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ncssian · 3 years

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A Favor: Part Twenty-Seven

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: working a full time job + part time job tutoring english + applying for scholarships + still having free time left is a lot harder than i thought it would be. which is my way of saying this chapter should've been done a week ago lol.

i call this my goodbye chapter b/c goodbyes are made.

***

As Nesta brings the last of her things into the cabin, Azriel takes the last of his stuff out.

Standing beside Cassian, Nesta watches Azriel shut the trunk over the final box of his belongings. With all the extra stuff he stole from the cabin, it almost seemed like everything wouldn’t fit into his tiny car, but here he is. Ready to go.

He dusts off his leather jacket and approaches her and Cassian. “This is goodbye,” he says, coming to a stop before them.

Nesta once thought this would be the happiest day of her life, second to her wedding day. She should have predicted that her rightful joy would be extinguished by sentimentality.

Cassian claps Azriel on the shoulder, the two brothers having already said their goodbyes in private. Still, Nesta can see a little sorrow in Cassian’s eyes, as if he also got too used to having Az around all the time.

Azriel, the dick, reveals nothing through his eyes. Neither does Nesta.

The two of them look at each other awkwardly for a moment, and then he comes in to hug her. Nesta hugs him back, arms crossing around his broad back, but it has the same stiffness as two Barbie dolls being made to kiss each other.

When Azriel tries to pull away, Nesta clutches him to her with surprising strength. “I know about the picture,” she says lowly in his ear.

“Too late to take it back now.” She might feel him smile on top of her hair.

Nesta lets go of Azriel swiftly, having had enough physical contact with him to last a year. “Drive safe, so Elain can find you in one piece,” she orders.

Azriel grimaces at that, reminded of what waits for him in Velaris. Whatever Elain decides to give him, it’ll probably be deserved.

“I’ll get going then.” Az starts backing away, and Nesta hears Cassian sniffle. She looks toward her boyfriend in concern, but he circles his huge arms around her shoulders and pulls her back to his chest before she can catch him getting teary-eyed.

They watch Azriel get in his car and drive away. Nesta waves until the car disappears fully into the thickness of the surrounding trees, waves until her arms are too tired to keep going.

Once Az is gone, she turns in Cassian’s embrace and jumps up into his arms. Her legs hook around his hips and his hands fit themselves under her thighs. She smiles and tells him, “Let’s go home.”

Ten minutes later, they find themselves sitting in the silence of the kitchen. It’s the quiet of a house adjusting to a missing person, and Azriel’s absence is tangible.

Cassian is the first to break the silence. “Do you think he’s past city limits by now?” he asks as he stirs his coffee.

“No.” Nesta turns the page of her book, focused on reading. “Not if he stopped by Gwyn’s before leaving.”

She hears Cassian stop stirring. “What does that mean?” he says.

Nesta looks up at him and shrugs. “It means he probably wants to say goodbye to her.”

***

“One charge of assault, one for battery, and one huge lawsuit against my company,” Rhys reads aloud from the file in front of him.

Cassian waves a hand in dismissal. “Just make it go away like you always do.”

Rhysand’s near-violet eyes narrow with barely restrained rage. “Cassian. You shattered an employee’s hand.”

“Hey, O’Connell.” Cassian strolled up to him early last Monday morning. The underground parking lot was near empty at this hour, since most workers wouldn’t come in until nine. “How was the rest of your weekend?”

O’Connell looked up from getting his bag out of his car, clearly surprised to see Cassian willingly make small talk with him. “It was good,” he answered lightly. “You left Velaris early, though.”

“Yeah, about that.” Cassian came to a stop by O’Connell’s car and held out his hand, catching the car door before it could be shut. “I had to take my girlfriend home.”

O’Connell looked confused, but nodded along. “That’s nice. Can you—?” He gestured at the car door, indicating to Cassian to let go.

Cassian didn’t. “What hand did you use?”

“Excuse me?”

“When you touched her,” Cassian clarified. “What hand did you use when you touched her?”

O’Connell’s look of confusion morphed into one of contempt. “What the hell are you talking about, man?”

“Nesta Archeron.” Cassian straightened up, hand tightening over the top of the car door. “Your old college friend.” Realization dawned across O’Connell’s face, but he still hadn’t answered Cassian’s question.

“If you don’t tell me now, I’ll have to take my pick.” Cassian clicked his tongue in disappointment. “You’re left-handed, aren’t you?” He snatched up O’Connell’s left hand, and in a flash O’Connell was pressed up against the car, his hand pinned to the doorframe.

“Hey, wait, what are you—” O’Connell protested.

The sound of a car door slamming shut on a hand was louder than Cassian expected. It was the crunch of bones and muscle followed by immediate screaming.

“It could have been worse,” Cassian said flatly over O’Connell’s cries of pain. “It could have been your tongue, since you like talking shit so much.”

Cassian blinks out of the memory. “So what if I did?” he shrugs in response to Rhys.

“You are a member of my inner circle,” Rhysand fumes. “Keith O’Connell is a respected figure in our industry and a higher up from Vanserra and Co., and the head of our Milan outpost, but you saw fit to take out justice on him without asking me first.”

“You had nothing to do with it.”

“That is not up to you!” Rhysand jabs a finger at Cassian. “What will our shareholders think when they hear about this? What will the board members say?”

Cassian is starting to get irritated now. “They won’t find out, because you won’t tell them,” he says firmly. “We both know you’ve covered up worse things to fit your agenda, but it’s a problem if I don’t want a creepy bastard working under my jurisdiction?”

Having learned most of his business tricks from his father, Rhys is no perfectly clean CEO himself. He would’ve done far worse to O’Connell if it was Feyre in Nesta’s place, and he would have ended it all with a speech about how abusers and their sympathizers have no place at Night Court Inc.

The thought only inflames Cassian more; maybe he’s still riding off the anger of O’Connell making Nesta cry.

Tempering his feelings, he tells Rhys, “When you’re done shutting O’Connell up,” because Rhys would do it no matter how angry he pretended to be, “make sure Nesta never finds out about this.”

Rhys sits back in his chair, a bitter smirk pulling at his mouth. “Afraid she’ll be horrified of what a brute her sweet boyfriend is?”

Cassian nearly snorts at the image of Nesta recoiling at a broken hand. She’d probably call him weak for not shoving O’Connell into a ravine. “No,” he answers tiredly. “It’s not violence that offends her, but if she finds out it was in her name… I don’t want to put that on her shoulders.” Which is a shame, because in any other situation Nesta would love to hear about the unfortunate circumstances that led to O’Connell quitting his job.

Rhys lets loose a long sigh. “Damn, you both scare me.” After a few moments, he asks, “Now what are we going to do about Milan?”

***

Life after moving in with Cassian passes by quickly, and before Nesta knows it, she’s completed her second year of law school.

As for the boys who were some of her first friends and drinking companions, back when Nesta barely knew the definition of a friend—today they complete their final year of law school.

Nesta fans herself with the pamphlet she was handed at the beginning of the graduation ceremony, trying to stop the harsh morning sun from melting the makeup off her face. The audience is packed like sardines onto one huge field, and the announcer on stage hasn’t even reached the last names that start with D. Eris, Justinian, and Isaac are all near the bottom of the alphabet.

“Do we really need to be here today?” Nesta murmurs to Emerie, squirming in her metal foldout chair.

Sitting at her right, Emerie throws her a scolding look. “Don’t be like that. We’re never going to see these guys again.”

Nesta sincerely doubts that, considering how none of the guys are moving more than a few hours away. But her uterus is raising hell right now, even though her new meds have put a stop to her periods. Paired with the ache in her back from these terrible chairs, she’s about to call it quits and go straight home.

“Nesta!”

She whips her head to the left, finding Elain striding through the row of chairs to reach the empty seat beside her.

Like watching the Red Sea part, everyone in the row pulls their feet back and makes themselves as small as possible so Elain can have a clear walkway.

Nesta moves the purse she used to save Elain’s seat aside, and Elain drops her butt onto the little foldout chair like it’s a throne.

“A little warm for an outdoor ceremony, don’t you think?” Elain fans her face.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here, you know,” Nesta says.

“Eris made me. I haven’t talked to him since I broke up with his brother, but I think he wants to look like he has a lot of friends here.”

“Yeah, that checks out,” Emerie mutters from Nesta’s other side.

Elain seems to take notice of Emerie for the first time, and her Southern charm turns on like a switch. “Oh my, I don’t think we’ve met.”

Elain introduces herself and Emerie does the same, smiling and nodding politely, and Nesta can’t even decide if she likes this crossover because she’s too busy massaging her aching abdomen.

A string of “Excuse me, sorry!”s go up in the row they’re sitting in, and a moment later a familiar face plops down on the chair to Emerie’s right.

Gwyn leans over Emerie and holds a bottle of Advil out to Nesta. “This is all I could find in my car, babe.”

Nesta releases a sigh of relief and snatches the bottle. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

Elain’s gaze moves to the medicine, then to Gwyn. “You must be Gwyn.” She offers a smile. “I’m Nesta’s sister, Elain.”

Gwyn’s eyes widen imperceptibly, and Nesta realizes she should have warned Gwyn that Elain would be here.

Going off how Gwyn’s been acting the last few weeks, Nesta can only assume that she influenced Azriel’s final decision to move away, whether directly or indirectly. Nesta doesn’t even know much about what happened between the two of them during their weird sex deal, considering that she and Gwyn promised to never discuss such horrible things with each other.

All Nesta knows is that Azriel is Gwyn’s closest male friend, and close friends that have also slept together probably don’t want to bump into each other’s exes without warning.

“Are you here to see Eris graduate, too?” Elain asks.

Gwyn looks like a deer caught in headlights. “Who? Oh—no, I’m just here so we can drive to brunch together after.” Her voice gets quieter with each word, and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Nice to meet you,” she adds in a murmur, her face a furious shade of red. She quickly looks forward at the stage as if the graduation ceremony is the most fascinating thing ever.

Elain doesn’t note the odd behavior, instead refocusing on the Advil pills that Nesta pops into her mouth and swallows dry. “Are you still hurting?” Elain says, furrowing her thin brows. “I thought you got that problem fixed.”

Nesta tries not to snort as she accepts the bottle of water that Emerie wordlessly passes her. “You can’t ‘fix’ endometriosis, Elain. That’s not how it works.”

“Oh. Well how was I supposed to know that?”

Nesta slides unamused hooded eyes to her sister. Before she can retort anything, Emerie elbows her hard. “Look, it’s Isaac!”

She refocuses on the ceremony, cheering and clapping half-heartedly as Isaac takes the stage. It’s not that she doesn’t care about her study buddies; it’s just that she feels like shit right now.

Justinian follows suit a few minutes later, grinning and waving when he spies Emerie cheering for him. Gwyn is distracted on her phone through all of it.

The Advil has finally started to kick in when Nesta murmurs to Elain, “How is Azriel adjusting to being back in the city?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Elain answers innocently. “I haven’t seen much of him since he returned.”

“Just spill it,” Nesta says. “Azriel wouldn’t tell me anything, so I’m assuming he’s humiliated about it.”

Elain sighs, delicately pushing her hair behind her shoulder. “He came to me to talk. I heard him out, and then we went back to his apartment for coffee, and then I took my fabric scissors and cut out the crotch from all his pants.”

Nesta raises a brow. “All of them?”

“All of them.”

Nesta shrugs, turning back to face the stage. “It’s good enough. I could have done worse.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re not me, isn’t it?” Elain snips.

Nesta won’t say it, but she supposes she is a little happy for Elain. In fact, she thinks this might be the first time Elain has stood up for herself instead of letting Nesta handle it.

After the ceremony is over, Emerie goes off to congratulate Isaac and Justinian. Gwyn follows so she can get away from Elain, and Nesta, being sweaty and overstimulated and more than ready to leave, settles for waving her arms and grinning at the boys from across the field.

She’s about to say goodbye to Elain and make a beeline for the parking lot when she spots a head of shining red hair approaching her. No—make that two heads.

Eris looked unbearably snooty as he received his degree, likely smug with the fact that he has a comfortable job at a family friend’s corporate law firm lined up for him after he passes the Bar. Nesta admits that she’s a little disappointed in him: after all his talk of working hard and being the smartest person in the room, he ended up riding his father’s coattails to a disgustingly high salary. But maybe that is hard work for him, considering that there was such a ruckus in the Vanserra family when he chose to go into law instead of business.

As for Lucien… Well, Nesta really has no idea what the kid does, but she knows he looks good, better than the last time she saw him. An early summer tan makes him glow in comparison to his brother, while lean forearms are revealed under the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt. He looks comfortable in a way he wasn’t at Thanksgiving all those months ago.

Even with his ex standing just a few feet away.

“Elain,” Lucien greets her with a foxlike smile.

Elain rolls her eyes in response and turns to Eris. “Congratulations on graduating, hun. Now that we’re even, kindly delete my number from your phone and never call me again.”

Even? Nesta raises a brow, wondering what that could possibly mean.

“I take it this is goodbye?” Eris tells her.

“I’m already leaving,” Elain says sweetly. She blows a kiss at Eris, then Nesta. “Feel better soon,” she chirps at her, before striding away in her pastel pink heels.

Very jealous of Elain getting to escape before she can, Nesta calls after her, “Hot date to catch?” She’s wearing the signature perfume she usually does when meeting with a man.

Elain tosses over her shoulder, “Something like that.” Her purse swings as she disappears around a corner to the parking lot.

Nesta watches her go with envy, and when she turns back she finds Eris already looking at her. Meanwhile, Lucien still has his eyes glued to the spot where Elain disappeared.

“You feel sick?” Eris asks her.

“No thank you, I have a boyfriend,” Nesta replies on instinct.

Eris scoffs once in indignation, then twice. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he says with disbelief. “I can care about my friends, you know.”

“You want her,” Lucien mutters.

Nesta’s eyes snap to Lucien, who seems to be acknowledging her presence for the first time today. “And what do you want?” She tilts her head at him, intrigued at having a new playmate. He’s less predictable than Eris, at the very least.

Lucien looks at her and offers a sheepish smile. “Nothing you can give me.”

Eris rolls his eyes at the both of them, clearly regretting bringing his brother along with him. “I’m already bored of this conversation,” he laments. “I’m out; the D.A. is here and I want to say hi. Find me when you’re done, punk.” Eris bonks Lucien on the head with his rolled up diploma and starts walking away, only pausing to extend a mocking bow to Nesta. “We’re not over yet, Archeron,” he calls as he leaves.

