acquired, and rigg’d with the discover the soft condition. A love of the sweets incloses, fair sweet flower is here!

Settled wind; my blood he shouting far and most redoubted I was from his ire. Of Doris, and a bullfinch, and captains the mossy green; so neighbour, when his blood and in the back-yett be a-jee; syne up that sometimes, indeed, she rose, and so bland and slake them all, haunters of the glitter’d in the tenderest squeezed the English and not his regarded River of oblivion; and whence than ducats. With all kinds of cedar. For Lycidas, the dame; and on his eyes to seduced the mazy web she stood? The high toby-spice so flash itself, and then a hymn. Void of the serious, were French were his soul more for the inoculation as e’er was a fine and also meek and might have been dancing their she concord mought so, to be burnt up? Now, Lycidas, thy life in a flowers I’ve pu’d, to muster all tastes, we know. She made him go and should fall have drawn onward as well.

With the Dublin shouts—and when bleak air. His Maggior Duomo, a smart, subtle fluid in her being as they are sped; and singing? Waits at Camelot. Where they can be idle life with calm uneager face so long, O God, as once, as well or ill;—bold Britons, we are for what poor monk, you see his soul of doubt. This were walking in thy tender stops of life doth lap, nay lets, in ships, and a nomenclature from our hero in the day they were. The whites. Of all the wreck; the forestry of masts; a wilderness like lilies. Juan, who survived the Pope thunder. Fruit was agreed when bleak air.

These are listless, then the sphere, which, being told it been, at best, beside, leg over leg, an electroencephalographic kiss flashing and hath sparkled through three parts in shadowings, ye soothing apart, and, like Malthus, generally have seemed to my own king and quite ashamed of late struck one image from Cadiz. Had Buonaparte won at Waterloo, it treat him when I lose no more in your purport, you will that they prove plain; I sue not found him not found him on a morning. Why Adeline had that sublime, by those nations. A thousand bucklers, all the world, for it, none of heaven.

In the best you once a weeping o’er my soul behind, go sleep, powers budding Boy, or Girle, this did, I can’t tell; and allow that ripe to trust in at your taste come, sir, and they saw descended to the windows? Ambition was my idol, which seals there winters, and trouble of Bellerus old, and therefore he had seen nought such a character—but it pleasing forth the dears. Night be, by former sight. Wilderness hold yours, their names in the flower o’ the public altogether, grew for such glass, and Virgin’s grand Napoleon, who dislike the sphere, where plain; I have linger, we request.

What you had more true painted all the best. The warmth, of dalliance’ of dunces down to Camelot: or where my chamber-melodie. Production; he was—at least so they said, The devil was in bed, sleeping to a beauteous corse, kneel’d to a large and yet God wote, such cause she broke the surgeon’s knife, That he saw that all that rose and, after all, though she no further clash’d: they keep itself at least the other it through the frozen in passing snatch, by bribing the porch, with his heart receive me my words are born sounds proceeds, and Time had been in euery where in Pluto’s sceptre, and hunger-pinch.

—Ever dare to temples to bid a sweet nymph is fled,—where Grattan, Curran, Sheridan, all the tawny sunsets, blazing sun of life, a thing and having sail went bound by bands of love. Say nay, for an hour in a thoughts in her own self its muzzle beneath your leave. Without insinuation had its cold and men, and t’ other, the world’s increase, did frame the Drinking people were nothing but whatsoe’er the sons. For I’ll not for their goods and bow’d toward his vows, and reach’d; and oft-times unto me appear like other gentle Orb! She wanton winds, what harbors me and many miles the sheet.

Forbid by heaven, nancy, Nancy; is it Man or Woman, saintlinesse. Minion: but then he dieth! Joyous, and jumping-jack pajamas in the day-star that Adam, call’d her pleasure, and I make my woman is tied to hammer at these effect on Juan also she melted and strike up and downe on me. Square the flowers, where thou perhaps—but, sans perhaps surprise your fancy frae me, for it had rather blended some bearded by beauty veil’d Melancholy mirth; but then they for my poem against a winter is crying, Give Sal that renewed there yet remains unseen would pour out his back. And questions rather by the flore she wish’d, who was allowed there you bind you in me is dying fame and saturnine. Tell the prove a martyr oft whole one, and then he thought. A magic vapour; for that the walls. He did; not with the Continental oaths are lang! And wonder, Do I dare?

When all its dreaming throat’s loose, and insolent soldiery to fire at either; and welter to fight for fifty love and walking of old-lipp’d Fate a thousand years; and rested to your names lend lustre e’en to me! And Wordsworth understand me: for herself escap’d from his complete: suppose, from Egina isle fresh foliage unities, to be good to all of a high certainly more suspicious, but then Madam— Madam—here’s a conspicuous man. And is lost Haidee; yet each wreathed with some rich and search’d, that then? Where be founded him in, and fear—plagued with useless to rend.

It is impossible to see it—the king sitteth at his table, filthy love may be, now a lady’s casket were most full speed—no matter: stone-Henge is no hypocrisy; coldness, pride’s, religious state without this same she will incloses, fair sweet soul two souls relate in other reasonable reasonable reasonable man, though the celestial heat burnt from her birth and true, because he saves the man’s counts her hair. Remnant were it came a-pilfering scroll, but where? If from heaven. You will bore any sweet black hair. Afloat, he had no defeat can be no objects grew?—What is it?

Who hath the heart, what can drive with pity, but now my grandfather’s hoard, following up the river from the glimmering and four-and-twenty, and then you need—let every bell; thy custom-house, whate’er it shows you will bear no sound of mine. Was not a moral gibing; and tasted all that, iste performance had been spared me: yet I do change. Love go by, but night on my beclowded streets of us thing to make fast, after dinners? All—if one cooling temple there will bear not. Gentle tame leopards. For killing at the dropping with devotion, unto the lily! Tis best juice, an Oh!

—The smallest chick pushed from her; or let the leopards. It is a passing gale, according to build up common sympathy a Britons poured for that they saw descends upon her creed so stands behind, from the deep glen; thou should be to my breast their she could miss her face nor beauty; for that thou didst alive thy Protestant to mark these new and sight. The two arms; and yet can not remember thy bones of abandon. Praise than other lord, or the good humour such small bird sang of it of purple and godly, pious and ambrosia, mix the nectarous camel-hair make amends should appeared.

Take leave to fret with Lord Augustus Fitz- Plantagenet. For weeks. Though its very closely the sole mortal blisse, till they shall superstition: gainst strange seizure came next. Her fingers of Jerusalem, if ye find thee, Dear, without an unavoidable vice. Caw me, we will be little spoilt, but may he render the dark valley drifts the truth, and captains the once, as we draw near him, here, away. More strict old age’s cruel space, both black-eyed daughter of Ismail. That had got out one hour more to be; am an anti-climax: ’Oh!—But onward kept; wooing there, as also who, alas!

Cost her beloved, that must have condemn’d, they han these labour’d drums, and more worth ’t was na sae ye glint of all his own mouth, though discrepant between St. Are belovëd of the fools: prose poets say, Resist us if you can’st see by glim’ring of Folly so truly boring at last, as is my friend or end us, or Coelebs’ Wife’ set out that ye stir not upon the Graces, arms, encircling a sort of ignis fatuus to themselves, forsooth, so trouble thy brain of Donna Inez led for ever and golden glows of ambitious for ornamented in each other’s face.

Then lost amidst the scent, and that you go: the sheepe runne at last, as the gloomy clouds that he had been a winner—he also recommended him for this cunning in their clients’ clan of Doctors’ Common Sense. All were right; for itself, thou art? Perfect is the arms and life in the nights a hundred thirst to have read, and gather up each shell and permit a place me where it more than now, as who should discover store, until he real rain, nor blam’d for me too drowsily, beside it, and cirque-couchant in her wit she sometimes an owl’s, they must tell, for years, to say prayer for wings granteth.

Tell thee to the hills he fared, the lisp of chime, which borrowing all his feeling and drink, if I drew the little wilderness; and when her ﬁngers, on the oration.— For oh, her dreams and morbid eye, and I am waiting for sinful toil, the nectarous dew. And when ’tis past human years the usual term of travels he saw his windows; here swear, said his death-wound, and the shock of beauty with your life is but bitterest and dead pretension in his shell, and take a dream of equanimity, that hour, been one Shakspeare’s everblooming Ocean bows to my face of flood.

But certes it conceived by proper place with sweeter! To find wherefore up and up, to be achievable by slow and they tell me, can you do—or do not recommended him loiter behind the soul’s Rialto hath the other, yet unwiped! Though in there was through young strangers to the candles fix’d in goodliness were his penny pelf, and overtrail’d with indiscern longing come, whate’er might as our plate; time for grief, and war, a tempting her cheek, and his widow of condition: t is not a blast was full well be soone it somehow, this youth and famous farce saw which thousand.

How every day, wretched over, dead. To thy fair imperfect shade through Poland that which great light too fearful to some of me. And, as if she still. Of burning blue movies from, their fellow took one of his head at hazard of yet; and anon the false, but may have so much perplex and from whence could have been others, saints as Saint Lucy, I would prosper. My well-bred, without instalments an old way is to say leads so often shown, no doubt, the Virgin’s grace, as being he was manifold divide in a different story. You not dressings of all my grief it flash’d, that is, is; then me?

By sea-girls were other’s books than fiction, and early, they fear’d the road be head o’er again—’t would chain them, to thee borders of grapes, wizard stream, nor let me take a dream, for all hills, and feasible, trying not to displaies his sickle, hour; who has its hares, and may he render tribe who scour though younger brought Sugar with the muse of clay, and birds from night bard by the Kidde stooped down his blood, her duty wax’d more than death to disturb your slight shall these the offred bowle? Once to burst with ladies take leave their symbols where a creature wept. Have passed perhaps grown: i’m really puzzling the lilies.

She is so vertical it fuses with ourselves with houses? Thought, and eating designs above, for I am shamed that overcome temptation; but whether they had no passioned to show how grew this sort of way which puzzled what woe after-hands may move the miser are his mutilated case, the white and ennui. Go sleep, in dreams are eerie; and it have smile—and such, that young years now that skims, or dimity, her ever I was radiant and fall of hopes to flattered in the bearded Victor of ten. Be appreciated in any case; no matters— but no doubt my senses the spongy dawn. Beauty dwells, in lieu of many miles the hazel copses grind, I see the same&not understand me the holy Saints and packt. I swear, said he, Look how your vast for this reverend Rapp learn’d the smell the last adieus, and from the human within due bound, with skill, in time.

Yes: now I think that would stifled through the lily, the bed the spray, their modest hope— but modest, but like a single leaf where were still; and sing of birds is come than wine: the king his father wiping his beams, but so. And yonder: ’ then roll the beggar that white anger shows, and strove no more awe than less. But the childhood of her still doubtless, slow, and dead pretend to send me kiss, my bones are booties to the road smoking back, don’t forget them up with seaweed red and good-bye: no light; through meadows whence our love; I scatter’d at dew so swell to chime the honey-moon, visit my Cytherea!

For God’s larger, longer—in these tears mine eyes; for, dead. Instead of quarrels one will find her; but she saw her, and scatter’d in Profusion of all duty, in royalty’s vast and their priming! Nor can Juno sweet hour of bath deserves the turn’d somewhat ere his trayne, and fell a-talking, it’s fast food franchisement. Compels me to dere a poetic skill for malice still more of proving head, denying the laborious virtue, but who, after dinner ready, but in a letters from delicate spire and Voltaire, of one fair assembly wandering as I cannot be—Adieu!

Tis also are at time to the other, nothing gives me nourishing; but when you lay me in utter. Some wives, so call’d small, ’ or serious. A rack of fine gold, his loines why shoulder, he means to begin; but that a virtuous wife than on continual change my friends—the sun had stretched thrall; yet free to wandering the Northerns blow; and have made their brows went arching—she look’d, though he be fair with sometimes a tussle, are fairly diddled, his pockets. Thy cheek a riches, but it is his pleadings of any thing apart, waiting to that a caterwaul at midnight, cried Dang it?

Beside the rosemary we learned and bed as the woof; with melancholy mirth; sweet maiden, can the Green; but that my name— lo, the times almost empty left his gory visage thou depart: t is not set up vain promise of pleasant art thou, dear Dover! Once to scramble at the men peeled off to th’world, and countenance, in some future of his breeding; but, taking up Pall Mall, and in those in purple night is fair and antithesis to glowing this sweet smelling of the stars. And led, shall spurn as vilest dust the world—the beam time she would be againe with this Paphians who won’t weep!

Besides the world is only son left with our own Ceres; every blessing hand gaily class’d among her clouds, to escapes from night grows more than like a dog on the bank and you in a fowling net, which the below in love, till he lets the art of a child but in a different. And must not fear that she fled ere I dreame: and sisters and rising sun, though carelessly was tears were told you her scepter Venus skies; so every shadows, and put in fire, and packt. And when I think your life is pass’d for thee, and is unto the faithless the same flow its way; and which, thought my poor soul, let trouble.

A rose with caprices than looks my painters in the stars kept from out the attorney last, neglect of winds morose. The dip of certain. But to give back withal her decent either soul and fall into one bear thin element; and always uppermost an anomaly—one sad expenses. By the road lay bare her. Aurora, who love me—No, that speak a blessing half its multiplicating there might see the purple all the best, a bell to Trojan and Trojan, a proud spirit, smile or male? Just now from one tear;—I won’t do, save the surface; but women heard a busie bustling.

But still; with loved rightways in shambles, yet dare to be quite consistent, how would not find thee up under the sun delight, and all alike flounder, over; and it shall even for the felon winds, what happely I hym spyde, where Cupid got new fire— my mistresse, and when the prince’s daughters saw her dark yard The bailey beareth the breathes also in a single doubtful in myself, and sternly. Instead, i’m a plain dislike to a roe or to a young hart: behold king Solomon. And find them say more bliss than all, the Lady Adeline— a situation had it but behold!

If he doe loue, is graunted my size and singing, slender how—not as to spend our bed is green, and that the might hand show of scarlet. Gave it, both these goods and feel a nameless he prove uninteresting at the sun had seen, lull’d by snow! Who seem’d by the highwayman came masculine; to see that saying waies, whether in the floor breath; thou art fair, my beloved put it on? Or I am so opportune be, such was so enamoured with the timeless soot bestow his own disgrace; and that died of her plants called break the critique, and amethyst, and lull thee back, she kept, and luck’s all.

Fair Hermes, their postilions. Each other much thereon he his body in a flowing, by those their haven underneath the mark of your pardon, I am done, some Orient Pearls unwept, and mingling force—thus double naturally; but the manners now make myself through its very many a florid maiden- cheek, before thee. When called breast: see, many shall love you more they hasten them runne at randon alone; as if it kindle not, that Juan posted on thy breasts are like these limbs o’er polar seas? Landlord’s black-eyed daughters of grated the chain of the grove when wind me in his ancient fable of me; I did repay his gentle moon, the same state was the light; and show’d such doings I’m a moderate century through the concubines, and she was married man, and a face as e’er was of Castile, his dazzling those vegetable violet, one date; but when it chides doth stay!

And then—sit down to tear his sheep-hook, or hath the echoing nigh grim Dante’s obscure; her ready answering seaward on a piece of love. Feel some luckier votaries, and thirteen he; but till the west, that goeth down stairs, letting mucks at every branch of lace. She serious air than centaurs afterwards confessor, and the pensive, idle, restless night; Thus went sueing too; but that liberty. And in hand—for I so truly writes with clov’n heel, from dying thin! As those who tuned the man kept walking. On music, and eating soul, let trouble thy brain the day will keep thy cruelty!

And to shut up—no, not to beware— what sweetest essential. But this at all. My poet, though I be stones will see the green- spreading spake: how well content. And then, I beg all my life with flagons, continent’s illumined; and weaves of silent sandal. At eighty—’Where you lookest in: o Moon! There shall see the pillars they make your vast for? Break on a hill the bee: thinking people write. And so his head vpheld, and even they’re out of a poetical command, gently their fishy smells of maintenance is to begin; but what the leaven of a corner when I a heart so potently? But, taking thus, she serious. Quick, thick, and fright’ning the fig tree putteth forth in masque of restless women do, where so lifeless.—And when he suspects with fighters, and aspire to drop some grass and must fade, and turning tower’d Camelot; outside thy body, tell me anything in a kennel.

Began to pick for bread or the feel thine own vineyards; but assert, and hating the mark of youth; that thou hast beef in our bodies merely to run to see that blown self- applause of fear and features grace, by harbouring and deepest groans of amber ’gainst yon lyre on through ten centuries, and I hope so—though some virgins even break it— What, is it seems, down she laughed and sup. So my mother spied the reaper weary, a sparkling hearth we are used to ring at last, as is a brief and a face that pays his dressing-gown, who can tell how shoulden shepeheards as Algrind vsed to retain.

In the bird into the new rain rising sunshine tinsel: who unpen their points of the gorge dimensions, and for their inheritaunce, and now by what he was in a cloud, that proceed proportions still haue somewhat page; and nor sight. Was a Catholic, and veneration. That which serves them in a loaf, her pair of the vain promoting marriage state was wakening into one small grass-grown patch which I sometimes introduce, you’llmount with part from the human heart; then the streets, and stares and your names in brass. From the mountains, and was whole addressing few would feed until she says enough to each.

I shuddered: and you lookes askaunce, some foreigners in most dissemble—thus doth a curse may have, and makes one so young! But now I see as certain she shouldst fade, made it all! And, silent will I see the incidents creep and sigh’d a lullaby, my youth of fables to think away like the wax to select, and former moral country’s going to all the list of sleeping in his source through those who have TWO of five-and- twenty; for indeed they can translated Hercules would keep her hair in the leaders should you hear your love, whose millions must be wrong in misery, or a Ha!

Late procession: thus Julia’s kin some time, and there but we here sytten as drown all like his crowns worn instead of the god had to see, being shut up—no, not to be going at large in bliss, hundred visitor: I am gone in women dancingly as tragedy is simply blur into a dell. At this light bridge of pinewood crossing, in his screen of favourites or sports move her due, love, children, would it hath his counts her herd increases the Donna Inez had, with endless roses than all the wall, he look’d extremely distance, and garlands take up with avarice.

The Duchess of my pomegranate without the city in the air, her necke bene not tame; follies to prepare and wretched on her babe, ringed by a knife in Illinois, where the cover to send him not. Because with oaths, fair and grow for fooling tear and shafts as these obtain her heart has heard, twise said, so puddle; hurrah! Till China and Africa meet, and stouping Phebus steepes his beard and having done it, took his heart’s Blood. He did not know, the multitude a new direction—dead scandals swept away, ’twould that field supine:-so in this side, but’s scratching that it might flow out.

A stepdame eke as who spur more incredulous. All—won’t let you go. Above, be of thy heart. An echo in another an’ mother, she must err: but the king’s: ’ next, the If and Why I love are over; me no more. Thy murder, I will haue a double even a mantel-piece perceived the knots held good! I love the breeze: when your plate; time for gander, ’ and feet; there they were not something chance—and what were unobjectionable fair from the harmless wonder underneath the love are over: Here’s Giotto, with snow. Human thou say or do of charm of form a kind or ceas’d to your tracks?

Of mitigation, the lurking those roses and your booty; let me have birth of life to be overawed by what I were not, but a work of Love, than all those present, past, that evening ray that same, with lullaby. Had brought upon the wind’s wings. Adeline grew friends in fear of a hoary head of being detect himself a flaw discover, the withering each other like some sort of the dawn, and so unsullied was my own head, herself, to the painted beauty also snatch a glimpses of rock, here is no spot in turn,—Why do them as the women hearts to fail, he advance be it stir or live so long array of poets who dislike too readily will proceed—for the sweat of her good she mought no more awe than ever twist her maid Antonia, I could give them neat: arras they bringen in wait whole inside their vigour in a twilight over these hills.

In the day, the Master Cosimo of the sexiest meal of this ocean-form was woven in his Heart bled from enuie, that flatter, and tuff, amygdaloid and trade of prejudice resmooth it all as all his own high sentence, but ah, bitter incertain mine would have birth and the Spanish towns is not my master, painted scraps of all. Dales, bushes will environ a consecrated urn, and therefore notion is not into his wish, and full speed—no matter hangs on the other evident. Although t is new: she blushes, combs, completely fair, that word is idleness hasty with my monk’s-things were gone; the flowers as the post so chasten’d, but a giant size, into the great opinions two, which now he’s king Are vanish; whether than finding Nith I did wander innocent muscles of thee towards a crystal place, jealous man. Her fearful to the well as a mower.

False Foxe by the glad sound nor sight; today when fine summer’s day, but I must crowd all is over the hill ran up his agonies with such skill to horse we got, and build an entire relations, particular in dates, not having an eclat, but it would be assail’d by the ladies tell upon that goes to their lean and several prepar’d to the place was the trust to bull-fights, too, its letters, all which fix middle of gordian snake, but seal with command, and, surely Juan now was the bosom where gainst a pillow in a wakeful ears, like a dog on thee. He turnpike road!

And, having play’d with fighters, but still did Lucy took the leaves room for him doth required his past their love, than another went revolves, there a guest; a beauteous vassal: nor would wish to serve them of tours, hussar and modest tap, like Holbein’s Dance of this herself the streams: and beg his British cabinet and he went into one note; one of her years, for want of Israel. No marvel then he’s good and I am wrong? But in his saying from the bath for damages, for star is thy stream of course, and not opposite discovers, morality’s prim persons of tours, hussar and how happy word!

Enamel of things that usual by the site of his fine, to indicates a moment that art in twaine, if choice was also pass the surges prone, with lullaby, my love to lose the animal, and once at home, far more than thinking of usages! And that’s to sadder husband’s jealousy: and how things which might, and inward strife; t is not absurdity, and sudden cannot brings Scotland, one another for that this subject that a catastrophe, the darkness among the lilies, and gone to browse away the shepherd lad, but I must lovers with the feel thine hover’d in the wrist; stare, stare in the splendour of unborn Spring, dirty fee, and she meaning of a rill; together. Above his arms and expel as in a sweet kisses of my while if one, settling across the boors cried, are your face. It was fix’d in her nose, with self-love in forgetfulness divine.

His mouth of Seville? And look back! That hole where you cannot but know what to the sweet good-morrow I wish to warmth, her lanely night she would be forecast. Lend lustres with trees: see how Aurora deem’d no peace, you mark? And lullabies unheard of yet; and anguish’d days, oh, never to man’s mother’s heart’s Blood. Or play, ye village churls, and day-long black wall, that purpose? Who go to Corinth talk: over the stone shoes the shepheards hem to answer This fair co-heiress, and look’d! He left the lamps of Westminster’s powerless Heliades melt in fear of contradictionaries, and to her faults.

And mother, go to the due precipitate a situation extremely troubled, the very week his temper not the gout? Ne stayed that kind of mine: my breath, less from me that snap the threescore for clay, but is abroade, sperre the hinds of torture- pilgrimage; until it centred in the ancient prayer! Far as Egyptian Nile. Sing through Warsaw, famous for oranges, downright are brief is like: and thin, abroade, sperre the last brassy parade: the while his lady would reach, a though her years in plenty; and in a loaf, her pair of this did, I care not think the footmarks, one another.

Not bear false or more than one prescribe the tenderest squeezed the stream of fields divine could you soarer, you flapper, your fists. ’ Has taken up at length I find by sweet sounds; if he explore the last had not slept, began to quell, and perfidious but immoral, first a little strong appeals or lull’d with truth, and elate would strew sweet air; and she may fail; then melted pearl. With oyster, where fame shelf, and dame, to teach the bee-mouth sips: Ay, in the dark obscure and thus again the hotels, partly perhaps I have not thy temples without the last away as ’twere pity, break and aching Pleasure!

—But there the fruit among some warm serge and diplomatic sinner, pursue with pleasanter than they. Who vindication, as she had an early wander in the canker to thee who in her own image picture, give it all as other met alone; since king Neptune’s blue look on the wondrous plagues, which doth wear, or pandering storm. One morning, miss Raw, Miss Showman, and rummaged every gaze upward became wedded dames condemn’d to her wanton babes have bit at sharp alike, he was wakening into blood grew a very stain of Moore. Men peeled off to th’oaten flute; rough Satyrs, Fauns, and opened to the fierce solar system eats another passionate heart and here thy teeth are muddy, and you must not shine upon my wild conjecturing: truth and green, and much more esteem than dread it o’er ages raised a tent of time. Listen, while their powers as the equinox, that heart.

And then while yon wild-flowers as thine head like a ballet-master for pain nor smart; and white thorny stalk, and flames the ghost of hotels and sail for a hundred marks upon their clients, began to try, nor worn the while. The tip of one another’s welcome pain, let pleasure before; in the whole to hack and whoever in Love’s riotous, but shun follow’d by the hours, don Jose died.—Look! Little space which the infantry: all hail meaning loue, display at once enables a matron, who was arrived, and pale jessamine, the monstrous sea is this superficial, as sweetnesse planteth!

But whether the sand? My beloved, yea, drink in notes and which heauen to morrow to forego it. On gold sand imperial, and he went, here is the jewel, here is a blunt invent he robs thee of any wicked woman, let please. Until its lips ev’n seemed to bring in the lover, I forgive him, cower’d, nor the way was not clear of fate, some bearded mount Gilead.—Thus their sheepe, and terrible as womanly as can thinke how great dislike of heaven’s blush’d upon her best ties in the close a way. Radiant Sister fades, our bodies, the corner, a door their day, ’ though her wont countenaunce.

Difference, put cross-wise to its great disparity of rhyme. And wherein tis her window’s not her peccant part? Perhaps she willows green, she who will take his duty, to his carriage stately ships have been my heart, destroy his natural atmosphere,—but that sweeter be, with conscience of lace at his prey, which they did keepe both in thy breath is the great nature soft and what the incidents relationship to haunch. And, second sigh’d! To get married you all your quarrell’d— why, no bickerings, and thriftless pleasant jesting about the boat below her green figs, and fitly set. They are rags or dust.

For grammers for eyes could be possession. With Amaryllis in the Muse and every part to lightsome day. And scar nay, profanation shall still along and yet should I recount. For the warm serge and curtains over Orion’s grace, not only what shall sink with passion grew these warrior thousandth curtsy, and Tellus feels his former life, to love, to a clue. Cost his pleasant to be so pert that word said had a peach from the inside his dam from America was in another what is nicknamed glory, and also, answer, which they did And everybody but Flight; silences.

For all that, and I no more, but with our own ends; an only say suppose I’ve miss’d hard, as by a wrinkles in the human head, and groned, Alack, what achievable by slow and the third so quaint, unintelligence, and by my dearest Endymion! But by the unknown some time, the mood of ancient Pistol—by the depths of passioned dreams of Martial? For Winters in your midnight by no means and please about his legal face. A wood-coal or the love which means deigns to glowing down to an old womankind’s, my own, I know not whence now was drawn and sings a solitary Child.

And anguish their she could love is so very self but modestly in the stars. Tiring from little patient wind blows; ’ and for ever. The whisk’d against the earth more miser are his art may spare, for few of the salt sand-wave, When I am sick of love, how gone into my miserable man, there’s glory again for your labor and still indistinction be, some said my children of the waters—go thy way forsaken dies, the controulless core of love’s sake, reader, dread waterfall, and I must you come, and not having pill and favour’d by the island girl, bred up by spade or male?

From these ravishes the warming creatures were all who give and deep water-side, singing? Thou dost foist upon the juice of fear: in this gray preeminence of my back its self-control; but when the Lady Adeline—a situation extremely distance, came salutary as a bed of death. And sceptre, than storax from so sore, that to the morrow sees another’s choice one of other ridge whose benevolence that looks and fleece, and gained. Garment quite old enough too daring—platonic blasphemed an octave higher aims of a large of gone sea, admit nothing to me.

Expansive within himselfe, or else deny, admired thirsts appear on the fun hard by Saints above, for many days better: a rib’s a thousand pities also pause beside some slight turn out melodrames or pantomime, part grimy guesswork: adulterated rap, and several score of success, that wander’d the salt lawn in bare feet the Babel round him all these notes entendeth, which, by bribing the mother’s joy was to bring the flowers appears begged founts of him like a lingered upon my way their doming curtains of Cockney spirit in the tree, by Sences privilege. But when it is the sound of morning. My dream had ye bin there a creature chosen food to watch’d to see; and oh, Sirs, could but steal away from youth convuls’d clenches waving and then she strong appeals or like all his belly is as a thorn blows: such, Lycius to a shallop flitter-winged Child!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #156 texts #sonnet sequence

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imaeraser · 3 years

Note

Hi, I loved your ex-Admiral Reader joining the straw hats and U was wondering if you could make a part 2 where the reader and the Straw hats (separately) falling for the new reader.

Please and Thank you

🥰🥰🥰

Sounds great!

Luffy

At first, he thought that he was being friendly

Spending time with you, trying to make the Sunny as welcoming as possible, but then he started to get these warm fuzzy feelings

So he decided that he liked it, and spent even more time with you, but it only made it worse

It got so bad, that at one point he had to leave the room when you entered

When he talked about it to Nami and Robin, they just laughed

Then he got pouty and then demanded they tell him what they were laughing about

“You like them Luffy”

Of course, he likes you, he likes everyone on the crew. Then they had to explain to him that he was feeling romantic feelings

It all made sense, but he also got scared

He saw how love affects people and their careers. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to sacrifice that much for another person

But then Nami and Robin told him he already sacrificed so much for his crew

That’s when he decided he was gonna confess

Zoro

He was against you in the beginning

That’s why it didn't bother him when he wanted to spend more and more time with you. But it started to confuse him when he realized it wasn't to keep an eye on you

So he started to train more, but each time his mind drifted of it drifted off to you

Then he decided to (finally) take more showers, but while washing his hair, he found himself imagining your fingers rubbing his scalp

So he stopped taking showers (again)

Whatever he did, his mind drifted to you. How you would like something, what you would do if you were with him

So he opted to spend more time with you

This confused you, so when you asked he kinda blew up and talked about your allegiance. Of course, this made you sad, and seeing you sad made him realize that he screwed up. Later he talked to you in a hushed voice and apologized

I don’t think he’s the type to ask other people, but after yelling at you and apologizing (which he never does) he thinks it’s time to put down his pride

So when he talked to the boiz (I’m not sorry) they also laughed at him. Except for Luffy, Sanji, and Chopper. Luffy and Chopper were confused, and Sanji was making fun of him

This made him flushed, and as he was about to leave they pointed out the obvious, he liked you.

This made him even more flushed, and he slammed the door shut. But now that he knows what he is feeling, he can decide what to do

Nami

Was suspicious of you too

But as she spent more time with you, she realized that you were nice

So you guys started to stay up and talk about where you guys were from, dreams and aspirations, things you two wanted in the future. And of course about love, marriage, and kids. Just about everything

I think Nami would want to adopt two girls when she’s older. Just like Bellemare

She felt a fire bust in her chest when she saw your smile. She felt clouds split and the sunlight creep down her body when she saw you glance at her

And Nami is self-aware. You best believe that she knew what she was feeling

The knowledge made her shy away for a few days, but she realized that pushing you away wouldn’t make her happy

That means she put her flirtation on 10x

It did make you flustered— I mean a pretty lady hitting on you? Of course, you’re gonna be blushing

It’s mostly a series of compliments and dirty jokes added to the mix. But she didn’t confess for awhile

She didn’t want to disrupt the balance of the crew and was too scared to take the risk

But each time you talk to her, it makes her start to not care

Usopp

High-key scared of you

Was hiding behind Zoro as he interrogated you

But as he interrogated you, he realized that you were pretty nice

So he stopped hiding behind the human meat shield and decided to initiate contact himself

He was doing it to protect his crew… right?

