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xxdragonwriterxx · 3 years

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🔥You Are Human, And Damn It, You Are An Important One!🔥

A/N: Hey everyone! I’m back! It looks like my tags finally decided to sort themselves out so I wanted to (finally) post a new story! I’m still working on requests though, so don’t worry, those are coming soon! I just wanted to post this in the mean time while I edit those and test if my tags are really fixed on one of my originals so that any requested fics will actually be seen later should an error occur. Thank you so much for your continued support and patience, you guys are so amazing! I hope this makes up for my temporary hiatus! This one actually has a bit of a heavier tone to it but I think I’m finally happy with it! Thanks again for the support, and don’t be afraid to talk to me! Shoot me a message or just spew random bullshit and I’ll still respond 😂. Enjoy!

(Warning: themes of non-con & abuse. This is set in a brothel, but there’s nothing explicit, it’s just mentioned or implied. Just wanted to put it out there! Viewer discretion advised!)

🐉Song Recommendation: “The Gardener” By: Sarah Sparks 🐉

Word Count: ~7k

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It was that time of year. The time of year that Levi hated the most. The Underground Market Festival. It was the time of year in which merchants from all around would come down to the Underground City, away from the prying eyes of the Military Police, and sell anything and everything to the nobles who weren’t exactly looking for orthodox materials. The normally filthy, mostly empty streets would be filled with members of the wealthy, dripping in jewelry, cash, and lavish clothing as they paraded around the sorry excuse for a city, boasting of their wealth and privilege as they bought enough food and luxurious goods to feed three times the number of people in the Underground while sharing none of it.

The days were starting to blur together. Levi honestly couldn’t tell if it had been a day, a week, or a month as the drugs in his system continued to work just like the brothel owners wanted them to, rendering him practically inoperative and perfect for use. His head pounded, swimming with confused thoughts. His gaze was unfocused, warped, and his whole body felt suffocatingly hot despite his lack of cover, his legs shifting as his body instinctively searched for a relief he didn’t even want. But that was exactly how they wanted him.

The sound of his door being unlocked made him look up slowly, his eyes taking a few seconds to fully focus on the man standing in the entrance of his room, a wide, malicious grin on his face. Levi couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose in disgust. The man smelled of sweat and stale alcohol, and his unkempt appearance made Levi itch, even when drugged out of his mind.

“Oh, Levi…” the man cooed, making Levi shudder. “I have another customer for you.”

Even though Levi had been through this time and time again, even though he had been trapped in his filthy room since he was caught stealing from a merchant friend of the brothel owner at age twenty, even though the drugs in his system were making his body scream for what this new customer could give him, he still couldn’t help the wave of dread that washed through him, the fear. Levi didn’t fear much, having grown up on the streets of the Underground alone since he was abandoned by Kenny at the age of ten, but this? This he was scared of.

He thought back to the wretched old man that had abandoned him as a small child and wondered what he would think of him now. Would he be disgusted? Unsurprised? Angry? Not that it mattered. Levi knew he would never see him again. But even so, his brain couldn’t help itself from going down those roads, asking questions of “what if?” no matter how many times he reminded himself that it didn’t matter. He was just some bastard thug turned whore in the Underground. Nobody was going to even remember him, let alone care about who he was or who he may be in the future.

Levi was once again brought out of his daze when the pig in the doorway moved to the side, letting a noble woman saunter into the room. She had a wicked grin on her face as she approached him, ignoring the brothel owner as he slammed the door shut behind her, giving them some privacy. She was covered in glittering jewelry, and although the dress she wore was extravagant, it was very tight fitting and low cut, barely considered decent, her large breasts one breath away from spilling out over the top. Her hair was pinned up in a lavish braided style, twisting and coiling tightly, and held together with real gold pins that Levi knew must’ve cost a fortune.

“~Well, hello sexy,” the woman purred as she approached the raven-haired man.

Levi had to force himself not to grimace, even with the effect of the drugs, when she slithered her way over his thighs, her hands reaching up to cup his face. The smell of whatever custard perfume she had on was overwhelming, making his eyes water and his throat close up. Her hands felt clammy from all of the lotions and creams she had slathered over her skin to make it look shinier, making them feel like dead fish rubbing against his cheeks.

“Well? Aren’t you going to ask my name?” The woman demanded in a sickly sweet voice, making Levi close his eyes in barely suppressed agony.

“What is your name?” Levi asked in a low voice. He felt the woman preen above him at the sound of his voice, knowing she thought his deep tone was for setting the mood rather than the effect of his despair.

“My name is Lady Clarissa! What’s your name, hmmm?”

“Levi,” He said quietly.

“Oooh, Leevviiii, I like that,” Lady Clarissa practically moaned. “Say, Levi, you were quite expensive. That must mean you're really good at what you do. I can already tell that you fulfill my personal tastes in terms of appearance, so why don’t you convince me of the rest and give me a good time. Don’t make me regret spending my good money on you. Don’t make me punish you.”

Levi gritted his teeth when she ground her hips into him, trying his hardest not to fight back. He knew it would be difficult, the drugs making his movements and mental processes much slower, but at that moment, all he wanted to do was shove her off of him. Swallowing the bile in his throat, Levi reached for her as she leaned down to force her tongue into his mouth.

It was that time of year. The time of year that (Y/N) hated the most. The Underground Market Festival. It took everything in her to avoid groaning in annoyance as the people she was expected to call her friends dragged her down into the filthy Underground City for a day of “fun”. (Y/N) would much rather be back at home, reading a book in the library, or relaxing with the horses in the barn, or secretly practicing her sword fighting skills with the guards of their estate. But her father had forced her to go when her friends had shown up at the house, begging for her to come with them. He claimed she needed to get her priorities straight and actually present herself, show the honor and pride that came with being part of the (L/N) family. (Y/N) thought there was very little honor and pride in parading their wealth around like they owned the world, especially in front of people who constantly struggled to survive on a daily basis.

(Y/N) walked slowly down the worn cobblestone streets, suppressing the urge to gag at the sight of other nobles walking around, looking and acting as if they were rulers of the walls. She barely looked at anything, only stopping to occasionally buy food when she noticed the hungry children hanging around, looking for a scrap to steal. She could tell they were wary of her, but she never stopped trying, always offering them the food in some way, even if it meant leaving it in a secluded space for them to find later.

Her friends constantly tried to get her to engage, running up to her with crystal jewelry, silk clothing, and delectable foods, attempting to entice her, only to get pushed away. (Y/N) wanted no part in any of it. Even her attire spoke volumes about how little she wanted to be there. She knew that to the people of the Underground, the dress she wore would be considered something of utmost value, but when compared to the nobles around her, she looked underdressed and plain. She wore nothing more than a subtle red dress covered with a black leather jacket, paired with black combat boots and matching gloves, no jewelry to be found except for the simple white earrings she wore in her lobes.

Her father had been less than pleased with her appearance, but stopped arguing when she announced she was leaving, the lord just happy she had at least agreed to go to the festival. She knew he was disappointed in her, annoyed that she wasn’t like the other noble ladies who loved to flaunt their luxurious lifestyles and bend to the every whim of the lords around them, looking to marry early for money and power. (Y/N) wouldn’t be surprised if the entire reason her father wanted her here was so she could possibly win over the affections of a single lord milling about, one that was rich and influential. It was for that possibility alone that (Y/N) had originally thought to wear something that made her look underdressed, having to swallow the bile that rose in her throat at the prospect of catching some snobby noble’s attention.

“Yeah, her name is (Y/N)! She’s the one right over there, I think she could use a good time.”

(Y/N)’s head snapped up when she heard her name, her eyes shooting over to where her friends were standing in a group in front of a large building. All of them were looking at her, covering their faces with their hands to hide their giggles. Dread filled her to the brim when she saw the sign in front of the building, her face paling in horror.

“That one, eh? I think we can arrange something like that,” the brothel owner said, a smug smile on his lips as he stared at her, his grin only widening as her cheeks flushed a brilliant red. “Don’t worry, I’ve got one in particular that could give you a good ride. He’s expensive since he’s my most popular, but he’s worth it.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to argue, her cheeks on fire as her brain fought to think of something, anything to get her out of this situation. She didn’t want to fuck some random stranger for no reason, but she especially didn’t want to have sex in a brothel. She found them vulgar, repulsive, and horrible. The way they treated their “workers” was appalling. Just as the words finally reached the tip of her tongue, one of the girls she had come to the festival with cut off her impending argument.

“Damn, I’m jealous! If he’s that good I’m almost tempted to take him myself. But she needs this. She hasn’t loosened up the entire time we’ve been here and I think this might help. She’ll take him.”

The greasy man smiled and wrote her name down, happily accepting the roll of cash her friend handed him before getting up, supposedly to let the man know that he had another customer on the way. (Y/N) tried to escape when she could, but her friends rushed up and caught her before she could slip into the shadows, dragging her over to the brothel and shoving her towards an open door where the brothel owner stood, a creepy smile still plastered on his face.

“Guys! I don’t want this!” (Y/N) whispered frantically as she was dragged towards her doom.

“It doesn’t matter if you want it or not, you need it!” One of her friends said with a laugh. “Besides, you’re going to have a fun time. Don’t make us regret spending that money for you!”

(Y/N) was practically thrown into the room, stumbling as she fought to catch her balance, before the door was slammed shut behind her, the loud sound of the lock being latched reverberating around the room with the finality of a death toll. Huffing in anger, (Y/N) stood and brushed herself off, smoothing out her dress and straightening back up to her full height, fighting off the panic slithering up her spine.

A low groan of pain coming from behind her made her whirl around in surprise, her eyes landing on a shorter, pale skinned man with stunning silver eyes and raven black hair. Gods he looked pathetic. She could definitely tell he was attractive, it made sense now as to why he was a popular choice, but he looked sickly, his cheeks hollowed out, dark circles under his eyes, and a muscled yet neglected body starting to wear thin from years of hunger and constant overuse. The sight made her want to be sick. How could anybody be cruel enough to force themselves onto this obviously abused man? How could anyone willingly pay money to fuck him rather than help him?

“Um, hello,” (Y/N) said quietly. “W-What’s your name?”

The man raised an eyebrow, not used to the soft, kind, almost shy way she asked for his name. The women and occasional men he dealt with most of the time were demanding, controlling, and sadistic, knowing they paid for a man they could use, and their voices usually projected that. Yet, this woman looked as if she had been forced to do this, further supported by the way she had been nearly thrown into the room by whom he assumed was her friends.

“Levi,” he said quietly, waiting for the usual routine to start, no matter how much his gut twisted in disgust at the thought.

“Hi, Levi, I’m (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)...” Levi murmured softly, training himself to memorize it despite his swimming brain, knowing she would want him to scream it out later. Whether in pain or in pleasure, he wasn’t sure yet.

“Um…” (Y/N) was about to speak, her mind scrambling for something to say when her eye caught sight of a large bruise on his neck. Her eyes widened and suddenly started scanning his entire body, her stomach roiling more and more the longer she stared. Now that she was really paying attention, (Y/N) could see painful bites, hickeys, and splotchy bruises littering his neck, jaw, chest, and thighs. Her eyes narrowed on the long, bloody scratches running down the length of his chest and back, and she noticed blooming red patches of skin all over him that were raw and aching from being slapped hard and rough over and over again.

He was wearing a loose pair of worn boxers as his only cover, and (Y/N) could only imagine what other horrors the thin cloth was hiding. Glancing down, she saw him shift uncomfortably, his boxers tented by his arousal. The sight made her growl in anger, knowing that to keep him going after he had already had so many customers for the day, a drug was being used to make him insatiable, forcing him past the point of pain and probably clouding his judgement and mental process as well. It made her want to go cut up the brothel owner and serve him to a pig.

Without thinking, (Y/N) rushed to him, reaching out to him, only to freeze when he flinched. She heard him curse at the involuntary movement, knowing it was his job to appear as unaffected and sexually appealing as possible, and it made her heart clench even harder, her hatred for this place and the people who ran it increasing tenfold.

Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) immediately slowed her movements, trying to appear as calm and unhurried as possible. Her gaze softened and glazed with unshed tears when he closed his eyes, his arms reaching out as he prepared for her to sit on his lap and have her way with him like she knew every other man and woman who used him did. Gritting her teeth against the fury she felt, she carefully slid her way across his thighs. She felt him force himself to relax under her as he leaned forward to let her kiss him.

When he felt nothing, and heard something click, Levi cracked open his eyes in curiosity, only to have them fly open all the way when he felt something cool and wet against his neck. Looking down at the woman in his arms, his lips parted in shock, watching in confused awe as she leaned back and soaked a small cloth in some water from a bottle, rinsing the fresh blood from the fabric. Looking to the side, he saw a small first aid kit by her feet, the container open to reveal a variety of medical tools inside.

(Y/N) leaned forward again, raising the towel to his neck to dab at his abrasions, washing them carefully, reverently, almost... lovingly. Levi opened and closed his mouth but no words came out as she continued to work on him, delicately cleaning his jaw and neck before carefully moving on to his chest. Was this some kind of strange ritual she always performed during sex? Did she just find him dirty and want to clean him up before putting her lips or her pussy on his skin? His mind was running a million miles a minute as she worked on him in silence, only pausing when he hissed quietly at the feeling of his gashes being washed.

(Y/N) frowned as she gently swiped the cloth along the red gouges in his skin. They were deep, most likely caused by the long, sharp nail extensions some ladies liked to wear, or the dull blade of a man with violent tendencies. It didn’t surprise her, a lot of the men and women who used people like this did have sadistic qualities, but it didn’t help to quell the now roaring fire in her blood, wanting nothing more than to fight against the injustice of this man.

“W-What are you doing?” Levi finally managed to ask.

“Cleaning your wounds.”

“Why? Is this some kind of-”

“Preparation? No. We aren’t going to do anything. I just want to help your injuries heal.”

Levi felt like his brain was full of static, like his mouth was stuffed with cotton. He wasn’t complaining, far from it, but he couldn’t get a reading on this woman. Why would she, a noble from the surface, want to help him, a hopeless whore from the Underground?

“Wha-”

“Before you ask what my intentions are, I’m just going to tell you that I didn’t even want to do this. I was forced to come to this festival because my father wants me to become more of a proper noble woman. But since I wasn’t too thrilled about having to be here, the people I came with thought I could use an opportunity to loosen up, and paid for me to do this with you in the hopes that I’d start having fun with them afterwards. But I have no intention of doing any of that. I hate how everyone in the Underground is treated like shit, and the last thing I want to do is take advantage of someone who obviously isn’t in control of his situation. I just want to help.”

Levi closed his mouth, all of his protests dying on his tongue. He still had questions, a lot of them, but he decided those could wait, her explanation making him feel surprisingly relaxed for someone who had trained himself to never take the word of a noble at face value. He had never met anyone like her. Even before he was forced to whore himself out, all he had ever known of nobles was their complete lack of humility and egotistical sense of self-importance.

It was silent for a moment, but this time, the silence was more comfortable, both of them starting to relax a little as (Y/N) continued to patch him up. Levi felt himself loosen up a bit, his muscles unwinding as his hands settled on her waist, keeping her securely balanced on his lap as she worked. Pride swirled in (Y/N)’s chest as she felt his tense muscles soften, her eyes sparkling as she started to work her way towards earning his trust.

“What’s your happiest memory?” (Y/N) asked suddenly.

Levi quirked an eyebrow in suspicion, “Why should I tell you, brat?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” (Y/N) said, shaking her head and stifling a giggle at the nickname. “I only asked because I figured we may as well talk while we do this. Not only that, I feel like you could use some happiness right now. But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so if you don’t want to talk to me, you don’t have to.”

Levi was silent for a minute, the cogs in his mind turning as he tried to make what he believed to be the right decision despite the fog clouding his judgement. Just as she had promised, (Y/N) waited patiently, not pressuring him to answer, or even bringing up another question. She merely sat in silence, her clear (e/c) eyes narrowed on his injuries as she worked to make him feel better.

“There was a time when I was with my friend Farlan, a few years back. We were doing a job, trying to get rid of a troublesome merchant for a client of ours when we found out the merchant had a cat. We were hiding around the corner, waiting to strike when that damn cat jumped up onto Farlan’s lap. I’m fine with cats, but that was the day we found out Farlan had some kind of allergy to them. He was trying to hold back his sneezes but finally lost control right when the merchant came around the corner, and Farlan ended up sneezing really violently in his face. That merchant got so scared he must’ve jumped at least three feet in the air, and even managed to piss himself before he took off. We still had to finish him off later, but in that moment, when Farlan was mortified and our target was running for the hills because of a cat induced sneeze, I couldn’t help but laugh a little.”

(Y/N) had paused in her work to listen to him, and couldn’t help but smile when he finished his story. Going back to work, (Y/N) didn’t ask what happened to Farlan, not wanting to drag him back down after she had finally gotten him to talk to her, about something so personal no less.

“What about you?” Levi asked.

“Hmm, I think I’d have to say when I got my horse for my birthday,” (Y/N) said. “I was never around the horses, wasn’t allowed to be in the barn because it wasn’t “proper for a lady”. But I loved them, loved seeing them on the streets when other nobles would come visit my father or when the soldiers from the Survey Corps would come back from a mission. I couldn’t stay away, so no matter how much my father tried to squash my love of them, it just wouldn’t happen. My mother eventually convinced him to let it go, and surprised me with a little chestnut filly that I named Sashay when I was about sixteen years old. Now, she’s my best friend. We’ve been through everything together, and she’s the only one who doesn’t try to force me to be something I’m not. Aside from the royal guards, I guess. They learned a long time ago to stop trying to get me to sit still and look pretty when I beat all of them in the sword fighting ring.”

Levi’s brows shot up into his hair at that, his lips parting in surprise. “You know how to sword fight?”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Yeah, not what you were expecting, huh?”

“No,” Levi said. “I’ve never heard of a noble woman who could fight, let alone with a blade. Are you any good?”

“I tend to think so, but that all depends on who I’m up against,” (Y/N) said with a cheeky smile.

For some reason, Levi couldn’t help but smile back for the first time in years. His lips felt chapped and strained from disuse, but it felt good, a light feeling flooding his chest with warmth. “You said earlier that your horse’s name is Sashay,” Levi said, suddenly changing the topic.

“Mm hm.”

“That’s weird.”

(Y/N) giggled at his bluntness, making another fluttering feeling swirl in his chest. He had never met anyone other than Farlan who saw his language as something other than rude.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” (Y/N) said. “But I named her that because she is a sassy chestnut mare. I like to imagine that if she were human, she’d be someone you wouldn’t want to mess with, someone who wouldn’t take shit from anyone, but would do so with a spicy attitude. So I named her accordingly.”

Levi huffed a laugh at her response but almost immediately regretted it when the movement of his chest caused the rough gauze at her fingertips to brush against his injuries a little harder than before, the stinging sensation making him hiss in pain.

“Sorry!” (Y/N) said, quickly retracting her hands and holding them up, waiting for him to give her the signal to continue.

“Not your fault,” Levi mumbled, motioning that it was alright for her to get back to work. “Thank you, by the way. I don’t think I said that before.”

(Y/N) shook her head. “You don’t have to thank me. I want to do this.”

Levi wanted to ask her why but remembered what she had told him at the start of this and decided to trust her word, swallowing the question and instead changing topics. “Why do you even have this? Do you always just carry a first aid kit around?”

“Only when I come to the Underground. I want to have it available for those who really need it.”

“You do know that at least half of the people down here would kill you without a second thought to get to that medicine. Or they’d kill you if they thought you were pitying them.”

“I know, but I’d like to think I can handle myself a bit more than the average person. Even so, I usually keep it hidden unless I really want or need to use it on someone, and it’s only for quick patch-ups anyway. I can’t really fix anything major.”

(Y/N) finally finished with his front and carefully slid off of his thighs, moving slowly to begin working on his back. She made sure he was okay with everything she was doing before settling herself down onto the edge of the bed behind him, her hands reaching up to start her work once more.

