#of course it was nothing but the fact that i was spooked is just disturbing and stupid
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There was exactly one place in all of Piltover, where Jinx actually kept her explosive nature to a bare minimum, and that was the menagerie. The Loose Canon would sneak into the place and watch the animals, while "Bernie" had enough tact to keep visitors away from her.
The zoo keeper wasn't actually called Bernie, but Jinx honestly couldn't be bothered to figure out his real name. What Bernie had gotten, was the fact that he shouldn't annoy Jinx or else she would retaliate by making his job extra hard, which usually either meant spray painting the animals or worse, letting them out of their cages. Though, Jinx had to admit: Riding a rhinoceros through Piltover and causing property damage had been rather funny.
Right now though, the cobalt blue-haired girl was sitting before the thick panzer glass, which kept the leopard seal in their containment. It was built in a way that allowed you to see them dive underwater, and Jinx's purple eyes had been hyperfixating upon the lean, strong, dotted bodies for the past half hour or so. Her head would tilt this way and that way, following the path they dove around in their tank.
"You're pretty", Jinx whispered under her breath, "Very pretty."
There was an uncomfortable ache in her chest. That part of the menagerie always reminded her of Silco's cultivair. It had been designed so that you could see the underwater world of the Pilt and watch the huge sharks pass by. He would have loved those leopard seals. Jinx was sure of it.
A sudden movement at the entrance of the fake cave caught Jinx's attention and her smile vanished. She had told Bernie that she didn't want any visitors! What had this idiot done? Called the Enforcers on her? Jinx stoutly refused to call them Wardens. It was the exact same thing, just a different coat of paint. Well, whoever was in that entrance would regret disturbing her peace.
A hand went for the pistol by her thigh and the Loose Canon turned around. However, she didn't draw Zapper just yet. First, she wanted to see who had disturbed her animal watching. Upon recognising the woman in her purple outfit and with that stupid top hat, barely masking black hair, Jinx scowled. Her hand pulled out Zapper and she unhooked his safety. However, she still didn't aim just yet. Instead, Jinx merely growled:
"Oh, great. Fun's over!"
To say that Caitlyn was annoyed was probably the understatement of the century, the one time in months that she took a day off and visit the zoo, and of course, the words of a very afraid zookeeper to try and keep her away only served to try and find out what the hell was spooking him this badly.
Caitlyn might not have been the Sheriff any longer, but she's never going to simply walk away from people in need. She'll just make an effort to actually use other methods rather than intimidation and violence to try and stop people. Perhaps she could simply talk to whoever this was.
The tinge of blue hair and purple eyes staring back at her made it clear that most likely that wasn't going to be the case.
"I should have known" She sighs and shakes her head gently. Jinx. Always Jinx. Always forever Jinx, all the time. Her hands move to her sniper and...she hesitates for a moment. Talking. At the very least she should try. And if Jinx is going to kill her, it will be in a much more elaborate way than this.
So, she puts down her sniper, leaving it leaning against the entrance of the tunnel, and walks up to Jinx. What is there to say? What combination of words that can hide the vitrol and hatred or sadness and pity she has for the girl? The seconds of staring down at her feel eternal, and with nothing to say, Caitlyn simply turns to the leopard seal who has just dived underground.
"...Majestic things...are they not?"
#ic#long post#hello!#I usually do shorter stuff#but I was very impressed by this ask#so at the very least#I wanted this to match it#cause I liked it
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Healing The Blooming Crocus 🌱 chap 12
Under the surface
Chestnut eyes stared at the opening at the top of the goahti’s ceiling, not actually watching the starry sky.
Honeymaren sighed. She had tried and tried, but it was impossible for her to find sleep. If Elsa wasn’t exhausted and deep into slumber next to her, she would have sensed it, and asked her what was wrong, and helped her. But of course, the Northuldra cared about her lover’s health and didn’t want to wake her to talk about it. Also, her concern for Elsa was the reason for her insomnia, so it would make it a vicious circle.
She dropped her hand on her forehead with a muffled groan. She needed fresh air.
As discreetly as she could, she lifted the pelts and stepped out of the bed. She was halfway to the door when the covers ruffled.
“Where are you going?” Asked Elsa’s voice in the shadows.
Her voice was tired, and she sounded like she was about to fall back to sleep right then, yet she had picked up the very small noise Honeymaren made. The brunette internally smiled at her acute care.
“I’m going to fill the water jug. I’m thirsty and there’s no more.”
“Okay.” Mumbled Elsa.
Indeed, she then fell right back to sleep.
Honeymaren grabbed the - in fact - half-full jug and carefully opened and closed the door.
Walking to the river to maintain her lie just in case someone would ask, she groaned as thoughts kept turning in her mind.
She passed some water on her face, then felt that someone was staring at her, and jolted her head to her right. It was in fact the Northuldra woman who was in charge of surveillance for this part of the night. It wasn’t a precaution only taken due to Elsa’s state; it was a habit for the tribe to always be careful. A curious bear cub roaming through the camp followed by its scolding mother always was a possibility.
“Are you okay?” Asked the Northuldra, leaning against a tree.
“Sorry, I didn’t want to disturb your shift.”
“You didn’t disturb anything.” Assured the woman, who came to sit next to her. “Except maybe your sleep schedule.”
They chuckled in the moonlight.
“How are you feeling?” Asked the woman after a moment of silence.
“Good. She’s getting better every day. She can move around now, and she uses her muscles more often. She can grab things…”
Honeymaren’s voice vanished as she stopped, detaching her eyes from the stream to look at her. “You didn’t say Elsa, right?” She sighed.
“I didn’t, indeed. I asked about you.” Smiled the Northuldra.
The brunette let out a groan, and slumped her shoulders. They had a nervous chuckle.
“Sorry.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for. It’s a beautiful proof that you care about her first and foremost.”
Honeymaren smiled.
“And…” Continued the woman. “In addition to how cute it is as a couple, it also shows how dedicated you are in your protection of the Fifth Spirit.”
The brunette blushed slightly. It was true, and her tribe always admired and respected people who got the favors of the Spirits and returned their care. Fidgeting to hide her reaction to the compliment, Honeymaren passed her hand on the water.
Suddenly, a pair of glowing blue eyes appeared at the surface, quite spooking them in the dark of the night.
They got startled as Nokk popped his head out of water, but then smiled at his presence and bowed. They however remained seated next to him; they were used to cohabiting.
“You heard everything, didn’t you?” Asked the Northuldra woman.
The Water Spirit had an affirmative move of the head.
Honeymaren winced. “Don’t tell Elsa about any of this, okay?”
She then realized that for a moment, she forgot that the magical bond didn’t exist for her lover anymore. She instantly felt sad, her heart sinking in her chest. Nokk seemed to feel her emotion, because he nudged his head forward and made the tears that started to fall on her face disappear in the air.
[Read more on FF] [Read more on AO3]
#if i were cruel i would leave y'all on a hiatus after such a chapter end#but i'm not and will post it same time next week#what do you mean i'm cruel anyway with all the angst?#woops#enjoy the fluff as well#the plot THICKENNNNS#frozen#frozen 2#post frozen 2#frozen fanfics#disney fanfictions#wdas#writing
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summary: gojo’s tired of you resisting him
warnings: home invasion, noncon, degradation, fem!reader
a/n: this was supposed to be a crumb for @mahitopegger i have no idea wtf happened. i didn’t edit this || reposted from sideblog (now deactivated) on 4/17/2021.
It was only after the soft click of your door, and the eerie silence thereafter that seemed to threaten to close you in, that you realized that something wasn’t quite right. Your eyes darted left, then right, and you kicked off your shoes slower than usual, setting them semi-haphazardly to the side of your entryway.
Even if you weren’t paranoid, you were still the type of person to double check, sometimes triple-check your locks on occasion before you left your home, and you did remember your key turning the right way just seconds ago.
Maybe you were overreacting - after all you lived in a relatively safe area, alone save for your cat with a propensity to mewl for food at all hours of the day. Ah, that was possibly the issue, the fact that your little furry friend hadn’t made his presence immediately. But he knew how to be quiet sometimes, and was fond of an early afternoon nap.
The sound of your keys clattering on your coffee table now seemed unceremoniously loud, like you were disturbing a religious service. In your own house.
Your heart started to race for just a moment, and you turned around quickly.
Nothing. No person, no ghost, no cat. Just you, a sudden sense of unease, and your rapidly beating heart.
Why were you so anxious?
You couldn’t recall the last time you’d felt so unsettled for the moments in which you paced down your hallway, ears tuned to the soft footfalls of your presumably sleeping companion. You would have whispered its name but you didn’t want to wake up the needy little bastard unnecessarily.
It was only three paces in that you stilled suddenly, and the memory of the last time you’d felt this way suddenly struck vividly in your mind.
Clear blue eyes, bordered by long, pale white eyelashes. A smile, once easy and bright, with corners turned up far too high into malice.
You froze.
Was it him? Was Gojo in your house? He wouldn’t... would he?
Your last encounter had been... suboptimal, to say the least. You’d all but told him to get lost, that you weren’t and would never be interested, not after knowing who he was, what he was.
You needed a quiet, calm existence. Your imprint on the world would be measured. You had to stay away from bad omens like his.
But his reaction had been unnatural. He hadn’t given you a real response, just a smile, and you had felt just as unnerved then as you did now before you parted.
You were clearly still spooked.
But these nerves were just vestiges of your anxiety. Gojo knew how to take no for an answer. Of course he did.
He didn’t - you opened your bedroom to find the young sorcerer waiting for you, your cat comfortable in his arms.
“Ah! You’re back~”
Gojo didn’t move; rather, he continued to sit in his relaxed position, legs outstretched onto the bed, palm stroking softly at the soft orange fur. The soft purr of the docile animal filled the air with sharp contrast to your wordless mouth, opening and closing once in shock, and the frenzied beat of your heart.
He smiled before his eyes did, and shifted on top of your covers, getting to his feet. Dressed casually in a white t-shirt and a loose pair of sweatpants, as though he’d been lounging around your house the entire day... as though he lived here.
“W-what are you doing here?” You choked out.
His eyebrows furrowed, and his hold on the little creature relaxed, who remained for just a moment, mewing once before jumping off his lap, brushing by your legs that felt as though they would start shaking any moment, and then promptly sauntered out of the room.
“You didn’t tell me you had a cat,” Satoru remarked, now sitting with legs criss-crossed on the bed, hair mussed and relaxed, and with affect as bright as a child on his first sleepover. He patted the space on the bed next to him, beckoning you to come sit. “Did you have a good day?”
“Gojo, please get out of my house.”
His expression darkened for just a moment before it returned to its natural cheeriness. He patted the space next to him again.
“You must be tired. I can make you something. Tea?”
Your feet were glued to the ground, neither advancing nor retreating.
“P-please leave,” you repeated, more wary this time. Your hands were starting to shake and you watched his eyes flicker to them, then back to your eyes.
“Why would I do that?” He said, tilting his head ever so slightly.
His eyes bore into yours and you felt your stomach turn.
“Don’t you like my attention?”
“Satoru, please,” you continued, your lower lip wobbling inadvertently. “Please, just leave... I won’t tell anyone you came here, just... I can’t return whatever feelings you have, so just go.”
Your fists clenched and unclenched, but you still were so tense, planted onto the floor as though you were a sharp dagger thrust into vulnerable flesh. Why weren’t your feet moving? You should be running. Running as far as you can from this man who could just as easily become a monster if he so pleased.
As though he knew you’d already become powerless - not that it made a difference, the power differential was already so vast - he rose, walking towards you in an open, unguarded stance. He wasn’t afraid of you in the least. The very thought made your blood boil.
Once he stood before you, towering over your shorter, smaller frame, his lips pursed.
“Stop shaking.”
It was a command, given in an annoyed but direct fashion.
You don’t know why you eked out, powerlessly, “I can’t.”
“You weren’t this afraid when you were telling me to fuck off a couple days ago,” he noted. His hand rose to grip your chin, tilting your face to him. You don’t know when you’d started crying, but tears were now streaming down your face, warm and wetting his fingers.
“You’re crying? Where’s the sass you had then?”
“Please...”
Against your better wishes, his lips pressed to yours, and somehow then, your body remembered that adrenaline could also make you fight, and you did fight, thumping your hands balled into fists against his chest and his shoulders, as his hand gripped your chin tighter and his tongue forced its way down your throat. Once he’d gotten tired of your struggle, his other arm hooked around your waist, and he pulled you closer, pressing you against his body.
Your screams were muffled by his kiss as it grew deeper, and at some point, he’d decided on biting your lip painfully, drawing blood once he’d threatened you to shut the fuck up before he gave you something to cry about for real.
You remembered that the first time Gojo had kissed you, it had been soft and tender, nothing like this kiss that was violent and demanded submission; once his hand moved from its grip on your chin, it grasped your hair, fingers twisting and tugging to tilt your head back.
His lips left yours, now red and soon purple and blue, and made their way down your neck to mark them the same.
Every scream was futile, every plea for mercy fell on deaf ears.
At some point, you may have heard your cat meow for something... food? Out of sympathy? You weren’t sure, all you could think about were the painful hickeys on your collarbones and traveling down your bosom.
“I don’t know why you’re so resistant. You yourself called me selfish,” he murmured, ripping the top part of your clothing with the nonchalance with which one would peel a banana. At the sight of your exposed breasts, he was like a man rabid, slamming you backwards into the wall without much regard for head injury. His left arm caged you in, while his right pressed painfully onto your breast.
He paused for a moment, and grinned salaciously.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that~! You look so docile... it’s weird coming from you.”
To that, a fire renewed in your eyes, and you spat directly in his face. His lips curled again in satisfaction, barely reacting to the spittle dripping down his pretty features.
“Fuck you.”
“I will.”
With a small chuckle, he jerked your face painfully to the left such that you couldn’t look at him directly as he took your breast into his mouth.
The idea of this bastard suckling on you, loudly, lewdly as though you’d belonged to him only made the churn in your stomach worse, but the desperate attempts to a knee to his chest were met with barely a resistance. Like he knew you couldn’t hurt him and it was only a matter of time until you stopped and succumbed to him.
The process was already happening - you could feel your nipples hardening and a new flow of heat in your panties. Your tears became more prolific - no longer fear, but rage, but the hand that kept you steady against the wall was impossibly strong.
Your head swam as a confused pleasure started to replace the pain and fear you were feeling. More clothing was torn off of you, more of your skin was marked and licked and sucked. Once your panties were ripped to shreds, he lay your now languid and fight-drained body against him, cooing appreciatively at the new helplessness, pumping two slender fingers up and down your wet inner core as he moved you from the hard wall to the soft bed.
You almost thanked him.
His fingers remained within you as he laid you down, but once he withdrew his touch as your pounding hazy head hit the pillow, he replaced them with the roughness of his tongue, penetrating you without the least bit of shame.
You let slip the moan you had been holding in in defiance.
“That’s it, baby, let me hear you.”
He continued to lick and you continued to mewl.
Once he’d tired of the taste of your cunt, he invaded your privacy in the most all-encompassing way possible, pushing every inch of a greedy, throbbing cock inside of you. As you cried from the stretch, he shushed you with a hand clasped over your mouth to muffle your screams.
As if someone was going to help you. Maybe your cat would come and watch, but he’d found something else to do.
“I know it hurts but you’ll get used to it, I promise, babe,” he murmured, groaning slightly as he seated himself to the hilt. “There.”
He stilled and in the silence of the moment only punctuated by both of your soft pants, you remembered how to sob.
His nose crinkled, and he let out of a soft sigh, cock jerking impatiently inside you.
“Why are you so stubborn?” He mused, leaning against you so that his head rested in the softness of your breasts. He could hear your heartbeat that doesn’t beat for him... but rather it did, because he is the one making it quicken in some odd rhythm of terror and pleasure.
You didn’t speak because there was far, far too much to yell.
As though a timer had rung to mark the end of his empathy, he rose onto his hands again, sighing as he adjusted into the plushness of your walls that didn’t reject him as fervently as you did. He moved, shoving two fingers down your throat to gag your renewed protests as he thrust into you repeatedly.
The short gasps with every stroke only encouraged him, and the immense pleasure he found in the light of your eyes starting to fade into a placid dullness.
“You love me,” he informed you with every rut.
You didn’t answer.
You weren’t sure what this disgusting repetitive sensation bringing your body to climax was. You were no longer sure what he was even talking about, just that there was a warm thing pumping inside of you and fingers down your throat and pain everywhere else in your body, particularly your neck and shoulders and arms and breasts, and you were staring into precious sapphires littering the base of twin lakes.
“You love me,” he repeated. “I know you do.”
#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#yandere gojo#yandere gojo x reader#tw noncon#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#gojo sm#not sfw#gojo smut#mae.drabble#mae.writing
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Be Our Guest
So uh.
This is a thing. That I am doing.
Anyway.
Alcina Dimitrescu x Female! Listener
Just so we’re clear this is too long to get to much so this’ll have a smut chapter next time. Just FYI. This is just implied smut but nothing happens, so enjoy.
Enjoy you stunning pomegranates
“Mother, I found her first - I should taste her blood!”
“No, me, I’m the one that said she was pretty!”
“Daughters, please. There’s plenty to go around, so don’t lose your heads.”
Through the throbbing pulsations in your head, you pry your eyes open enough to peer through your lashes. Three black clothed figures are in a perfect line, bickering amongst themselves until the towering white behind them reprimands them, patting them on their heads. It pushes through them, approaching you, until you can make out the figure.