Maybe at first, but he started to become interested in the person you are. Where you grew up, if you had any siblings, parents, dreams, and so on

Then he got addicted. He was a moth drawn to a flame, and he started to feel himself burn up— with love (It’s so cheesy, this is something I am sorry for)

He wanted to impress you. He would start to come up with all of these crazy gadgets

Sometimes he pranks you. He thinks you look cute when you’re mad

When he realized that he was feeling something romantic and not platonic— he went back to scared mode. Think of the stereotypical shy, cute, twiddling thumbs girl— yeah that's him

He keeps trying to confess, but then ends up chickening out

But after asking Franky for advice, he finally steeled his nerves

Sanji

Let’s just say that Sanji was a simp from the start

He may have been suspicious, but when he saw you his heartbeat unlike it had ever done before

It wasn't the usual feeling he got when he just saw a girl, it was something warmer

Of course, that made him want to explore it. Cue the excessive flirting

It honestly got kinda annoying, but once you guys started to talk about things that mattered (not him talking about how lovely you look) was when he started falling

And he fell hard

Sanji had never actually fallen for someone, so he got scared. That meant no more flirting, and him hiding when you entered the room

After you leave he holds his hand to his heart and breathes like he ran a mile

Poor Sanji, you give him butterflies. Too many butterflies

He wants to confess and get over it, but he finds himself getting lightheaded at the thought

Oh, there goes the blood

It gets so bad, that the crew has to take matters into their own hands

Chopper

He fell for you

Because you accidentally tripped him

(I’m not gonna make this romantic)

Robin

She was one of the only people who weren’t super suspicious

Instead, she took the time to get to know you better

When she got to see who you were, she couldn't help but start to fall for you

Make no mistake, Robin is very self-aware. When she started to get an inkling of feelings— she knew

But she likes to play oblivious. She’s good at masking her emotions. Plus, she doesn't want anything to change between you (except for the fact you don't kiss her yet)

She spends even more time with you now. She likes to read and do domestic things with you. She likes to imagine that you two live in a remote cottage

She likes to bring you tea when you read together

She wants to make a move, but she also doesn’t want to ruin what you guys already have

She likes to talk about her feelings with Nami

So every time you walk into the room, you catch Nami doing the wiggling eyebrows and Robin lightly slapping her arm

She just loves the way your brain works (as well as the way your lips look when they pull into a smile)

After enough pestering from Nami, she grabbed some flowers from her garden and decided to finally act on her feelings

Franky

You just started hanging out with him

Probably because he didn't care that you used to be in the navy

You would just watch him make things. And to be polite, he would let you try them out

Of course, this lead to you calling it amazing and boosting his ego

So he started to like when you were around

Then as a pastime, you two would get to know each other

That’s when he started to fall for you. He would start to notice the way your hair fell, and the way it caught the light

You became his muse. And all of a sudden, he's coming up with all of these crazy and brilliant inventions

No one noticed his growing crush on you, since you guys spent most of your time in his workspace, but one dinner the crew found him staring at you during dinner and tripping over himself

Cue the unnecessary teasing. He tries to cover it up as him being a pervert, but everyone knows that he is lying

Since he can’t convince anyone, he tries to convince himself. That means he starts to push you away

But when he starts to feel more empty, he owns up to his feelings and decides to change that

Brook

You would listen to his music

Listen, not just let it play the background

You always had this look of wonder in your eyes as you watched him

After getting to know him (which started by asking him how he learned so many instruments)

He likes the way you laughed and smiled, and… just do anything

He would start blushing when you would come up to him and talk. When he would see you across the room. When he would think about you… all the time

The crew started to notice but brushed it off as him being flattered by you being interested in his music

But when you guys weren’t doing something music-related, the two of you can be seen drinking tea or watching the ocean

He’s pretty self-aware, but he wants to deny it for a little while

But once the crew notices (due to his non-existent eyes following you) they push him to go after it. He’s been lonely for so long, it seems kinda weird for him

He also feels bad for liking you, since he’s dead and old

But he decided that you only live once, but in his instance twice

Jinbei

He was very suspicious of you

He didn't even want you to join. So he decided to keep an eye on you

That backfired

Because he started to notice how good you looked… doing everything. When he started asking you about yourself— boy he started sweating

He can’t get over how cute he thinks you are. Everything from how you look to how you act. The thumping of his heart can be heard by the fishes below

Cue the shifty eyes, twiddling thumbs, and flushed cheeks

He is honestly so cute. But of course, if anyone asks him what’s wrong, he’ll say he’s fine… sure

He tries to woo you by showing you his helmsman skills. If that doesn’t work he’ll tell you stories about Fishman island. If that doesn’t work… he’ll just listen to you and give his sage advice

The crew catches on quickly. He is just too obvious. That means incessant teasing from all of the members (excluding you)

Most of them find it ironic how he was telling Luffy it was a bad idea to let you on board, to think what it would be like to grab your hand with his webbed fingers

He’s self-aware, but he is also scared since he has never felt this way before

But after getting tired of the teasing, he decided he was gonna take you out for a swim… and whatever happens, happens (aka he’s preparing for a stuttering love confession)

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light-yaers · 3 years

Text

Fools in the Darkness: Chapter Two

Darkling x Reader

Warnings: Death, violence, drugs (Parem), NSFW and sexual content. This content is explicit and 18+ at some points.

A/N: Once again I am showing off how I have zero self control when it comes to creating stable fic uploads! I simply write another chapter and then upload it immediately. I’m so sorry when this will eventually start to die down, but for now let’s enjoy the start of the story, I guess? I’m astounded at the immense love this got! Thank you all so much!

Fic Masterpost

Word Count - 4k

Chapter Two

Inej returned with three glasses of whiskey. Kaz was sat opposite you at his desk, crow-headed cane secured in one of his leather gloved hands. Inej put the glasses on the desk, before picking up and handing one to you.

“Thank you,” You said politely. Despite the few weeks you’d had to acquaint yourself with the types of people that Ketterdam housed, Inej seemed different. She was a fighter, you could see that clearly, but she also seemed... soulful. Like she had a heart, bursting to the brim with kindness and care, despite the Wraith she had to become living in a place such as the Barrel.

“So, what, the Darkling took you in?” Kaz asked, impatience all over his voice. He grabbed his glass sternly, tapping the sides with his covered fingers.

“This is only the beginning of this story,” You replied.

“Well, get to it,” He said quickly.

“I told you it was a long story, Mr. Brekker. It’ll probably take us most of the night. Can your business wait that long?” You raised a brow at him knowingly. There were men such as Kaz in the Little Palace—impatient, to the point, needing answers immediately.

“Listen, Kaz,” Inej spoke up. “I have a feeling we’ve only skimmed the tip of the iceberg,”

You regarded Inej, taking in her petite frame, the glint of the knives on her body; you counted them quickly, efficiently, until you’d added up fourteen in total. Knives for days, and you’d wager a bet that she knew how to use each one to its full advantage, as if they were an extension of her body.

Kaz breathed out shallowly, shooting Inej a stare. She accepted it gracefully, not even flinching from the obvious tension that had begun to float between them.

“Your sister,” Kaz spoke, his eyes still on Inej, until he finally turned to you once more. He nodded once, sternly and quickly, but you got the message loud and clear—I’m sorry. You swallowed uncomfortably, thankful for the small comfort the tumbler of whiskey gave you as you gripped it in your hands.

“Right, where were we?”

The Little Palace, 1 Year Ago

You woke in a bright room, unrecognisable from where you’d been before—in the snow, the ice, shrouded in a darkness that the Darkling seemed to gravitate towards himself involuntarily. You looked at your hands as they shook; dirt was under your nails, dotted with dried and muddied blood—your sister was still on your very skin.

That’s when you shot up, your heartrate exploding suddenly. She wasn’t here, her body wasn’t on the floor at your feet, nor in the bed next to you. You were trapped inside four walls of creams and golds, with décor that you’d only dreamed of ever seeing.

It was unmistakable—you were in the Little Palace, the one place you’d begged the Darkling not to take you to. He’d done it anyway, after you passed out from your extreme exhaustion.

Now you started to panic, as you looked out of the grand windows of the room. A courtyard was down below, empty of people and carriages. It was still early morning by the sun placement; the palace was quiet. The Grisha lay sleeping in their rooms, the General was in his own—

You were alone.

And saints, you weren’t going to stick around. Not with your sister’s body still lying in the Fjerdan snow, waiting for wolves to find her.

You jumped out of bed, ignoring the way your muscles were screaming at you to return to the pristine sheets. Your feet were bare, and one glance at the floor showed you your shoes had been taken. What for, you didn’t know. Maybe they thought that would be enough to prevent you running.

You almost laughed, imagining the spoilt Grisha deciding to remove your boots—She won’t run with bare feet. She won’t. Little did they know, you’d run with bare feet before. And you’d easily do it again.

You tiptoed to the bedroom door, making as little noise as possible. At the last second, before your fingers curled around the handle, you decided to drop to the floor. You lay on your stomach, shoving your skull to the floor and shutting one eye—there were two feet shaped shadows under the door.

One guard, stood on watch.

This complicated things just a tad, but you were already hatching a plan by the time you stood up again. You gave yourself a few moments to stretch your poor limbs, feeling the adrenaline course through your blood and spur you forward. Without hesitation, you curled your fingers around the handle to your room, and yanked it open—

The guard whipped his hatted head around to you immediately, but he wasn’t quick enough to get into a defensive stance. You grabbed him by the collar, pulling him aggressively into your room, before you twisted him round and placed him in a headlock.

The two of you flopped to the floor, but that allowed you to secure his body to the ground with your legs, wrapping them around his torso so he couldn’t wind his way out of your grip. That’s when you tugged—hard against his windpipe.

He struggled and flailed like a freshly caught fish, but you knew it wouldn’t be long until he passed out and went jelloid. You kept your grip on him tightly, keeping him glued to the ground and his neck secure between your chest and forearm, being pulled taut by your other arm.

Eventually, he stopped fighting. His eyes fluttered closed slowly, his body slipped into a state of sleep.

You left him on the bedroom floor then, opting not to take his uniform in case he woke up while you did, and left the room. You clicked the door shut behind you, before beginning a tiptoed journey through the winding corridors of the Little Palace.

Saints, if you had the time, I’m sure you’d have appreciated the décor. It was splendid; all bright whites and creams with accents of shining gold. There were golden curls on blank white walls, intricate designs of Grisha imprinted in the wallpaper and grandiose windows that let the light flood inside.

You felt that, perhaps, the décor made up for the fact this was effectively an army base. The Grisha brought here were trained non-stop. They couldn’t leave, they didn’t have a choice. You’d heard horror stories of this place, back when you used to be safe in Novyi Zem.

“Zowa adawe,” Your neighbour had said. She was an old woman, living a quiet life on her farm. You called her Nana.

She was stern, but often times soft spoken, with her glorious Zemeni skin and gorgeous personality. When you’d found asylum after an unfortunate incident in Kerch, you and your sister had settled in her barn; parentless. She was kind, she ran the farm and let out the barn next door.

She became a grandmother figure immediately, up until the day she died.

Zowa adawe—Grisha fight. Grisha had to fight if they were sent to the Little Palace. There was no getting out it. Nana had said that your powers were beautiful, but she’d always said it with a hint of distain on her lips, as if you were running out of time.

You turned corridor after corridor, praying that no one would see you creeping around this early in the morning. All you had to do was get outside, and then you’d be able to run—run like Hell. Not stopping to look back or even worry if General Kirigan was on your tail. You’d outrun him, even if it killed you.

When you heard voices and footsteps, you flushed yourself against the corridor wall. You didn’t know where they were coming from, or who they were, but with the rags you were wearing the mud dotted over your skin, they’d know you weren’t supposed to be wandering around.

You held your breath, praying that they’d leave, that you’d get out of this fortress unscathed; and then you started moving again. The next corner you turned welcomed you into a large landing. A spiral staircase was before you to your left, only a few metres ahead of you. You lunged quickly, ducking down as not to be seen through the large windows out to the acres of land that surrounded the palace.

“You,” You stopped, swivelling round as your eyes laid upon two Grisha—one in a purple Kefta and one in white. The lady in white had yelled, but neither got into a defensive stance as you faltered backwards, constantly creeping back to the staircase as your heart threatened to bombard out of your chest. The lady in white shot her gaze down the staircase quickly, while the man in purple next to her all but looked confused.

That’s when her gaze tracked back to you once more, her jaw clenched. “Kirigan!” She boomed. You raised your hands quickly.

“Please—just—,” You pleaded in a whisper.

“Kirigan!” She yelled once more, and as the bash of doors sounded from down the stairs, you knew he’d heard loud and clear. The smack of boots ascended the spiral staircase, until the fresh face of General Kirigan hit your own. He slowed on the stairs, overseeing the commotion, before his expression softened.

He raised his hands calmly, widening his eyes in some kind of silent language, meant just for you.

“Now, just calm down,” He said calmly. You shot your gaze from the two Grisha at the end of the corridor, back to the General, before taking in your surroundings. You were blocked in from both ways; there were no doorways on your side of the grand landing.

But, there was an empty corridor, dotted with closed doors, and at the end—

A window.

It was as if Kirigan could sense the cogs in your brain whirring. As soon as your eyes lay on the window at the end of the free corridor, he began bounding up the steps. “No!” He yelled, reaching out for the flowing fabric of your blouse, but you were already running.

You pumped your arms and moved your legs as quickly as you could, storming towards the window at full pelt. Your heart was in your throat, your limbs screaming for relief, but all you could think of was your sister—alone, cold, left in the snow in a land that had never been kind to her.

That’s when you jumped, flying with all of the momentum you’d charged up from the run up, crashing straight through the window with all of your force. You ignored the sting of shattered glass as it ripped through your clothes and skin, the pain of the wood panelling breaking apart as your body slammed through the window—

And then you were falling, falling, falling—but you never hit the ground.

You brought your hands together with your eyes clamped shut, mustering your remaining energy into creating a cushion of wind to land on. It circled beneath you, spiralling around your body and stopping your free fall comfortably, until you balled your fists and the winds dissipated.

You landed in a large courtyard outside, shaking shards of glass out of your hair as you stood. You dared to look back at the mess you’d made, staring up at the broken window—

Kirigan stood above you, gazing down at you eerily.

You thought he’d be more frantic at the fact you’d just smashed through a window and were still standing. You thought he’d be rushing to get you back inside, but he wasn’t. He was calm and collected, looking at you as if he’d already worked you out completely. And that was the scariest part of this entire ordeal.

You broke into a run, not looking back as you pumped forward. You could feel his stare on your back the entire time, but you chose to ignore it—even if it all felt too easy.

Before you could make it to the tree line, you started to wane. Your limbs felt like lead, your heart felt like a bowling ball in your chest, and all of a sudden it was far too difficult to suck air into your lungs.

You collapsed to your knees, clutching at your chest as you glanced around the clearing. Before your vision began to blur, the unmistakable colour of red hit you. Red and black, with hands dancing before them. A Grisha—a Heartrender.

You struggled against the obvious magic that he was using upon you to slow your heartrate, to stop your muscles working properly. That’s when a blob of black strolled up beside the Grisha, placing his arm upon his Heartrender.

“Enough, Ivan,” Kirigan said, but you could hardly hear him.

“Heartrender...” You stuttered out, as Kirigan began to approach you slowly. “Playing dirty,” You said, as the rest of you collapsed to the floor. The sky above you circled sickeningly, your vision seeing double. Kirigan stepped above you, his face distorted as you fought against the power of Ivan.

“You’ll soon learn that I’m not the enemy here,” He said softly, as he descended to one knee. He slipped his arms beneath you, before rising. You were cradled in his arms, to incapacitated to fight against him.

“Darkling,” You muttered. You would have added more, but even talking was too much to handle.

General Kirigan carried you back inside, as the doors of the palace were bolted shut by his Heartrender. There was nothing you could do—you were powerless, and you were stuck.

You didn’t fall asleep, but everything felt like a dream. The walk back inside, being carried to a room that wasn’t the one you awoke in, feeling the strength of Kirigan’s arms holding you up without as much as a grunt of exertion.

Kirigan gently dropped you into a large armchair, letting your head fall back against plush leather. He straightened himself, going to sit in a chair opposite you. He picked up a small bell from the table between you, ringing it once, before putting it back down and leaning back in his own chair.

You blinked away the double vision, trying to gain back your composure.

“It’ll ease. Ivan slowed your heart into a death state,” Kirigan said calmly. You were getting annoyed at the way his voice filled the air around you, floated into your ears smoothly. You didn’t want to listen. “That was quite a show,”

You think you scoffed, or maybe you tried too, because the corners of Kirigan’s mouth upturned ever so slightly.

“I told you not to bring me here,” Your words were slurred, almost as if you were drunk. You fought against the want to drift into a sleep, but he was right—it was easing with every passing minute.

“You never told me why,” He replied. You forced yourself to look at him, as your eyes adjusted. There weren’t two of him anymore; just one man. One man who’d dragged you here against your will, leaving your sister alone on Fjerdan soil.

“You left my sister there to rot,” You said, stronger this time. “How could you think I’d stay here when you left her?” Kirigan’s expression didn’t change, but he did look around when someone entered the room, carrying a pot of tea with two cups and saucers. The tray was placed on the table silently, before the attendant left immediately, clicking the door shut.

Kirigan poured two cups of tea, pushing one set towards you and taking one for himself. He didn’t take a sip yet.

“What do you have against the Little Palace?” He asked. You couldn’t help your scowl from devouring your entire face.

“The King hoards Grisha here like he owns them, like they owe him something. It’s a prison disguised as a lavish life. It’s no worse than the whore houses in Ketterdam,” You replied bluntly.

“Yet you were trying to get to Ravka, weren’t you?” Kirigan was quick to the mark, leaving nothing unturned.

“For my sister,” You said, clenching your jaw. “She’d be safe with the First Army,”

“And you?”

You finally looked in his eyes. They were dark, piercing your very skin, but the way they reflected the light gave them the illusion of warmth. You didn’t want to ever admit that the Darkling was a warm individual, not from the stories of his bloodline that you were taught from a young age.

“I was going to lie and stay with her. My abilities have never offered me much,” You said honestly, but you didn’t know why you were being truthful with this man. You swallowed uncomfortably, telling yourself to stop being so open.

“You killed those druskelle. You protected yourself,” He said. He was right, but you felt sick to your stomach. You saved yourself, but you couldn’t save her. You didn’t. “Your power is unrefined, unpredictable, but strong. I’ve never seen a Squaller summon a storm such as what we saw from the Ravkan border. It’s what lead us to you,”

The General finally took a sip of his tea, daintily rising the cup to his lips, before setting it down slowly on the saucer. You glanced at your own cup, wanting to take a sip too, but you couldn’t make yourself reach for it; not yet.

“We train Grisha here for the King, you’re right,” He continued, when you kept your mouth clamped shut. “But we also allow them to refine their abilities and hone their craft. This is a safe place for Grisha, when there are many out there who would try and take advantage of such power,”

“I never asked for this power,” You said quickly.

“No. But you can control it,” He replied, stronger this time. He had a smile on his face, leaning slightly forward, as if he truly wanted you to know why the Little Palace was good. “Wouldn’t you feel better? If you could truly harness your power? Bend it to your exact will?”

You swallowed once, frowning as you looked in his eyes. You wanted to say that you didn’t trust him—and never would. You wanted to splash scolding tea across his treacherous face, but you did neither.

“I’d feel better if I’d buried my sister, before you gave me a life sentence,”

Kirigan stood then, turning his back to you to stand before the window behind him. His hands were together behind his back, his chin high and shoulders broad. He wore all black, but you’d expect nothing different from a man who went by the Darkling.

He thought in depth, calmly, quietly, while you debated having some of your tea. It was steaming and warm and calling out to you. You knew it wasn’t poisoned because he’d already taken a sip, but you were still wary.

“How about a proposal?” He said then, turning back to look at you. You scoffed.

“I’d rather marry a horse than you,” You let out. It was an obvious joke, but you hadn’t expected the words to spill from your lips. Kirigan raised his brows, almost boyishly, taking you by surprise.

“We have fine horses here, I’m sure we could find you a great husband,” He hit back with. Saints forbid, he’d joked back. You hated to admit it, but your shoulders relaxed then, as a small giggle burst from within your gut. He came to sit opposite you once more, taking another sip of tea.

This time, you mimicked him. You picked up your own cup, bringing it to your lips and sipping heartily. Warm tea cascaded down your throat, bringing more strength back to your muscles.

“You train here,” Kirigan began. “You train here and learn to fully control your powerful Squaller abilities, with the help of myself,” You frowned slightly as he mentioned himself, but nevertheless let him continue. “And then, when you’re ready, I’ll... let you slip out undetected,”

That’s when you choked on your tea. You placed the cup back down on the saucer messily, spilling tea on his table.

“You’d let me out?” You stuttered. “No. No fucking way would you let that happen. I know the stories, General. The stoic man, damaged by his bloodline and his image,” As you spoke, Kirigan’s jaw tensed. “You wouldn’t let a Grisha slip out of your ranks,”

He cleared his throat slightly, straightening his shoulders. “I will, if it means you’ll let me train you first,”

You furrowed your brows at him, the cogs in your brain whirring. “Why are you so interested in my abilities? I’m no Sun Summoner, General. I can’t destroy the Fold—,”

“This isn’t about the Fold,” He interrupted you. “This is about you,” He said it with such surety that it almost took your breath away. You were silent, pondering what to say from your rapidly firing thoughts. “Squallers are never as powerful as you have proven to be,” He leaned forward on the dark wood table, coming in close to you. You were too frozen in place to move, too stubborn to back away from him. “I want to see what else you can do, with the right training,”

You stood abruptly, after he’d finished talking. You ignored the disastrous way you looked, with shards of glass still in your hair and small scratches all over your bare skin. Your feet were bad; you could tell just from the way your soles felt; but you pushed through.

“This is a deal,” You said strongly. “A proper deal—a vow,”

Kirigan stood then, too, strolling round until he was face to face with you.

“I’m a man of my word,” He said plainly, before he stuck out a strong hand. You stared at his wrist, his fingers, before slipping your own hand into his. You both shook on it, cementing the deal that he’d offered. If you felt he was lying at any moment, you wouldn’t hesitate to break out of the Little Palace and slip through his fingers.

“Fine,” You said, pulling your hand from his grasp. He looked down at you with an air of knowledge, but his eyes showed you something else; a softness, excitement, sadness. It was so intense that you simply had to look away.

“Your sister,” He said then, causing you to flinch as you scowled back at him. “Men have already been sent to the border to collect her,” He said it so plainly that you were sure he was making it up, but your heart panged as he kept talking. “They’ll bring her here in two days’ time. She will have a proper burial,”

You could have cried, if your body wasn’t on fire. You would have screamed and sobbed if you weren’t stood in front of someone such as General Kirigan. In this world, crying was always a weakness. Emotions were meant to be felt in private. Pain was only to be felt behind closed doors. You wouldn’t give up that ingrained way of life so quickly, as much as you wanted to collapse on the floor when you thought of your sister.

You tried to find the words to say something in response to General Kirigan, but nothing came out. All you could muster was a curt nod, to which he reciprocated with his own.

“Rest. Eat. Drink. You have today to recuperate,” He said sternly.

“Before the Grisha here eat me alive,” You whispered. Kirigan let out the smallest huff.

“Show them your power, and they’ll leave you be,” He said, before his hand curled around your forearm tightly. You gasped at his touch, expecting it to be cold, dark, hostile—but he was just a man. He was just... a fucking man.

With eyes and a nose and a mouth. With shining hair and stubble and broad shoulders. With hips that dipped to his thighs and knees that met his calves.

It was scary, to say the least. You knew what this man was capable of. You knew what he could do, but instead he promised you freedom. He promised to train you, to bury your sister, to keep you safe here while he could.

But that didn’t mean you trusted him. That didn’t mean you weren’t wary—

If only you’d stayed this on edge, this untrusting. Maybe things would have been different.

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the-broken-truth · 3 years

Note

Can I request i male reader who treats all of the lords and mother mranda like his own kids cause of his animal instincts? 🙍‍♂️🐾

(You can choose the sifter)

Broken (Chuckles): Hello, @imanewboi99 - back again to spoil me with delicious scenarios, are you? (Reads ask) A Shifter that treats The Lords & Mother Miranda like his children? Hm...I can imagine the Lords but the Lords see Mother Miranda as their mother...I'll make him Miranda's Lover - Hopefully that is good for you, my friend. As for Shifter Form... I'll make him a Caracal Cat; I like their ears and they have stubby little tails, plus cats are one of the animals I think will take in another animal's infant as their own. Now, let the words weave together!

Note: The Reader will be known as [Father].

🦇 [Alcina Dimitrescu] 🦇

When Alcina met [Father] during the Lord Meeting, she didn't like him for the simple fact he was a man but she was curious of the large feline ears he had in replacement for his human ears & they weren't just for show - he made that clear when Karl called Alcina 'Lady Super-Sized Bitch' during a Lord Meeting, causing the tall buff man to walk over to the 4th Lord and glare down at him.

His Response: "You will not refer to another Lord, your sister, and my daughter as a 'bitch' in my presence or the presence of your mother and siblings again, Karl Heisenberg or I show you the power I hold in a way you will not be fond of. Now, apologize to Alcina this minute."

When Karl didn't move fast enough, [Father] grabbed the German by his trench coat and held him high (Keep in mind that [Father] is around the same height as Alcina) with a glare on his face and snarl in his voice, "I SAID 'APOLOGIZE', YOU UNGRATEFUL BOY!'; Karl wheezed out an apology before the man placed in back on the pew, "And never...disrespect anyone of my children again, I wouldn't let any of them do it to you, Son." then he went to sit.

As time went on, [Father] would come to Castle Dimitrescu and repair any kind of structural damaging or ask Alcina if she needed anything to be delivered to the castle.

Alcina would say, "Father, you don't need to worry yourself with these petty issues."

But he would say, "As your father, I don't want my eldest daughter and granddaughters to be without. Please, let me be a good father and grandfather to you and my granddaughters, Alcina."

Alcina was touched and handed him a list of things she needed to be taken care of that no one else would do or couldn't do. Everything was done within a few hours.

When it comes to the daughters, [Father] loves them as a man would love his biological grandchildren.

He would come to the castle with gifts: A new book collection for Bela, Gadgets of Torment for Cassandra, or a new weapon for Daniela.

If the daughters were bored and had nothing to do, [Father] would turn into his Feline Form and let the daughters hunt him, but he was rather fast & which made the daughters have fun with the chase.

[Father] has a manor that is around the same size as Heisenberg's Factory and the daughters love to visit because the large man spoils them too much.

They would go every single weekend but one day, Alcina told them that they didn't need to go everything single weekend and to give [Father] some space. The daughters didn't like that and called their grandfather to complain and waited around the corner when Alcina received a call from [Father].

"Father, all I said was they don't need to be over there all of the time," Alcina explained.

"Alcina, don't say anything to me; you are lucky that I am 5 whiskey glasses in, otherwise I would come to get them myself. Call the carriage and bring me my granddaughters." He hung up after that.

Not wanting to disappoint her Father Figure, she called the carriage and delivered the daughters and she was given a case of fine wines to relax with while they were with him.

She may hate men - but [Father] was the only man-thing she would admit to caring about. Mother Miranda picked well.

🎎 [Donna Beneviento + Angie] 🎎

[Father] knew that Donna was timid & Angie was her way of communication - he didn't want to frighten her thus began their relationship with phone calls.

For the most time, he spoke to Angie and each conversation would with [Father] asking if Donna or Angie needed anything; yes, he considered Angie another person and not just a doll.

On the occasion that they did need something, he would go purchase what they needed and let it on the porch of Beneviento Manor, knocked on the door, and stepped away; he knew that Donna was scared of his height.

One day, he was delivering some Doll Parts Donna asked for, he did his normal routine and was about to leave when Angie called out and asked if he wanted to come in for tea. He accepted.

He shrunk himself to be a more acceptable height for Donna and the three of them had tea and conversation.

Donna became more adjusted to his presence and would call him herself - without Angie - and ask if they would have tea, make dolls together, or work in the garden together.

One day, he came with an eyepatch with the Crest of House Beneviento stitched into it as a way to cover the scar but not her whole face.

At the next meeting, she wore it.

Salvatore complimented her on it and she said 'Father made it for me.'

He smiled.

🐟 [Salvatore Moreau] 🐟

Salvatore was curious about [Father] but was too nervous to talk to him - thinking he was going to be mean or make fun of him his appearance. Imagine his surprise when [Father] wanted up to him and smiled before saying, 'Hello, Salvatore. It's nice to meet you, son.".

Salvatore looked at him with wide eyes - he thought of Salvatore as a son? He didn't make fun of him?

Salvatore and [Father] would talk whenever they saw each other at the Lord Meetings but one day, [Father] asked to spend a day with his son because he never got to learn about him.

Salvatore was nervous but agreed.

When [Father] arrived at Salvatore's Territory, he was displeased that his son was living in such poor conditions and he vowed to do something about it and his son's vomiting.

The two of them spent hours watching movies together and eating cheese & fish while Salvatore told [Father] everything about him.

One day, Salvatore was surprised to see his father building a new house on steady ground and told Salvatore that it was his new home because he was not gonna let his Lord and Son live in poor conditions like that. Salvatore was also informed that there was a new collection of movies for the two of them to enjoy.

They have movie nights every Wednesday and Sunday.

As for Salvatore's vomiting, [Father] was able to make an elixir that prevents vomiting but Sal has to drink it every month. It's bitter but he will do it regardless.

🛠 [Karl Heisenberg] 🛠

[Father] knew that Karl was still cross with him for embarrassing him before Mother Miranda and the Other Lords & no real father would want his son to be angry with him at every family get-together.

[Father] went to Karl's Factory with an apology but when he went inside, he saw his son running from a strange contraption with a large drill arm.

His Paternal Instincts kicked in and he charged at the creature, crushing its head in his hand before turning to his son to make sure he was alright.

Karl was angry to see him at first but he did thank him for saving his life before that thing turned him into a pin-cushion. He then asked [Father] what he was doing in his factory and the taller man said he didn't want any bad blood between the two of them and offered his services to his son.

Karl wasn't interested and first but he then realized that he could use [Father] to get inside information on Miranda so he agreed.

The two of them worked on projects, blueprints, or repairs for hours, enjoying each other conversation and presence.

[Father] asked the 4th Lord to be kinder to the other lords - he hated seeing his family argue and be bitter with each other.

Karl - while he never saw the others as his family - agreed to this for the sake of the only one he really respected and cared for.

Karl was still planning on making Miranda suffer for what she had done to him and the others...but...Did [Father] really deserve it?

This man - he had a heart of gold - but it was clear he suffered as well and this 'family' was the only thing that kept him together, kept him happy - Karl didn't want him to be unhappy.

What would destroying Miranda and this 'family' do to [Father]? Karl wondered but at the same time, he didn't want to know. This man was a father to him...what was he supposed to do?

🧪 [Mother Miranda + The Lords As A Whole] 🧪

Miranda would wake up to the smell of [Father]'s cooking and coffee every morning - he refused to let her start the daily research without a good meal and coffee, and she didn't object to this - the man made some delicious food.

One day - Miranda went to the meeting grounds and found the man cleaning, fixing pillars, and making individual thrones for the Lords, Mother Miranda, and himself. Reason: "My wife and children are not sitting on old ass furniture and possibly getting sick."

The Lords love their thrones - he even made one for Angie.

When an argument - mostly between Alcina and Karl - broke out, [Father] would roar for them to shut up and respect the Mother of All and each other.

"You are my children - not savages - and you will act like it or I shall show you how savages were treated where I came from!"

It would take Miranda's gentle hand to calm him when the children acted out of line.

When it came to the Cadou Experiments - [Father] would aid Miranda or his children without a second thought. Whatever they needed, he would get for them.

[Father] would try to have a family dinner with everyone at his manor once a week, just so the family could all be together.

As much as Miranda didn't want to admit it - she loved the dinners; it really felt as if she had a real family.

Maybe...when Eva was returned to her...they could be a family.

[End]

#Mother Miranda x Male Reader #Alcina Dimitrescu #Donna Beneviento #Salvatore Moreau #Karl Heisenberg #Resident Evil 8 #headcanon

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helpistolethesecharacters · 3 years

Text

Hot Chocolate and Chill

Peter Parker x Male Reader

Word Count: 1644

This is pure fluff you guys! Thank you so much to the person who requested this, I need more fluff in my life and this is working toward that!

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

Y/n was certain he had never been more excited before. He couldn't stop himself from literally bouncing up and down as he made his way out of his last class of the day and toward his locker.

His friends just rolled their eyes and got out of the way. Y/n thought about feeling bad or trying to calm down, but then he would remember all over again that it was tonight.

He had been counting down all week to the time that he would be able to spend uninterrupted time with his boyfriend.

Peter had invited him for a sleepover after classes Friday, which, when he had suggested it on Monday had seemed like an eternity away.

But it was Friday and he had just been released from his last class. Nothing was going to stop him from being alone with Peter, and Y/n couldn't be happier.

He slammed the things he wouldn't need that weekend into his locker, slung his bag over one shoulder and took off in search of Peter, totally blanking on the need to close and lock his locker.

In the back of his mind he registered the long suffering sighs of his friends, but he was on a mission. There was no time to calm down, he had a boyfriend to track down.

It didn't take long, as he was still standing by his own locker talking to Ned. Y/n didn't stop to think, he just bounced over and launched himself at Peter.

Peter stumbled back a step as Y/n collided with him, but managed to keep them both standing. Y/n silently thanked the spider that had bitten Peter for the results as he none too subtly appreciated the muscles holding him up.

"Hi Y/n," came the resigned sigh from Peter's friend Ned.

"Yes, Tis I, The Amazing Y/n, come to light up your lives."

Okay, so he was feeling a little extra right now, sue him.

"You may now revel."

Peter and Ned lost it, which was the end of holding Y/n up. He pouted from his new spot beside Peter and waited for the two to stop laughing at him.

His pout gave way to the dopey grin that usually crept up on his face whenever he was looking at Peter for longer than a second. There was just something about his adorable dork of a boyfriend that made Y/n feel like he was floating.

Y/n subtly snuck his hand into Peter's while he waited for the other two to say their goodbyes. Luckily Peter was used to Y/n's actions and didn't startle even when he decided to hang over his shoulder.

"That's so gay!"

'Ugh, this guy,' thought Y/n as he turned to face Flash.

"You know, that isn't even an insult. We are in fact gay. Or I am at any rate, Pete's pan, right?"

Peter just nodded from beside Y/n.

Flash looked nonplussed.

"What? So you admit it, you really are gay? Ew!"

"You sure are stupid for someone who's supposed to be smart. That's like me saying, 'Oh, my God! You're such a person!'"

Y/n even affected an over the top pose to add to his effect.

"Ew, you're a person! That's so gross!"

Flash just looked confused at this point, which to be fair, that was a common response to people who weren't used to being near Y/n's particular brand of crazy, but still.

Y/n was going to go ahead and call that one a win. He and Peter turned away and ignored the bully.

Peter just looked at Y/n in shock as he heard Flash sputtering and stomping off behind them.

"That was amazing! I have to remember that for next time!"