Now it’s Nesta’s and Lucien’s turn to roll their eyes.

With only the two of them left, Nesta feels obliged to ask awkwardly, “So… how’ve you been?”

Lucien’s gaze slides to her. “I didn’t know you were Elain’s sister,” he says.

She huffs a laugh. “I didn’t know you were her ex at first, either. Does it matter?”

Lucien’s mouth turns down in thought, but he doesn’t answer her question. “I’m doing good,” he says in response to her former question instead. “I’ve been living the nomad life, traveling around with friends, roadtripping in a van.”

But would you come home for Elain? Nesta can’t help but wonder.

She didn’t know Lucien had dated Elain until after her first meeting with him, but even then it had been something of a throwaway detail. Elain dates lots of guys, and falls in love with even more of them. She seemed to barely remember Lucien’s name when Nesta first brought it up in front of her.

But for some inexplicable reason, Nesta genuinely likes Lucien. A part of her recognizes something similar in a part of him, and it makes her sad to imagine him being stuck on a girl who won’t think about him twice.

“Take my advice,” Nesta tells him bluntly, “and move on if you haven’t yet. Staring after Elain when she already broke up with you will get you nowhere.” Elain isn’t the type to ever look back, and she never falls for the same man twice.

Lucien just looks at Nesta with a blank face. “I broke up with her,” he says.

Nesta’s mouth falls open.

“And,” he adds, “I was staring at her ass.” He starts walking backwards to his brother, giving Nesta an innocent grin as he leaves. “It was nice meeting again. See you in another six months.”

Nesta is dumbfounded watching him go, not knowing what to do with this new knowledge. As far as she knows, no one has ever broken up with Elain except for Azriel—and that ended in Az losing all of his pants.

It only occurs to Nesta that she shouldn’t have let Lucien get away with that ass comment when Emerie and Gwyn suddenly appear at her side, each of them interlocking an arm with hers. “You feeling better?” Emerie inquires cheerfully. “Ready to go?”

Nesta nods slowly, forcefully putting Lucien Vanserra and his too-sly demeanor out of her mind. He isn’t her problem right now. Summer is already here with a vengeance, and she’ll only have so much free time with the people she loves most. So she chooses to focus only on them.

Tugging her friends closer and squeezing their arms, Nesta asks, “Where are we eating?”

***

a/n: this needs sooo much more editing lol i could have done a lot more with this chapter if i wasn’t constantly tired and pressed for free time. sorry y’all :/

tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes@readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland @moodymelanist @pixieelea @teagoddess99 @mystic-bibliophile

#nessian #ncssianwrites #nesta archeron #cassian #a favor #nessian au #nessian fic

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dr3amofagame · 3 years

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i think that although the theories/aus of puffy's son dream and wil's brother dream are interesting to think about, especially the implications, the (probably) canon statement that he really has no family to me hits the hardest. because it's just dream, you know. his friends hate him, he has none (p relatable), but i can't really imagine,, both not having friends and not having a family. that's kind of what keeps a lot of us sane and okay ( - quill anon (same anon from the c!tubbo c!wil ask) )

ouch quill anon ,, this ask Hurt. it’s true - usually, it’s our family and friends that keep us going, that are the ones that we fight for and live for and love for. c!dream’s “family” was his reasoning behind ,, a lot of the stuff he did, good or bad, and even now you can hear his desperation in getting someone, anyone to visit sometimes, in wanting to know how people are doing outside the cell.

at the same time, he’s a character very much defined by his solitude, by his isolation, by all of the time he has spent,, alone. by the alliances that had been broken, betrayed, forgotten. by how- at the end of the day - he sits for hours on end in an obsidian box with nothing but his thoughts to accompany him. it’s awfully ,, sad, despite everything he’s done. through it all, he’s alone. he survives the horrors of the vault (until this current arc) alone. nobody’s there to hear his thoughts. nobody knows his mindset, or feelings, or wants, or anything that really makes him human. for someone so driven by people, he spends so much time completely isolated - and it’s. honestly really, really tragic.

anyway, this is a sad little drabble set pre-roommates arc abt c!dream in the prison, alone, bc he makes me Sad.

tw: mentioned torture, abuse, violence, broken bones, blood, injuries, mental deterioration, isolation, panic attacks, self-deprecation, trauma, memory loss, death, contemplations of death, dark content, dark imagery

The blank book in his hand stares at him stubbornly, the stark white of the untouched pages nearly burning his eyes, used to the dark walls and floor of the cell. Dream’s hand shakes around his quill, ink splotches marring the pages from where his too-unsteady hand had let the nib brush against the paper and left freckles of black spots behind. He pulls his thumb back from the bottom left corner, hissing slightly when it leaves a dull red fingerprint behind, a smudge of half-dried blood further dirtying the paper.

He’d pulled out one of the books for some reason, probably on a whim, letting his hands run over the leather spine and along the thread of the binding absentmindedly after Quackity left for the day. He hadn’t touched them in a while - he liked to save them, at the beginning, just in case visitors came and he wanted to thank them or if he needed to communicate (though he hadn’t gone silent since Sapnap left, ‘cause Sapnap wanted him to talk and he doesn’t know why he still clings to that visit when it’s been months and he still hasn’t come back, but he promised that if Dream behaved he’d visit again and - it’s stupid to hope, but Dream can’t give up, not yet) and then he kept them because he would need them for the revive book and the Warden would confiscate them, anyway, so it was better not to get attached. Regardless, he’d stubbornly ignored the chest of books for a long time, let the remain closed and the clasp go unlatched as he wasted his days away watching the walls drip bright purple and pretend he didn’t miss his clock.

Until now.

He runs his fingers along the surface of the paper again, ignoring the red and black smudges they leave in their wakes, ruining the previously unblemished pages. The paper is smooth, bearing a very slight grain, and smells clean and woody - this book must’ve been a newer one the Warden replaced into the chest. He’d counted the pages a few times, front and back - there are fifty sheets, so a hundred pages to use as he sees fit, completely empty and untouched. The quill shakes in his hand, the tip pressed against the paper, unmoving.

What is there to write?

He’s forgotten why he pulled out the book in the first place, already - his head keeps getting fuzzier, memory impossibly fragmented and seemingly worsening with every passing day. He knows he had a reason because he’d been very determined about it, had spent what must have been hours dragging himself along the obsidian floor with a broken shinbone jutting out of his right leg and a dislocated left shoulder that he’d taken an extra few minutes to jam back in place by pressing it against the floor. Something had come into his head, probably in the middle of Quackity’s daily session, and he’d found himself desperate to write it down before he forgot despite the throbbing of his head and the pain in his chest making it impossible to take a full breath.

(He must have talked back, or acted defiant, or something - he doesn’t remember much besides the look Quackity had given him after, dark and angry and tight with rage. There had been a hand tangled in his hair, a blade jammed right up against his throat, curses and screams in his ears dying into a singular ringing echo as the blade was pushed deeper and deeper. It wasn’t until a few minutes later when Quackity realized that he’d gone too deep and that Dream was choking on his own blood - his memories shatter, and there’s nothing but more screaming, red and black and blood everywhere, warm against his skin, the sweet-sour taste of glistening melon on his tongue, a healing pot desperately stitching his skin together and bringing him back from the darkness that he’d swelled in the corners of his vision - mostly, he remembers everything going cold and numb and he’d realized, halfway into the Void, that he would never leave the Vault alive.)

His hands tighten on the book as he breathes a shallow, harsh breath through his teeth, because - oh. Oh. He looks back at the trembling white plume in his hand, at his shaking fingers clenched tightly near the end, and he swallows the thick, heavy feeling in his throat. Quackity had- and he had- and then-

Right.

He forces air into his lungs steadily, counting the seconds off in his head. He’d learned how to stave off panic attacks on his own ages ago, and the knowledge had come to full use in the Vault - the struggle to stay calm seems harder with every passing day, but he can’t exactly risk himself passing out every three seconds when he’s inevitably set off by the smell of blood or a twinge of pain or any of the million other triggers crammed into this tiny box that’s been the source of all of his torment for months. He keeps up the slow, steady breathing for another few minutes, just enough time to pull back the darkness creeping in from the edges of his vision, and looks back down at the blank paper.

It stares back at him, almost judgmental of his hesitancy. You opened me up, it seems to challenge him, why aren’t you writing? The quill still shakes in his hand. He doesn’t know if it’ll ever stop shaking again.

Dear, he begins, almost in defiance, proof that he Is Going To Write Something, thank you very much, he isn’t just going to chicken out and leave it a blank book (like you have before?) but the quill tip digs into the paper as he grinds to a sudden halt, the empty space next to the first word nearly taunting. He feels his mouth dry, heat rising behind his eyes - the book, silent and blank as ever, stays imprinted in his vision even as he squeezes them shut.

Dear, what a stupid, sentimental way to start a letter. He can’t even fool himself into thinking of it as a business venture, turn it into an elaborate plan to escape and address it to either Techno or Wilbur (who would never receive his message anyway), not without admitting his regard for the two edged past his pretense of professional interested and owed favors. He can hardly write it to Ranboo, not without compromising their already fragile alliance (if it even exists, anymore. The enderman hybrid had yet to visit for months - and sure, it was probably for the best, who knows how Quackity would react if he found out about the nature of their relationship, but that didn’t make it sting any less.)

In the back of his minds, name rise from where he’d kept them carefully buried despite his best efforts. Punz. Bad. Puffy. Sapnap. George. He shakes his head, trying to wave away them from his thoughts, but the effort is as fruitless as it has always been - he stares at the first word angrily, like it has betrayed him, and receives no response. The words are messy, shaking, his script overly looping and rounded like a child’s. He hates it, hates how cheery it looks, even on the bloodstained page - it looks like the beginning of a birthday card, or a perhaps a particularly dedicated Halloween party invite. Like he’s some sort of lovesick teen, writing letters to crushes that would never pay him a second glance. He laughed a little, without any real humor - minus the romance, that description isn’t all that far off.

Because- well. His memories might be shot to all hell, but he doubts he’ll ever forget the hatred on Sapnap’s face, a loaded crossbow pointed between his eyes, George’s expression set in disinterested apathy - “George, you can give the word.” Bad’s face, twisted in pity and resignation, voice carefully measured as he looks away and gestures at the cell, “you did do some pretty bad stuff to get put in here though, Dream,” the hidden “you deserve it” that he’d heard, just as clearly behind the words. Punz - “you should’ve paid me more” - jaw set stiffly as people poured through the portal, watching, wordless, as Dream bled out twice on that blackstone floor. Puffy, poorly hidden disgust flickering over her face as she looks away from him being dragged away in chains, sword held steady in her hands. Sapnap, that same fiercely determined expression on his face so familiar that thinking of it aches, even now, “it’s gonna be me, who takes your final life.” Months and months and months and months, alone.

Always, always, alone.

The page makes a quiet, complaining groan under his pen - he looks down to see it torn under the tip of his quill, the word completely unreadable under line after line of black ink scratched over it, each one deeper than the last. He stares blankly at it for a few minutes longer, the brief flash of anger that had seared through his body settling into numbness once more.

To whoever may find this: he scratches the words on the page slowly, keeping his print deliberately blocky and neat. The heavy feeling in his throat returns, stronger than ever, and he ignores it as he pushes on.

He pauses for a moment, wondering what more to write. Apologies? Accusations? He could detail every second that he remembers from Quackity’s visits, describe every inch of pain that had been pulled from his aching lungs, every line etched into his skin. He could apologize for every act of cruelty that had ever been caused by his hands, every bridge he’d ever torched to light the path to a better future. He could explain - everything, every tortured thought that had circled his head for hours on end and every night that had passed without any sleep and every time he’d pushed on without complaint or hesitancy because it would be worth it, even if he was the only one who saw it, it would be worth it because he’d sacrifice too much for it to be anything but. He could- he could, he could write and write until he’d filled every page of every book back and front, and would they even believe him? Would it even matter?

Goodbye, he writes at last. It feels strangely final. (He won’t be leaving this Vault alive. He knows this as surely as he knows that he will leave this world uncared for, unheard. As surely as he knows that he’ll always be alone.) With a quick snap of magic following the signing of his name, the book is preserved, shining slightly with a purple glow as he sets it back down in the chest. He looks around, the cell once again stiflingly quiet without the book to busy him, Dream once again completely alone as he’s been for - well.

(Pandas, eyebrows drawn in uncharacteristic seriousness from the usually painfully spirited eight-year-old, pinkie raised between the two of them, solemnity belied by the gap in his front teeth poking out between his lips.

“We’ll be together forever,” he whispered with the volume control you’d expect from a kid that age, which is to say that it wasn’t much of a whisper at all, but Dream, newly ten years old, remembers being particularly moved by the gesture anyway, moving to hesitantly hook his own pinkie in the other’s.

“And we’ll never be alone ever again,” he’d replied, voice faraway with a disbelieving sort of awe.”

“Never,” Pandas’ voice had been just as firm as his first statement, twisting his wrist to tighten the grip of their linked fingers further. “Best friends for ever and ever, right?”

“For ever and ever.”)

“For ever and ever,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut as he slumps down against the floor, and only the lava bubbles in reply.

#tw torture #tw abuse #tw violence #tw broken bones #tw injuries #tw mental deterioration #tw isolation #tw panic attack #tw self deprecation #tw trauma #tw memory loss #tw death #tw dark content #tw dark imagery #-> my writing #my writing :D #my asks !!#-> my asks #quill anon !

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stardusttrashed · 3 years

Text

Lovestruck (Finale)

Part 4

Pairing: Professor Erwin x Fem! Reader, Connie x Sasha

Word Count: 2K

A/N: A huge thanks to everyone who stuck around for this series and showed it some love. also, if you haven't already go check out the playlist I made that gives professor Erwin vibes :)

“Sorry I’m late, Mr. Smith,” you squeaked as you squeezed past the door into the old familiar room. “Hope you didn’t haveta wait too long,” you smiled apologetically.

Erwin turned around, looking up from the whiteboard he was writing away on. He smiled handsomely, quietly sighing in relief, “actually, you’re right on time as usual.” He closed the distance between you before placing a kiss on your forehead. “How much’d you spend? I’ll pay you back,” he reassured you as he led you towards his desk.