Levi wanted to know more about her. He felt as if he could talk to her for hours, as if he had known her for years. He wanted to know what made her laugh, what made her cry, what her vision was for the future. It was insane, so much so that Levi idly wondered if he’d fallen off the deep end. But he couldn’t deny it. She was just too intriguing, so surprisingly kind, so genuine.

What was your childhood like? What are your favorite things to do? Do you come down here often? When will I see you again?

The questions continued to rattle around in Levi’s head as they once again lapsed into a comfortable silence but he forced all of them back, not wanting to seem either too desperate to get to know her, or be seen as coming on too strong.

After debating with himself for a while, Levi finally settled on, “You’ve mentioned your father a lot, and how he doesn’t want you to be yourself.”

(Y/N) tensed a little, her face twisted in a grimace behind Levi’s back. “Yeah… he used to be better about it, but ever since my mother died, he’s been like a tyrant. He’s upset he didn’t get a son in the first place, but now that he’s stuck with me for a daughter, he’s even more disappointed that I’m not someone he can easily make profits off of by marrying me off to someone. Not only have I been adamant about not allowing it, but no nobleman wants a woman who can think for herself. A woman who can ride a horse, go toe to toe with her soldiers, has an opinion, and is knowledgeable about current conflicts. They want someone who will dress up all pretty for them and be in bed, ready to satisfy them when they get home from gambling and drinking all day while sitting on their parents’ money.”

Levi scoffed and (Y/N) huffed in agreement. “I’m just not that kind of person. Every suitor that has ever met me has run away from my casual attire and sailor’s mouth.”

“Your father wasn’t like this when your mother was alive?” Levi asked.

“He was, but he wasn’t as bad. My parents were in an arranged marriage, but they got along alright. At least my father loved my mother enough to listen to her most of the time when she told him to lay off of me. I honestly think she’s the reason why I have such a strong fighting spirit.”

“I’m sorry she’s gone,” Levi said awkwardly, not used to providing words of comfort.

“Thanks,” (Y/N) said genuinely, a warm smile gracing her beautiful features.

“I didn’t know my mother that well,” Levi said haltingly, still unsure why he felt comfortable telling her about things he hadn’t even talked to Farlan about. “She died of a disease when I was four years old. She was a prostitute, like me, so I never knew my father. When she died, I was picked up by a man named Kenny, who I thought might’ve been my father for a short while, but as I grew older, I realized he wasn’t. I don’t have any proof, I just know. When he abandoned me at ten, I was alone for a few years before I met Farlan.”

“So… you didn’t get stuck doing this because of your mother?” (Y/N) asked carefully, almost afraid to ask in case it made him shy away from her.

“No,” Levi said slowly. “I was twenty years old when I was caught stealing from a rich friend of this brothel owner. I had made a mistake and there was no way out. He figured out who I was, a thug who was known at the time for carrying out favors for people, whether that meant stealing or killing depended on how much they were willing to pay. Unfortunately, this led them to Farlan, and he gave me a choice. Me, or my best and only friend.”

“And you chose to save your friend at the expense of yourself,” (Y/N) finished for him in a hoarse whisper, filled with horror and unbridled fury at what this man had been through. She figured she should’ve been alarmed, he had just admitted that he had blood on his hands. He was a thief, a thug, a criminal, a murderer. But (Y/N) knew those things were nearly requirements for living in the Underground and no matter how she thought about it, she couldn’t think of anything that would make this man deserve what he was going through.

(Y/N) opened her mouth to say something just as she put the last bandage in place when a loud pounding on the door startled them both. “Time’s up, you two!” The brothel owner shouted through the door.

(Y/N) shot up from the bed and rushed around to where the water and first aid kit sat, quickly packing up the little box of supplies and splashing her face with water, trying to make herself look sweaty enough to look convincing. Once everything had been packed away, (Y/N) stood and shrugged off her leather jacket, throwing it to him.

“Here, take this, it’ll keep your boss from seeing the bandages and trying to get rid of them. It’ll also give your injuries a little more protection from the bacteria in this room.”

Levi wanted to refuse, tell her he couldn’t accept a gift like this, even if it was temporary, but no words would come out as he watched the beautiful woman in front of him mess up her hair and swipe her fingers across her lips, trying to make herself look as wrecked as possible. When she finally looked the part enough to seem convincing, (Y/N) made her way to the door, turning one last time before she opened it to throw him a wink and a sweet smile.

“~Goodbye Levi, I hope we can see each other again soon.”

The lilt in her voice was fake, an act for anyone who may be listening on the other side of the door, meant to be taken as a sickly promise of more sexual endeavors to come, but he could feel the genuine emotion in her statement.

“I hope so too,” Levi said quietly after she had already left, the once comforting quiet of his room now making him feel lonely and empty.

The sound of pounding on his door woke Levi abruptly, making the raven-haired man growl in anger and annoyance. It was rare that the poor man got to sleep, not only because customers could come in at almost any time, day or night, but also because of the horrible insomnia that often plagued him. It made him even more irritable to be woken up, his body sore and his mind groggy as another round of pounding roused him further and prompted him to swing his legs over the side of the small cot he was provided when not busy fucking, and make his way to the door.

“What?” Levi snapped when he swung open the door, genuinely surprised that the pig who owned him hadn’t just burst into his room like he always did, raving about yet another customer for Levi.

“Get your shit, you’re going to the surface.”

Levi blinked. This had to be some kind of joke. The brothel owner never let anyone under his foot leave the brothel, let alone the Underground. Even the highest class noble women couldn’t request for him to come to them, the old man not trusting his prostitutes to be sent back. Especially Levi.

“Oi, your ears gone to shit now? Grab your pathetic bullshit and get out of my sight,” the man snarled, his small, watery eyes narrowed on Levi like he was the scum of the world.

Shaking himself out of it, Levi didn’t hesitate for another moment, rushing back into his room to grab the pitifully few things he had with him, including the leather jacket he had gotten from (Y/N), draping it over his shoulders to hide his healing injuries just in case it was a trick. The festival was still going on afterall, this could just be some ruse the old man set up to make the experience more interesting for the men and women who paid for him.

When Levi returned, the man pulled a gun from his jacket pocket and jerked his head, signaling Levi to follow him. Levi knew better than to risk running. In his full health he could’ve easily escaped from the man’s clutches, but with little more than a half hour of rest, his injured body, weak muscles, and the remnants of the drugs still working through his system, Levi didn’t trust himself to outrun a bullet, and knew the pig wouldn’t hesitate to fire, no matter how valuable Levi was to him.

Even though Levi kept expecting the brothel owner to turn down a secluded street and lead him right into an ambush or trick of some sort, he never did, leading Levi right to the stairs exiting the Underground. When they reached the guards at the base of the stairs, the man took two slips of paper from the inner pocket of his worn brown coat and showed it to the guard. When he was cleared to continue on, the brothel owner turned and motioned for Levi to stay close as he stomped his way up the stairs, grumbling incoherently to himself all the while.

Breaching the surface, Levi brought an arm to his face, shielding his eyes from the intensity of the sun as it attacked his face with warm, bright light. He eventually got used to it, slowly lowering his arm and rushing to catch up with his boss, who was impatiently grunting for him to hurry up.

Passing through what appeared to be a busy market square, Levi followed the brothel owner along the lively cobblestone streets until they reached a quieter part of the town, stopping along the edge of a beautiful flower field, the grassy meadow filled with colorful blossoms that secretly took Levi’s breath away.

The sound of horse hooves caught his attention, and Levi looked up only to have the air fly from his lungs when (Y/N)’s bright face came into view, the stunning woman seated astride whom he assumed to be Sashay and flanked by two armed men.

“Right on time,” the brothel owner grumbled, his little pig eyes narrowing when he saw her passive aggressive smile.

“Of course I’m on time, this is my deal, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the man growled. “Are you sure you want this one? He’s my most popular, I’d hate to lose him.”

“Yes, he’s the one I want. Besides, I believe the money I’ve paid you has far exceeded the profit you have earned from having him around. I’m sure you will be able to manage.”

The man sneered at her but didn’t respond, using the muzzle of the gun to push Levi forward and digging in his pocket to fish out the same pieces of paper he had shown the guards on the stairs, handing them to (Y/N).

“Thank you, sir. I believe we are done here.”

The brothel owner slunk off, casting dark looks at her but refusing to argue as he hunkered off to head back down to the Underground, where he would continue to rot like the rat he was. Levi watched him go before turning to (Y/N), surprised by the bright smile she flashed him when he met her gaze.

“(Y/N)? What’s going on?”

(Y/N) smiled even wider and held up the pieces of paper she had been handed. One of them was the file labeling him as a slave to the brothel owner, keeping him from escaping, and the other was a bill of sale. His eyes widened when he saw her signature on the bottom of both pages, officially registering her as his new owner. He opened his mouth, about to speak when she took both pages in her hands and ripped them in half, letting the torn pages float onto the street below, forgotten, useless.

“There, you’re free now.”

Levi was at a loss for words, his mouth gaping open. “(Y/N)? What-”

“Before you ask me what my intentions are, I’m just going to tell you that I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I couldn’t stop thinking about your life, your sacrifice, your pain, and I decided I could do something about it. You are human, and damn it, you are an important one! I couldn’t just leave you there. Now, you won’t have to work for anyone but yourself. You won’t have to cater to anyone else’s needs and you can fulfill whatever dreams you have.”

“But, that must’ve cost you a fortune, to cover more than the amount of money he’s made off of using me? What about-”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Levi. I want to use my funds for good, put them towards the people who need it the most. That includes you. Especially you. I couldn’t bear the thought of you having to stay in that shit hole for even a second longer than necessary.”

“What do I do now, then?” Levi asked, trying to focus on keeping his voice steady.

“Well, you can do whatever you want now. You’re a free man, you can find a house and settle down somewhere, or you can go back to the Underground and pick up your life where you left off. You can join the military, or you can start a small business here in the square. It’s anything you want. You get to choose your life now.”

“And what if I don’t want to do any of those things?”

(Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that flashed across her face then, her heart filling with warmth. “Like I said, it’s your choice, you can do whatever you want, carve your own path, but if you want to come with me, you’re always welcome to.”

Levi’s lip twitched and he took a step forward, reaching up to pat Sashay’s muzzle as he got closer. “Alright, I’ll follow you.”

(Y/N) beamed before turning around to nod at each one of her guards, dismissing them. When they had left, presumably returning to (Y/N)’s family estate, she reached down for him, her hand extended for him to take. Placing his rough palm into her warm hand, he allowed her to help him up into the saddle behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist to keep himself secure as (Y/N) kicked Sashay into an easy canter. Sighing blissfully, Levi let himself relax, his chin coming down to rest on (Y/N)’s shoulder as they made their way home, together.

Levi had never expected to see the day when he would willingly go with a noble, but then again, he never thought he’d ever meet a noble like (Y/N). Now, as he felt her warmth soak into his chest, he knew he’d made the right decision.

Levi finally felt the remnant effects of the drugs in his system fade away as the sun beams broke through the fluffy clouds in the sky, leaving his mind clear. He was making this decision all on his own, nothing left to impair his judgement, and no matter what, he knew he would never regret the path he chose to take just so long as (Y/N) stayed by his side.

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thebookreader12345 · 3 years

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On the Loose - Chapter Three

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Four Chapter Five

The coffee in my system helped me wake up a bit, but I was still pretty tired considering that I had been shaken awake at around 5:00 in the morning. I yawned and rubbed my eyes again as Jay pulled up to our newest scene. I stepped out of the truck and glanced around to see police vehicles everywhere, along with a few crime scene investigators waiting for us to view the scene so that they could gather all of the evidence. The bright blue and red flashing lights of the police cars clashed with the light color of the barely morning sky, giving the street an almost unsettling look.

“Uh, hey. Detectives Halstead and L/N. Is Sergeant Voight here yet?” Jay asked the nearest officer, who nodded and pointed to the direction of the house we had appeared in front of. Jay thanked him quickly and started off towards the front door with me following behind him. It didn’t take us long to find the body because as soon as we stepped inside, we were met with a blood trail leading to the bedroom. And when we entered said room, I was greeted by a crime scene that looked very similar to the others. Except this time, something was different. There wasn’t a letter for me in sight, and instead, on the foot of the bed, right below the victim’s body, was a huge book. A photo album.

“Anybody open it yet?” I question. My voice caused Voight, Hailey and Adam, those in the room from the team, to look up at the sound of my voice.

“It’s addressed to you,” Adam responded. “Forensics dusted for prints and found nothing, so it’s safe for you to touch.”

“I’d rather not touch it, but I don’t want to offend the killer,” I counter and take a huge step over the puddle of blood in front of me. It hadn’t had time to dry yet, which meant this kill was fresh. Recent. Perhaps very recent. “Well, lets see what my admirer has to give to me today.” I reached forward and slipped my fingers under the front cover of the album, flipping it to the side to reveal the first page. The first page’s pictures were all of our first victim. One showed our victim bound and gagged, but still conscious on the warehouse floor. And the second showed her dead with dozens of stab wounds on her body. The second half of the page was of our second victim, the one found in her house, which was also where we found our first note. Again, the first picture was of our victim alive, this time unconscious. The second, the dead body. I then flipped the page and came to our third victim’s photos taken when she was alive, and when she was dead. On the other half of the second page was a letter.

“Terra Bretton was my first victim. I remember the first time I saw her. She looked so much like you, Y/N, that I was transported back to the time when you destroyed my life. Everything was taken away from me just like that. When I saw Terra that day, I got angry, so when she was closing up her bakery, and no one was around, I kidnapped her and then I took her to an abandoned warehouse on the other side of town. That’s where I killed her, stabbing her so many times to rid my body of the hatred it held for you. Killing made me feel better, and so, when I saw my second victim, Addison Reed, I knew I had to do it again. She was a lot feistier than Terra, and when I broke into her house, she fought back. I didn’t want to kill her while she was unconscious because I wanted to see her squirm, but she wouldn’t stop talking, so I chloroformed her. A few minutes after the chemicals had set in, I struck. Again, I used my method of choice; stabbing. My third victim, the one lying dead in front of you, is Luci Denton. I saw her around a lot, and every time I caught a glimpse of her, I was reminded of you. I followed her home one night, and when she got out of her car, I was ready for her. I placed my knife against her throat and led her inside of her house where my attack began. I stabbed her once in the stomach, breaking the skin easily. As she bled, I dragged her body into the living room where I stabbed her a few more times, and finally, to the bedroom, where I ended her life with a knife to the heart, the blow that killed her. You may think that because you’ve got a whole team of police officers to back you up during the day and a detective for a boyfriend sleeping with you at nights that I won’t dare to come for you. But I will. I won’t stop until I kill you, and be warned, you’re next.”

“Well, that was comforting,” I murmur and close the album.

“Sarge, I think this is getting too far. Y/N’s life is in danger. We need to catch this bastard,” Jay exclaimed.

“And I understand that, but we’ve got nothing. There hasn’t been any forensic evidence at any of the scenes, and we’ve got almost no leads. The best we can do is continue combing through all of the cases Y/N has worked on and hope we find our guy,” Voight spoke.

“Um, hey. Do you mind if I keep this?” I ask the nearest CSI. She shook her head, and I thanked her before grabbing the photo album, holding it against my side.

“What do you plan to do with that?” Hailey questioned.

I shrugged. “Maybe something will jump out at me.” We left the crime scene quickly and headed back to the district to start working. Kevin and Kim were already in the bullpen going through files when we arrived. I slid into my desk chair and got straight to work. The first thing I did was re-read the note that came along with the photo album, and something jumped out at me. Our killer had said that he saw Luci around a lot. That could either mean he was always near where she worked or her house. That’s when I got an idea. I dug deeper into Luci and discovered where she worked, a book store out in Humboldt Park. Then, I started searching for PODs that might have a view of that building. After searching for a bit, I finally found a camera that was on the same street as Luci’s workplace, but the problem was, its view didn’t quite reach where Luci worked. I could see part of the store, but not the entrance. I guess that would have to do. I started scanning the footage, trying to remember as many faces as I could, but it didn’t do me much good because there were so many people passing by, and many of them could have fit the description of our killer. By now, it was 8:00 in the morning, and the bookstore’s website said that they were open, so I figured I’d head down there to see if there were any cameras that actually had a view of the bookstore’s entrance, and maybe see if anyone who worked there could ID our killer. “I’ll be right back,” I tell the team and stand up, grabbing my coat as I did.

“Where are you going?” Kim asked me.

“I just need some fresh air,” I lie. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“Y/N,” Jay started.

“I said I need some air,” I repeat. “So just give me a few minutes, okay?” And with that, I pulled on my coat and exited the bullpen. It was about a fifteen minute drive to the bookstore, and when I climbed out of my car, I spotted someone sitting at the front desk inside. I pushed the door open gently, and a bell jingled above me, signaling that I had entered the store. The woman at the desk looked up and gave me a small smile, which I returned, and set down the book she was reading.

“Can I help you?” the woman, whose name tag read Lila, asked.

“Yeah,” I reply and show her my badge. “I was wondering if you could answer a few questions for me.”

“This is about Luci, right? I saw it on the news this morning,” Lila confessed.

“Were you guys close?” I question.

Lila shook her head. “We never spoke outside of work. As soon as we both left after closing, we went our separate ways. She texted me a few times, but they were all work related texts. Things like she’d be late for work or couldn’t come in because she was sick or something.”

“Okay. Uh, this past week, have you seen any guys around here: blonde, green eyes, thirtyish, on the taller side?” I ask. Lila hesitated, meaning she probably knew what I was talking about, but she didn’t answer my question and looked out the front window. “Lila? Have you seen the man I described?”

“I don’t believe I have,” Lila responded. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.”

“Lila, you’re impeding a murder investigation, and by lying, you’re committing obstruction, which means you’ll get up to three years in prison along with a pretty expensive fine. And I know for a fact that you won’t be able to pay it off with the salary you get from working at a bookstore. So tell me what you know,” I demand.

“H-he said he’d kill me,” Lila stammered out, tears brimming the corners of her eyes. “He said that if I talked to the police, he’d find me and kill me.”

“When was this?” I question. Lila didn’t answer the question and looked down at her hands. “Lila, I promise that you’ll be kept safe, okay? I just need you to tell me what happened.”

Lila sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “A man came in this morning right as we opened that fit your description. I had seen him around a lot. He came in a few times asking to speak to Luci, but she told me that someone who looked like him and been following her the past few days, so I always told him no. When he came in this morning, I somehow knew he had killed her. I just knew. He threatened me, said he’d kill me and anyone I loved if I told the cops that he’d been stalking her.”

“Okay. Did you happen to catch his name?” I ask.

Lila nodded. “He said his name was Jeffery something.” That’s when something hit me. Or should I say, someone.

“Was it perhaps Jeffery Smaldor?” I question.

“Yeah. That’s it,” Lila responded.

“Okay. Um, I think it’s best you take the day off. Head down to the 21st district and say Detective L/N wants you in witness protection. Thank you for the help,” I tell her before leaving the store. As I got back to my car, I had the feeling that someone was following me, but when I turned around, no one was there. The whole street was empty. I pulled out my keys to unlock my car, and that’s when I felt a pinch in my neck. I reached up, my hands brushing against a needle, and suddenly, my whole body went limp. I then collapsed against my car, my keys falling to the ground. Hands grasped at my waist and turned my body around, and that’s when I saw him. Jeffery Smaldor. The man I was after.

“Hey, Y/N. I heard you were looking for me. Looks like I found you first,” Jeffery spoke and smirked. And with that, my eyes began drifting close, and after a few seconds, I fell unconscious into Jeffery’s arms.