A woman, undeniably tall, dressed elegantly in a white gown and hat, black gloved fingers fiddling with the cigarette holder with almost disturbing dexterity. Her red-painted lips stretch into an amused grin too big for her face, clearly noticing you rousing from unconsciousness. Kneeling, she reaches for you, patting your cheek.
“Wake up.” Her voice is more playful, like a mother ready to torture you with a day full of work. “Come now, wake up.”
Her patting grows harsher, and you blink a few times until she’s clear. By instinct you put your hand up in defense, and she backs away, her only objective having really been to wake you. Turning a bit to cough into your fist, you push down on the floor to sit upright, rubbing your eyes.
“She looked cuter passed out,” One of the black trio pouts, prompting one of the others to shush her.
The tall woman’s hand extends toward you, beckoning you. More confused than afraid, you take it, and she pulls - more like yanks - you to your feet. You feel a bit wobbly and maybe cold; a reminder that you are in fact alive, and here you are.
“Name?”
You blink, wrenching your attention from your momentary hunger pangs back to the woman. “E-excuse me, ma’am?”
“What is your name?”
Swallowing, you interlock your fingers to stop them from shaking. “[Name]. [Name] [Last Name].”
She nods. “Well met.” Almost flamboyantly, she puts her cigarette hand to her chest. “Alcina Dimitrescu - but you may address me as ‘Madam,’ ‘Ma’am,’ or ‘My Lady,’ understood?”
“Yes.” You don’t know what to do.
“... Well don’t stand there pouting, daughters, introduce yourselves.”
With visible glee, the black haired girl steps forward, giving you a somewhat snobbish grin through red-stained teeth. “Cassandra,” She sings, bowing her head.
Then the redhead. “Daniela.” Her smile is more... seductive, but one that signals to you her type of seduction isn’t the kind you’d want.
The blonde is last, her smile a Cheshire cat grin - one that simply says ‘danger’. Nothing more, nothing less. “Bela.”
“Good daughters.” Lady Dimitrescu grins in satisfaction, putting her hands on her hips. “Now, the moment we’ve waited for.” She then raises her hands, snapping her fingers.
“Yes, Mother!”
Cassandra and Daniela move to either of your sides, gripping your arms. They’re too strong to fight against, rendering you motionless in seconds. On your right, Daniella flashes you a smile, before gripping your wrist and slicing your palm with a curved blade.
You cry out, prompting her to move her lips to your ear. “Shhh... Plenty of time for screaming,” She purrs, stretching your arm out as Lady Dimitrescu approaches.
Wrenching your wrist from Daniela’s fingers, she leans down, pausing for a moment before dragging her tongue across your wound. Almost ravenously she does a few more strokes, sucking on it to get as much blood as she can. Fear and confusion bring nausea at the sight - you swallow whatever vomit threatens to wrench itself from you.
She pauses again, eyebrows raising, before her lips open into a red-stained grin as she stands straight.
“Sweet and succulent!” She declares, prompting the trio to close in on you more, holding onto your arm and partaking as well. “Now, now, daughters, we mustn’t be so hasty. This is just too good to disappear into the cellar.”
“String her up!” Bela grins. “Store her and we’ll drink from her when we wish!”
Daniela’s arm goes around your waist, her free hand holding your chin. “But she’s so cute - would it be fair to treat her like a pig?” “What do you say, Mother?” Cassandra asks.
With a quick onceover of you - why that includes an elevator look at you you’ve no idea - Lady Dimitrescu takes a drag from her cigarette, blowing a smoke ring toward your head. “Whether this girl has somewhere to go from here, it doesn’t matter,” She hums. “Her blood is some of the best we’ve had in a good while - she’s worth keeping alive.”
You swallow, Bela and Cassandra backing from you, Daniela moving behind you to keep cuddling you. “As of right now, she is a guest in our home,” Lady Dimitrescu continues. “I will deliberate as to what to do with her; Mother Miranda won’t need to know so long as she’s not making trouble. Daniela, show little [Name] where she’ll be staying.”
“Yes, Mother.” Daniella grips your arm, thrusting you outward as if dancing with you, before wrenching you back to her. With a sultry giggle she lifts you bridal-style into her arms, the other two waving at you as you’re sped away as though flying on a magical carpet.
It’s a smooth ride, one that’d easily repeatedly trick you into thinking you’re gliding instead of being carried, but a glance at Daniela’s grinning face reminds you that you’re indeed welcome - you’re not home.
A second passes, and she stops, putting you down onto your feet. However, her arms wind back around you, but around your shoulders, leaving you at the mercy of her teeth.
“Here we are!” She giggles, throwing her arm out, inviting you to look around the room. It’s large and... definitely more Versailles than any you’ve seen, but comfortable had it not been for the fact you’re here with women that could spell your demise.
Releasing you from her hold, Daniela circles in front of you, flashing you a smile alongside a tilt of her head. “I hope you enjoy your stay. And if there’s anything we can do to make your stay more...” She pauses for effect, running the blunt edge of her blade down your face. The cold steel freezes your spine, and your palms grow clammy. “Don’t hesitate to ask.”
She replaces the touch of her blade with her hand, forcing you to look in her eyes. “And I’m warning you~” She sings, “You’d better not do anything to make Mother regret her well-placed mercy. You understand me, little one?”
Quivering, you nod. “I-I understand.”
Her smile grows to show her teeth, and her blade snakes around the back of your neck, forcing you to lean forward to avoid being cut. Mischievous, she leans forward as fell, planting a kiss on your cheek before retreating, dispersing into locust-like insects before leaving, the door somehow closing when the swarm leaves.
Stepping away from the door, your lips purse and release with emotions and sounds that crash against each other, creating a practical thunderstorm in your chest. Everything’s still spinning a bit; your head still has a nasty bump from when some smelly hairy man with a hammer jumped you in the village. Your brain’s foggy, but your memories are still intact. How long, though, is the question.
Deciding to examine the room, you walk around, taking your shoes off and holding them to avoid staining the rug. The first thing you notice is the vanity, gilded and polished to perfection. Sitting down in front of it, you comb your fingers through your hair, more to calm yourself down than anything. Eventually, your hands fall still in your lap, and you stare into the eyes of a girl powerless to stop whatever will happen to her in this castle.
Dread slowly twists your stomach, and you stand, meandering to the window. The snow falls swiftly, nearly obscuring the view; a telltale sign a snowstorm is brewing. No sense in trying to escape and risking frostbite.
“I guess... I just wait now,” you mutter.
Helpless, you head over to the bed. Shedding your coat, you fold it neatly and put it on the nightstand, crawling into the layers of blankets. It smells like linen that, though clean, hasn’t been touched in years, not even by the faintest speck of dust. What’s there instead is an oddly comforting aroma, like grandma’s house but if she were rich.
Reaching into your pocket, you tug out your phone. No signal.
You’re isolated, locked away, with no one knowing where you are.
The knowledge brings tears to your eyes, hanging over you as you tug the covers over your head, eventually curling up and drifting softly to sleep.
___
What rouses you from sleep isn’t your alarm clock as you’d have hoped, nor is it the chirp of the birds or your phone ringing asking where you’ve been. Rather, it’s your nose being, for lack of a better word, jiggled. Someone or something is poking the tip and wiggling it in circles.
Jerking your head a bit, you swat with your hand, opting to cover your nose, furrowing your brows.
Then a hand grips your wrist, and your eyes open. With black hovering above you, you’re thrown into perfect alertness, the red hair skirting over your cheek sending your palms down as you attempt to sit up properly.
Daniela grins maliciously at your reaction, licking her lips. “Mother needs you.”
As she says that, a swarm of bugs burst through the door, clouding around you for a moment. Their buzzing almost seems to mimic your cries, some landing on you to wrench more screaming from you, before they pull away from you, concentrating at the foot of the bed, eventually forming Cassandra, Bela eventually sauntering in as well.
“Y-Your mother’s asking for me?” You near-squawk.
Cassandra snorts. “Of course. What else?” She asks. “Mother really likes you. Now, upright.”
You’re so spooked by the intrusion and the presence of all three sisters that you hurriedly slide away from Daniela and onto the floor, sliding into your shoes. Swallowing, you jolt at the sisters approaching you, a bead of sweat falling from your brow when their hands raise.
“Oh shit.”
They each grip you with both hands, suddenly turning into insects aside from them and holding you in the air, and just like with only Daniela you’re gliding. Only this time, you’re screaming horrendously, but the sound is so drowned out by the triplets’ sadistic giggling you’re unsure you’re making a sound. One hand crawls up your leg, causing you to squirm, and for a moment their faces materialize just so you can see them laugh at you for a moment.
Through sharp turns and whatever else, you’re eventually unceremoniously tossed to your feet, standing in front of a door. Whirling around, the girls materialize again, waving at you before dispersing into their swarms, swirling around you to make you squeal before flying off, likely to get to their own duties. Biting your lip, you turn back around, raising your hand to knock on the door.
“Enter,” Lady Dimitrescu’s voice calls. As you do, she continues, “Very good. At last, someone else around here with any sort of dignity and manners.”
“You... wanted to see me?” You ask, closing the door behind you.
“Sit.”
Peeking, you note the bench near the vanity where she’s sitting, avoiding eye contact with her reflection as it applies overwhelmingly red lipstick. Softly, you sit down in it, folding your hands on your knees.
“As you’re most definitely aware, I’ve had a discussion with my daughters as to what to do with you, and I’ve come to understand you’re certain to meet a grizzly demise if you attempt to leave this place.” The calm in her voice and the way she momentarily looks at you through the mirror twists your stomach. “... Ah. Dear girl, your heartbeat - I can hear it. It’s music to my ears.”
Pausing, she wipes some stray lipstick from the corner of her lips. From here, she looks normal sized, but you’re a good stretch from her. Swallowing, you try your best to remain composed. With no one coming to save you or even knowing you’re here, your best hope of survival is appealing to this giant of a woman.
“My daughters and I both adore you - and I mean adore you.” At first she cranes her neck, but then decides to turn her chair around, gesturing at you with her lipstick. “Look at you, my dear! Delicious blood, yes, but such pretty looks - it’d be a waste to just toss you down into the cellar.”
“So... what are you going to do to me?”
She throws her head back to laugh. “To you, the four of us can agree anything’s possible. With you, the decision itself is clear.” Her smile falls into a straight, business-y line, and you gulp. “You’ll become a resident of my castle, and you will not die a horrible, painful death.”
Relief at not dying washes over you, but then she stands and approaches you in what feels like a blink, and you flinch.
“However.” She uses a gloved hand to lift your chin. “You are not to leave, disobey, and you will repay us by allowing us to drink your blood. That is our condition. If you decide you don’t want to stay, then out of the good of my heart, I can promise you right now that your death in this room will be quick and painless.”
Your face grows cold. So you can be a personal bloodbag for all four denizens of the castle, or you can die. Splendid.
“Think about it. No one’s going to live to even see your face if they try to save you, and you’ll have the pleasure of being in my care as opposed to that fool Heisenberg,” She hums along with a chuckle deep in her bosom. “And if you want my personal opinion, you’d be far better off.”
Do you really have an option? “... O-Okay. I’ll stay in the castle.”
Her face brightens with that signature smile. “Ah, good girl!” She leans down and her hand reaches to pat your cheek. “We’ll find ways to take your blood that won’t leave scars, don’t you worry.”
Ring! Ring!
With a roll of her eyes, she straightens up. “As if there’s any more ways to take up my time...” She beckons you to follow as she returns to her vanity, and you awkwardly stand at her side as she sits back down, picking up the phone.
A moment passes, and she composes herself. “Mother Miranda, I regret to inform you that something unexpected has happened, and I’ll be a bit late for the meeting.” Glancing at you, she beckons you again, scrunching up her nose at your confusion. Lifting her free hand, she pats her lap twice, and beckons you again.
You blink. Does she want me to sit in her lap or something?
“Are you... asking me to sit?” You ask, and she nods. As you begin the motion she guides you the rest of the way with her hand around your arm, and you awkwardly shuffle so you’re comfortable.
Through her dress and your clothes, she’s cool to the touch, but not to imply she’s a walking corpse or something. Glancing at her reflection, she gives you an almost cheeky smirk as she adjusts her arm to keep you balanced.
“No, Mother Miranda.” Who is...? “Yes, of course, I understand the importance of this meeting. This will take me about fifteen minutes at most... Yes, Mother Miranda, I swear.” Then she nods, her hat gracing your forehead. “Very well.”
Then she hangs up the phone, letting out an exasperated huff. “So demanding.” And with no effort at all, she lifts you below your arms and stands, putting you on your feet like a toddler, patting your head. “You’ll have the pleasure of dining with us tonight. Since she seems to like you so much, Daniela will be responsible for ensuring you know where to go and what to do.”
Trying not to protest or show nervousness, you nod, to which she gives a satisfied upward nod.
“Now then, you’re grown enough to remember where your room is, yes? But feel free to explore the castle - but allow me to warn you, the cellar is off-limits. Do you understand?”
You nod. “I-I understand, Madam.”
“Very good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have matters to attend to. When I return, I expect you’ll be well accustomed to the castle.” She flashes you a smile, her hip gracing your shoulder as she passes you. “And [Name]?”
You turn to face her, some sweat dripping down your neck. “Yes, Madam?”
Her eyes narrow, but her smile doesn’t drop; a look that says you’re in for something when she returns. “Enjoy your stay.”
Then she leaves, and the door shuts behind her, leaving you to listen to the sound of her footsteps fading away. Swallowing, you meander towards the door yourself, pushing it open.
And just as you do, the buzz of the insect swarms fill the air, and you clench your fists to stay calm even as the sisters materialize. With playful yet sinister smiles, they approach you, with Daniela going behind you to hug you just like before.
“Mother’s left for her meeting,” Cassandra points out.
A crazed look in her eye, Bela reaches and pokes your face. “I haven’t cut open a pretty girl in a while!”
“No, no~!” Daniela near-whines. “I’ve always liked the cute ones - I say we play with her a little.”
“And Mother made us promise not to leave scars.” Cassandra reaches out, cupping your chin, grinning at your face losing color from the dread twisting your stomach. “So don’t worry. We’ll be gentle.”
“We promise,” Daniela purrs.
#alcina x reader#alcina dimitrescu#lady dimitrescu#resident evil#resident evil village#re8#re8 dimitrescu#my writing#bela dimitrescu#cassandra dimitrescu#daniela dimitrescu#lady dimitrescu x female reader
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on the french mistake, i also think there’s something there about dean seeing alternate universe “dean” experiencing a life so easily filled with comfort, in contrast with real dean who has had to fight his entire life since he was like a toddler. like comfort and living without fear is such a foreign concept for him that seeing it given to any version of him so easily was like pulling a fish out of his water. and tbh it really makes me all the more bitter abt the finale bc he never got to truly experience feeling fully safe or comforted at all in his life, and that was it. (sorry if this makes no sense i started rambling a little lol)
oh for sure. like, the french mistake is very much about class, and even though supernatural’s class politics (just like everything about supernatural) are muddled and inconsistent throughout the show, i love how ben edlund takes the premise and actually digs into the humour/irony/inconsistency around sam and dean being played by millionaires with mansions and alpacas and model wives and foundation and perfect teeth and chauffeurs and the ability to get anything with the snap of their fingers! like it’s so DISSONANT to think about how the story is constructed and the amount of money poured into generating it into the world especially when to sam and dean this is literally just their own maxed-out stolen credit card day to day life
and like it’s deeply disturbing for both sam and dean to witness, but sam has a more immediate comfort with using his alter ego’s wealth. they go to jared’s house instead of jensen’s, sam is the one who suggests stealing jared padalecki’s money to buy the artifact (HUGE win for the samgirl community there). whereas dean just absolutely resolutely is SO spooked by the comfort and almost wants nothing to do with it. (”MORE money? you pay these two jokers enough as it is”) which for sure is at least partially a straightforward disdain for rich people. and it’s also just very funny and true. and a dig at the idea that these rich actors can ever know what it’s like to Be Sam And Dean, yk?
but it’s also like — dean has a resolute tendency to sublimate desire into hatred. if he wants something that he can’t admit to himself that he wants, he will process it as “i want nothing to do with this thing” and express that accordingly. it’s like that post that’s like dean winchester voice i have the things that i want and the things that i pretend to want and the things that i have and if any of those overlap even slightly i will kill everyone in this room and then myself. and part of him wants comfort! which is Not to say that dean would be happy or actually want to live in the french mistake universe, he’d be miserable. but part of him i think absolutely is so taken aback by “it’s THIS easy? it could be THIS easy? there is a horrible alternate version of me who gets paid THIS much to do THIS little and doesn’t live in constant fear of death or dying and is like pampered and smothered in adoration?” and part of him wants that comfort. NOT the fame or adoration or public perception — dean hates, hates, hates anyone outside him thinking that they know him, or professing to be able to understand or tell his story, and he hates the meta stuff. but part of him WANTS that comfort and to live without fear and he entirely hates that he wants that!!
and then of course there’s the added dimension of the fact that class is so loaded w gendered and sexualised signifiers in this episode. like everything about french mistake universe jared and jensen (who, again, we never meet, only see the spectres of, which, GENIUS choice) — the makeup, the male model shoots, the poppers — is Absolutely effeminised in contrast to sam and dean’s whole deal. like this episode really puts forward the thesis that Actors Are Sissies. all the comforts and wealth they have make them “less of a man” in dean’s eyes particularly (since that’s so much and constantly dean’s preoccupation). so like.... what does it mean to desire, even a tiny bit, that comfort or financial stability or ease of a life that isn’t trying to kill you if it’s also something that “softens” you? that makes you less of a man? i think for dean that’s terrifying
tl;dr there are a gordian knot of particularly classed and gendered reasons why the french mistake universe shakes dean to his core! which is not even to fully delve into the metanarrative aspect
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sugar, we’re going down swinging
Or, Inej comes back to her old perch in Kaz's office, only to find it already occupied. (ao3)
"She was somewhere to the right of him, moving without a sound. He’d heard other members of the gang say she moved like a cat, but he suspected cats would sit attentively at her feet to learn her methods." - Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows
The first thing Inej sees upon climbing Kaz’s window at the Slat is a pair of round, brown eyes peeking at her curiously through the glass.