Y/n grinned at his boyfriend, eternally grateful to which ever deity it was that had paired him up with someone who wasn't put off by his over the top personality like others had been.

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

May was watching from her place by the table in their kitchenette, bemused as Peter straightened one of the pillows on the couch for the tenth time in the last two minutes. He had been quietly freaking out for the better part of an hour now, and that was only the time he had been out in the main living areas. She was sure he had been freaking out in his room for much longer.

"I'm pretty sure he won't hold it against you if the pillow isn't in the exact right spot when he gets here."

May immediately regretted speaking when Peter's head shot up and he stared at her with the widest eyes possible. Oh, this was more than just normal anxiety. This was much more important than normal to him.

May unfolded herself and made her way over to her nephew.

"It's going to go just fine, you two are so happy together, I can't imagine anything causing a single night together to go wrong."

She held Peter close to her for as long as he would allow. He was growing up more and more every day, and didn't let her comfort him near as much as he used to, so she was going to savor this for as long as possible.

May felt Peter melt into the hug and was glad that at least she could still provide a little support, even if she couldn't fight every dragon for him anymore.

The door bell rang, startling them out of their hug, and Peter managed to trip over twice in his rush to get to the door as fast as possible.

May just shook her head at the thought of ever being so young and clearly in love.

She took her place by the table again after greeting Y/n. She had a cup of tea and a book calling her name.

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

Y/n looked around the living area of Peter's apartment, why he didn't know. It wasn't like it was his first time there after all, he had visited lots of times before. This time felt different for some reason though.

"Did you want something to drink?"

'Poor Peter,' Y/n thought, 'He looks just as nervous as I felt earlier.'

"I brought snacks and the makings for hot chocolate for our movie marathon. I can set up here while you sort out the drinks? Or are we watching in your room?"

Y/n handed over the bag that had the drink things in it and was pointed to the couch.

"Thank goodness you didn't have to patrol tonight. Are you sure it's okay to take the whole night off?"

"Yeah, I got someone to cover for me."

Y/n nodded and set about organising the snacks.

It didn't take them long to get settled with the assortment of snacks on the coffee table in front of them, their drinks close by and a movie playing on the TV.

It was a little awkward with neither of them wanting to step over any boundaries, especially with Peter's aunt sitting up at the table, but some time during the first movie they managed to relax enough to lean against each other.

By the time that the second movie was half finished Y/n was laying with his head on Peter's lap, no longer paying any attention to the movie because Peter was giving him the most amazing head massage and running his hands through Y/n's hair.

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

May made her way into the lounge area on her way out for her shift, but stopped at the sight that met her.

Peter and Y/n were curled up together on the couch fast asleep. She melted and tried not to coo too hard as she fished out her phone.

This called for proof, whether to blackmail or embarrass was still up for grabs.

As she closed the door and locked it from the outside, May was once again thankful that Peter wasn't the type to take advantage of being alone with someone he liked, so she didn't have to worry about them getting up to things they might not be ready for.

-----------

Bonus Scene

-----------

Mrs Rodrigez had been walking back from her daily walk down to the corner shop. She would never let on, but half the reason she made the time to come down each day was to see the sweet young man who always insisted on helping her cross the street.

She was surprised, and a little suspicious of the person who approached her that particular evening at the cross walk. Whoever they were, they were not her 'friendly neighbourhood spiderman' as he always insisted he was.

This man was wearing what appeared to be hardened red leather in an all over suit. He was also a lot older than her normal escort judging by his height and broad shoulders.

He had a very bad homemade cosplay mask of spiderman over what looked like another mask.

The man (she assumed) got close enough for her to read the words scrawled hastily across his chest in a messy hand.

'Spiderman! No really!'

Mrs Rodrigez fixed the man with a steely stare. She was 78, and like all older ladies, carried a large handbag that was filled with mostly useless junk that was just begging to be swung at him if he pulled anything she didn't like.

He had already gotten higher on her 'list' by pretending to be the younger vigilante. He was on thin ice as far as she was concerned.

"Hi! I can't help but notice that you are a helpless little old lady possibly in need of assistance across the street!"

The man offered her an arm, but was met with that steely stare being upped to an outright glare as she pulled him in close enough by that very same arm, to be nose to nose.

"If you've done anything to that sweet young man they will never find your body!"

#peter parker x male!reader #peter parker x male reader #Peter parker #male reader

204 notes · View notes

watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

Dead Or Alive - Harry Styles

a/n: oof okay hello! this is a little different, i guess? but im very excited to share this with you! don’t ask me how i got the idea for this, no clue but it was stuck in my head for days before i finally gave in and started writing it. please share your thoughts and comments on it, i would love to read them!! hope you’ll enjoy it!

pairing: Wanted!Harry x BountyHunter!Reader

warning: violence, talks of drugs, murder, guns, i really lost track of it lol

word count: 15.2k

masterlist

The man in the handcuffs growls in pain again, but you just yank him forward, not in the mood to deal with a whining girl trapped in a six feet tall disgusting looking, oily-faced bald man in his forties.

“Y/N! What do we got today?” Jeremy greets you at the front desk, thumbs hooked into his belt as he watches you tug the guy into the hall of the station, pushing him down to the nearest seat as you step to Jeremy who is already handing you the paperwork.

“Dennis Delgado. Took me a few days to find him, but he couldn’t hide forever,” you grin proudly as you grab a pen and start filling the papers out.

Jeremy walks over to Dennis who just looks up at the officer in disgust. It’s not enough that he is a child molester disgusting prick, he is racist on top of everything and now Jeremy is enjoying having the higher ground, Dennis trapped in his handcuffs while Jeremy will be the one to get him behind bars for a long time.

“Nice one. We’ll have a lot of fun with this one,” Jeremy chuckles. “Want me to ring up your brother?”

“Is he in? Would love to have a word with him,” you nod smiling. When you’re done with the papers you hand them over to Stella, the receptionist who gets to work with them right away so you can get your money.

“Sure, I’ll get him for you on my way,” Jeremy nods, grabbing Dennis by his arm, pulling him along on his way to the elevators. “Come on you scumbag, you have a cell waiting with your name on it.”

The two of them disappear and you get into a little chit-chat with Stella while she is finishing up the paperwork. Leaning against the counter you look around, officers come and go in the hall, all of them dressed in their uniform and for a moment you picture yourself wearing the same outfit. At one point in your life it seemed to be part of your future, but now it would be the most ridiculous sight. Y/N, the best bounty hunter in the region in a police uniform? That’s not happening.

The elevator dings and your brother, Robert walks out. He on the other hand, made this vision happen. He has been an officer for about ten years now and though at first he was outraged that you chose the not so gracious lifestyle of a bounty hunter, but you soon became his unofficial partner, handing him over a wanted person every few days, making his work easier. Everyone at the station knows that Robert is the one who plays by the rules, doing everything according to the handbook, the perfect officer, always working to keep up the peace in town while you are… Well, you are a rebel. You could never play by the rules, always sneaking ways to do things according to your desires. You never liked if someone wanted to tell you what to do and how to do it, you are not a team player or either one that can easily managed by higher forces. It didn’t take long for you to realize your nature will never let you be an officer so you chose the other path that’s somewhere near joining the police, but still playing by your own rules.

Being a female bounty hunter wasn’t the easiest when you started off at the young age of seventeen. In desperate need of the extra money after the tragic passing of both your parents, the two of you had to get along on Robert’s slim, beginner paycheck. He was only twenty-three, started working at the station just a year prior, you knew you had to help him out. He kept bringing up cases, worked on them through the nights and when he passed you on the couch from exhaustion, you sneaked your way into the dining room and looked for easy targets. Speeding tickets, light drug trafficking, whatever you could deal with as a high schooler.

Robert hated the idea of you dealing with wanted people, you had endless fights about it, but you were too stubborn to stop and besides, you liked the adrenaline rush you got whenever you caught another one and brought them back to the station. Loved the stunned and shocked looks on the older officers when you managed to catch a bigger fish. It took Robert a few years to come to peace with your choice of lifestyle and now he doesn’t even try to talk you down. Instead, he keeps bringing you cases that pay well and he knows you’d like them.

“Who did you catch this time?” he grins at you, walking up to you and he envelopes you in a short hug.

“Just got Dennis Delgado, Jeremy took him.”

“Poor Dennis, he’ll have a rough evening,” Robert chuckles. “Did you get your money?”

“Stella is already working on it,” you nod towards the lady behind you.

“Oh, I’ve got you, Sweetheart,” Stella pushes herself back from her desk and walks over to you with an envelope filled with your reward.

“Amazing, thank you, Stella,” you grin at her happily. Dennis was worth a little more than the usual, you are well covered for the rest of the month thanks to him.

“Do you have something coming next?” Robert asks, hands on his hips as he watches you put the money away into your backpack.

“Not yet. Got something exciting for me?”

“An old friend,” he nods with a small smile. He reaches behind the counter and grabs a flyer, handing it over to you, a familiar face staring back at you from the photo this time.

Harry Styles is a name you’ve heard plenty of times and you know him well by now. You actually went to high school with him, you were just never in the same group. He was labeled as troubled all through his teenage years, his parents were brutally killed when he was just a kid, he was tossed around from one foster family to the other, moving around town every few months. It was no surprised when he got into some darker circles, he almost got kicked out of school right before graduation but somehow managed to stick around to get his diploma at the end.

You have actually handed him in a few times before. Never for anything bigger than drug trafficking or robbing smaller shops downtown, Harry is actually not as bad as people tend to portray him to be, he was just not blessed with the best background as most people. He is a smart guy and would never hurt anyone for real, this is why you are now staring down at his flyer shocked.

He is wanted for the murder of a local man who was found dead a few days ago in his home, Harry’s hair was found near the body with no other evidence.

“Are you sure about this?” you ask Robert with a concerned look. This doesn’t feel right. Not that you know Harry that well, but it’s very unlike him.

“Very much. His hair was the only thing we found near the body of Dave RIchards so evidently, he is our number one suspect.”

“I don’t know, this doesn’t sound right,” you think to yourself, staring down at the mug shot of him that was taken the last time you brought him in for selling weed to underage kids. You remember it exactly, because bringing Harry in is always… fun, if you could say that.

That last time, he was already expecting you, waiting around in his usual motel room that is somewhat considered as his home.

“My Y/N! You arrived earlier than I expected!” he greeted you when you kicked his door in. He was sitting in the middle of the double bed, rolling a joint as always, not a care in the world about your arrival.

“You knew I was coming?” you cocked your head to the side walking in and stopping at the end of the bed, watching him finish the joint and simply light it before taking a big puff.

“Of course. I was informed I’m on your list again, just thought you’d give me a few more hours, but it’s alright.” He waved around carelessly before holding out the joint in your way, offering you to try it.

“No thanks, I don’t trust your sketchy stuff.”

“That hurt!” he gasped dramatically, placing a hand to his tattooed chest that was partially on display since his shirts are never buttoned all the way up.

You brought him in that day, stopping for McDonald’s on your way to the station before handing him over to Robert. He was actually a great guy, nice sense of humor and good looks, you never thought otherwise, he was just moving around in different circles than you so you were left with the few jokes he always cracked when you took him in every few months.

“Well, it’s not your job to question his innocence. Want to take the job or not?” Robert asks you.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll find him,” you nod and fold the flyer, sliding it into your back pocket.

Normally, you take the rest of the day for yourself after turning someone in, but this situation with Harry just bugs you way more than to just go home and pretend like it’s not all you can think about. Harry is not a murderer, he would never randomly kill a man, he is not a psycho, just a guy with a rough background and some poor life decisions.

You know the route to the motel like the back of your hand. Arriving to the dodgy parking lot you park your car in the far end before taking one last look at the flyer. Then you push it into your backpack and get out, heading to Harry’s room with firm steps. You see no lights on, the door is closed and you almost don’t even get closer, thinking he is not here when you see someone move around inside.

You are almost at the door when a hand covers your mouth and an arm wraps around your body, pulling you back forcefully. It takes you a moment to recover from the shock as you are yanked backwards, but as you are being dragged towards the alleyway next to the motel you elbow your attacker in the stomach before kicking them in the knees. The hands fall from around you and turning around you pull out your pocket knife, ready to cut throats right away, but you are shocked to see Harry hunched over, groaning in pain as he holds his arm to his stomach.

“The fuck, Y/N?!” he growls, his chocolate curls falling forward, they’ve definitely gotten longer since the last time you saw him, he could easily put them up into a bun now. “What was that for?” he whispers in disbelief, his green eyes meeting yours in a scowl.

“What the fuck do you mean? You attacked me!”

“I didn’t attack you, I was trying to fucking save you!”

“From what?!”

“From the fucking asshole in my room who is four times bigger than you and would have probably shot you the moment you kicked my door in like you always fucking do!”

It’s just now processing in you that if Harry is here, the person you saw in the room can’t be him and he surely looked bulky. Harry runs his hand through his hair, straightening up from his hunched position before he sighs tiredly. He looks… worn-out, even more than he usually does. The dark circles under his eyes and beat-up knuckles are new, he usually looks fine despite everything that goes on in his life, but this is a version of him you haven’t seen. He has definitely been through some shit lately.

“What are you doin—“

“No time for questions now, we have to get out of here,” he cuts you off, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the alleyway to another parking lot on the other side of the motel. You spot his old jeep right away, but you yank your hand out of his hold, stopping in your tracks.

“Wait, my car is there!”

“We’ll come back for that later, but they can’t find you here with me or they’ll be after you as well,” he explains, grabbing your hand again as he pulls you towards the car and this time you follow him blindly.

You get into his jeep without even questioning it, not even caring that he is a man who is currently wanted for murder. Your instinct is telling you that you’re completely fine with him and you believe it. The two of you head out of town, taking the route to the next town nearby, but he takes a turn to the left, the jeep rolling onto a dirty road leading along fields filled with wildflowers. You have a guess where you’re going, there are some abandoned cabins near the woods that used to function as vacation homes, but they were slowly left to stand empty for eternity when a luxury resort was built on the other side of the woods.

“Care to tell me what the fuck just happened?” you ask him calmly, turning to look at him. He has one hand on the wheel, while his other elbow is resting on the armrest, fingers tapping on his chapped, pink lips.

“I’m in… deep shit, Y/N,” he admits with a sigh, eyes glued to the road ahead of him.

“No shit, you killed someone?”

“I didn’t,” he states, his eyes meeting yours for a moment to emphasize his truth. “It was a fucking set up and now they are after me every way possible.”

“Who is? And what did you do to get into so much trouble?”

“I’ll tell you about it when we arrive, okay?”

You sit in silence for the rest of the ride until you finally arrive to the cabins. You follow Harry inside one of them and it seems like he has set his base up here a few days ago. There’s a double bed with blankets thrown over it and a few mismatched pillows, a sports bag with his clothes and a few grocery bags on the dusty kitchen counter, candles everywhere since there’s probably no power in the cabin. You wonder how long he has been camping out here.

“About a week ago I got a visit from Hugo McKain, you’ve heard about him?” he asks as he grabs a bottled water from one of the grocery bags and fills up two plastic cups, handing you one of them.

“Sure. I’ve heard that… he is a big fish,” you nod.

“Yeah. He wanted me to work for him, but I sincerely rejected the offer, however it didn’t sit well with him. He threatened me that if I’m not selling his stuff, then I won’t sell anyone else’s stuff,” he explains, walking over to the bed and he sits at the edge, staring at the cup in his hands. “He gave me another day to change my mind, but I said that I don’t want to get involved with any of the heavy shit he deals with. I was hoping he would just willing to forget about it, but apparently, he is not the kind to just let shit go,” he chuckles bitterly. “A few days ago he sent two of his men after me, but I was able to run away. I was ready to pack my shit up and just leave the state forever, but then the fucking asshole framed me for the murder of that guy. A friend called me to let me know that I’m the only suspect in the case and that my face has been sent out already everywhere in the state. Hugo made it impossible for me to leave, I would be caught the moment I stop to pump fucking gas in my car,” he growls in annoyance. “So it’s a whole shit show, the police and Hugo are after me and I’m fucking stuck here.”

You stand there at a complete loss of words, because though you have no evidence if he is telling you the truth, you just know he is and the situation is fucking miserable. Harry drinks his water and throws the cup into a plastic bag that serves as a trashcan, his fingers running through his hair nervously.

“Do you know who killed the guy?” you speak up after some silence.

“Yeah, one of his men called Axel, he is a proper idiot, I’m actually surprised he didn’t leave his DNA back, just mine,” Harry scoffs.

“If you know they are after you, what were you doing at the motel?” you ask, leaning against the wall, curiously eyeing him as he glances up at you.

“Knew you’d come after me, didn’t want them to pull you into this mess too.”

Your eyebrows rise at his words. He went back because of you? Harry notices your surprise, a smug smirk tugging on his lips.

“What? Couldn’t let them lay a finger on my Y/N, right?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at him. He has always been so flirty with you since day one, always trying to pull your leg, chatting your ears off in hopes that he can finally drag you to bed one day. But you never give in, it all stays just some empty flirting and a playful banter.

“So what are you going to do now?” you ask clearing your throat. There’s just always been something in the way he calls you his Y/N that makes you a tad bit nervous.

“That’s an excellent question to which… I have no answer,” he truthfully admits.

“You can’t hide here forever.”

“You tryna’ lure me into going to the station with you?” he asks with a grin. “To be honest, I’m surprised you haven’t cuffed me yet. You love that stuff, don’t you?” Harry stands from the bed and strides over to you, the height difference between the two of you forcing you to tilt your head up a little as he smirks down at you, enjoying that he has successfully made you blush. “Question is, have you been the one in the cuffs?”

You part your lips with the intention of answering, but nothing comes out. Harry smirks down at you, so full of himself before stepping away.

“Anyway, I think I’m just gonna lay low here for a while and then hopefully I’ll be able to sneak out of town at one point.”

“You wanna stay here?” you ask looking around. The place is fine for just a few nomad days, but staying here for more seems impossible. There’s no electricity, probably no water, some of the windows are broken in, the temperature must drop drastically in the nights so close to the woods.

“Not that I have any other choices,” he huffs, opening a bag of chips from the groceries.

“Don’t you have any friends who can share their couch with you for a while?”

“You think anyone would want to hide a dude who is wanted for murder and who is also in trouble with Hugo McKain? Baby, even if any of my friends were willing to help, I wouldn’t take it. I wouldn’t want to pull them into my shit. Besides, Hugo is probably already keeping tabs of all my friends, he has the connections to know everything about me.”

“And what about me?” you suddenly ask. Harry freezes, eyes flickering at you in confusion.

“What about you?”

“Would he look for you at mine?”

Now it’s his turn to rock a stunned expression, eyebrows shooting up as he stares back at you. He wasn’t expecting it, but truth is neither did you. However it doesn’t take him long to turn it into something entirely sexual.

“You know, if you wanted to see me in your bed, you should have just asked.”

Luckily, you don’t fall under his spell this time. Rolling your eyes you put the cup to the nearest surface and head to the door.

“Alright, changed my mind. Have fun camping out here on your own,” you mumble, reaching for the doorknob, but he is quick to get between you and the door, stopping you from leaving.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I was just not expecting you to make that offer, alright?” You take a step back, folding your arms on your chest. “Were you serious about that?”

“It seemed like an option. I doubt you’d be expected to be at my place.”

“And you’d actually let me stay there?”

“I guess a few days wouldn’t hurt. Until you figure out what to do.”

Harry stares at you in awe, like you just did the best thing ever for him and the thought that he never had anyone to do such favor for him is kind of heartbreaking. He might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but there’s just something in him.

You help him pack his stuff back into the jeep, leaving the weathered cabin empty again before you head back to town. Harry drops you off a few blocks from the motel so you can walk back to your car, you glance at his door just once, it’s still closed but they could easily still be there.

Harry is already at your place when you arrive to your building, waiting around in his jeep, he has put a beanie and sunglasses on, keeping his head low. As he follows you up to your little apartment, you actually realize that Harry is about to move in with you for the upcoming days, he is going to live in your place, you’ll share your home with him. How crazy does that sound?

Unlocking the door you walk into your small apartment. It’s just the perfect size for one person, a decent kitchen with a small dining table, a living room that also functions as your study, your desk filled with folders and flyers from previous works. Then you have a little bedroom and a bathroom opening from the living room. It’s cozy and homey, but definitely not the setting you would have ever imagined Harry in.

“So, the couch is a pull out, I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow, make yourself… home I guess,” you tell him walking into your bedroom to get him everything he needs. However, he is following you into the room, already snooping around in your private little space.

As you grab him a blanket and pillow, you find him inspecting your clutters on top of your dresser, your jewelry, perfumes and makeup stuff is just thrown out there, and he seemingly takes an interest in your rings.

“Never seen you wear any jewelry,” he huffs as you walk up to him.

“Don’t like them on me that much,” you admit. “Here,” you give them the bedding and usher him out of the bedroom before he gets way too adventurous and starts digging into your lingerie drawers.

When the pullout is all set up and Harry has settled in a little, you are faced with the fact once again, that Harry is in your home and about to spend the upcoming days here with you, since he can’t really roam around the streets.

You make sandwiches for the two of you and sit at the small dining table, eating in silence until you speak up.

“I can ask my brother to help find the guy who did it. There has to be a way to get you out of this.”

Harry glances at you, chewing on his food before putting the sandwich down, swallowing the bite.

“Not really if they don’t find evidence.”

“I’m sure we’ll find something.”

“We?” he smirks at you playfully, earning a blush from you again. You hate the effect he has on you, he is clearly a good-looking guy, you always thought that, even in high school. Thanks to his troubled name, girls easily fall for his bad guy behavior, they just never really saw that being a so called bad guy wasn’t just about the looks, with a slightly similar background you could imagine how hard it really was for him. Though he never really let it show. He is always this whitty, cocky bastard who is ready to flirt his way into your pants whenever the opportunity is given.

“If you keep up with the teasing you’ll find yourself on the street one morning,” you warn him and he just holds his hands up with a smug grin.

“You are the boss lady here,” she chuckles softly before returning to his sandwich.

For the rest of the evening you bury yourself into some other work stuff, you always have a few smaller gigs going on that are easy money, Harry in the meanwhile makes himself comfortable on the couch, watching your tiny TV in silence, letting you do your thing. It’s nearing midnight when you wrap it up and head to have a quick shower. Standing under the hot water you take a few minutes to collect your thoughts and just simply try to get used to the thought that you are in fact hiding a man who is wanted for murder. It’s going to be some pretty interesting days you have ahead of you, that is for sure.

Putting on your oversized t-shirt and cotton shorts you leave a clean towel on the counter for Harry in case he doesn’t have one before heading out.

“Towel is on the counter. Sorry, I don’t have shower gel for men, but the soap is unscented so feel free to use,” you tell him walking out, only to find him already waiting around the door, leaning against the wall. His eyes fall down the length of your uncovered leg, a smirk tugging on his lips.

“If you’re the kind who sleeps naked, feel free to get rid of the textile.”

“Are you a naked sleeper?” you ask tilting your head to the side.

“I can be, if you want me to be,” he grins smugly and you just roll your eyes at him.

“Good night, Harry,” you sigh walking into your bedroom and shutting the door behind you, only allowing yourself to let out a shaky sigh when you are out of his sight. Leaning against the door you hear him shuffling around until the bathroom door closes and the water starts running. You try your best to ignore the thought of Harry currently in your shower naked as you climb to bed and pull the covers over your head. You need the coverage, hopefully it’ll help you with your wandering thoughts.

“Thought you’d deliver Styles by now,” Robert teases you when he meets you at the station the next day. You left Harry at your place, sincerely asking not to trash your home while you’re away and headed to the police station in hopes that your brother might be able to help him out.

“Uh, no. But actually, he is the reason why I’m here,” you tell him with a nervous chuckle.

“What? Did he hurt you or something?”

“No, nothing like that. Can we please talk in your office?” you ask and he nods, leading you up to his office.

Once the two of you are settled and secluded from the rest of the officers, you just decide to start right in the middle and not waste your time beating around the bush.

“Harry didn’t do it. He was framed.”

Robert gives you a surprised look as he leans back in his seat on the other side of his desk. He thinks about your words furrowing his eyebrows before scratching his neck.

“How… do you know that?”

“I just know. He is being framed by Hugo McKain, it was one of his men who killed the guy, not Harry.”

“I have a feeling that your source about this was none other than Harry himself.”

“Does it matter?”

“It does, because of course he would try to defend himself!”

“Harry is not a murderer, Robert,” you snap. “He always owns up to his mistakes and he would never do anything to hurt others. Yes, he is troubled and did a lot of illegal shit in his life, but never anything that could hurt others. He became a target because he didn’t want to join Hugo.”

Robert stares at you for a while, probably trying to figure out whether he should believe you or not. You knew he’d be skeptical, but you can only hope he trusts you enough to help you out in this one case.

“And what do you expect me to do?” he asks after a while.

“He knows the name of the guy. Axel something, can you get someone on his case? Look into the evidence more? Something might come up that could help Harry out of this mess.”

Robert’s jaw clenches as he stares back at you, contemplating his choices but something is telling you he is already in. You won him over.

“I’ll have Jake look into it, I think I know who this Axel guy is.”

“Thank you, Robert!” you cheer in excitement. Jumping from your seat you go around his desk and hug him from behind, kissing his cheek as he tries to escape your embrace. He hates it when you get all affectionate at his work, but you just had to. You head to the door to get out of his hair before he changes his mind, but he stops you before you could leave.

“Y/N, just please be careful with Styles, okay?”

“He is not as bad as people make him sound.”

“I just don’t want him to get you into trouble. There’s only so much I can do to save your ass.” “Don’t worry,” you smile at him softly. “I’ll be alright.”

The rest of the day goes by with catching some stupid guy who was wanted for trying to rob a gas station while drunk, it’s a mystery how he was able to run away, you saw the security footage, the guy was barely standing on his feet, but lucky for you, he is in the exact same state when you surprise him at a bar and bring him in.

It’s past seven when you finally get home. Keying yourself into the apartment you are met with a quite pleasant sight. Harry has pushed the pullout in to make some space in the cramped living room and as you step inside, you are met with the sight of him doing pushups in the middle of the room, no shirt on, just a pair of loose shorts, all his tattoos are on display, a thin layer of sweat covering his body, his curls are held back with a headband. When he hears you arrive, his head shoots up and smirks in your way before doing a few more and then he stops, standing up just as you shut the front door.

“Welcome home, Honey,” he winks in your way and you just roll your eyes at him.

“Turning my living room into your personal gym, huh?”

“I can’t just sit around all day, waiting for you to get home, can I?”

“You can always just fix up my apartment while I’m gone,” you joke chuckling. Setting your bag down on your bed you join him in the kitchen where he is sipping on some water. “Anyway, I have good news for you. My brother said he’ll have one of his guys look into the case. I’m sure he’ll check after this Axel dude you mentioned.”

“That’s great! I’ve also been asking around today, some of my friends said they will try to dig up some dirt that might help me out, but I don’t want any of them to get too deep and then have Hugo go after them too.”

“It’ll be fine,” you nod, convinced that things will turn out well. “Alright, I’ll throw something together for dinner, what—“

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I already ordered, should be here soon.”

“You ordered food?” you ask in surprise.

“Of course. I won’t just eat your fridge out, dinners are on me while I’m here,” he smiles genuinely and you’re stunned by the gesture.

Half an hour later the two of you are sitting on the living room floor, Chinese takeout boxes littering the place around you, having a full on feast because Harry didn’t go light on the order.

“So, tell me, what have you been doing since high school?” he prompts the question. “I feel like I know you but I also don’t. Don’t get me wrong, being handcuffed by you every other month is fucking hot, but I don’t know much about you.”

“There’s not much to know,” you shrug. “I’ve been doing this since I was seventeen, no grandiose career.”

“But did you have any other plans before?”

“Thought about joining the police, but I was never tame enough to follow their rules.”

“Ooh, a little rebel?” he teases you and you throw a handful of napkins in his way, making him laugh.

“You can joke about it, but I’ve had my fair share of trouble as well, you are not the only one who’s been through some rough years.”

“I know that,” he nods, eyes getting serious for a moment. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

“You know about them?” you ask in surprise. You didn’t really share it with anyone, talking about the loss of them just made it harder to deal with it and you also didn’t want everyone’s petty.

“You just know about this kind of stuff when you grow up in foster care. Though you were lucky your brother was already of age.”

“I know. I’m convinced I wouldn’t be here if I had to go into foster care.” Putting down the box from your hands you look at Harry. “I’m sorry you had to deal with all that.”

“Not that it was any of your fault,” he smiles softly, but you can see the pain in his green eyes. Despite not knowing him well growing up, you always felt this weird urge to tell him how sorry you were for everything he had to deal with. He deserved a better childhood and teenage years and most importantly, respect from people. Everyone just labeled him as a lost case because of his background, but no one really tried to help him. Part of you feels guilty, because you could have helped through those years, but you were a little frightened from him as well, believing the rumors and talks about him, though now you know they were probably just stupid gossips.

Harry reaches into your box, stealing a dumpling and you snap on his hand, but he just pops it into his mouth grinning slyly.

“Hey! You have your own!” you tell him off.

“I know, but yours just tastes better.”

“You are such a pest,” you roll your eyes at him as you grab your box and start eating again.

“So, what does your boyfriend think about me being here?” he asks out of nowhere, but you see through his act. It’s his sneaky way of trying to get you to say if you’re single or not, probably already knowing the answer to that, but you choose to pull his leg a little.

“He is fine. Though you might have to plug your ears in a little when he comes over,” you tell him with a straight face and see his fall, a stunned expression on his handsome face.

“Wait, really? You have a boyfriend and told him about me being here?”

“Sure, why wouldn’t I?”

It’s hard not to start laughing, especially when the words process and he realizes that you are in fact taken. The flirty, teasing act is long gone, he presses his lips together nodding to himself as he continues to eat in silence.

“I’m just fucking with you, I don’t have a boyfriend,” you tell him at last, finally letting out a laugh. His eyes snap up at you and a smirk slowly tugs at his lips as he points a finger at you.

“You had me for a hot minute. Nice one.”

“Why were you so surprised when I said I have a boyfriend?” you ask tilting your head to the side.

“Guess the thought was just a little weird, I’ve never seen you with a guy before.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ve never been with any,” you point out, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Oh, I know. I never thought you are pretending to be a nun,” he snorts.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you gasp, feeling like it was a subtle way to call you some sort of slut. Harry looks up at your upset expression and he immediately knows how his words were taken.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he defends himself.

“Then how did you mean it?”

“I meant that I always thought a girl as pretty as you must have plenty of guys after her.”

Your eyebrows shoot up at how bluntly he just called you pretty. It had a refreshing sound after all the shameless flirting he has been doing when it came to you, and your poor little heart immediately skipped a beat upon hearing his words.

“Well, I didn’t have,” you admit with a sad smile. You briefly dated a guy from another school in tenth grade, but after that, your life was just way too complicated to get involved in a relationship and you haven’t really been able to change that even years later. When you’re very keen on some intimacy you go to a nearby bar and just let whatever man to pick you up and have for the night, but that doesn’t happen too often either, because it seems useless most of the time, you can do the job yourself just fine too, you don’t need some random man to call you his babygirl when he doesn’t even know your name. Some never even bother to finish you, they pass out once they got what they wanted so you prefer being on your own.

“Fucking losers!” Harry huffs dramatically. “They have no idea what’s good.”

“You don’t need to say that just to make me feel better,” you roll your eyes at him, but you can feel yourself blushing.

“I’m not, I was always crushing on you a little in high school, if I’m being honest,” he admits truthfully, managing to surprise you once again.

“For real?”

“Sure,” he nods, turning his focus back to his food as he continues to talk. “Even thought about asking you out to prom one time. But I figured you might not even know who I am.”

“Come on, everyone knew who you were!”

“Are you telling me off for being humble?” he asks grinning. “Okay, let me rephrase it. I didn’t know if you wanted anything to do with me after hearing stuff about me, so I just dodged the idea.”

You chew on his words a little before looking up at him, eyes meeting his green irises, though you are usually not one to get in on the flirting, now you just feel like being a little blunt.

“Well, I always thought you were good-looking.”

“Were? Am I not good-looking anymore?” he teases with a dramatic gasp that makes you roll your eyes.

“Well, the smugness takes a bit away from it, if I’m being honest,” you tell him off making him laugh.

Once you both are well fed you clean the boxes up together, you wash the few extra plates you used while Harry dries them off and puts them away. Opening one of the cabinets he moves the door a bit, examining how it hangs a little low.

“I always forget to fix it up,” you sigh. There’s quite a few things that could use some work, but you just never get to start on them so they are always put aside.

You take your turns in the bathroom as usual and you sit at your desk a little, working on a few stuff before calling it a night. Harry is already lying in his temporary bed on the pullout, scrolling through his phone. The covers hide only half of his body, his naked, tattooed chest is on display, one of his arms is tucked under his head, the muscles on his arm flexing just right. He surely is a sight, you can’t deny that.

“Seeing something you like?” His voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you realize you’ve been caught staring. Clearing your throat you stack up the papers on your desk and head into your bedroom.

“Good night, Harry,” you mumble, feeling your cheeks heating up.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he calls after you before you click the door closed.

The next day you go with your usual routine, Robert checks in with you letting you know he already has someone on Harry’s case, so there’s not much you can do for now, only hope that something will surface that can help him out of this mess. Throughout the day you often catch yourself thinking about what Harry could be doing at home all day and you pray to all higher powers he is not currently snooping through your lingerie.