_______________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13 @dreamingmanip @campingmonkey @winterberryfox @nevertoofarfromivar @anotherfan07 @giagma @mrspeacem1nusone @i-like-sparkly-things

#one chicago #chicago pd #chicago pd x reader #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd imagines #jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead imagines #jay halstead x reader #intelligence unit #district 21 #multi chapter #murder mystery #mystery #x reader #imagines #imagine

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weallsimpfordabi · 3 years

Text

Switching Sides (Part Two)

Find the other parts here

A/N: More people are excited about this than I thought! Thank you for the support, guys, I really do appreciate it, more than you know 🥺

Pairing: Dabi x Reader, Ex!Bakugou x Reader

Word Count: 2,467 (got a little carried away)

Warnings: Cursing, choking, mentions of possible death, Dabi

Tag List: @platinumbelle @sweet-bunny-writing @bunbunsblog

“We want you to get any information you can about the school itself. If you hear about any faults in the security system, any teachers being sick, anything like that, you are to report to me and only me, kitten. Don’t trust anyone else here with that information, okay?”

———

As you fought off your grogginess the next morning, you had hoped that everything was a dream. Although, when you finally opened your eyes and saw Katsuki’s room, you sighed softly, rolling over to look at the ceiling. The night before had actually happened. You really had been kidnapped by a crazy and dangerous villain, forced to help them get information about the people you hold dear, otherwise they’d all die. And the cherry on top, of course, was a text waiting for you on your phone when you looked at it.

Master: Morning, kitten. I took your phone while you were sitting all pretty and gagged with my belt. Don’t forget what we talked about last night. I’ll know if you try to tell someone, so don’t. Meet me later on your patrols, same place. I’ll be waiting.

You rolled your eyes, changing his name immediately. There was no way you’d ever call him that, nor would you allow him to think that he was your master. You got out of Bakugou’s bed, walking over to his desk where a note was sitting, waiting for you.

Hey Idiot,

You looked really tired so I didn’t bother waking you up. I’ll tell the teachers you’re not feeling well. Don’t stay out all night again, I won’t cover for you again, dumbass.

We need to talk later. Don’t make me worry about you like that, teddy bear.

-‘Suki

You smiled softly, reading over the note again. Even after everything, you knew that he cared about you. He even used the pet name. Though it’s rare now, it still makes your heart melt. You folded the letter, putting it in your pocket before heading to your room. Your uniform had gotten quite wrinkled the night before, but luckily you always kept a few just in case. You changed into a fresh outfit, checking the time so you knew which class to get to.

On your way to your class, you heard footsteps behind you. You kept walking until you heard your last name called. You stopped, looking behind you to see All Might walking up to you, a worried look on his face. You fully turned towards him, a weary smile on your face as you waited to see what he was gonna say.

“Y/L/N, I heard you weren’t feeling well. Are you okay?” He seemed so worried about you, which of course he was. He told you last year that you were one of the most promising students at the school and that he was excited to see you become a pro hero one day. You cherished that moment, even to this day. You nodded, hoping that was everything he wanted to say. Of course it wasn’t. “Well, I need to talk to you, come to the teachers lounge with me.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach as you nodded once again, following his footsteps. Maybe he had found out that you were with the League of Villains last night. Maybe somehow he knew that you were a mole and you were about to be arrested. You fully expected to see the principal accompanied by the police force when the door opened.

Luckily for you, when the door opened, there were just a few teachers inside. All Might lead you to the green couches, offering to make you some tea. You thanked him, fidgeting with your thumbs as he did so. You looked around the room, taking in the decorations as you were sure the next scenery that would surround you would be a cell. All Might sat across from you, setting down two cups of tea.

“Y/L/N, we got notice from your agency that you never reported back from patrols last night. What happened? Did you run into any trouble on your route?” He took a short sip from the steaming tea, keeping his eyes on you. You shifted slightly, grabbing your cup so you had just a little more time to come up with something believable. You had a good record with the teachers, so they’d probably buy whatever you were about to sell them. After your scolding and torturously long sip, you set the cup back down and crossed your ankles.

“I’m sorry for worrying you, All Might. I did run into a little trouble, actually, but nothing too terrible.” Be careful, you thought to yourself. You were very close to just spilling everything. You knew you probably should have, but the image of All Might lying bloody and dead in front of you suddenly shot into your mind. You cleared your throat and All Might suddenly had a stern look on his face. “There was a kid whose mother had let go of his hand. He just started crossing the street without looking, and there was traffic. I barely got to him before he was hit. I guess I was so shaken up that I just came back to the dorms and went to sleep.” He hummed, his sternness quickly melting into sympathy.

“Oh, I see. Well, I’m glad you and that child are okay. But you know if you want to be a pro, you can’t let things get to you that way. Remember what I told you when we first met? You have to seem brave-“

“Even if you’re terrified.” You both finished together, a smile spreading both of your lips. He stood slightly, reaching his hand to grasp yours. You held it, your grip becoming a little tighter than you had meant it to. He looked down at your hand, his eyes glazing over with what seemed like deep thought. You kept your eyes on him, feeling your brows furrowing in desperation. You wanted to tell him, you needed to feel like you could be safe. Your knuckles turned white, and you realized you were probably hurting him. You let go, standing quickly. “I’m sorry, All Might. I’ll let my agency know when I go back out there after school.” He nodded, sending you on your way. You got out of there as quickly as you could, almost running to your class.

———

“So glad you decided to follow my orders. Such a good girl for me, aren’t you, baby doll?” Dabi smiled smugly as you glared at him. How could he be so cocky? You rolled your eyes, keeping a few feet of distance between the two of you. He held his hand out to you, a warp gate appearing behind him. You took a deep breath, then took his hand. He kissed the back of your hand before pulling you into the warp gate, squeezing you against him. When you two appeared in the hideout, you escaped from his grasp and pushed him away.

“Don’t touch me, it’s completely unnecessary, Dabi!” You whined, making sure to keep the distance this time. He chuckled, shaking his head before walking over to the couch and falling onto his back. He spread his thighs apart, one leg over the top of the couch and the other hanging off as he put his arms under his head.

“Oh, kitten, we’re really gonna have to work on that attitude. I guess I’ll have to be the one to fix it for you.” He smirked, sending a cold chill down your spine. You crossed your arms, and his eyes traveled to your chest. You immediately uncrossed your arms, fighting back the urge to throw something at him. “What information did you get for your master today?”

“First, I got no information. You wanna know why, Dabi? Because I got chastised instead since you thought keeping me here past my check in time was a good idea. I was supposed to report back to my agency before I went home, so now I’m in trouble. Second, you’re no one's master, but you’re especially not mine!” Your voice had gotten higher in volume than you meant, and Dabi’s demeanor changed very quickly, making you nervous. He stood, walking over to you. You froze again, cursing yourself for being so weak. His fingers squeezed your face, making your lips pout, his thumb starting to run over your bottom lip.

“Careful, little mouse, you are about to piss me off if you don’t watch that tone. And trust me,” he leaned in so close that you could smell the faint scent of a cigarette on his breath, “you don’t want to push me to that point. I’ll make sure you forget everything except my name.” You felt your knees get weak, which just confused you. You decided to push your luck a little more, a deviant raise of your eyebrow giving him a warning.

“Little mouse? What happened to ‘kitten’? Have I been demoted? What a shame.” He chuckled darkly, grabbing your hip with his free hand. Next thing you knew, you were pressed against the wall, his strength not holding back at all.

“Quite the opposite, baby doll. With that little stunt you just pulled, I’ve decided that I want to become the cat instead.” He looked over you, drinking in your expression as realization set in. He’s now the cat, and you’re the mouse. You whimpered, his hold on you starting to hurt. He leaned his head in, his lips brushing over your ear. “It doesn’t matter how much you wanna fight me, little mouse. The chase will continue until I have you begging for me.”

“That’ll never happen. Especially if you keep holding me here until after dark. They’re gonna get suspicious and find out everything, and then you’ll be in jail, where you belong,” you spat. He hummed, the vibrations of his voice sending more chills through your body. Though, it seemed they had a different destination than your spinal cord.

“I’ll accommodate that, then. I’ll have you back on time. Just don’t abuse my kindness. I’ll find out if you’re double crossing me, I have ears all over the place. Get me any information regarding what we talked about, no matter if it’s just a sentence or a whole speech. Anything helps both of us.”

“You’re insane.” You spoke without thinking, and you closed your eyes, ready for any impact. Instead, his body retreated from yours, his warmth no longer there. You opened them, looking at him. His hands were suddenly in his pockets, his gaze falling towards the floor. You tilted your head slightly, wondering what just happened.

“It’s six, you need to go back, right?” You nodded, still confused by this side of him you were seeing. He held up a finger to you, ordering you to wait while he walked away. You leaned back against the wall, your hand going to your face where he had his hand. Before you could really process anything, he walked back in and the warp gate opened. He nodded towards it, urging you to leave. You didn’t need much convincing, so you headed towards it. When you were inches away, he grabbed your wrist, lookin right at you with those eyes. “Check in with me when you get back to UA. I want to know where you are, so I expect at least a text when you go anywhere. Be good, little mouse, I’ll find out if you aren’t and punishment from me is probably the last thing you want.” He kissed the back of your hand once again before softly pushing you through the gate.

———

When you did get back to the dorms, you saw that everyone had already eaten and gone their separate ways, except the few people in the living room area. You made some small talk, assuring everyone you were okay before heading to Katsuki’s room. He had welcomed you in, bowls of tonkotsu ramen waiting for the both of you to eat. A sense of relief washed over you as you walked in, immediately going for the food.

“So, you wanna tell me what you were doing last night, dumbass?” He asked between bites, making you sigh and put your bowl down. You should have known better, of course you wouldn’t be able to just relax. You looked over at him, deciding to just eat anyway. You didn’t want to talk about it with anyone, but especially not him. He always had a way of getting things out of you and you didn’t need that right now, not if it meant his life would be in immediate danger.

“‘Suki, can we please talk about this tomorrow? I’m really tired and I still have to walk across the dorms to get to my room.” You took a long drink of the broth, the warm liquid soothing your throat. He let out a short but angry breath, doing the same as you.

“Fine. But don’t think you can escape this conversation again. I mean it.” He gave you a stern look, and you just smiled at him. You stopped being intimidated by him during your relationship. You reached over, holding his cheek in your palm. He instinctively leaned into your touch, his anger melting away.

“Don’t worry so much about me, ‘Suki, I’ll be okay. We can talk about it tomorrow. Thanks for the food.” You stood, grabbing both of your bowls so you could take it to the kitchen and wash them. He stood, his soft hand running down your arm. You turned your head to look back at him and he sighed.

“I can’t not worry about you, dumbass. No matter what, you’re still my teddy bear.” He bit his lip, then got that stern face again. “Just don’t go repeating that to anyone, dumbass.” You turned around, pressing a kiss to his cheek before leaving his room.

As you laid your head down on your pillow, you started thinking about what happened at the hideout. You called Dabi insane and suddenly he just got quiet. Like you had hit a nerve. You pulled out your phone, texting him that you were at the dorms now. As much as you didn’t really want to keep in touch, you felt an obligation to. Though, when the text tone sounded off, your heart felt as though it skipped a beat.

Asshole: Good to know. Go to bed, little mouse, and don’t forget to dream about me.

You groaned, putting your phone on the nightstand beside your bed. You needed to stop thinking about him, he’s just a nuisance and you didn’t want to waste time thinking about him. Though, that’s the only thing you could do until you fell asleep.

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waka-chan-out · 3 years

Note

hello! i was just wondering how you started out your page, like any tips? I love your work so much 😤✋💕

well, first of all thank you very much! i’m surprised and flattered that you would ask me!

in all honesty, i don’t know how i got here. i feel like i blacked out at 300 followers and now i’m at 1.2k. but i can try to offer some tips! i know i looked at some tip posts when i was first starting and didn’t follow most of them, so i’ll let you know what’s been useful to me. obviously remember this is what worked for me and it may not apply to everybody. i acquired this audience completely by accident, so those that are actively working to build a page might give you different tips.

((keep in mind this all applies to fanfic blogs because that’s all i have experience in.))

things to do:

first of all, and this is pretty obvious: tag everything you think applies. it seems excessive in the moment but it’s the only reason anyone ever saw my stuff lmao. like for any specific character in my posts will have a whole slew of tags (and this is for my nsfw posts) like:

ushijima smut ushijima x reader ushiwaka smut ushiwaka x reader haikyuu smut haikyuu x reader hq smut hq x reader

going along with that, oh my god, come up with a tagging system. even if you don’t think you need to tag something, you probably do. so many headcanons of mine are lost to time simply because i never tagged them and now i have over 600 posts. i’m never finding that shit again. tag it.

make a masterlist. it helps you and your followers stay sane and organized. i made mine because someone requested it, so that was cool. but if you make one early it’ll make your life easier.

find one uniform way to structure your posts. i know everyone feels differently about this, but it really does make life so much easier. i’ve been doing my “post timeskip, obviously, content warnings, etc” thing since my very first post, and it just makes me feel more organized and consistent. everyone’s posts will look different, so just look at what your favorite blogs do and mush all that together. you’ll find what you like eventually.

be clear what kind of audience you want. this can change and evolve, but try to start off with some idea of what you want. don’t want minors on your page? write minors dni EVERYWHERE and keep up with blocking pages. a rules list helps with this, but of course people like to just not check those, so be firm when your rules are bent or broken.

post a variety of content. it’s so much easier to rack up notes on a headcanon or thirst post then it is anything else, especially the type of fics i write where it has a lot of banter and build up before anything else.

it pays off to have a gimmick! i acquired the most followers from my 300 follower event and that’s been so nice.

this isn’t necessarily a “blog” tip, but oh my god, learn how to structure writing. i cannot tell you how off putting it is to try to read fics when paragraph breaks are used awkwardly or there are two people speaking in one paragraph. you don’t have to be a perfect writer to write fanfiction, but please at least learn the rules of writing. if you need help, ask. google things. i’m an english major that wants to write and edit for a living and i still look shit up all the time.

write what you like. you’ll find an audience. you don’t have to cater to anyone else’s tastes or preferences. one of my first few posts was a request, and that was only after i had posted one or two things. people will find you, and it will be people that also like what you like. don’t make yourself uncomfortable just to cater to someone else’s preferences.

be patient. you won’t get followers overnight. some blogs grow quickly and others don’t. that’s just how it is. also don’t be too demanding with your followers. don’t get pouty when people don’t interact, don’t be demanding about requests. just realize that you’re a person and so are they. they aren’t obligated to read just like you aren’t obligated to write. relax and realize it’s just a blog. you’ll be fine.

edit: I ALMOST FORGOT !! be inclusive. holy shit. so many people will read your writing and though you shouldn’t write anything you’re uncomfortable with, it’s so easy to be inclusive. there are tips all over the place, but all you need to do is focus on the personality of the reader rather than their appearance. easy. i’m lucky enough to have a pretty diverse audience and it makes me so happy i could cry. i love knowing that people feel safe and included here.

what i haven’t found necessary:

making a tag list. i only made one recently, and even then i only have nine people on it. it’s not that necessary, unless you have a series that people want to see.

having a theme. seriously, don’t stress. even now i barely have a theme. it’s never been hard on me.

plugging your blog?? i don’t know if people actually do this but i saw a suggestion about it and it confused me to no end. i’ve never found that necessary, though it is nice having mutuals that reblog your stuff. still not totally necessary though. my only mutual was @tanzaniiite for the longest time and that’s literally just because i saw her follow me, saw that she was a writer, stalked her posts, and decided i wanted to follow her back. she was my 34th follower (yes i counted) and she’s still here. very much appreciated.

doing collabs. i didn’t even consider doing one until recently. they’re really not necessary.

self reblogs. another one that i think might help but isn’t necessary. i didn’t start doing these until i had acquired a larger audience. figure out what works for you, but i’ve unfollowed more than one blog just because of the sheer amount of self reblogs they do. i understand that they’re proud of their work and want it out there, but i just think there’s no way reblogging a new post every hour is necessary. obviously if you want to reblog your own content you can. but having a masterlist had made that unnecessary for me. one of my first posts had like 100 notes after it was first posted, and now it’s up to 600 when it hasn’t been on people’s pages in months. people will find your work if they want to find it.

obviously all of this is just my opinion and you should take it with a grain of salt. i started this blog randomly to post one tsukishima fic i had written for someone that i was told was good enough to post. i haven’t changed my writing structure or process since then, and i still have no god damn clue how tumblr works. it’s a lot less intimidating than it seems. i know it’s a different experience for everyone, but it’s an overwhelmingly loving community that is kind to new writers. i was lucky enough to grow fast and receive a lot of kindness, but that’s also because i put a crazy amount of effort into being kind back and posting consistently (and no one needs to be going at the pace i set towards the beginning of this blog. holy shit i was posting like every other day for a while.)

if you do decide to commit to trying to build an audience, let me know and i’d love to follow you! and if you’ll be writing (which i hope so because most of these tips are for fanfic blogs lmao) i’m always here to help with structure, beta reading, editing, etc. that’s literally what i want to do as a career so it’s never a burden on me. either way, good luck! it’s frustrating sometimes but if you have solid ideas and basic writing abilities you’ll be fine!

again, thank you so much and i’m so flattered you asked me 💞 i hope you have a lovely day darling.

#meg’s messages 📫#meg’s thoughts #⏰..meg

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lesbianlovelanguage · 4 years

Note

prompt: witch billy. and he gets it from neil.

Hi love! I hope you enjoy some witchy angst! And a little addition of some suggested Harringrove

Neil Hargrove is his own trigger warning, though there’s nothing too graphic in here!

---

Billie’s happiest memories were of her grandmother. Of her silver hair and deep laugh lines, of helping her tend the small garden in her front yard, of gentle whispers explaining what they were.

“Witches Billie, we are witches. Never forget.”

But her favorite memories were those of her grandmother’s stories. She wove wondrous tales of ancient deities, the Triple Goddess who watched over them from her place on the moon, the Horned God who wandered the forest and cast light upon them during the day, complete with figures dancing in the smoke and flame that constantly lived in her hearth. Above all, Billie cherished the kindness that poured out of her grandmother, the purest form of maternal love she would ever receive.

For her mother, Nellie Hargrove was the antithesis of her mother; rather than dancing figures above a gentle flame, Nellie was a blazing inferno that consumed everything in its path, and like a true wildfire, she held no desire to control the spread. As she grew older, she chose to reject the older methods passed down through the Hargrove matriarchy, instead pretending that she could ignore the fire in her blood and it would disappear. She had eventually gone as far as to leave the coven at the age of 18 and only returned when she became pregnant with Billie, and the coven became a group of convenient babysitters.

On the weekends, Billie was a true child of the moon and the forest, but Sunday night came about and her mother would whisk her away from the trees that whispered ancient stories and the breeze that played with her golden curls. This was Billie’s life for many years, tossed between her grandmother and Nellie, between acceptance and willful ignorance, until the week before her sixteenth birthday, the birthday on which every young witch attended a rite of passage and was officially inducted into the coven.

Rather than allowing her daughter to claim her place amongst the witches who had come before, Nellie had decided enough was enough, and stole her away in the night, picked up and moved their entire life up the coast of California where the coven would never find their lost member.

They couldn’t hide from the Mother Goddess though, who had blessed Billie with gifts far above those of any Hargrove previous, who put a fire in Billie’s blood that couldn’t be extinguished by any mortal means. And in order to aid her along her path, the Mother Goddess still sent her Fechin, a stubborn and calculating raven who appeared on the morning of her sixteenth birthday.

Nellie was beyond angry at this revelation. Her blood boiled and her vision turned red in rage as she saw the sleek, black bird following her only daughter silently through the kitchen.

It was the first day she laid hands on her daughter, but it was far from the last. In fact, it seemed that the attacks only got worse and worse as the months after her sixteenth birthday passed, leaving Billie with permanent cracks in her ribs and a myriad of bruises.

And then Simon and Max entered the picture. Suddenly the bruises were allowed to heal and Billie had to really mess up to deserve a slap, a true blessing. It didn’t stop the words, the sneers of how disgusting Billie was for believing in mythical nonsense her grandmother spewed, but at least she could breathe a little easier.