Inej does not consider herself easy to spook but the sight very nearly makes her slip on a frost-covered roof. She gracelessly falls inside the room rather than climbs in and the cat’s eyes follow her move from the – is that a pillow?
It is, in fact, a velvet pillow, on a windowsill that used to be Inej’s perch. And on this pillow lays a small, sleek black-and-white cat, just like all of the ones that always seem to sneak around Fifth Harbor in their own little gangs, running their own little jobs like miniature Barrel rats. The only difference is that this cat looks clearly well taken care of, with its shiny fur and intact ears, although it seems to be missing one of its front paws.
The cast continues to stare at Inej. Inej continues to stare at the cat. They both stay frozen for a good few minutes until Kaz’s irritated voice fills the room:
“Are you going to close the window, Inej? You are letting the cold in.”
Inej blinks. The cat, apparently satisfied with his victory in the staring contest, gracefully twists on the pillow and begins cleaning his striped tail with utmost precision, not paying Inej any more mind.
She closes the window with a slightly-louder-than-necessary creak.
“Ah, I see that you have replaced me already. You got yourself a cat.”
“Please, do not be ridiculous.”
Kaz is, predictably, hunched over some thick pile of papers on the desk, and there is some kind of forceful casualness in his posture that it looks more and more staged the longer she surveys it. If Inej did not know him as well as she does, she would’ve surely missed the slight pink tint of the skin of his cheekbones.
She can feel her mouth involuntarily curve into a grin.
“So, you did not get a cat?”
“I said nothing of this sort.” Kaz crosses something off on one of the parchments; the cuff of his shirt stains black with ink. “I told some newbies to catch a few cats from the streets and bring them here. Apparently, rodents tend to swarm in the only properly isolated and headed place in the Barrel. Hence, the cats.”
Inej steals a glance at the cat on the pillow. It has finished the toiletries and apparently starts to doze off with his little hand rested on his single paw. It is so adorable that Inej feels herself melt a little; she loves cats, had a few as a kid, has one on the Wraith now. They are practical pets to have effective, and intelligent, and shameless. Just like crows.
A thought crosses her mind.
“Did you have a cat on the farm, Kaz? In Lij?” she asks quietly, cautiously; she makes a point not to ask about his past too often, scared not to spook him. But he always answers when she asks directly, especially after she comes back to him from the sea, and he does so now, even if it’s a clipped and somehow cold reply.
“It was a farm, Inej, Of course we had a cat.” Another aggressive scratch of the quill against parchment. “As I was saying, rodent control.”
Inej slowly kneels on the ground, extending her open palm towards the cat. She doesn’t want to disturb it, but its velvety ears are simply irresistible – they twitch under her gentle touch and the cat does not even open its eyes. It seems completely at ease on this windowsill, as if it knew nothing bad can happen while it's here with Kaz.
“What’s its name?”
Inej waits for Kaz to tell her the cat does not have a name.
Instead, she hears a heavy sigh.
When she turns towards him, she has to bite on her lip to stop the laughter bubbling in her chest.
Kaz tilted back on his chair and is fixing his stare resolutely on the ceiling; the flush on his cheeks is undeniable now, just like the scowl on his face. Anyone else would think the scowl is directed at her, but Inej knows that Kaz is annoyed with himself and no one else.
“… it’s a she.”
If Inej was slowly approaching the cat, she positively slides towards Kaz. Smoothly as a shadow, she walks around the desk, brushing her fingertips on the wood, until she stops right beside Kaz’s chair. He’s still not looking at her. She’s afraid her cheeks will burst if she continues to grin so wide.
She hops onto the desk, right beside the papers Kaz was so tremendously occupied with earlier, and crosses her legs.
He has a fucking cat sleeping on a fluffy pillow in his office.
“Kaz. Darling. What is her name?”
His Adam’s apple bobs up. For all these times he stripped teased in front of her, Inej has never quite wanted to eat him whole the way she does now.
“ … Marzipan.”
If the Dregs two stories below heard something that sounded suspiciously alike to a deep-bellied bellow of laughter coming from Dirtyhands office late at night right after the Wraith docked in the Fifth Harbour – well, no one would believe them if they talked about it anyway.
Just like no one would believe their own eyes if they saw Wraith and Dirtyhands later that night; cramped on their respective sides of the bed, smiling in the darkness, while a small cat, vibrating with purrs, sleeps curled between them until dawn.
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Secret Saturday prompt? Van Rook ties up and gags Zak then stuffs him into a satchel.
Zak was skilled. He was knowledgeable. He was powerful.
He was also twelve, and, despite his best efforts, not terribly tall.
As such, it wasn’t terribly difficult for Van Rook to knock him out. Now, separating him from his family and getting the drop on him? That was difficult. Whatever other cryptid abilities the kid had, enhanced senses had to be one of them. Or perhaps some form of ESP.
Anyway, one dart to the shoulder, and Zak was out. Van Rook, with skills honed over a lifetime, soon had him disarmed, securely tied, gagged, and in the bag. He put the boy’s weapons into a separate bag. He wasn’t like his ridiculous ex-apprentice, who’d leave the potentially valuable magic weapon in the bag with the magic cryptid child.
Feh.
Now. Delivery. Most amateurs would expect this to be the safe easy part. Not so. In fact delivery, particularly to first-time clients, was the most dangerous part of the job. Van Rook couldn't count the times a client tried to kill him to get out of paying for bounties or services rendered.
He couldn't suppress a smile at the memory of the last man who tried to backstab him in that particular way.
He set the plane down lightly, next to the ruins. Well, if this client didn't pay up, there were plenty of other people who would. This particular guy just happened to sit at the sweet crossroads of 'good pay' and 'no apocalypse.'
There was a faint squeak from the bag strapped into the seat next to him. He raised an eyebrow. Kid should have been asleep for another half an hour.
He might have to add resistance to drugs to the list of freaky things about the kid.
He reached over and pulled the zipper down slightly. A pair of faintly glittering amber eyes stared up at him from a flushed face. The kid tried to mutter something around the gag, but failed to produce anything intelligible. Van Rook pulled the zipper back up. This was met with a muffled shout and thrashing.
No skin off Van Rook's back if the kid decided to exhaust himself.
Calmly, he went through his post-flight check before unstrapping the bag and making his way off the small plane.
His client was already standing there, on the grass, sweating and mopping his forehead with his sleeve despite the relatively cool weather, flanked by bodyguards. His face lit up when he saw Van Rook, and even more when he saw the bag.
"You have it, then," he said, excited.
"Of course," said Van Rook.
"Well, hand it over, then," he said, reaching.
Van Rook held up his hand. His client stopped with an affronted look on his face. "First," said Van Rook. "Money. Second, I have, maybe, one, two scruples. You say you need him to control this cryptid? Show me the cryptid."
"Scruples?" said the man, taken aback. "You were advertised-"
"Yes, yes, I know, everyone thinks they want this, this man with no scruples. But they don't. They trick themselves, see? A man with no scruples... a man with no scruples, is a man who wouldn't think twice about just taking the money any way he could. You see?"
The bodyguards had their hands on their weapons. Posers. Van Rook had never taken his off.
"... and, the other scruple?"
Van Rook smiled, nastily. "What do you think? I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt. You tell me to sell you a twelve year old. What am I supposed to think?"
The client had gone very red in the face. "I assure you-"
"Assure me with money. And the cryptid," said Van Rook. "Words can't buy me dinner."
"Very well, then."
The man turned and waddled into the ruins. Electric lights had been strung up to illuminate the darker areas, and there was a significant amount of digging equipment. Someone had been excavating. Most likely less than legally. Van Rook wondered how long it would take the other Saturdays to find this place and mount a rescue. Not that it mattered. The hell family would cease to be his problem as soon as he was paid and away. The client got to deal with them then.
He noted the kid had gone still. Worn himself out, maybe? Or perhaps the conversation with the client had spooked him. Kid might face off against the likes of Argost, but he was still only twelve.
They climbed down several flights of stairs that ultimately terminated in a large, only half-lit cavern. However, the ligting was good enough for Van Rook to see both the massive pile of treasure and the gnarled giant that guarded it.
"A spriggan," said the client, whispering. "All this way, and we can't make the damn thing move." Then he laughed. "There's your payment, for you," he said, waving at the treasure mound.
You know what? thought Van Rook. Screw this guy.
On the other hand, this had been hard work, and he did very much want to get paid. He had expenses.
Van Rook set the bag down and unzipped it, dodging a sloppy attempt at a kick from the kid. He had to give him credit for guts and even getting into position while tied up.
Van Rook hauled him into a sitting position. The client reached down to grab his chin. And forced him to look up.
"My, his eyes really are yellow, aren't they? Except for those, he almost looks human."
The kid growled, deep in his throat. It might have been one of the few sounds available to him around the gag, but it didn't help his case. The client laughed nervously. "Of course, the disposition... haha."
Van Rook rolled his eyes. It wasn't like the client would see behind his visor.
"Now, uh, make the monster go away."
The kid continued to glare.
"I think you'll have to be more specific."
"The spriggan. The giant. Make it leave. Make it go far away."
Still nothing. No magic spooky nonsense, no glowing eyes, no screaming cryptids, nothing.
"Let me, sir," said one of the bodyguards. He leaned down and whispered something lengthy in the kids ear, one hand gripping his shoulder. As he spoke, the kid's breath grew ragged and his skin took on a sickly cast. He tried to pull away from the bodyguard (towards Van Rook, for incomprehensible reasons), but despite the man's shortcomings in the bodyguard department, he could restrain a bound preteen who was probably still recovering from a dose of knockout drugs.
When the man let go, the kid was shaking. Although, that could easily be explained by their surroundings. He'd picked the kid up in Bermuda, and he'd been dressed for it. Now, they were in Cornwall. Much colder.
"Well? Go on, then," ordered the bodyguard.
The kid tried to say something around the gag and was promptly backhanded.
"Hey, hey," Van Rook said grabbing the bodyguard's wrist when he went in for another strike. "Let's hear what he has to say, huh?"
He untied the gag and tugged it from the kid's mouth, only allowing himself a second to be disturbed by how the cloth tore against his teeth. The boy worked his jaw up and down a few times and licked his lips before he tried to speak again.
"I can't actually do what you want me to do," he said, scowling.
The client's face turned thunderous. "Excuse me?"
"Well, to begin with, I'm out of range, and even if I wasn't, my powers are pretty limited without the Claw." He looked at Van Rook with ill-disguised hope.
"I'm not giving you your magic weapon, but nice try."
The kid's face fell back into a scowl. "Beyond that, I don't know who told you my powers were mind control, but they're not." He didn't elaborate. "I can't make that spriggan leave."
"But," said the client, hands fluttering, "magic-"
The boy pulled his lips back in a snarl, revealing too-white, too-sharp teeth. "Just because it's magic doesn't mean it doesn't have rules, idiot."
The list of things Van Rook was truly scared of was short and topped by his own empty wallet and whatever was going on with Argost. Zak Saturday didn't come close. But in ten years... Well. Van Rook would be retired by then, one way or another.
And, to be frank, the kid being stubborn right now wasn't his problem either. "So," he drawled. "I brought you the kid. Where's my money?"
The client's furious expression turned meek in a heartbeat. "Well, you can see-"
"Either pay me now, or I'm leaving with my merchandise."
"But-"
"Not my problem. Pay. Me."
"Well, I-"
Across the cavern, the giant roared something that almost sounded like language.
"He'll pay you," said the kid.
"What?" chorused the adults.
"He'll pay you. The spriggan. The spiggan will pay you, if you can get these guys to go away leave him alone. Double."
Van Rook looked at the kid, then the cryptid, then the massive pile of treasure the cryptid was sitting on. He shrugged. "Sounds good to me."
"You can't be serious!"
"I'm always very serious about getting paid."
.
Zak sat next to the spriggan, arms around his knees, and tried not to breathe too deeply. Van Rook had left a while ago.
"Thanks for letting me wait here with you," he said. He meant it, and the cavern really was much more pleasant once the spriggan cleaned up Van Rook's work. "Mom and Dad should pick me up any time now." He glanced at the entryway and shuddered. It wasn't like he'd never seen blood before, and it wasn't like he'd never been kidnapped before, but...
The spriggan dropped an ancient, ratty fur coat around his shoulders. He looked up with a weak smile.
"Thanks."
#the secret saturdays#ask#answer#prompt#prompt fill#slowly clearing out my drafts#this has been three paragraphs done for six months im sorry
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Ok, so I remember Dragon coming up with a Chloe DP au, and for some reason that combined in my head with your post about Vlad and the rich kids and the S4 spoilers so... imagine Chloe at Vlad’s party during a ghost attack, feeling depressed and useless and generally just thinking about being replaced. somehow she ends up in Vlad’s lair, self reflecting in front of the portal when it gets hit by a power surge. Most of the class just sees her being carried out to the ambulance, but 2 know better
Me: “I need to work on all my other fics.”
Also me: “Time to work on several pages of Chloé half dying!!! And another bootleg version of one of Dragon’s AUs!”
Vlad and Danny are on kinda friendly terms in this mostly because I wanted to write them snarking at each other.
Chloé was glad to get out of Paris for a while. A decision her father had made after, well. Certain incidents. Making her feel unsafe in Paris. So she was sent away to a place without Hawkmoth or Akumas.
Smoothing out the skirt of her pale yellow, nearly white, dress, she contemplated the place she ended up.
She would have been prepared for New York. But of course Audrey said she was too "Unexceptional" yet. But as Audrey had to go on a business trip to meet other rich business people at some fancy party, Chloé's dad convinced her to take her to this place.
Not that business parties full of other rich people were something she really wanted to deal with. They were usually too condescending at best. A few of them could be creepy. Giving her looks that made her want to take a shower for a year.
It was almost enough to make her want to stay in Paris. But the one thing that made her decide it wouldn't be too bad was who was hosting the party.
Don't get her wrong. Vlad Masters definitely gave off some strange and downright intimidating vibes. But the few times Chloé had met him at events like this, he was one of the few adults who seemed to respect her, despite her age. And he only used his threatening vibes on any of the other men looking at her.
That said, Chloé wasn't expecting much conversation with Vlad. They didn't usually talk much anyway, just polite conversation common at these things. And as Audrey was currently attempting to engage with him, almost as if she were blocking Chloé from getting near, it was unlikely she would.
"If you're going to commit a murder could you wait another twenty minutes? I have a bet going."
Chloé jumped, realizing someone was speaking to her. When she found who, her initial instinct was to glare. Blue eyes and black hair making her think of someone else.
However, as she took in the rest of the context, she found someone new. And male. A boy about her age.
"Who are you?" Chloé asked.
"Head of security," the boy said.
It was obviously a joke, from his tone and lopsided grin. And Chloé almost laughed at the idea of a teenager being any kind of security.
But she noticed the way he stood, the way he analyzed her. It reminded her of Adrien, in a way. Seemingly all smiles and laid back, but far more capable than he looks.
There was something else about him too. It actually reminded her of Vlad. The general vibes he gave off. But Vlad felt more… firey. Heat under his skin, waiting for the temper to snap. This boy felt more cold. Not emotionally, but like a snowfall that could quickly engulf you in a blizzard.
"I think a name would be better," Chloé said.
"Call me Danny then," the boy said, offering a hand.
"Chloé Bourgeois," she replied, politely taking it. "So, judging by the fact that you didn't give me your last name, you don't want me guessing who you're connected to."
"You probably wouldn't know them," he said. "My family's known for their studies on the paranormal. They're scientists. And not really the kind for this kind of party."
"But you are?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Absolutely not," he said. "But hey. Vlad's trying to buy his way to an apology by giving me money if I hang out and make sure nothing spooks the guests. Other than him, of course. Might as well put it in my college fund. So, you actually planning a murder or not?"
That almost made her laugh. A small smile on her face, Chloé's gaze drifted across the room to her mother.
"No murder yet," Chloé said. "If I do kill someone, it'll be the local supervillain back in Paris."
"Heard something about that," Danny said. "My parents keep debating on checking it out. It's obviously paranormal and magical, but they specialize in Ghosts."
"Are they the Ghostbusters?" She did actually laugh at that one.
"Something like that," he chuckled.
All of a sudden, Danny stiffened up. It had to be a trick of the light, but she could've sworn a mist came out of his mouth. He frowned, looking around carefully.
"Sorry, I have to go," Danny said. "A disturbance in the garden. See you around."
"Yeah, see you," Chloé sighed.