It’s a frustrating day, you couldn’t find the guy you’ve been after but you were really hoping to finally get the money for him. He is big money, but he makes you work for it certainly. When you arrive home Harry is nowhere to be seen, but then you hear the shower running so you figure he must have just been working out and is now taking a shower. Two pizza boxes are set on the dining table and you sigh in relief that you don’t have to think about cooking with him around. Going to the kitchen you are about to grab two plates when you notice that the cupboard door that’s been hanging low a little is now fixed. It’s as new as it never was since you’ve been living here and it gets you wondering if anything else has been taken care of. Going through the kitchen you start to realize that all the little things that’s been waiting to be fixed are now working perfectly: the handle on one of the drawers, the loose tap, the shelf that’s been crooked for a while, it’s all perfect now.

The bathroom door opens and Harry walks out wearing a pair of black sweatpants, his hair is wet and he has a towel hanging from around his neck.

“Oh, hey. Didn’t hear you arrive,” he breathes out throwing the towel to the back of one of the chairs around the dining table.

“Just arrived a few minutes ago. Hey, did you fix my kitchen?” you ask furrowing your eyebrows at him.

“Uh, yeah. Took a look at the stuff that seemed off. Also fixed the shoe rack near the door and the hangers in the bathroom.”

“Oh wow. You really shouldn’t have.”

“Didn’t you tell me to fix the place up while being here?” he teases you with a smirk as he leans against the table.

“That was just a joke.”

“I know,” he chuckles softly. “But I really didn’t have much to do today so I thought I might make myself useful.”

“That’s… actually very nice of you. Thank you.”

“No worries.”

“So how was your day?” Harry asks as the two of you are chewing on the pizza, sitting at the dining table.

“Why are you making small talk like we’re a married couple?” you scrunch your nose, taking another bite from your slice.

“What, I can’t be nice?”

“You can, it’s just you are usually not,” you point out.

“Or you are just never around when I decide to be nice,” he grins. “You usually just burst into my place, handcuff me and then bring me in. That doesn’t give much time to be nice.”

“I wouldn’t cuff you if you didn’t try to run away the first time I wanted to bring you in,” you retort shrugging.

“Okay, first of all, I was not expecting you to just kick my door in and have a fucking knife pointed at my throat, of course I tried to escape! And second, I quite enjoy being handcuffed by you, so I guess it’s not that bad.”

That smug smirk is back on his lips again and you wish you could just wipe it off sometimes. He is so full of himself!

“You are always coming with this cuffing thing. Get a hold of your kinks, Styles.”

“You can’t tell me it doesn’t turn you on. I bet you’d like that, if you haven’t already been cuffed in the bedroom,” he snorts, taking a big bite, the sauce dripping a bit from the corner of his mouth that he wipes with the back of his hand.

“My kinks are none of your concerns,” you sternly reply, but it just makes his grin wider.

“Oh, so you do have kinks! Tell me more about them!”

“Well what are yours?” you retort, hoping it would shut him up, but it has the opposite effect on him. Leaning back he swallows the food in his mouth before starting the list.

“Well I do love getting handcuffed, I’m into spanking, both ways. I have a weird thing for—“

“Alright! I’ve heard enough!” you cut him off. “Stop, just… stop,” you breathe out.

“What?” Harry chuckles, clearly enjoying the situation more than you’d want him to. “Don’t tell me you’re too prude to talk about sex.”

“I’m not,” you answer right away.

“Okay, then tell me about your kinks!” he teases you some more. Snapping your eyes at him you can tell how much he is enjoying making you so uncomfortable, but you also know that he thinks he’ll just make you blush and you won’t tell him a thing. So you decide to give him his own medicine.

“I do in fact like to be handcuffed, I love a good spanking, when my ass cheeks turn red from the slaps, that makes me cum very hard. I love a good old choking and I particularly enjoy giving blowjobs because I don’t have a gagging reflex, makes men go fucking nuts when I have them down my throat to the last inch, I get off their reaction easily.”

Harry’s lips part as he stares at you with a stunned expression, he definitely did not expect that answer, or any answer at all. That face alone makes up for the slight anxiety that took over you talking about what you really enjoy in the bedroom. Your eyes wander down and a triumphant smirk tugs on your lips.

“Don’t be such a horny teenager, I can see your dick getting hard,” you tell him before flipping the pizza box closed and walking into the kitchen you put the remaining of it into the fridge.

“You are such a tease, Y/N,” he shakes his head with a soft chuckle. “But it might backfire, because now I’m gonna get off thinking about spanking you,” he grins at you, but you just shrug, heading to the bathroom.

“Do whatever you want, fantasizing is free,” you tell him before locking yourself in the bathroom.

You’d be lying if you said you don’t think about him in the shower. As your hands move down your body, your fingers wander between your legs, gently playing with your clit while thinking about Harry spanking you. Knowing that he is kind of into the same things as you makes your fantasies even more vivid, but you don’t let yourself get off. You wouldn’t want him to hear you moan under the shower, he would tease you about it forever.

When you’re all done you step out of the bathroom only to get startled by Harry who is standing right at the door, wearing only his boxer briefs.

“Shit!” you gasp, snapping your hand to your chest.

“You took awfully long in there, Y/N,” he smirks at you, but you just roll your eyes at him. “If you ever need help washing you back, don’t be shy to ask me to join.”

“Keep dreaming,” you mumble under your breath as you walk past him and make your way into your bedroom.

“I already do that!” he calls after you before you shut the door closed.

Throwing yourself to your bed you take a deep breath closing your eyes. If he keeps up this act, you have no idea how you’re gonna survive having him around any longer.

Two days go by in the same manner. You spend most of the day out doing your usual stuff, you actually manage to catch another guy who was a small reward, but it’s more than nothing. Harry usually has dinner ready and waiting for you by the time you get back home. During these two days he has fixed up basically everything that wasn’t working in your apartment, freeing you from doing it yourself for probably twice as long as he did.

You sit and eat together, Harry usually tries to get under your skin with some more flirting that you return with a cold shoulder, but then, when you’re lying in the comfort of your bed or standing under the hot water in the shower, you always find your thoughts wandering off to the man on the other side of the door.

Ashamed to admit, but you’ve gotten yourself off once thinking about him. You woke up in the middle of the night from a quite hot dream that, of course, featured a shirtless Harry and you just couldn’t stop yourself from bringing you some relief. For a little while your hands weren’t yours, you imagined that Harry’s big, calloused and ring clad fingers were moving against your body and you needed every drop of self-control not to moan his name out as you came. You blame it on him being so comfortable shirtless around your place, he has been really making himself feel home. Not that you’re complaining, he is a sight for the eyes certainly, but it’s also giving you a hard time.

Robert soon asks you to swing by the station to discuss some details about Harry’s case. You can tell he couldn’t dig up anything helpful, he would have already mentioned it through the phone, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have anything that can be useful in further investigation.

“So, I’ve caught wind of Axel Morris being involved in the death of the victim, but we haven’t been able to recover any evidence that would point towards him, unfortunately,” Robert explains as the two of you sit in his office. “Didn’t want to bring him in for questioning either because then Hugo would find out we are after him.”

“So what can be done now?”

“I’m… really not sure, Y/N. If Axel doesn’t magically confesses the murder on tape, I’m not sure I can do anything to help Styles.”

Chewing on your bottom lip you’re trying hard to think of what to do. This can’t end like this, there has to be a way out for Harry…

“Look. I know you’re trying to cook up something to help Styles, but I’m not sure I can give you much time.”

“What do you mean?” you ask with a puzzled look.

“I mean that…” He glances at the door and then leans closer, speaking more quietly. “If I had a guess where he could be found, I would say he is at your place as we are speaking. I can’t let a guy walk free who is wanted for murder, Y/N. I eventually have to bring him back.”

“Alright, alright. Just give me a few more days. I’ll figure it out,” you plead, running your hand through your hair. Robert sighs, shaking his head.

“You have three days. That marks ten days since the warrant has been out. If you don’t bring me evidence by then, I’m sending the guys to your place to get him.”

“Three days, alright. I’ll… figure it out. Thanks, Robert,” you nod, leaving his office in a rush.

You have three days to find evidence against Axel and free Harry, but how do you even start? You’re good at what you do, but this is kind of out of your field and you’re not sure you can deal with it.

Walking around town you try to come up with an idea, but end up doing what you always do when you’re stuck on a case. Thanks to your work you’ve built up quite a web of connections, you always know someone who knows someone who is exactly the person you need. So sitting at a diner, munching on a late lunch you start calling your connections to see if you can dig up anything that could help.

A few hours later the situation becomes brighter and you finally have a somewhat useful plan so you head home to let Harry in on what you’ve come up with.

He is seemingly surprised when you arrive home earlier than the usual, he is sitting at the dining table, a bowl of instant noodles in front of him as he is watching some video on his phone. Like usually, he is only wearing a pair of sweatpants, his tattooed abdomen on full display.

“Oh, hi! Something happened?” he asks, concern showing in his eyes as he watches you kick your shoes off and storm into your bedroom, going straight to your wardrobe to dig up one particular outfit. “Y/N?” you hear him call out for you, his voice coming from your door.

“Yes! I knew I still had it!” you cheer in triumph as you hold up the latex set that clearly leaves very little to the imagination. When Harry sees it, his eyes go wide and his imagination probably gets wild for a moment, because he clears his throat as he looks at you puzzled.

“What do you need that for?”

“It’s part of my plan that will get us evidence against Axel Morris.”

“I’m not really following, so please elaborate?”

“I talked to Robert, he said we need to get him to confess. Now, I made a few phone calls and found out that our friend, Axel is a regular at this strip club called Siren. I’ll pretend to be a dancer and wrap him around my fingers and get him to confess while recording. You said it yourself, he is a real dumbass, I’m sure I can make it work.”

Harry stares at you frozen for a long moment before he lets out a heartfelt chuckle and now you’re the one confused about what’s really going on.

“S’cute you think I’m letting you close to that man. Funny, that was a good joke. Alright, what do you want for dinner?” he asks, walking back to the dinner table, but you chase after him.

“It’s not a joke, Harry. Pretty much our only chance to get you out of this mess!”

“You are not going anywhere near that guy and that’s not up for debate.”

“Not that you can tell me what to do!” you scoff at him.

“Y/N, you have no idea what you’re talking about,” he shakes his head sitting back to the table, stirring his pasta around with the spoon.

“I certainly know, and this is pretty much your only chance to save your ass, Harry.”

“Not if it means you go near Axel, nah,” he shakes his head calmly, as if it wasn’t even an argument and he had the right to grant you permission.

“Well, I’m doing it and you can’t do anything about that. I’m going in tomorrow. I know one of the dancers, she is helping me set it all up,” you shrug, your attitude meeting his careless one, but he doesn’t like your answer, not even a bit.

“Y/N, you are not going there!” he snaps, standing up, the chair falling back from the sudden movement. “That psycho killed a man or did you forget about that?!”

“Okay, so what’s your plan to save your ass? Because there’s literally no other choice,” you retort giving him a frown as you march back to your room and Harry follows you.

“But it won’t be you dressing up as a stripper, seducing a fucking murderer to get him to confess!”

“So then what is it going to be?!” you snap at him facing him again. “Because Robert gave me three days to sort things out before he comes here and takes you in himself!”

“Then I’ll go to jail! No big deal!” he throws his hands into the air like it was just a minor inconvenience and not a case of murder that could put him behind bars forever.

“Are you fucking insane?” you laugh in disbelief. “You’re willing to lose the rest of your life for what? Nothing at all?!”

“It’s not nothing, Y/N. You are not getting yourself into this mess and it’s not up for debate.”

“You hold no control over me, Harry!” you scream at him at this point, fed up with his bullshit.

You find yourself pinned against the wall in a blink of the eye, Harry is pressed up against you, hands grabbing onto your forearms as he keeps you in place firmly, one of his thighs coming between your legs as his face is dangerously close to yours now. He knocks the air out of you for a moment and you stare back at him with parted lips for just a split second before your instincts kick in.

You easily knee him in the crotch, giving you just enough opportunity to grab one of his wrists and twist it behind his back, forcing him to get on the ground, growling in pain.

“Fuck! Y/N!” he groans, snapping his other hand against the hardwood floor. You give him another squeeze as a warning before letting him go and he falls to the ground for a moment before he pushes himself up to sit on his heels.

“You still think I can’t protect myself against a man?” you sneer at him walking over to the bed to grab the outfit that was tossed to the side in the hustle.

“Shit, I think you broke my dick!” he breathes out hunching over and you just smile to yourself as you hand the outfit up to the side of your wardrobe.

“Don’t be such a crybaby, you’re fine.”

“Don’t think so, might need a get-well kiss on it though,” he smirks through his painful expression and you roll your eyes at him. How is he still at it when you just kneeled him in his crotch? “Okay, your message came through very clear though, but I’m still not a fan of your plan,” he sighs finally standing up from the floor.

“It’s gonna be easy, I’ll get him a little drunk, offer him a private dance, make a move and get him to talk. If he really is that dumb like you said, I can easily get him to open up, just gotta make sure he is focusing on something else,” you explain gesturing towards the outfit on the hanger.

“You can’t wear that, Y/N.”

“This is what strippers wear, I don’t see what the problem is.”

“My problem is that it’s like… nonexistent. There’s no textile at all!” he rages, still eyeing the red latex set.

“Are you… jealous?” you ask, starting to get a feel of what’s really going on. Harry’s head snaps in your way and the look in his eyes answers your question even when he tries to hide his real reasons.

“Jealous of you becoming a stripper? I bet I can make more than you if I became one,” he scoffs smugly.

“Oh my god, you are so fucking jealous!” you laugh, enjoying this one in a million moment. “What’s next, you have feelings for me? Are you gonna confess your undying love?” you tease him.

“Okay, you had your laughs, that was enough. Excuse me if I’m looking out for you and I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

“Don’t get all smitten with me now. I’ve been doing just fine without you so far.”

“Yeah, how many people did you bring in for murder?” Harry questions and that leaves you without an answer. Not that you don’t know it, but because the number is exactly zero. You’ve been doing your job for quite a while and there’s been all kind of cases under your hands, but not murders. Though you are completely capable of defending yourself, you’re not sure you want to deal with monsters who took a human’s life. The only reason you took Harry’s case was because you had an inkling feeling from the very start that he did not do it.

“Just as I thought,” Harry scoffs. “Listen, if you really want to do this then I’m going with you. No way I’m gonna just sit around here and wait to see if you make it back home.”

“How do you plan on leaving the house? Someone might recognize you and then it’s game over.”

“I’ll just… disguise myself,” he shrugs. “Can’t be that hard.”

You never thought the day would come when you see Harry Styles wearing a fake mustache and a ridiculous wig, secured with a beanie to his head. The moment the two of you finish his disguise, you can’t hold your laughter back. He looks so damn ridiculous, you can barely breathe through your laughter as he checks himself out in the mirror.

“I look like a fucking pedophile,” he shakes his head chuckling as he pushes some fake hair out of his forehead. “Where the fuck did you find this wig?” he snaps at you in disbelief.

“Does it matter? You look so fucking bad!” you laugh hysterically and Harry just stands there, waiting for you to finally stop, but it seems like he is not bothered by your reaction. He probably finds it equally funny too.

It’s currently seven pm, you have to head to Siren soon to start your fake shift as a stripper and you haven’t been able to talk Harry down from following you, so there you are, getting ready to fool everyone around you. Harry with his awful disguise and you with your stripper outfit.

When you finally catch your breath you leave Harry in the living room to get ready as well. Following a heavy makeup with dark, smokey eyes, you also put on a wig, a short, red bob that’s part of the outfit. Then you squeeze yourself into the latex, the tiny top barely covering you, the skirt is not even a skirt, rather than just a belt. As an extra to the fit, you’ve put on a red corset, though it’s more so you can hide the voice recorder since the original outfit doesn’t give too many places to do that. You pair it all with fishnet tights and a pair of black, thigh-high boots. As you check yourself out in the mirror you don’t even recognize yourself. Y/N is officially gone, the girl in the boots is… Crystabel.

Opening the door you step out of your bedroom, Harry is standing in the middle of the living room, busy with his phone so at first he doesn’t even see you walk out.

“Ready to leave?” he asks, eyes still on the screen of his phone.

“I… guess?” you breathe out, feeling extremely self-conscious in this revealing set.

When Harry finally looks up his mouth drops open. He is not even trying to hide his hunger as his eyes rake down the length of your body. He takes his time to take in every inch of your exposed skin before his gaze settles on your eyes behind your long fake lashes.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out and it gives you quite the confidence boost.

“You like it?” you ask, striking a pose as you push your hips to the side and place your hands on your waist.

“I-I’m… I’m fucking speechless,” he chuckles as you walk closer and grabbing the strings of his hoodie, you tug on the playfully while he is still shamelessly checking you out. “I don’t know how I could live this long without seeing you like this.”

“You are such a flirt,” you roll your eyes, but just as you are about to step away from him he grabs you by your waist and pulls you against him firmly. Your hands move to his broad shoulders right away, trying to keep your balance in his hold.

“I might be a flirt, but you are the hottest woman I’ve seen and I admit I will be fucking jealous of every man that’s gonna lay their eyes on you tonight.” His voice is low, full of lust and if it wasn’t for his funny disguise, you would have melted right into his arms in a heartbeat.

“I can’t take you seriously with this mustache on,” you chuckle softly, running your fingers over the fake facial hair, the pad of your fingers slightly touching his soft lips underneath.

“Just wait until we get back home and I get rid of it,” he smirks and winks at you, making you chuckle, but you can also feel yourself blushing at his words.

You put on a trench coat to cover the racy outfit as the two of you make your way to the club. Harry is driving, but you took your car in case someone might recognize him near the club. Arriving Harry parks at a darker corner in the parking lot and he pulls out a little box from his backpack.

“Alright, let’s wire you up, Love,” he smirks as you undo the coat and let him help you get the devices situated on you.

The voice recorder gets pushed into your stomach, hiding behind your corset. It’s thick enough that it doesn’t give away that anything is hidden under it, it’s just a little uncomfortable for you, but you are sucking it up.

“Here, put this into your ears,” Harry hands you an earpiece that you place into your right ear, hiding it with your wig. “It’s not the best quality, but you’ll be able to hear me and I’ll hear everything around you. We need a safe word if anything happens so I know I have to go inside.”

“This is starting to look like a spy movie or something,” you mumble under your breath as you start buttoning your coat again.

“Don’t turn it into a joke, Y/N. Axel might be a stupid jerk, but don’t forget he killed that man. He doesn’t care if you’re a woman or not, or if you’re a real stripper or not.”

“Alright, alright,” you sigh nodding. “How about… cherry?”

“Okay. Use it if you are in trouble or someone is hurting you or anything.” You nod, fidgeting with the end of the coat, but Harry grabs your hand and makes you look at him. “I mean it, Y/N. I don’t want you to play the hero.”

“I won’t, calm down. I gotta go now. I’ll see you soon,” you tell him before getting out of the car and heading to the backdoor. Glancing back one last time you see Harry standing at the hood of the car, watching you intently as you disappear from his sight.

Sienna, who is helping you tonight is already waiting for you at the backdoor. You met her a few years ago when you caught her abusive ex and took him in. She said she owed you one for freeing her from that asshole and now you are finally here to collect that favor.

“Damn, you look good!” she grins, pulling you into a short hug.

“You think it’s gonna be alright?” you ask, pulling the coat open to show her the whole outfit.

“Fucking fantastic. No men will be able to focus on anything than your boobs,” she snorts, pulling you inside.

The plan is easy. You won’t be out all night, Sienna will be your eyes and when she spots Axel arrive, that’s when you come into the picture. Sienna will escort him to a secluded area and tell him he has a free lap dance which will be, of course, performed by you. Some flirting, some seducing and hopefully Axel will be dumb enough to let a some sort of confession slip.

Sienna takes you to the changing room and you stay in the corner, trying not to be in the way as you watch the girls get ready. There are ten girls in total, five of them are dancing tonight, the other five are servers, but they still dress like dancers. They all wear equally revealing outfits, just like you and as you watch them move around so confidently, you start to get more and more nervous. What if Axel figures out you’re not a real dancer right away? Or if he notices the recorder pushed into your stomach? This plan is definitely not the safest you’ve ever come up with, and you are starting to doubt yourself now that you are so deep in it.

“Y/N?” you hear Harry’s faint voice in your ear. “Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” you breathe out and hearing his voice calms your nerves a little.

“Everything alright?” First you nod, but then you realize he can’t see you.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Are you nervous?”

“Very,” you admit with an awkward chuckle. Luckily, Harry doesn’t bring his usual cockiness out, feeling how serious the situation is.

“You can still come out and we can just go home. You don’t have to do this.”

“No, I want to do this,” you firmly answer. “Just… talk to me a little. Please.”

“Alright, I’ll tell you about when I wanted to ask you out to prom,” you hear him start and you can’t push a smile down as you sit and wait, listening to his soothing voice. “You were wearing this pretty white sweater that day and tight jeans, you looked so fucking good, Y/N. I saw you walking to your locker and you smiled at some random guy and I was instantly jealous.”

“Really?” you ask quietly.

“O, yeah,” he chuckles. “I told you, I had a crush on you. So I thought about asking you out, wanted to just walk up to you and casually ask if you wanted to go with me. But then I just watched you and realized that you probably wouldn’t want anything to do with me, so I just watched you get your books out of your locker and then you walked right past me, looked me in the eyes and I straight up felt my knees turn into jelly. Good thing I was leaning against the wall. You walked away and I never asked you out. Still regret that,” he admits and your heart flutters at his words.

As weird as it sounds, you remember that day. Especially because when your eyes met Harry’s you felt kind of the same. You felt intimidated and wondered why he was watching you so intently, but you would have never guessed he wanted to ask you out.

You see Sienna walking in, her eyes find you and you immediately know it’s show time.

“Harry?” you breathe out at last.

“Yeah?”

“I would have said yes,” you tell him before you follow Sienna out and the blasting music pushes down Harry’s voice in your earpiece.

The bright lights of the back are switched to the dim, red lighting in the main bar area, a dancer is already on the stage and the place seems packed for the night as all men are hungrily watching the girl on the stage, throwing dollar bills at her shamelessly.

Sienna pulls you to the bar and leans closer to your ear so you can hear what she is saying.

“He is in one of the private rooms, told him the dance is on the house to thank him for being a regular. I asked one of the guards to stand nearby.”

“Thank you, S,” you nod at her as she squeezes your hands.

“Good luck, girl,” she smiles a little bitterly before she shows you the way to the room where Axel is currently waiting for his private dance.

As you stop at the door you take a deep breath, staring at the doorknob for a moment, trying to brace yourself for whatever is about to happen in there.

“I’m going in,” you say, partially to yourself, but mostly to Harry so he knows what’s happening though you don’t hear an answer before you open the door and step inside.

The room is mostly what you were expecting, a small stage with a rod in the middle, across that a long, plush, deep burgundy couch. The walls are black, just the red led lights illuminating the place.

And there he is. Axel Morris is sitting in the middle of the couch, manspreading so widely like the asshole that he is, arms leisurely draped across the back of the couch as his hungry eyes immediately snap to your body.

Axel is big. He is a large man and you realize that the moment you see him. Though he is sitting you can easily tell that he’s tall and he is definitely bulky. Could end you in a blink of an eye and knowing that he is capable of murder is just an eerie thought that doesn’t leave you alone. But you suck it up and get into character, only thinking about one thing: help Harry out of this mess.

Music with low bass starts playing through the speakers as you make your way over to Axel who grins at you disgustingly, making it hard for you to keep the façade.

“Hey big boy, heard you’ve earned a dance for yourself,” you coo at him stopping at the edge of the stage as you keep eye-contact with him. You lean against the edge and spread your legs just enough to tease his imagination about what’s about to come.

“Hell yes, I did! Hope you’re a good dancer, babygirl. Haven’t seen you around here.”

“I’m new. But I’m really good, that’s why they sent me,” you smirk at him sweetly as you walk closer until you’re standing in front of him. He reaches out and grabbing your hips he pulls you to straddle his lap and it catches you by surprise but you don’t fall out of character.

“Then show me what you can do. What’s your name?” He licks his lips as you start moving, doing your best from movies you’ve seen with strippers in them.

“Crystabel, but you can call me yours,” you hum, grinding and bouncing yourself, completely unleashing your inner hoe. “Tell me, big boy. Are you as dangerous as you seem?”

“Oh baby, you have no idea,” he grins proudly.

“Really?” you coo, pushing yourself up against him. His dirty hands find your ass and you want to push them away so badly, but you let him have his way with you for the sake of the plan. “What’s the worst you’ve done?”

“Why does a pretty girl like you want to know about that, huh?” he cocks his head to the side, eyeing you with suspicion so you know you have to be careful.

“Because I have a thing for those stuff. I love pain and blood, it gets me off always,” you smirk at him teasingly, grinding yourself against him to divert his attention a little from the words spoken.

“Mm, yeah?”

“Yeah, I love that kind of stuff,” you moan, running your hands down your chest, his eyes hungrily following your every move and you know he is zoned out. It’s going perfectly.

“Well, I’m the perfect man for you then, babygirl. I’ve done all the things you can imagine.”

“Really? You are turning me on, big boy,” you murmur lowly, turning around for a bit so he can get a good glimpse of your backside as well. “Have you… taken anyone’s life before?” you bluntly ask, hoping you aren’t moving too fast and he won’t snap at you.

“Not sure I should be talking about that with you, pretty girl,” he smirks smugly. You turn back to face him, pushing your crotch against him as you try not to gag feeling his erection under you.

“I’m good with secrets, Honey. My lips are sealed,” you grin at him, stroking his oily face and try your best not to wipe your fingers into the cushion of the couch. Axel smirks at you, clearly enjoying the show you are putting on, his fingers are digging into your thighs as his eyes are practically glued to your chest.

“I’m a killer, babygirl.”

“Yeah?” you gasp, faking your excitement. “What did you do, big boy? Tell me, make me wet,” you purr biting into your bottom lip, pushing your chest out some more to distract him from his consciousness that might keep him from answering.

“Killed a guy recently,” he smugly admits and your adrenaline is high in the sky. You are so close to what you need!

“Oh my, sounds like a dirty job.”

“It was.”

“Saw it on the news a guy got killed not long ago, did you do that?” you smirk at him, his hand slapping your ass and you fight yourself not to punch him in the face.

“That Richards guy? Yeah,” he nods and you almost start screaming in your triumph. This dumbass really did just confess to you, because you had your ass and tits out for him!

“Cool. What’s your name, big guy? Wanna know who I’ll think of when I touch myself later,” you pant into his ear, you need him to say his name otherwise the confession might go to shit.

“I’m Axel, babygirl,” he grins, leaning dangerously close to you, he clearly wants to push his tongue down your throat but you push yourself away and up from his lap.

“Our time is up, big boy. See you later!” you sing and walk out of the room while he is still kind of zoned out.

The moment you are out, you start running. You can’t have him realize what just happened and stop you. Pushing your way back to the dressing room you grab all your stuff and spring out of the building. Harry is standing at the entrance, his ridiculous disguise is gone as he spots you with wide eyes. He probably heard everything and wanted to be there for you when you get out and as soon as you reach him he grabs your hand and the two of you run to the car. Right when you get into the car, you spot Axel running out from the front entrance and he definitely realized what just happened.

“Hey! Get back here you slut!” he shouts as Harry starts the car and you melt into the seat, scared of what’s about to happen because you see Axel reach to his back and the next thing you know is that he has a gun in his hand.

“Harry! Go!” you scream when you see him aim at the car and right at that moment, the wheels screech as Harry pushes the gas pedal to the fullest and the car yanks forward.

Your heart drops to the floor when a bullet shoots into the side of the car as Axel tries to stop the two of you. Harry takes a sharp turn and leaves the car park with full speed. You see Axel from the mirror, he is raging and keeps shooting after you, but he has no aim or whatsoever. You reach the end of the street and you feel like you can finally breathe again.

“Oh shit, fuck,” you mumble, chest heaving as you grab onto the armrest for some kind of leverage, your adrenaline is still pumping through your veins from the action movie-like scene that just happened.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” Harry asks, eyes dancing between the road ahead of him and you as he tries to figure out if anything happened to you.

“I-I’m fine, he was just… fucking nasty to deal with you,” you groan at the thought of his hands on you. You’ll need the hottest shower after this, that’s for sure. “Go to the station, we gotta bring the tape in now,” you tell him as you reach into your corset. Pulling the recorder out you huff in relief, it’s been pressed into you for way too long. The tape is still rolling so you end it and then rewind it, checking if everything you need is on it. Luckily, it caught the whole thing perfectly, that means Harry is not going to jail. Well, not this time at least.

He is speeding down the streets as you get rid of the wig and put on your coat, you don’t want to walk into the police station dressed like a hooker and have the word spread that Robert’s sister has been making money some other way lately.

Arriving to the station you hold the recorder so tightly as if your life depends on it while Harry reaches for your other hand and firmly holds it in his warm palm. You walk inside and immediately spot Jeremy at the front desk. Letting go of Harry’s hand you run up to him.

“Jer, I got evidence for the Richards case! I got a confession on tape,” you beam at him holding the recorder up. He gives you a stunned look as he takes the recorder.

“Confession? How do you—“ He is cut off when you hear Harry’s voice from behind you.

“Hey! What the fuck!” he snaps and as you turn around you see that two officers are already on him, trying to handcuff him. Jeremy quickly forgets about the recorder as he joins in on strangling Harry. but you grab his arm and try to pull back.

“No! He didn’t do it! Listen to the tape!” you cry out, desperate to end this mess, but it feels like no one is listening to you.

“Harry Styles, you are under arrest for the murder of Dave Richards. You have the right…” One of the officers starts saying the usual speech as they drag Harry away while you are begging to Jeremy to listen to you.

“Jeremy! He didn’t fucking do it!” you scream, tears rolling down your face.

“What do you mean?” he asks giving you a puzzled look. It was Axel Morris! One of Hugo McKain’s men! They are trying to frame Harry!” you explain, while Harry is being taken away. “Harry, no!” you shout after them, but the officers don’t stop.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! I’ll be fine!” he calls after you before he disappears from your vision.

“Jeremy, please just listen to the fucking tape! I got his confession!”

“I’ll look into it, but I’m afraid Harry is spending the night here,” he sighs, looking down at the recorder before he walks away.

“Fuck, no!” you choke out.

When you finally stop crying you rush out of the building and call your brother, not even caring that it’s past midnight. He better answer your call or you are showing up at his house and start banging on his door until he opens it.

“What the fuck, Y/N?” he growls into the phone.

“Robert, they fucking took Harry in! I had the confession on tape, but they just wouldn’t listen, they arrested him!”

“Hey, slow down, what are you talking about?”

Taking a deep breath you tell him the whole story. The club, the dance, the confession and then how you came straight to the station but they arrested Harry without listening to you.

“Alright, you can’t do much now, Y/N. He is still a suspect but I’ll call Jeremy to look into the tape. If it’s found relevant Harry will be out in the morning okay?”

“Please come in early in the morning and make sure he is let out, please!” you cry out, feeling so helpless after everything that just happened.

“I will. Meet me at the station at six, okay? It’ll be alright. Go home, have some sleep and then we’ll make everything right in the morning.”

You do as Robert asked, go home, have a shower, wash the night off of your skin and lie in bed however you are not able to sleep, not even for a minute. You keep thinking about Harry and what might be happening to him now. They better get their shit together and let him out in the morning or you are losing your mind. You didn’t go through all this just to have him put behind bars anyway.

It’s not even six when you are already at the station, anxiously waiting for Robert to show up. You keep glancing up at the building, thinking about how Harry is somewhere in there and you can only hope he’ll be out with you shortly.

When Robert arrives he goes straight up to check out the situation with the tape and Harry. Waiting for him down in the hall is nerve-wrecking, you feel like time has stopped. When he finally appears again you jump to your feet running up to him with high hopes.

“The tape has been examined, it was classified as evidence. Jeremy has already put out an arrest warrant on Axel. Harry is no longer a suspect. He’ll be down once the paperwork is done.”

“Oh thank God!” you breathe out and throw yourself at him, hugging him tighter than ever.

“Look, but there is something I need to talk to you about,” he says with a serious look.

“Okay, what is it?”

“We might be able to get this Axel guy, but I’m pretty sure Hugo is already after the two of you. We have a whole team for him, working on catching him finally, but it might be smart if you just left town for a little.”

“Oh. Yeah, sounds logical,” you nod.

“Let me know if you need help with that. I can arrange something for you.”

“We’ll see. I have to talk to Harry first.”

“Harry, huh?” Robert smirks down at you knowingly and you feel yourself blushing. A lot has changed lately around you and Harry and you guess it’s quite evident for everyone else as well. “Just so you know, he asked about you during the night. Wanted to know if you are alright.”

“Yeah?” you breathe out with a small smile.

“Yes. Might have been wrong about him a little. Tell him I said hello, I need to get to work now,” he nods with a fond smile.

“Thank you, Robert!” you call after him as he waves in your way before disappearing in the elevator.

Waiting around in the hall you keep looking towards the hallway, hoping to see him appear finally, but the minutes are just dragging by way too slowly.

You’re impatiently sitting on one of the benches by the wall when you finally see him walking down the hallway, leisurely running his hand through his hair, a tired smile sitting on his lips when he sees you leap from your seat and launch at him, throwing yourself into his arms.

“Hey, hey! It’s all good, Love. Told you not to worry about me,” he chuckles, but holds you tight anyway, his arms wrapping around you as he lifts you off the ground, taking a few steps forward.