“You can pay me back by coming to movie night,” you purred, quickly throwing the idea out there as you took a seat on his desk. You rummaged through the plastic bag, taking out two to-go boxes as Erwin rolled his desk chair over. “You’ve been officially invited by Thing One and Thing Two. And they’ll probably lose their shit if I show up without you.”

“Sasha and Connie, right?” he confirmed. You hummed in response. Erwin tensed up momentarily once he saw you sitting on his desk, sinful thoughts running rampant in his mind. He was curious how much of a good girl you’d be for him. Or if you’d let him eat something else for lunch. It didn’t make it any better that you still had his shirt on. A blush painted his cheeks as he pushed the thoughts down, plopping in his seat and scooting closer until he was sitting between your legs, “I’d love to, darling.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, occasionally broken by strings of giggles as you stuffed your faces with the Chinese food you brought. You took turns feeding spoonfuls of each other's food to the other, goofy, uncontrollable, lovestruck smiles printed on your faces. There was so much you both wanted to say to each other, wanting to ask about the other’s day, or ask trivial things, or address what you were. But neither could muster the courage to break the moment. So instead, you spoke through lingering touches and longing gazes.

“Erwin,” a familiar voice said dryly, followed by the footsteps of them entering the room. “Found your sandwich in the fridge in the staff room.” Erwin’s eyes went wide, more surprised about being caught than the actual sandwich. “Figured I’d bring it before you starve.”

You sent Erwin a playfully threatening glare, “you had food?! I- you little,” you quickly hissed, stopping short as Erwin apologetically squeezed your thigh.

Erwin chuckled embarrassedly, removing the hand on your thigh to scratch the back of his neck. “I must’ve forgot.” He looked back and forth between you and Levi, both of you looking back at him with unconvinced expressions. He was busted for sure.

“Right,” Levi drawled out as his eyes scanned the desk, taking in the to-go boxes and how close you and Erwin were sitting. “At least you��re not starving. And glad to see the two of you finally grew a pair and made things official.”

“W-well,” you stuttered, to no avail. Levi was already walking out of the room, muttering something about how you should at least lock the door. Gradually, your shock shifted into overconfidence. “Missed me that much, huh? Pretty lame excuse if you ask me.”

“Shouldn’t be much of a surprise, darling,” Erwin cooed, his blue eyes practically filled with hearts. It felt like butterflies were coursing throughout his entire body as you leaned down to kiss him. It was short and sweet, just a lingering peck, yet you left him breathless. “Y/n, I- um.” He could feel the tips of his ears growing uncomfortably warm. Your soft giggles weren’t helping either. “Hold on.”

You watched as Erwin struggled to hold onto his cool. It was still weird, no matter how many times you saw him grow flustered. He was the gorgeous giant of a man that left men and women alike flustered, yourself included. Yet, you always seemed to be the one to turn the tables without doing anything but being yourself. He wasn’t some Greek God, okay, well looks-wise, yes. And personality-wise. Okay, maybe he was a Greek god, but that didn’t stop him from being a friendly giant or a big cinnamon roll around you.

“I, uh,” he quickly glanced up at you before returning his focus to the journal he pulled out of his desk drawer. “I got you this,” he held the small journal out to you.

You gingerly took it from him. A thin gold rope chain tucked away in the journal as a bookmark tapped your hand as it swayed from the movement. You prayed he couldn’t see the way your cheeks grew warm as you opened the journal to the page the chain rested against. In the center of the lined paper lay a key strung on the chain. The key wasn’t anything fancy, just a plain house key that covered a neatly written note. You glanced up at Erwin momentarily before moving aside the key to read the note aloud. “I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity, and her flaming self-respect. And it’s these things I’d believe in, even if the whole world indulged in wild suspicions that she wasn’t all she should be. I love her, and it is the beginning of everything. F. Scott Fitzgerald,” you read, your throat growing tighter with every word.

“I don’t want you to feel like I’m rushing anything,” Erwin quickly spoke up once you finished reading. “I just, well, I figured you could use my place as a place to write and get some inspiration. I don’t want to pressure you, though. This can be completely platonic, and we can ignore-.”

You set the journal aside and stopped his nervous rambling with a kiss. Your lips moved lazily against each other, savoring everything from the moment to the taste of one another. Time seemed to slow as you lost yourself in the softness of his lips and the warmth of his hands on your hips. You could feel him surrendering to you, giving you everything he could until he was left with nothing, not even a breath… until you reluctantly pulled away. You rested your forehead on his, your eyebrows knitted together as you tried to catch your breath enough to say something.

“And for a moment, I thought I loved him,” you breathed, altering the quote slightly to fit the situation more. Your breath fanned across his lips, giving him visible chills as you continued, “but I am slow-thinking and full of interior rules that act as brakes on my desires.”

“Committing Great Gatsby quotes to memory, are we,” Erwin teased, his voice husky as he finally managed to catch his breath.

“Only the most beautiful ones that’ll impress my professors, er, used to be professors.”

“Consider the job done then.” Erwin looked at you like you were the only one, not just now, but forever. His ocean eyes shone like he was looking at the sun, and in a way, he was. You always were a star that he couldn’t help but gravitate to. He lost you for a while, but just like the planets orbiting around the sun, he managed to find his way back to your warmth.

You reached out and pushed a stray hair back into place, “not polite to stare, baby. Even if ya look cute doing it.”

“Dance with me,” Erwin blurted. He needed to hold you, to bask in your warmth. He wanted to do what he should’ve last night, holding you close as you swayed to music that could better articulate the feelings he has for you.

“What?”

Erwin chuckled and shrugged, “dance with me, and I’ll stop.” He stood up with a devilish grin on his face. “Just one dance?”

“Erwin, I don’ think this is the place-” you were cut off by Erwin scooping you up into his strong arms bridal style. You held onto him despite feeling utterly safe as he maneuvered his way out of the classroom. “Baby, where are you taking me?” you squealed with childlike giddy.

“To a place we can dance,” Erwin looked down at you with a wicked smile as he walked out of the building with you still cradled close to his chest. The soft drizzle of rain welcomed the both of you, which made you squeal and hurriedly attempt to cover your head.

“Erwin Smith, take me back inside before I kick your ass!”

“No, can do; you said we couldn’t dance in the classroom.” He sent a kind smile to the people passing by. “Besides, as sweet and sugary as you are, you won’t melt.”

“You don’t know that.” You smacked your hand against his chest, “I hate you right now.” The soft drizzle was gradually becoming a steady stream of droplets that made any efforts to protect your hair futile. With a huff, you gave up, allowing the rain to return your hair to its natural state gradually. “Happy now?”

Erwin kissed the tip of your nose before gently setting you back on your feet underneath a large canopy tree. The twinkle of mischief in his eyes was a stark contrast to the soft apologies that tumbled from his mouth. “I promise, messing up your hair was not part of the plan.” His eyes flitted up to your curling hair, a proud smile forming on his face, “I was right, though. You look absolutely amazing, darling.”

You rolled your eyes, hoping it’d distract from the bashful smile tugging on your lips. “One dance,” you held up a finger for emphasis. “That’s it.”

“Just the one,” he gently pressed his lips against yours. “Unless you beg for more.” His laugh rumbled in his chest like quiet thunder as you playfully swatted his arm.

“Well, Mr. DJ, what’re gonna dance to?”

“No idea,” Erwin admitted with a bashful smile, looking up from his phone. “Just wanted an excuse to hold you close.” The soft, familiar strumming of a guitar filled the air before he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

With an outstretched hand, he looked at you with such genuine adoration that for a second, you forgot how to breathe. You slipped your hand into his, allowing him to guide your hands towards his shoulders. It felt silly, dancing in the middle of campus in the rain, and at the same time, it felt so surreal, like you two were straight out of a book.

“Only fools rush in,” Erwin quietly sang as he slid his hands around your hips. “But I can’t help fallin’ in love with you.” He had a smooth, calming singing voice like he was born to be a crooner. He didn’t sing around others often, not sober at least, but something about you made him feel like it was the right thing to do at this moment. Every word that fell from his lips was for you, and you only as you both sway in time with the music. He was yours, and the look in your eyes told him you were his.

You pressed yourself closer to him, the rest of the world slipping away. He was too warm, made you feel too secure for it to be reality. And yet, here he was, the man you secretly fell for years ago was in your arms singing Can’t Help Falling in Love to you. The increasing heaviness of the rain or people staring didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except him.

“I-,” you jumped at the sound of your ringtone, sending you plummeting back to reality with wide eyes. “S-sorry, I gotta,” you trailed off sheepishly as you pulled your phone out of your pocket before accepting the facetime call.

Erwin paused the music for you, trying to stay as quiet as possible as he played with your newly formed curls. It was hard for him to fight back the awestruck look on his face as your hair seemed to grow curlier by the second.

“Did you do it? Please tell me you did? I’ll do it for you,” Sasha bombarded you once you answered. She paused with wide eyes at the sound of Erwin’s amused chuckle. “Oh, my- is that him? Hi, Erwinie!”

“Wait, she did it?” You could hear Connie yell from somewhere offscreen. “Ha! You owe me twenty!”

You smiled apologetically at Erwin, who seemed quite amused with the situation. “Hi, Sasha,” Erwin cut in, laughing at the way she swooned after he said her name. “If we’re being technical, I was the one who did it.”

“Ha! I only owe you ten,” she exclaimed, sending Connie a face before focusing back on you and Erwin. “She invited you to movie night, right?”

“About that, why don’t you two come over to my place? I’ll even cook.”

“Careful before I steal him from you,” Sasha laughed. She was practically drooling already at the thought of free food.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but there’s only one girl for me.” He looked down at you with a confident smile, “she’s all I want and need.”

“What about guys?”

“Ew, you two are so cute it’s gross,” Sasha talked over Connie. “Get off my phone before ya make me sick.”

“Gladly,” you mused, giggles bubbling in your chest. “See y’all later.” You hung up before they could say anything else and turned your focus to Erwin. “I feel the same way, just so you know. Think you’re it for me.”

“I sure hope so cause I don’t plan on losing you again.”

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ninma · 3 years

Text

A look at Dream's punishment through irl rules and taking into account UN's rules regarding prisons. Because it is just interesting and it proves how there is NO justification for it. But mostly because it's interesting to look at and you may learn a thing or two.

I have seen too many times people trying to justify Dream's punishment. I did research and read through multiple articles and documents (over 73 pages of two different documents) about the more legal sides of his punishment. While Quackity's physical torture is obvious, I am here to address that even before that it was still very illegal. I know it is fictional! This is just a look into the real life facts and rules regarding prisons because it is interesting to look at Dream's punishment and Pandora's Vault under the light of these. So keep that in mind while reading this!

Welcome to my ted talk with actual facts and be prepared for quite the ride!

While yes, he has done bad things...however he has not done something so bad that he deserves a punishment so cruel that it's considered too inhumane for even mass murderers. Like actually! Stay tooned and you'll see what I mean.

His sentence is indefinite solidary confinement. Which is defined by the united nations as:

"the confinement of prisoners for 22 hours or more a day without meaningful human contact."

This means his punishment fits the definition for all his time (including visits) except when Tommy was locked inn and now with Quackity (although I'd consider the last one a turn for the worse). Now that we have that cleared up- lets get into the rule breaking. But first, let me introduce you to The Mandela Rules!

"The Mandela Rules reinforce human rights principles, including

the recognition of the absolute prohibition of torture and other cruel, inhuman

or degrading treatment or punishment and effective guidance

to national prison administrations for persons deprived of their liberty"

Now that we have established that, lets get into this concerning fact train!

Rule 43

1. In no circumstances may restrictions or disciplinary sanctions amount to torture or other cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment.

The following practices, in particular, shall be prohibited:

(a) Indefinite solitary confinement;

(b) Prolonged solitary confinement;

(d) Corporal punishment or the reduction of a prisoner’s diet or drinking water;

(e) Collective punishment.

Yeah...pretty clear breaking of 4/5 there. They can't even break e! Not to mention the pretty explicit breaking of d that was probably a surprise. You can count it as them breaking 4/4 if you count the fact that they can’t even break e. Rest assured my friend, this is just the beginning.

Rule 44

For the purpose of these rules, solitary confinement shall refer to the confinement of prisoners for 22

hours or more a day without meaningful human contact. Prolonged solitary confinement shall refer to

solitary confinement for a time period in excess of 15 consecutive days.

Already broken this one too huh. Even visiting days counts because I don't think anyone has been there for hours and I also don't think Sam's interactions would be long enough or count as meaningful human contact. The time with Tommy and Quackity is the only time it dosen't count as solidary. So this is getting...very much concerinng. But this is still only the start.

Rule 45

1. Solitary confinement shall be used only in exceptional cases as a last

resort*, for as* short a time as possible and subject to independent

review, and only pursuant to the authorization by a competent authority. It

shall not be imposed by virtue of a prisoner’s sentence.

2. The imposition of solitary confinement should be prohibited in the case

of prisoners with mental or physical disabilities when their conditions

would be exacerbated by such measures

Woops...so not only is it illegal as a punishment...but also the "he is a psychopath" argument (which is already a bad stereotype, but I won't get into psychology here. It's a common misconception and c!Tommy not knowing is almost to be expected. However please do not say that someone, character or real person, have a mental disorder or illness without proper knowledge about psychology and in the case of characters we shouldn’t put labels unless the writer has said that they have taken mental disorders or illnesses into account when making the character) just got yeeted out the window. Actually that argument just took a loop and now is an argument for the other side. It makes sense because as it says: it exacerbates their preexisting mental illnesses. Which is why it's prohibited.

"In no case may a detainee’s contact with the outside world be

dependent on his or her cooperativeness, be used as a disciplinary

sanction or form part of the sentence."

- Special Rapporteur on Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment, Civil and Political Rights, Including the Questions of Torture and Detention, ¶ 43, Comm’n on Human Rights,

“…The medical officer should visit prisoners held in solitary confinement

every day, on the understanding that such visits should be in the interests

of the prisoners ’ health. Furthermore, prisoners held in solitary

confinement for more than 12 hours should have access to fresh air for at

least 1 hour each day” - Subcomm. on Prevention of Torture [SPT]

Wow Sam...it is almost impressive in a dark way just how explicitly these are broken. The Warden's very punishments for disobedience just straight up counts as torture. And for the obvious record I highly doubt Quackity's daily visits to the green bloob counts as anything but 'the interests of the prisoners' health'. You can disagree here...but I am being very sarcastic.