It had been ten months since Nellie had dragged them upstate, seven months since she had ensured the house was completely purged of any witchcraft paraphernalia, and four since their family grew. The one thing she could never banish was Fechin, but even he learned to hide when Nellie came home in order to protect his human. Logically speaking, there should have been nothing even remotely magical about Billie’s life anymore, but that didn’t stop her from developing a new and rather obscure ability.

She began to dream-share.

Billie hadn’t even realized what was happening for a while, as the only other person in her dreams was a girl she had never met who appeared to be around her age with large, doe eyes and the softest brown hair she had ever seen, and all they would do is sit in a clearing full of wildflowers, where they would lie side by side and enjoy the playful breeze or the stories the ancient trees would sometimes tell, just like Billie’s beloved childhood. They were the only moments of peace Billie got to experience, and she cherished them deeply, looked forward to them even. It wasn’t until about two weeks that the girl began speaking of her own life, speaking as if these had been her dreams rather than Billie’s. Billie had only vaguely heard of dream-sharing, and she was hesitant to truly believe this is what was happening, but her next dream stole the ability to feign ignorance.

Until it all came burning down in a single night. Instead of arriving in the usual clearing, Billie came to in the familiar and cozy living room of her grandmother’s cottage. The fire in the hearth was still blazing in the corner, and the overwhelming smell of thyme and sage wafted through the room, just as she remembered. She turned away from the hearth to find her grandmother sat in her usual rocking chair, just as she had so many times in her youth.

“Grandma? Is that really you?” Billie hesitated to ask, but she had to know. Was this really her grandma?

“Oh my sweet dear, it is me. But I’m afraid I don’t have much time. I made a deal with the Horned God, but even he could only give me a few mom-“

“Wait, the Horned God? What does he have to do with this, what deal did you make?” She was cut off with a stern glare, somehow still full of understanding and love.

“It will soon be my time, Billie, but never fear for me. Now listen. I know your mother wants to forget her heritage, and she is trying to get you to feel the same, but Billie, you cannot forget who you are. You are Billie Hargrove of the Hargrove Coven, descendent of the Mother Goddess and the Horned God, and one part of a whole. One day you must find your other half for the safety of all. Please Billie, don’t let your mother dowse your flame,” and just like the flames she talked about, Billie’s grandmother began to flicker in and out like the dying embers of a campfire. “G--dbye Bi--ie. I l--v- -ou.”

She felt herself lunge towards her grandmother, trying to grasp her shoulders and hold her close, but she simply glided through as if another person had never existed at all.

Billie was left alone in her grandmother’s cottage. In her absence, the shadows seemed to grow, until their inky tendrils reached her feet. Panic coursed through her, and as the adrenaline flooded her system she felt the temperature of the room rise. She looked down and found her body set alight, burning from the inside out, and just before the fire could completely consume her,

She woke up.

But it seemed the nightmare wasn’t over, as she looked around and noticed that her bed was burned, as if her physical body had set aflame just like in her dreams. Fechin observed her silently from the blackened foot of her bed, head cocked in thought. It made Billie pause long enough to miss the smoke still lingering in the air, the last tendrils reaching up and spreading through her room. And then the smoke detector went off, and all chances of her hiding the evidence of her accident disappeared.

Nellie was angrier than Billie had ever seen, face resembling that of a tomato. Even the presence of Simon and Max couldn’t stop the near-death beating she received that night, only showing mercy when Simon suggested they take Billie to the hospital and saying it was a fall down the stairs.

It took her three days to be released, between a partially deflated lung, a broken arm, and countless bruises littering her torso, but Nellie wasn’t one to stay idle. In those three days, she had decided to pack up the Mayfield/Hargrove household and move them as far away as they could afford. It was the first time Billie had ever heard of Hawkins, Indiana and the name tasted like ash on her tongue.

---

So that’s a big ol’ cliffhanger, and I have some idea of where it can go. Let me know if that’s something y’all would want!

tag team: @lostnoise @gideongrace @stevefuckingharrington @a-magey @trashmouth-hargrove @catharrington @trashycatarcade @myboyfriendsteve @thesummerof84 (lmk if you would like to be added/removed from the list!)

#tay writes #harringrove #fem!harringrove #fem!billy #fem!steve harrington #witch au #so these witches are like a combo of elemental magic and wiccan practices #i hope it made sense..

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thejollyroger-writer · 4 years

Text

home is the sailor, home from the sea - CSJJ 2020

SUMMARY: Killian Jones, captain of the Misthaven Royal Guard and best friend to Crown Princess Emma, just lost some of his best men in a skirmish with Camelot, including his co-captain and brother Liam and Neal Cassidy, the father of Emma's eight year old son. But losing these men wasn't the hard part -- telling Emma is. Will these losses finally give them each the courage they need to give in to their long-ignored feelings for each other?

read on AO3 - rated G

(but with 2 character deaths before the start of the story, because nothing I write is joyful, apparently)

a/n: I would personally like to thank the lovely ladies in the @csjanuaryjoy discord for kicking my ass into gear and getting to me start (and finish) something this winter break, where I have failed to finish anything else. Without the constant sprinting of @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @profdanglaisstuff and @stahlop, this fic probably would never have been finished. Title taken from Robert Louis Stevenson’s “Requiem.”

Also tagging: @kmomof4 @let-it-raines @wellhellotragic @kmomof4 @thisonesatellite @darkcolinodonorgasm @scientificapricot @teamhook @captainsjedi @lifeinahole27

someday I’ll be posting regularly again and will have a list of people to tag -- if I forgot you, I’m so sorry, it’s just because it’s been a while since I’ve done this

Every other time Killian Jones has sailed back into Misthaven’s harbor, he’s been excited to see the shores of his homeland. He’s felt the familiar adrenaline rushing through his veins, taken a deep breath to take in the familiar smell of the shore and the fields and home, waited impatiently to feel the familiar sand and dirt and gravel beneath his feet.

Not this time. This time, everything is different. This time, everything has changed.

He’s still not quite sure how it happened. It was just a skirmish, the size of Camelot’s ship not even supposed to be enough to worry the large Misthaven frigate. And it was fast — the ship appeared, as if from nowhere; the battle was over in what felt like moments, and in the blink of an eye, his whole world was turned upside-down.

He blinked, and it was over.

His whole world was over.

On one end of the deck, his best friend was bleeding out from a wound that the medics couldn’t seem to control. On the other, he sat with his brother’s body in his lap, watching the life drain from his face due to a wound that didn’t even exist — of course, just their luck, given this is the single trip they both went on, one of them usually staying behind to continue with their royal duties. His own wounds were small, seemingly meaningless, as the medic wrapped up his now-blunted arm, all compared to Liam dying in his arms. To Neal dying across the ship.

His mind stopped. His life stopped. It’s almost as if he left his own body, watching from the sidelines as the medics pulled Liam’s body off his lap. As they wrapped him and Neal and the other two men killed in the Camelot skirmish in linens and Misthaven flags, saluted to their captain, and gave them the burial at sea that they deserved.

But that wasn’t even the hard part. This, what he has to do now, this is the hard part.

Of course, she is waiting on the dock for them by the time they're getting off, a simple white cotton dress blowing around her from the breeze coming off the water, and the sight of her tennis shoes would make him smile on any other occasion, knowing that she would prefer to be barefoot. Of course she’s waiting there for them, because she always does, she is always there waiting for him, looking like an angel with her golden halo of curls and those damn white cotton dresses that haunt both his dreams and his nightmares.

She’s there, and he has to break her heart. Her, and that cute little boy that he knows can’t be far.

Neal’s boy.

He still remembers the night he learned Henry was Neal’s, whispered secrets over one too many glasses of rum and a few too many games of hearts under the lights from the Christmas trees in the hallway. He wonders if Neal ever got the chance to apologize to her, ever told her that he wishes he could have been a better man, the kind of man that could have stayed with her instead of running as far away as he could, that avoided all responsibilities of being a father save the money he sent to Emma when he got the chance, using Killian and Liam to communicate with her because she refused to even talk to him.

Or, he wondered, if it was finally too late.

He’s in love with her, of course. He has been since the first moment he saw her, since the moment he and Liam were introduced as her royal guard while she hid away from the world to have Henry — one of the downfalls of being the Crown Princess of Misthaven, even in today’s more modern, modest society. He’s been in love with her for eight years, and there has never been anything he could do about it, since she has a child with his best friend. Since Neal never stopped loving her back, but wasn’t in a position to treat her the way she deserved, even though Emma claimed that her feelings for Neal left the moment he left her behind with Henry, always trying to get off the dock with her son before Neal got onto the dock, if Neal even chose to leave the ship. She would come for Liam, would come for him, but hadn’t spoken to Neal since the day he walked out the door, only getting wired payments and updates about their whereabouts through letters from and conversations with Killian and Liam.

But when she smiles at him as he walks down to the dock, he forgets about everything else but her radiance, if only for a moment. For a moment, the only thing on his mind is Emma, her smile and her beauty and her perfection.

And then, the moment is over. She is looking over his shoulder, looking for evidence of the battle that he knows she must have gotten word about by now through the castle’s constant updates from the navy.

“Hello, love,” he says, trying his best to muster up a smile for her, but he can tell immediately that it doesn’t work.

Her eyebrows knit together low on her forehead, searching his face for the answer to a question she hasn’t even asked yet.

“Killian?” is all she says, and he can feel himself already losing control of his emotions, already beginning to crack under the pressure of telling her.

“Scarlett!” he calls, turning over his shoulder to find his newly-appointed first mate — and the man who remains to take the place as his best friend — coming down the ramp behind him.

“Yes, sir?”

“Take young Henry back to the castle with you and have him join you for lunch while I speak with the princess, we won’t be too far behind.”

“Of course, sir,” Will responds, knowing full well exactly what conversation he and Emma are going to have in the captain’s cabin — in his cabin — granted he even makes it that far.

“Killian?” she says again as her son and Will Scarlett, along with the small crowd of crew, head for the castle, but he catches the quiver of his lip with his teeth, taking her hand in the one he has left and silently pulling her behind him. “Killian, please tell me what happened,” she practically begs, following him into the captain’s cabin, but the moment he closes the door behind her, he loses all control of himself.

The dam of emotions breaks, and he is at full liberty to everything he has held inside since the day before. His legs crumble beneath him, half-catching himself on the desk, not yet used to being one limb shorter, before he finds himself sitting on the floor.

And Emma, the angel, sits right beside him. Sets her hand on his arm, making sure that he knows she is there for him, even as he crumbles further into her lap. He has never been like this before, never lost control of his emotions to the point where he was a crumpled-up heap of a person, relying on someone else to console him. Not when his mother died, and certainly not when his father died.

But today? Everything is different today. He’s always comforted himself with the fact that he still has his brother, his best friend and his rock, to keep him safe. To keep him sane. When their father passed, even though they hadn’t been talking, he had a larger system behind him, he had Neal and Emma.

Now, it’s just him and Emma. Emma, with her family and her position and her duties to the crown; and him, with nothing, floating all alone in the ocean with no one around to save him.

Except her.

“Oh, Emma,” he mumbles, turning to wipe his nose against his sleeve instead of all over her dress. “I know you’ve — figured it out by now but — they’re gone, Emma,” he gets out between sobs, trying his best to stay as strong as he can, especially when he realizes that the tremors he feels are from sobs of her own. “We were — attacked, caught blind, and they — we only lost four — four men, but L-L-Liam was — was one of them, and — him and Neal, both, they—”

He can say no more. With the weight of Emma’s hand on his back, her forehead pressed just below it as she leans on him, he knows there’s nothing more he has to say.

Killian loses track of the time that passes, sitting on the floor of the captain’s cabin, the cabin that rightfully belongs to his brother. Between the swaying of the ship on the waves and the thump-thump of Emma’s heartbeat — of his own heartbeat? — in his ears, he could almost fall asleep, more worn down by the past day than he feels he may have ever been.

“We’re going to be okay, Killian,” Emma mumbles after a while, her forehead still pressed to his back. He realizes just how much his back is starting to ache, and when he moves to sit up, she lets him, leaning into him when he wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in to let him offer some of the same comfort that she has given him.

When he kisses her forehead, he wonders — not for the first time — if she knows. If she knows just how much he loves her, how much of his happiness comes from their companionship, especially now. Not that he can do anything about it now, any more than he could before.

“I know, love,” he whispers, keeping the rest of his thoughts to himself.

-----

“We have to tell Henry, you know,” she says, turning to him as they head up the hill towards the castle.

“Aye.”

“He’ll be devastated.”

This time, Killian just nods. Henry and Neal had a fraught relationship, sure, but they still had a relationship, based solely on the times Emma let Neal see him, always with either Killian or Liam around. Even a fraught relationship with a father is still a relationship, though — Killian learned that with his own father — and he’s sure that Henry will be much more devastated learning of Neal’s death than Killian was when he learned of Brennan's.

“God, how do you tell a seven-year-old kid that his father’s dead?” Emma asks, running her fingers through her hair.

Killian tries not to laugh, but it doesn’t work. When his chuckle does pass through his lips, Emma snaps her eyes to him, slapping his arm with the back of her hand.

“Killian, I’m serious!”

“I know, love,” he says, not even trying to keep the smile from his face. “It’s just — you certainly don’t tell him the way you just asked, is all.”

She smiles for a moment, but it disappears, replaced instead by intense thought until she turns to him, her bottom lip pulled up between her teeth. “Pardon me for asking, of course,” she says, her voice soft, and she crosses her arms over her chest. “But, how did — who told you — when you learned —”

Even with just the words that she’s managed to stutter, he knows exactly the question that she is trying to ask and stops her before she embarrasses herself anymore. “It was very formal, actually,” he says, surprising her, and when she turns to him, her eyes are wide. “These two men in uniforms knocked on our door one night, Liam and I were splitting a pizza and watching Wheel of Fortune, of all things. They gave us the whole spiel that you hear in the movies, you know, ‘We’re very sorry to inform you, but your father, Brennan Jones, has recently passed away.’ They gave us the rest of his commission and the few belongings he had with him in the Navy, apologized again, and left. But, I mean, we hadn’t seen him in a few years, certainly wasn’t expecting him to come back to Misthaven to stay with us, so nothing really changed, we just had a little more money and my mother’s wedding rings back, and we threw everything else in the sea.”

With his eyes cast to the road in front of them, he doesn’t pick up on the sadness that fills Emma’s expression with his story. She can’t imagine a life where she’s not close to her family, a world where her mother isn’t her best friend and her father doesn’t take time to ask about her day at the dinner table. She’s always had a soft spot for Killian, for both of the Jones brothers, actually — but for Killian more than anyone, though that’s a secret that she prefers to keep to herself.

It’s no wonder that she fell in love with him, though that doesn’t make it easier for her to cope. He showed up at her weakest moment, when she decided to stay in the protection of the Misthaven Guard through her pregnancy. Even with all of the regret that drowns the rest of the memories of Neal, there was never a question of keeping it, though she knows that the phrase almost fell from her father’s lips. Neal was a mistake, through and through, but Henry is far from it. Emma regrets nothing about Henry’s presence in her life, even with all the changes to her plans that he brought about.

And the fact that he brought Killian and Liam around certainly isn’t a downfall.

“I’m sorry, Killian,” she says, not even sure what else she could do. When she turns to him, he tries his best to find a smile, though it only lasts for a moment before disappearing into thin air.

But when she adds, “And I’m sorry about Liam, too,” he reaches out to wrap his hand around her forearm, pulling her to the side of the road, out of the way of the other pedestrians.

“He loved you, you know,” he says, unsure of where the words are coming from, though the brightness in her green eyes, the proudness that flashes through them, keeps him going. “Growing up, he would always tell me that his life would be so much better if he had a sister, and he was thrilled that he finally found his sister in you.”

He feels his heart pounding in his chest as she looks up at him, swears that, even with her red-rimmed eyes and the flyaways from her braided crown, she has never looked more beautiful — thu-thump, thu-thump — and then she moves in an instant, wrapping her arms around his waist to hug him, her face pressed tightly against his chest.

He knows they’re drawing attention from the civilians, even in a realm where she has a lot of freedom, where people know how close she is to the Jones brothers. Being close to them is one thing; hugging him in the middle of the road when most people wouldn’t have heard about the battle is another. He wants to usher her along, to move her away from the crowd, at least, though he certainly is in no hurry to get to their impending conversation with Henry. But when she makes no motion to leave after a few more pounding beats of his heart, he knows he needs to do something.

“Emma, love, we should keep moving,” he mumbles, daring to press his lips into her hair.

“Why, are you in a hurry to get to the castle?” she asks with a soft chuckle. “To get to Henry?”

“My job is to protect you,” he says, looking around at the townsfolk turning their attention towards them as they walk past. “That includes protecting you from rumors, which are going to run rampant if we stand here for much longer.”

Pulling away from him, she nods. Killian is a lot of things, and while stubborn is one of them, he is also smart — there’s a reason that he was made a captain of her personal guard when he was just 22, even if it was under the watchful eye of his older brother. And he’s right, too, though that would be the last thing she admitted to him. She heard about the naval battle through the line from the ship and August, who updates her when necessary, but the townsfolk don’t have the same sources of information. They don’t know about the skirmish with Camelot, about the loss of some of Misthaven’s men, Captain Liam Jones among them. And even if they did, who’s to say they wouldn’t still make assumptions?

Emma’s dealt with more than enough rumors in her 28 years, especially in the last eight since she became pregnant with Henry. She’s more than prepared to deal with them, though she would never ask to have to go through it again.

She nods. “Alright,” she says, taking a step away from him, her hands falling to her side. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They don’t have to make it all the way to the castle before finding the young man in question, out on the lawn with Will, August, and some of the other navy men, but when he sees Emma and Killian approaching, he drops the ball in his hands and takes off towards them, wrapping his arms around Killian’s legs.

“Killy!”

Killian has to choke back the sob that rips through his body with Henry’s embrace. Such a clever, brilliant, and perfect young man — such a young young man, too pure to already be at liberty to the evils of the world. To already have lost so much before the age of eight, even younger than Killian was when he lost his mother. He’s too good for this world.

Swallowing the sob, Killian bends down to embrace the young boy back. “Hello, lad.”

“Do you know where my dad is?”

Right to the point.

Killian doesn’t know what to say. He’s not even sure that, if he did have the words, he would be able to get through them without breaking down.

Hell, he may break down without saying anything at all.

He does the only thing he can think of, turning his eyes up to Emma, pleading with her — with the universe to give her the strength — to take over for him.

One of them — Emma or the universe, he’s not sure — answers his cry for help.

“Henry, honey,” she says, reaching down to gently pull him away from Killian by the shoulder. “I think we should — why don’t we all go up to your room and you can show Killian your new video game, alright?”

“You can come with us? You don’t have to go back to work?”

Henry has a point. Killian knows it. Emma knows it. He has so much that he should be doing, more than a handful of royal duties that are now on his to-do list, both old ones and new, that he has taken up with the death of his brother.

But this is more. More important, more detrimental, more time-sensitive. It’s the least he could do, really, join them for the next few hours, help Emma share the news of Neal and Liam’s deaths with the boy, especially since he knows the moment he stops moving, his grief will catch up with him again, just like it did in the captain’s cabin. She must know this, of course, but still waits for him to answer Henry’s question.

“Of course I can come with.”

Henry’s smile, which disappeared for a moment, grows wide again. “Great!” he says, enthusiastically reaching up to take one of Emma’s hands and one of his.

They make it most of the way back to his room in silence, the halls echoing with their footsteps in the silence of the castle, with Henry smiling contentedly up at one of them every once in a while.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you both avoided the question about my dad,” he says, walking under Killian’s arm as it holds open his bedroom door.

Pausing for a moment in the doorway, Killian and Emma share a look. They both know that Henry is much smarter than many people give him credit for, know that Henry must have asked more than one of his officers about Neal, and Killian is assuming that they all ignored the question the same way both he and Emma did.