As he ran off through the crowd, Chloé wondered how he knew about the "disturbance". Maybe he was actually part of the security team and had an earpiece in?
Brushing the thought off, Chloé grabbed a drink from a passing waiter. Then she headed the opposite direction.
She wanted some time alone. It had been nice, talking to Danny. But the party was still overwhelming. She might be out of Paris, which meant less stares and whispers. But still too much interaction for her liking lately.
Chloé headed out of the main ballroom. Few paid attention to her. Those that did were quickly dragged back to their conversations.
As she wandered the halls, Chloé wondered if she could get lost in here. If her mother would notice. Maybe she could just. Not go home and just secretly live in Vlad's mansion.
A tempting idea, if she could figure out how to do it. But for now, she settled for exploring.
There was a library. Very nice. Bookshelves along every wall, except for a spot for a fireplace. Comfortable chairs and a couch to read on.
She looked through the bookshelves. It seemed well stocked, despite the impossibility of ever reading them all. Most were nonfiction, texts on various subjects. A few seemed to be typical fiction, though Chloé didn't inspect those too close lest she judge Vlad's collection of trashy romance novels.
What intrigued her was one large shelf, right across from the fireplace. These books actually looked well-used. Texts on the paranormal. Hadn't Danny said something about that? Between this and the familiarity with Vlad, perhaps it was a family-friend situation.
Dragging a finger along the spines of the books, she picked one at random. Pure curiosity more than actual interest.
The book was soon dropped and forgotten when the shelf slid open to reveal a doorway.
Now that had her curious and interested.
A look over her shoulder at the door, and Chloé was in the new room. No, a new hall of stairs. Descending down stone steps.
She was suddenly worried she would find some sort of kinky dungeon type place. Perhaps she should quit while she was ahead.
It was the buzzing in her fingertips that made the decision for her. Something… familiar.
It wasn't like the buzzing she felt near an Akuma, or near someone using a Miraculous. No, this felt more like Vlad. Like Danny. Whatever she was feeling from them, there was more of it down here.
Eventually the stairway opened to a room. It looked like a laboratory of some kind. Weapons and tools of shiny metal and magenta accents lined the walls. There were a few that traded magenta for green, but not as if two people consistently shared a space. More like one occasionally left objects behind.
The one thing in the room that was overwhelmingly green and not magenta was against one wall.
It almost looked like a doorway of sorts. Or a Magic Portal, really. Swirls of green that she couldn't see into. And if she hadn't spent the last year and a half being attacked by Magical Supervillains and becoming a Hero herself, she would've assumed it was just a large tv screen embedded in the wall for aesthetics.
The reminder of her time as a Hero brought back some bitter memories.
She might not have been the best person, but she was a good Hero. Chloé would have gladly continued being Queen Bee, despite the risks, because she had felt like she finally found a purpose. But Ladybug told her no, she couldn't have the Miraculous anymore. For her safety of course.
What a joke. Not only had Chloé been in more danger without it, as there was no way she could defend herself against Hawkmoth. But the other Heroes were still active, even with their identities known.
With a sigh, Chloé attempted to distract herself. Walking around the room and investigating the weapons around the lab. They were strange. She wasn't a gun expert, but these didn't look normal. Not regular guns that shoot bullets.
Were they alien weaponry? That didn't seem right. Chloé wasn't an expert, having never met an alien(as far as she was aware). But the weapons seemed very based on Earth designs, their sizes intended for average Human use. Maybe weapons for Humans to use on nonhumam creatures.
Whatever it was, Chloé was now a bit curious. What did Vlad get up to when he wasn't hosting business parties like this? Did he perhaps moonlight as a superhero? With that Danny kid as the Robin to his Batman? Perhaps she should stay. Be the Jason Todd of the family. Though with less dying.
She almost laughed at the idea. But as a crack of thunder rang through the mansion, loud enough to be heard from this basement laboratory, she jumped, instinctively spinning around to look for an attack.
A second crack of thunder, and all the lights went dark.
Chloé was not afraid of the dark. She never had been, even as a child.
But she was afraid now. Because this wasn't a normal blackout. In a mansion like this, there would be emergency generators. They didn't kick in, which meant this was likely something else.
Amity Park was different from Paris. No Hawkmoth. No Akumas. But that didn't mean there was no danger.
And the thing Chloé had become afraid of, after so many Akuma attacks and even Hawkmoth himself coming to her home, her room, and confronting her. The thing she was afraid of was being unable to fight back.
Her breath began to quicken, the only noise she could hear in the dark room. Heart hammering in her chest, Chloé tried to calm herself down. This wasn't Paris. Whoever or whatever it was wasn't after her.
But what if it was? What if this person had decided she would make a good target? What if Hawkmoth had followed her, hoping to get revenge for failing him as Miracle Queen? What if it was someone else, furious about what she had involuntarily done, knowing that if something happened here, Ladybug's Miraculous Cure would be too late?
Hands trembling, Chloé remembered the weapons on the wall. It wasn't her Miraculous, but it was something. She refused to go down without a fight.
The only problem was that, in her panic, she had gotten turned around she couldn't remember which was she was facing.
Blindly choosing a direction, Chloé kept a hand out in front of her, slowly moving it back and forth hoping she'd hit a wall. Her ragged breathing and the click of her heels on the floor being the only sounds. A good sign, she hoped.
Her hand hit something. A wall, she thought. Somewhere to her left. Keeping her hand flat against it, she hoped to follow it until she found the weapon rack again.
She kept walking, barely noting how the sound of her footsteps changed from heels-on-tile to heels-on-metal. Had the floor been metal? She couldn't remember. The stairs up had been stone so obviously she was still in the lab.
The lights suddenly came back on, the blackout over. Yet Chloé wasn't nearly as blinded as she should have been by the sudden brightness. It was coming from behind her. Had she somehow found a different hallway out of the lab?
As she turned to head back to something familiar, a different brightness flickered on. But she was completely unaware, as all she could focus on was pain.
Burning, crackling under her skin. Through every inch of her. Worse than anything she had ever felt, as Civilian, Hero, or Akuma.
The pain began to subside. Not going away, but no longer the intense agony. Just an ache, but as if she had run a marathon around Paris without being transformed. Her throat still burned the worst though. Had she been screaming? She couldn't remember doing so, but it seemed likely given the pain.
Stumbling forward, she managed to find herself back in the lab. Yet her vision was blurry. So blurry, in fact, that when she looked down her white dress appeared black.
The pain and exhaustion was too much for her. Pitching forward, everything went dark again.
--------
The next thing Chloé knew, she was somewhere soft. Everything still hurt, which made her not want to move. But she could hear two male voices arguing.
"You should let me explain it to her."
"You will confuse and scare her with your morbid humor."
"And you'll just freak her out!"
"I have more experience in this."
"Not in explaining it!"
"I explained it to Danielle."
"And I explained it to everyone else because you had to be a fruitloop!"
"Are you still using that insult?"
"It still fits."
Registering that she should probably see what's goin on, Chloé went to get up.
Her right arm must've slipped off whatever she was laying on, as she almost immediately slammed back down. The feeling that had her jolting upright instead of trying again to be slow, was that it felt like something hit the inside of her arm?!
Inspecting the limb, she didn't find anything wrong with it. It was there. No burns or bruises. The worst thing was a chipped manicure.
As her gaze went further up her arm to her shoulder, she noticed something. A discoloration in her skin. It was hard to see, having to look nearly straight down and only being able to see what skin was showing. But there were thin lines across her shoulders and chest. She couldn't tell how far they went up her neck, or how much further they extended under her dress.
The lines looked almost like lightning. It was then that she remembered the lab. The pain. But she swallowed down her fear.
"Well say goodbye to swimsuit season," Chloé muttered, her voice still a little shaky and her throat still raw.
"Perhaps your humor will be helpful after all," one of the voices from earlier mused.
Chloé jumped, having completely forgot that there were people in the room. One was Vlad, the other was the "head of security" kid. Danny, wasn't it?
"What happened?" Chloé asked.
"You received quite a shock," Vlad replied.
"Oh, and my humor is too much for her," Danny glared.
"Kind of used to puns in horrifying situations," Chloé said. "One of my best friends loves making puns to deflect dealing with things."
And okay yes she also did that. But she was not going to tell them that. Even if the looks they gave each other probably meant they guessed as much.
"Where am I?" Chloé asked, looking around.
"One of the guest rooms," Vlad explained.
"Not a hospital?" She asked.
"A hospital isn't quite equipped to handle… this," he said.
"One of the guests was a doctor who did a general checkup," Danny said. "She was sure you probably just fainted from low blood sugar or something."
"And… and my mother?" Chloé asked.
"She is back at her hotel," Vlad said, visibly bristling. "I may not be father of the year, but her lack of concern is appalling."
The exasperated look Danny gave him said there was a long story there. Chloé wasn't sure she wanted to hear it right now.
"So why would a hospital be bad?" Chloé asked instead.
"That is quite a story," Vlad said. "Do you know what you were messing with in the laboratory?"
"I know it had weapons," she said. "Then the lights went out and I tried to find my way around."
"I think that makes her smarter than both of us," Danny said.
"I didn't enter an unstable device on a dare," Vlad glared. “I knew what I was doing.”
"You stuck your face right up to a prototype device not knowing if it was stable or not," he retorted. "You're lucky you only half died.".
Vlad glared at him again. Chloé could have sworn he man's eyes flashed red. It was more than just a trick of the light.
He said a hospital wasn't a good situation for her now. He implied that he'd had something similar happen to him. And those books on the paranormal, leading to a lab…
Vlad wasn't Human. At least not anymore. Danny wasn't either, most likely. And Chloé realized, with mounting horror, that she probably wasn't either.
Once more she focused on her hands. What… was she now? Chloé flipped through her knowledge of the paranormal. It couldn't be a Vampire or Werewolf. She didn't get bit or infected with anything. Most other creatures she could remember Humans becoming had very specific circumstances or longer processes.
Then, she recalled something Danny had said. His family deals with Ghosts.
As if to confirm her suspicions, her hands flickered out of existence. An involuntary whimper escaping her throat.
"I… I'm dead, aren't I?" Chloé asked.
"Only half way," Danny said.
"That is nowhere as reassuring as you think it is," Vlad said.
This time it was Danny's turn to glare. But his eyes flashed a green color instead of red.
Meanwhile, Chloé was having a crisis. She died. She fucking died. But she was still here.
She was vaguely aware of their voices. Both males had come closer, sitting beside her on the bed. She knew one, or maybe both of them, was telling her to breathe. To focus.
She tried to focus on how strange it was, sitting between them. One burning, one freezing. Was that related to… This?
It helped ground her. Remind her that she wasn't alone.
"That's right," Danny said. "You're not alone in this. Which is already better than what we got."
"You could have had a mentor," Vlad said.
"But you were still evil back then," he smirked.
Oh boy oh boy. This was going to get oh so complicated.
#danny phantom#miraculous ladybug#never let Danny and Adrien in a room together they will murder everyone with puns#phantom chloé au
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Valentine’s Week Day 1
Hello Ladies and Folks,
I am participating in the Valentine’s week event held by @dontneedadispenser !
This is Day 1 and amongst the suggested themes Beginning/Ending/Family, I did not choose Family.
Here is the link for it on AO3 or I copy-pasted it here under the cut, enjoy!
There was a knock at the door with the knife symbol.
Dinner was done with and Sniper had taken his time washing the dishes. Oddly enough, Spy didn't stay with him in the kitchen to help. Mundy knew that the Frenchman was sometimes just a bit tired of everyone's chattering at the dinner table.
"Huh?" Sniper frowned. His knocks received no answer. He knocked again.
"Come in."
Mundy pushed the door and entered.
"Hey, darl'! Sorry for the wait, loads of dishes tonight and I kept daydreamin' away." Mundy removed his sleeveless jacket and put it on the coat hanger without thinking about it. He looked over to the sofa. Lucien was standing up, pacing the room in front of the fireplace. Mundy went on. "Well, to be honest, I was uh… I was thinkin' of you. Couldn’t wait to see you."
Mundy took a seat on the sofa but Lucien kept on walking left, right, left, right.
"Love?"
The Frenchman stopped pacing the room and sighed. That's when Mundy noticed the overfilled ashtray on the coffee table and the bottle of wine of a non French château. That, in Lucien's language, was bad news. Mundy's eyes shot back up to his lover. He was maskless, the first few buttons of his shirt were open and he had rolled his sleeves up. He was smoking what looked like his billionth cigarette.
"Somethin's wrong?" Mundy stood up and went to his lover. "Hey, Lu'?" He went to wrap his arms around the man who looked so handsome, even if his hair was ruffled and his brow furrowed. But Lucien pushed him back and took a step away from him. "Lucien?"
Mundy's heart sank to his feet. He was used to Lucien having his moments of distress, of doubt, of frustration, especially when he thought back about his past days, or as he called it, his past life. But never before had he rejected Mundy's affection. On the contrary, Lucien always welcomed it warmly as he knew that it was in fact all he needed.
"Lu'...?" Mundy stayed there, his arms open for a hug that he never received. Lucien was giving him his back. "What is it? Did I do somethin'?"
"Non." Was the first word that the Frenchman finally uttered.
"What is it, then? Tell me."
Lucien sighed and walking past Mundy, he crushed his cigarette butt in the ashtray on the coffee table.
"Take a seat, Sniper."
Mundy's eyebrows jumped. Lucien never called him "Sniper" in private… He would at least use his name, if not a "mon amour" or another pet name. Mundy nonetheless obeyed while his eyes never left his lover. Lucien carded his hair back, still standing in front of the dancing flames of the fireplace. He took a deep breath and sighed.
"I… Think that the arrangement we have been having for months now should come to an end."
Mundy's eyebrows jumped.
"W-what? The arrangement?" The Aussie was not only distraught but almost disturbed by how cold-blooded the word was. Arrangement. They hadn’t signed a contract or anything, it just.... It just happened!
Lucien turned and his ice blue eyes met with Sniper. Mundy's heart had stopped.
"I am sorry as this must come as a surprise to you. But I have thought it through, again and again. You see," Lucien started pacing the room again in front of a devastated Mundy. "At first it was only once here, once there. Physical needs, nothing personal. But it has grown into something that has now invaded my life."
Lucien paused to take a deep breath.
"I…" Mundy was speechless and utterly bewildered. "What…?" He was holding his tears back while Lucien walked back and forth in front of him, with his gloved hands in his pockets and his eyes glued to the ground.
"Now, you have crossed a dangerous line, Sniper, the line of sentimentality. You hold feelings in your heart for me. Non, do not try to argue, I can see it in your eyes and in your body language. Long gone are the days in which you would wait for me to open the door for you, long gone are the days where I had to put your vest on the coat hanger for you. You now walk in this suite with baffling familiarity."
"I'm sorry… Spook, please…?"
"Non." Lucien stopped sharp and looked Mundy in the eye. "No more 'Spook'. And pray let me finish."
Mundy put a hand on his mouth. His heart had either stopped completely or was about to burst out of his chest. His legs were unresponsive and his fingers trembled on their own.
"You see, this arrangement could only last so long, here, in the middle of this base, both of us working to test weapons for a hat making company. None of this makes sense, but of course, neither do you or I. You, the solitary hunter, an exceptional sharpshooter; and me, the man of a million secrets whose very face remains one for most."
Lucien paused and went to take a seat on the armchair. Mundy's eyes stayed riveted on where he was standing. His heart was broken to smithereens. After all that time, after those battles, after all those evenings of silly drinking, all those getaways in the van, on the weekends, all those outings to town, the meals, the movies…?
"W-why? I… I understand you want more space, it's ok, I can give you that, I won't come here unless you ask if that's better, Spook, but please don’t destroy everything." He pleaded.
"Non. You do not understand."
Lucien stood up again and walked around the sofa.
"You do not understand." He headed to his bedroom and emerged again. Mundy was now standing up. He had removed his glasses and his hat.
"You do not understand that I am tired of your knocks on my door."
"I do understand! And now what? You're leavin' me! After all we did and all! You're just… You just spent ages here telling me that I'm just invading your space, well, if that's the problem then I can see you less often, I'm sorry! I didn't know you didn't like it as much as I do!" Mundy answered. His heartbreak had turned to anger and frustration.
"On that you are right, I do not enjoy your visits as much as you do."
Mundy's jaw dropped but he quickly clenched it and frowned furiously.
"Well then I won't come here again! Just… Just come to the van whenever you fancy!"
"Non. That will not be necessary." Lucien answered, still as cold-blooded as ever.
"Doesn't it do anythin' to you?!" Mundy exclaimed. "Any bloody thing?"
"What?"
"For fuck's sakes, we've been together for months now and out of the blue you snap at me and break up, and you expect me to just say ok and walk away?! I thought we were honest enough to understand each other! I thought…! Bloody hell!" Mundy punched the wall and clenched his jaw harder. The pain felt good, it poured cold water on his boiling nerves. "Why didn't you say anythin earlier? How the hell did you just turn like that? I mean… I don't get it…! I thought we were doin' very well and…ugh." Mundy covered his eyes with his sleeve to wipe the tears and hide his face. He turned his back to Lucien.
"Sniper?"
He didn't answer.
“I apologise for the suddenness of this. I understand that it does come as a surprise. I do admit it is rather impulsive of me.”
“Rather impulsive?! Rather imp - Mate!” Mundy snapped. “You’re telling me you just woke up this morning and thought ‘Oh yeah, let’s dump him!’ Is that what happened? Bloody hell! I was so wrong about you! I thought…!”