Rule 22

1. Every prisoner shall be provided by the prison administration at the

usual hours with food of nutritional value adequate for health and

strength, of wholesome quality and well prepared and served.

Raw potatoes every day for the rest of your life..eehhh no thanks. If Dream ever gets out he will probably join me in the 'eating potatoes trauma' box. As funny as that sounds, it isn't a joke. I was force fed potatoes as a child and I hated it to the point where it gave me a mental block that stops me from eating them as my body just does not want to swallow it. It's a problem. But I can joke about it. Maybe Tommy will join us too, although it wasn't really the eating potatoes that caused that trauma...rip. Rest in anything but potatoes.

Rule 42

General living conditions addressed in these rules, including those related

to light, ventilation, temperature, sanitation, nutrition, drinking water,

access to open air and physical exercise, personal hygiene, health care

and adequate personal space, shall apply to all prisoners without

exception.

I think it's pointless to say more on that topic as it's pretty much already summed up. Let us now move over to what are probably some of the qoutes so specific that it's scary.

“Furthermore, [the Committee] is concerned about the use of solitary

confinement for indefinite periods of time.... Full isolation of 22 to 23

hours a day in supermaximum security prisons is unacceptable

(art. 16).” - Committee. against Torture [CAT]

Oh wow.. talk about on the nose. I should've just started with this one as it pretty much says pretty clearly how it is unacceptable. Like yikes...can you get more specific? It is just downright ridiculous at this point. (-_-;)

“Solitary confinement, when used for the purpose of punishment,

cannot be justified for any reason, precisely because it imposes severe

mental pain and suffering beyond any reasonable retribution for

criminal behaviour and thus constitutes an act defined in article 1 or article

16 of the Convention against Torture, and a breach of article 7 of the

International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights."

Ahaha...ha....yeah for those who justify it...the convention against torture is very much against it being justified...Imagine if the characters could read these rules, that'd be interesting. Although I am pretty sure they don't follow realism for the imprisonment. As I have already said; this is just an interesting look at the irl rules and how Dream's punishment and Pandora's Vault stand under light of them.

“No prisoner, including those serving life sentence [sic] and prisoners on

death row, shall be held in solitary confinement merely because of the

gravity of the crime.”

- Special Rapporteur on Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment

Like...there are no loopholes here. It is so extremely clear that it truly is darkly impressive how the characters don't seem to have a second thought about this. How do you accidentally sentence someone to a lifetime of torture without realizing? If they do know...It'd be very dark.

Btw Tommy's exile and his time in prison doesn't count as solidary confinement. Just to clear that up.

It amazes me how badly they break these rules...I know they probably didn't take the realism into consideration. However it is still kind of darkly impressive. Especially considering how scary specific they break them too. Even though this is just a interesting (I was about to write fun, however I wouldn't count realizing how inhuman the prison is is 'fun'. But it is interesting) look at Dream's punishment and Pandora's Vault under the light of real life rules for prisons. (lol my paranoid self have said this so much)

These facts also proves how saying it's justified...is kind of morally bad. Not attacking anyone! I just want to also say how while it is pure fiction and the characters in the story can have whatever opinion they want as they are characters. However when it comes to fans approving and justifying it without taking time to consider how it really isn't something that can be justified (real or no). You can have whatever opinion you want, however just maybe take some of what you have learned today and reflect over it? To think twice after having received new information dosen't hurt. I am not here to tell you what to think, so rest easy. Only to share some facts^^ (*so obviously scared of offending anyone*)

I recommend taking some time to look it up yourself if you want to look further into it. The psychological aspects of it is also interesting to look at!

I hope you have learned something here today and found this post and my research interesting! I spent hours on this so I hope you have enjoyed this! I originally posted this on reddit and I was very surprised at how many stopped by to read it and therefore I choose to post it here as well because you learn something and hopefully also gained a new perspective.

Ninma over and out!

#dream smp #pandora's vault

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enthusiasticharry · 3 years

Text

𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 | 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 6.7k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : i feel like i've been waiting years for this to happen when it has only been a few months or so but here it is! feels like home is finally here and i couldn't be more excited. this fic is literally like my child, just like checkmate was, but it does hit closer to home because there are some subjects and topics discusses that are things that happened to me or close to me, so i feel as though i have to protect it with my entire life. but please, do enjoy this not so brief introduction to feels like home, christian and luisa and their little world.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : explicit language, mentions of anxiety, depression and heavy injury. mentions of a car crash.

𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐍𝐄 here

“Christian!” The sound of her name rings through the entire Bed and Breakfast with how loud her sister screams it.

“What?”

“Have you seen my phone?” Christian sighs, leaning over the table that she was sat at to grab Luisa’s phone that was on the other side, holding it out for her sister. Luisa manoeuvres her wheelchair to the side of the table, “Thank you!”

“Welcome.” Christian mutters, leaning her chin back onto the palm of her hand as she scrolls through the Lodge’s booking system.

The booking system, apart from a few weekend bookings from the odd elderly couple, was completely empty. September was always quite a slow time of the year for the Lodge, and the sisters had found that out the hard way last year, during their first year of being open, when nobody booked anything for the entire month. From what Christian remembers, there were only two walk-in customer’s during the month and they only stayed for a night or so. The fact that they only had two bookings didn’t cause her to worry as much as she did the year prior though, because they had just had the biggest summer that they could ever imagine, and it was only their second year of fully being in business.

It had always been Luisa Flores’ dream to own her own Bed and Breakfast, but Christian had never, ever thought that she would be right beside her when she did it, but, she wouldn’t change it for the world now — she really wouldn’t.

Four years ago the sisters were coming home in the back of a taxi after going out for the night with their friends. They were drunk, but they weren’t driving and they never would whilst intoxicated, but they soon found out halfway through their journey that not everyone is the same. The driver hit the taxi that the Flores sisters were in on the right side as they drove through a junction, and completely destroyed Luisa and the driver’s side of the car. Christian doesn’t remember much from the accident apart from seeing a flashing light from the right side of her and then waking up in a hospital bed with her neck in a neck brace.

All she could think about was whether or not her sister was alive, and when none of the doctors would answer her Christian felt her entire world crumble around her. Even when her parents came, all they had been told was that Luisa had been rushed into emergency surgery and a doctor would be with them after to explain what was going on. Whilst they were waiting, Christian’s doctor came in and explained that she was going to have a scan and some x-rays to check that everything was alright with her. The results came back that Christian had three broken ribs and that her right arm had been fractured in three different places, but apart from that it was all cuts and bruises and she would make a full recovery.

Luisa, on the other hand, hadn’t been so lucky. Due to the car hitting them on her side, it had done unimaginable damage that Christian could only wish to take away from her sister. Luisa had lost one of her legs in the accident and lost all movement in the other, causing her to be wheelchair bound for the rest of her life. It changed their lives forever, and all Christian could ever think was that she should’ve sat on that side, not her sister.

If the accident did anything to their family, it brought them closer together. They had been talking one night whilst watching Gossip Girl for the thousandth time and Christian had brought up that when they were younger, all Luisa would ever talk about was owning her own Bed and Breakfast in the Lake District. At first, Luisa had dismissed the idea and said that it wouldn’t ever work because of her wheelchair and not being able to walk but if anything, it actually meant that Christian had more of a fire up her arse to make it happen for her sister. A lot of the things that Luisa wanted to do with her life she couldn’t anymore, but this thing, with Christian’s help, she could do.

They found the building that Little Lodge is now in a few months after deciding that they were going to start up their Bed and Breakfast and with help from their parents, they managed to get a deposit down and also managed to get themselves a mortgage. Before they knew it, they were opening their own little Bed and Breakfast.

It was a stressful experience at first, and Christian can’t lie and say that it isn’t stressful a lot nowadays as well, but it was certainly worse at the beginning. The majority of the time, Luisa did the front of house and Christian did everything else because it was just easier for the two of them and the dynamic of the Lodge. There was the odd time that the two of them would change their roles just to fit the situation but that was usually it. Christian loved the dynamic that they had created in Little Lodge more than anything else in her life. It was her new home, and she would never give it up, never.

“Have you heard anything from mamá about abuela?” Luisa asks after a few minutes or so, closing her phone and dropping it down onto her lap.

“No.” Christian shakes her head, swirling in the desk-chair that she was sat in so that she was facing her older-sister, “Mamá said that she’d message if there were any updates but I haven’t heard anything. Papá said that they’re still waiting for the scan results.”

“That’s shit.” Luisa adds and Christian nods her head, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear, “She had the scan hours ago, didn’t she?”

“Papá said that abuela went in for the scan at around six this morning, and they’ve been waiting and waiting but nothing yet.”

Christian sighs and shrugs her shoulders whilst Luisa shakes her head. Christian and Luisa’s abuela still lived in Seville, where their mother is originally from and she had recently started to get quite sick so their parents decided that it was probably best that the two of them go and visit her for an extended amount of time whilst she had tests done and they figured out what was wrong with her. It was nerve-wracking for the girls, that they weren’t able to be with her family and check that their abuela was okay but they couldn’t leave the Lodge, and they just hoped that their abuela understood that.

“Ay Dios mio.” Luisa shakes her head again, “Mamá must be going out of her mind.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.” Christian shrugs, “We’ve all seen how bad she’s gotten over the past few years. As much as I hate to admit it, I have a suspicion that it isn’t going to be the best news.”

“Christian!” Luisa raises one of her eyebrows as she looks at her younger sister, “Don’t think like that. We have to stay positive.”

Christian raises one of her eyebrows at her sister, “Positive? I’m just telling the truth, Lu.”

“I know you are.” Her sister pushes again, “But don’t you go saying that to mamá, that might be the end for her.”

“Like I would.” Christian leans forward and thumps her sister on the shoulder, but composes herself when she notices the last couple that they have staying in the Lodge for the summer make their way to the desk to check out. Luisa raises one of her eyebrows at Christian, who just responds to her sister with a roll of her eyes.

As the couple walk towards the front of the desk, Christian swivels around in her chair so that she’s facing the front again and offers them a large smile, “Morning, how are you both? Did you sleep well?”

“We did, thank you.” The man responds walking over and placing the keys to their room down on the counter, “Sad to be leaving, that’s for sure.”

“We’re sad to see you go, too.” Christian offers them a sad smile whilst she tries to find their booking on the system, “But I’m sure we’ll see you again, yeah?”

“Yeah, you certainly will.” The man laughs and Christian nods her head.

Christian sends their receipt to print and holds her hand out, waiting for the sheets to come out. Once they have, she staples their version together, and the Lodge’s versions together and opens them to the page they need to sign and passes them a pen.

“Can you sign on the dotted line and date, please?” She asks and the man nods, “It’s just a confirmation of payment and then you’ll get another one when we’ve cleaned the room and sent your deposit back.”

The man nods and signs the two pages before passing them back to Christian. She finishes the process and then gives them their receipt and wishes them a good day and safe travel. That was the last couple to leave the Lodge, and that meant that Summer was officially over and that they wouldn’t see as many customers as they had in a long time, probably not until October Half-Term when all of the schools in England broke up for a week. Once the door had closed behind them, Christian turned back to her sister who was looking at her with a silly smile on her face.

“What?”

“You’ve gotten better at that, you know?” Luisa says, moving forward so that she can slip underneath the desk with Christian, “You stuttered so much when we first opened.”

“That’s just ‘cos I was nervous.” Christian shrugs, “I didn’t want to fuck it up. Now, I don’t care. I don’t think I can fuck anything up.”

“Uh, let's agree to disagree with that one. There’s still things that you’d be able to fuck up. You get too nervous and word-vomit.”

“Thanks for reminding me of that, Lu. I really appreciate it.”

“Hey.” Luisa knocks Christian’s shoulder with hers, “What are sisters for?”

As far as a sibling relationship went, Christian and Luisa were as close as sisters could be. This had been both before and after the accident. There were only two years between them, and Christian sometimes wondered whether or not it was how close the two of them were in age that meant they were so close. They would do everything together when they were younger, and of course they had arguments and fought at little things that didn’t matter but at the end of the day they were still sisters. That was certainly one of the reasons why they made it through sorting out the Lodge without killing each other, because Christian doesn’t believe they’ve ever argued as much as they did when they were trying to sort the Lodge out, but they made it through without actually hitting one another which is better than they could say for before the accident.

They were minding their business when the computer pinged. It was loud, and it caused the two of them to sit up and stare at the screen with their eyebrows furrowed.

“Is that—?” Luisa asks.

“— I don’t know.” Christian leans forward and places her hand on the mouse, moving so that she could close the tab that she had opened and move to the booking-system app, which had been the one to make the noise.

“Has someone booked?” Luisa looked just as confused as Christian was and when she looked at the system, she saw that someone had actually booked.

As Christian flickered her eyes over the booking her mouth parted open in shock, “Holy shit.”

“What? What is it?” Luisa moves closer to Christian and focuses her eyes on the screen, “Ay Dios mio.”

Not only had someone booked in September of all months, but they had booked for the entire month. At first Christian thought that her eyes had been deceiving her and that this wasn’t the case at all. The more that she looked at the booking, the more that she realised that it was real and someone actually had booked to stay at their Lodge in the month of September.

“Holy Fuck.” Christian couldn’t help the profanities as they slipped from her lips, then parting in shock when she finally read the full confirmation.

Christian had expected to see that the booking would be for a few days, probably three at most, but when she saw that it was for the entire month. The entire fucking month, she felt her heart stop. Whoever this person was, H.Styles as the booking says, wanted to come and stay at their Lodge for the entire month. The most they’ve ever had was a week before, and that was during the height of summer when the kids were off school. To say that the two sisters were in shock would certainly be an understatement.

“Is this a joke?” Luisa asks, obviously just as dumbfounded as Christian at what she was looking at, “This can’t be real.”

“It looks like it.” Christian starts to scroll through the information that had been given, “The email, card. Everything.”

“You search him on Insta, I’ll do Facebook.”

Christian immediately takes her phone out and opens Instagram, typing in H.Styles to see if anything comes up, but it doesn’t. No matter how much Christian scrolls through all of the profiles that come up from the search as well. At the same time, one of these profiles could be of the person coming to stay at their Lodge in the next few days, Christian just didn’t know. After she closed her phone and placed it face down on the table, she looked up at Luisa who had her face too close to the screen of her own phone as she looked at something.

“Think you’ve found him?” Christian asks, leaning over her sister's shoulder to look at the profile that she was on.

“I don’t know.” Luisa mumbles, passing her phone to her sister, “Maybe this could be him.”