Emma moves through the doorway, ducking under Killians arm; sighing, he follows her, closing the door behind them.

Apparently, Henry has run out of patience, deciding this is the moment when Emma and Killian need to come clean of whatever secret they have been hiding. He jumps up on his bed, crossing his arms over his chest, as if that somehow made him more adult-looking in his Star Wars t-shirt while sitting on his dinosaur sheets.

“Now, are you guys going to tell me what happened, or are you going to keep pretending you can hide it from me?”

Killian almost wants to laugh at just how unbelievable this whole situation is. Almost.

“I know something happened on the ship, because both my dad and Uncle Liam are missing, and they didn't come back with you guys when you sent me with Will and the officers.”

Emma sits down next to him on the bed, trying to figure out just how to break the news to him. But when she turns back to Killian, he somehow suddenly has the strength to be the one to tell the lad about what happened — and to treat him like the adult, albeit a small one, that he believes himself to be.

“The ship got involved in a battle yesterday with a ship from another land,” Killian starts, surprising Emma as much as he seemed to surprise himself. “We were taken by surprise, and they were much faster than us, so we had no hope of outrunning them and making it back to Misthaven safely, and we had no choice but to fight. And it was during this fight that both Neal — your dad — and my brother received fatal wounds, wounds that even your grandfather’s best medics had no hope of saving them from.”

He’s upset, sure, and rightfully so, but holding himself together much better than Killian anticipated.

Much better than Killian himself did. For a moment, everyone is silent, Emma sliding her arm around Henry’s shoulders to pull him closer to her, and he allows it, the quiver of his lip and a sniffle of his nose almost enough to set Killian off again.

But he has to be strong. For Henry, he tells himself, though he knows the real reason is for the lad’s mother. For the woman who has already held him while he cried once today, and now has to do it for her son. The least he can do is be strong in this moment.

“What did you do with them?” he asks, his voice weak with the tickle of a sob in the back of his throat.

It’s just about the last question Killian expected, but he answers it as honestly as the last. “All naval officers get buried at sea, unless they have family that specifically ask for something else. Both Liam and your dad are now resting beneath the waves.”

Nodding, Henry allows one tear to fall down each cheek.

“Did he happen to leave me anything to remember him by?” This time, the words are barely a whisper, as if Henry is afraid to speak them — or, worse, if he is afraid of the answer he is going to be given.

But here, Killian can take a sigh of relief. “He had a small chest of things near his bunk on the ship, and I think some items in the room he shared with a few of his friends when they were ashore here. I’ve already started to see to it that everything of his gets brought to you, since you were the only family he had.”

Same with Liam.

The thought stings Killian’s eyes, remembering one of Liam’s last wishes: Give the boy my bars. There were two others, as well, though remembering those was a task for another time, maybe a time paired with a glass or three of rum in the solitary comfort of his room.

“And I, uh, have something for you from Liam, too,” he adds, both sets of eyes snapping back to meet his, both filled with both sadness and surprise. Reaching into the pocket of his slacks, he finds the bars in question — a position passed down to Killian, but a memento passed down to Henry. “These were his captain’s bars, and he always credited you and your mother for giving him the chance to get that far, so he wanted you to have them.”

While Emma’s eyes fill with tears, Henry’s fill with excitement, taking the pin from Killian’s outstretched hand. “Cool!” he says, most of the anguish gone from his voice. “Wait, does this mean you’re a captain now?”

All Killian can do is nod, amazed at the boy’s quick change in composure.

-----

It’s much later by the time he finally gets the chance to sit down with Emma again, the sun and Henry long since down for the night. He finds her not far from where he expects to, in a solitary corner of the library, a rocks glass with two fingers of her favorite scotch in one hand and a photo album balanced in her lap held with the other.

“I was wondering when you’d be around,” she says as he closes the door behind him, not even looking up from the book.

“Aye, I had a lot of paperwork to take care of before your father and Graham would let me go for the night.”

“It’s been a long day for all of us, I’m sure.”

When he doesn’t answer, pouring his own glass from one of the decanters over the fireplace, she finally lifts her eyes from the pages of the photo album to look at him. The stress of the day is written all over his body, from the sagging of his shoulders and the slump of his back to the bags under his reddened eyes, the dirt and blood on the gauze covering the end of his newly-blunted arm, and the way he throws back his first shot of rum before pouring a second into his glass.

There is so much she wants to do, so many ways she wishes she could help him through his grief, his exhaustion, his pain. Ways she wants to tell him that she’s here for him, that she has always been here for him, since he was barely 22 and walked into her father’s conference room for the first time. She wishes, as she always has, that she could wrap her arms around his neck, feel the warmth of his body beside hers as they embraced, tuck her head into the space between his head and his shoulder where she always had a feeling she would be the safest.

But, no. That would be unfair to him, using her position of power over him to use him for her own comfort.

Unless he feels the same way.

She has to shake the words from her mind, not for the first time and certainly not for the last. She has to stay put on the couch, keep her desires to herself, and just keep living in the way she has been, keeping this secret deep in the confines of her mind and only pulling it out when she is alone.

Or alone with him, which has been happening more often lately — and she’s afraid will continue to do so with his brother and partner in her personal protection team buried in the depths of the sea.

“Why did I let him go on this stupid voyage?”

Killian’s question pulls her out of her own mind — thankfully — and she turns her attention back to him, though he is staring into the fire, his arms crossed over his chest. He has changed out of his uniform, managed to find a set of his own clothes even though Emma is sure he hasn’t been able to leave the castle since he arrived here earlier. His dark jeans and grey tee-shirt make him look younger than the sharp edges and harsh blues of his uniform, his hair no longer gelled back but mussed up, a small amount of stubble beginning to grow across his cheeks. Like this, he reminds her more of the Killian that came with her to her college classes when she decided to go back, the man who no longer needed to to be strict and rigid and follow all of the rules when in her company, the man who finally started calling her Emma after years of oleading — the man she fell in love with.

“You can’t blame yourself for this.”

“Like hell I can’t. He was supposed to stay here with you and Henry this time, and he talked me into letting him come along because of that stupid crush he had on the princess from Arrendelle that we were going to visit.”

“Liam had a crush on Princess Elsa?” Emma asks, slightly taken aback, even though she knows that is not the point of what he’s trying to say.

Thankfully, he laughs, obvious more in the shake of his shoulders than the sound, and he takes another sip of his glass before turning away from the fire to face her. “Yes, he did. He thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and that’s the reason why he was on that damn ship and not here and safe and alive with you and your boy.”

“Killian, stop.” She closes the album, setting it and the glass down on the table next to her before pushing herself off the couch and closing the small distance between them. “You can’t go back and change what has already happened, and you know there is no way your brother ever would have let you talk him out of going after he made up his mind.”

His eyes turned towards the floor, he laughs again, a more obvious sound this time, and she is glad that she gets to be the one to help him see the light in his time of need. Still silent, he nods. A few beats pass, counted by the pounding of their hearts and the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner of the room, before he raises his eyes to her.

“And how are you doing, love?”

At first, she doesn’t even know how to answer. How is she doing? There are so many things she could tell him, so many different floodgates that could be opened — how does she choose just one?

Apparently, the answer is to just open her mouth and her brain will do the talking.

“How am I supposed to explain to Henry that, no, I’m not really upset over the death of his father because I stopped having feelings for the man before Henry was even born? That I can’t grieve for a man that I spent the last eight years avoiding because of how royally he fucked up?” Pushing the flyaways back towards her ponytail, she sits back down on the couch with her legs curled up under her, Killian taking the seat beside her with as much space between them as he can muster.

“All you can do is your best,” he tries, quoting a sure line from Liam, but Emma seems too caught up in her thoughts to hear him.

“Sometimes I just want to tell him just how much of an asshole Neal really was, especially to me, but he really seems to almost worship the man, the way he got to serve his country and travel all over the realms, when really he just did it so he didn’t have to be around here, be around me.”

“Let him believe what he wants for now.” This time when he speaks, Emma turns towards him, her bottom lip pulled up between her teeth. “He’s just a boy, he can have this perfect picture of his dad in his mind for a while still before it gets ripped out from under him.”

She nods, pauses, then opens another floodgate. “And what about Liam? He doesn’t understand why I’m more upset about Liam than I am about Neal, even though you and Liam have done more for me than that man ever even thought about doing. Henry lost his father, you lost your brother and your best friend, and what have I lost? Am I an asshole for not grieving too much for either of them, because neither of them are the person that I’m most afraid to lose?”

His eyes have never left her face, but the expression of surprise — of regret? — that passes over it with the last few words is almost enough to make him look away.

He doesn’t. And after a moment, she turns her whole body on the couch to face him, eyes wide and flickering with the light from the fireplace. It’s almost too much.

“I don’t know what I would do if it was you that I lost, Killian,” she says, her voice barely a whisper.

He swallows the lump that has grown in his throat. “You don’t have to worry about that, love.”

“What if the next voyage is the one you don’t come back from?”

It’s a question that he’s asked himself before, a question that he thinks about each time he heads towards the harbor to sail away from Misthaven.

But it’s only the first half of the question.

“As I said, you don’t have to worry about that. Your father has changed my position to one that never requires I sail away again, unless I’m accompanying you on a ship.”

“What? But Killian, you love the sea, you can’t let him do that.”

“The sea took my brother and my father from me. I accepted the offer because I couldn’t stand the thought of letting it take the only other thing I’ve ever loved from me, as well.”

The words don’t register with her right away. If he’s honest with himself, it doesn’t immediately register to him that he actually spoke them until her eyes are growing wider with the realization of what he meant.

She shuffles ever-so-slowly closer to him on the loveseat, stopping before her knees make contact with his legs. There aren’t even words to the questions rattling around her brain, because he simply cannot mean what she wants him to mean.

All she can do is reach out, gently place her hand on his arm, and she’s hoping that it’s all the question he needs — hoping that she’s not misinterpreting this whole situation and making a fool of herself.

“Don’t you know, Emma?” he whispers, too afraid that he would lose this moment if he looked away from her even for a second. Her hand on his arm is warm, her cheek under his hand even warmer, but he imagines that they are nothing compared to the warmth of her lips finally meeting his. “It’s you.”

He doesn’t have to fill the rest of the space between them, because Emma does that for him. Kissing her is somehow better than his imagination ever led him to imagine, though he learns it is nothing compared to the gentle, warm smile that covers her face when he pulls away just enough to look at her.

Just enough to smile back.

“It’s always been you.”

#captain swan #cs january joy #csjj #cs fics #cs ff #captain swan fics #my writing #wordsbymeganmichael #my fics

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soaringsearingphoenix · 4 years

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You tease us about your life and put it in the tags but I would read a whole book about it. Your dad is a professional stunt man? And they have to hire them to fall down stairs?? Did he ever teach you any secrets?

Shush!! That was in the tags!!

Yeah my dad was a professional stuntman. It’s pretty dangerous so he doesn’t really do the whole “falling down stairs” and “getting hit by cars” thing now, but he’ll still be on sets once in a while as a stunt coordinator or a precision driver. (Precision driving is just any driving that takes place on a movie set - anything short of stunt driving, which is where you skid and jump over stuff and hit things)

I imagine when you say “secrets” you mean do i know how to fall or stage a fight and the answer is no. I think he didnt really want to encourage us to follow in his footsteps? And i wasnt exactly an athletic kid anyways. He is the one who taught me how to drive, though, which doesnt so much mean i’m a good driver as that i am a confident driver. But credit where credit is due, even though we bickered about driving he did make sure i practiced anything i wasn’t comfortable with until it was muscle memory.

Which isn’t to say i didn’t learn some secrets!! He knows the tricks of the trade, so he will point out little details in movies. Sometimes he was there! “In this scene, they had the glass hooked up to a system that would shatter it perfectly, but one of them didn’t work, so if you watch the left side, the whole panel just falls out.” Sometimes he wasn’t there, but recognizes the techniques used. “Oh, her hair is covering her face in that shot, so it’s probably a stunt double there.” And every once in a while, he will accidentally spoil a movie he’s never seen before as we’re watching it, because he’ll recognize some guy he knows who’s playing an extra and be like “hey! That’s Tony. He does ratchet pulls a lot. Watch, there’s about to be an explosion or something and he’ll go flying,” and sure enough within five minutes the guy is getting launched across the screen. I am not kidding. He did this when we were watching one of the Jurassic Park sequels.

I havent seen a lot of the movie’s he’s in, partly because they’re older and less well known, partly because i was too young for them when we would have watched them together, and partly because even when you can see his face it’s like... that’s my dad, who i love, getting punched and stuff. It’s fun to point him out when you see him for two seconds in the background of a peaceful scene though, or when a robot or something walks by and you’re like “that’s him in there!! That’s my dad!!”

Oh, the other secret I guess is that sometimes he will tell me a little bit about a movie set he’s on, and i might get to see the costume he’s in, but it’s not like i get to have the pictures because you can actually get in a bunch of trouble with the producers if you share behind the scenes stuff before the movie is out. People are secretive about their movies.

I remember once in high school i mentioned that my dad was in movies and someone in class was like “wow! Does that mean you’re, like, famous?” I think maybe if you have to ask someone if theyre famous, then the answer is probably no. But what do i know, i’m just an out of touch celebrity

I’m totally kidding. We really do not live a glamorous life. We watch the SAG awards in addition to the Oscars on TV and that’s about it. Oh, and six degrees of separation is really fun. If you know me, and i know my dad, and he has worked with Samuel L Jackson once, congrats youre like two degrees from Sam. I have not met these celebrities personally. Im just one degree away from ‘em. And thats about how i like it.

#who else? uhhhhhh. keanu reeves #um. whos that guy. ja rule #uhh. brent spiner i think #and dustin hoffman was at my first birthday party sooo you’re all only one degree from him #long post #my hollywood life i guess #thanks for asking!#if you have more questions about stunt men ask away #or feel free to dm me if u wanna chat about it

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xpouii · 5 years

Text

Tentacletober Day 19

Yes it’s late! Yes I skipped Day 18! Yes I’m very tired lol. This day is a sequel to Day 12--which is a sequel to Day 9. SO if you want to read the full series from the start, 9 then 12 then 19!

Prompt: Protective Tentacles

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Characters: Logan, Roman, Virgil, Remus

Warnings/Tags: SFW, Swearing, sleep issues, sleep deprivation, mentioned bulimia, mentioned seizures, mentioned hallucinations, mentioned sleepwalking, drug use, prescription medicine abuse, kissing, fainting, brief mentions of therapy, hospital stay and psychiatric evaluation. General apathy and sympathetic Remus

Logan grabbed the doorknob and heard the maid shout his name; he winced and turned, “Sarah, I really don’t have time to-“

She held up the dropper with a look of longsuffering. Logan opened his mouth and took the drops of CBD oil under his tongue before rushing out the door. He spat into the bushes, taking a sip of water and rinsing out his mouth as he crossed the large lawn, punching in the code to open the gate as he spat again. He climbed onto the bus and sat down, taking out his phone and checking the school’s portal. Mr. Stevenson still hadn’t graded the Calculus exams, and Logan grit his teeth, shoving his phone into his pocket. Even though his parents would never ask, Logan liked to have his grades updated and ready to show them when they came in on Wednesdays for dinner. He was starting to feel slowed, and he checked the time, firing off a text to Roman as he swallowed his last stashed Adderall, hoping his friend would have more today.

Logan had a schedule, just enough Adderall to last him until Wednesday, then he’d leave his new batch in his locked cello case until Thursday when his parents would no longer be home all evening and search his room. Then he hauled the cello home for his weekend lessons and used the school loaner on Friday. His mother would bring him on Monday mornings so he could bring the cello back and store it in the band room. Or Tuesday, if his mother was busy with meetings, like this week. Anytime Roman didn’t manage to palm enough Adderall—which was often—Logan would turn to the three other rich kids with prescriptions that were willing to sell—or trade for pot; Logan would take several pills a day, as many as it took to keep withdrawals at bay, unless he actually managed to run out. Logan’s parents were scientists, but his mother had gone on a natural medicine kick when the therapists had given up. So now he had a weed card, and a mother obsessed with monitoring his sleep—very unnecessarily. Logan had done plenty of research on the best ways to skip sleep, and other than days when his parents—or the maid—would watch him to make sure he didn’t spit out his treatments, or when his mother decided to try some new pot baked goods or when his father would smoke with him in some odd attempt to make Logan feel like they were bonding as men.

As infuriating as that was, it didn’t hold a candle to the way his mother would wail and beg him to sleep on the weekends. Ever since his first seizure she had been insufferable, unbearable in her smothering. Logan tried to be more careful now, keeping track of the Adderall and the CBD and the caffeine and the sleep he’d actually given in to. The seizures had been the first symptom of critical systems failure, but certainly not the worst. The hallucinations were bad, auditory worse than visual because Logan had a harder time dismissing them. Worst of all were the episodes where he’d black out, but his body would keep going. He’d broken through his bedroom window and rolled off the roof, falling down and cracking his left shoulder. Thank god for your mom’s azalea bushes! Sarah had shouted at him, watching him writhe in pain in the grass. The time he’d managed to scare her had been his most frightening time as well.

Logan had come to in the kitchen with a knife in his hand. Sarah was curled on the floor between the island and the oven, screaming for him to stop with the kitchen phone in her hand. He dropped the knife and started crying. He wanted to go to her for comfort. Sarah had raised him, after all, and Logan was six before he’d finally learned not to call her mommy. He was the monster, though, the bad thing he was scared of—and she was even more scared than he was. So, he turned around and went to his room, crying at his desk until the police and paramedics showed up. He’d spent a week in the hospital under strict psychiatric observation then. Logan had slept for 36 hours straight, and woken up with tears in his eyes. Both of his parents had been there, the whole time, and even now Logan’s heart would tighten at the warmth of the memory, waking up to their hugs and kisses and smiles.

Logan was pulled out of his nostalgia when his phone pinged. His mother’s contact photo popped up on his phone over the text Have a good day, sweetie! See you tonight! I’m making dessert!

Logan’s lip curled and he quickly checked his homework schedule, moving things around. His mother would definitely dose him tonight, which meant he’d sleep, and run behind. He would have exactly three hours from arriving home until his parents came in for dinner at 7 pm sharp. He could finish almost all of his homework, but the extra credit for Calculus 3 would have to wait until Thursday evening, pushing back his homework he planned to finish early in order to take a few hours off to watch Nasa’s livestream of the upcoming meteor shower. He swore under his breath. He hated missing the livestreams, especially when his parents would be bothering him about watching it. He wanted to, but he couldn’t fathom it now.

He jumped when the bus stopped short and he had to throw out his hand to save his face from hitting the seat in front of him. He straightened his glasses and scowled up at the man in the mirror. Behind him a rowdy pair of girls started shouting obscenities, blaming the driver for interrupting their impromptu makeup session. Logan rolled his eyes, reminded of Roman and Virgil. The thought of his friends brought a genuine smile to his face. Although Logan was put on edge by the mere thought of sex, romance or—god forbid—love, he did wonder when his friends would admit their feelings for one another. Even his own mother had noticed their shameless heart eyes for one another during their last concert. Logan had tried to stop her from calling Virgil’s dads, but the woman never listened to him no matter how loudly he shouted. It was one of the biggest reasons Logan didn’t bother getting angry anymore, especially with his parents; it accomplished nothing and it wasted precious energy.

A jab to the back of his head made him turn around, that well-hidden anger bubbling to the surface, but it dulled when he saw two of his usual suppliers had moved to the seat behind him. He glanced back to the usually inattentive driver and then dug in his backpack, producing the small parcels he usually divided his stash into for economical reasons. He set two between his feet and nudged them backwards, his eyes glued on the driver. A second later, the parcels were replaced with a pill bottle and he grabbed it, taking visual inventory of the total pills inside before shoving it into his backpack and zipping it. The two boys did the same, disappearing back into the proverbial crowd. The school was two stops away, and Logan had already gone back to calculating his homework time, and whether it would be worth skipping lunch or not. He decided against it—Roman probably wouldn’t eat, and Logan usually tried to get extra food for him at lunch, passing it to him during band and hoping Roman could end up trapped long enough to actually absorb some nutrients before purging everything again. It usually didn’t work, but sometimes the director was in a bad mood and he’d make Roman wait. Logan knew manipulating friends was technically wrong, but guilt wasn’t really something he participated in.