“What?”
“Well if Scout had reacted that way, yeah, right, I guess he’s young and he is how he is, but you? You? You’re… You’re much more mature, you’re more calm, you think before you do stuff, right? You don’t just wake up with an impulse and act on it!” Mundy’s shoulders sank as he sighed. “Guess I was wrong about that… Guess I was wrong about everything… Fuck me…”
“Sniper?”
“No! Stop! It’s… It’s horrible. It’s just horrible.” Mundy looked up at Lucien. “And you smile? You bloody smile at me? Was that the plan all along? Get me in your bed a few nights, toy with me and throw me out? Oh you bloody…” Mundy clenched his fist and threw it at Lucien’s face. The Frenchman dodged it with ease.
"Mundy?" Lucien asked with a high-pitched voice and a smug grin on his lips.
Mundy's eyes snapped open and he turned to Lucien.
"Shut up!” He threw another fist but it met with Lucien’s shadow on the wall.
“Mundy, you don’t understand!”
“Of course I bloody do! You used me!” The Aussie leapt to Lucien and this time he managed to catch his collar.
“Mundy, wait-!”
“No!” He pushed Lucien on the floor and headbutted him, straddling his body. “You have no idea how much I love you! And you went around makin’ me believe you felt the same but you were just playin’, you bastard! You heartless piece of shit!” He yelled, his hoarse voice trying to strangle down the cries and sobs through the punches he dealt.
“Mundy! Stop!”
Lucien’s shout made the Aussie's fist freeze mid-way to his jaw. His breath broke out of sync and his tears streamed down his face silently. There he was, on his knees, straddling a body that he used to be straddled by, at night, when no other eyes would see its beauty. Yeah, Lucien was gorgeous. The bastard was gorgeous, a lean body with shy muscles that Mundy used to touch, sometimes even scratch. Lucien liked his feral Bushman. He used to love him, or maybe he didn’t, eh?
Regardless, Mundy was now silently crying. He wasn’t one to usually let it show. Now that he recalled, everytime that he had been dumped, he’d go back to his van, drive far away and let his rage out on cacti, boulders, and game. Maybe he should do that, hop away and leave for his van?
No, he couldn’t. He looked down and saw the collar he was grasping firmly, his knuckles were bruised from the punches. Oh, Lucien’s nose was bleeding too and his eyes. Gosh his eyes… Even injured, the man had the bloody arrogance to look irresistible.
“Mundy?” Lucien asked and put his hands on Mundy’s.
“Shut up, please.”
“Non, you don’t… You don’t understand.”
“Repeat that one last time and I’ll make you eat your bloody teeth, ok?” Mundy’s voice was trembling. He closed his eyes and more tears were pushed to roll down his slender and rough cheeks. “You’re right.” Mundy sniffed. “I did fall in love with you. Fuck me, I did.”
Lucien smiled.
“But you’re wrong. I didn’t just fall for you recently.” The Aussie went on. “I’ve been in love with you since day one. Bah, doesn’t matter now I s’ppose.” Mundy wiped his face with his sleeve.
“Attends.”
[Wait.]
Lucien slipped his fingers inside Mundy’s palm before his hand flopped to the floor limply.
“What’s that?” Mundy frowned and opened his palm. “What?!” He exclaimed when he saw a silver shining key with a knife symbol carved on it. “What’s that mean? Lu’? Oh bugger...”
Lucien’s eyes were shut. When he opened them again, he was greeted with the view of Mundy’s jaw from underneath. He was lying on the sofa and his head was resting on the Aussie’s lap.
“Mundy?”
“Oh, you up now? Sorry… I hit you hard.”
Lucien smiled and it was sweet.
“Give me your hand, please.” He asked and Mundy obliged.
“What’s that all about? You‘re breakin’ up with me but giving me a key to your place and now you’re holding my hand. What does that mean?”
“It means that - and please do not punch me more for this - non, you don’t understand.”
“Alright then, explain yourself.”
“Mon amour… When I said that what we have been having should come to an end, I was not breaking up with you. On the contrary… Argh, help me please.” Lucien sat up and Mundy helped him. “I meant that I wanted to take things one step further, if you so wish too.”
“What?” Mundy’s jaw dropped.
“I never thought that you had fallen for me since the first time, because I did and it was simply out of any kind of understanding that you should feel the same for the old man that I am.”
“Wh…?”
"A few decades ago, oui, I would have believed it. Back then, I looked lovable, the sort of man who would make men and women's hearts break at the simple blink of my eyes. But now? Tss…" Lucien shook his head.
"Hey, now… Y-you're gorgeous, ok?"
Lucien looked up at Mundy and grinned, albeit sadly.
"I would love to believe so."
"C'mon… But yeah, tell me."
Lucien sighed.
“Mundy," He looked the Aussie in the eye. "I love you.”
The Aussie’s jaw dropped. It was the first time he heard it from those thin lips.
“I love the time that we spend together.” Lucien looked at his lover’s lagoon blue eyes.
“But you said my comin’ and goin’ here was annoying?”
“It is annoying that I have to tell you to come in each time. I want you to come here and consider this your home as much as mine, at least for the winter. You can’t stay in your van, you will freeze to death.” Lucien explained. “So please, take this key and… my heart, once and for all.” He tightened the grip on Mundy's hand. "Please?"
"B-But… Hold on. All the things you said…?"
"You chose to understand them the wrong way."
"But you said you didn't like it when I come here…?"
Lucien chuckled.
"Non, I did not say that. I said that I did not appreciate your visits as much as you do."
"Well, same difference!"
"Not at all." The Frenchman explained and put a hand on his lover's cheek. "Hasn't it occurred to you that I enjoy your visits more than you do, and not less?"
Mundy fell silent.
"Of course, it did not."
"You never told me. You never showed…!" Mundy answered, out of breath under the surprise.
"And you expect me," Lucien leaned back on the sofa. "The best secret intelligence expert that you ever had the privilege of meeting, and dare I say, the man you have fallen in love with, to simply show you my emotions?"
"Why not?"
"I am the Spy." Lucien answered. "I do not show what I feel."
"Why not?"
"Would you still love me if I did? Would you have taken the risk of falling for me, if you knew what was in my heart; if through that infamous scope of yours you could see the contents of my heart?"
Mundy looked at Lucien with lovestruck eyes. His pupils dilated and his shoulders slowly sank. He relaxed and leaned back on the sofa. Oh how he loved the sound of Lucien's voice…! Mundy laid an arm on the sofa's back and like a reflex, Lucien snuggled up closer to him.
"One of the reasons you fell for me, Mundy, is because you like the mysteries in me. You like the thrill of that leap of faith you take each time that you doubt my love for you and yet decide to follow your heart anyway. You like this doubt, it makes you vibrate with a curious warmth right here." Lucien gently tapped Mundy's chest, on his heart.
“How d’you do it?”
“How do I do what?”
“How d’you know me that well? Even my mum wouldn’t know what you just told me.” Mundy answered.
“Quite simply, because I am not your mother.” Lucien tapped the tip of Mundy’s nose and the Aussie smiled, making wrinkles appear on his nose and at the corner of his tired eyes. “I apply to be your lover.”
“You apply?” Mundy repeated with a chuckle. “It’s not a job or anythin’, eh?”
“Oh but you are wrong!” Lucien answered. “Look at my face that you disfigured a moment ago. Being your lover is a dangerous job, and a full time one!”
Mundy’s face beamed up with a smile.
“In that case, I’ll look at your application. You can leave it on my desk and I’ll call you back when I’ve looked at the hundreds of others, eh.”
“As if…” Lucien answered with a smirk.
“You think you’re the only one who looks up at me with those eyes of yours?” Mundy took his lover’s chin and stroked his cheek with his thumb. “Well, you’re wrong darl’. You’re not the only one to have some success, eh?”
“I do not doubt that, but you will find my application to be absolutely outstanding.”
“Ooh, is it, now?”
Lucien rolled on his side to straddle his lover’s lap.
“I can give you a presentation, show you my skills. You may also have heard of my reputation in the field.” Lucien wrapped his arms around Mundy’s neck.
“You arrogant Frenchie…” Mundy’s hands slid down his lover’s sides.
“And you love it.”
“I kinda do, yeah.”
“So, what do you think? Will you accept my key, and me?” Lucien asked.
“Get off of my lap one second.”
Lucien’s eyebrows jumped in surprise but he obeyed and stood up off of the sofa. Mundy stood up too and Lucien watched as his lover kicked his boots away and got closer to him again.
“Sorry about your nose. Don’t think I broke it though.”
“Non, you did not, even though it still hurts.”
“Oh, c’mere then, I’ll take care of ya tonight.” Mundy cupped his lover’s face and pulled it to himself. He rested his forehead on Lucien’s and whispered. “Listen, love…”
“Oui…?” Lucien closed his eyes and let himself relax. His eyebrows rose and arched high up on his brow. It felt like his entire body was between the rough and calloused palms of the scruffy hunter.
“Don’t scare me like that ever again, ok?” Mundy asked.
“I cannot promise anything. It was mildly entertaining to see your distress. Besides, I had never heard you declare your love for me.”
“Stop smirkin’, you sexy devil. Look at you, even with your eyes closed, you look smug.”
They both chuckled.
“Does that mean I have got the position?” Lucien asked.
“Hold on, darl’, we gotta see how well you can do on the job, eh?” Mundy’s hands slid down to Lucien’s slim waist. “What d’you say to a first night on the job, as a test, see if you can handle it, hm?”
“I have been handling you for months, mon loup…” Lucien answered and pushed himself to the tip of his toes to kiss his lover.
[my wolf]
“Yeah, but I never knew you loved me back. Now I gotta up my game with ya. C’mere!”
“Mundy!”
The Aussie swept him off the floor and carried him away to their bedroom.
“Hold on, Mundy?”
“Yeah?”
Lucien was in his lover’s arms in a position that had his insides burn with a delicious flame. He had his arms wrapped around Mundy's neck and his feet dangling off of the Aussie's arms.
“Je t’aime.”
“Love you too, gorgeous."
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Ooh - maybe like Peter doesn’t know Tony is a werewolf at first, but the Avengers do and keep Peter away on the nights of the full moon. Peter, maybe he’s recovering in the med bay, happens to be at the compound on the full moon and hears Tony howling. The others panic because when they check on Tony the chains are broken and they find Peter missing from the med bay. When they find Peter, he’s giving Tony scritches and Tony is acting like a big old puppy.
Now that’s what I’m talking about 👀👀
—————————————————————————————
Peter never slept very well in the med bay. He much preferred sleeping at home for obvious reasons, or even up in some guest room somewhere in the compound. But Mr. Stark had insisted he stay here, and while Peter could be very stubborn at times, this time he’d listened.
His injuries weren’t that bad, they’d heal in a matter of days, but Mr. Stark had said that it would be for his own peace of mind. How could Peter deny him that? So there he was, lying in a hospital bed that was significantly more comfortable than the ones in any other regular civilian hospital were, and yet he couldn’t sleep.
It probably had everything to do with the hospital bed and nothing to do with the fact that there was a full moon, which Peter could see from where he was lying, although sometimes he wondered if it did affect him a little. After all, the spiderbite had changed a lot about him. He wondered how spiders reacted to the full moon. Many animals did, after all.
At least the moon kept him company. Mr. Stark had stuck with him for a while, which had been really nice, but he was busy, too. Peter had asked him to stay but he’d said there was a lot of work to be done, and Peter knew that there was, there always was, and so he’d let him go even though the man seemed like all he wanted to do was stick around. What else could he have done?
So now all Peter could really entertain himself with was staring at the moon just beyond his window. It was fascinating how large it was, and how bright, how it bathed his entire room in this cool, bluish light.
He could see why werewolves in books and stories and movies were always obsessed with the moon.
Ugh, he should have asked for a book.
They hadn’t even left him his phone.
Peter yawned leisurely and stretched for as far as his body would allow it, letting his mind wander. It was quiet in the med bay and it had been a while since someone had checked on him so they would probably do so pretty soon. Peter hoped he’d be asleep by then, but he doubted he would be.
There was something eerie about the silence. You’d expect a hospital wing to brim with some kind of life, even at this hour. Maybe Peter had misinterpreted.
And maybe Peter was overthinking the whole full moon thing. Yeah, he was just overthinking it. Overthinking everything. He just needed to relax.
Peter took a deep breath in, and sighed it out slowly through his nose, eyes closing. He just had to do some breathing exercises. That was all. In, and out. In, and out. He’d fall asleep eventually. It was just like counting sheep, except counting breaths.
On the twenty-fifth breath, when Peter was finally starting to relax and doze off lightly, he jolted awake before his body could succumb.
There was a sound. Low and yet high, spine-chilling as it reached his ears, waking him up in an instant once more. He knew that he had a vivid imagination, but that wasn’t something that he could have imagined – even so close to actually falling asleep. It wasn’t a dream. It was real life.
And he was pretty sure that he just heard a wolf howl somewhere deep in the bowels of the Avengers compound.
.
“What?”
Steve was out of breath, standing in front of the intricate contraption they had created to keep Tony contained, but there was no Tony in sight.
They had all come running from their respective quarters when they had heard the howl, something that always meant there was something seriously wrong. And right now what was seriously wrong was that somehow, Tony had broken free of his restraints, and was undoubtedly wandering the halls of the compound.
Which shouldn’t have been a total disaster.
Except for the fact that Peter was in the med bay. And Natasha had just gotten word from the night nurse that the boy was missing from his bed.
“You’re kidding me,” Steve panted, burying his face in his hands for a moment. He took a deep breath and straightened up again, “We have to find them. Both of them. Let’s split up so we can cover more ground. Bruce, Rhodey, Wanda, you comb out the med bay. Clint, Nat and I will sweep the compound. Stay in touch, and stay together. You know what he’s like during full moon.”
And just like that, it was like they had been assigned a mission. They went to their respective starting points and started sweeping the building, checking every room, listening in to every sound. Steve’s team searched Tony’s penthouse first, because it would have made sense for him to be there. Then they started making their way down one floor at a time, leaving the lights off so as not to potentially spook the wolf.
They moved silently through room after room, only speaking to inform each other that yet another space was empty. No sign of Tony yet.
But when they stepped into the communal kitchen, they could hear the fleshy sound of chewing before they saw it.
From their vantage point, the three could see Tony’s hind legs on the floor, the rest of him hidden behind the kitchen island, his tail up and cautious. Next to it were a pair of bare legs. Peter’s legs, lying still as the chewing continued loudly, sloppily, making Steve raise the taser they had all equipped themselves with.
Steve realized this was the worst case scenario.
They always made sure to chain Tony up properly, make sure he was secure, and then they double checked that everyone else was safe as well. They knew that when Tony shifted he was overcome with an insatiable hunger that so far had seemed unquenchable.
And now Peter was lying there, on the ground, the tangy smell of blood getting worse the closer they got to the scene of the crime.
Clint and Natasha seemed to have caught on, too. From the corner of his eye Steve could see that Nat had her mouth covered with her hand, eyes wide as they slowly moved around the kitchen island to get close enough to tase Tony. Steve knew that she liked the kid more than she usually admitted.
Hell, so did Steve.
They rounded the object between them and the scene and Peter was lying on his side, something bloody and chewy in Tony’s maw, and Steve knew he had no choice but to tase him, hurt him, hopefully knock him out with the high voltage so that they could get him back and chain him up again and take care of Peter who might still be breathing if they were lucky—
When Peter lifted his head and propped it up against his hand.
“Hey guys! Look what I found wandering the halls! Did you guys know someone here kept a puppy?”
The group seemed to heave a collective sigh when Peter, who was clearly alive, beamed up at them.
“FRIDAY, lights on please,” Steve murmured, and the second they were bathed in light, Tony’s head lifted from where he’d been chewing a bloody steak, looking up as if Steve had disturbed him, pulling up his lip to snarl at the blond.
“No no, lights out please, thank you,” Peter said quickly, and reached out to pet his hand over the wolf’s large head in between his ears.
The team didn’t know what they were seeing. Couldn’t believe it. Tony immediately went docile, licking his chops, nuzzling Peter’s hand for a second, and then going back to eat his dinner. Clint cursed.
“He doesn’t much like the light. I don’t know why either. But he was very hungry so I gave him a steak. I hope nobody was gonna eat that. Um.” Peter gave a sheepish smile and a shrug.
One of their communication devices crackled quietly and Steve reached for it. Rhodey’s voice came over the receiver.
“You guys find Peter and Tony yet?”
Steve slowly lifted it to speak into it.
“We just did. Found both of them in the kitchen. And I think we’ve found a solution to the chain problem.”
The radio was silent for a moment before it crackled to life again.
“What do you mean? What’s the situation? Is the kid still alive?”
“He is. You should come see for yourself,” Steve said, and reattached the device to his belt.
Peter looked confused. He’d heard the conversation, of course, but didn’t understand. He didn’t understand why the team was out with walkies in the middle of the night apparently looking for Peter and Tony, and he didn’t understand why Steve said they’d found the both of them in the kitchen because as far as Peter was concerned there was no Tony in sight, and he also didn’t understand why they were looking at Peter like that. Should he not have given the dog the steak?
Steve caught Peter’s befuddled look and knew what it meant.
“That’s not a dog, Peter,” he explained slowly while Peter continued to put his hand through the wolf’s fur, even giving him a fat kiss on the head, which the wolf seemed to accept all too easily. Peter only looked more puzzled.