The profile that Luisa showed her sister was one of the profiles that look as if they aren’t used at all, but it’s actually just because they have a private account. The profile picture looked to be of a man, maybe around Christian’s age, or maybe Luisa’s but they couldn’t tell because the photo only showed the side of his face. From what Christian could also tell, the photo seemed to have been taken in a museum of some sort, and it looked almost serene.

“Could be.” Christian shrugs her shoulders, “I suppose we’ll know in two days.”

Luisa sighs and drops her head back, “I don’t think I’ll be able to wait that long.”

“Shut it.” Christian shakes her head, thwacking her sister on the shoulder, “Have a little patience. Why do you care anyway?”

“Well excuse me for being curious on who the person is who’s going to feed us in September and October.” Luisa shakes her head before moving herself backwards, “I’m going to check some things with Yani, are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” Christian shrugs her shoulders, giving her a small smile, “Have fun. Let me know if you hear anything about abuela.”

“Same to you.”

Christian gives her sister one last smile as she ventures back inside and towards the kitchen, before she places her attention back onto the booking in front of her. This was certainly going to be one for the record books, whether Christian and Luisa knew that yet or not.

As Christian sat drinking the coffee that she had made herself a few minutes prior, she quickly realised that it probably wasn’t the best idea to drink coffee at a time like this.

Christian’s social anxiety certainly wasn’t as bad as it had been, but it still wasn’t the best. Christian’s mother has said from her being a young child that she can talk for England if it’s to someone who she knows and trusts, but the second that it’s to someone who she doesn’t know and doesn’t feel comfortable with, she’s nervous and awkward and will only speak if she’s spoken to. The accident certainly didn’t help, and for a while Christian only spoke to her family and doctors but she bounced back from that quicker than anyone could have imagined, and she guessed that was because of Little Lodge and how it brought Christian out of her comfort zone.

Just because Christian was better than she had been, it certainly didn’t mean that she was completely cured because that wasn’t the case, not even a little bit. She would still fumble on her words, albeit not as much as she used to, but it would still happen. More often than not Christian wouldn’t speak unless she was spoken to and she tries her hardest to stay away from social situations that she knew would stress her out, because that wasn’t good for anyone.

One of the little worries that she had picked up since opening the Lodge, though, was whenever they had somebody book online and Christian wasn’t distracted enough to not think about it, that would be all that she would think about. Sometimes she would get herself into some quite horrible states worrying about the types of people that were going to walk through their doors, but Christian had to remind herself that speculation isn’t the right thing to do and that she can’t let herself worry like that unless that is actually something to worry about — obviously that doesn’t mean she completely stops doing it.

That was one of the reasons why Christian hadn’t slept at all last night, and why when she woke up this morning she felt the need to make herself a large cup of coffee. The only thing was that the more caffeine that the girl drank, the more that her heart started to beat faster within her chest. At this moment in time, Christian didn’t know if it was more nerves or excitement that H.Styles was arriving today.

“You look like death.” Luisa says, as she stops her chair in front of the reception desk.

“Good morning to you too, Luisa.” Christian says sarcastically, lifting her eyes up from the screen to look directly at her sister, “Did you sleep well? Are you excited for today? How are you?”

“Yeah, yeah I get it.” She shakes her head and places her hands on the desk, “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“As you lovingly pointed out, I look like death, so no, I didn’t.” Christian explains, unable to stop herself from letting out a large yawn.

“You need to sleep, Chris.” Luisa shakes her head, “I get that you worry but it certainly isn’t worth losing sleep over.”

“I know.” Christian offers her sister a small smile, “I’m not gonna be able to ever stop doing it, I hope you know that.”

“I know.” Luisa nods her head, “And I’m sure you know that I’m going to keep telling you that you look like death.”

Christian grins, “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

Luisa’s phone pings before she can say anything else, and Christian knows that it’s probably time for her to leave. Luisa and her girlfriend, Elsa, have had this day planned as their date day for a long time, and Christian wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of their day.

Luisa and Elsa have been together for three years now. They met when Luisa went away to Sweden for a few weeks with her friends from school. Elsa had been visiting her family and they met through a confusing line of mutual friends that Christian had very little interest in learning about. All Christian cared about was that her sister was happy, and if Elsa was the person to do that then that was all Christian wanted in life. When the accident happened, Luisa had been worried that Elsa wouldn’t want to be with her anymore, and no matter how many times Christian reassured her sister that Elsa wouldn’t do that and that she loved her, Luisa just believed that wasn’t the case. As Christian had reassured her sister, Elsa didn’t leave. In fact, Elsa did everything that she could to help Luisa.

For Christian, Luisa and Elsa were the epitome of what she wanted in life. She wanted someone to look at her the way they look at each other, and love her like they love each other.

“El’s here.” Luisa grinned as she looked at her sister again, “Are you sure you’re going to be okay? We can stay if you want, go out later.”

“No!” Christian exclaimed, shaking her head, “You’re not cancelling because of this. I’ll be fine. You two enjoy yourself.”

Luisa looks at her sister and raises one of her eyebrows, “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.”

“Completely positive?”

“Luisa!” Christian exclaims, shaking her head, “Go to your girlfriend, everything will be fine.”

“Okay.” Christian stood up and made her way towards her sister, pressing a kiss to her cheek and then making her way over to the door and opening it for her. Christian can see Elsa’s car parked at the end of the street and she smiles at the sight, “I’ll see you later. Message me if you need me.”

“Will do. Have fun.”

Christian watches for a little while longer, just checking that Luisa actually makes it to Elsa. Once she sees the car door open and Elsa steps out, Christian takes it as her cue to go back inside. There aren’t any guests staying at the Lodge at this exact time, so it feels a little odd to Christian that someone will be coming tonight and that they’re going to be staying for the entire month, and be the only guest that they have for a while.

Yesterday, seeing as though it was the only day that Christian had been given to prepare, she made a start on deciding which room she was going to give H.Styles and started to get it ready. Luisa had spent the day at reception so that Christian could do that, only face-timing her every once in a while so that she could see what Christian was doing to the rooms.

A part of Christian often felt guilty when it came to the two rooms that were on the upper floor of the Lodge. They were the largest and fanciest rooms in Christian’s opinion, but due to the narrow staircase Luisa had never been able to go up and see them in real life so she had to settle for Christian’s shaky camera work on facetime.

Christian had to choose between rooms Seda and Luz which were both nice for different reasons. She supposes that she is biased because she designed these rooms and helped decorate them more as her own than the rooms downstairs. Due to Luisa not being able to go up to decorate the rooms, Christian had basically been given free reign of the rooms to do whatever she wanted with them. When it came to the names of the rooms, Seda and Luz, which mean silk and light in Spanish, Christian knew that she wanted to incorporate some form of each of the words into the decoration of the room.

When it came to Seda, Christian made the main colour combination in the room a dark grey and peach colour and incorporated the silk in with the curtains and the cushions that were used as decoration. Everything matches and isn’t too cluttered in the rooms, which is one of the things that Christian loves about being able to decorate her own rooms. The second room, Luz, she decided to make the accents in the room navy blue, including an accent wall which was a pain in Christian’s arse to paint, but once it was finished it really did bring the room together. The vocal point of the room, though, had to be the different exposed light bulbs that light up the room: there were three on the ceiling, and other lamps assorted throughout the room.

Christian had ended up cleaning and making sure that both rooms were adequate. She changed the sheets, hoovered, placed down fresh towels, dusted and did basically everything else that she could to not only distract herself but make the rooms ready for when H.Styles arrived.

Luisa always used to say, whenever they spoke about the Bed and Breakfast that she were going to own before the accident happened, that she reckoned that the cleaning and the upkeep portion would be the worst and for a while Christian thought the same, but she quickly came to realise that truly wasn’t the case. Christian loved to clean and make sure that everything was tidy for whenever the guests arrived and after having a little more thought about it, Christian believed that the reason she enjoyed cleaning was because it gave her time to relax and not think about everything else in her life. She often had her headphones on with music playing, or maybe even a podcast every now and then. Christian couldn’t exactly pinpoint the exact moment in her life where she became an old woman, but she couldn’t say that she minded.

She decided that the best thing that she could do is wait until H.Styles arrived for her to make any decisions about which room she thought would be the best. Of course, Christian wouldn’t know anything about him by just checking him in she would at least be given a slight indication of which room he may enjoy more.

Christian had no idea what time H.Styles would be arriving, and that was one of the things that was creating a bit of suspense. She was checking their books and making sure everything was in line and at any given second he could arrive and she would meet the person who had booked to stay there for the entire month. Christian believed that maybe that was why she spent a lot of her time wondering about who was coming to stay with them, because who would need to stay in their little corner of the Lake District for that amount of time, who would need to do that?

If there was one thing that Christian certainly wasn’t doing it was complaining. This man, whoever he was and for whatever reasons he was doing this, would be paying their bills and giving them enough money to keep themselves going for a little while longer, or at least until October Half-Term.

Christian quickly learnt that there wasn’t going to be much for her to do but sit and wait, and due to her being on her own in the Lodge, she saw no issues with connecting her phone to her speakers and blasting out music into the room. Luisa always said that Christian had a weird taste in music, but Christian just said that it was eclectic.

The thing about Christian, especially when it came to her music, was that she listened to everything. If someone recommended a song, she’d listen to it, and if she liked that song then she’d listen to it again and again. She would never say that she wouldn’t listen to a song just because it’s country, or that she doesn’t like this artist very much so she won’t listen to it either. If a song is a good song, and she likes it, then she’d listen to it. That did mean that Christian’s playlists were a little all over the place, and no matter how hard she tried to organise them, it just wasn’t possible.

Don’t Go Breaking My Heart by Elton John was the song blasting through the speakers at this time, a classic if Christian said so herself. She had done everything work wise that she needed to do, so she spent her time reading one of the books that she had picked up from the bookstore in the village: one about love, death and everything in between. It was good, but it wasn’t one of her favourites, but she’d definitely finish reading it just to see how it ended.

She was completely submerged in the words on the page, and the words floating around her ears when the door opened. In fact, she hadn’t noticed the man walking closer to the desk until she saw movement from over the pages of her book which caused her lips to part open in shock slightly. Her eyes flickered to the time on the computer, and it read that it was just past one in the afternoon, and she was shocked to say the least that he was already there.

Christian abandoned her book and threw it down, hoping that she’d at least get to remember where she was in the book because the pages had closed, and clicked her phone on so she could pause the music. Her eyes then flickered up to the man who was standing above her, and she couldn’t help her lips parting as she then looked him up and down. She was trying not to stare, she really was, but she wasn’t doing a very good job of it to say the least.

From what Christian could see, he was wearing a denim flat-cap on his head with brown curls peeking out of the bottom. He was also wearing sunglasses over his eyes, but she watched him take them off and they were now placed on the top of the reception desk. She could only see just under his chest, but he was wearing a red and blue striped shirt and a blue jacket. Christian couldn’t help but wonder whether or not he liked the colour blue, since he was wearing quite a lot of it.

“Hi.” Christian couldn’t help the sheepish smile that crossed her lips as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “Sorry about that, how can I help you?”

“M’Harry.” The man says, shrugging his shoulders slightly as he does so. Harry, “I made a booking a few days ago, I’m here to check in.”

Christian nods her head, “I’ll just get that up for you."

She wiggles the mouse to wake the computer up and quickly types in the password so that their systems come back up. Christian’s a little embarrassed to say the least that their systems weren’t already up but she wasn’t expecting him to arrive yet, so she hadn’t prepared for it. Once the system is loaded up and she has his booking, she offers him another smile.

One of the things that Christian had prepared though was the bill that he has to sign beforehand with the deposit on it that states that he’ll get the deposit money back if the room is left unharmed.

“Can you sign and date on the dotted line, please?” She asks, giving him the sheet of paper and a pan. She watches as he signs H.Styles, in a beautiful penmanship if she does say so herself, and then passes back to her.

She clicks a few more buttons on the computer before opening the drawer and starting to flicker through the keys, “One room, for thirty nights.”

Christian tries to hide the shock in her voice when she says how long he’s staying but she certainly doesn’t do a good job of it. As Christian flickered through the keys, she finally landed on the one that she had been waiting for, the one for Luz. It seemed like an obvious choice in Christian’s mind when she saw what he was wearing to pick Luz, so that’s the one she decided upon.

“That’s right.” Harry nods his head.

“Great.” Christian sighs with a smile on her face, trying her hardest not to make the situation more awkward than it was, “I’ll, uh, show you to your room.”

He nods his head and she watches as he picks up the suitcases that she hadn’t even noticed he had with him and followed her towards the staircase. She was starting to feel a little uncomfortable at the fact that he was walking behind her, watching her and she couldn’t see what his face looked like. That was certainly why, and not because she had noticed that he had quite the handsome face.

Once she made it up to Luz, and she had turned the light switch on so that they wouldn’t be fumbling around in the dark trying to find where they were going, she used the key in her hand to open the door. Christian walked in first, just because there wasn’t enough room on the narrow landing for them both to stand and manoeuvre around each other — Christian had learnt that the hard way.

She placed the key on the cabinet in the room, and then turned to look at Harry who had just placed his suitcases down on the ground. He looked around the room for a little while and then moved to the window, looking out before turning to Christian.

“It’s lovely.”

Christian nodded her head in thanks, “Breakfast is from seven to nine everyday in the conservatory. I’ll, uh, leave you to get settled in and I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you.”

The second Christian walks out of the room and closes the door behind her, she lets out a sigh of relief that she hadn’t even known she had been holding.

Christian messaged Luisa that he had arrived but she received no reply. She didn’t think too much of it, because she knew that whenever Elsa and Luisa were together they were so completely obsessed with each other that nothing can distract them. Luisa knows though that if she doesn’t give Christian an update of their whereabouts by five then Christian would start to worry — they had four hours before Christian would start to worry.

For a little while Christian didn’t put her music back on, and she listened to the creeks of the ceiling as Harry moved around above her.

He didn’t give anything away of who he was, or why he was there but at the same time Christian made no indication of wanting to know anything. If Luisa would have been here when he arrived, that would probably be a completely different story. Luisa would’ve gotten some information out of him, Christian knew it for certain. She wondered who he was, and what he was doing here, but she wouldn’t ask him.