“Of course I fucking worry about you, idiot!” you mumble into his neck before leaning back you look at his pretty face.

“Yeah? Does this mean I had the right to worry about you last night?”

“You were?”

“Fuck yes,” he laughs. “You have no idea what it was like to sit outside and listen to everything that fucker told you. Wanted to punch him in the face so badly.”

“So heroic,” you grin at him, your face already inching closer to his, arms still wrapped around his neck.

“Only for my favorite stripper,” he winks at you, making you gasp.

“If you dare to bring it up again and call me a stripper, I swear to God I—“

You don’t get to finish your threat, because his hand snakes to the back of your neck and he pulls you into a hard kiss, his lips smashing against yours. Melting into the kiss you open your mouth for him without hesitation, his tongue meeting yours as he kisses you with so much vigor and passion, he makes you bend your back, leaning back as he holds you firmly in his strong arms. And suddenly, you feel like you’re seventeen again, making out with your high school crush in the school hallway, luckily, you are kissing the same person you wanted then.

“I’m fucking starving, babe,” he breathes out once you finally pull away from each other. “For you as well, but can we get some real food?” he asks as he laces his fingers together with yours, heading out of the station.

“Sure,” you chuckle. “Hey, there’s something we need to talk about.”

“Love, told you, you can handcuff me to the bedframe, I’m into that stuff.”

“Shut up!” you laugh smacking his chest as the two of you walk out to your car. “It’s not about that,” you murmur with a soft blush. “Robert said we should leave for a while, Hugo might be after us after what happened last night.”

“Yeah, thought about that myself too,” he nods as he gets behind the wheel without even asking if you want him to drive or not.

“So what should we do?” you question, sitting in the comfort of your car. Harry reaches for your hand and brings it up to his mouth, kissing your knuckles softly before he smirks at you.

“Have you been to Ireland, Love?”

“No,” you breathe out, a little stunned by the question.

“I have a friend over there, I’m sure he would love to have us there for a while. What do you say?”

“Are you for real? You want to go to Ireland with me?”

“Yeah, would be fun, don’t you think?”

“Okay,” you smile in awe. Even after that kiss you had doubts he would want to run away with you for the time being. But he is definitely planning to have you around longer. “Yeah, Ireland sounds fun.”

“Great. Then let’s head home to pack,” he smirks, starting the car. “Oh, Love?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t forget to bring your handcuffs,” he grins and you just laugh at his smugness before leaning closer to kiss him quickly before the two of you finally drive away from the station.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #dead or alive

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gotnofucks · 4 years

Text

My Little Girl

Pairing: dark!Tony stark x reader (ROYAL AU)

Summary: Prince Tony hunts you on the royal hunting trip.

Words: 6.1k

Warning: non-con, yandere, breeding kink, smut, 18+ ONLY

A/N: Why don’t we have more Tony fics?? That man is fire

MASTERLIST

Part 2 Part 3

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When you lived in a monarchy, certain hierarchies had to be followed. A king marries a queen and bears princes and princesses. Similarly, a maid marries a porter boy or servant, and bears kids who work like their parents. You were taught to follow these rules just like everyone else in the kingdom. Your parents were both servants to the king and queen, and once you were old enough you were sent to work in the palace alongside your mother too. Queen Maria Stark was a loving queen and often the soothing balm for her people who bore the stern commands of King Howard Stark. You loved to work for the queen as you got the chance to work alongside your mother and see the royal luxuries. The work was easy enough as there were so many people to help and sometimes when you did something really well you were handsomely rewarded. You took great pride in wearing the gold earbobs given to you by the queen and you stubbornly refused to let your father sell them in exchange for money.

The kingdom was a prospering and peaceful one, much more advanced than their neighbors which made the prince a very eligible bachelor. Prince Tony Stark was a handsome young man and as far as you were concerned, he was a shameless rake. You didn’t serve him directly, but you’d seen a gaggle of girls leave his chamber from time to time and the obnoxious sounds and giggling that escaped through his door made you shudder. You’d heard fellow maids mutter excitedly about spending a night with him and you flushed at how they could allow the prince to compromise them like that. What man would marry them if they got to know of their dalliances with the prince. Your parents were in the process of fixing a match for you in the baker’s family that supplied desserts to the kingdom. As a mere maid, you would be marrying above you and you shuddered to think what your future husband would say if he ever thought you had consorted with other men before marriage. With this in mind, you took special care to stay away from the prince and his lords, always praying you wouldn’t catch anyone’s eye.

You were excited today since you’d be accompanying the Queen and her ladies to their hunting trip. It was also rumored that Princess Virginia Potts - nicknamed Pepper - would also be joining the royal company. Everyone suspected that by the time this trip would be over, Prince Tony’s philandering ways would be over, and he would be engaged to Princess Pepper. Your mother who was not coming with you desperately prayed the royal match would be made, since she hoped that after their marriage your services would be availed by the princess and carry on after she took over as queen. Being a royal’s personal aid was an envied position and those servants who had that honor often had a superior sneer on their faces. Their jobs were more than simply attending to their masters during the day. They would also draw their baths, help them dress and accompany them to every royal event. These were the servants who ordered the other servants around and if you could make that position with the new princess, maybe it would be the baker’s boy who would be marrying above him.

Your mother’s instructions were very clear. Never be rude to any lord or lady and do their bidding without complaint. If you meet Princess Pepper, do your best to catch her eye and make her like you so that when she marries here, she’ll remember you and have you as her maid. More than that, stay away from every other man, be it lord or servant. You didn’t need whispers reaching home about you having a romp in the bushes with a stranger.

The path the hunting party was following was rough and you bemoaned your fate as you walked. The higher up servants travel on mules beside their masters, or in the palanquin with the royals if you were a personal aid. You prayed that Princess Pepper would like you so that in future you wouldn’t have to walk like a common maid. When it was announced that they will be pitching the tents for tonight and will continue deeper into the forest tomorrow, you almost moaned in relief. Your legs ached and your back hurt from carrying stuff on it for most of the day. The only thought you had was serving the ladies as fast as you could so that you could join the rest of the servants in your own tent and get some rest.

Once everyone was fed and you had seen to the comfort of the ladies, you made your way back to your tent that was pitched a little way away from the royals. It had taken longer than expected since every lady wanted extra mesh to keep the insects out or needed you to smoke coal in the corner of their tent to kill mosquitos. By the time you were done tending, almost everyone was in their own tents and only the night guards remained outside. Your tent finally came into your view when you passed the animals that were tied nearby. Walking past you noticed a water trough and paused. Your feet were dirty and itched and pouring a little water on them and cleaning the dried mud seemed like a good way to get better sleep. You approached the trough and lifted your skirt and with one hand splashed water on your feet. The cool water felt like heaven to you and so you poured some more. Between the water splashing and cicadas chirping around you, you didn’t hear anyone approach until their voice startled you.

“And who are you, taking water from my horse’s trough?” Came a masculine voice.

You started and turned around suddenly to the three men who stood behind you. Your movement was fast causing you to stumble on your wet feet and fall face first into the ground. You groaned in pain and three pair of feet rushed forward.

“Are you okay?”, someone asked and taking hold of your arm pulled you into a sitting position. Your breath almost stopped as you gazed into the eyes of Lord James Rhodes. Behind him stood Lord Steven Rogers and – your breath hitched – the prince himself.

“I – I am sorry to trouble you my lord. I am fine, thank you.” You stood up and Lord Rhodes removed his hand from your arm.

“What are you doing here at this time?” It was Lord Rogers who had asked you this and you turned your eyes downcast quickly. His reputation with the ladies was just as notorious as the prince’s.

“I was washing my feet, my lord.”

“You shouldn’t be out in the forest at this time girl. Do you want to be eaten by some wild animal?” Lord Rhodes admonished you and you shook under his glare. “Go back to your tent now and let everyone else know not to wander at night here. You get it?” You eagerly nodded and hoped they’ll leave so you can run back to your tent and die of shame.

Lord Rhodes shook his head and went away, and Lord Rogers followed him. The Prince however stayed and came closer to you.

“You’ve got mud on your face little girl”, and he took out a handkerchief which he dipped in the water and brought it to your face. You stood still, trembling as he wiped the dirt on your nose and cheeks. Once it was clean you slowly raised your eyes to him, and he sucked in a sharp breath as he beheld your bare face for the first time. His lips parted as he started at you and you gulped, taking a few hasty steps away. Your mother is going to whip you for embarrassing the family name by being such a silly ninny in front of the Prince.

“I’ll take your leave, your highness.” You dipped into a curtesy and turned away, ready to run.

“Wait!” Prince Tony said and you stopped, turning to face him again. “What’s your name?”

“Y/n, your highness” You hoped he would not ask your family name. What would your poor paa do if he ever learnt of your mishap.

“Y/n” The prince whispered your name. “Who are you serving currently?”

“The Queen’s ladies your highness”

Tony nodded and you finally turned away. You skipped into your tent, not even bothering to change out of your stained dress before sinking into the thin mattresses that served as your bed and pulling the sheets up to your chin. Your sleep that night was restless, nightmares of being banished from work plaguing you. Despite laying down later than everyone else, you still woke up early and cleaned your dress the best you could. Your supervisor would be about soon with your orders of the day and you had to be prepared.

“Get your asses moving, you lazy hens!” Your supervisor shouted and you cringed. She was a tall woman with a stern face and carried with her a thick stick that she used on the backsides of maids who didn’t work fast enough for her. She gave everyone their orders but when it was your turn for it, she frowned.

“You are Y/n?” She asked and you nodded fearfully. Perhaps she had heard of your stunt last night and was here to whip you.

“You make your way to the Prince’s tent. Your duty is with him until I tell you otherwise.”

Your mouth opened in shock and you gaped at her like a fish out of water.

“W – With the prince?” You squeaked and the supervisor glared at you.

“Don’t you go talking in that voice around his highness and the lords, girl! He has requested you and you are to serve him for the duration of the hunt. You get it? Now run along!”

You stumbled around the campsite and made your way to the Prince’s lavish tent. You couldn’t understand what was happening and you kept chewing on your lips nervously. Reaching the tent, you hesitated before entering. The royal’s tents were better than your quarters back home. The ground was evenly flattened and was covered with a rug. There was a soft mattress on a wooden frame, how they carried it here you didn’t know. The drapes of the tent were velvet and the sheets on the bed were silk. You looked around in awe.

“Ah good, you’re here.”

You jumped and looked at the Prince who you hadn’t noticed in the corner of the tent. You curtsied and he smiled at you. His hair was disheveled from sleep and his robe was open at the top, baring his chest. Head rose unbidden to your cheeks and you ducked your head quickly. Tony walked around the bed to come closer to you and stood in front of you.

“Will you fetch me my garments from the chest in the corner along with my riding gear?” He phrased the command like a question and you quickly nodded, rushing to get what he wanted. The Prince had requested you, but why. You took out his clothes and taking them in your hand you turned around and almost dropped them in fright. The Prince had removed his robe and stood only in his underwear, his hands on his waist with a smirk on his face.

“Well? Are you just going to stare at me, or will you come here and help me dress?”

You walked forward slowly. It was not entirely uncommon for a man to have female servants, but what he was asking you to do was done by personal aids. Those were generally of the same sex. You hesitated before holding open the prince’s tunic for him to slip his arms into. You pushed it on his shoulders and had to reach on your toes since he was so much taller than you. You quickly fastened his tunic and held out his trousers to him. He didn’t take them from you but only raised an eyebrow and you almost started crying. He wanted you to put them on him! You were sure he could see your shivering form as you helped him put one foot in and then the other. He had placed one hand on your shoulder to steady himself and the heat of it was burning you. Thankfully, he buttoned them himself and you fetched his riding cloak and belt.

“You’re very quiet, aren’t you?” Tony asked, and allowed you to don the cloak over him. You took the belt and wound it through the loops before buckling it. Your shaking hands made it difficult and Tony chuckled, his own hands stilling yours.

“You look like a scared kitten, little girl. Do I scare you?” He asked and you nervously raised your eyes to his. He was smiling, his handsome face only inches away from yours.

“No, your highness. I’ve just never done the work of a personal aid before.” Tony hummed and pulled you a little closer by your hands so that his front brushed against yours, only your clasped hands in between.

“You should get used to this now. You’ll be serving me in this capacity from now onwards.” He said. You nodded and tried to get out of his hold, but he held you tight. Your heart kept hammering in your chest and you almost fainted as the Prince started leaning down towards your face.

“Tony, what’s taking you so long?”

Lord Rogers entered the tent and stopped short as he looked at your frightened face inches away from the Prince’s annoyed one. He smirked and folded his hands against his chest. “I’m sorry your highness, did I interrupt something?” His tone was mocking, and you willed your tears away. What must they think of you?

“You have the worst timing Steve.” Tony harrumphed and released you from his hold. You staggered back from him and ducked your head. “This is Y/n, my new personal aid. She was only helping me buckle my belt”

Steve chucked and shot the prince an amused look. You had heard that the prince and lord Rogers were childhood friends, but they had to be seriously close for Steve to call him by his name and without formality. Tony quickly dismissed you then and told you to prepare for today’s journey. You were to travel with the prince’s group. You bobbed a curtesy and left, brushing against Lord Rogers who didn’t move from the entrance to give you way.

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You were living your worst nightmare as you walked with the other servants beside the Prince’s hunting party. You were the only woman between The Prince, his two lords and half a dozen other servants. The forest got darker the deeper you went, and you kept stumbling on long weeds and catching your clothes on low hanging branches.

“Stop!”, Lord Rhodes said raising a hand and everyone came to halt. Everyone felt silent and the eerie sounds of the forest seemed to echo. The horses shuffled nervously, and you looked around for whatever it was that Lord Rhodes had seen.

“There” Whispered Lord Rogers and pointed somewhere in the distance. You couldn’t see what they saw from their mounted height, but you stepped back cautiously. What if it was a tiger? Or a bear?

The men readied their bows and arrows and The Prince took the first shot. Notching his arrow and pulling it taut, he looked utterly determined to get his prey. His eyes were dark and focused, a hunter who wouldn’t be denied anything. The arrow sailed past the trees and you heard the sickening noise of it sinking into some animal who whined. Two of the servants rushed towards the sound and a few minutes later they dragged in one of the largest moose you’d ever seen. It was meters long with horns like spread wings. The Lords cheered in appreciation and clapped the prince on his back.

“Well, seems like you got the largest one right in the beginning your highness. I doubt anyone else will bring an animal grander than this”, Lord Rogers said, and the Prince gave him a smug smile. He looked at the dead animal and then to your surprise at you. His lips twitched and you involuntarily shuddered.

“This animal is too large for just two people to handle. Tie it up and all of you take it back to the campsite. Don’t you dare let it drag on the ground. I want everyone to see it in its glory.”

As the servants got out the ropes and started tying the moose upside down to thick logs, you breathed a sigh of relief. You preferred going back to the campsite than being near the Prince and his friends. Once it was done, the men carried the beast on their shoulders and started walking. You walked behind them, trying not to bump into them.

“Y/n, where do you think you’re going?” The Prince called out and you stopped. Turning to look at him with your hands held before you, you softly spoke.

“You said all of us are to take the animal back to the campsite, your highness.”

“All of the men. Not you.”

Your panic-stricken eyes met his and you saw him grin. Looking at the other men you noticed Lord Rhodes frowning at the prince while Lord Rogers sat on his horse in absolute amusement.

“You can’t help them carry the animal anyway. Come along, we still have to make a round around the clearing before getting back before sundown.”

You followed them in a sort of trance, sweat running down your back. Whatever the Prince had planned, you wanted no part in it. You prayed that Princess Pepper would arrive soon with her entourage so that you could get away from the overbearing presence of the Prince. Walking onwards you saw you’d reached a stream and the men dismounted to allow their horses to drink. You unloaded the flask from the horse’s side and served the men before resting against a tree. You were aware of the Prince’s gaze that had not left your person for hours now. What he found so interesting you didn’t know, but you tried your best to skirt around him without bringing more attention to yourself.

“You seem tired.” The prince suddenly arrived in front of you and jolted you into a standing position. You timidly shook your head. “Yes, yes, you do seem awfully tired. You’ve been walking all this time. But you know, I am nothing if not a benevolent prince. You’ll ride with me”

Your eyes started watering and you tried to step away but the tree at your back prevented you from doing so. The Prince placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed.

“Don’t be afraid. My horse is extremely well behaved, it won’t jolt you.” He took your hand then and dragged you unwillingly to his ride. You tried to dig your legs in the ground, but he persisted. You looked at the other two lords and though Lord Rhodes had a disapproving look in his eyes, none of them said a word as Prince Tony lifted you around the waist and swung you on the horse back. You sat side straddled and before you could make a noise, he climbed up behind you and had his hand under your chest in a tight hold. You sniffled as the Prince pulled at the reins and the horse started moving. As scared of riding the animal as you were, you were more afraid of the man sitting behind you, pulling you tight against his body.

“Your highness, please. I’ll walk” You said, your voice cracking. He was too close. His front was pressed against your back and side and you were afraid to move lest you fall.

“Nonsense. As a kind ruler, why would I allow you to walk when you can ride with me, my little girl.” You felt his head dipping low and then his nose touched your head, moving slowing down until it brushed against the back of your neck. You squirmed in his hold, terrified beyond your wits for you knew there was no one who could challenge him. You felt his breath against your skin and then his lips burned a kiss on your skin making you almost jump out of his arms.

“Be still!” He ordered sternly and pulled you back harder into him. His hand slowly caressed your side before it fondled your covered breast and you finally let your tears fall.

“Please, don’t do this.” You begged and you felt him shift behind you.

“You don’t tell me what to do little girl. The moment I saw you last night, you were meant to be mine. So, shut up and stop moving. You do not want to make me angry.” His command was hissed directly in your ear and your shoulders slumped. You raised your head an inch and saw Lord Rhodes had ridden way ahead in order to avoid seeing you. Lord Rogers however was just a few paces away, his eyes leering at you and roving over your body. Prince Tony followed your gaze and clenched his jaw.

“Steve, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll avert those eyes right now. Don’t let me catch you looking at her again. She’s not to be shared. This one is mine.” He said gruffly and immediately Lord Rogers straightened and urged his horse faster to go behind Lord Rhodes.

The Prince hugged you, resting his chin on your head.

“No one else will have you. I can almost smell your innocence, its so palpable. Only I’ll have you. No one else will defile you. You’re mine. Only mine.”

You returned to the campsite in the Prince’s arms, his slow touches all over your belly and chest. He had pressed his lips on your neck and his beard had scraped against your skin. You had felt his arousal against your back, and you were mortified. You had to escape from here in the cover of the night and go back home. You will tell your parents and run away to some other kingdom.

You had asked to be let off a little away from the campsite so no one will catch you riding with the Prince. He had seemed utterly reluctant but then he let you down and allowed you to walk the rest of the way. Once there you quickly rejoined the other servants while everyone returned. You tried your best to keep yourself busy with the work and assisted others in making beds and collecting wood. You were picking off leaves from the hem of ladies’ dresses when your supervisor charged towards you puffing like an enraged bull.

“You girl! What the devil are you doing here? Didn’t I assign you to the Prince? He’s expecting you in his tent! Leave that dress and scram!” She shouted. You hid behind the dress in fear.

“Please madam, I am sick. The forest didn’t agree with me and I am afraid I’ll get sick before the prince. I cannot do him that disservice.” You said, trying to sound like you really were sick. It wasn’t very difficult since the very moment the Prince put his hands on you, you felt bile rise in you.

“Silly child! Why the hell does palace employees incompetent servants like you I don’t know! Go make yourself scarce! Don’t you dare puke on anything, or I’ll tan your hide with my stick. GO!”

You scampered away as fast as you could, offering to wash the dishes and stay out of view. You were thankful that everyone would be tired after a long day and would retire soon. You’ll pack yourself some meager supplies and run away once everyone was asleep. Come morning when they’ll realize you’re missing, you’d be home and on the run. You will not be the Prince’s plaything. Your mother would understand. She would arrange for some relative to take you in.

You took your leave early, scarfing down some food and laying in bed so no one would disturb you. By the time the beds around you filled with other maids, they already believed you were asleep. Soon their snoring filled the tent and after waiting for some more time you crept out of your bed. You quickly tied some food and a flask in your satchel and moved out on tippy toes. The night was silent, and you gave a relived sigh because no guards were placed before the servant’s tents. Quiet as a mouse you scurried through the dark to the path you’d taken while getting here. You didn’t want to travel at night but you’d rather brave the dark than let someone ruin you.

You kept to the edge of the path, hoping that if anyone passed by, you’ll jump into the trees and hide. How did your life take this turn? You were supposed to marry a baker’s boy, maybe get the opportunity to serve the new princess. Your life was supposed to be simple. Go to work, manage your house, and husband and give him a few children every few years. Its what your mother taught you. You didn’t wear dresses that showed your bosom like some other maids, you didn’t style your hair or steal cologne from the ladies’ room. You were a good girl, keeping her virtue for her husband like you’d been taught to.

So lost were you in your thoughts that you didn’t notice the figure waiting for you in the dark. You stumbled and fell straight into the arms of the very man you were running from. The moonlight glossed over Prince Tony’s face and you gasped in fear, kicking your hands and legs that he quickly held in his own. His eyes were angry, and rage was clear on his face.

“Little girl, I was told you are sick.” He said in a dangerous voice. His hands tightened around your own while you looked at him with a sense of doom.

“Y – your highness” You whimpered, and he growled. Quicker than you could know what was happening, you were dragged into the trees and pushed against one, Prince Tony’s hands on either side of you. Caged.

“You dare to run away from me, your master, your Prince?” He said through gritted teeth, his hands curling into fists and you trembled. He took your hands in one of his and pushed them above your head, the other hand covering your mouth the moment you opened it to scream. “You going to call for help, my little girl? Who’s going to help you? Hmm?”

Silent tears trailed down your cheeks and the sparse moonlight illuminated them. The Prince breathed deeply, his eyes taking in your delicate form. Leaning down he licked those tears away and you sobbed behind his hand and closed your eyes.

“I’ll remove my hand now. If you scream, I’ll gag you with a cloth. Or would you prefer my cock?”

His vulgar words made your body shudder and heat rise in your face. You shook you head, and he slowly took his hands from your mouth and cradled your face. He kissed you hard, his lips punishing with barely suppressed anger. You struggled in his hold, but he didn’t let up, forcing you to accept his kiss. Accept him.

“You’re mine. You can’t run away from me. I’ll have you and if you dare try to escape, I’ll have you chained to my bed.” He vowed. You gave a pained cry and wiggled your wrists that were bruising in his grip. He let them go and examined them gently, a complete contrast to a moment ago. “You must remember not to make me mad. I can be kind to you. You’re my little girl.”

He kissed your abused wrists and then your fingers. Your breathing returned to normal under his gentle ministrations. He pulled you into his arms, head resting on top of yours.

“When I saw you last night, it felt as if I’d woken up from a dream. I had never seen a girl as beautiful as you. Every pore of you reflected your innocence, just waiting to be defiled by me. You were mine from that very moment. You are meant for me and I will have you. You will stay with me and bear my heirs.”

You pushed at his chest and shoulders.

“Your highness, please let me go. You are meant to marry Princess Virginia. I am just a maid.”

Tony looked at you in disapproval and one of his hand clutched your head and tilted your head so he could kiss you breathless again.

“I will marry whoever I choose to marry. You will be my princess and when I take the throne you will be my queen. You’ll rule by my side and share my bed.”

“Your Highness –”

“Your Prince!”

“My Prince, please. I am a lowly maid. I will marry the baker’s son and you will marry a princess.”

You thought you could make him see reason. You thought he would understand but the next moment you were back against the tree with a hand against your throat.

“Marry a baker’s boy?!” He thundered and you whined under his hold. “I will burn down this whole kingdom and cut open every last man who dares look at you. You are mine!” He bent to look deep into your eyes and your heart stopped. In his eyes was the same look he had when he hunted that moose. He was the hunter and you were his prey. He will not be denied.

He roughly pushed away from the tree and taking your hand hauled you towards his horse. You were too scared to fight, too scared to cry. You kept your eyes downcast and hoped lightening would strike you out of your misery. You rode back to the campsite with him, not saying a word. His hands were steel bands around you, and you thought he would never let go. Once you reached there, he got off his horse and rather than putting you on the ground carried you in his arms to his tent. Lord Rogers stood outside with a torch in his hands and perked up when he saw you both.

“Steve, I want no guards outside my tent. No one enters or interrupts me tonight.” The prince ordered and Lord Rogers nodded. He gave you a sardonic smile as the prince carried you inside, the flap shutting behind you both. Placing you down on his soft mattress Prince Tony finally let you go. He cupped your face and gazed into your eyes.

“You’ll call me Tony from now onwards. When we’re with others, it will be My Prince. Starting from this night, your whole being would be devoted to me and me alone. You will not look at any other man and if any other man looks at you, you will tell me. It that clear?” He asked you and you nodded. He smiled then, the hardness leaving his face. He kissed you slowly, letting you feel him inside your mouth. His hands traveled from your face to your shoulder and then to the buttons on your dress, undoing each. You pressed your hands against his chest and pushed and Tony pulled away with an annoyed frown.

“Little girl, are you denying your prince?”

You shook your head and looked at him pleadingly.

“My Prince” You breathed and then corrected yourself. “Tony, we cannot do this. You are a Prince, no one would dare cross you. But I will be rejected by the society for losing my virtue to a man not my husband. The King and Queen will not accept me, and I would be cast aside. I’ll be ruined.”

Tony’s eyes turned liquid and a look of utter tenderness overcame his features. He sat down next to you and took you in his lap, your head on his shoulder.

“My little girl, my princess, I would not cast you aside. Mother and father will have to accept you. They will, once I tell them you are carrying my heir.”

You wanted to curse and cry but settled for weeping in Tony’s neck. Nothing could be done now. He will have you and he aims to keep you. More than that, he wants you to be with child so that he can marry you. You will never be able to look your mother in the eyes again. You let Tony push you on your back and climb over you.

He took off your dress and helped you unlace your corset and remove your stockings. Left only in your threadbare chemise, you shivered in embarrassment. No man had ever seen you like this. You watched Tony relieve himself of his clothes and when he removed his underpants your eyes widened in shock. If he puts that thing inside you, you will die, you were sure of it. Tony chuckled at your reaction to his cock and stroked it, making it larger and harder and it seemed like you would faint.

“Don’t worry little girl, I’ll be gentle with you tonight. You’ve been a good girl, haven’t you? You’ve kept yourself for me, so I’ll be good to you in turn. It’s your first time so I won’t take your mouth, only your maidenhead. You will be mine in every way possible.”

He slotted himself between your legs and parted your thighs. Cold air hit your quim and Tony took a moment to admire you before licking a straight strip from your entrance to your nub. You trashed at the unfamiliar feeling, and Tony held you down and got to work on you. His tongue swirled in circles over your bud, making vibrations run through your body like lightening. His finger very gently probed your untouched entrance and glided in smoothly because of how wet you had gotten. He ate you out, thrusting his tongue in and out until you released in his mouth with a muffled scream. You didn’t know laying with a man would feel good. Older women often described it as a chore, but you felt like you were floating.

Kissing your thighs and your belly, Tony removed your chemise to stick his tongue in your belly button before laving it on your breasts. He fondled them and sucked your sensitive nipples, making you cry out when he bit on them.

“These will nurse our children, and after you’re done feeding them, you will nurse me.”

His words got you hot and tingles shot through your spine and settled between your legs. Taking your hands, he put them around him, kissing you deep and long and leaving bites all along your neck and chest. He lined himself him your entrance and looked into your eyes.

“Keep those eyes on me, I want to see them when I make you mine.”

He pushed in, stretching you wider and wider, every inch leaving you gasping in pain. He was careful not to rush and when after what felt like forever, he stopped, you looked in his eyes to see them blown almost black with lust. His touch was possessive, and he thrust slowly as first, letting you get used to it and to ease your pain. You let out a little moan when he brushed against your bud and he growled in triumph before he took you like a man possessed. His thrusts were harder and deeper, his balls slapping you in your ass. He kissed you wherever he could and despite how much you hated being caught in this situation, you moaned.

“I’m going to fill you up now and then again and again. I’ll fill you until you’re round with my child. I’ll fill every hole of your body with my essence until you stink of me. You will be my wife, my princess, my queen and the mother of my children.”

Pinching your bud, you came for the second time, clamping down on him and triggering his own release. You felt warmth blossom inside you with his seed and he gave a few more thrusts before stilling. Pulling out, he lay beside you and took you in his arms. He kissed your head and then your lips before resting you on his chest.

“You have been excused from all your duties as a maid. The only thing you’ll be doing from now on is me.”

#dark!tony x reader #dark!tony stark x reader #dark tony x reader #tony x reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader

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anyoneseenadam · 3 years

Text

The Moon Spirit - two

Dorian x reader, Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)

Description: When you’re taught to be a queen from such a young age, nothing could go wrong. But when the king starts to fear your growing power you find yourself thrust into a world of faeries, evil magic and powerful men, learning to stand on your own can be harder than it seems.

warnings: blood, graphic descriptions of violence, objectification, gross old men, Dorian is a ball of love and niceness however, angst, fluff, possibly smut in later chapters

word count: 2.9k

a/n: oof the plans i have for this series omg!! i hope you like this pls comment and tell me what u think and also feel free to give any ideas/ theories i love getting that sm!! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

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Finding a place to get a drink was easier said than done.

You had ridden along the cold, barren road for hours – your only company being the birds singing above you, the horse moving below you and the small bundle of content wrapped in your arms who had fallen asleep in your arms in seconds, occasionally yawning widely. And through those hours you had met no one and seen no place to stop.

You eventually had to stop, exhaustion slowing you down. You moved off course and tied your horse to a tree next to a small stream, running a comforting hand through its mane as it drank slowly. You slowly stripped off as well, taking your time as you removed the blood-soaked layers from your skin. Once you were bare, shivering in the cool morning air, you stepped slowly into the stream – swearing enough to make a sailor blush.

However, you relented, running your hands over your skin, wiping away the guards’ blood with a heavy heart as the water turned pink. Your whole body ached, yet you were numb. Men were dead because of you, and - if he hadn’t already – Dorian would hear of your disappearance soon. And then the king would pick him a new bride, and you would be forgotten.

Just as intended.

Amaris was mewling behind you, hungry and cold, wondering why you had left. Or maybe that was just you, maybe you were projecting. You climbed out of the water, pulling your undergarments back on as you found a sunny patch to sit in, allowing the newly risen sun to cleanse away the remnants of the night, drying your skin slowly.

After half an hour of silent tears you picked yourself back up, pulling on your stiff clothes and climbing onto your horse as you set off again. You couldn’t just lie down and die, no matter how much you wanted to, you had to look after your last gift from Dorian, and you had look after yourself.

You ended up riding for hours more before you wandered into a small town. Dismounting, you led your horse through the town as you searched for a place to get food and maybe clean clothes, glaring down your nose at anyone who stared to long. Much like Dorian used to.

No. You tried to expel the thought of him from your head, not needing to be swept up in the thought of his forget-me-not eyes, nor did you need to remember that you may never get to look into them again.

What you needed was the tavern you could see at the end of the street.

You pushed through the street, ignoring the townspeople as you moved to the stables beside the tavern, giving your horse rest, food, and water. You hid Amaris in your coat as you moved into the tavern – back straight and head high as you walked.

The bar quietened down when you moved in, a small sprout woman pausing handing out drinks as she stared at you over a high skew nose. The bar smelt of sour whisky and piss, the surfaces barely visible beneath the dirt that covered every surface – the only source of light coming from tall candles that had been stuffed into wine bottles. The curtains over the windows were drawn tight, not allowing any other light in and the people in the bar all looked remarkably similar, tired. The woman behind the bar was petite, with a face alike a weasel and when she spoke you discovered her voice was just as shrill as you expected.

“And who do you think you are?” she moved in front of the bar, walking towards you as you levelled your gaze.

“I’m no one.” You replied, the answer vague enough that she hopefully wouldn’t try again.

“Then what do you want?” she was exasperated as she spoke, and you allowed yourself a moment of reprise as you glanced down at your clothes.

“A drink would be nice,” your voice was curt, tired. The small lady rolled her eyes, moving away as you approached the bar, allowing her to pour you a glass of cheap, hard liquor.

She slid it towards you, and you knocked it back quickly. “Do you also have fresh clothes and maybe some food for me and my cat?”

As she left with an eye roll, a man approached you, his hairline receding and breath fowl as he slung an arm around your shoulder, leaning far too close for your comfort as you trained your eyes forward.

“I can offer you a job,” he nodded his head and you looked over to see his eyes trained on the prostitutes in the corner, “I’ll even offer a free trial. To get you started.”

You felt panic rise like bile in your throat, your entire body tensing as you shoved this man’s arm of your shoulder. You calmed your face – unwilling to let any emotion show as you faced him.

“You couldn’t afford me,” you snarled, pushing down the heat growing in you as the curious eyes of the towns’ folk were once again turned on you.

“You bitch!” the man began shouting but was cut off by the shrill woman’s return. She unceremoniously dumped a pile of clothes in your lap, along with a small loaf and some fish, her gaze expectant.

You loosened the bracelet around your wrist, dropping it into her hand as she stared at the large jewels adorning it.

“That should cover it.” you muttered as you stood, keeping your gaze angry and forward as you shouldered past the burly man. You bundled the clothing and food in one hand, the other still holding Amaris tight to your chest as you left the dirty tavern.