“Peter,” Natasha interjected gently, “That’s Tony.”
Suddenly it hit Peter like a truck. Full moon, howling, big dog walking around the med bay.
Werewolves.
And this absolutely stunning, big dog who had come into his hospital room snarling at the sight of a human until he caught a whiff of something and it immediately calmed him down to the point he was came trotting over to Peter’s bedside to lay his big head in the boy’s lap and lick at his hands and whine until Peter would pet him…
“Oh my god,” Peter breathed to the wolf, who was looking up at him with a kind of intelligence in his eyes that Peter hadn’t noticed before.
“You’re Mr. Stark.”
#starker#irondad and spiderson#tony stark#peter parker#peter parker/tony stark#werewolf au#aus#my fanfic#my writing#werewolf!tony#hmm yes big bad wolf uh huh sure#Anonymous#replies
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More G/t? More G/t!
Yes friends, acquaintances, and assorted cryptids, I bring you another piece of G/t fiction for your enjoyment! Sit back and relax!
Prologue
The Fae creature snapped their fingers, causing a scroll to appear in midair next to them. "I believe we had an agreement, human," they said, adjusting reading glasses that had been conjured from thin air.
"Yes, but-"
"And you broke it," they said flatly as they looked over the contract.
"There was no other way!" The human pleaded.
The Fae tsked as they hovered a foot off the ground, still perusing the scroll. "Did you even read the terms? Consider the consequences?"
Another attempt to defend their actions was silenced as the Fae continued. "You know what is going to happen, don't you?"
A sigh, and a silent nod was the only response.
The Fae gave a disapproving shake of their antlered head and snapped their fingers. They and the scroll vanished.
"You'll do well not to violate our contract further," the Fae's disembodied voice warned. "Steeper penalties await if you do."
An unspecified number of years later...
Sam panted as he ducked and dodged through the trees, his ears filled with the sounds of his fast-approaching pursuer. He'd been on a hike in the woods when he happened across a rather cantankerous bear, feeding on a bushful of berries. But now, it seemed it wanted a taste of meat.
In his panic, Sam had taken a wrong turn somewhere, and was now sprinting deeper into the forest.
His body screaming for oxygen, he paused for a moment, his head snapping back and forth looking for a place to hide. Suddenly he noticed through a bit of brush, the yawning mouth of a cave. With the bear quickly closing, Sam dashed toward the cave. Maybe he could find some rocks to make a last stand with.
He ran inside for about twenty yards, before skidding to a stop. Before him was a crevice in the rock floor, at least thirty feet deep and maybe fifteen feet wide, too wide to jump without a running start. Which he wasn't going to get.
Turning around, he saw the bear slowly closing, huffing and growling. It got within ten feet and raised up on its hind paws. At nearly eight feet tall, it towered over Sam, eyeing him hungrily before roaring in his face. Flinching, Sam's nose was filled with the hot stink of the bear's breath. He tried to pray as he awaited his demise. Our Father, who art in Heaven…
"WHO DISTURBS MY REST?!" An angry male voice boomed from the darkness of the cave.
The bear, its attention drawn, stared past Sam, into the cave.
"I SAID WHO DISTURBS ME?!" The voice demanded again, along with the sounds of fabric rustling and something big changing position.
Now thoroughly spooked, the bear dropped back to all fours and made a hasty retreat.
Momentarily relieved he wasn't going to be bear chow, Sam realized he now had a much more pressing matter to attend to. The sounds of heavy steps reached his ears and he slowly turned around. His eyes widened at what he saw and he could only whisper, "No…"
A hoof, cloven and the size of a Volkswagen, appeared from the darkness and thundered to a stop on the other side of the rock crevice. Then, to its right, a fur-covered knee touched down before being covered by some rough white cloth. Two massive hands, with fingers at least as long as Sam was tall and ending in some sort of dark-colored bony material, crashed down on both sides of the human.
Sam gulped. He didn't want to look up. He really didn't. But his eyes slowly went up and up, to stare into the face of the biggest, and angriest, bull that he'd ever seen.
The bull, a minotaur, Sam realized, glared down at the miniscule intruder, its- his- cold blue eyes watching, studying. The nostrils of his bovine nose, sporting a gold ring, flared as his breath washed over the tiny human.
"Why are you here?" The minotaur demanded in his deep gruff voice.
Sam gulped and tried to speak, but couldn't.
"I asked you a question, human," the giant bull snorted.
"I… I was chased. By a, a bear." Sam managed to squeak.
"Bear," the bull huffed as he continued to glare at the intruder.
"Y-yes sir. Chased me here."
The two were quiet for a few moments, just trying to take each other in.
"Gonna run?" the minotaur asked finally, still wearing a stern expression.
"Should I?"
"Everyone runs, so I'd say yes."
Sam took a half-step closer. "How come?"
The bull's eyes narrowed. "Are you dense? Everyone runs from monsters!"
Another half-step. "Well, I'm not."
The bull leaned closer. "You may be stupid, then."
"Or I don't think you're a monster," Sam replied with a hint of a smile.
Squinting at the strange human, the minotaur adjusted his position so he was sitting. "You're the strangest human I've encountered for quite some time." He adjusted the shoulder of what Sam now recognized as a toga. The bull calmly reached down and carefully grabbed the human around the waist with two bony-ended fingers and lifted him up to his face. "Well, since you refuse to leave the presence of a monster, I suppose introductions are in order," the bull sighed as he deposited the human into his palm. "My name is Rheneas, and this cave is my home."
Once he'd steadied himself in the middle of a giant hand, Sam looked up at Rheneas and smiled. "Neat name. What's it mean?"
"It's an old word that means 'waterfall'. I was born near a falls many years ago," Rheneas answered, before carefully nudging the human with a finger. "Now, what sort of neat name does my little intruder have?"
"Well, my name's Sam. Short for Samson," the human replied with a smile. "Mom wanted a good strong name."
The giant minotaur nodded. " 'And Samson said, With the jawbone of a donkey, heaps upon heaps, With the jawbone of a donkey, I have slain a thousand men.' " He gave Sam another gentle poke. "You don't have the appearance of someone who can perform such a feat, though. A thousand men might even be a bit much for a monster like me."
Sam leaned on Rheneas' hard-ended finger. "You're not a monster. A little bigger than most folks, but not a monster."
Rheneas snorted. "Perhaps you are blind as well," he mused. "Do you not see the great beast before you?"
"Yeah, I see you in front of me," Sam replied nonchalantly. "But I don't see a beast, or a monster. I see… Rheneas, a large and so far very interesting minotaur. Honestly, if you were a monster, you would've thrown me in a birdcage, or crushed me in your hand. Maybe eaten me as a snack."
"I have no birdcage, I don't want blood on my hand, and my teeth are not ideal for eating meat," Rheneas responded flatly.
"See?" Sam pressed. "More proof! If you were actually a monster, you wouldn't care!" He smiled victoriously. "You're gonna have to face facts, Rheneas. I don't think you're a monster, and I want to talk and get to know you better."
The giant opened his mouth to argue, but couldn't think of a good counter. He tried again, only to fail. He huffed, defeated. "Very well. It seems there is no ridding myself of you."
Sam opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by a crash of thunder. He turned around in Rheneas' palm to look outside. A storm had moved in as the pair talked, and rain was now coming down in sheets.
Sighing, Rheneas put his free hand on the floor. "Hold on, Samson. I'm going to stand up." With the human hanging on to his thumb, the giant slowly pushed himself to his hooves, before turning and making his way deeper into the cave.
@
"How long have you had this thing?" Sam asked as he tried to get both hands on the splinter buried near Rheneas' thumb.
"About three days. I've tried to dig it out but I can't get close enough, especially with my fingertips the way they are."
Sam nodded. "Yeah, wanted to ask about that. Okay, that's it, making some headway," he muttered as he got one hand under the wood fragment. "What are your fingertips made of?"
Rheneas drew a hissing breath as he felt the splinter move. "They're keratin, like my hooves. Can you hurry up? That kinda hurts."
Both hands now grasping the splinter, Sam nodded. "Here goes nothing to nowhere," he muttered as he pulled.
The splinter didn't move, but Rheneas flinched a bit.
Sam braced one foot against Rheneas' hand and squared his shoulders. "I said come outta there!" he growled as he pulled hard. He felt the giant flinch beneath his foot, but he kept pulling. Slowly, the sliver began to move, and Sam pulled harder. Grunting, he quickly adjusted his grip and gave another herculean yank. The splinter came out and Sam fell, landing on his back, looking up toward Rheneas.
The giant sighed with relief and looked down at Sam, smiling. "Thank you very much!" He grinned, his ears wiggling happily as he carefully slid a hand under Sam, helping the human to his feet. "That splinter has been bothering me, interrupting nearly every task I've had to perform with that hand." Rheneas sighed again and flexed his hand. "Ah, relief."
Sam tossed the stick aside. "Hey, no problem. Happy to help, big guy."
Rheneas sighed. "Well, since you have performed a kindness for me, I suppose I owe you something in return. Name it, and I'll do whatever I can to help."
Sam looked up at Rheneas, then at the ground, thinking. "Are there limits to this thing?" he asked, looking back up at the minotaur.
The bull rubbed the back of his neck. "Noo… well… not many," he finally conceded. "I may have to draw a line if you were to ask me to, say, attack your town and enslave its citizens, or raze a fortress. But no, there's not really a limit."
Turning back toward the mouth of the cave, Sam took a few steps across the stone platform that served as Rheneas' table. He stood quietly for a few moments. "Could you help me get back home?" he inquired finally. "After this storm passes, of course. Don't want you getting wet and sick."
Rheneas' cool blue eyes dropped. "I don't know about getting you all the way home, human. I've never left this forest since I was a boy- er, a calf-... a youngling." His ears drooped and he slumped down till his chin rested on his arms.
Sam turned back to the giant bull. "Never?"
"Never," Rheneas mumbled.
The human walked back to Rheneas. "I'm sorry to hear that. How long has it been?"
A shrug was his only response.
Hesitantly, Sam reached out with one hand toward the giant's face. Rheneas watched as the human's hand slowly moved closer, finally coming to rest on his forehead.
"You've been alone the whole time?" Sam asked quietly as he began to gently stroke Rheneas' face, from forehead to nose.
The giant nodded.
"I'm sorry, Rheneas," Sam softly said. "I'm sorry you've been alone for so long. This must be the longest conversation you've had in a long time, huh?" He continued gently petting the bull's face.
"Mm-hm," Rheneas rumbled. The human's soft tone and gentle touch were hypnotic, and something that the giant didn't realize he'd needed so desperately. Tears began to well up in his cool blue eyes, and he sniffled.
Sam looked into Rheneas' eye, before bringing up his other hand. He began to run circles in the giant's thick fur. How does that feel, Rheneas? That okay?"
The giant nodded. "It feels, *hic*, feels really g-good," he whimpered, tears threatening to fall.
"It's okay, buddy. Let it out, I won't think less of you," Sam soothed as he continued to massage.
Rheneas sniffled and whimpered, trying to maintain composure, until the dam finally broke. Being thought of as an equal, receiving help out of the kindness of another, the soft words and gentle touch… it was all too much for the giant, who couldn't remember the last time any of these things had happened.
Sam continued to massage, as well as whisper soothing words to the sobbing giant. "It's okay, I'm here for you. Go ahead, let it out, you're safe here…"
Finally, Rheneas' sobs subsided til they were reduced to heavy breaths. Slowly, he lifted his head. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and tear tracks streaked his fur.
Sam, with one hand on the giant's fur, slowly climbed over the chiseled-muscle arms and made his way to Rheneas' right eye. "Here, let's get that taken care of," he said softly, before removing his jacket and using it as a handkerchief, dabbing the giant's eye dry.
Rheneas sniffled and, with a growing smile, brought both hands up and gently held the human to his cheek in a nuzzle. "Thank you hum- er, Samson. Thank you Samson. This means so much, I could never tell you," he whispered.
Leaning into the nuzzle, Sam stroked the side of the giant's tear-stained face. "You deserve kindness, just like everyone else. Don't ever forget that, friend."
Friend. A happy tear rolled down Rheneas' cheek, and he laughed.
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Rules for the Universe
Backstory: Will was abusing suppressants to hide the fact that he was an omega because he believed himself to cursed. Gideon and Gabriel came and moved into the Institute and Gabriel figured out that Will wasn’t a beta like he was pretending to be. This is after the suppressants have fully left his system but a bit before he goes through his first heat. Prequels One and Two, for those interested.
Something made Gideon wake up. He wasn’t sure what, just that something had startled him awake. He was a light sleeper these days, so that he could protect his little brother (his pup his mind traitorously whispered) from anything, real or imagined.
And Gideon was proud to wake up so that he could defend Gabriel from his dreams if necessary, but for once, Gabriel was still sound asleep, curled into him and purring. If Gabriel wasn’t what had woken him up…
Gideon moved as little as possible, not wanting to wake Gabriel from a sound sleep when he was having good dreams for a change, but he wanted to see what was around them better, so that he could see what had woken him.
There, a noise by the door. Gideon turned himself over so that he could see what had caused it. When he saw what, or rather who, had caused him to wake, Gideon was surprised. Standing in the doorway, rocking back and forth on his feet anxiously was William Herondale.
Once Gideon got over his shock he examined Will more closely. He looked upset, and nervous, and he had an acrid scent of fear about him. And he looked terribly young in that moment, and reminded Gideon strongly of Gabriel when he would seek him out at night because he was afraid to be by himself when they still lived with their sorry excuse for a father.
Gabriel still wasn’t ready to sleep alone, wanting the security of his alpha to protect him. Gideon was happy to give that, he didn’t want Gabriel out of his sight either, wanting to keep him close so that he could be assured of his safety.
Will though, right now he looked lost, like he didn’t know what to do and he looked so terribly lonely that Gideon couldn’t help but want to fix it. No pup (because that’s certainly what he was at this moment) should ever have to look like that, and especially not an omega. Pups, and especially omega pups, needed affection and all the physical contact they desired, lest they fall ill.
“Will?” Gideon questioned softly, not wanting to spook the already unsettled pup, “Is something wrong, did you need something?" Gideon looked over him again, not spotting any injuries or cause for Will’s obvious distress.
Will still jumped slightly at the sound of his voice however. “It-It’s nothing.” Will anxiously stuttered, a scent that spoke of loneliness wafted off of him. “I’m sorry for disturbing you.” Will glanced at Gabriel, who was still asleep and not showing any signs of waking, even as his nose twitched in response to the scents around him. “I’ll go now.”
Will made to leave when Gideon spoke up again. “Wait, Will, don’t leave. You want Gabriel, right?” Will turned around and nodded slowly, confusion wafting off of him. “Then just wait for a moment while I wake him up, yes? I’m not mad at you, I promise.” Will nodded slowly, an unsure look upon his face.
Gideon realized that Will was unlikely to come further into the room without any input from Gabriel, as skittish as he had been recently, which the fact that he had even come into the room while Gideon was in it spoke greatly about how disturbed he truly was, making Gideon worry more.
Gideon lightly shook Gabriel awake, saying his name a few times until he woke up. Gabriel nuzzled into him, “Gide’n? Whassamatter?”
“I think you have a visitor.” Gideon pointed to Will who was standing in the doorway still and looked about one second from rabbiting away. Gabriel blinked rapidly before focusing his gaze on Will. Then he shocked Gideon by groaning quietly.
“Really Will?” He whispered under his breath before getting up and out of the nest that he had built in Gideon’s bed. Gabriel made his way over to Will where he grabbed him by the hand and dragged over to the bed. “In.” He ordered, which had Gideon raising an eyebrow. He hadn’t heard Gabriel sound that confident or commanding since before Benedict had started bringing “tutors” in. Apparently having to help Will with all the changes lately was good for him.
Will was still standing there, looking uncertain when Gabriel moved past him into his nest and then yanked Will’s arm, pulling him into it as well. Once Will was fully sitting in his nest Gabriel wrapped himself around Will, making sure that Will’s head was tightly tucked into his shoulder, nuzzling his neck, to calm him down.
Gideon chose to just let them get situated, deciding that Gabriel would let him know what to do, and not wanting to upset Will more, knowing that the omega’s problems with seeking Gabriel out likely stemmed from the fact that he, an alpha who wasn’t strictly part of Will’s pack, was in the room. He had been skittish since the suppressants had worn off and hadn’t gone through a heat yet, although Gideon suspected that it would be within the next few days judging by the way he was acting.
He heard them whispering back and forth, about why Will hadn’t sought out Charlotte, as she was his alpha, and about what had Will spooked enough to leave his room. Apparently Charlotte and Henry were busy and Will hadn’t wanted to disturb them especially since he didn’t know what was wrong either, and didn’t want them to think that he was acting childish.
He could sense that Will was calming down now, his scent had lost the twinge of fear and he seemed much happier for being held by Gabriel. It appeared that Gabriel was thinking along similar lines, as he asked “Would you feel better with someone else in your nest with you?”
Will mumbled into Gabriel’s neck, sounding half asleep already. “What nest? Do-“ He yawned, breaking off briefly. “Don’t have one.” He nuzzled further into Gabriel, relaxing as he got closer to falling asleep.