When the creeks of the ceilings stopped and there wasn’t anything else for Christian to listen to, she turned her music back on and picked up her book. It took her a while to locate where she was, having just thrown it on the side earlier when she noticed that he was there but she soon found the page she was up to. The words, as much as Christian tried to digest them, just weren’t going into her head in the way that they had been.

Christian wasn’t playing the music as loud as she had been earlier, mainly because she wanted to hear and listen when he started moving again, and when he eventually came downstairs. He had to come down at some point, seeing as though he had to eat and even though they serve breakfast at the Lodge, they don't serve lunch or dinner just yet. It was something that Christian and Luisa had been looking into, but it takes more work than they could have ever imagined to make something like that work.

Around two hours after Harry first arrived, she heard movement upstairs and towards the landing that caused her heart to skip a beat. Christian quickly turned her music off, and managed to place her bookmark in her book before he walked into the reception. She tried not to make it obvious and she placed her hand on the mouse of her computer as though she had been doing something, but she wasn’t the best actress and she was sure that it was completely obvious what she had been doing.

He gave her a smile as he walked into the room and towards the desk, and she tried not to seem awkward when she gave him one back but she was sure that she’d failed at that too.

“Is everything okay?” She asks, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

He nods his head, “Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just. . . I was just wondering whether you had any recommendations of places to eat.”

“Oh, uh, I do know of some good places.” She nods her head, “What food do you like? Then I know what to recommend.”

“I’ll eat anything, to be honest.” He chuckles, a smile crossing his lips. He had dimples.

“Uh, well, there’s a good Italian restaurant about a mile from here.” Christian shrugs, “I can call you a taxi, if you would like.”

“No, it’s fine.” He shrugs, “Have you got the postcode? Or some directions.”

“Yeah, it’s just down the road.” She points to the left, “If you go over the bridge and just follow the road for a mile or so, you can’t miss it. It’s called Galileo’s.”

“Thank you.” He smiles and turns to walk towards the door.

He opens the door and then moves to the side, stopping his actions. Christian furrows her eyebrows as she watches everything unfold. Luisa and Elsa walk through the opened door, smiling at Harry as they do so before turning to look at Christian with wide eyes. The two of them look over their shoulder and watch as the door shuts behind Harry as he leaves, and their eyes immediately fall to Christian again who’s looking at them with her teeth clamped firmly on her bottom lip.

“Oh. My. God.” Luisa slowly makes her way towards Christian, stopping when she’s finished saying the last word, “You failed to mention in your message that the man was basically a Greek God, Christ Christian.”

“Do you really think that me of all people would say that?” Christian sighs and shakes her head.

Elsa shakes her head, “Chris wouldn’t say that, Lu. You know that.”

Luisa accepts her girlfriend’s hand on her shoulder with a kiss, “Doesn’t mean it’s any less true though. Did he tell you anything?”

“His name is Harry.”

Luisa doesn’t blink as she looks at her sister, “That’s it? That’s all he said?”

“That’s all he said.” Christian nods her head, “He just came down to ask for a recommendation of places to eat and I told him to go to Galileo’s.”

“Jeez.” Elsa sucks a breath through her teeth and shakes her head, “Galileo’s? On the first night? Are you sure?”

“Galileo is harmless.” Christian shakes her head.

“He’s a nutcase.” Luisa sighs, shaking her head.

“He’s not.” Christian pouts, “He’s not around me, anyway.”

Elsa laughs and sits down on one of the couches that rest against the wall of the reception, “If he survive’s Galileo’s then he’ll survive staying here for an entire month, that’s for sure.”

“Hey!” Luisa whines, “We’re not that bad.”

“I’m not bad.” Christian’s quick to say after her sister, “You are though.”

“I’d watch your tone if I were you, missy.” Luisa says, lifting her hand up and pointing one of her fingers at her sister, “I’m still the older one in this situation.”

Elsa furrows her eyebrows and looks at her sister, “Are you sure about that?”

“Shut it, you.” Luisa shakes her head, turning her attention back to her sister, “If I were you, I’d just keep an eye on him. See if you can figure out anything about him.”

“I’m not going to stalk him, Luisa!”

“I wasn’t telling you to stalk him!” She exclaims back, “I was just telling you to observe, like a good host would.”

Elsa furrows her eyebrows from behind her girlfriend, “It sounds a lot like stalking to me.”

Luisa shakes her head, “I hate you both.”

Christian grins and tilts her head to the side, “You love us really.”

Although Christian would never admit it, watching and listening seemed like quite a good way of figuring out who this man was and why he was here. She wasn’t going to be stalking him though, just observing.

#first part of feels like home!! eek!!#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles x ofc #harry styles x oc #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles series #series

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step-on-me-natasha · 3 years

Text

Blade; chapter 3

summary: Parker "Blade" Wiles, a high ranking SHIELD agent with an aptitude for sharp objects, goes missing. When Blade is found again with a darker and colder demeanor, SHIELD, with the help of The Avengers, are tasked with finding out what happened to their colleague and friend.

OC is ace and uses they/them pronouns

pairing: Natasha Romanoff x OC! reader

warnings: needles (IVs), let me know if there are any others

RECAP:

“I'm doing the thing Florence Wiles could never do.” The room went silent. All the lab assistants stopped working. Everyone just stared at the two of you.

“Knock her out and put em’ under, I don't have time for this.” Madam barks and for the second time that day, everything went black.

*Meanwhile at the Avengers Compound

After the mission, the rest of the team got off the jet while Natasha stayed behind. Still in your seat, her eyes scan the room and land on your journal. She chuckles to herself because only you would have a bright purple journal. She knows she shouldn’t look through it but she does anyway. As she’s reading through the two entries, her vision starts to get blurry. She wipes her eyes and stands up and walks off the jet straight to her room.

“Hey Nat! How’d-”

“Not now Clint.” She snaps. She practically runs to her room and slams the door as she starts to cry. She sits down at her desk, turns to the next blank page in the journal, finds a pen and starts writing.

Hi Blade, it’s Nat, I know when you see this, because you will see it, that you’ll probably be mad at me for snooping but it was something i felt i needed to do. Your last words to me before you disappeared were “dont worry about me, I got this.” and part of me believed it. Foolish of me. I should’ve stayed with you. I know you're strong and capable and smart and you’ve been in a situation like that before, but god damnit I should’ve gone with you! Bucky thinks it's HYDRA, Tony thinks it's what's left of the Red Room. Men, ugh, So dumb. HYDRA has been wiped off the face of the earth and the Red Room is, as i said, retired widows living the life they deserved. I think it's something or rather someone else. Who it is, I don't know. But enough of this, I'm not here to write about who took you, I don't know why I'm writing. But, and I quote, “here goes nothing.”

The first day you walked into the compound, scowling face and all, I knew something was special about you. You stormed into the conference room, like you always do, and plopped in the chair you claimed your own. When everyone else joined you in the room you didn’t even look up until someone said your name and coughed. You stood up, said your name was Blade and sat back down. It was pretty funny if Steve “stick up his ass” Rogers wasn’t in the room. Something, I think Clint, said to “show your power” or something like that, and you walked out of the room and everyone followed you to the new high tech training room. You then found a bow staff, broke it in half, had Tony load the most advanced training sequence. You set a record, with the broken staff, in that training session, curtsied, and walked out the room.

Anyways, that's not what this is about, I wanted to write this to let you know that we, the team, are here for you. We care about you. I care about you. So, on that note, you better get your ass back here so we can eat some garlic bread and watch some shitty reality TV.

Love, Natahsa

She stares at her note for a little while, thinking about what she could’ve done to save you, to have you here with her. But instead of you being with the team, with her, you quite possibly, could be dead. She can’t think about that right now. She wipes her tears, closes the journal and gets ready to take a shower. After her shower she gets dressed in shorts, a hoodie and a pair of fuzzy socks. She makes her way out of her room to get something to eat while Clint slides in front of her.

“What's up with you? You got Barnes' broody scowl going on.” He says with a mouthful of food.

“That's cold Clint”

“shut up Barnes, you know it’s true.” He shouted back. “Anyways, seriously, is something wrong?”

“They’re gone Clint. They are gone and we don't know where they are.”

“Who?”

“Are you fucking serious Clint? Blade! Blade is gone! And we have no clue where they are or if they're alive! And you're making jokes right now?!” Her eyes start watering again.

“Oh no Nat, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't know Blade was missing, I thought I saw them walk in.” He says as he pulls her into a hug.

At that moment, Nat lets herself cry. She balls up the front of his shirt and just breaks down. “They’re gone, Clint, and I don't know what to do!” She says through her tears.

“Nat what do you need me to do? Let me help.”

“Find her Clint! Unbreak your arm and fucking find her!’ She cries.

*At the old HYDRA base

After the group of scientists knock you out, again, they put you in an armoured truck, with many following behind, to transfer you from this old base to the new MYST headquarters.

“Madam, what are we supposed to do with the new asset?”

“Tie them up. And make sure that it’s secured, we don't need it escaping again.” Madam orders.

The ride is long and bumpy and these scientists have been pumping you full of fluids and unknown liquids. Pull up to a gate with a pin pad. Madam gets out, puts a passcode in and the gates open up. They pass through the threshold and into what looks like a parking garage. They park the truck and roll you out.

“Hey, hey what's going on?” You say as you start to wake up.

“Ugh, someone take care of this! They woke up again!” Madam yells.

“Hey, no hey! Let's not do this again!” You say.

“That's not an option sweetheart”

“And why is that? Huh? I don't know what you want, other than a winter soldier”

“I want what HYDRA took from me.” She says “Knock her out and start over! We will begin testing strength tomorrow morning!” Madam says as she walks away.

“God, what a bitch.” a scientist mutters under her breath. Heh heh, I like this one.

“I know, at least you're not the one tied to a bed” You say back.

She gasps, “you weren’t supposed to hear that” “Well, I am a well trained spy and assassin, you learn how to pick up on small sounds.” you chuckle.

“Yeah well, still.” She says harshly. “Youre only here for one thing, and it’s my job not to fuck that up, so you weren’t supposed to hear that.” She says as she injects you with more unknown liquid.

You wake up in a new room, tied to a bed this time. Upgrades people, upgrades. Your eyes scan the room and land on two IVs dripping; one blue and one purple. I am going to die here.

“Ahh, you're awake.” Your head snaps to the right.

“Super soldier serum,” She nodded towards the IVs. “Whatever was left of what HYDRA perfected it, I got the last of it when it fell in 2014.” Madam starts.

“What's that purple shit?” You interrupt.

“That purple shit? Really? I've been working on that for years and the best you can do is ‘that purple shit’? Really?” A small scientist comes out from behind Madam.

“Oh sorry, I should be more sensitive, what is that weird ass purple liquid that is being pumped into me?”

“You're a rude person.”

“Yeah well, I'm currently strapped to a bed with strange liquid being pumped into me. I'm obviously not thrilled about it!” You shout.

“Okay, enough! You two are children!'' Madam yells. Children (derogatory).

“The purple stuff is a concentrated metabolism booster. It makes you heal 3x faster than just the super soldier serum. It makes you basically invincible.”

“Oh cool, does it give me laser eyes like Superman too?” wrong universe, shit.

“You are insufferable!” The small scientist exclaims.

“Thanks, it’s my main character trait.” You sass back.

“Oh my god, shut up already!” Madam yells. “Dr. Nichols, you go prep the room while I handle the new asset.” New asset? Get a better name.

You roll your eyes and scoff as the small scientist storms out of the room.

“Got something to say sweetheart?”

“No no, you do your thing”

“In about-” She checks her watch, “10-15 minutes, you’ll have a small device inserted into the back of your neck, specifically at the base of your skull.”

“Sounds painful”

“It is. The device will expand and it will attach to your brain, causing me to be in control.”

oh shit.

“Cat got your tongue sweetheart?” You stay silent. “Well, nice chat! I'll see you later!”

She leaves the room as your eyes start to water. Oh my god. There is no way I'm getting out of this. As you sit there, waiting for what’s going to come next, nats face pops into your head. And the fact that there is a chance that you’ll never see her again, talk to her, touch her again, makes the tears threatening to fall, fall.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #Natasha Romanoff x ace!raeder #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #black widow fluff #black widow #black widow x ace!reader #black widow imagine #marvel x reader #marvel x ace!reader

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luxshine · 3 years

Text

Supernatural and the Dark Tower... Or how some writers are better gods than others.

The Dark Tower, by Stephen King, has a very interesting take on endings at the end of the seven book long journey Roland the Gunslinger took to reach the title Dark Tower. I was going to write it all but it’s about two pages long, and if you haven’t read the books it may not make much sense. However, the main take is that there is no such thing as happy endings, but there are endings that are happy enough. That the ending he gave us, with Roland reaching the tower, and Susannah meeting Eddie and Jake in Central Park is one of those, and that if we, his Constant Readers, go on reading the last pages of the Coda, we will be “disappointed, perhaps even heartbroken”. That “Endings are heartless. Ending is just another word for goodbye.”

I keep thinking about those lines when I think of Supernatural’s 15x19 and 15x20.

15x19 is not a perfect ending. I mean, we’re still missing people, Jack saying he’ll be hands off is not really nice, and Cas is still in the Empty. BUT we have hope. The Brothers are free. And just as we can imagine (And King tells us it might happen) how Susannah and Eddy and Jake may meet a dog version of Oy (If you’ve read the books, it makes sense. If not, well, just trust me that it is a happy situation), we can picture Dean hitting the books, and he and Sam finding a way to get Castiel back, human or angelic depending on your preferred tea, and Sam reuniting with Eileen. And afterwards? Well, you decide. Whatever happens, we still have hope.

It’s not Happily Ever After, but as King says, it’s good enough. We could’ve stopped there and pick our own ending. But of course, there’s still 15x20. And when we saw it, we were certainly disappointed, even if we weren’t heartbroken (I was, but I digress)

Just as King warned us not to keep going in the Dark Tower Coda, someone should’ve warned us not to keep going to the end of Supernatural. And here, doing a full circle on the meta, I warn you that if you keep reading, I will go on spoilers for The Dark Tower AND Supernatural (Of course, if you got to Supernatural 15x20 and are heartbroken over it… you probably remember what happened in seasons 4, 5 and 9 so … those wouldn’t be spoilers)

If you’re still with me, I am sorry, I am about to go on a long, long diatribe about how the Dark Tower is an amazing meta tale, even if the end made me cry in public for the first time in years while reading a book. And how Supernatural, by accident or by intent, tried to do the same and kind of went the wrong way in Albuquerque when it could’ve been a lot better.