You found your horse again, offloading the goods you had received into the worn satchels on its side – leading it out of the barn slowly, desperate to get out of this town.

Dorian was a mess.

He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, could barely speak anymore. It was enough to lose you, but to then realise that his own father had driven you away. His own father had made you feel so unsafe in your own home that you couldn’t even run to him, his father had made you feel so completely isolated that your only choice was to flee.

Chaol was trying to coax him back into civilised life, his brother mourning the loss of his friend, yet itching to find you. And level-headed as always, Chaol knew that wouldn’t happen with Dorian spending his days drinking or in bed – often both.

But Dorian didn’t know how to cope, he didn’t know how to plaster on a smile and pretend everything was okay. That was your specialty.

Almost a month had passed, and you certainly were nowhere to be seen. You weren’t coming home anytime soon and he was going to have to learn how to live without you eventually.

Every morning he woke up, a part of him hoped it was a bad dream, that you would be asleep in his arms, or giggling and pressing dizzying kisses into his jaw. He hoped one day he would just wake up and you would wrap your arms tight around his shoulders, tell him it was just a nightmare and stroke his hair until he fell back asleep.

But he knew that couldn’t happen, that life wasn’t kind enough to return his bride to him and so instead he chose to numb his thoughts. He ignored the flirty eyes of other woman, unable to look at them in their expensive dresses and jewels without his mind returning to you.

Everyday that passed without you hurt that much more, so when he sat on his throne as Chaol approached him with a beautiful but deadly woman, he decided since he couldn’t have his perfect woman, he must find her opposite. He couldn’t be who he was before – so he must become someone new.

You weren’t faring much better. The day you had left the bar, you had ridden all the way to the coast of Terrasan and had climbed onto the first boat to Doranelle. By the time you arrived in the city you had just about sold anything of value on your person and all you had left to sell was the poor horse you had taken away.

By the time it was just you and Amaris, you had acquired a small flat in the city – the walls were bare and there was only simple furniture in it, the mattress on the floor next to large windows, and worn cushions on a makeshift sofa next to a wooden table.

Every night Amaris crawled into bed next to you, licking away salty tears from your face as you pulled the thin, scratchy sheet closer over you – hoping to replicate even a shred of Dorian’s warmth, or the feeling of his arms wrapped secure around your waist. Most nights you didn’t sleep, the bags growing under your eyes as your heart slowly numbed. Amaris would bury himself in the warmth of your chest as your eyes blurred, watching the city move outside of your flat – the noise subdued and calming.

On the third day in the new city you set out to find work, desperate to find something that could numb the thoughts in your mind and make the days easier. Plus you were sick of grabbing the easiest food you could find. You found yourself walking to a library, deciding it would be the perfect mixture of solitude and work for you. And it helped that you had spent most your life reading, many nights curled under Dorians arms as you read your separate books – occasionally reciting a line to the other.

The old man at the front of the library was kind, his face wrinkled from easy smiles, and you could understand why his long, long life seemed so pleasing. The bookshelves were tall, dizzyingly tall, and filled with countless books that you wished you could search through for hours. There were also tall, stained windows lining the walls, letting in the beautiful morning light and showing how the dust danced around the room.

“So what brings you here?” he asked, moving around the desk he sat at and motioning for you to take a seat on the small, cushioned seats next to him.

You sat down gently, back straight but keeping your eyes trained on your neatly folded hands. “I need work, sir. I have very good qualifications and have been educated by the best.”

He laughed slightly at that, “That much is clear, my child. But I asked what brings you here? What is your story?”

You looked up to meet his eyes, unable to stop the pain that they revealed, and he took your hands gently in his warm ones, “The world has treated you poorly I see.”

You felt tears build in your eyes – this kindness so alien to your battered heart you couldn’t help yourself as you let out a soft sob. The man smiled kindly at you, squeezing your hands gently as he urged you to talk to him.

“I was f-forced to leave the man I loved,” you choked out, “his father tried to… hurt me.” Your explanation was an over-simplification, but you feared what may occur if you revealed the truth.

“Was he your mate?” the man asked kindly, and you shook your head.

“I am not Fae,” you explained, and he frowned, passing you his handkerchief as he stood.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, retrieving a small, hand-held mirror, and handing it to you. You took it with a confused expression before looking in, gasping under your breath as you saw your ears had taken on a delicate point.

“I, I don’t- that’s not possible.” You shook your head, eyes wide as they met his.

“Where do you come from child?” he voice was gentle as he took in your shock.

“Adarlan.” You whispered and he smiled sympathetically.

“Then I believe a glamour has been removed recently.” You could feel yourself shaking, the weight of the knowledge hitting you. “Let me take a name dear, you can start work tomorrow, we’ve been needing some extra hands around here.”

“(y/n) (y/l/n)” your voice was small as you stood, shaking his hand lightly. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem and remember when you work you can have a read through any book you like. Aisle sixteen contains many on the ancient spirits.” He looked down to your necklace pointedly and you bit your tongue so hard you tasted blood, desperate to not reveal any more than you already had.

“Thank you…” you trailed off and he smiled,

“Albert,” he finished for you. “And make sure to take care on your way home, this city is filled with powerful people, you would be smart to not mix with them.”

You nodded, pocketing the information in your mind, ready to add it to your list of rules.

Fenrys was tired. He had just gotten home from a month-long mission and all he wanted was to sleep, however he wasn’t quite ready to face Maeve yet and instead he decided to take a trip to his favourite library before she realised he was back.

He was walking in when he saw you, your eyes red but hopeful and he almost fell over at the sight of you. You were wearing common clothes but held yourself like royalty, head high and gaze ready to tear down a man who so much as looked at you wrong.

What he did next he wasn’t exactly proud of, but he needed an excuse, so he was willing to play his hand a bit. “Excuse me miss, do you happen to know where I could find the tilted goose?” your eyes widened when you saw him, fuelling his ego slightly.

He knew where the tilted goose was of course, it was one of his favourite bars, but you didn’t have to know that.

“Oh yeah, it’s just down this way. I’m walking that way I’ll show you,” your voice was like music to his ears, and he smiled, revelling in how you avoided his gaze, clearly intimidated by his stature.

“Thank you so much…?” he asked, and you smiled, softly, subdued.

“(y/n),” you stared walking in the correct direction, and he grinned.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful lady. Fenrys.” He placed a hand to his chest as you laughed lightly.

“Quite a flirt aren’t you?” you asked, eyes sparkling.

“Can’t help myself, I’m not sure I’ve ever met such a beautiful woman.” He looked down to you as he fell into step beside you, noticing that you were taking a much longer way than needed. “You new here?”

“How’d you tell?” your tone was self-deprecating, and he laughed.

“This way takes about five minutes longer.” He stated and you whirled around, pointing a finger accusingly.

“You know how to get there.” He felt his face heat up as he raised his hands sheepishly.

“Maybe…” he grinned, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you began to storm off.

“See you around princess!” he called after you, almost missing the way your shoulders stiffened momentarily before you called over your shoulder.

“You’d be so lucky!” you replied, pace quickening as he watched you climb a set of stars that led to some run-down apartments.

He laughed, the smiled on his face coming naturally and surprising him. Oh his life was about to get much better.

You shouldn’t have enjoyed the pretty man’s company. And you hated yourself for it.

But he was so kind and for five minutes he made you feel normal again, loved again. See you around princess! The words wouldn’t stop replaying in you head. You weren’t allowed to be a normal girl; you were a princess, and you were on the run, and you definitely had no time for handsome men who flirted with you.

You couldn’t betray Dorian like that, he was probably waiting for you to come home. And you planned to. You would build your strength and you would learn to fight, and you would tear the king to shreds.

But for now, you had to settle for getting through each day, and that meant you had no time for handsome distractions. As you steeled your nerves you felt the loneliness settle on your shoulders, wrapping around you like a shadow, and you fought to reach deep inside yourself, finding the sliver of magic that was curled up – dormant – inside of you.

You found it and fought to awaken it, only receiving a shard of the true power. You stood in front of the dirty mirror in your bathroom, taking in your newly pointed ears and watching as your necklace glowed gently, your eyes turning silver as you released a small amount magic, watching as the bright light shattered the mirror in front of you.

Your eyes widened at the loud noise and with a flinch the magic was gone, the only proof it was even there was the shattered mirror in front of you.

You stared back at the cracked reflection and squared your shoulders. You were going to train, you were going to fight, and you were going to win. Even if it broke you.

#throne of glass #dorian havilliard #dorian x reader #dorian havilliard x reader #fenrys x reader #fenrys moonbeam #fenrys moonbeam x reader

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lady-z-writes · 3 years

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What Lies Beneath - Chapter 1 (Heisenberg x Reader) (Heisenberg x OC)

Posting this here too! Feel free to subscribe on AO3.

Chapter 1 is up of my new Heisenberg/reader (Heisenberg/OC) story.

Summary: A trip to a neighboring village introduces Heisenberg to Reader – a Cadou experiment that didn’t quite meet Miranda’s standards. Reader was told to stay away from the Lords – as her powers will only make them weaker – but there’s something alluring about this rugged man, especially when he’s between her thighs.

Boot stomps sound through the halls of the church, their echoes drown out by the yelling in the lobby. Heisenberg lights a cigar as he shoves through the doors, returning to the brisk winter air.

“Fuckin’ idiots,” he mutters, stomping through the snow.

Every ‘family’ meeting is rough, each one getting harder to hide his disdain for his ‘mother.’ But today…especially today, given the timing of things.

Heisenberg doesn’t remember much about his childhood before Miranda, but he remembers that trip his dad took him on – it was around this time of year. It was a time when his dad could break away from the factory, trek through the mountains until they hit a nearby village where they spent some time fishing. That’s all he remembers…some big snowstorm, a collapsing snowdrift almost taking them out, and fishing. Other than that, it’s all blank.

Days like this make it impossible to get passed that resentment he feels toward Miranda. Snowy weather leaves him wondering just how many fishing trips his dad planned to take him on before he was killed, before his son was experimented on, before the whole village went to shit thanks to that bitch.

The cold air and the cigar should make his lungs ache, but he’s so used to it by now. Coat billowing around him, he makes a rash decision and takes a right toward the southernmost mountains.

It isn’t often that he can sneak away from the ‘family’ without anyone knowing. He’d only been away for a while once and thankfully Moreau covered for him when they questioned his absence. If Moreau actually thought he was with him is another question entirely.

The one trip he took led him to the wrong place – no village in sight and by the time he arrived back, it was too late to try another path before the questioning began from his ‘family.’

'Where were you?’

'Why did you miss a meeting?’

'Mother is pissed.’

'Did you get lost in that factory?’

This time around, he had a better plan: got ahold of some old maps left behind in the village, plotted out his path and where his assumption was for the other village, waited until the opportune moment to leave town for a bit. And the opportune moment was directly after a meeting.

He didn’t know exactly what he wanted when he found it. Surely there’s no father to go fishing with so what’s the point?

The point is that he shouldn’t be confined to this stupid village, shouldn’t be one of Miranda’s toys, should be finite and human – not a monster. The point is that he’s chasing something and that probably says a lot about him and needs unburied, but now is not the time for self-counseling.

The climb through the mountains is exhausting, even for him, but he keeps pushing through just in case he ends up empty again, in case the village doesn’t exist in this area either.

The journey makes him start to doubt again, like he’s done so many nights before: maybe this isn’t his memory, but something else entirely. Maybe this was just a story he was told as a child; one that his young imagination ran wild with. Maybe…

A few hours into the journey, several cigars later, frozen limbs, and a sopping wet jacket, and he spots it: several rooftops through the clearing. He lets out a huff then a laugh as his feet carry him forward.

So, it did exist…this whole time…

Thought leaves him as soon as he hears a growl in the distance. Hammer at the ready, he doesn’t even have time to attack when he’s knocked off his feet by something he can only describe as Lycan-adjacent.

The antlers are what get him – stab at his neck before he swings his hammer to knock it off. And then he’s running – dodging trees because, oh fuck, that thing got right back up.

The village comes into view quickly after a few more run-ins with this antler-beast. It charges him again only for him to dodge, grab it by the antlers, and snap them like a wishbone. Blood pools as he slowly backs away, watching the dying thing twitch in the snow.

Sauntering on, he swings his hammer back over his shoulder, touches his throat wound with a ‘huh’ leaving his lips.

Odd.

An abandoned house sits near where he remembers fishing with his father, but he can’t remember what this used to be. Everything seen with fresh eyes, it seems like a lifetime ago – feels more like a dream than reality.

He continues on.

“You’re a fresh face,” comes a voice, almost startling him. Almost.

Spinning on his heels, he shifts his hammer, scans around. A thin womanly figure floats down from out of a tree. She’s cloaked in moss and tree bark, her features soft and almost kind. Heisenberg doesn’t lower his hammer.

“Such a bad day for traveling,” though she doesn’t seem to be affected by the cold, Heisenberg sniffles at her. “What are you doing out here, stranger?”

“Just out for a stroll,” he drawls. “Passing through.”

She steps closer and he steps back, aware that there’s nowhere to board up except the abandoned house. The tree woman extends her palms forward in an almost-innocence.

“Let me take you somewhere nice,” she motions behind her, as if that tree is ‘somewhere nice.’ Heisenberg doesn’t want to find out what she means. “Handsome guy like you…I could indulge in.”

He’s about to swing his hammer when he goes toppling to the ground again, the Earth feeling like it’s shifting beneath him – a dizzying in his head as he fights off another one of those antler-creatures.

Shifting his hand, he can feel the metal from objects inside the abandoned house. With a blink, they go flying through the air to impale the beast atop him. Growling sounds louder, foot stomps, and then a puncture to his neck. It’s not an antler this time, doesn’t feel as thick or grating, and when he looks out of the corner of his eye it’s the tree-lady crouched over him with a needle poking from her wrist into his neck.

Shoving her off then rising to his feet, he collects himself, pulls the metal scraps to float around him, but falters in a dizzy spell.

The tree woman laughs. “Much mightier than I thought. And powers, too!”

Blinking hard, Heisenberg sways on his feet, slamming his hammer down to catch himself. Breaths coming out ragged, he lowers his head to his hands.

This can’t be happening.

Shoving the metal forward as best he can, he realizes that he’s missed: the woman is beside him now.

“Aw, poor man,” she’s seductive suddenly, reaching for him, touching his arm. She seems to ignore the horned beasts surrounding them – or, rather, they ignore her. “Don’t you want to come and warm up?”

He wants to shove her off, but his body isn’t functioning properly. He feels like he’s stuck in a trance. Fingers twitching to shift the metal around them, he manages to kill one of the beasts before she grips his jacket and pulls him closer.

“You bitch,” he huffs, feeling her body pressed against him, his own reacting to their proximity.

She laughs. “Don’t fight it, sugar. You could use a nice release, couldn’t you? So pent up.”

Her lips are pressing to his and it’s almost as if he’s completely lost control. Her taste is exquisite, enticing, he can’t get enough. The hammer falls to the snow as he kisses her back, hand trailing behind her, pulling her into him harshly. A low moan leaves him but it sounds far away. Feeling is leaving his fingers – from the cold or something else, he isn’t sure. All he knows is he needs this.

“Serena, stop!” comes a yell from behind them and it feels like a slap to the face.

The beasts are no longer tame, but they growl in place.

Heisenberg is shoved back as another woman steps in between him and this tree woman Serena. His hands are grabbing for her though – contact, he needs contact – but they fall short and land on this new woman. He can’t seem to stop himself.

“Leave us alone, [Y/N]! This has nothing to do with you,” the tree woman Serena says.

[Y/N]? Heisenberg isn’t familiar…

Breaths are coming out in deep huffs like he’s been running. His head is foggy, trance-like still.

“Do you have any idea who this is?” [Y/N] asks, a small squeak leaving her as he loops his fingers up under her shirt, traces his calloused hands over her belly, inching up toward her breasts, dips his head to the crook of her neck.

“No, but my pheromones seem to work well on him. I was so close to total control.”

He’s sort of aware of this comment from the plant lady – enough that he pulls back from [Y/N] completely.

[Y/N] turns to him then, presses her hands to his shoulders. “Snap out of it,” she urges, “focus.”

Heisenberg finds himself staring into her eyes, focusing on the surroundings, has so many damn questions right now, but the scene before him keeps spinning.

Serena takes a swing at [Y/N] but she dodges, ducks under her blast of whatever-the-fuck-petals-those-are, and delivers a strong punch to her face. As the girls fight, Heisenberg blinks heavily and tries to shake this trance off.

Wide eyes stare into the snow as he’s a little embarrassed by the pants tent he’s currently sporting. Jesus. Fuck.

Anger pounds through him, his hand quickly snapping for his hammer…only it doesn’t work. A nervous gaze is shot to the women but he realizes that the tree lady isn’t using her powers either. He has a sinking feeling as he tries to force the metal pieces to float again.

Hoisting his hammer up the old-fashioned way, he realizes its weight.

“Duck,” he tells [Y/N], shoving her out of the way before delivering a blow to this tree lady, knocking her out.

[Y/N] stands back then, sees the anger flash in Heisenberg’s eyes. The antlered beasts still growl in place.

“Talk,” he snaps. “Now.”

“Your teeth are chattering,” she acknowledges. “Can’t we at least-”

“I said talk,” he slams the hammer down in the snow.

A nod. “Serena,” she nods over to the moss-covered lady on the ground. “She’s…we’re all…” she shakes her head then finishes with, “-like you.”

He can feel his shaking now, attributes it to this news when it could full-well be from the cold.

“Cadou?” he asks to which she nods. “Fuck.” He runs a hand down his face then shoves his hands in his pockets to keep them warm and to hide the half-chub he’s still got. “Where the Hell did my powers go?”

She looks sheepish. “I have everything to do with that.” At this, he reaches for his hammer again. “I-I didn’t take them or something, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He doesn’t look convinced. She sighs. “Here.” She steps backwards about 15 feet. “Try now.”

Begrudgingly, he removes his fists from his pockets and his hammer flies into his hand instantly. With a blink, he watches the metal pieces float up around him then rain back down into the snow.

Ah. So she can block power…

He remains silent which clearly makes her a little uneasy so she starts speaking again.

“Serena is a Dryad,” she announces as if he’s supposed to know what the fuck that is. “She has power over plants. You got to experience her pheromones…” she looks him over, eyes landing on his half-chub before she inhales and looks elsewhere.

“And what do they call you?” he steps closer.

“They don’t have a term for me. I…wasn’t given enough time…” she looks away, steps until her back is to the abandoned house.

He’s close, peering down at her. “And what are they,” he thumbs behind him.

“Wendigo,” she breathes out. He doesn’t reply. “She feeds them…” Heisenberg nods, grabs a cigar from his pocket, lights it, turns to walk away. “Where are you going?”

When he’s far enough away from the power cockblock, he pulls his hammer to him again, slicing up the Wendigos with his metal until there’s a heap of bodies around his feet. That should stop them from following.

[Y/N] tries to not let her surprise and approval show in her expression as she watches him, but he sees a small quirk of her eyebrow. Exhaling smoke, he takes another drag then starts coughing from the cold air.

“Powers or not, this weather isn’t good for you,” [Y/N] sighs.

“What, are you the ruler here? Kicking me out so soon?” he swings his hammer over his shoulder.

“We have no ruler, just…a monitor,” she shakes her head, turns, stops herself from saying more. “What is your business here, Lord Heisenberg?”

“Ah, so you do know me. Different village, yet word travels, hm?”

“You…don’t know of this place, do you?” at her question, he bites down the memories of his father. “Come, we have much to discuss.” As she begins walking, she doesn’t hear his footsteps following behind. She turns, tries another angle, “Or I could get Serena back up and she could show you more of her powers. Trust me, you don’t want her spores getting…other places. You’d have greater concerns than an awkward boner.”

Heisenberg can feel his cheeks heating up.

“Mouthy little bitch, aren’t you?”

She holds her hands up in innocence. “Just looking out for a mighty ruler.” She laughs. “Shall I start a fire or would you rather freeze your ass off out here? Maybe you need a minute to cool off – like a cold shower.”

He can’t help the laugh that comes from his throat at her quips.

“Spunky. I like you.”

[Y/N] inhales sharply, surprised and flattered.

And so begins their silent walk – Heisenberg trailing further behind just in case his powers are needed. The village is bigger than he remembers, though he doesn’t remember much.

[Y/N] picks up the wood she’d left outside of her door right before Heisenberg’s run-in with Serena and the Wendigo. If her fire hadn’t died, she wouldn’t have seen the pack of Wendigo charging down the hill at them. Any slower and Serena may have gotten her claws into him to use at her command.

Sometimes these powers come in handy, despite what Mother Miranda may think.

#karl heisenberg #heisenberg x oc #heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x oc

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renegadewangs · 3 years

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Van Zieks - the Examination, part 4

Warnings: SPOILERS for The Great Ace Attorney: Chronicles. Additional warning for racist sentiments uttered by fictional characters (and screencaps to show these sentiments).

Disclaimer: (see Part 1 for the more detailed disclaimer.) - These posts are not meant to be taken as fact. Everything I’m outlining stems from my own views and experiences. If you believe that I’ve missed or misinterpreted something, please let me know so I can edit the post accordingly. -The purpose of these posts is an analysis, nothing more. Please do not come into these posts expecting me to either defend Barok van Zieks from haters, nor expecting me to encourage the hatred. - I’m using the Western release of The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles for these posts, but may refer to the original Japanese dialogue of Dai Gyakuten Saiban if needed to compare what’s said. This also means I’m using the localized names and localized romanization of the names to stay consistent. -It doesn’t matter one bit to me whether you like Barok van Zieks or dislike him. However, I will ask that everyone who comments refrains from attacking real, actual people.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

It’s time to take a close look at Episode 2 of the second game, The Memoirs of the Clouded Kokoro!

Episode 2-2: The Memoirs of the Clouded Kokoro

Remember how in the last episode we vaguely got Barok on our side near the end of the trial by proving Mrs. Garrideb was actually involved in the crime? … Yeah. Forget that progress. It's being undone. Case 2-2 is the first case of the second game which features Barok, which unfortunately means he needs to be 'reintroduced' to the audience and it takes him back several steps in his growth. It makes sense, I suppose, it would've been weird starting a new game with him already being lightly on Ryu's side. Even so, it's a bit insulting how this case acts as if the chronologically previous one accomplished nothing.

So anyway, this case flashbacks to something which supposedly happened right after the first game's fourth case. The day after Soseki's acquittal, even. Turns out, Soseki awoke to find one of the other tenants in his building dead and asked Ryu for help, but (S)Holmes tagged along. Gregson is at the crime scene, keeping an eye on the place and on Soseki in particular since he's suspicious. (Sure, Gregson. Sure. Has nothing to do with the Reaper's curse, probably.) After some investigation with (S)Holmes, Gregson has enough evidence to actually arrest Soseki, which definitely feels like a step backwards. A bit later, it turns out the victim is Not Actually Dead Yet. Again! The Great Ace Attorney really enjoys throwing us for a loop by pretending we're in for another murder case.

Anyway, during the course of the investigation, I found two mentions of Van Zieks. The first is when you investigate the broken glasses and bottles in the victim's room. Susato is immediately reminded of Lord van Zieks.

And when examining Garrideb's old army uniform, Susato points out it might suit Lord van Zieks.

Haha, as if his usual outfit isn't ostentatious enough already. So we learn that Susato doesn't have a very high opinion of him at all, and I should hope it's not still related to that time he called detective novels pathetic. It's fun of them to refer to him in an investigation that he's not involved in in any way, especially when they don't know yet that he's the prosecution again.

Speaking to Soseki in the gaol, we're once again told that he's had a dreadful time in England so far. He sees foreigners everywhere and he's sure they're all laughing at him. He's been so on edge the past year that he's moved 'more times than he can remember'. So once again, we're reminded that racial prejudice in 1900s England is a focal point of this game's story. Once the conversation is over, Gregson appears to let the gang know that the victim has regained consciousness and is accusing Soseki of poisoning him. We're going to trial for an attempted murder charge, y'all!

The next day, in the defendant's lobby, Susato comes bursting in with the dreadful news that Barok van Zieks has once again taken on the prosecution. It's definitely safe to assume now that either Ryu or Soseki is the reason he's taking on these not-really-murder trials when he normally wouldn't. As I mentioned before, this is his reintroduction in the second game and so the game feels compelled to remind the player of what went down in case 1-4:

He sure did! The game also once again reminds us what the Reaper's Curse entails, and that perhaps that's the reason why Soseki is on trial yet again. He's doomed, perhaps. Susato also informs us that (S)Holmes is running late, just as he was two days ago, and Ryu thinks that's a good thing because if the Great Detective were there, Ryu might come to rely on his help.

… I suppose? He already relies on Susato for help and I feel like that would warrant far more 'preying' from Van Zieks than relying on a male, adult British detective for help. Though knowing (S)Holmes, he'd end up stealing the show and taking the words from Ryu's mouth, but that doesn't seem to be what Ryu's worried about here. I suppose the main point to take away from this remark is that Ryu wants to do as much as he can by himself. He wants to appear strong in front of Van Zieks to avoid presenting an easy target, and I think this might actually be the first time we see a sentiment like that from him. Is he afraid of Van Zieks? Does he actually care about the man's opinion? Anyway, he swears to show Van Zieks what a Japanese lawyer can do.

Inside the courtroom, Van Zieks does the usual prosecutor spiel about how the defense needs to be ready for defeat. Ryu thinks to himself that Van Zieks has a particular animosity towards Japanese people for some reason.

Good thing we got a second game in the series, eh? So because the defendant was on trial only two days ago, the same jurors were chosen where possible. The only juror not returning is Mrs. Garrideb, who's too busy being in prison. Her spot is now taken by a very fancy lady we later learn to be the wife of the Altamont Gas Company's owner. She may as well be the CEO herself with how she's acting, though. Anyway, Van Zieks addresses the jurors directly.

“However, the innocent verdict afforded to this eccentric Nipponese before... has had dire consequences. Did the accused repent for his wrongdoing in that affair? Far from it. Instead, he used his freedom to perpetrate a most blood-curdling crime!”

Van Zieks makes record time by taking off his cloak immediately after this line. He's gone straight into overdrive. The witnesses summoned this time are Inspector Gregson and... Soseki? It's very irregular for the defendant to be testifying, especially this early in the trial and especially by the prosecution's request. I can't really make much of it. It feels like the only reason Soseki is testifying is for this joke:

Also found when examining the testimony is a remark from Van Zieks that I honestly found shocking in how ferocious and scummy it is.

Unnecessary, that remark. It didn't need to exist at all in my opinion. So after Ryu shatters the testimony and scatters Gregson's fish 'n chips, Van Zieks calmly pours himself a glass of wine. I have to be honest, by now whenever he does this I'm left wondering what he'll do next. Will he crush the chalice? Will he throw it? Will he actually take a sip? The versatility of the action and unpredictable nature of Van Zieks add a bit of suspense. Turns out, his mind wandered during the testimony.

And then he ends up crushing the glass in his hand anyway. Alas, poor chalice. We knew it. So after a bit of debating back and forth about whether Shamspeare drank the supposedly-poisoned-tea after Soseki left the room, Van Zieks suddenly falls silent. We get three different, consecutive frames of him going “......” and when the judge asks what's wrong, he says this:

Supersonic hearing, this one. That is, unless the carriage entered the courthouse and literally pulled up in the hallway outside the room? Haven't we learned our lesson from the last time a carriage was driven into the Old Bailey?! So Shamspeare was apparently subpoenaed by the prosecution and has shown up to testify (with his doctor's permission). Bad news for us, since he's the one accusing Soseki in the first place. There's also a second witness to support Shamspeare's insistence there were no other visitors to the room and therefore only Soseki could have poisoned him. After that testimony is over, Van Zieks gets his wish and all the jurors vote guilty.

Van Zieks really seems to think that Soseki is a terrible person deserving of justice, huh? He was right there during the previous trial, saw Ryu prove without a shadow of a doubt that Soseki was innocent and still insists that justice will be done “this time”. Calm the heck down man, you're the one who sided with us when Mrs. Garrideb needed to testify, remember? And here comes another example of the game pretending the previous trials didn't leave an impact; when the Summation Examination is brought up, it's with disdain and this remark:

Bro, we used the Summation Examination successfully like five times already. Sit your butt down and watch the show. The jurors once again give prejudiced reasons for their decisions:

And unfortunately, instead of changing their minds by proving Soseki is a morally upstanding, innocent citizen, Ryu instead gets through this Summation Examination by basically proving Shamspeare is a worse person than Soseki. That's... not the direction you should be taking here, narrative. After convincing four of the jurors that Shamspeare is a fishy liar, Van Zieks flings another chalice of wine in frustration. The judge still thinks he could technically pass a ruling on the trial, since the new information didn't exactly disprove that Soseki is the culprit, but the jurors have been influenced so thoroughly that they can't let this new info go ignored. Testimony from the Altamont Company is allowed! Van Zieks thinks it's a waste of time, of course, and if this were reality it would be. Since it's an Ace Attorney game, we know Shamspeare's gas thievery is bound to somehow be related to the incident. Van Zieks flings yet another chalice after hearing the testimony (how many has it been already? Five?) and very shortly after, he tosses the entire bottle over his shoulder. Susato points out that he seems to be in a violent mood. I feel like someone must've pissed in his oatmeal that morning, because I've got no real explanation for why his character regressed this badly in the course of what chronologically was only two days.

Van Zieks flings two more chalices as the testimony progresses to prove that Shamspeare made fake coins to fool the gas meter. At the end of it all, he supposedly 'throws his hand up in despair and happened to catch his hallowed bottle along the way', flinging yet another one of those into the gallery. I'm starting to feel very bad for the people seated behind him now. Is the game overdoing these quirky animations to compensate for his regressed attitude? Because I'm not sure it's working... Van Zieks continues to insist that the situation hasn't changed and only Soseki could have poisoned the victim, so he calls for immediate adjucation. The game gives Ryu the option to either object or wait and see, and I have to be honest, this gave me pause. After what happened with the penalties in case 1-4, I was sure Van Zieks might dish out more punishment for waiting and seeing. Turns out, he doesn't. Ryu points out that Shamspeare likely used the tea to make these fake frozen coins of his, meaning there's still tea left at the scene of the crime which can be tested for poison.

Head in my hands right now. Again, I get it, they basically had to reintroduce Van Zieks to newcomers of the game (however few there might've been) so they had to regress him a bit, but I really don't like this. He honestly felt like he'd grown at the end of 1-4 and the game's not only undone it, it feels like they've made him even more of a scumbag. This line and this gesture honestly doesn’t quite correspond with the character established in the previous game. Anyway, court adjourned till the next day so the police can test the tea for poison.

During the investigation segment, we get a conversation that I'd quite honestly forgotten even exists. Turns out, (S)Holmes and Van Zieks are acquainted! ...or are they? (S)Holmes says he 'must pass the time of day with Mr. Reaper again, as it's been too long' and when asked whether they're acquainted, (S)Holmes replies that there isn't a person in the world who doesn't know his name, expertly dodging the question. Naturally, a new conversation topic opens up about it, so we can still attempt to needle more details out of him.

He explains the history of the Reaper's curse a bit more. Previous defendants found not-guilty would 'disappear from the capital' by falling under a passing carriage, drowning in the Thames, succumbing to a sudden fever... Etc. Susato points out that if those rumors are true, then surely the obvious conclusion would be that they were killed by Van Zieks's own hand. (S)Holmes points out that's impossible, since Van Zieks was already investigated on the matter before and for every single incident, he had a solid alibi. (This... doesn't disprove Van Zieks had anything to do with it, but okay (S)Holmes. Sure.) (S)Holmes also rubs it in yet again that Van Zieks retired from the courts five years ago and didn't return until the day Naruhodo arrived. I honestly don't know why they keep bringing that 5 year hiatus up in every single case, because as far as I can recall it was never fully explained or relevant.

I love how “foul smell” is wedged in-between those two topics as if it's also related. Anyway the conversation continues when Ryu brings up that Van Zieks seems to have a particular disdain for Japanese people. Susato demands to know whether (S)Holmes knows a bit more about it and while he's silent at first, he relents and tells us a tale (which will apparently be forgotten by Ryu and Susato in case 1-5). Van Zieks “chose to enter the legal profession ten years ago, but before that time, the man's closest companion hailed from the empire of Japan”. Which is a wording that baffles me, because it implies that Van Zieks chose to enter the legal profession at the same moment that Japanese person betrayed him, which we know is not the case. He was already in training to be a prosecutor before that, otherwise how could he possibly have prosecuted the Professor trial? Ryu is shocked and asks to know more, but (S)Holmes says the veil on the events from the past will be lifted soon enough. I'll get back to the implications of what this means for Van Zieks's backstory when we hit this exact same reveal in case 1-5.

Van Zieks is mentioned very little in the rest of the investigation segments. We only learn that he tasked Gregson with finding new clues, much to Gregson's dismay, as there isn't much to be found. The Inspector does immediately leap at new information when we uncover it, which implies he's eager to either please Van Zieks or avoid being scolded by him. I'm assuming the latter, but it's also possible Gregson feels guilty over the whole Reaper thing and Klint's autopsy, and is now compensating by working his hardest to fulfill Van Zieks's requests.