No wonder he couldn’t sleep Gideon thought, dismayed. He would never feel safe enough to sleep comfortably without one. Gideon had learned everything he could about omegas once Gabriel was born, so that he could make sure that his little brother would have everything he needed, especially as their father had been furious that Gabriel was an omega and he didn’t trust Benedict to see to his needs.
Gabriel rolled his eyes, not trusting himself to speak. “Of course you don’t.” He couldn’t hold himself back from saying. He eyed Will who was practically in the grip of Morpheus already. “Well, we’ll fix that tomorrow.” He chose not to say anything further, and simply tugged a blanket over them, while leaning back into Gideon, before closing his eyes.
Gideon looked at the two pups he had in his arms, one, his, fully in them, and the other, just slightly so. Will might not be his in the way Gabriel was, and he might not be hurt in the same way, but he was going to need delicate handling all the same. And since his pup, his little brother, obviously cared about Will on some level, that meant Gideon did too.
#will herondale#gideon lightwood#gabriel lightwood#tid#the infernal devices#infernal devices#tsc#the shadowhunter chronicles#shadowhunter chronicles#abo dynamics#alpha/beta/omega verse
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A part 3 to Katsuki’s nightmare. Click for Part 1 and Part 2
After that weird outburst of laughter, Todoroki starts avoiding him. Katsuki can't even blame the guy, considering how out of character that was for him. The most likely culprit for it would be that mysterious lover of his. Katsuki blames giddiness over moving in together or some shit.
He doesn’t want anything to do with that so he ignores it like he does everything else he can’t be bothered with, Todoroki keeps shying away from him, and Kuri is happily purring on his chest from time to time.
It all comes crashing down on him when Midoriya accosts him on a Friday evening while he’s making his way back home. The guy just so happened to see him and decided to stick around, apparently.
And he keeps making small talk as if Katsuki is interested in his opinion of the weather or whether he’s eaten or not. He talks and talks, without any input from Katsuki.
“Shut up,” Katsuki finally speaks up, not able to hold out any longer. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Oh, thank god,” Midoriya says, apparently sheepish now, when he was talking a mile a minute just two seconds ago. “I was afraid you were ignoring me.”
“It’s exactly what I was doing,” Katsuki grits out but starts walking again. “Stop following me. What are you, a stalker?”
“Actually,” Midoriya starts and falls silent just as suddenly. Katsuki can feel a headache coming. Anything the ass does only fuels Katsuki’s bad opinion of him.
“Spit it out. You had no problem talking my ear off ‘till just now, didn’t you?”
“Right,” Midoriya mutters, hurrying to fall into step with him. Katsuki notes with satisfaction that he’s got a few inches on Midoriya. It’s not like the man is small, it’s just that Katsuki and Todoroki are on the rather tall end of the spectrum. He’s grown quite a bit since high school.
He hates how Todoroki is just a smidgen taller than him but that’s easy to ignore, when Todoroki looks like a damn bean sprout and Katsuki prides himself in a healthy workout routine.
“I was wondering if Shouto talked to you yet…” Midoriya finally spills and Katsuki immediately regrets asking.
“No,” he says.
“Right, I thought so-”
“That’s not what I fucking meant.” Katsuki turns on him which causes Midoriya to fall back a step. Looking down on him, Katsuki declares, “I ain’t moving in with some asshole who can’t be bothered to name his damn cat.”
��Wha?” Midoriya splutters, flushing. Then, before Katsuki can truly go off on him, Midoriya holds up a hand and manages to gain space without pushing him away. “No!”
“No, what?” Katsuki asks, annoyed that he fell back that one step. “No, you aren’t a horrible asshole or no you didn’t leave Kuri with the most irresponsible human plant ever?”
“I named her. I just wasn’t around to call her by her name! I found her on the night before my business trip and had no choice but to leave her with Shouto since we were out having dinner together. And then Shouto told me you named her, too!”
“The fuck?” Katsuki asks, frowning. He’s starting to get a better picture of the situation but it doesn’t make him any happier.
“She was abandoned and it was raining. I was a little drunk, I must admit, but I couldn’t leave her alone and my apartment doesn’t allow pets, not to mention that I had a business trip overseas the next day. Shouto agreed to look after her ‘cause I couldn't make other arrangements on such short notice.” After vomiting all that out, Midoriya takes a deep breath and narrows his eyes back at Katsuki. “I appreciate all you did for Ki- Kuri, I do. But you can’t ju-”
“What did you name her?” Katsuki interrupts him.
“What?” Midoriya asks, bewildered.
“You said you named her. What?”
“I want you to know, I named her first,” Midoriya says and deflates with it. “I named her the day after I found her and Shouto knew, actually. I texted him.”
Of course his damn roommate knew. He probably forgot ‘cause he never bothered to interact with Kuri past the feeding and cleaning of the litter box. And apparently a visit to the vet.
“Just spill already.”
“Kiri.”
“Kiri?”
“Yeah.”
“You sure it’s not Kuri.”
“I named her first,” Midoriya insists and starts walking again. “Kiri because she’s gray and the first thing that came to mind was fog.”
Katsuki snorts, but follows anyway. “Kuri is better. And she reacts to it.” It’s his win. Also Kiri reminds him too much of Kirishima. He can’t associate it with Kuri. It might also be another reason why Todoroki didn’t bother to call her that.
“You won’t know if she will react to Kiri or not, until you try calling her that.”
“Hah. We can try right now and see you fail miserably.”
“I saved her. She will react to anything I call her.”
Katsuki snorts and finally overtakes Midoriya, to lead the way to his apartment. “She saw you for all of a night. I looked after her for close to three months. The only one she will play favourites with is me.” Which is true, since Kuri still hates Todoroki.
Feeling his imminent victory, Katsuki doesn’t even bother getting angry about Midoriya’s obvious bait. The loser was aiming to end up at his apartment from the beginning but Katsuki could care less. Once he proves his point, he will pawn Midoriya off to Todoroki.
He’s grinning for the rest of their short trip and once he unlocks the door and bends to take his shoes off, he can hear the cautious steps coming towards them. His grin only grows wilder when, after making sure that it’s not Todoroki at the door, Kuri comes to greet him with a very soft mewl and an obvious invitation for scratches.
So, Katsuki reaches out to give her these scratches as a reward for the sweet victory she will give him. “Hey there, Kuri.”
When he turns around to boast about it, he stops short at the soft look in Midoriya’s eyes and the small smile on his face. “She looks healthy and happy,” he observes.
Katsuki feels an itch at the back of his neck, his grin falling off his face. He leaves Kuri at the door to stare at Midoriya as he stomps to his room and discards his bag on the ground. “Of course, she is. Who the fuck is looking after her, Todoroki?” Katsuki mutters, changing into comfortable clothes before he goes to wash his hands.
He’s not good with shit like that, alright.
When he’s done settling in, he realizes that Midoriya and Kuri are still staring at each other in the hallway. “Move your ass in and close the door,” Katsuki tells him, annoyed at the whole situation. Someone just had to ruin the mood.
“Right, sorry,” Midoriya whispers, trying not to spook the cat but there is nothing to spook.
“Kuri,” Katsuki calls out, finally feeling a sense of satisfaction again when her right ear twitches before she turns and follows him into the living room. He can feel Midoriya’s eyes on them as they leave him standing there.
By the time Midoriya joins them in the living room, Katsuki has settled in with Kuri curled up on his lap. “Go on. Try and fail,” he goads, leaning back and stretching his arms out.
Midoriya only spares him a glare before he sighs and crouches down, leaning on the balls of his feet in front of Katsuki, to be at eye level with her. “Hello there,” he starts but doesn’t get a response.
Katsuki doesn’t bother holding back a grin. That’s a good girl for ya.
“Remember me?” Midoriya tries, leaning farther forward and slowly reaching a hand out. “Hey,” he whispers before he says, softly, “Kiri.”
Kuri looks up at that just as the front door slams shut, spooking Kuri who then jumps up and off Katsuki’s lap to step on Midoriya’s head and fall gracefully onto the ground before disappearing. Midoriya loses balance and falls forward into Katsuki’s lap before Katsuki can stop him and Todoroki appears at the entrance to the living room just as Katsuki manages to get a hold of Midoriya’s shoulders.
Todoroki stares at them. Midoriya manages to lift his face out of Katsuki’s lap and Katsuki marvels at the expression of distaste on Todoroki’s face. At the end of this shitshow, he will at least remember that there are things that Todoroki dislikes other than his father.
“Yo,” he calls out because he can’t be bothered to save this train wreck. He’s zen like that. This is the universe telling him he can’t win it all. Life’s gotta be fair and hand him shit like this every now and then.
“Shouto,” Midoriya greets in a strangled voice.
Todoroki falls back into his plant routine and wipes the expression off his face. “Midoriya,” he greets back before his eyes meet Katsuki’s. “I didn’t mean to disturb.” And then he takes off down the hallway to his room.
“Shouto, wait!” Midoriya calls out, a hand on Katsuki’s thigh to push himself up. Only his damn hand slips and Midoriya falls, sliding his hand right down and crushing it into Katsuki’s crotch.
Katsuki flinches so hard he sees black for a second before the pain really sets in and he rolls down the couch, hand protecting his crotch from anymore assault. He thinks Midoriya screams or maybe that’s him but the pain is too deafening to make sure. He feels like a raw nerve suddenly exposed and assaulted.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was trying to get up. Are you alright? Need me to call an ambulance?” Midoriya mutters with fluttering hands, taking a step closer and then back again. Katsuki would laugh at his stupid dance but the pain is real. He fucking hurts so bad he wants to blow Midoriya up to show him just how fucking bad.
Again he laments the fact that he can’t magically blow shit up.
His own private hell only gets worse when Todoroki comes back into the living room and frowns at them. He stares at Katsuki before looking at Midoriya who is still apologizing and Katsuki just knows that whatever the fuck Todoroki’s about to say will make his brain hurt but the real pain in his dick stops him from stopping Todoroki.
“Did you bite it?” Todoroki asks Midoriya.
Katsuki screams.
part 4
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LoL Chapter 34- Leyline
Masterpost
A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)
The hermits rush to save Grian from the precipice of death, and discover the locations of their next great fight.
Warning: Mentions of blood, wounds, death
______________________________
Hypno runs his finger along the map. “We noticed it here, by the Midnight harbor. The ground was all…”
Scar takes up the mantle. If there’s one person who knows dirt and landscaping, it’s him. “I saw that the grass was wilted, just a little bit off color from the rest of the area. At first i thought maybe it was just a ditch or something, but it was too perfect a line to be natural.”
“Scar and his dirt.” Cub chuckles. His fellow convex knows about soil and land better than anyone. It’s how he became such a natural S-Class.
“Yeah, he ate it too.” Hypno shudders.
“It didn’t taste right, it didn’t feel right. The ground I mean. It was all dry and crumbled on my tongue.” Scar ignores Hypno’s shaking head, focused on remembering what he, Beef, and Hypno had seen. Trying not to get distracted and lose his train of thought. “I followed the line, and it led straight to-”
Lightning crackled through the sky, interrupting Scar mid sentence and sending all of the hermits skittering under the tree. But not a cloud is in sight, the blue unmarred by anything except sunlight. Xisuma is the first to check the horizon, to watch for a husk storm or impending invasion. Nothing there either.
A wave crashes up against the hill, surging over sand and grass. From the sea, four figures appear. Beef transforms into a massive, beastly bull, snorting and ready to charge whoever dares disturb the hermits. Hypno and Xisuma summon their magic, while Scar is still getting over his spooked stumble.
The strangers run past the guild hall, running directly into the village half of Eremita. Beef takes off after them, chasing the red fabric that quivers in the wind. He lowers his horns, his speed buffeting his brown fur. Intense, tunnel vision only for the angry, vibrant color. Even ignoring the splatters of red on the dirt and grass. Beef is mere inches away from goring the four, til something constricts around one of his horns and pulls.
“Stop, Beef!” Hypno calls, digging his shoes into the ground and pulling the lasso taut. “It’s our friends, look!”
Beef blinks, taking a deep breath through his snout and blinking back the feral mindset his form dares to take up. Indeed, xB stands between Beef and the other three. Iskall and Mumbo are soaking wet, continuing without the kipling. And in their arms is Grian, limp and unresponsive. It was his cloak that enticed Beef into charging. The bright red of the fabric mixes with the dark stains of blood.
The taurus mage returns to his human form. “What’s going on?”
“Grian’s hurt. Real bad.” xB looks over his shoulder, waiting until the door to the infirmary shuts tight. Xisuma races after, grabbing Joe and Wels. “They called for me to help them cross the sea. We lost him for a few minutes on the way here.”
Hypno, xB, and Beef watch the other hermits scurry across the island. They were a family, each and every one of them willing to do whatever it takes to help the others. Beef’s voice hitches as he speaks. “L-lost him? Like… you misplaced him, right? What do you mean lost him? He couldn’t have… he didn’t die, right?”
xB’s silence is answer enough. Hypno pulls his hand through his hair, running across the black material that keeps wayward locks from his face. “For being our guild’s only healer, he sure knows how to get himself in harm’s way.”
“Maybe that’s how he keeps the rest of us safe.” Beef follows after TFC, joining the other hermits in the crowded infirmary. Almost every hermit is in the tiny space, crowding in to try and help stabilize Grian.
“-killed us. Dolios ambushed us a-and killed Iskall and me.” Mumbo’s stammering cuts through the orders coming from Wels, Joe, and Ren.
“And then Grian used his archangel aura to revive us.” Iskall adds. “He was already so hurt, all I remember is waking up and seeing him resurrect Mumbo. Then pass out.”
Everything the hermits were talking about before has been abandoned. Scar’s discovery is the last thing on their mind. Right now, all they can focus on is keeping Grian alive. Ren mimics Grian’s magic, hands glowing with light, and gets to work. Healing the wounds, both internal and external. Wels casts a healing buff, aiding Grian’s body in the process, and Joe writes just about every medical supply the hermits could ever need.
Xisuma filters out the hermits, until it’s just the necessary bodies filling the small infirmary. TFC, Xisuma, Iskall, Mumbo, and the three that were fighting to keep Grian from slipping away.
And Scar. He sits in the chair beside Grian’s bed, leg bouncing as he tries to understand what Iskall and Mumbo told him. “Dolios had another crystal? He was using it against you guys?”
“He lured us in, and attacked us. He was there. He didn’t even flinch at killing.” Mumbo shakes his head.
“He’s a bastard, and a mega one at that.” Iskall adds. Silence falls over the infirmary, only the sound of Grian’s healing, his shallow breath filling the air between the hermits.
“Did he mention how he corrupted that crystal? Why?” Scar finally whispers, not taking his eyes off Ren’s glowing hands. He knows that Grian’s healing magic isn’t easy. It’s painful, forcing the body to heal itself. The fact that Grian isn’t even moving worries him.
“He said it took him weeks to make that thing.” Iskall answers, since Mumbo is too preoccupied watching the procedure. His teeth worry his lip, making the mustache dance on his face. He just wants his friend to be okay. “And...and he said something about a- a creation? That he needed the power for him and his creation.”
Scar’s brows furrow, deep in thought. Piecing together all the parts of the story. It’s like he’s reading a book in random order, finding scraps of the tale and gluing them to make one full line. “The crystals are sending the stolen magic somewhere. They can’t be holding that much power, they’re like...like…”
“Like redstone redstone torches.” Mumbo breathes, eyes lighting up. “So there has to be something it’s powering.”
“And that line of dirt and grass, I think it’s got something to do with the stolen magic. It’s a circuit. A leyline of magic.” Scar crashes backwards in his chair, rolling out and slamming the door out of it’s frame. He returns a second later, holding the map. He lays the parchment over Grian’s legs. It’s not like he’s moving anytime soon anyway.
“Leylines? Like what the ancient ones used?” Joe picks his head up from battling a roll of gauze. Leylines haven’t been used in eons. No one knows how to tap into their energy. It was magic lost with the ancient civilization, pre-Lairyon.
“Not exact leylines, but more… artificial ones, I guess. Hand me some charcoal.” Xisuma pulls a pencil from his pockets. Always prepared. Scar snatches the pencil, and begins to draw across the map. Straight lines connecting crystals and husk storms. The more lines that Scar adds, the more apparent that his crazy, wild line of thinking becomes. Lines begin to connect, three hotspots appear.
“The evernight forest.” Ren breathes, hands drifting back from Grian’s body.
Scar ignores the whisper, continuing with his work. Another hotspot rises from the straight lines, this time on the other side of the kingdom. TFC shakes his head, as if it was obvious. “The Crystal Mines, of course.”
One final place, and Xisuma growls from beneath his mask as the lines intersect, right in the broken heart island that is nestled within Lairyon’s moon-shaped continent. “Heartbreak Trench.”
Scar shakes his head. “The power being stolen by those crystals has to be going to these places. Routing power to these for Dolios to use.”
“What does he need all of that power for? What could he be using it for?” Iskall looks across the map, noticing something else. “It’s in three corners of Lairyon. North, east, and south. Does that mean there’s one to the west as well?”
Xisuma traces the lines, but they lead to everywhere and anywhere within the western hemisphere of lairyon. “If there is one, we don’t know where it is. For now, we should go on what we know. We should go in search of these hotspots, follow the leylines.”
“Sounds like a fun new adventure.” All of the hermits present look down, a weak, aching voice joining the conversation. “Where are we going next?”
Grian is awake, wincing with only one eye open. Iskall and Mumbo are hovering over him, while Grian observes the white bandages that cross over his body, wrap around his arms. He looks around for his shirt and cloak, relieved to find them in decent condition. Otherwise, BDubs is going to have another sewing job.