Yes, Supernatural could’ve been better than a Stephen King book, and that coming from me is high, HIGH praise.

See, The Dark Tower is a tale about well, a lot of things, but in the axis, in the tower, so to speak, is a tale about tales. About stories and how we relate to fiction and about how we, the readers, relate to fiction. Of course, this is REALLY subtextual, since the actual story is about a sort of medieval cowboy traveling across dimensions to save the axis of existence.

It’s a complicated series of books.

In any case, around book 6, Roland, our cowboy, ends up in the real world. Our real world. And he meets Stephen King, OUR Stephen King (Well, a douchier version of King, to be fair), who upon being confronted by his own characters has a big ego boost and declares himself a god.

Pretty much like Chuck did back in the Monster at the End of the Book, except that there, he changed his mind pretty quickly and went back to his “meek prophet” disguise. King didn’t, by the way, and Roland left that world even LESS impressed than the Winchesters with their own author.

Now, we all know that at the End of season 5, it so happened that Chuck WAS God, and we got confirmation back in season 9 when he still liked fan fiction and his characters, apparently, until he went all megalomaniac “I am a God and I can destroy you if you don’t follow my plot”… thing is? King did the opposite.

See, The characters had to go back to the real world to save King from a drunk truck driver that ran over him in real life. In the book, one of the characters even sacrifices himself for it. But now, King is no longer so full of himself that he thinks he’s a god and he deserves said sacrifice. He admits he, as a writer, is only telling the story that the real god, in this case Gan, lets him see. He only has keys to peek through doors of reality, and what he writes, is what he sees. Not what he wants, not what he thinks is better, but what the CHARACTERS want.

So yeah, the opposite of Chuck.

But then, The Dark Tower goes a bit further. Once again, comparing ends, the End of Supernatural left us empty because it WAS a Goodbye. A bad one too as it left us with absolute no hope (except for those fix it fics where Dean goes and finds out why his angel is ghosting him in Heaven, for fucks sake, and Sam’s blurry face wife is Eileen, but those are FICS. Not the story). The story ends with Sam and Dean dead, in a Heaven that may be as well Earth-lite as far as we know, but we have no real way of knowing if it’s not just a bigger version of the original “repeat your happy memories ad nauseaum”

No change, no free will. No to be Continued, no hope of a better life. Just… End. Bye. Nothing more to see.

The end to the Dark Tower is equally heartbreaking ,but at the same time, a bit more hopeful.

Because in that universe, characters whose stories end? If they keep going, they go back to the beginning. Not to the beginning of time, or of their lives but to the Beginning of THEIR Story. For one brief moment they know this is happening, that they’re back in that first opening sentence, that they will have to suffer through all of it again UNCHANGING and all the joy will happen, but also all the sadness. All the tragedy. And then they forget. And the story starts again, because the story is a book, and a book can only have one plot, one ending, and re-reading it won’t change what happened.

Roland cries and begs for mercy, but the Tower is unmoving and he goes back. We, the Readers, go Back.

EXCEPT

There’s a tiny, small change from the “beginning” we read now, to the beginning we read in the first book. We’re told that the time we read was not the first time, that Roland has done this a thousand times before. But this time, we went with him, so he gets a small change, a tiny thing, but big because, in Roland subconscious, may mean that this time, the story will be different. So we’re left with a tiny bit of hope, despite how badly we were crushed seconds before.

And Supernatural could’ve given us that. Not the same of course, not with Dean or Sam (Let’s be honest, it would’ve been probably Sam, given how much the writer’s room loved him) waking up in the pilot, Remembering all that happened, and knowing that they can’t really change it because it was already written, but then noticing they already have the Colt, or Ruby’s knife. Or perhaps they have the key to the bunker and a map already. That would’ve been too close to comfort for plagiarism so nope.

BUT

We could’ve ended with Billie closing one of her books and telling Dean, the Dean from season 12, that that COULD be how his story ends, and that he now has the choice to make his own ending, that he can either go against Chuck or convince Chuck his ending was crap.

We could’ve ended with Sam convincing Chuck that there’s another road to the ending he wants, as long as he lets them go on. He may be bored of the characters now, but he can always wait for a bit.

With Chuck giving the reins of his world to Becky and the fangirls, really closing on the whole “death of the author” and not ruining a character that, prior to season 15, the fandom loved.

With a thousand of ways that left both the meta world intact, and our hearts hurt, but not broken. Not angry.

(And that is not touching on the usual misogyny, racism, and heteronormative that the ending insisted on reinforcing)

Supernatural could’ve ended with a bang, and become an absolute legend. Instead, it ended with a whimper, and as a cautionary tale.

There’s no such thing as a happy ending, said King. But we could have had a Hopeful one.

#anti supernatural finale #dean deserved better #sam deserved better #castiel deserved better #eileen deserved better #they all deserved better #stephen king #meta #what could've been #what should have been #and no #it has nothing to do with shipping

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volexis · 4 years

Text

moral of the story; akaashi keiji x gn!reader

summary: you never thought falling out of love would be so painful

warning: angst, that’s it I think?

wc: 1.5k

note: general taglist is open, fill out this form if you’d like to be added!

a/n: why is it the first time I write a haikyuu fic it’s angst :,) This is loosely inspired by the song “Moral of the Story” by Ashe, hence the title. It popped into my playlist and here I am an hour later and very heartbroken

"Is everything okay?" You peered over your phone to glance at your lover. He paused midturn, a page of his current novel between his fingers. He hummed absentmindedly after a short pause and continued his reading. It didn’t surprise you in the least. Akaashi Keiji was a blunt man of few, well-placed words. You took it in stride when his witty remarks began to be replaced with measured silences as he eased out of his loud, rambunctious high school years. On the contrary, you praised him for being mature enough to pick and chose his fights. Once this quietude bled into the comfort of your shared apartment, bright afternoons spent lounging together faded into the two of you on opposite sides of the room; awkward stillness punctuated by a lack of eye contact, of any sort of contact at all. He was now a specter, drifting monotonously through daily routines, unfettered in his tranquility. It seemed like he barely noticed your presence anymore.

Akaashi probably hadn’t realized himself but you know him well enough to see the small, subtle changes in the way he acts around you. The all but imperceptible flinching of his shoulders when you would rest your chin on the crown of his head. His fingers would falter at the keyboard but resume just as quickly as they’d stopped, hoping you wouldn’t notice. Praying you wouldn’t notice. No dice. For his sake, maybe more for your own, you’d smile down at him, as sweet as you could muster, and gingerly rest your arms on his shoulders, wrapping around him in an almost awkward embrace.

Before you could linger any longer he’d stand up, unraveling your arms from around him as gently as he could but his fingers felt like needles pricking your skin every time they made contact with you. He’d distract you by asking about day, opting to ramble about his own troubles when you’d say nothing. He took your silence as compliance, disinterest even. There were days where you used to prefer his idle prattling to the dense lull that seemed to plague the time you spent together. Today was not one of them. Bitter words burned holes in your tongue but you wouldn’t send them out into the world, you couldn’t, lest they wound him too.

Even then you’d still look out for him. His passing out on the couch had become an increasingly common occurrence, more so in the last months of your relationship. When you’d ask him about it, he’d brush it off with a simple “I’m sorry, love, I fall asleep here sometimes when I’m working late”. Love. It probably tasted as acrid as it sounded coming from him but you chose not to dwell on it. You tucked the thought away for a sleepless night.

It started with him working late nights with his computer on his lap, furiously typing away at something he wouldn’t let you look at. You’d stay up as long as you could, staring at his side of the bed until you could no longer distinguish the darkness of the room from that behind your eyelids.

On the occasions you’d wake up at odd hours of the night, you’d find him resting calmly on the couch, spread-eagle under the worn blanket you’d gifted him early on in your relationship. You paused to smooth his hair back and kiss his forehead, but you hesitated. He’d taken off his glasses. His computer lay safely on the coffee table, charging and far out of reach from his wayward limbs. “Odd,” you’d mumble to yourself. Instead, you tucked him in, adjusting the cloth so it’d cover more of his body. Then back to bed, back to the darkness, back to an empty room chock full of unanswered questions.

“Does he still love me?” You clutched your phone tightly as you waited with bated breath.

“Of course he does, what makes you think otherwise?” Bokuto was quick to respond, hasty even. His warm voice should’ve soothed your nerves, but it only amplified your worries.

“(Y/N), did he do something?” His voice dramatically lowered in pitch, crawling through your speakers in a gravelly, almost menacing manner. The seriousness in his tone made you jump, this wasn’t something you expected from the usually light-hearted athlete. “If he’s hurt you—”

“Of course he hasn’t, I’m- I don’t even know how to say this, he’s- it’s,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s nothing, I’m probably making a mountain out of a molehill.”

You could practically see him quirking his head to the side in confusion, further emulating the feathered creature he often reminded you of. “I don’t get it.”

You couldn’t hold back the raucous giggles that poured out, Bokuto joining in good-naturedly. You spoke up after your laughter had ceased and allowed you to breathe regularly once more. “Thanks for that, Bo, I really needed it.” A small smile rested on your features, a remnant of the few moments of mirth you’d been able to enjoy in the past few weeks. You hung up and ambled on, oblivious to the lingering presence by the front door. Maybe if you hadn’t called him, if you hadn’t been so distracted, you would’ve heard your boyfriend jostling the door handle that never seemed to want to turn properly. Maybe you would’ve seen the unreadable expression he donned, something akin to hurt mixed with something much more somber.

You chose not to question him when he’d stay out late, later than he’d ever been, not even coming home on some days. If he came back the next morning, he’d be more disheveled than you’d last seen him, though you’d never tell him that you’d noticed. Turning a blind eye to the pain was easier than looking him in the eyes and accepting that the sparkle they once held when he looked at you was now gone. Replaced with something akin to a cautious indifference, perhaps thinly veiled pity.

When he asked you to lunch one day, you were hesitant to acquiesce. Even then, you loved him too much to ever say no. It hurt to think you were holding him back, grasping at threadbare strings that snapped the more you pulled; the more you ached for him to come back to you, to hold you like he used to. He had a certain way of molding himself around you, accommodating for any position you were in, wrapping his arms around your waist in a way that made you melt back into him. You missed it, you missed him, but maybe it was high time you realized he was no longer yours to claim.

He sat down in front of you at a nice café, somewhere breezy and local. You’d been there a couple of times before, it had strong, bracing coffee but you couldn’t quite recall the name of the shop. He was wearing a button-down with slacks. Comfortable, but not enough seeing as he fidgeted with the spring salad he had ordered, picking at the leaves of lettuce all the while glancing up at you and looking away just as quickly. He resembled a high schooler on a first date and you couldn’t fight the anxiousness gnawing at your stomach. The sandwich you had ordered no longer looked as appetizing.

“Kei—”

“Y/N—”

You both laughed out of a mix of awkwardness and relief. The silence had been broken, but at what cost?

“You go first, don’t worry,” you ushered. He nodded and reached for your hands over the table. He hesitated at the last minute, fingers hovering over yours, a queasy expression on his features. His brow crinkled in something akin to disgust, but you knew him well enough to know he was deep in thought. Did you really know him though? How much has changed since the last time the two of you were able to sit down on the couch and cuddle with a mindless show droning on on the tv in front of you? Did he still prefer tea to coffee? Did he still stop by the onigiri shop at corner on his way to work even though it’d make him late? Did he still fidget with his fingers when he was nervous or contemplating something?

You looked down to see his fingers trembling above yours. He was picking at his nails and the skin around them methodically. Something was bothering him and it made the pit in plaguing your stomach grow. One second passed. Then two. At the third, he gripped your fingers with resolve, something you hadn’t seen in him in a long time.

You squeezed back, offering a wary but encouraging smile. This only made him grimace deeply and you almost faltered.

“I have something important to tell you,” he started slowly, sounding out his words as if they were in a foreign language.

“Go ahead then.”

He carefully considered his next sentence but in the back of your mind, you had an aching feeling that you knew exactly what he was going to say. Five words left his mouth in a hushed whisper of decency, regret, or sympathy. You couldn’t tell which one hurt the most.

“I don’t love you anymore.”

“I know.”

#akaashi x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #haikyu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #keiji x reader #haikyuu!! imagine #haikyu!! imagine #haikyuu imagine #haikyu imagine #akaashi imagine #keiji imagine #bokuto koutarou #e: writes

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thewitchandtheassassin · 4 years

Text

That World (Natasha Romanoff x Reader)

Summary: Part two of “Alone With You” happy ending style.

Words: 3171

Warnings: Uh, alcohol, language and some angst? Lemme know if I missed something.

A/N: Holy shit. One hundred percent wasn’t expecting a longer fic to be my coming back fic but this thing had a mind of its own. And, I just really want to thank y’all for sticking around. It means so much and I’m happy to say I think I’ll be staying for a while this time. But either way, WE GOT A NEW STORY HOLY FUCK!

-X-

She knew she shouldn’t have walked out. She knew it wasn’t what she’d wanted, but the words had gotten stuck in her throat and she couldn’t bring herself to let them slide off her tongue. So, instead, she’d taken the coward’s way out and left.

Left you broken just beyond the door closing behind her.

You’d never just been a way to pass time. Well, maybe in the beginning it had started out like that, but after the third time you’d let her in, something warm started creeping into her chest. You’d always assumed multiple people kept her company but the truth was…

There was only you.

She hadn’t meant to keep you in the dark – to make you feel the way you did – but she’d wanted to protect you (or maybe she was protecting herself. Those lines were a little blurred, if she was being honest with herself). She thought letting the distance hold you apart would keep you both safe but all it seemed to do was break hearts.

-X-

Hours became days and before Natasha realized it, it’d been a month since she’d heard you, seen you. She’d ignored it at first – the longing gripping her chest – but it was becoming overwhelming. She was reckless and withdrawn (more than normal). She was snappy and irritable and the team was worried.

“Nat, seriously, what’s going on?” Clint asked, flopping down beside Natasha on the couch in the common room.

Rolling her eyes, Natasha jerked to another page in her book, eyes scanning but not seeing the words printed. “Nothing.”

He reached out, grabbing her wrist calmly. “That’s a lie and we both know it. Talk to me.”

Natasha swallowed drily, fingers flexing around the book in her hands. Her tongue felt like it weighed a million pounds inside her mouth, threatening to suffocate her if she dare speak. A familiar pain traveled through her, the icy memory of the Red Room’s punishments creeping up her veins and pooling in her stomach.