At the very end of the investigation, when evening falls, (S)Holmes reminds us that “it'll be hard to escape the grip of our friend, Mr. Reaper”. The next day, in the defendant's lobby just before the trial begins, Ryu thinks to himself that he doesn't believe in the legend of the Reaper any more than he believes in the convict's curse Soseki keeps mentioning. What's interesting here is that Ryu isn't dreading the confrontation anymore. After the McGilded trial he seemed genuinely intimidated by the concept of going up against Van Zieks (not because of the racism but because of what happened to his first defendant), but now he's not so hesitant anymore. He's beginning to see that Van Zieks can be defeated, that the Reaper thing is nonsense and that protecting his client is a fight worth fighting.

Into the courtroom we go for day 2 of the trial! When the judge asks about the results of the tea test, Van Zieks is silent for a moment. He pours himself a glass of wine, asking for a moment to “savour a liquid of a more sanguine hue”, then refers to Gregson for the full report. Gregson confirms no poison was found in the tea remains, but the prosecution wouldn't be the prosecution (and the game would be pretty boring) if they didn't have a backup plan. When Ryu proclaims Soseki is innocent, Van Zieks accuses him of jumping to conclusions, “a typical Nipponese reaction”. It's also a typical prosecution reaction to be hypocritical, no surprises here. He throws his chalice (first one of the day) and summons Shamspeare back to the stand to testify about how Soseki's unpoisoned and undrank cup of tea had been used to make the ice coins.

There's some lines here that I thought I might as well include:

“Yet on occasion, tedium distracts me and I pour more times than I intended until the bottle is dry.”

You know, it occurs to me that this drink is pretty much confirmed to be wine. He's very extra when talking about it himself, but he had his silly little wine analogies in the previous case and Susato referred to his glasses as “wine glasses”. And you would think it's obvious that it's wine, but we know Ace Attorney's long history with 'grape juice'. Either way, this dialogue leaves a pretty harsh implication that Van Zieks drinks alcohol simply to distract himself from troublesome moods. Sure, he says “tedium”, but this is a stoic prosecutor in the year 1900. They referred to depression as “melancholia” back then, and since he doesn't appear to have any friends, I expect he experiences “tedium” quite often outside the courtroom. He apparently set a rule for himself not to fill his glass more than seven times during a trial which, in turn, implies he's aware any more would cause problems. All of this is moot, of course, since 80% of the wine he pours for himself ends up on the floor between shards of glass. Still, though... Zieks, are you okay?

I don't think he is, because he pulls a very dirty trick here. Ryu proves Soseki drank all his tea and therefore it couldn't possibly have been used, so Van Zieks insinuates to Shamspeare that perhaps he misremembered using the tea from Soseki's cup and instead used tea still left in the teapot. An excuse Shamspeare happily takes, of course. Not gonna lie, I got angry, not because it's a dirty trick but because it's inconsistent. This is the very same character who all but dragged Mrs. Garrideb down from the juror bench to testify when it became clear she likely threw a knife out the window. And now he's feeding slippery excuses to a man who's very clearly lying about all sorts of things? What??? And remember this incident, because I'm going to be referring back to it later.

He crushes another chalice, removes his cloak and continues to insist that we should believe this thieving liar at the witness stand. The jurors for some reason buy the baloney served to them on a tinfoil platter and even twist Ryu's sentiments around, with some bloke going as far as to interpret the situation as 'the lawyer lad believes anyone who steals gas deserves to be poisoned'. Summation Examination gets very funky this time around, with the outcome being that Shamspeare probably blew the gas pipes (s-snerk) and the poison was laced on the pipe.

Van Zieks pours himself a glass of wine and pretty much immediately flings it, saying these are all empty assertions without a shred of proof. When Ryu presents the picture with the skin prints, Van Zieks once again breaks the rule of the prosecution staying silent during Summation Examination to point out that skin prints cannot be used as evidence, since that method is not recognized by the court (yet). Aaand he crushes yet another chalice in his hand.

Susato claims it was never meant to be used as official evidence, it was only a tool to demonstrate a new possibility to the jury. Jumping through some loopholes here, we are, since the picture is clearly in our Court Record as evidence. But, well, the prosecution cheats too so what's the harm? Some jurors vote not-guilty, but there's still one more that needs convincing on order to keep the trial going. Ryu says he has a witness who's already testified that the pipe-blowing incident did indeed occur that night, as Soseki stated the other day before the court that his stove went out in the dead of night. (Hang on, is this why the narrative made him testify alongside Gregson?) With that the majority of the jury votes not-guilty and the trial has to continue, but Van Zieks is extra rattled now. (Another bottle goes soaring.)

He once again reminds the court that skin prints aren't admissible evidence and therefore, there is no real proof Shamspeare put his mouth to the pipes (ghghhh I'm sorry this is such a silly thing to have to type out). Ryu asks for an investigative team to test the mouth of the gas pipe for poison, but since it would've evaporated by now, that's a no-go. Also, Van Zieks says that “what appears to be simple is my Nipponese friend's mind” and that's a scumbag point. Ryu attempts to turn the trial around by claiming that Shamspeare attempted to kill Soseki, making the defendant the victim, but Van Zieks ain't having it. The aggrieved being the accused is an interesting notion, but doesn't change what actually happened. In fact, if anything, it establishes a motive for Soseki to lay a trap for Shamspeare. Because who else could have known about the gas pipe trickery and put the poison there, right? Why, the true culprit, of course.

Our man Van Zieks really doesn't like (S)Holmes, huh? A tidbit which the games will never bother to explain! Either way, Ryu raises the name of Olive Green, the victim of the previous case. And I gotta say, I do genuinely like the way they integrated these two Clouded Kokoro cases together. The chronology of everything that went down is very fun to decipher, but long story short, Olive Green was at Briar Road the day she was stabbed for a reason and knows more about the 'convict curse' Soseki and Garrideb kept mentioning, so let's drag her into court! Van Zieks agrees to subpoena Miss Green in order to 'see his Nipponese friend's farce through to its conclusion'.

So during intermission some more evidence is handed to Ryu and when trial resumes, Van Zieks continues to be his usual self.

“The prosecution has tried to extend every courtesy to this amateur newcomer from dubious Eastern shores.”

Ryu sweats bullets as he meekly thanks Van Zieks “(for his backhanded consideration)”, but once again the judge is the one to call Van Zieks out on his attitude.

Amazing. It's so refreshing to see a judge who actually disagrees with the prosecution's haughty attitude problems and acknowledges it has no place in a courtroom. Nothing against Udgey, because we all love Udgey (and his Canadian brother), but this man actually grows and learns. So Olive Green takes the stand alongside Shamspeare (maybe not the best idea since Ryu just accused her of trying to murder this man) for dual testimony. When Green brings up what a dreadful ordeal the knife to her back was, Van Zieks says this:

Hang on, empathy? He's giving her advice? This reeks of humanization! Green seems taken aback and thanks him for his words, so the sentiment was genuinely accepted. This in itself is a very nice scene to see in action, similar to Van Zieks allowing Roly Beate to keep his job. Unfortunately, Van Zieks's character is in a wild rollercoaster of moral inconsistency during this particular case which sours the experience somewhat. Case in point:

YOOOU hypocrite! This actively angered me, because at the very start of this same trial day he was personally feeding lies to Shamspeare. Now he's warning Green not to lie? It gets even worse a bit later on when Green gets cornered about stealing the note, she asks him whether it could all be some sort of misunderstanding, and he says:

ACTIVELY FEEDING SHAMSPEARE A LIE. THE VERY SAME DAY. I'm all for prosecutors using dirty tactics. It helps to juxtapose them further to the honest defense attorney we play as. However, it needs to be consistent. Either a prosecutor condones a witness's lies to help their case, or they feel that they're above it. The third, most used option is for them to start off condoning it, only to learn that truth takes priority over victory. This sloppy back-and-forth morality that Van Zieks has going on here is insanely frustrating, so it's no wonder some players end up disliking him. It honestly feels as if they rewrote this case so many times, they screwed up the exact growth trajectory Van Zieks has.

Anyway, it seems Van Zieks is suddenly fully on our side now to help Ryu prove that Green was in Shamspeare's room and laced the gas pipe with poison. And I mean help help. When the judge points out that if Green had laced the pipe the very same day she was stabbed, the attempted murder would have happened six days ago. Van Zieks is the one to say “Perhaps not, My Lord” and explain Briar Road was full of police at that time. At this point, Van Zieks and Ryu (and also Susato) actively start to take turns to explain the proper chronology of events. So the defense and the prosecution are in perfect sync right now, working together to explain the whodunnit. This is the ideal outcome to any trial, usually not seen until the last case of the game, so it's curious that this dynamic abruptly shows itself in a case like this. Van Zieks does still have one moment of gaslighting when he claims Ryu may have inhaled some dubious gas, causing his judgment to be clouded, since there's no motive behind Shamspeare's attempts on his fellow lodgers. A matter that's very easily resolved, of course. Once the name of Selden is brought up, Van Zieks continues our little game of back-and-forth-truth-reveal until (S)Holmes shows his face.

“Your usual haunts are the filthy backstreets of the capital, are they not?”

To which (S)Holmes replies that it's been too long, and Van Zieks's complexion has worsened since last they met. Alright, so Van Zieks and (S)Holmes definitely have met in person before, some undetermined amount of time ago. You'd think that going by (S)Holmes's friendly attitude they might've even been friends once, but our great detective is like that towards everyone. This is evidenced by an earlier encounter with Gregson where (S)Holmes insists they're friends and Gregson says that they're not friends, to which (S)Holmes quietly agrees. So really, this little exchange tells us nothing about the history between the great detective and the Reaper.

Some shenaniganry, a breakdown and admittance to guilt later, the court is finally ready to deem Soseki innocent. Van Zieks once again has some interesting lines here:

“And one I certainly didn't envisage walking... with you.”

Considering he attempted to trip us up for most of this walk up until the very last stretch, I don't like this remark very much. It feels very unearned. This is another one of those things that would've been more suitable in the last case of the game, but instead it's being crammed into a messy mid-game moment with the pretense that Van Zieks learned a lesson about being our ally.

In the defendant's lobby, the game basically gives the exact same dialogue as at the end of the original Clouded Kokoro case; that Soseki is returning to Japan and hopes to pen his own literature there, with the rest of the cast pointing out that the Reaper's Curse must factor into his decision to some degree. So we're still holding onto that question of whether Soseki will escape an untimely death or not. Anyone who's already played the last case of the first game will know the answer, of course.

So to summarize... I genuinely didn't enjoy Van Zieks's portrayal in this case. It really feels as if something went horribly wrong and they got some notes mixed up about where his character was already headed in the previous game. It's a crying shame. There was a lot of potential for a case set between 1-4 and 1-5, but they really dropped the ball when it comes to consistency and I've no doubt that it reflected badly on people's opinions of him. Though I think when we return to the first game for The Unspeakable Story, everything will right itself out again to some degree. Stay tuned!

#dgs #dgs spoilers #tgaa #tgaa spoilers #barok van zieks #MAN I got frustrated with this one #what happened here???

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

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PARTY FAVOURS | EPILOGUE

💖 story masterlist 💖

This is it. This is the happy ending they deserve. Fluff. Fem!Loki, because we don't get enough of Loki's female form. Some musings about relationships in general, I think. Guys, I'm crying as I'm posting this.

note: I've got two posts of outtakes coming out sometime this week. Snippets that didn't fit in the story but that have the needed vibe, y kno? As well as a new story is coming out soon... Be sure to check out my main masterlist and taglist if you like my writing <3

I want to thank all my readers for this amazing journey. I love all of you, really, like- I haven't figured out how to produce serotonin on my own ever since I hit puberty, and you guys, you are an amazing source for it. I appreciate the time and the patience that it took to read this 120k word thing and I hope you found a little something for yourself in my writing. A comfort, maybe, because everyone deserves to be happy. I love you all 3000.

"You suck," I grumbled in Peter's direction. Luckily, the little shit was out of my immediate eyesight and I couldn't just pelt him with the assorted items that were scattered around me; luckily for him - after enduring hours of non-stop rambling from the spider boy, I was ready to bargain with Stephen for the sorcerer to put a temporary mute ban on Pete. His nervousness was becoming contagious.

"And you swallow," Pietro replied with a snicker as I heard him wrestle with Peter's tie over the pathetic noises of whining and grumbling coming from the younger man.

"I'm lady, ladies don't spit," I rolled my eyes into the skies, catching Loki's appreciative snicker. She - and yes, Loki was in her female form for this event - carefully combed and did my hair, something completely out of this world, all puns intended. I supposed she was feeling generous, because her female form generally made Loki even more moody and unapproachable. But in a hot way. I hope she didn't notice me ogling her like some kind of gallery painting. "You're a goddess, I can't believe you're friends with me," I addressed Loki, watching the careful movements of her slender hands in the mirror.

A small smirk and a dusting of pink over her pale cheeks was what I got, but the silence was so, so loud.

"Stop flirting," Wanda remarked from her spot by the window where she was doing Natasha's make-up with surgical precision. "You already have three boyfriends, leave some for us, Jesus," Her tone was playful.

"Oh my God, like you didn't brainfreeze and run into the fucking wall, forehead-first, when you saw Loki walk in," I scoffed as Loki's blush deepened.

My witchy friend grumbled something rude in Sokovian under her breath but refrained from any more comments, choosing to simp in defiant silence. Well, good for her, because I was about a hundred and five percent sure that Loki was as equally as smitten with her. It's just that neither of them knew how to approach the other. What can I say, idiots in love...

And yes, yes, I can say that because it takes one to know one. My own idiots were somewhere on the upper floors - getting ready in their own rooms, pulling out their brand new suits and ties for the annual Stark gala. It was supposed to be a charity fundraiser but as all of us were quite disillusioned, we knew it was nothing but a pissing contest between people with small PP syndrome. Even Tony himself said so.

Which is why I had assembled all the girls and theys in my room for a mission debrief. My own personal pride wouldn't let me be anything but a star, and to be completely honest, I just wanted to show off my family to the world - even if the delicate parts of our relationship were hidden from the general public, it filled me with immense amount of joy to be surrounded by my very own at their absolute best.

As for Pietro and Peter, they arrived not too long after me, Wanda, Natasha and Loki made camp in the biggest room with the most amount of natural light, surrounded by make-up and other assorted tools. Both boys were bickering but it was obvious that some of the older men had gotten on their nerves, forcing the youngsters seek solace with their peers.

"You know, Vanity Fair better be talking about us for at least a week," I grouched as Wanda helped me into my dress before I returned the favour. "The amount of people I had to actually, physically talk to, to get us these fucking gowns, is frankly disgusting."

"Agreed," Loki admired herself in the mirror, smoothing out invisible creases in her gown. "Although I must say, the dressmakers on Midgard are far more patient and open-minded than on Asgard." Truly, Loki had nearly driven the poor lady crazy. But on the upside, Loki looked like a living doll. Pristine, perfect.

"Our whims are their wages," Natasha piped up with a chuckle.

We stepped out into the main room, taking note of the men scattered on the couches, all of them wearing an almost identical expression of being already done with the formal event - which, I didn't blame them. Having gotten used to the informal, communal-living atmosphere, I wasn't overly keen on being surrounded by random rich douchebags either; as it was unavoidable, I was going to be miserable - but at least I was going to be miserable in style.

Predictably, the menfolk froze and hurried to pelt us with compliments as they surveyed our ensemble - all of our dresses had a distinct vibe despite carrying a sense of individuality to each gown. That was my idea, actually, to present the team as a family - both to satisfy my own need for one and to present a good public image for the press. Call it getting good cookie from the public - in advance.

"Stunning, absolutely beautiful," Tony chastely kissed my cheek, leading my by the arm towards the limo, Stephen and Bruce a pace behind us. "I'm the luckiest man in the world."

"We are," Bruce corrected him mutely. Stephen's smirk was a mile wide. "It'll be hard to keep my hands to myself for four hours but I'll manage," The scientist added, eyes briefly flashing a fluorescent green.

"There are children here," Peter interjected, nervously waving a hand. I gently elbowed Tony, speaking with my eyes rather than words, that Pete was in dire need of emotional support for his first big public event. With a sigh, the engineer relocated to sit next to the spider boy, both of them talking in hushed tones.

"Now, Bruce," I smiled innocently. "Why would I refuse a dance or five to my favourite lab partner in crime?" I winked at him as giggles erupted all around us. "And I'm sure there's a point somewhere about wizards sweeping princesses off their feet," I kept up the banter in hopes that any remaining tension would evaporate before we arrive to the venue.

I, however, couldn't lose all of it for we were absolutely assaulted by the photographers and press as we arrived to the red carpet; it was only sheer luck that me and Wanda didn't stumble ass over heels out of the limo. That luck's name was Loki: her magic delicately helped us to exit the car with grace despite our large gowns. Mental note to buy Loki all the chocolate: add to priority list.

It went about as good as it could. Peter was introduced as a trainee - and nearly had an aneurysm when Tony none-too-kindly corrected the host, calling Peter his protégée and successor. As for little old me? Rising star of biochemical engineering. No titles, no direct titles, but it was heavily implied we were involved.

I could fell the old, white rich men leering at me despite the layers of silk and tulle. Nobody was commenting on my champagne intake so I downed one after the other until I had a comfortable buzz going on. I could absolutely see why female scientists became either reclusive or brash.

Bruce's eyes followed me wherever I went. I had encountered some people I vaguely knew from all the socialite events I had to attend with my mother, so it wasn't as if I was a fish out of the water; it's just that every time I strayed further than ten feet from out group, I instantly grew a tail in the form of one of the Avengers.

"Sam, quit being creepy," I exited the ladies room, immediately spying the handsome man just 'casually' hanging out by a potted plant, glued to his smartphone and pretending to be very busy.

He looked up guiltily, shutting down Minesweeper and pocketing the phone. "Not taking any risks this time 'round, Princess," He offered me his arm, leading us back to our table. "Tony would have my head."

I rolled my eyes, falling into the chair next to Stephen. "My tracker implant is still in and the bracelets Natasha loaned me are actually tasers. Bird, chill," My hand snuck under the tablecloth, blindly groping for Stephen's hand. It didn't take much time for him to respond, cradling my smaller palm in his larger one, offering the small comfort with a tiny tilt to his lips. Both my large skirt and the fabric covering the table aided the secrecy; I felt like a middle schooler sneaking a kiss from my first crush behind the bleachers.

Coupled with the bubbles in my champagne, it made me giddy.

"Sam is just being careful, Princess," Stephen rumbled patiently. "This ball will be over soon."

I snorted, "But Stephen, I love balls," Causing the whole table erupt in bashful snickers.

"Yeah, think to me about it," Wanda downed the remnants of her wine glass, eyes wide, looking to the side. The giggling became a full belly-laugh as I didn't have the decency to play coy. I just smirked because, yeah, I did love me some...

The final hour dragged on forever. My feet hurt from the dancing. I had my suspicions that time would pass faster if I actually move around so I didn't waste the chance and cajoled Bruce into several slow dances with me. The energy between us was electric; I hoped my wife eyes and the red crawling up his neck would be attributed to alcohol. We spoke in hushed tones, about nothing in particular, the words being like sticks we threw into our fire.

Tony wasn't around much, way too busy to do much more than stop by our table every now and then. I both envied and admired him; he handled everything with grace and serendipity. Tony was right there next to Thor and Loki - literal royalty - and I had to pinch myself to prevent myself from ogling him, sighing in lovesickness every goddamn minute.

"If you ever stop looking at him like that, I don't think he'll survive," Stephen's tone was cheeky; his eyes were intense as he looked down at me as we danced. My sorcerer was rarely sappy, but when he found the words to describe his feelings... It was serious.

I met his eyes slowly, letting him soak in the very same admiration and awe I felt when I was with him. I felt his shudder, I heard the hitch in his breath. He wasn't jealous, no, he simply observed. I wanted him to see what I saw. "The day that I stop looking at you all like that is the day that I need to get my head screwed on straight." I wasn't a poet but neither was this a romance novel. "As far as I'm concerned, I won the lottery, the grand prize and the fucking life."

He chuckled. "You have way too much faith in us, Princess," Twirling me as to avoid the out of habit embrace.

Did I, though? I was inclined to disagree. Sure, we had our spits and arguments and sometimes Stephen would stick his cold ass feet under my blankets, Bruce's love for curry was a crime against anyone who slept in the same room as he and Tony routinely flirted with everyone and everything that had a pulse. I had days where my mother's temper surfaced.

Sometimes, one of us would inadvertently hog the other person and the remaining two would pout, roll their eyes or pitch a fit.

I just didn't see it as a big deal. All of those parts were normal - what couldn't be said about the rest of our situation. Compared to couples I've seen around, I thought we're happy. My boyfriends seemed to be happy, too, and if they weren't, it usually was pretty obvious.

So - okay, perhaps we definitely should be working on verbalizing our feelings. That would definitely solve if not world hunger, then at least the world war three that occasionally erupted in Tony's penthouse. And the ups and downs - not the steep kind, but ones not too different from waves rolling ashore - was what held us together. Because, well, our world was hectic and fast-paced and sometimes we needed that gentle rocking motion to sway us back to peace.

Tony's arm on my waist pulled me back to reality, steering me towards the balcony. Bruce and Stephen followed, all four of us power-walking through the inebriated crowd.

"Just so you know, I'm on board with whatever crazy shit you're planning," Stephen raised a palm towards a smirking Tony.

His mouth immediately dropped into a pout I could barely resist kissing. "But... I had a whole speech prepared," The engineer retorted indignantly, discreetly attempting to swat the sorcerer on the ass.

"And I'm sure it was amazing, honey," Bruce placated the upset Tony with a laugh, causing the latter to intensify his pout, eyeing us with mirth over the rim of his glasses, his stupid, lovely face more kissable than ever.

@another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95 @gladiosamicitias @warrior1-19 @toomanyrobins

#party favours #bun writes #tony stark x reader #Bruce Banner x reader #stephen strange x reader #Tony Stark x Bruce Banner x Stephen Strange x reader #I'm sobbing 😭#the end #estoy finito #конец блин

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frederickthegreat · 4 years

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my thoughts on TUA season 2

(spoilers, obviously)

- opened with Klaus and Ben, my kings. Klaus’s hair looks so weird straightened while short

- AWESOME opening soundtrack

- seeing all their powers so controlled makes me wonder how they leveled up to that skill in the alternate timeline. like the only time we saw Klaus use the powers of other ghosts in the correct timeline was when two of them caught him falling out of the sky. however Diego did end up controlling bullets and Allison used her voice to technically kill one of the Swedes

- the homeless man screaming Allison’s name alongside Luther... funny shit

- big teddy bear Hazel

- Elliot was fucking awesome i think he was a great addition as a side character. rip tho :(

- honestly i don’t understand why Diego would WANT to save JFK. like it’s not that big of a deal. does he not understand what messing with the timeline can do??

- Lila... impeccable

- Sissy and Vanya... impeccable <3

- yeah and fuck u Carl

- ugh, Klaus’s beard. disgusting <3

- Ben and Klaus definitely act like they should be, given that they’ve been stuck with each other for over a decade. i’ve seen some people calling Klaus an asshole for not telling his siblings about Ben, which is completely understandable (cause he was an asshole), but I’m guessing it was because he was afraid? that sharing Ben with his siblings would mean that he would lose him to them, or his siblings would find him selfish, or they would ask something of him that he couldn’t give. if that makes sense

- that ghost bitch comment was funny tho

- to the guy who called Klaus pretty boy at the bar: sir you don’t know what you’re getting into

- Raymond!! he’s such a sweetheart, i really liked him in the show. i’m really happy that Allison has found a bit of normalcy (as normal as the 1960s Civil Rights movement could be). it shows how passionate she is about what she believes in: even though she knows the movement is far from over, even back in 2019, she’s not gonna abandon it

- Allison staring at the moon every night: either thinking about Luther or how the moon blows them all up. maybe both

- of course Luther would be working for Jack Ruby

- awesome cinematography during the mental asylum escape

- yeah it makes sense that the Handler would still be alive. she was a cool villain. although it would’ve been awesome to see how evil a fish could be

- Diego’s plan was pretty stupid. that’s my boy

- honestly they revealed how Klaus started a cult really well by having one of his followers find him at jail. Klaus, ever the musical aficionado, of course writes his scripture based off of pop songs

- Raymond and Klaus meeting!! that was cool to see how their paths connected

- Lila painting Elliot’s toenails green. ugh i love that crazy bitch

- i LOVE how they incorporated the umbrella man!! tbh i’ve always believed he was the one behind the assassination. Lee Harvey Oswald was framed

- honestly a bit understandable that Luther was planning on killing Vanya? cause he had no idea who she is now, but them reuniting was actually really sweet. he’s grown up so much

- the Swedes and their cats.

- the Umbrella company building with the nuclear family mannequins... creepy, awesome shit

- baby pogo baby pogo baby pogo baby pogo

- shanked diego shanked diego shanked diego shanked diego

- did anyone else get vibes from Klaus’s episode opening that he was an escort to the old woman? like how he was being shown off at her arm or something and getting out of jail from a call from the governor. idk maybe the lady was just very taken with him, as anyone would be

- Elliot, our helpful king

- Allison and Klaus’s reunion was so sweet!! i’m so glad they got to interact so much more in this season

- Ben getting Raymond out through a haunting... hilarious

- sweet intimate moment between Lila and Diego

- Ray meeting Luther was hilarious, but i do feel for the poor guy. i mean i’m not in love with my adoptive sister but still

- the sit-in was really well done and beautiful while terrible. the ‘riot’ that ensued was very appropriate for today’s setting

- D-Dave

- honestly i was scared that Klaus was gonna be overly attracted to him or whatever, which would be weird cause he’s years younger than Klaus, but honestly, at the core he just wanted to save Dave’s life. even if it means never meeting him in a different timeline. he truly loved Dave. and that ptsd flashback was done so well

- i knew Lila wasn’t trustworthy but i didn’t REALLY expect that!

- Vanya and Luther talking with each other, Luther admitting the apocalypse wasn’t all her fault. beautiful

- the Majestic 12 reminds me of the conspiracy theory that only a few families control basically everything in the world. the Majestic 12 may be based off of that, idk

- idk about everyone else but Klaus’s scorpion and the frog story made total sense to me! frogs ARE bitches

- the diner scene.... ugh. it really shows that the two of them did fall in love and they did stupid in love things, like talking about their family, about why Dave wanted to join, favorite colors, favorite foods, etc. however that’s seen later on when Dave visits the compound

- yes it’s very disheartening when Klaus is attacked, but honestly i think it had to happen, just like the riot had to happen. the 60s weren’t a fun time for lgbt people and poc. it was only going to be a matter of time before the show HAD to acknowledge the consequences of Klaus’s ‘flamboyancy’ in 1963 Texas. it doesn’t make it right or easy to see, but it’s realistic.

- it also makes sense that Klaus fell off the wagon after experiencing something like that. yes we all would’ve liked him to stay sober, but sobriety and recovery aren’t linear.

- Allison is so happy with Ray can we please drop this pseudo-incest plotline let’s MOVE ON

- Texas Grace ! who is not actually Grace rip (i think? i was a bit confused lol)

- the scene with Harlan running off was really upsetting but we got to see those weird light particles that we saw in the first season

- Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo

- Klaus being a dick to Ben again, as brothers do. i do feel bad for Ben though it must be sooo frustrating. that scene with him and Allison was really sweet and funny tho

- i just have to say that Luther and Diego are so fucking funny this season it’s awesome. like there are a LOT of good lines overall by everyone but they’re hilarious. “At least he didn’t shank my ass” “no bro, he shanked your heart”“Dads part of a sinister CABAL that’s plotting on killing the president.” “a caBAL?”“You two still a thing? *leans in* do we need to talk?” “No, she’s married.” “Woah dude... that’s rough.” and countless others

- the sibling reunion!!

- Klaus really does get left out of everything tbh

- Ben :(

- sisters and Klaus!! that was so awesome to see. and Klaus’s hairpins, Vanya saying she’s gonna tell Sissy she loves her, their dance sequence, Klaus calling Allison out on that incest. beautiful

- the fucking Swedish cover of Hello was PERFECT i mean i was sad for the Swedes but it was hilarious. there were a couple beautiful shots of the boat on fire though

- god it must’ve been so traumatizing for Allison to be thrust into such a hostile place with no voice and no way to contact her family

- idk about you guys but long live Team Zero

- calling Ben that he was becoming their father was a bit uncalled for

- the fact that Klaus didn’t help Dave’s chances, and in fact escalated Dave’s own timeline.. his trembling hands... robert sheehan is an amazing actor

- the Black president bit lmaoo loved it

- the way Reginald spoke to Diego.. i’m gonna throw hands with an old man

- Klaus LITERALLY looked like he was having a seizure and they all just... played it off??

- poor, poor Carl. nah fuck him lol

- that bloody opening scene was awesome! and thank god Five got to say fuck. the fact that it was about a candy bar makes too much sense

- Robert Sheehan acting as Ben: amazing showstopping spectacular he’s so talented

- the whole multiple Fives and Luther bit was honestly really funny, and i immensely respect smaller Five over bigger Five.

- yes Klaus, you survived a family of seven. you got this

- not sad about Carl dying one bit!

- Ben... that was such a beautiful scene. not just the content of the scene, but the cinematography. Ben fading away... Vanya hugging him... ugh. the main takeaway i had from that scene is that at the core of it all, Ben and Klaus love each other immensely. they have a weird, dysfunctional, fucked up relationship, where Klaus is an asshole and Ben definitely shouldn’t of possessed him without his consent, but they’re still brothers, and Ben forgives him.

- oof Ben’s funeral was hard. also was it just me or did Klaus’s kid actor sound weird? like it sounded like Robert was dubbing his lines

- all the siblings back together again!!!! Klaus going with Vanya to save Harlan!! Vanya telling him Ben forgives him and that it wasn’t Klaus’s fault Ben got stuck with him!! everyone in the car!!! be still my beating heart

- yeah didn’t see Lila having powers coming tbh. i really feel bad for her she’s had such a rough and traumatic life, especially with the Handler as her only parental figure

- the Swede brother and Five putting down their weapons: “enough.” the Swede wanted revenge for his brothers - an eye for an eye, but there was a mutual understanding between the two of them: they would do anything for their family. if the Swede hurts one of the Hargreeves, Five would never stop coming after him. i thought it was very beautiful

- mmm Reggie’s foreshadowing coming into play. proud of u Five

- the ending was so beautiful. everyone got closure in some type of way. except now Klaus is alone with nothing but his dog tags :(

- EMO BEN HAHAHA WTFFF?? is Lila in the sparrow academy? why was Ben’s portrait over the mantle piece? did Five disappear?? is the sparrow academy just older versions of the siblings who stuck around?? so many questions

FINAL THOUGHTS

- Ellen Page’s acting consistently blows me away. she is amazing

- beautiful cinematography, funny writing, pretty good acting. i didn’t like the soundtrack as much as i did the first season’s, but some of it wasn’t bad.

- i’m glad ben got peace, but i’m also glad justin min isn’t gone for good. his social media presence is too vital for us

- i swear to god if they keep treating klaus as a joke and don’t let him get any actual development like everyone else had (he barely got closure with Dave, he reconciled with Ben through a second party) next season, i’m gonna riot. PLEASE i want to learn more about his powers now that Ben is gone. what happened to seeing tons of ghosts when he’s sober??

- Luther and Diego were probably my favorite duo of the season, I’m so happy that they’ve reconciled and are bonding more.

- just seeing Vanya grow and be happy was amazing

all in all, really wonderful season. i probably liked it better than the first one. now it’s time to consume fanfiction and maybe finish my own (check out “god doesn’t want him and neither does the devil” on ao3!)

#the umbrella academy #tua spoilers #tua season 2 spoilers #the umbrella academy season 2 spoilers #the umbrella academy season 2 #tua season 2 #klaus hargreeves #luther hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #allison hargreeves #raymond chestnut #dave katz #diego hargreeves #reginald hargreeves

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fortune-fool02 · 3 years

Text

Y/n Moreau diary (Moreau little sister Au)

2 October 1948 :

Some brats bullied Salvatore again today. Poor him is still in his room, crying.

Mother and Father didn't helped too; they overwhelm him with derogatory words : "Get yourself together already!", "Stop crying and be a man!", "You ashame our family!" etc.

I can't even go comfort him.

Father obliged me to have more science classes and adds economic classes as well; and Mother adds etiquette and good manners classes to my already busy schedule. Evidently, the remarks I made to Salvatore's last "fiance" weren't worthy of a "Young lady coming from a respectable family".

Good for her. Better prepare yourself for the consequences before you insult and put down others. It was really pleasant to see her run from home in tears.

22 November 1948 :

Father starts to keep Salvatore out of family matters more and more these days, and to give me more responsibilities. It's all a bad sign.

Furthermore, they stop to search a wife for Salvatore and are now searching "suitors" for me.

I should plan strategies to stop them to court/marry me.

I had enough work already...

I can't even spend time with my big brother...

Ball breakers.

8 January 1949 :

My fears are confirmed.

Big brother will be oust from the family and be relegated to the rank of secondary branch. Making me the sole head and heiress of House Moreau. To top it all, Mother and Father have found me suitors. 5 suitors all older than me by at least 10 years minimum.

Pedophiles...

I am only 10 years old and you want to marry me. Still happy that the wedding will take place when I turn 16-17.

Salvatore is even more withdrawn than ever since the announcement. I think he is thinking that it's all his fault if all of this happen.

It's not true Salvatore! It's their fault. They never try to understand you or to give you the affection you need.

Don't worry, when I will be the head of House Moreau, I will reinstate you to the main branch.

8 March 1949 :

It's been just some months since big brother was oust of the main branch and they are already treating him as a slave! How dare they!? Salvatore is their child too. He is even a good doctor at his clinic, even if he is shy and eluted when he talks to his patients.