The hours went by fairly quickly until lunch; Roman had another Adderall for him and he saved it, swallowing it during third period Calculus when he decided to try and cram his extra credit in between taking lecture notes. Unlike the day before, Roman and Virgil attended lunch rather than smoking in the parking lot. Roman got a salad and a water while Virgil and Logan went for the cheeseburgers that were probably not made from actual meat, but they tasted brown, and they had cheese on them, and that was enough. They sat down at their table—avoided by most of the other students due to Logan’s snippiness. He was halfway through his food when Virgil choked on a bite, “Jesus L! Is that your heartbeat?”

Logan looked down where his heartbeat was causing his shirt to tremble in time, a bit elevated, but not that bad for him. He scowled and moved his drink—a large canned energy drink—in front of him, “What about-what are you doing?!”

Virgil had stood and pressed two fingers to the pulse point on Logan’s neck, “Hold still and be quiet.” He watched his phone timer until it beeped, “Two hundred bpm!”

“No it isn’t,” Roman said, standing up to check.

Logan sat sullenly as they double and then triple-checked their results, “It really is two hundred. Logan that’s too fast!” Virgil said. “When’s the last time you had an Adderall?”

Logan opened his mouth, but he couldn’t remember, so he scoffed, “Stop overreacting. It’s no big deal anyway.”

His throat was dry, and he tried to clear it, taking a slow swallow of his energy drink and waving them off. “Logan maybe you shouldn’t be-“

“Just shut up, Roman!” Logan sniped, then he closed his mouth and pinched his nose shut, trying to force air out of his lungs. After twenty seconds, Logan moved his hand and let out a long, slow breath, smiling, “There, nothing a vagal maneuver can’t fix. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve lost my appetite.”

Logan stood up and—without any warning—fainted.

Logan winced against the bright overhead lights, trying to blink away the blurriness, but he didn’t have his glasses. He could hear voices, distant and muddled. ”…-es, ma’am. His two friends are beside themselves. If it’s going to be a while would you mind if th… alright. Yes ma’am he’s asleep now, but unfortunately I can’t administer anything you haven’t given me here… CBD oil? No Mrs. Berry we don’t… yes ma’am I’ll tell him.”

Logan squeezed his eyes closed as the curtain around his cot rustled and the nurse checked on him. “I know you’re awake, Mr. Berry. Your mother said your friends could come and sit with you until she gets here. The band director already gave them a pass. Feel like visitors?”

Logan nodded, “’s bright.”

“That’s what happens when you do whatever shit you’re doing and then wake up with a hangover in the nurse’s office,” the nurse said. “But, I’ll turn half the lights off. Just try not to get rowdy some of us still have to work.”

Logan sighed, but he did smile a bit when the lights went out, only to jump as Virgil and Roman crowded in beside him, “Fuck, Logan you scared the shit out of me!” Virgil scolded.

“How are you feeling?” Roman asked.

“Mom’s on the way,” he rasped.

“I got it,” Roman said. “I already took it all out of your bag.”

Logan looked to see the nurse, but her desk was empty and she was standing in the hallway. Virgil glanced over, “She didn’t hear y-“

“Give me one,” Logan said.

Virgil shook his head, “Logan no fucking way! You just fainted!”

Logan squeezed his eyes shut, “Please, I’m gonna have to go all week… maybe longer, please! Roman? Please?”

Roman glanced at the nurse, then pulled the curtain, fumbling in his jacket pocket.

“No!” Virgil hissed as Roman pulled out the bottle and offered it to Logan.

“I c-can’t swallow it,” Logan said thickly. “Not whole.”

Roman met Virgil’s eyes and ignored his expression of horrified disappointment. He popped two of the pills into his mouth and chewed it, wincing at the taste—though it was nothing compared to the things that he tasted on any given day. He gathered as much saliva as he could and then bent over Logan, pressing their lips together. Logan wrapped his arms around Roman’s neck to hold him in place, and he licked the Adderall out of Roman’s mouth like a dying man. The kiss was slow at first, mechanical, but it became something else as they stayed close, and soon Virgil was checking the nurse’s whereabouts again as the other two made out, Roman letting out little pleasant moans against Logan’s lips.

Virgil cleared his throat loudly when the nurse returned, and Roman straightened, fixing his shirt. Logan closed his eyes again and waited for the meds to kick in a bit more. “How long til she gets here?”

“Nurse said an hour,” Logan said. “Or that’s what I think she said. Mom’s got clinical trials today so it’s not something she can just leave.”

“They should have sent you to a hospital, not left you here with your dealer,” Virgil growled, glaring daggers at Roman.

Roman sighed as he pocketed the pills, “Look, I’ll keep these in my bag until I get to come see you, ok? Then I’ll leave them behind that loose siding under your window. Just don’t be stupid. Maybe this is a good opportunity to quit.”

Logan wanted to argue, but his lips were still kiss swollen and the taste of Adderall soothed him, so he just nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

“I love you,” Roman said, lifting Logan’s hand to kiss it, then he ducked out.

“He’s just as bad as you are,” Virgil said. “For enabling you like that. I can’t stand it, Logan. I can’t stand what you two do to each other.”

“Are you jealous?” Logan asked; his words were cold, but so was he, and the last thing he needed was a lecture.

Virgil winced, “Fuck this,” he muttered. He turned and pushed the curtain out of the way, leaving the office—and Logan—in buzzing silence.

Logan woke up on Friday, late in the evening. His parents were home, judging from the voices downstairs, and he could remember faded scenes with them over the past two days. He’d missed school, missed band practice, missed the meteor shower and—judging from the raging head and body ache—enough Adderall to start withdrawal. He sighed and slid to the edge of the bed, sneaking over to his window. He’d just reached to open it when something grabbed his ankle in the dark, pulling him. He hit the carpet and was dragged, scrabbling uselessly at the carpet until suddenly he was on his stomach on smooth, cold stone. He squinted in the low light as he stumbled to his feet, until someone—or something—handed him his glasses. He quickly put them on and found himself standing in front of a stranger, “Hello?”

“He was finally awake!”

Virgil and Roman stepped out into the light and Logan took half a step back, “I’ve never hallucinated these two before,” he muttered to himself.

“We aren’t hallucinations, Logan,” Roman said. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up all week.”

“I didn’t really get the chance to tell you about Remus because you fainted at school and… well I took off. But he’s my friend.”

“Our friend,” Roman said. “He’s been keeping us up all night pretty regularly. You should love him.”

“By the way,” Remus said. “Whatever they have you on, those brownies are delicious. I stole five while waiting for you to wake up.”

Virgil rolled his eyes but it was an affectionate gesture, “Glad to see you again, L. I’m… sorry I… whatever, I’m sorry.”

Logan opened his mouth but Virgil stepped forward and hugged him, and as soon as Logan felt him, he knew he wasn’t hallucinating. “Virgil… I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have-“

“Yeah what did you say to him?” Roman asked. “He was mad the whole night!”

“Mind your business,” Logan said when Virgil’s cheeks turned red. “So um… Remus, huh? What is he?”

“No idea,” Virgil said. “A monster from under my bed, but he said he can get us into the amusement park through the staff emergency sleeping quarters.”

“Theoretically,” Roman reminded.

“Close enough!” Remus said, clapping his hands together. “So, Logan, would you like to come on some potentially life threatening rides with us, without any security or safety measures taken?”

Logan smiled when Virgil nudged him, “I guess so, as long as I don’t break my glasses.”

#tentacletober #logan sanders #sympathetic remus sanders #fanfiction #parasomnia #not safe for sanders

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writinginstardust · 5 years

Text

Falling Like Stars | Chapter 1

Pairing: Tyler Jones x reader

Warnings: a bit of bad language

A/N: This is just a little something I my brain came up with when I was trying to fall asleep several months ago. It’s a series of little, mostly in-betweenie bits set during the events of Aurora Rising. It’s not quite long enough to be slow burn but it basically is so get ready for some pining my dudes!

Word Count: 1259

I looked down at my Uniglass again, sure the message would be gone and I'd realise I imagined it. But no, it was still there.

Squad 312, report to Admiral Adams for mission update.

It didn't make sense. My squad had been assigned a nothing mission to a nowhere system, a straightforward if lowly task. What could he possibly need to talk about?

I shrugged and made my way across the station, trying to think of some explanation. Maybe we were getting reassigned to something more important. It wouldn't be that much of a surprise. Even if a few of my squad mates weren't necessarily the best the academy had to offer, the rest of us were top candidates for something more meaningful than a supply run. Well Cat and I certainly were.

The door slid open before I had a chance to knock and Adams gestured to me to take a seat. I was the first to arrive and there was silence as the other legionnaires arrived one by one. Finally the last of us showed up, Kal unsurprisingly, and the Admiral looked up to address us all.

"I expect you're wondering what this is about." We nodded warily. "Rest assured it's nothing to worry about, I just wanted to let you know you'll be having a seventh member joining the squad for this mission." A what?

"Forgive me for asking, but why?" Cat asked from beside me.

"I understand it may seem strange but Battle Leader de Stoy and I have our reasons." That wasn't actually an answer I thought, and knew Cat thought so too.

"Can I ask who it is who'll be joining us?" I tried instead.

"Yes. She's a good friend of yours actually, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)." I froze, just the mention of her name increasing my heart rate. "Unfortunately she won't be back on-station until late tonight so the rest of you will have to meet her tomorrow but I'm sure most of you know who she is already anyway."

I didn't listen to whatever Adams said next, my mind only focusing on one thing. (Y/N)... She was going to be here...was joining my mission...Maker's breath… I hadn't seen her in almost a year now. I wondered how she was after all this time, if she was still the same girl I'd been crushing on since the day we met. I guess I'd find out tomorrow.

"Aurora to Tyler," I snapped my head up at the sound of my sister's voice. "You coming bee-bro?" I frowned in confusion, looking around to find the rest of the squad already halfway down the hallway. Apparently I'd missed Adams' dismissal. I looked between him and Scarlett, both of them sporting knowing smirks that I didn't like one bit.

"Right. Yeah, I'm coming." I stood and left the room, Scarlett beside me. She was still smirking. I knew why. "Shut up."

"Didn't say anything."

"Didn't have to."

"Exactly." I groaned in frustration, my mind too preoccupied to tell my mouth to do much else. "You know, I'm pretty sure she used to like you too."

"Used to?" Why did the past tense have to bother me so much?

"She might still, I haven't seen her in a year so I don't know."

"But you still talk to her." I hated the almost desperate hope that lit my voice.

"So do you."

"Yeah but it's not like she'd tell me."

"And you think she'd tell me? I'm your sister, she'd assumed I'd tell you. ...She wouldn't be wrong." She paused and considered me for a moment. "By the look on your face I'm guessing those feelings haven't faded even a little."

I shook my head, "I don't think so."

"Maybe you should tell her."

"Are you kidding!? No."

"Why not?"

"It's been a year, Scar. I've changed, maybe she has too, maybe I'm just holding onto the idea of something that doesn't exist anymore."

"That's a crap excuse and you know it." I elected not to acknowledge that. "Fine. Don't do anything. I just want you to be happy." She stopped by a door and I was surprised to find we'd already made it to my room. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"See you tomorrow, don't be late."

"Wouldn't dream of it." And with that she left. I stood there for another moment, contemplating what she'd said before turning to head inside and sleep.

It wasn't easy. I was jittery about tomorrow. The mission, seeing (Y/N) again, trying to control the group of discipline cases I'd been stuck with. I just hoped everything would go smoothly.

I didn't feel much better in the morning. I sat at my control panel, my leg bouncing to release some pent up nervous energy, and waited. Normally I'd never show any outward sign of anxiety but knowing that (Y/N) would walk through the door at any moment was putting me on edge.

I'd been like this since I woke up, eating breakfast under the exasperated gaze of Cat and Scarlett and being subjected to concerned looks in the halls. I couldn't help it, (Y/N) had always been able to get under my skin in a way no one else could, even when she wasn't here. It didn't help that she was late.

"Tyler, sit still or I swear-" Cat hissed at me under her breath but cut herself off when the door to the control deck slid open. My world seemed to stop for a moment as she walked in. A year was definitely not enough to get over her.

She was rambling, flustered, slightly out of breath with an embarrassed flush to her cheeks. Beautiful. I wasn't entirely sure what she was saying, an apology for being late if I knew her half as well as I thought. She smiled sheepishly at my squad mates and I swear the whole deck brightened.

It was all the same. The same but different. Almost like a year hadn't passed but not quite. That smile was the same one I saw most nights while I slept. That hand running through her hair was the same nervous tick I'd seen a thousand times before. The way she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet expel some of her nervous energy, exactly the same.

Nothing came out of my mouth. No words to greet her as an old friend or new alpha should. I just sat - stood, when had that happened? - there, staring. Great Maker...she was even cuter than I remembered.

Eventually her eyes met mine and I think I forgot how to breathe. Whatever words she'd been saying died on her lips and she froze. I don't know how long we stayed like that, gazes locked and the world melting away around us, but it was long enough that the others took notice.

Cat cleared her throat, loud enough to startle us both. "Now that we're all here, can we get going? The sooner we get this crap job over with, the better."

"Yeah, of course. Everyone buckle up." They did, (Y/N) moving to strap herself in on one of the couches. Not 10 minutes later we were clear to enter the fold and I looked back at (Y/N) one last time before the colour drained from the world. She smiled at me and I found myself smiling back instinctively. My heart stuttered a bit, chest restricting, palms sweating, as I held her gaze a second longer. I was so fucked.

Tag Lists: (send an ask if you want to be added!)

Everything: @wonderfilledness @writingbychelle @ravenclawreadr

Aurora Cycle: @aurising

#aurora rising #aurora cycle #Tyler Jones #tyler jones imagine #Tyler Jones x reader #Tyler Jones x you #Tyler Jones Fanfic #aurora cycle fanfic #aurora cycle imagine #aurora rising imagine #aurora rising fanfic #reader insert #Fic - Falling Like Stars

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salty-donut-collecter · 5 years

Text

Why Stay?

Act II, Part One

Twenty-Seven {Masterlist} Part Two

Chapter Word Count: 1,652

Trigger Warnings: Anxiety mentioned, yelling, talk about bones breaking, insults

Please tell me if I need to tag anything else :)

*Also, I’m planning on having this story as a slow burn, so please be prepared :)

Prompts: “Do I look like I give a fuck?”, “I don’t know what I’m feeling, but I’m feeling a lot of it.”, and “Not to dictate your life, but drop your shitty friends.”

A/N: It’s been a bit, but I’m glad I have a system for this stuff now! Lmao this story is gonna have you guys dying, but I hope you like it nonetheless.

Happy reading! (Also, feel free to comment your thoughts! I love reading comments :))

Also, if you’d like to be added to the tags list, please let me know! :D

_____________________________________________________

You woke up on Saturday morning, a headache forming as you tried to remember what you’d dreamed.

“Whatever,” you mumbled, getting up and stumbling around in the dark until you got into the dark hallway.

Jesus, what time is it? You wondered, looking around at how dark it was. You looked at your smartwatch (something Katie had left in your room for Christmas), sighing as it read 1:22 am because you knew there was no chance you would be able to go back to sleep now.

Okay… you took a deep breath, I guess today is just going to be a lot longer than planned.

And indeed it would.

Now, you didn’t really think the day was long…. Until Micheal called a “family meeting”, which really just meant y’all had to sit in a room and listen to him before discussing a topic he’d introduced. (The last topic you’d witnessed was furries and kinks because he wanted to see Steven die a little on the inside. (You all know he’s a kinky bastard at heart))

You sighed, wondering how long this one would take because you’d been getting ready to try and sleep again. However, you were intrigued to find he was holding a meeting in one of the kitchen rooms, which was just a room with a huge ass table that could fit the whole family. (So this would be the equivalent to a normal family’s kitchen table.)

You sighed and made your way up there, making sure to be the last person in the room so you could sit next to Micheal, letting Maverick take the right side, while you sat on his left.

“Okay, so I know it hasn’t been that long since Y/n’s been back,” Micheal gave a little eye roll, “Buut, I also don’t care.” he shrugged, holding a hand around his torso in a way you found particularly interesting.

“So, due to my inability to give a shit, and my abundant need to call family meetings, I decided to quell my raging curiosity,” Micheal smirked a little, clearing his throat and demolishing all visible joy as quickly as it came. He then proceeded to open his jacket, extract a familiar folder from under his shirt, and toss it far onto the table, where it flew open and spread its’ contents out for everyone to see.

“So,” Micheal looked at you, his contact lenses red because he was into that, “Care to tell me what this is?”

You had no doubt in your mind that he had already read it, and been furious about it. This told you he already knows everything in that folder by heart, and he was ready to both defend you, and rip the team a new one, which was something you actually found refreshing.

“It’s a file of the information I gathered to quell my own curiosity, actually.” You mused, sitting back and letting your feet sit up on the table. Your chair tipped a bit, but you didn’t mind it much.

Clint was doing the same things, actually. You had a small leaning competition as the conversation continued.

“What were you curious about?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

You smirked, taking a break from you small competition as you sat upright again, “I thought you had powers, actually, and no one gave me the answers I needed to make a proper conclusion.” You shrugged, “So I looked into it myself and got kicked out of the Teen Titans.”

Steve glared at you, “Nobody kicked you out, Y/n. You left because you didn’t want to face the consequences of your actions.”

You chuckled, “Sorry, I didn’t know getting my jaw broken by your shield in a world I made just for you was an invitation to stay and continue to be an Avenger…” You looked up quizzically, “Come to think of it, accusing me of killing people behind your back because I’m an apparent rage monster also didn’t seem like a part of the welcome wagon-- wow, Steve, if you’re so good with etiquette and I’m so bad with it, you should probably teach me-- oh wait, you did, didn’t you? After I’d just gotten here? I’m sorry I failed as a student. It’s just so--”

“Y/n, that’s enough.” Rhodey deadpanned, glaring at you from next to an already peeved Tony. Guess they didn’t get much sleep either. “We’re all happy to have you back, trust me.”

Clint laughed, “Wow, Rhodey, that’s rich!” he sat up, arms softly landing at the table as he looked at the Iron Patriot, “You really wanna go down that route? The whole: yeah, we’re happy to see you again, even though we literally accused you of being a psycho killer last time we talked, but hey! It’s all good now, right? Cause Jesus Christ dude!” Clint laughed, “She literally ran around the fucking w o r l d so she could get a break from our fugly mugs. So I say we give her one. There’s no need to drag this on, Steve. Little girls wouldn’t be leaving Christmas presents in her room if she was a horrible person.” Clint rolled his eyes, already done with the conversation that’d just started.

“Barton, we’re trying to--” Vision started

“Don’t give me that logical bullshit cause that’s not happening right now. You, Vision, can logic your way into and out of this, but them? Yeah, no. They don’t have the goals you do, and it’s fucking time you realize how biased they are.”

“Okay, but my husband was literally the Winter Soldier.” Steve deadpanned.

Clint gave him the weirdest smile, “And he had a type of microsurgery done on him that was very painful and unsafe to get HYDRA out of his head.” his smile dropped, “We fucking been knowing about your husband, Steve. The thing is, no one cares anymore because he took care of that problem as a consenting adult.”

“I don't need a surgery.” You gave the people at the table a weird look, wondering if the kids should’ve been invited to this conversation. You felt a small finger tap your lower shoulder. You flinched, but calmed down when you saw Katie.

She motioned for you to come closer, so you leaned down to her level.

“Can I sit in your lap?” She whispered, lifting her arms up so you could lift her.