Scar hugs his friend tight, until Grian is practically squeaking from the pain and pressure. “So good to have you back among the living, my man. No dark mage can hold you down for long.”
“If it means giving Dolios a taste of his own medicine after our battle, I’m in.” Grian smiles, already attempting to sit up. Ready to get back to saving the world. “So…. what wild adventure waits for us now?”
#hermitcraft#light of lairyon#lol#hermitblr#hermitcraft fanfic#hermitcraft au#hermit wizards#wizard au#wizard hermits#wizard grian#wizard mumbo#wizard iskall#wizard scar#wizard ren#wizard hypno#wizard xb#wizard beef#grianmc#mumbo jumbo#iskall85#gtwscar#rendog#hypnotizd#xbcrafted#vintagebeef
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Nightmare
Request from Anon: I’ve been suffering really bad dreams and nightmares that are leaving me shaken the next day and all. And basically, I would really like and appreciate Ezekiel comfort post these dreams. He doesn’t know what the dreams are, so possibly he feels angry and sad on behalf of the s/o when she reveals the truth. The dream topic is quite triggering (bluntly, it’s sexual assault).
If I keep tagging you and you’re not interested or you’d like to be tagged; please let me know!
MASTERLIST
Translations:
Eres mia y yo soy tuya -- You are mine & I am yours.
Siempre.Yo también mi amor. Yo también. -- Always, me too my love. Me too.
Ezekiel Reyes (Ez) x Reader
Word Count:
Warnings: TRIGGERING TOPIC, extensive mention of sexual assault, language, angst, mention of self-hatred. PLEASE don’t read any further if this is upsetting in any manner or form to you!!
******************************************************
---FLASHBACK---
It was always the same nightmare, the same abandoned alleyway, and the exact same strange man following her for the last ten minutes. She’d just left Lettie’s surprise birthday. Nothing could’ve wiped the smile off her face that day, unbeknownst to Y/N. Her heart accelerated uncertain of what to do next as her feet sprinted a second faster. Her skin tinged with heat; her eyes dilated in trepidation. She remembered that disturbing night like the back of her hand, never forgetting a spare detail. Nausea trounced through Y/N as she turned the next street corner.
Her vision soon blurred into shapeless blobs the nearer Y/N traveled home but the pitter patter of blatant footsteps haunted her. It was the world’s fucked adaptation of Groundhog’s Day dooming Y/N to repeat her horrid deliriums. Of course, details change a time or two but never enough to ease her panicked heart. Her own screams troubled her subconscious.
With her body aching for rest and her mind preoccupied elsewhere, Y/N begged for one peaceful night of sleep. But when her eyelids shut, another tale came to life lurking beneath the shadows. She never knew his name; the asshole who so vehemently manhandled her in a very public and humiliating tactic.
Her purple nails slashed ferociously at his skin imprinting shallow cuts against his shaggy suntanned skin. His grotesquely bulky hand gripped her neck temporarily blocking her airways, lifting Y/N momentary levitating. Fuck, fuck, fuck, Nooo. Rapid sobs clawed at her throat in a forceful manner. She gawked in horror as he devoured her every inch by creepy inch.
A predator claiming his kill. She’d loathed the sickening grin playing on his edge of his lips until he smashed the back of her head against the red-bricked wall. An unwillingly imprint stamped in her disturbing memory.
This time her vision embarked into dusky darkness similar to that of a curtain collapsing. Black spots prickled her advantageous points of her sight. Goosebumps trickled down her arms in response to the howling wind hitching her dress dangerously high. His callused fingers rubbed harshly stroking the outside of her lace underwear. Once the shock deteriorated, Y/N glowered blankly at the devilish black irises. A burst of energy tingled the tip of her fingers migrating within her muscles and bones protesting a final shout of defiance. Her ears resonated tortuously, her voice reverberated from her windpipe, and her knee left the ground in haste connecting perfectly with his groin.
“Ooof, you fuck---ing bitch.” The man coughed violently falling to the paved cement.
She planted her hands trivially atop his chest pushing with every ounce of strength thrusting him away from her.
Y/N gritted in pure fury. “Fucking asshole!”
Without a second glance Y/N ran, she sprinted until approaching Lindo’s ice cream parlor two three away. She’d never been so thankful for high school cross country in her entire life. Replaying her phone call to Ez overwhelmed her countless times a day, listening to the spooked man on the other end. The only man she’d grown to trust since the incident. It was also a call Ez couldn’t erase from his head listening to the dead tone. Never in a million years did Ez conjure hearing her disconnected tone. He found her easily enough sitting on the plastic chair near the window.
Her back hunched sitting far from human contact. Still, the moonlight reflected off her in the most radiant of ways. Effortlessly magnificent. The bell hummed as the door closed behind Ez. Y/N didn’t look up until two brown boots met her penetrating stare. The rest was history. Ezekiel was more committed and in love with her than ever. He placed a kiss on her forehead resting his chin on her head. There was no hiding the flinching shudder that overtook her before Y/N leaned into his touch.; calming and familiar. He brought her into his tattooed arms, his comforting fingers ran along her spine. He’d never hated silence so much than in that very moment.
---PRESENT---
Ez awoke from his slumber when Y/N started to mumble incoherently, her body whipped back and forth riddled with unreleased anxiety. Perspiration glistened along her exposed skin falling into droplets on their indigo/cobalt sheets. Her eyeballs bounced around her shut lids further worrying Ez. His left hand gently shook her arm hoping to stir, to throw him a damn sign, anything to know she was okay. Her nightmares were becoming a nightly occurrence. Just like lightening, Y/N bolted up chest heaving for fresh air. Her eyes scanned their room grasping she was home, with Ez. She whimpered burying her face into his neck. Wet streaks shot down his neck as tears specked her cheeks.
“Baby, Y/N; can you hear me?”
Y/N continued to glare straight refusing to glance at the angel by her side. Her room shifted into familiarity exhaling boisterously. Blood pressure returned to normal levels allowing her a moment of vital clarity.
A meek ‘Yes’ stumbled from her quiet lips.
“What’s wrong, Y/N? What’s eating at you baby girl?”
To this day, Y/N never mentioned what happened that night, the assault. Whether it was shame or humility, Y/N was still working through the motions. Past experiences taught her to maintain an open heart to healing but the impenetrable wall inside stopped her. obviously so, he knew something was up when he picked her up, but he never asked any questions. Shortly after they became lovers, their friendship strengthened far greater than either prepared for.
Soon, they became inseparable entangled in each other’s lives, and they were simply happy. Y/N was a hard book to crack, keeping her emotions in check, embracing rational thinking for any and all decisions. She was the only other woman to beat his GPA, challenge his testimonies, and explode into contagious laughter at the drop of a hat. Falling in love with Y/N was the easiest decision Ez made in the last ten years.
“I’m here. I’m here” chanted repeatedly, a whisper in the calm of night.
“Almost a year and a half ago…. I—” Y/N shuttered as her courage began to waver.
Ez cupped her face bringing them to eye level. His amber orbs calmed her, oozing protection and unconditional love.
“Go on…or well, don’t? The choice is completely yours.” Internally, his blood boiled with concern. Y/N was the bravest girl he’d ever encountered, it wasn’t like her to stay hush hush. Ezekiel swore he’d kill whoever scared the living shit out of her, to the bastard who rattled her bones. And, he definitely wasn’t a man to fall back on his promises.
Y/N’s rolled her eyes at his cuteness, Ez was the ying to her to yang. She’d never trusted someone the way she treated Ezekiel.
“I was aa-a-attacked. After Lettie’s 18th bday.”
Ez ripped the sheet from his body standing up, quickly pacing. How the fuck did he let this happen? Why hadn’t she opened up to him earlier? Question after question poked at his fragile ego breaking him all the while enraging him. Y/N scooted to his side engulfing into his fading heat. She remained quiet sulking in the suffocating silence of the room. Ezekiel stayed speechless.
“Don’t blame yourself, E.” Y/N quipped. “I know that look Ezekiel Reyes…” a hint of a smirk came out of the darkness.
“Blame myself? Of course, I do! I’m fucking furious!” His voice broke into heart shredding quakes; “I wasn’t there to protect you. The one thing I promised to fucking do. I’m so sorry, so sorry querida.”
“He didn’t—he almost raped me but didn’t. I kicked him in the balls and he dropped. If it hadn’t been for those few additional seconds, I’d be a goner. And that’s terrifying.”
Ez sat on the mattress, his knees brushing hers, his hand guided to the outskirts of her thigh squeezing lightly.
“If anything were to happen to you…I—I refuse to think about a life that doesn’t involve you. That fucking prick had the audacity to disrespect the Mayans unknowing of his repercussions. Did you recognize him? Any distinguishing features?”
“Not really… Caucasian with hideous gelled tips? Breath reeked of barbecue and he smelt of pleather and whiskey. Hideous snake tattoo draped on his forearm. He followed me from the restaurant. He was watching, waiting to get me alone. I’m just ...dealing with it. Finally getting around to the processing bit and it’s scary. This shit’s complicated and I didn’t want you think I was this weakling. So, I buried it so deep within me that it’s beginning to eat away at me edging closer to the surface.”
Ez leaned in finding her lips with ease kissing her with fervor. They stayed like that a few kisses longer before faintly parting. The space between them was minimal but enough to be grateful for.
“You are the opposite of weak. In fact, you’re the most determined and brilliant person I’ve ever laid eyes on. There is only one Y/N for me and I will stand diligently alongside her for as long as she’ll have me.”
“I love you, Reyes. Eres mia y yo soy tuya. Siempre.”
“Yo también mi amor. Yo también”
Ez and Y/N understood the difficult road ahead of them, Y/N’s agonizing memories, but he was proud of her. Proud of the woman who took a stand and fought like hell, choosing to share the comfortable pieces of her past life.
Her tone excluded downhearted sadness; “I’m sorry for coming in and fucking up your life.”
“Stop that. Stop right there. Goodness can be found sometimes in the middle of hell.”
Discreet snores told Ez she’d long fallen asleep. He laid them down holding her determinedly. Y/N cuddled into his warmth nuzzling his shoulder sheepishly sighing. His mahogany eyes grew heavy joining Y/N in a serene slumber. The crickets chirped at the summer’s heat worshiping the moon. The fire blazing in her dark and injured heart seemingly glowed around them like a moth a flame. To be alive at all is to have scars. But to love openly regardless of said scars; now that, that was life’s truest miracle.
~~~~~~~~
Tags: @ifoundmyhappythought @angelreyesgirl89 @carlaangel86 @imagineredwood @mayans-mc @reaperwalking @prospectfandom @emmaveale123 @peaky-marvel @kind-wolf @scorpio4dayzzz @starrynite7114 @breanime @whyisgmora @thegirlwhowritesfics @star017 @threeminutesoflife @gemini0410 @ly-canthrope
#mayans mc#mayans#my writing#ez x reader#ez reyes x reader#ezekiel x reader#ezekiel reyes x reader#fx#mayans imagine#mayans drabble#request#anon#mayans x reader#mayans mc x reader#angst#fanfiction#fanfic#ez reyes#ezekiel reyes
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Why being permabanned from the JCF was one of the best things that could have happened to me
Ever since TFA I’ve been contributing to SW forums, because it’s interesting to see other’s opinions and also a source of information. Naturally not everyone agrees with you, so I’ve often crossed verbal swords. I quit one forum after being ‘warned’ for defending myself against a Kylo hater rather than reporting him; largely because I’ve never liked the idea of reporting anyone...it just isn’t me. I’d rather stand up to them instead.
Everyone is entitled to like or dislike a fictional character or ship, and entitled to argue the point. But I do not think I have ever come across such toxic hatred for a fictional character and those who like him as I have on the Jedi Council Forums.
I have been accused of ‘sexism’ for saying I didn’t like the way TROS ended with Rey as a perennial virgin( ironically I personally am, and likely to stay that way as I’m asexual...) because I found it unnatural (including myself in that) as Rey had shown a deep desire for family and children. By having her embrace the tired old ‘space monk’ code of the Jedi she is forever denying herself that. I have had the weary old ‘promoting the sexual abuse of women’ rubbish aimed at me because I was a reylo - until they destroyed Rey and reimagined her as a horrible judgemental prig. All this I’ve experienced before so I’m used to it...but what I really find disturbing is the attitude of Finn fans. And two Finn fans in particular.
I’ll call them A & J. Both are women. One confirmed white, not confirmed by the other. And their behaviour towards anyone who likes Kylo - even those who aren’t reylos - is nothing short of bullying.
A is a huge Leia fan. If you have the audacity to point out that the character was a neglectful mother, which Carrie herself confirmed (’ I never should have sent him away’; Leia’s own words) then immediately A accuses you of rampant sexism, and ‘how DARE you ‘demonise’ Leia like that!’
You are then attacked for saying a mother should not have a career (I never said that) and that Kylo was an ‘overprivileged brat’ who deserved ‘everything he got’ for the way he treated his ‘wonderful, heroic parents.’
A has chosen to ignore the fact that during the promotion for TFA, the cast actually stated that Han and Leia were less than stellar parents. Heroes, unfortunately, often are. Leia was focusing on the rebuilding of the Republic and Han was uncomfortable around his son because he was FS. Neither Harrison or Carrie, both parents themselves, were unhappy with this. It’s stated in several ‘canon’ sources. Which A has chosen to ignore, insisting that Bloodline pointed out Kylo as a ‘happy, normal’ child when that was what Leia believed him to be, despite not being around enough to know what he actually felt.
And not one mention of how it was TROS who truly demonised Leia. Whereas both the previous films showed her failures as well meaning mistakes, TROS showed her as a woman who chose not to train her own son when she was capable of doing it herself. It assassinated her character beyond repair and I often wonder if Carrie would have agreed with Leia being portrayed like that if she was still with us.
What worries me is that A is married and a teacher by profession - and also a mother, in real life. And she made one of the most disturbing comments I’ve read, that it’s a ‘good thing’ for women to put their careers before their children as it shows them ‘they are not the centre of your universe’.
We are entitled to like/dislike fictional characters.....but I’m really spooked because this comment by A has nothing to do with SW but is her personal view on real life. And I don’t think any parent, male or female,should put their careers before their families.
And ..then there is J, a dedicated Finn and JB fan. Again, her own choice. But does she really have the right to accuse anyone who doesn’t like either of being a card carrying, knuckle dragging white supremacist?
She accused me as ‘putting the white character before JB’s role as ‘black male lead’ because I simply said the ST ‘should have been Ben’s story’ in a Finn thread. Later, I was permabanned for mentioning Kylo in the same Finn thread - despite other posters often mentioning Kylo, Rey and Finn in threads devoted to other characters. But it isn’t just me. Anyone - anyone - who says the slightest negative thing about JB, such as calling him out on his horrible SM posts after TROS, is accused of racism. Anyone who criticises the Finn character is seen as racist. And although yes, I agree Finn was poorly handled in TROS, I can’t help but get angry when they accuse Rian Johnson of ‘destroying’ the character’ in TLJ when he gave him his own story arc and love interest and did a damn sight more with him than Abrams, who saw him as a lovesick groupie whose role was to follow Rey around shrieking her name every five minutes.
Most of all, I am heartily sick and tired of them accusing AD and Kylo of ‘taking Finn’s rightful role off him’
Excuse me? Kylo had nothing to do with it, he was established as the villain and it certainly wasn’t AD’s fault. He simply played the part. Finn was on the ‘other side’. If his character was reduced it’s down to the survival of the Poe character (some fans, to their credit, have also said this) who was slated to be killed off but wasn’t. But if anyone ‘stole’ anyone’s thunder it’s Rey - she was meant to be the main protagonist of the ST, not Finn. Kylo was the ‘villain’. Finn had more screen time than Kylo did in all three of the films.
Boyega is simply mad that he wasn’t Rey’s romantic love interest, despite DR herself stating the characters were meant to be ‘just friends’. He wasn’t interested in the fact that Finn had two beautiful ladies interested in him, he wanted to ‘lay the pipe’ with Rey. And this lies at the heart of his dissatisfaction with his character’s direction. but is has nothing to do with AD or the Kylo character. Finn fans refuse to accept that as the blood descendant of the OT characters of course Kylo/Ben had to have a major role in the ST. Finn was never conceived as a ‘lead’ character, and it is both spiteful and unfair for JB and his fans to assume it’s because of his ethnicity.
I’m not the only one who has been targeted by J...she has driven three posters to my knowledge off the JCF, one who isn’t even a Kylo fan, with her endless spurious accusations. Yet she gets away with it....because A is a major supporter. And A is a moderator.
As for me, I tend to have a stubborn streak and although I repeatedly told myself engaging with the toxic fantatics permeating the JCF isn’t good for me, I just couldn’t stop. I just had to repeatedly defend Kylo and AD from the increasingly nasty comments, despite it doing nothing for my mental health and personal happiness. So, when I was finally permabanned for once again mentioning Kylo in a ‘some other character’ thread, I’m actually relieved, because I’m now ‘off’ the site. I still read it just to see how the other posters are getting on, and I’ve noticed most of those who like Kylo and even AD are disappearing.
A and J are bit by bit destroying anyone who doesn’t share their opinions and driving them away, reducing the forum to a tedious one character love fest. In short, anyone who doesn’t agree with them isn’t welcome. So much for freedom of speech.
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