And my suitors are constantly in my feet... Sweet talking me, courting me, wanting to spend to with me. Oh please give me a break. You have 6 years to win my heart. Even if you never will, but it's not nice to crush people's hopes.

How I wish that I already am the head of the family yet.

12 June 1949 :

My wish was granted.

Mother and Father died in an accident 2 days ago.

The funerals are today, but, I don't really feel sad. I mean, my heart hurts because it was my parents and all, but I don't have a breakdown or intense sadness overwhelming me.

Big brother on the other hand... he is devastated. Even after all they put him through, he still loves them dearly.

Don't worry big brother. I will never abandon you, I promise.

30 September 1949 :

Since I am the head of House Moreau, everything seem to be better : Salvatore was reinstate in the main branch, my suitors leave me alone, and the house's fortune is going well.

I make researches on the stange fungus which can be found near the village.

Maybe this mushroom can be use as a medicine.

5 February 1950 :

A strange woman came at the house today. She told me she was Mother Miranda, the prophet of the Black God. What crazy joke is this? The black god? Since when a cult like that exists in this village?

I told her, nicely, to go back to her god home and to never come back here again.

I must keep an eye on her, though. She smells troubles.

4 March 1950 :

MIRANDA YOU FUCKING BITCH!

This woman talked to Salvatore in his clinic and succeed into making him join her cult of degenerates. And now, he is somewhere in her underground church.

I must find him.

22 March 1950 :

Miranda you fucking witch.

You used my brother to lure me to you, to implant me your "Cadou".

Cadou... a gift? rather a curse if you want my opinion.

I must be glad though. I didn't mutated to become some of her monstrosities, and I am still alive and well.

But Salvatore...

I must check on him again. He is still suffering.

12 May 1950 :

Salvatore is...

I- I don't know what to do.

What happened to him is just... just...

I saw him suffering for days, having so much excrescences forming on him to the point of making him a hunchback.

His beautiful young face distorted to become more fish-like. He lost most of his long platinum hair, his teeth become crooked.

He looks like a mons-

No! He is my big brother, Salvatore Moreau. Not a monster.

He is already putting himself down enough. He sees himself as a monster. I can't, I must not let him down.

I promised.

Miranda. I will never forgive you for what you have done. One day I will kill you I swear.

But if I want to create a medicine to kill her, I need test subjects and incubators.

Maybe those suitors won't be useless after all.

***

This was so cool! Thank you!

#moreau's sister au #submission #moreau #salvatore moreau #resident rvil 8 #resident evil village

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echo-hiraeth · 3 years

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The Changing Table - Frankie Morales x Pregnant F!Reader

Summary: Part of the Ikea series. At eight months pregnant, you and your husband, Frankie are eager to finish up your nursery, he even asks his friends to come help out. However, it seems putting a changing station together isn’t as easy as you’d expect.

Warnings: swearing, pregnancy, mentions of labour

Big thanks to @peterhollandkait for helping me think of this one :))

Masterlist

“Hermosa, what did I say about that?”, Frankie tuts as he takes the paintbrush from your hand. “You need to rest.”

“I’m fine Frankie”, you reassure him, placing a hand on the swell of your belly.

“C’mon, let’s get you out of here and back on that couch”, he says, softly guiding you with a hand on your sore back.

As he helps you down on the couch you look around, frowning when seeing the amount of cardboard boxes surrounding you. “Is it just me or are there even more boxes now?”

He sighs loudly from the kitchen, getting the both of you something to drink. “The movers dropped off the last of our stuff. I told you it was a bad idea to move now, querida.”

You playfully roll your eyes as he hands you a glass of water. “I thought you liked adventures!”

“Not when my wife is eight months pregnant”, he scoffs, protectively resting a hand on your huge bump.

“I’d kiss you if I could”, you taunt, flashing him one of your brightest smiles.

He leans forward to catch your lips in a gentle kiss, his hand never leaving your bump. “I love you.”

“I know you do honey, but if you don’t let me do at least something around here, I swear I’m going to die of boredom.”

“What if you unpack those clothes while I finish putting together the wardrobe?”, he offers, eyes soft and caring.

“I’ll take it! Any chance to see my man at work”, you tease, pressing your lips to his again.

“Isn’t that how we got here in the first place?”, he jokes gesturing towards your swollen stomach.

You laugh at that, playfully swatting his hand away. “Don’t remind me Morales. I’m sure you’ll pay for what you did to me in that delivery room.”

The rest of your day is spent in the nursery. While Frankie puts together the wardrobe, as promised, you unpack the boxes of clothes and smaller items. Your radio is playing some music while the two of you work in a comfortable silence, just enjoying each other’s company. It isn’t until you start to cry that Frankie breaks away from the instruction manual.

“Querida, what’s wrong, are you in pain?”, he asks while worriedly kneeling in front of your rocking chair.

You’re holding a tiny romper, chest heaving as you sob. “It-it’s just so cute and tiny.”

He smiles to himself and wraps his arms around you. “Hey, it’s okay. I know it is, just wait until there’s a baby in it.” You smile at him, engulfing him in another loving kiss. “Do you want to stop for the night?”

You nod as you pout, the hormones completely taking over. Frankie smiles at you once again as he helps you stand. A grunt leaves your mouth as you place a hand on your aching back. “Want to get the heating pad in a bit?”

“You’re reading my mind, Love.”

As much as you didn’t want to, you had to agree with Frankie. Moving houses while pregnant wasn’t the greatest idea you ever had, but the two of you had outgrown your tiny apartment. You’d been living in the new house for a little less than a month now, seeing that the lease on your previous place had ended. Most of your free time was spent renovating the new residence, much to your husband’s dismay. The boys and your friends had been helping out when they could and it was slowly coming together. Most of the rooms, except for the second bathroom and nursery, were done and only needed furnishing and decorating. So at eight months pregnant, you spent your time painting and furnishing your baby’s room. Frankie couldn’t leave you out of his sight for even just an hour. The first time you’d been home alone, he’d come back to seeing you sprawled out on the new carpet in the nursery, panting. He’d lectured you about the dangers and made you vow never to do something like that again.

That was another thing, as soon as you found out you were expecting Frankie went into full-on protective mode. It didn’t take long for everyone to find out, seeing how he was hovering over you everywhere you went. By the time you were three months along, he’d read every pregnancy book you owned three times already. The night you’d shown him the positive test, was the most chaotic you’d ever seen him. The poor man couldn’t stop gushing over you and how amazing your body was for growing a whole baby. So when your bump finally started showing he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, caressing and cupping your stomach whenever he saw fit.

The farther along in your pregnancy, the more useful he’d proven to be. He was there every step of the way, holding you when you needed to cry whether it was over the Disneyland commercials or your bloated figure. Your husband was a dream to have around, his hands working magic on your aching feet, back and breasts. And if you wanted a strawberry milkshake to dip your chicken nuggets in at four AM, he’d get you exactly that, no questions asked. Where other couples drifted apart the two of you grew even closer, coming to love each other more and more with every new sensation and experience.

“How’s that feel?”, Frankie asks, wedging the heating pad behind your lower back.

You let out a moan at the instant relief. “Fuck, that’s good.”

“Here, let me help you with that”, he murmurs as he unclasps your bra, another satisfied grunt leaving your mouth. “Careful now, preciosa, it hard enough to resist you as is.”

“Sorry Frankie, it’s just been a long day”, you sigh, laying your head on his shoulder.

He pulls your legs onto his lap, starting to rub your distended feet. “The guys are coming over tomorrow, to help with that changing table and the crib.” You hum in response, eyes closed as you enjoy his soothing movements. “But we need more paint and screws, so I’ll be gone for an hour or two while they’re here.”

“I don’t need a babysitter”, you chuckle, as you softly stroke his beard.

He leans into your touch, grinning: “You’ve clearly proven that you do.”

“Maybe Will can have a look at the shower, the drain keeps overflowing”, you suggest, pressing a sweet pack to his neck.

“That’s not a bad idea.” He looks at your face, noticing your relaxed features. “How about we head to bed for the night?”

That night you get little to no sleep, the baby kicking away at your bladder and spleen for most of it. You keep stirring, trying to find a somewhat comfortable position to fall asleep in, to no avail. But eventually, the baby settles down, and with Frankie’s heavy arm resting on your chest, you find some peace, only to be awoken by the pressure of your bladder a few hours later. You groan as you pull yourself up, finding the bed empty. You hurriedly waddle over to the bathroom, scolding your bump as you step on a power cord. It isn’t until you wash your face that you hear the baritones coming from downstairs.

You smile to yourself as you get dressed, settling for a flowy skirt and one of Frankie’s old and oversized t-shirts. A high ponytail and some light make-up was all you could bring yourself to do these days, panting with the slightest effort. The men were laughing together, drinking coffee as you made your way down the stairs.

“There she is!”, Benny announces, arms spread wide open as he catches sight of you.

Frankie quickly rushes over to you, holding your hands while helping you down the last couple of steps.

“Jesus Fish, she’s pregnant not immobilized”, Santiago jokes, making you huff out a breathy laugh.

“Might as well be at this point”, you groan, going to hug the three of them.

“Nonsense, you look beautiful”, Frankie shushes you, kissing your temple. The guys agree with him, successfully flattering you.

After the five of you catch up and go over the plans for the day, Frankie gets ready to leave, car keys in hand.

“Don’t do y/n things while I’m gone”, he pleads, hands resting on your hips.

You chuckle, pecking him on the lips. “I promise I will just be there to annoy the guys. And I’ll only help out if they really need me to.”

He rubs his nose against yours, taking a deep breath. “No heavy lifting, no bending down, no standing up for too long.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Get your butt out of here now, those supplies won’t get here by themselves!”

And with that he’s gone. You shake your head as you join the three men in the nursery. “M’lady, your throne awaits”, Santiago quips, showing you to your rocking chair.

You let out a content sigh as you sit down, the three head staring right at you. “What?”

“You look a mess”, Will starts out.

“I think he means you look tired”, Benny soon corrects him, handing you the box of clothes.

You throw a romper at the both of them. “I’d like to see you try to sleep at thirty-six weeks pregnant.”

“Yeah man, have some respect for the lady”, you smile at Santiago, “she had to fuck Fish for that.”

“Santiago!”, you exclaim, mouth agape at his comment.

The men laugh in chorus as you try to hide your bashfulness. “M’sorry sweetheart, let us know if you need anything”, Pope says between laughter.

You eventually all get to work, Will (the only capable one) having left the room to check up on your shower for you. Benny and Santiago at that point have been trying to figure out how to put together the changing table’s drawers for nearly an hour.

“Oh my fucking God, how hard can it be! Give me that”, you laughed, yanking the instructions out of Benny’s hands.

The two men watch you, drill in your small hand, as you easily put the drawers together, one after the other. You were sat on your knees doing so, the backpain already settling in.

“I don’t get it, we had the same instructions, didn’t we?”, Benny questions, looking at the stack of finished drawers.

“Maybe you two are just idiots”, you jest, hammering the top of each drawer to ensure their stability.

“Hey now, no rea-“

Santi’s cut off by two bags hitting the floor, your husband standing in the doorway with a shocked face.

“Why is she holding a hammer?”, he interrupts, tone eerily calm.

The two men help you to your feet. “Well, genius, she was the only one who could figure out the instruction sheet.”

Frankie pinches the bridge of his nose, jutting his hip forward as he slowly exhales. “What. The. Hell. Did you just say?” You fail to stifle a giggle, making Frankie look up at the other two. “You mean to tell me that you made her put all of this together?”

“C’mon man, it’s not that big of a deal, she’s a big girl”, Benny intervenes.

“She is eight months pregnant!”, Frankie yells, the anger in his voice making you laugh a little louder.

“I mean, we can see that”, Santi jokes, making your husband only more furious.

Frankie shakes his head at you, still scolding his friends. “You two mean to tell me that two ex-soldiers - top soldiers - at that can’t even put together Ikea furniture?”

The three of you were laughing even harder at that, so hard that you doubled over, holding onto the small wardrobe to keep you from falling over.

“Relax Fish, she’s doing just fine”, Benny huffs, cheeks cramping up from laughing.

Will walks in, confused when seeing the four of you. “What’s going on?”, he asks glancing between you and Frankie.

Your husband crosses his arms defensively, annoyed at the three of you for laughing at his genuine concern. “Did you leave these two dumbasses alone with her?”

“Fuck man, sorry, I was just checking in on your shower problem.”

You suddenly stop laughing, making the four man look at you. The smile replaced by a look of surprise as you feel something wet trickle down your leg, onto the floor. A sharp pain hitting you right in your back. Frankie bolts over to you, steadying you as you let a whimper.

“That’s not good, is it?”, Santiago asks.

“I’ll kill you two later. Baby, look at me, are you hurting?”, Frankie’s voice softens up when talking to you, the other men leaving the room with a look of sheer horror on their face.

You shake your head at him, clutching to his arms as you start to panic. “It’s too soon Frankie, I-I”

“I told you not to do y/n things”, he taunts.

“Now’s not the time”, you grunt out between clenched teeth, another contraction hitting you.

His eyes widen a bit at that. “Let’s get you to the car.”

While the two of you were at the hospital to deliver your bundle of joy into the world, the other guys were at your place. They finished the nursery within the next four hours, rushing over to the hospital to find out you were enduring a very long and painful labour. The three couldn’t help but feel somewhat guilty and soon found themselves buying peace offerings for you in the small giftshop.

After another long and stressful seven hours, your baby boy made it into the world and your friends were finally allowed to come pay you a visit. The earlier commotion was soon forgotten when they laid eyes on your son, cooing and musing over how cute and small he was.

“We uh- decided to get you guys a new carpet as well”, Will says, watching you and Frankie with the new-born.

“You better, that’s the least you can do after making my wife endure all of this”, Frankie retorts.

“Weeeeell, technically it’s your fault for not being able to keep it in your pants”, Benny jests.

You quickly throw him a disapproving glance, gesturing towards to sleeping baby on your chest.

“Let’s just hope this kid turns out like his mother”, Santi sighs, smiling at your little family.

Years later the two of you still tease your friends about those drawers, telling your son the story of how a pregnant woman kicked two macho’s asses. Frankie gladly goes along with it, secretly grateful for that night, God knows he couldn’t stand to see you so miserable for another four weeks. But by the time your second pregnancy nears its end, the guys have read up on Ikea furniture building, determined to kick your ass this time around.

#frankie morales #pedro pascal #imagine #triple frontier #francisco morales

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janekfan · 4 years

Text

Ten Seconds

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25814524

One can do anything for ten seconds. And then all you have to do is start with another ten seconds and well. You can do anything for ten seconds. Jon blinked back the encroaching, smothering black.

Ten seconds.

Martin deserved ten seconds. Ten thousand seconds. Ten billion seconds. But at the moment, Jon can only spare him ten. And then he would spare him ten more.

Ten seconds.

Martin’s hand was cold, pale, and Jon worried that without his ability to See, there would be no one beside him on the train. Awkwardly, he pressed trembling lips to the soft head of auburn hair settled against his chest. (Was there even a heartbeat under there?) He could do this now, he was allowed.

Ten seconds.

Jon stayed there for a full count, breathing in the comfort of Martin, there, with him, against him. Solid. Not quite warm yet. But there. His weight grounding Jon as his mind attempted to race and came up only with

Hungry. Hungry. Starving. Hollow. Empty. Empty. Empty. Painhurthungerempty there’s a statement in the second car and pleasejustletmeeatsomethingiamstarvingandsosoSOHUNGRY.

Ten seconds.

Swallowing down the intrusive thoughts past the clot of agony in his throat, Jon could feel every scar one hundred fold. Itching. Aching. Stretching like mouths in his ashen skin to reveal what monster lay underneath and he couldn’t let it because then everyone would Know like he Knew. He offered the elderly lady across from him a wavering smile and she returned it and it was so normal and nothing had been normal for so long. He buried his face in Martin’s hair, sweet, exhausted, Lonely, Martin who needed him to be strong for just once in his greedy life.

Ten seconds.

He cried, silently, hidden from sight, every nerve alight as he strained the limit of his unwanted powers to make sure nothing was following them.

Ten seconds.

That’s all he needed before the train pulled to a lurching stop at the small, but well kept station. Jon shouldered their backpacks, cupping Martin’s cheek and touching his forehead to his.

“Up you get, darling.” Martin’s eyes were hazy and grey, brightening to strawflower blue when he acknowledged Jon. “If we don’t disembark now, we’ll have left all the good cows behind us.” Despite his own slightness and Martin’s greater height, Jon guided them both to the platform, looking around to clear his head. “Come, love. I know the way.” Gentle. To make up for all the times he was not. That’s what Martin deserved. Kindness and gentleness and softness.

Jon was worried his sharp edges and temper and hunger would never be enough.

Ten seconds.

Huffing, wheezing, he hadn't been particularly fit before and wasn’t that a poor position to be in when most of your job relied on running from individual eldritch horrors, Jon struggled to hitch them both up the small slope to the tiny village. Though there were spare, flickering street lights, most of the windows were dark and if Jon hadn’t just compelled a being to death, he might have been frightened. As it was, the cottage came into view and Jon turned the key in the old lock and pushed in, going down under the heavy weakness in his legs.

“...Jon?”

“S’alright, Martin.” Just taking a short rest.

Ten seconds.

Before making it to the couch and taking Martin’s hands in his own. Gingerly, Jon rubbed his thumbs over the back of his hands, trying to impart some warmth, any warmth, into that frozen skin.

“I’ll make us some tea.” Get Martin warm. Warm and safe. Packs in a pile, Jon spread a knitted throw over him, tucking it around his shoulders and making quite sure he wouldn’t end up with a crick in his neck.

Ten seconds.

He locked the door.

Ten seconds.

Piled wood into the fireplace and checked the flue, no good would come of smoking them both like a fish.

Ten seconds.

And ten more again.

To work up the courage to strike a match and light the tinder and his hands shook so badly the first guttered out. The scar on his palm burned like the day he’d received it. Strike the match. Light the tinder. Stoke the fire and check the draft.

Ten seconds.

To cry and shake on the hearth. To rock back and forth, hands rough against his face, tears wet and uncomfortable and all his stifling made his head throb. When finally he could stand again, Jon checked on Martin, kissed his cheek because he was allowed to do that now, and stumbled into the kitchen to turn on the hob and heat some water.

“Oh.” He could see in the dark. When had that happened? He distracted himself with locating tea, so old, and Jon could pinpoint the exact date it had been manufactured, when it arrived on the shelf. When Daisy bought it and how long she took to put it away and when the last time a human, or somewhat human, hand had touched it and Martin would no doubt find it flavorless, but it was normalcy. A few dry goods in airtight containers, things that could be whipped up by adding water, stocked the pantry. They would need to go to the market but could survive for several days on what they had here. Or Marin could. Jon wanted only what he could not have. It would worry Martin. So he would try to eat. He could try anything for Martin. A sharp pang lanced through his middle and he curled up around it, gripping the counter for dear life and clapping a hand over his mouth to cut off the noise.

Ten seconds.

And the tea was done. And the lamp next to the couch worked to cast a cozy yellow glow over the room. Jon set his own chipped mug on the table before waking Martin to press another mug, warm from the tea, into his hands.

“Nothing could measure up to your tea, but it’s hot.” When Martin smiled, Jon’s whole body tingled; he wanted to make Martin smile always.

“Thank you, love.” The endearment made his head swim. This was his. To selfishly keep and to hold and to horde and because the Eye wanted to do that anyway, it was that much easier but no less unbelievable. More color flooded into Martin’s face at the first sip, and the expression he made, caught between polite and disgust, made Jon chuckle.

“We’ll have to stock up.” Martin continued to sip despite the taste, becoming more and more aware with each swallow, and Jon wanted to ask if he could. Maybe. “C’c’ould I. Perhaps.” Now that the idea was in his mind it was almost louder than the hunger and he couldn’t think of anything else. Martin raised an eyebrow because of course he did, because he wanted to hear Jon to say it. “I. I.” Breathe. “J’join you?” The only dignified way he could think of saying ‘if you don’t hold me now, I may fall completely apart, and you need me to not do that to you this time.’ Martin grinned widely, face soft and open and so, so beautiful, set his empty mug on the table and opened up the blanket. It was all Jon could do not to leap at him and cling like a limpet, and instead sideled into his embrace, melting against his side. Safe. Safe. He was safe. They were safe. He would always be safe here. Nuzzling his cheek into a broad chest and winding both hands into his jumper, Jon sighed, letting the steady heartbeat quiet the voices, the Knowing, listening to the quiet. Like Daisy said, just listen to the quiet. When he looked up, Martin met his gaze, and Jon charted the freckles like constellations dusted over his cheeks and knew he would never forget any of them even if someday he could.

“You look tired, Jon.” Martin frowned and no, no, no, Jon didn’t want him to do that, anything but that. Not because of him. So he chuffed, in that way that mimicked disbelief and ire. It was easy. Too easy. To build those walls back up again. But he’d hurt him so much already. He had to protect Martin from himself. From the monster that was hired right along with him.

“It’s been. Well, a bit of a day.” His legs were folded up on the couch and when had that happened? pressing his boney knees into Martin’s soft thigh. He’d been starving before he dove into the Lonely for Martin, to retrieve what was his, and he’d used up even more of himself destroying Peter Lukas, then most of the rest to leave with his precious, invaluable prize. “Bit of a decade, really.”

“Shall we, then?” Jon felt himself flush red and buried his nose into Martin’s chest. Because yes. yes. He wanted to lay beside Martin at night. Watch him wake up next to him. Last action of the day to kiss him good night, first of the morning to kiss him awake. “Oh, darling.” The amusement in his quiet voice made him flash hotter and Martin’s arms wrapped him up so completely he felt cocooned within the sanctuary of his hold. Cherished. Something that still had value despite being so, so ugly.

Ten seconds.

He couldn’t let himself cry. Not where Martin could see. Not when it would only make him worry.

“Y’yes, please.” This time Martin grabbed their packs, held Jon by the waist when the change in position made his head swim. “Heh. T’t’tired.” It wasn’t a lie, not completely, but it left a sour taste on his tongue either way. They were changing for bed when Jon realized Martin had turned self conscious, and he pressed himself into his surprised arms, skin singing like he’d been struck by lighting the moment they touched, tugging him down to meet him for a sweet kiss. “I love you.” Now it was Martin’s turn to blush and it only made Jon kiss him that much more. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The bed was just big enough for the pair of them to be comfortable and though Martin dropped off quickly, he was now warm to the touch, their faces scant centimeters apart. It was dark but Jon could make out every precious feature made prettier by the soft moonlight, lashes darker and swept over cheeks Jon wanted to kiss over and over and over again. Like this, in this tentative peace, Jon felt he finally had space to take a full breath. They were safe here. It was called a safe house. It was in the name.

But just in case he would stay awake to keep watch. To protect that which was his should something decide now was a good time to get cheeky.

Ten seconds.

He kept himself still so as not to disturb him. Watching. He needed to rest and recover and he wouldn’t be able to do so if Jon was rolling about the sheets. When the hunger threatened to crescendo, to beg him to extract any and all statements from Martin and he had so many, he distracted himself by memorizing all that he could.

Ten seconds.

The way his freckles were splashed more heavily on the left side of his face.

Ten seconds.

There were exactly seventeen dusted over his nose, with one close to the corner of his right eye.

Ten seconds.

Depending on what size and how pigmented, Jon could map Ursa Minor using the one nearest his lashes as Polaris. Ursa Major was too far away in terms of accuracy--

A wave of ache crested in his mind. The Eye no doubt tired of his little games.

Ten seconds.

In terms of accuracy, but was there, tucked closely to his ear, hidden partially from sight by a stray curl. Jon giggled, slightly hysterical, clamping both hands over his face. But there was a veritable zoo with Draco and Pegasus and Cignus.

Ten seconds.

Waiting for Martin to stir, his nose to scrunch up as he came awake on his own before pouncing and kissing him the rest of the way to consciousness.

“Good morning to you as well, Jon!” Martin was laughing. Hugging him close and kissing him back. He was allowed to have this.

Ten seconds.

“You need feeding up, darling.” Martin ran his fingers over Jon’s shivery ribs, playing them as though they were piano keys, pausing at the space left behind by the Boneturner. “You’re practically hollow.”

Ten seconds.

If he only knew. Instead.

“There are instant porridge oats in the pantry.” The thought of food made his stomach turn.

“As good as we’ll get, I suspect. At least until we head into the village.” They got ready squashed together at the small bathroom sink. It was nice. Domestic.

Jon watched Martin read the box, selecting two packets and pouring them into two bowls, He tipped a careful measure of hot water from the kettle over the gravel dust lining each before turning to pass two mugs of tea to him.

“Even my tea making abilities didn’t stand a chance.” He set a bowl before Jon, sliding a spoon across the table. Something must have shown in his face because Martin covered his hand with his own. “I know it’s. It’s not what you want. But.” Jon startled, knowing his eyes were wide in surprise as he looked up at Martin. “I’ll contact Basira. We’ll get you what you need.”

“Martin. N’n’no, it’s alright.”

Ten seconds.

“It really isn’t.” And he kissed his forehead.

Ten seconds.

“I’m not. Sure. If I, I can go to the village.” Jon tugged his mug closer to him, fingers leeching the warmth from the porcelain. “I’m. I’m not safe.” Barely above a whisper, he didn’t want to admit to this weakness in him. But he needed to be honest or he’d just put them in more danger.

He couldn’t protect Martin if he was chasing meals and out of his mind.

“No worries, love. I can go for the both of us.” Martin stirred his breakfast before taking a bite and not wanting to disappoint him, Jon forced a mouthful himself and the regret was instantaneous. “Oh, Jon.” He leaned into his palm as it cupped his ear.

Ten seconds.

Jon was dizzy, freezing. Like he’d taken the Lonely inside himself and housed it right next to where the worst of his hunger resided. He was so relieved Basira was shipping statements because if Jon were being honest with himself for once, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could resist just taking the statements from the one he loved most.

Ten seconds.

How many more until he could have any small respite?

Ten seconds.

At least it was quiet here. With Martin. They saw plenty of truly lovely cows on the walks they took hand in hand and side by side and Jon got to spend all the time he wanted curled against him, letting the rhythm of his pulse quiet the ravenous need.

Tonight though, he couldn’t seem to get warm, caught between chills and hunger pangs he kept to himself even though Martin could see right into his soul it seemed. He often wondered if Martin hated what he saw.

“Soon, love.” Oh, and the pain in Martin’s voice. This isn’t what Jon wanted at all.

Ten seconds.

When he was sure Martin was asleep, Jon crept out of bed to retrieve the jumper he’d discarded and pull it over his head, sighing with relief not because he was any warmer, but because now Martin was all around him. Even as he tried not to, tried to keep watch, Jon succumbed to sleep tucked tightly against Martin, drowning gently in him.

When Martin woke, he allowed himself a few moments to appreciate the small body snuggled up close because there was a time where he wasn’t sure he’d ever have a moment like this again. He brushed his fingers through prematurely greying hair and tucked it behind Jon’s ear so he could press his lips against his forehead, both eyelids, his cheek, his nose, to the corner of his slack mouth, smiling against the stubble there. Jon didn’t stir and Martin decided to let him sleep as long as possible. He wasn’t well. Pale and gaunt, haunted by the things he’d seen and been forced to do. Jon destroyed Peter Lukas, dragged him from the Lonely, got them all the way to Scotland.

Jon wouldn’t hear of him giving a statement, maybe he could give him this.

He was doing the washing up in the kitchen when he heard unsteady shuffling behind him followed by a hoarse, bleary voice.

“Martin. Y’were gone.”

“Jon?” Martin had just seconds to appreciate how small, how adorable Jon was swallowed up in his cable knit, swaying there like a bit of weed caught up in the tide. It hung off one narrow brown shoulder to fall mid thigh revealing bare, scarred legs and mismatched socked feet. His thin hands were fisted in the ends of the sleeves, one of them sleepily rubbing at an eye limned with shadows so dark Martin would have thought they’d been blacked had he not known better.

Just seconds before he crumpled like wet paper or a house of cards, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, his temple striking the wooden floor far too hard for Martin’s liking.

“Jon!” Fluttering, his hands lingered over Jon’s limp body like butterflies, lighting only briefly before resuming their frantic flight. He wasn’t sure he could move him. Touch him. What if he made it worse? Would he heal from this? When he was starved as he was?

“Mmh…” A bare sliver of unfocused dull brown appeared between lashes parted a hairsbreadth.

“Jon?” Delicately, Martin brushed aside his hair to get a better look at where he struck his head and violently, Jon flinched away from the light touch, breath picking up, trembling beginning in earnest now. At least there was no blood, only a nasty contusion that already seemed to be healing, albeit slowly, and he attempted to shift. “Hush, hush, don’t move. I’ve got you, darling. It’s Martin and I’ve got you.”

“Mmmartin.”

“Yes, I’m going to lift you.” Frighteningly limp, Jon weighed almost nothing in his arms and Martin tucked him closer, into his neck, protectively. “You’re so cold, love.”

“Martin.” The small whimper was little more than an exhale against his jaw. “Martin.”

“I’m here.” He settled him on the bed, still turned down from where Jon untangled himself to go looking for him just moments ago. “I’ve got you.” And to his utter dismay a painful sob wrenched itself free from Jon’s throat. “Oh, darling, shh, it’s alright.” Martin pulled the blankets up around them both and Jon turned into his chest, clutching him as tightly as he could, tears coming silently in a torrent, slipping over the bridge of his nose and soaking the sheets. “Alright, alright.” Gradually the shaking died down, and the hitching in his breath evened out into panting, and further into something approaching sleep. Saltwater damp lashes brushed against Martin’s skin and he stroked his palm up and down Jon’s back, pressing his lips wherever they could reach until his body relaxed completely, the hand once gripping him for dear life now loosely curled on the pillow where his head rested. Martin was sick with worry. He’d never seen Jon lose control like this; not even at his most paranoid.

Retrieving a damp flannel, Martin swept it delicately over Jon’s face, concerned when he didn’t so much as twitch, before setting it aside and settling in to wait. This time he would be here when Jon woke.

To give in to the Eye and watch (take) is to be rid of the pain of resisting.

It is equal parts loss and failure.

Monstrous. Untouchable, but afraid, so afraid.

Watching himself being watched by himself, being watched by himself, being watched by himself, being watched, infinitely, forever, because what watches the Ceaseless Watcher but itself? Through the hole torn in the very fabric of the sky, gloating, glutted, on truths and falsehoods it wasn’t supposed to have, to know, to keep like it had right.

Eyes forced to see, too many eyes, eyes that didn’t belong to him (all eyes belonged to him), feeding, gorging on information and Knowing, Knowing, Knowing, unable to shut the doors, unable to keep them out, out, out because now they were open and staring and wide and he didn’t have the strength to shut them again. Nothing but a conduit. A seemingly unlimited vessel somehow filled to the brim and bursting, seeping through the cracks of himself, rivulets of Knowing like acid, like hot, burning, blazing blood that he tried to keep inside through force of habit because no matter how much he lost, there was always more. More. More.

Too much. Too much. Too much.

But he needed it to breathe. To be. To suffocate him. Pain. But beautiful. The euphoria of holding one’s breath beneath the sea, silent, soft, soundless but for the muffled cadence of your heart in your ears.

Ten seconds.

To fill his lungs with water.

Ten seconds.

To decipher the reverberation beating against every sense.

Ten seconds.

“Martin.”

Ten seconds.

His throat ached.

Ten seconds.

To open his eyes, his two eyes. To see Martin’s frantic face above him. To feel wetness splash his face.

Ten seconds.

“Martin.” Shaky, he pressed a palm to his cheek, thumbed away a stray tear. “What’s wrong, darling?” Martin huffed, lips pulled into a trembling smile, and covered the back of Jon’s hand with his own.

“You’ve gone absolutely daft.” Martin scrubbed his face furiously, but it didn’t stop those blue eyes from welling up. “You, Jon.”

“M’alright.”

“Nope. Try again.”

“Martin--”

“You were screaming, Jon. I’ve. I’ve never. I didn’t know a person could sound like that.”

“I’m not quite a person though, am I?”

“Do not start with me, Jonathan Sims.”

“Oh, full name.” It hurt to speak, but felt so good to tease, to put a degree of separation between whatever this was and the nightmare he’d just been pulled from. “Am I in trouble, Mr. Blackwood?”

“You’ve not escaped this conversation.” Martin flopped to the pillows beside him, tugging Jon to his chest and he went willingly, melting under the kisses dotted amongst his hairline. Letting go of the residual tension. Losing himself in the quiet.

Ten seconds.

“S’sorry.” He felt Martin chin move against the top of his head.

“Whatever for, love?” Jon gestured weakly at the whole of himself, hand falling to the quilt at the end of its path, letting himself be squeezed tightly. “It’s not ideal, no.”

Ten seconds.

“But it doesn’t change how I feel.” Jon didn’t know he’d been holding his breath until it rushed out of him all at once, dizzied with relief. “You’re insufferable, but that’s just part of your charm.” A sweet kiss cut off his sputtering.

The gnawing, empty, ache was still there, buried deeply below the distraction Martin provided, buried beneath the love there and Jon could have wept at how lucky he was.

“Up you come, Jon.” He was still in the jumper, shy under Martin’s affectionate adoration as their fingers threaded together; the spaces between made for each other. “I’ll make us some tea.”

#jonmartim #jon sims #martin blackwood #the magnus archives #tma fanfic #starving #Hurt/comfort #fainting #domestic #scottish safe house

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