You chuckled, “Of course, my smol bean.” you replied, gently grabbing her under her armpits and lifting her into your lap, where you’d crossed your legs so she’d be comfortable. You looked over to see Chloe itching at her arms. She’s getting anxious.

“Okay but guys,” Micheal’s voice somehow transpiring over everyone else’s with great intensity. “You’re failing to answer my question.” He looked down at you, as if knowing something you should know too. (Really you thought of it as only half of “sharing a knowing look”)

You just shake your head, nothing coming to mind for now. He also shook his head, disappointed in you for some reason.

Micheal turned to the rest of the adults, looking peeved as per usual.

“Why. Didn’t. You. Tell. Me?” He asked, changing the question to better their ability to answer.

Everyone was quiet. The less everyone spoke, the more upset you got with their inability to take responsibility for their forgivable mistakes. You understood the fact that it was a hard thing to do sometimes, but this was getting fucking ridiculous.

“Okay, I get that this is hard for you but honestly grow the fuck up.” you snapped, your eyes rolling as you moved Katie over a little bit. It’s not like you needed to be screaming in her ear-- she didn’t do anything wrong and was too cute for that anyway.

“Y/n there’s more to this than--” Stephen started, but the excuses were honestly too annoying to listen to again.

“That I obviously know about cause I’m a stupid teenager.” You angrily sighed, “So I’ve heard. However, I’ll also say that we can’t do shit about the other things at hand if you’ve never bothered to-- I dunno-- talk about them?” You huffed, your knee bouncing as you try to maintain your composure. Katie is looking more anxious by the minute.

“Y/n, will you be okay?” Katie asked.

You gave her a sorrowful look. You were almost mad at Micheal for bringing her and Chloe into this.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay sweet pea,” you assure her, sounding sweeter than honey on top of Turkish delight.

Your gaze returned to the conversation at hand, which had actually gotten really heated within the couple of seconds you’d left for. Okay then.

“I don’t have to explain myself to an overgrown lab rat.” Stephen snapped, pointing at Pietro from his place at the table.

You stood up, Katie in your arms for only a moment before you quickly set her down. “Stephen, we don’t need to turn this into a fight.” You cautioned, your eyes starring the Master of The Mystic Arts with a flash of anger.

“She’s right, Stephen.” Tony was also standing, looking at Strange with quite the opposite look. You hadn’t seen Tony look that concerned for someone in a while.

The air was tense. Having so many emotions in one room was bound to create trouble, but the type of trouble was a mystery to everyone, causing a subtle fear that only stirred the pot more.

“Stephen, what kind of trouble are you talking about?” Steve jumped in, also standing.

You were surprised by his random aid to your side of the argument, but you decided that it was the least of your worries right now. Your hand gently squeezed Katie’s, momentarily reassuring her after hearing her softly whimper.

Stephen glared at Steve, as if wondering if he should answer him honestly, or tell him to shut the fuck up because he’s been nothing but unhelpful this entire time.

Well, you were screwed.

_____

Taglist: @introvertedsin @galacticalstarcat @acidrain707

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finnofamerica · 5 years

Text

Valley Fair - Kevin Gnapoor x Reader ||1||

A/n: I don’t have a summary because I wrote this impulsively after reading all the Kevin G content I could find and watching all the MathLit videos so.........Enjoy

Word Count: 1617

Date: 7.13.2019

|| Masterlist ||

"As you know," Principal Duvall stood on the stage in the auditorium, "every year the school likes to do something nice for the Junior and Senior classes near the end of the school year."

Off to the side, Kevin whooped and hollered, "Love you, Duvall!"

"Thank you, Kevin," Duvall let out a defeated sigh, "This year the overwhelming vote was for Valley Fair amusement park!"

The crowd roared, meanwhile, Duvall tried to calm the masses.

KG: Hope you got a swimsuit that shows off your polynomial curves

Y/n: Step off it, Kevin

KG: Girl you know you love me!

You looked at him from across the room, rolling your eyes as he shot you a wink and settled in for the rest if Duvall's 'come to Jesus' talk.

You weren't a mathlete, but Kevin was your friend - or rather he was your friend, you weren't entirely sure he'd call you one. He had Tyler, Marwan, and Cady too. You only really knew him because he was the reason you didn't fail your math class. Who better to tutor you than one of the smarted boys at North Shore High?

You couldn't have asked for a better tutor, really - especially after he realized that you responded better to music than math. Kevin would rap notes and processes and explanations. He would stay with you after school in the library helping you study for your tests.

You held him in the admiration of an object you desired but couldn't have. It wasn't love. It wasn't a crush, but it was damn near the closest thing to it. Kevin Gnapoor was to you as the sky was to dreamers; ever-present but just out of your reach.

Of course, being the head of the Radio and A/V clubs, you were branded a whole new level of loser by the Plastics. Cady was your lord and savior, taking them down from the inside all while being the nicest person you knew.

It was half a days drive to the amusement park. The school would get a hotel. The next day would be spent at the park. Then a second night in the hotel, and you would be back home by one the day after.

Friday morning you had your go-bag packed with the essentials and some extra clothes just in case.

"Have fun!" Your aunt gave you a thumbs up from the car as she dropped you off.

"Thanks, aunt Jo," you set your bag on the sidewalk, "I love you! See you on Sunday."

"Okay, Sweetie, text me or Ed okay?"

"Yo! Y/l/n!" A voice called.

"I gotta blast, but I will I promise!"

You ran to the group that was waiting for you. It was just a couple of kids from your clubs and, honestly, they were mostly the same people anyway. You knew them and you were kind of friends with them. You weren't that great at socializing with people your own age.

"I can't wait to record a report of this!" Niko beamed. She was the interviewer/reporter for the radio club, reporting to the masses the events of North Shore High.

"Niko, this is supposed to be a fun trip! Enjoy yourself!" You exclaimed.

"Plot twist: reporting is fun for me." She stuck her tongue out at you, making you laugh. It didn't take long for everyone to show up, despite the earliness of the morning. Your crew split up on the bus, leaving you to sit with Niko, which was fine. It's not like you were hoping one of the Power of 3 would sit with you. No, Cady sat with Marwan and Tyler sat with Kevin G himself.

KG: Hope you packed your swimsuit, Norbury says the hotel has a pool.

Y/n: I did, but you won't see me in it.

KG: Can I see you out of it 😉?

Y/n: Kevin!

"Girl you gotta get some shades or something." Niko snorted when she noticed you making a face at Kevin - who only waved his phone because he wanted you to look at it.

"Why?" You slipped your phone back in your pocket.

"Because you got some raging heart eyes for a certain rapping mathlete."

"I don't." You frowned. "Kevin barely even knows me."

"I never said it was Kevin." She smirked.

"It was implied! We all know Tyler and Marwan get their flow from Kevin."

Niko rolled her eyes at you and pulled out her phone to watch movies for the ride.

KG: All right, All right, too far?

Y/n: actually that was usual for you, you're just embarrassing.

KG: did you just call THE Kevin G embarrassing?

Y/n: I did.

KG: Hey

Y/n: What?

KG: I must be a math book.

Y/n: accurate but why?

KG: Bc you solve all my problems.

Y/n: Cheesy. I thought you had better lines than that, KG.

"Who you texting, Kevin?" Tyler leaned over, trying to peak at Kevin's phone.

"Y/n." Kevin shrugged. Tyler hummed.

----

"Hey Marwan, wanna be my buddy?" Tyler asked after Norbury gave her buddy system talk. Marwan just shrugged and nodded.

"Buddies?" You asked Niko.

"Nah, I told Cady I'd be her buddy so Janis could stay with Damien. Roomies tho?"

"Sure, roomies." You deflated. She just gave you a reassuring smile.

"Come on, let's settle into our room then hit the pool."

"Deal."

"Are you sure about this Niko?" You tugged on the sides of your bathing suit, making sure you were covered properly.

"Absolutely, besides you can just put shorts and a shirt on and if you decide to get in the water then bam!" She wiggled her eyebrows at you. You frowned and grabbed your hoodie, slipping it on.

You loved your uncle for giving you some of his huge clothes from before he lost weight. The hoodie went to your knees and it was by far your favorite thing that you owned.

"And the hoodie is back," Niko sighed, "Ready to go?"

"Yup!" You grabbed your book. Niko shook her head with a fond smile.

----

“Girl, you know the point of coming to a pool is to get into the water?" Kevin sat at the end of the deck chair you were curled up on.

"I need to get caught up on my reading." You shrugged. Kevin shook his head.

"Anyway, it seems Tyler and Marwan are ditching me tomorrow and Cady already has a buddy."

"I know, Niko ditched me for her."

"Since we are in a unique position, wanna be my buddy?"

"Is the square root of two a rational number?" You asked like it was obvious.

"Uh..." he hesitated, "no."

"Damn it, I was hoping it was."

"So yes? You'll be my buddy?"

"Yeah, I'll be your buddy," you laughed as he cheered.

"I'm taking you on all the rides!" Kevin exclaimed, beaming from ear to ear.

"Okay, okay," you pushed him away gently, mirth still on your lips, "go away."

"You gonna go in the water?"

"No."

"Then nah, imma stay here boo."

"You're making me regret my choices, KG."

----

"Remember everyone, we meet back at the main entrance at 10 PM. If you're going to be a little late text me or one of the other chaperones." Mr. Flemming went over the rules for the third time. "You must be in groups of at least two and one of you must have a working phone, though I doubt that will be a problem."

"So what's the plan? Rides then water park or?" Kevin asked as you slid into the seat next to him. You had a bag in your lap carrying all you would need for the day.

"No. The water park closes earlier so we should do that first, then rides to dry off." You dug through the bag making sure you had everything.

"Sounds good." He stretched. "You ready?"

“Heck yeah, man, I love amusement parks."

"Think you can ride more rides than the Kevin G?" He popped his collar cockily.

"Yes, actually," you abandoned your hoodie. The bus was already sweltering will all these sweaty teens filling it up.

"I'll make you a deal. If you can ride a ride that I won't go on, then I'll take you to eat wherever you want when we get back to North Shore."

"You are so on."

----

You scrutinized yourself in the mirror of that cold public restroom. You had to admit you did look good in your bathing suit, but you weren't entirely sure you were comfortable in it.

It was now or never, you thought to yourself. You didn't give yourself the chance to chicken out as you stepped out into the heat of the day.

"Damn girl, you've got more curves than a triple integral." Kevin whistled. Of course, he'd be waiting for you.

"You didn't have to wait for me, Kevin. I would've found you." You kept your eyes on the ground. You didn't wanna be a creep and stare at him, as tempting as it was.

"And let everyone else see you first? No way." He walked backward in front of you. "You actually getting in the water today?"

"Yeah, but only because I wanna ride those." You pointed to Breakers Pipeline and Plunge. "I looked them up. Those four are 65-foot free fall body slides. You stand on a platform and it drops out from understand you."

"Oof. I think you like those slides more than me." He pressed his hand over his heart, pretending to be hurt.

"Well-" you grinned.

"Y/n l, don't play with a homeboy's heart like that."

"C'mon." You laughed, leading the way to the water slides.

________________________________________________________________

Tags: OPEN

@carolinesbookworld @anon-pancake @bat-anxnymous @sparkle-heart-side-blog

#kevin gnapoor x reader #kevin g x reader #meangirls x reader #finn writes #full length fic #1617 holy shit that's like davids favorite year

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lifemuchgreener · 6 years

Text

Brothers Trust - Chapter 9

STORY SUMMARY: You enter the Brothers Trust contest on a whim, not expecting to win. But what happens when you do?

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Your plans for the summer change suddenly when you don’t get a good grade in one of your classes and have to retake it as a summer class. Everything is going okay until an exposé is published about your relationship with Tom just days before the premiere of Spider-Man: Far From Home.

WARNINGS: Swearing and ANGST.

WORD COUNT: 1744

AUTHOR’S NOTE: 👀👀👀 also: Y/C/N refers to the name of the college or university you go to for the sake of this story.

Prologue: here

Chapter/Day One: here

Chapter/Day Two: here

Chapter/Day Three: here

Chapter/Day Four: here

Chapter Five: here

Chapter Six: here

Chapter Seven: here

Chapter Eight: here

Your second semester of school flies by even faster than the first semester did. Maintaining a long distance relationship with one of the world’s current most popular actors, keeping up with all of your classes, and finding time for anything else is not an easy feat but you manage. At least you think you do.

“Yes!” your roommate exclaims loudly which startles you from packing up things on your desk. “Grades were just uploaded.”

She’s been refreshing her laptop browser for the last hour and a half, eagerly waiting to see what her final grades are. You’re not too worried so you’ve decided to get some packing done but you figure a five minute break to check your grades won’t hurt.

You open up your laptop, log into your student account, and click the link that will take you to your grades.

“Holy fuck,” you say, staring at the one unimpressive letter in front of your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” your roommate asks.

“I, uh.” You swallow hard, your throat suddenly feeling dry. “I got a D.”

She’s silent for a moment. “Ah, well...at least that’s a passing grade?”

You shake your head. “It’s a class for my major -- it doesn’t count. I don’t get credit. Fuck.”

She instantly tries to do some damage control. “What’s the course number? I’ll see if they’re offering it over the summer.”

You tell her the number and close your eyes as she does a search. This can’t be happening.

“They’re offering it over the summer,” she says. “It’s going to be okay. You can just take it again without disrupting your four-year plan.”

“Summer classes are so expensive. And it costs a lot of money to stay on campus during the summer, too -- I can’t afford that.”

“Move in with Andrew and me,” she says. “We’ve already signed the lease for an apartment nearby. He’s taking a couple of summer classes to get ahead and I’m staying in the area for my internship with the local newspaper. We were going to look for a third person to split the apartment with anyway.”

“Who’s Andrew?”

“That guy that tried to ask you out last semester,” she says. “We, uh, took a class together this semester and we’ve been dating for a few months. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want it to be weird.”

You haven’t really talked to Andrew since that party in November. That’s why you don’t remember his name -- who needs Andrew when your boyfriend is Tom Holland?

“Could I? Is that okay?” you ask.

She smiles at you. “I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t okay.”

So you move from your dorm room into a cute little apartment down the street with your roommate and your roommate’s boyfriend, who just so happens to be the same guy who asked you out on a date during your first semester. The first month together goes smoothly despite this: you enjoy meals together at the tiny kitchen table, you have movie marathons, you binge-watch Netflix.

It’s the end of June when shit hits the fan.

You wake up to the consistent buzzing of your phone which is extremely annoying; it’s a Friday and you’d like to sleep in because your class only meets on Wednesdays and Thursdays.

Normally when you post a selfie or something you’ll wake up with a few hundred notifications -- some of Tom’s fans still like and comment on every new picture you post despite the contest being nearly ten months ago. But you haven’t posted a picture recently which is what confuses you.

You unlock your phone and check Instagram to see what all the fuss is about since that’s where the majority of the notifications are coming from. Tom Holland fan accounts are tagging you in photos, which isn’t anything new, but it’s the actual photos that they’re tagging you in that make your heart skip a beat. They’re photos that nobody would have access to except for you and Tom.

Tom kissing your cheek. You kissing his. Your fingers intertwined. A selfie you took with Tom and Tessa. All photos you had taken together when you visited for New Years and had printed out on special paper in the school library so you could put them on your wall next to your signed picture with him.

Your first thought is that someone hacked into the school’s printing system somehow and released the photos on Tumblr or maybe one of the Reddit threads that has to do with Marvel. But then you notice that all the comments on the pictures are talking about some sort of article. You figure that doing some investigating will be easier to do on a bigger screen so you grab your laptop and do a search in Google for ‘tom holland girlfriend 2019.’

The first result is for some magazine that you have never heard of. The article in particular, titled “Tom Holland Has A Secret Girlfriend...OMG!” was evidently posted three hours ago. You click on the link and immediately begin to read.

Move over Zendaya...Tom Holland’s got a new girl! But is she really that new?

Her name is Y/F/N Y/L/N and she’s a student at Y/C/N. You may recognize her from this picture--

There’s a break in the paragraph to show the picture of you and Tom that Nikki had taken on the day you visited the Far From Home set.

--because she was the winner from a contest put on by an organization created by the Holland family back in the summer of 2018. Holland and Y/L/N started a long distance relationship in the fall and she spent a portion of her winter vacation at his place in London.

There’s another picture. This time it’s you and Tom laying in his bed post-sex. Both of you are topless and while the sheets are covering your chest, it’s pretty obvious that you two had just been at it: your hair is disheveled and your lips are more colored than normal from kissing. Beads of sweat glisten on Tom’s hairline and there’s a lovely flush across his cheeks as he presses a kiss to your bare shoulder.

You’re instantly infuriated. How fucking dare someone post such an intimate picture of you two without your permission? You scroll back up to the top of the page instead of continuing to read and your eyes widen with surprise when you find the byline.

You push yourself off of your bed and throw open the door of your tiny bedroom. Your heart is beating fast as you check the small living room and kitchen. The bathroom door is open and nobody is in the shower. Without a second thought you throw open their bedroom door, not caring what you’ll find on the other side.

But that’s empty too. There’s no sign of her or him.

“Fuck!” you swear loudly, tears starting to spill from your eyes. You fist your hands into your hair and let out an angry scream. “How fucking could she?”

You double over onto the floor like you’ve been punched in the stomach. You’re pretty sure a punch would hurt less than this betrayal of trust from a person you thought was your friend. You continue to cry and scream, pounding your fists against the carpeted floor. You’re grateful that nobody lives below you.

You stop crying when you hear the sound of your phone ringing in your bedroom. You pick yourself up off of the floor and sulk to your room, a whole new wave of tears coming over you when you see that it’s Tom who’s calling.

“I’m so sorry,” you sob into the phone, trying to control your voice the best you can. “Tommy, I’m so sorry.”

“Shh,” he says and even though you feel like the world is falling apart, his voice still manages to comfort you.

“I didn’t know she would,” you take a deep shaky breath. “I don’t know why…”

“That doesn’t matter right now,” he says. “It happened and now we have to do some damage control. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“Well, I’m not okay.”

He sighs. “I mean, like, I wanted to make sure she didn’t have a knife to you or something.”

“She doesn’t. I can’t even find her. She’s not in the apartment.”

“You need to get out of there,” he advises. “I don’t want there to be a confrontation between you two. Go to a coffee shop or a park or something. Just get out of the apartment before she gets back.”

You put Tom on speakerphone as you get ready to leave.

“How do we do damage control?” you ask.

“I’ll take care of it,” he says. “I’m going to talk to everyone I know and see what they think I should do because babe, I know it might sound like I know what I’m doing, but I totally don’t. I’ve never had to deal with anything like this before and I want to get advice on what to do.”

“So what do I do?”

“I need you to wait,” he says. “Don’t reply to anything yet. I’ll text you as soon as I figure out what to do.”

“Fuck, Tom, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault so stop apologizing. Lay low for a little bit. I’ll send you a message as soon as I come up with a plan.”

“Okay,” you say. “I can do that.”

“Good.” You can hear him smile through the phone despite the stressful situation. “I’ll talk to you later.”

You hang up the phone and dry your eyes off with the sleeves on your shirt. You grab your phone charger, apartment keys, and bag before heading out the door. Your feet lead you to a little coffee place not too far away and you sit at a table in the back, attempting to distract yourself with games on your phone as you impatiently wait for Tom’s message.

What do you think about joining me for the movie premiere on Monday?

Your fingers dance across your phone screen as you write back your reply of: That’s the plan you’ve come up with?

Will you or won’t you? Harrison’s already arranged for an Uber to pick you up and drive you to the airport and if we don’t cancel it within the next minute they’ll still charge him.

Yes, you type back. Yes. I’ll go with you.

Good. See you tonight, love.

Taglist: @deadlyaffairs, @strrwberries, @le-papillon-chatoyant, @smexylemony, @carolborges890, @ineedsomemoremetime, @loxbbg, @mac-demarco1, @howdycharlie, @rebekahs-worlds-blog, @parkersvinyl, @ballerinaphan, @lovesdeath, @tom-hollands-eyelash, @supercool-holland, @tomspideyweb, @literallygooutofmyfreakingmind, @corteousdolan, @iwillalwaysbevictorious, @simplechicwithacrazedheart, @allofthebitters, @julliene0806, @kittyisabel, @aliceinwhateverland, @tomshollanddarling, @emmyfignewton, @hollandfangirl, @tommyswolves, @saintlystark, @imthwipped, and @kristyesteven

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland fanfiction #marvel smut #marvel x reader

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i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend · 6 years

Text

Sexiled (Part 1/23) ~ Steve Rogers x Reader College!AU

A/N: Hello lovelies! So this is the story I was going to post last night, but then life got in the way. So you get a Monday post! Yay! lol. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Nat sexiles you the night before an exam so you decide to crash on your common room couch. Too bad there’s already someone there.

Characters/pairings: Steve Rogers, eventual Steve x reader, Nat and Bucky mentioned

Rating: T

Warnings: Language (that’s it)

Word count: 1532

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

(8:53 PM) Natasha: Do you mind staying out of the room tonight?

(9:25 PM) Natasha: I’m guessing since you didn’t answer you’re cool with it. Thanks! Love you!

You groaned as you stepped off the elevator. It was almost 3 AM and you had an exam in the morning. And because of said exam you had turned your phone off to study nine hours ago, apparently missing some very important news.

“At least the common room has a comfy couch,” you muttered as you trudged down the hall.

You were mentally calculating how much sleep was necessary for you to be awake for your exam when you turned the corner and found the couch you’d been planning on crashing on occupied.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Apparently you were louder than you intended because the guy jolted awake and started looking around for his books.

“Crap, I’m going to be late for my exam.”

“Easy there. It’s only 3 AM, and I don’t know of any classes here that start before 8,” You joked and he leaned back against the couch.

You couldn’t help but admire his physique as his chest heaved, and your cheeks burned when he caught you staring at him.

“Do I know you?” He squinted like he was trying to place you.

“I don’t think so.”

You would remember meeting someone so attractive.

“Well, in that case. Hi. I’m Steve.”

“Y/n.” You waved one hand somewhat awkwardly as you dumped your backpack on the table and moved to the sink to fill your water bottle. “So, Steve, I’m like sixty-two percent confident you don’t live on this floor. So why are you asleep in my common room?”

“How are you only sixty percent sure I don’t live here?” he asked somewhat incredulously.

“Sixty-two percent,” you corrected.

“I was studying for an exam with a friend and he decided to call it quits about,” he glanced at his watch, “An hour ago and I thought I’d take a twenty minute power nap before cranking out a few more hours of studying.” He grinned as he ran a hand through his messy blond hair. “So what’s your excuse?”

“Exam in the morning. Just got back from the library to find I’ve been sexiled. So I was planning on crashing on the couch.”

You sat cross-legged in one of the arm chairs and redid your messy bun before pulling your binder out of your backpack

“Well I apologize for taking your bed.”

“It’s okay,” you shrugged. “I should keep cramming anyways.”

“What are you studying for?” He asked as he looked around for his notebook.

“Chem 101,” You groaned.

“Wait, really? Me too. Are you in Erskine’s 8AM?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Wait that’s why I recognize you. You sit front right and answer all the hard questions.”

“Not really,” you mumbled, suddenly feeling self-conscious. You’d been labelled “teacher’s pet” practically your whole life and it wasn’t a nickname you were eager to bring with you into college.

“I didn’t mean it as a bad thing,” he smiled apologetically. “I wish I followed along that well. I feel like I’m always five steps behind.”

You weren’t sure what to say. You wanted to be encouraging but you also knew this was a weed out course.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. But if you’re going to keep cramming, we could study together.”

“That’s be great.”

“Awesome. Okay. Let’s get started.”

You hopped up and closed the doors to the common room so you wouldn’t bother anyone and then pulled out the rest of your notes.

“Umm. Wow.”

You glanced up and he was staring at the rainbow papers in your hand.

“Colors help me study,” you told him sheepishly.

“Do you do that during class?”

“Oh God no. This is what I spent eight hours on in the library tonight.”

The look of shock faded and he nodded.

“That makes a lot more sense.”

“So umm, where do you want to start?” You asked nervously.

“Let’s do the most recent section on bonding?” He suggested, flipping through his own notebook.

“Sure. Sounds good.”

The two of you studied surprisingly well together and by 6AM when your first alarm went off you were both feeling fairly confident.

“I think that’s about all my brain can take,” he groaned slightly as he stretched and you couldn’t help but notice the strip of skin that was exposed as his t-shirt rose up. “I think I’m going to go take a shower and try to wake up.”

“Probably a good idea. I’m probably going to fall asleep during the exam,” you half-laughed as you stretched your neck. “Maybe I should skip the nap and go try to track down some coffee and start the caffeinating now.”

“No way, you need sleep for sure.”

“I’m kind of afraid I’m going to sleep through my exam. Besides, I don’t think I’m going to get much sleep out here.”

As if to prove your point three different people exited their rooms to shower in the next few seconds. Steve frowned slightly before looking at you with a slightly bashful expression.

“Well, since I’m gonna shower. You could come nap in my bed. And then I can make sure you’re up for the exam.”

“I couldn’t possibly. I mean, what about your roommate?”

“He had PT this morning at 6.”

You couldn’t believe you were actually considering this. But you were exhausted and it would mean you didn’t have to worry about waking up for the exam.

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. If you’d rather I can just come back up here and wake you.”

A few more people started traipsing into the common room, and you knew you’d never get any sleep.

“Actually, I think I will take you up on that offer. Thank you.”

He smiled and grabbed your backpack.

“It’s the least I can do. I did steal your couch after all,” he grinned.

It turned out he lived two floors below you. The room was neater than you’d anticipated. Both lofted beds were made and the desks held stacks of papers and books.

“Make yourself comfortable.” He gestured to the bed on the right side of the room before turning to his drawers to gather clothes for the day. “What’s wrong?” he asked when he noticed you hadn’t moved.

“Uhhm…” You eyed the gap between the floor and the bed warily. He’d removed the ladder that typically went with lofts, clearly not needing it.

“Oh, right,” he laughed to himself putting two and two together. “I usually use the desk to get up there.”

“Okay, if you don’t me using it then I’m good.”

You kicked your shoes off next to his desk and sat on it before swinging your legs up and spinning so you could stand. You wobbled slightly and Steve reflexively extended his hands towards you. From the desk, you were able to swing your leg up and haul yourself into the bed.

Steve tugged the blanket from the end of his bed over you.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, the softness of the bed already lulling you to sleep.

“Sleep tight, y/n.”

You groaned as you were shaken awake.

“Go away, Nat. My alarm isn’t even ringing,” you mumbled burrowing further under the covers.

However your eyes snapped open when you heard the throaty chuckle that most definitely did not belong to your roommate. You bolted upright, looking around to orient yourself. The piercing blue eyes you came face to face with didn’t exactly help your focus; you were hyper aware of his warm hand on your shoulder.

“Hi,” you squeaked out.

“Good morning,” he grinned. “How do you take your coffee?”

“On exam days… black.”

He hopped off the desk and set a mug under the Keurig, as you tried to wake yourself up.

“You know those are illegal,” you teased.

“Trust me. I’m providing a public service. Under-caffeinated Bucky Barnes is not good for anyone.”

“Don’t worry. My lips are sealed.”

He handed you the cup before hoisting himself onto the bed next to you.

Inhaling deeply, you let out a content sigh. “Cute boy bringing me coffee. You know, this is not such a bad way to wake up.”

“Happy to be of service.”

You grimaced. “I said that out loud didn’t I?”

He nodded, smirking.

“I’m just going to drink my coffee. Under-caffeinated y/n y/l/n isn’t good for anyone.”

“I don’t know about that,” he teased. “She seems pretty nice to me.”

Rolling your eyes, you nudged his shoulder.

Once the caffeine was coursing through your system, the realization that you had an exam hit.

“Okay. Right. Exam. Let’s do this.”

Steve took the empty mug from you before helping you down from the bed.

“Well I should go change, assuming my roommate isn’t having round 2. Thanks for the coffee and for letting me crash in your bed.”

“Anytime.”

You arched an eyebrow and he blushed.

“I just meant it was my pleasure. I mean… I…”

“You’re gonna hurt yourself. Seriously thank you. I’ll see you at the exam.”

“See ya.”

You felt him watching you as you walked to the elevator and you bit your lip to keep from giggling.

A/N: So full disclaimer I do not recommend that you sleep i random strangers beds. lol. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this! I had a lot of fun writing it. Stay tuned for more fluffy goodness.

Tag lists are Open!

Steve/Chris Tag List @isaxhorror @peachykeen3502 @patzammit

Marvel Tag List @hdthdthdt @sophiatomlinson23 @misty-panther @supermusicallee @scarlettsoldier

Permanent Tag List @iamwarrenspeace @jayzayy @bexboo616 @neoqueen306 @santheweird @rowenaravencalw @buckitybarnes @prxttybirdz @sergeantjbuckybarnes @samwinchxtr @broitsmydick @ailynalonso15 @nyxveracity @queenoftrash97 @walkingtravesty97 @lamia-maizat @memyselfandmaddox @lowkeybuckyb

#Steve Rogers #steve x reader #College!Au

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whichstiel · 6 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural) Additional Tags: Spn 14x01, supernatural episode coda, episode coda, Episode: s14e01 Stranger in a Strange Land, musings on hope and humanity, demon dean flashback Series: Part 1 of Season 14 Codas Summary:

An episode coda for season 14, episode 1.

Dean and Castiel reflect on hope and humanity in the shadow of Michael’s possession.

(Also included in its entirety below because it’s pretty short. But please tell me what you think on AO3 or Tumblr! Comments are always appreciated.)

They were whispering about him at the other end of the bar. Dean sipped his whiskey, savoring the burn against his tongue, and eavesdropped over the hum of twanging guitar playing on the bar’s speakers.

“How long do we have to stick around this dump of a town? I haven't killed anything in at least a week.”

The second demon’s voice was lower, as though she was afraid of being overheard. “Until Crowley says it’s time to move on.”

Dean rolled his eyes. Brent and Laura. They had been flexing their muscles all over town, painting a big target on the motley King’s court staying at the motel attached to the bar. Crowley really ought to do something about them. Kill ‘em, or send them away.

Brent snorted. ��You mean, until Winchester says it’s time to move on. I’ll admit, I was on board with the whole Hell’s Knight thing when I thought we’d be rampaging the fucking countryside with, you know biblical flaming fucking swords. But so far we’ve just watched him and Crowley make…make fucking cow eyes at each other.”

Laura grumbled a disgusted reply.

“Did you know,” Brent lowered his voice and glanced around the bar. Dean prevented himself from reacting, staring at his whiskey glass like it was the only object that mattered in the world. “They set up another date? A date.” He spat out the word like it was a curse.

“No,” Laura sounded scandalized. “That’s so…so…civilized. I can’t believe we’re sticking around town so Winchester can have a…a fivesome.” She called across the room to the bartender for another drink and after she took a long swallow of beer she said, “Knight of Hell, my ass.”

“Fucking weak.”

Dean took another sip of whiskey. He let the glass linger on his lips, enjoying the fire against his skin. Dean heard a lot of imprecations against his character lately. That was a consequence of falling in with demons. If he acted against every insult he'd have perpetually bloody knuckles and a whole hell of a lot less fun.

The truth was, they weren’t sticking around for the triplets, though they were very fun. Instead, he and Crowley were sticking around because the bar’s nice. It had a good sound system and decent booze, and there was plenty of tail to chase in this transitory place. Crowley had suggested moving on, but Dean had stopped him. “When was the last time you ever had a chance to relax, man?” And Crowley had taken one good look at him and backed right down. That’s true. Never. Might as well.

It was a good situation, and Dean didn’t intend to screw it up any more than he had to. He’d just sit quietly, finish his drink, and maybe bamboozle the bachelorette party camped out in the corner out of some hard earned money. Or sleep with the bride-to-be. The night was young.

But of course that wasn’t the end of it. Of course there was more.

An elbow bumped into Dean a little while later, deliberate and sharp against his back. “Oops,” Brent said at his ear. “Sorry. ”

Dean turned in his seat slowly and let his gaze flick along Brent fleetingly, like he was a fly. He turned away again, only Brent cleared his throat and said, “How does it feel?”

Dean swiveled to Brent and raised his brows consideringly. “Excuse me?”

“How does it feel,” Brent said with a sneer, “to suck so miserably at being a demon? I swear to god, you’re the most white bread demon I ever—”

Dean smiled lazily and grabbed the demon’s arm. His fingers cut into Brent hard enough to elicit a wince and Dean’s smile grew into a grin. “You got a problem with me, Brent?” Fear flicked across Brent’s expression, but it quickly turned into disgust. Dean let him pluck his fingers from his arm and drop his hand away. “You’re drunk. Which is a real fucking accomplishment for a demon, so kudos to you.” Dean lifted his glass in a mock salute.

“Yeah? Well you’re a shitty demon. Shitty and boring and…” A knowing expression crossed his face. “Bet it was all the angel dick you were getting.” He thrust his hips once and hissed, “Oh yeah, that sweet fire of the lord! Diluting everything that should make you great. Making you a waste of…of everyone’s time. You’re not a real demon.”

The Mark hissed against Dean’s forearm. It bubbled like liquor in his blood and he found himself baring his teeth. He let go of his glass. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he warned.

Brent snorted. “Please, everyone knows. Crowley’s talked about it. Hell, everybody talks about it. I don’t know why we bother when it’s obvious you’ve been compro— urk”

A moment later, Dean pulled the knife out of the demon’s ribs, winking as the blade scraped against bone. He swiped Brent’s blood casually against his a paper bar napkin and tucked it back in the sheath hidden in his pocket. “Talk about Cas again,” he said pleasantly, balling up the bloodied paper and dropping it next to his glass on the bar top, “and I’ll turn you inside out.”

He fucking had limits, after all.

The thing about Michael, Dean learned quickly, was that he was not a people person. Er…angel. And Dean didn’t mean that the archangel was unfriendly, although he was without a doubt a complete dick. No, it was that Michael simply didn’t…get people. He didn’t understand their motivations, or their complexities. He would ask Dean, early on, about the proper things to say to a human to sway them to his side. Like there was a manual every human was born with, and he need only ask for a copy. He’d asked about the angel Anael as though he and Dean were two colleagues, still working side by side. He’d asked before he’d tortured. Before he’d taken.

He’d asked because Michael truly was baffled. That fundamental lack of understanding would be how they would win, Dean often thought. He stewed over the problem in the prison Michael had built for him in his own mind.

“You think in black and white,” he muttered as he leaned over the lock in his hands. By concentrating very hard, he was able to manifest a version of the lock Michael placed over his latest trap for Dean. With a physical representation in hand, it felt easier now to pick at it and worry at it like a mouse nibbling away at a wall.

Michael had ranted to him early on about “fallen things,” which Dean had come to realize encompassed all of creation - humans, demons, surviving angels - you name it. For Michael, there was a high state and a low state, and nothing in between. “You don’t understand want or need or…or love. Just words.” He pushed the pin in and heard a click. “Just weapons.”

Encouraged, he kept on with it. “We have dreams. Desires. Hopes. We care about each other. We want fucking peace, you asshole.” Another tumbler clicked and Dean smiled. “And I’m not gonna let you ruin that.”

He’d thought for a while that Michael would try to batter down the walls of Heaven and take dominion of the place. The archangel enjoyed worship, thrived on it even. Michael had been bitterly disappointed by the impressions of angels in Dean’s mind, however. He’d been even more disappointed by his meeting with Anael, the supposed rebel fighting against Heaven.

If there was any rebel against Heaven slumming it on Earth, it was Cas, though. But Dean kept Castiel wrapped up firmly in his mind. Ever since Michael had taken over, pushed Dean down, Dean had dragged as much as he could from his memories of his loved ones down with him and pushed it into the dark corners of his mind.

Dean chewed on his lip as he worked at the lock. There were a lot of dark corners in his mind. Corners filled with pain that kept Michael at bay, as effective as insect repellant. It was almost laughably easy to bury his heart away from Michael.

Dean remembered the last time he saw Cas, after Michael had entered his body. He’d been filled with power, with fire so heady it had taken all of his control to hold fast to the reigns and not slip away like a paper boat in a flood.

Castiel had stared at him, jaw clenched, and anguish painted across the lines of his face. Dean had noticed that first and then he’d seen him through Michael’s eyes. Power streamed off of Castiel like holy fire, constant and blue-hot. His wings hung from his shoulders in tattered pieces, mere fragments of what they once were before Metatron’s spell shredded them.

Dean had never seen any sight more beautiful. Castiel - glowing with his own glory. Castiel - broken once, twice, over and over again. Broken, but never giving up. Never. And he still looked at Dean like he believed in him.

Dean remembered how he had failed in Hell, so many years ago. How he’d cracked under torture, given up. Castiel had saved him then and the memory of him would save him now.

He would push back against the walls, the locks, the pain that burned him with every second of contact with Michael’s grace. Dean worked at the lock.

He vowed to fight, because he couldn’t stand the idea of backing down again. Of giving up. And most of all, he couldn’t stand the thought of letting Castiel down. Again.

The thing was, he felt like Cas was with him. Not just the memory of him, but him. There, and steady beside him. Inside him. Dean shook his head. It didn’t make sense, but he was tired of trying to sort things into real and fake in his mind, of all places. He wrapped himself around Cas, or Cas wrapped himself around Dean.

The lock clicked open and Dean gathered himself, pulled his heart around him like armor. He picked up the lock and watched it grow long and sharp in his hand. “Heeeeeere’s Johnny,” Dean shouted and felt Michael flinch like a tiger in the wild at the call of something wilder.

Leaping from his cell, Dean began to slice.

Castiel cleaned the blood from his face grimly with a sandpaper textured washrag. He wished somebody had told him just how rough he looked before he’d gone to speak to Jack. Telling Jack he would be okay without his grace to back him up would have been a shade better delivered if Castiel hadn’t looked like he’d just received the beating of a lifetime.

He sighed and scrubbed the blood from his skin, rinsing the rag under running water and watching the red blood swirl in the basin, then down the drain.

Even as a human, he’d never felt more mortal. He supposed that happened to everyone. The more people you cared about, the more you realized how tenuous everyone’s hold on life and happiness was. It was hard to keep up, some days, without feeling hopelessness crystalizing into something sharp and impenetrable.

The cut in his lip was beginning to heal, but Castiel still hissed involuntarily as he scrubbed at it. It stung.

The cut stung and Castiel was…he was…

Castiel pressed his hands to the sides of the sink and leaned against it for a moment. The porcelain was very cold. He watched the bloody water droplets run towards the drain. He stood there for a breath. Two. Three. Then he lifted his head again, resolutely.

Dean was out there.

Castiel finished washing his face. He wet one hand and combed it through his hair, pushing out the blood and laying it flat again. Dean was out there, burning within Michael. He would feel it if Dean were gone, wouldn’t he?

He would.

In his millennia of life, Castiel had watched many things die, and many more things cease to be entirely. He should be inured to it. But he wasn’t. And he wouldn’t let himself become that way. He’d keep the faith that Dean survived, that he cared to survive.

Castiel finished brushing his hand through his hair and let his grace shudder through his shattered wings, flicking the last of the fight’s grime from him. He was a fallen thing, more human than angel these days. But maybe that was a good thing. Maybe, that human side of him helped him to believe, when everything seemed stacked against him.

He was fallen, but he was not low.

In the end, Castiel believed Dean would be saved.

And so, he thought, flicking off the light in his room and heading back towards the library, he will.

#spn 14x01 #episode coda #stranger in a strange land #destiel #deancas #supernatural episode coda #supernatural season 14

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