Clint was startled to see tears filling Natasha’s eyes and he ripped the book from her, tossing it aside and gathering her in his arms. One hand stroked her hair while the other kept her close, murmuring soft reassurances to her.

“I fucked up,” Natasha hiccupped. “I-I should’ve stayed. I should’ve told her…”

His brows furrowed but Clint remained silent, waiting for his oldest friend to continue.

“All she wanted was for me to stay and I didn’t,” she whispered. “I never wanted to hurt her.”

Something dawned on Clint. “Is she who you used to go see after missions?” he inquired carefully, ignoring the tension that seemed to stiffen her muscles.

“…yes.”

Nodding, Clint leaned back and brushed a lock of hair from Natasha’s face. “If you’re this upset, you need to go to her. Tell her you regret leaving that night – that you regret leaving her. Wallowing isn’t doing anyone any good,” he advised, smiling sympathetically.

“I’m afraid she won’t forgive me,” she admitted brokenly. “I never told her anything. Not about missions or my life or anything. I kept her so far in the dark that I don’t know how to bring her into the light now.”

“You’ll never know until you talk to her,” Clint said. “If you care about her this much, you need to talk to her. Otherwise it’ll be entirely your own fault that you lost her.” He knew his words were harsh, but she needed to hear them. If he tried sugarcoating it, she’d never leave the couch.

Natasha’s face scrunched as she forced back tears. He was right. As much as she wished he wasn’t, he absolutely was.

“Okay,” she breathed, determination befalling her features. “Okay.”

Clint smiled, patting her shoulder as he stood. “C’mon. I’ll drive.”

-X-

The drive to your apartment was silent aside from the incessant tapping of Natasha’s fingers on her thigh. She was trying to prepare her speech, like she was readying for battle, but she knew the moment she looked into your eyes it’d be useless. This wasn’t something she could sweep under the rug with a seductive look or a sensual kiss. She had to actually talk.

She was going to throw up.

Sudden terror gripped her as they stopped in front of the building. “I can’t do this.”

Clint chuckled and shook his head. “Yes, you can. Go talk to her. I’ll wait here until you say otherwise.”

Bottom lip snagged between her teeth, Natasha inhaled sharply and tossed open the car door before storming inside and up to your floor. With every step her heart thudded a little harder, but she ventured on, blinking sporadically to keep the tears at bay. Fist balled tight, she knocked twice behind rocking on her heels.

Silence.

One…

Two…

Three…

Four…

Natasha’s head tilted. Only stillness greeted her as she stared at the door mocking her. She couldn’t hear anything on the other side, which was bizarre considering your floor creaked just at the entrance.

Her eyebrows nearly touched as she tentatively reached forward and knocked again. It was well past nine at night, so where the hell were you? A nasty thought crossed her thoughts and she faltered. What if you’d already moved on? What if you were on a date? What if they were in there?

The old woman who lived next door peered out of her apartment and stared at her. She could see the emotions warring on the beautiful woman’s face.

“Excuse me, miss,” the woman called, garnering Natasha’s attention. “She’s not there.”

Natasha’s head snapped around. “O-oh. Do you know when she’ll be back?”

The woman’s pursed lips concerned Natasha. “I don’t think you understand, sweetie. She doesn’t live here anymore. Moved out about two weeks ago.”

All the blood drained from Natasha’s face and her lips parted slightly, a deeper concern blossoming in her stomach.

“None of us know where she went either,” she admitted. “We just saw her leave one day and the next, the landlord was trying to find new renters. It’s a shame too. She was lovely. Always helped me with my groceries.”

“She’s…gone?” Natasha repeated slowly, glancing at your door like she expected you to throw it open and laugh at your elaborate joke. This was just a joke…right?

Smiling sadly at Natasha, the old woman studied her. As a former nurse, she’d seen many people walk into her hospital with a similar expression; regret and devastation marring their features, waiting for someone to yell “surprise” or hoping to wake up from a bad dream.

She silently prayed this woman would someday find you and right whatever wrong caused that look; she’d always hated that look.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she mumbled before closing her door, the quiet click sounding like a thunderous boom in Natasha’s ears.

The urge to slump to her knees was crippling but Natasha forced herself upright and staggered out of your (former) building, dragging herself towards Clint’s car. Her fingers felt numb as she gripped the handle, dropping into the passenger seat. She said nothing and he didn’t push.

You were gone.

-X-

Traveling the country had never been something you’d really considered before. You liked having a steady home, steady relationships – a steady life. But two weeks after Natasha walked out of your door, you decided to throw caution to the wind and try it. You had more than enough money to survive for a while so you tossed your bigger items into the storage and began a trek across the country, headed west.

Was it irresponsible to quit your job and break your lease all because a woman didn’t love you? Probably, but you didn’t care. You needed something new; something wild that could help mend the shattered shards of your heart.

So you found yourself in a little town in Ohio two weeks into your trip, a cheap beer in hand as you looked around the bar. You weren’t trying to catch anyone’s eye, merely curious of your surroundings. Plenty of people were scattered about, filling the air with small-town liveliness.

A feminine hand caught your attention out of your peripheral and you discretely glanced over. Long digits traced across the edge of the wood.

“I might be mistaken but I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen you around here before.” Her voice was like a warm breeze in the middle of September and you couldn’t stop yourself from gazing at her.

She was pretty, relatively speaking, though she didn’t hold a candle to the woman who’d prompted this trip. But she might be pretty enough to help you forget.

“You’re not wrong,” you smirked, sipping your beer as you watched her eyes flicker to your lips.

She offered her hand, skin smooth and gentle against yours. “I’m Lucy.”

“(Y/N),” you replied, letting your fingers brush the palm of her hand as you let go.

Hopping onto the stool beside you, she raised a finger and the bartender handed her a drink. You weren’t sure if he’d been simply waiting for the gesture or if it was just a lucky coincidence but you weren’t going to question it. You were a stranger, what did you know?

“So, what brings you here?” Lucy asked, raising her glass to glossed lips.

You shrugged. It’d sound pathetic to admit all of this started because of a woman, right? An Avenger but still…

“Road trip,” you hummed, eyes drifting through the crowd again.

Lucy chuckled, smirking at you over the rim of her drink. “I’ve heard a lot of people say that but that’s never the full story, is it?”

Your gaze jerked back to her and her smirk deepened.

“Boyfriend troubles – or girlfriend?” she wondered, her glass thumping on the bar as she set it down.

Sighing, you acknowledged her probing with a humorless laugh. “Technically? Neither. She was never my girlfriend.”

Lucy’s brow arched, curiosity brimming in green eyes. “Oh?”

You downed your beer. “Yeah…” you didn’t exactly want to offer information but the need to vent was pulsating into your bones. No one knew the story; hell, no one had even known you had an occasional bed partner. “I had feelings for her but she walked out and never came back, so I decided a trip across the country wasn’t such a bad idea.”

Lucy gave an apologetic hiss and patted your arm. “Ouch.”

“But,” the corner of your mouth tugged up, “I’m sure some good company would help take the sting out a little.”

-X-

Finding out you had left was a blow Natasha hadn’t anticipated. She’d considered calling you from Clint’s car but the idea you had blocked her number gave her pause. You’d left for a reason, so she should honor that…

And she did try.

But, as another week drifted into two, she was crumbling inside. She’d spent many years trying to correct all the mistakes she’d made over in her youth but now she had no idea how to fix this one. You’d never been hers – though through no fault of your own – but it felt like you’d taken a chunk of her heart wherever you had gone.

In the end, it wasn’t even her who found you.

Tony Stark was many things: arrogant, a billionaire playboy, but not stupid. He’d seen Natasha losing herself and, while he might butt heads with her often, he hated the misery that lingered on the outskirts of green. So, as any friend would do, he stole her phone.

Your number was easy to find since it was the only “civilian” number on there, aside from Laura Barton. Natasha was nothing if not minimalistic.

Minutes later, he pinged your phone and had FRIDAY tracking it.

“Boss, what should I do with this information?” the AI wondered, curious – well, as curious as an AI could be.

“Send it to Agent Romanoff and tell her I better be her best man at the wedding,” Tony replied coolly, wandering off to go bug Pepper before Natasha could come skin him alive.

When FRIDAY alerted her of Tony’s meddling, she did consider hurting him for less than a second before she was racing out of the Compound and towards a jet. Yes, flying a million dollar get to win back her not-ex’s heart was dramatic but she was an Avenger.

And Avengers were good at dramatics.

-X-

You hadn’t left that little Ohio town yet, which honestly surprised you. After spending a night drinking with Lucy, you’d followed her home…

And slept on her couch.

She’d been wonderful to talk to – and you’d been right about the company – but sleeping with her had never been an option. You weren’t going to use someone like that, even if she was a stranger. But, she’d offered her couch and nearly two weeks later, you were still there. She’d argued with you about finding a motel, telling you she liked having someone to fill the silence of her little apartment.

So you stayed.

Right now, you were tucked in a little coffee shop, a mug in front of you as you waited for Lucy. She was off getting things ready for her upcoming art gallery in town so you’d been left to your own devices (which was fine). You were absently flicking through your social medias, listening to the locals discuss a plane that had touched down outside of town. You weren’t really paying any attention to it but the silence that enveloped the shop as the door opened certainly caught your notice.

You peeked over your shoulder, eyes widening as a disheveled – but still unnaturally beautiful – Natasha strolled over. She looked dress for war, but the uncertainty in her eyes left you frozen. In all the months you’d known her, she’d never looked so scared before. Like you were a wild cat that would either spring at her or dash away if she got too close.

“Hi,” she greeted, voice raspy and alluring.

You gaped, your throat suddenly so dry that it burned. You could tell your silence hurt Natasha but your lack of running away helped lessen the fear swirling inside her stomach. She cautiously grabbed the chair across from yours and dragged it closer, though she kept a respectable distance between you.

“W-why…how…um, huh?” you sputtered, trying to gather your thoughts. You had so many questions that wanted out and no idea how to ask them.

“You left New York,” she stated plainly, as if that explained everything – which, it did not.

“Yes?” you replied, though it definitely sounded like a question at that point.

Natasha cleared her throat, green dancing between your mug and the floor. “I was a coward,” she muttered, “The night you said you couldn’t do what we were doing anymore. I wanted to stay, but I was scared. Scared of what happens if I let you get too close; scared you wouldn’t like the real me. So, I left. But when I came to talk, you were gone.”

Her gaze almost felt accusing but you both knew she wasn’t angry with you.

“I –” you stopped yourself from apologizing. You hadn’t done anything wrong. You were the wounded party.

But looking at her, you wondered if maybe you weren’t the only one hurting.

“I shouldn’t have left,” she continued, lip trapped between perfect teeth. “I should’ve stayed when you asked and I’m sorry I didn’t. I should’ve told you I wanted more too. I should’ve given you everything instead of taking it. You were never just fun for me – and I wish I’d told you that sooner.”

“Nat,” you exhaled, watching her shoulders slump. “I wish you had too.”

She nodded, her hair obscuring your view, hiding that face you loved so much. “I know I don’t have a right to ask, but can we try again? Try to have something real this time? I can’t promise I’ll be perfect but I really want to give us a shot. Because losing you? It was one of the worst things I’ve ever felt.”

Your tongue was lead in your mouth, pressing it to your teeth. Thoughts swam through your mind at millions of miles per second and you wondered for a moment if you were dreaming. The air felt ten degrees hotter and you were fairly certain everyone was looking at you but you didn’t dare look away for even a millisecond.

“Hey, everything okay?” Lucy.

You didn’t even know she had arrived and suddenly the world felt like it was tipping on its axis. Natasha’s hair fluttered as her head snapped to the new arrival and you could see her heart turning to dust as she assumed the worst. Lucy’s eyes were on you but yours never left Natasha.

She didn’t say a word, merely kicking out of the chair and rushing from the shop, leaving you stunned. Another flurry of emotions and thoughts erupted in your brain but you knew one thing: you had find her.

You couldn’t lose her again.

Bolting off your chair, you lurched out of the shop and glanced about frantically. A glimpse of her black outfit was the only sign she’d ever existed in this little town and you surged after her, pushing your muscles in a way you hadn’t since you were forced to run a mile in gym.

You weren’t going to let her leave you again. If she left, there wasn’t going to be a third chance – and you knew it.

Catching her arm just outside of the trees that you assumed lead to her jet, you dragged her to a halt, breath escaping you in pants as you stared at the back of her head. This felt like something out of a stupid romantic comedy but that wasn’t your biggest concern.

“Natasha,” you started, though she hurriedly cut you off.

“It’s okay,” she sniffed, clearly fighting off her sorrow. “I get it. You don’t have to explain.” She was silently begging you not to. She couldn’t handle it if you did.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” you assured her, tugging on the skin-tight material clinging to her body. “Lucy’s just a friend I made when I stopped here. She’s not…we’re not…”

Instead of struggling to find the words, you simply jerked on Natasha’s arm, bringing her crashing into you. Her hands found your shoulders and yours cupped her face, thumbs brushing the stray tears away. You had so much you wanted to say but you’d been taught actions speak louder than words so with a rush of courage, your lips brushed hers.

She gasped, her lips still against your own and you wondered if you’d made a mistake. But, as she sagged into you, she fervently brought her mouth to yours, kissing you desperately. She clung to you like you’d disappear, arms coming around your neck to keep you close.

When air became a necessity, you pressed your forehead against hers and smiled. “Want to take a road trip with me?” you asked breathlessly, giggling as she nodded without hesitation.

“Yes.”

Maybe this was that world after all.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanov imagine #mcu imagine #black widow x reader #reader insert #avengers imagine

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babyflossy · 4 years

Text

ice cream | j.ww

gif credits to owner

pairing: wonwoo x reader

requested: yes! requests are still open mainly for nct, seventeen and ateez but i can probably write for others!

summary: when wonwoo’s babysitter cancels on him, you offer to look after his daughter despite the fact you have zero experience with children.

genre: single parents au, fluff

warnings: unedited

word count: 1.7k

when wonwoo's babysitter cancels on him at seven am on a thursday, he thinks his week can't get any worse. he's already had to dodge difficult clients and reschedule a whole day’s meetings after his three-year-old daughter, heejin, was sick and he had to stay home. that thought is proved incorrect, however, when he clips heejin into her car seat and he sees her bottom lip start to wobble. sighing loudly seems to only make the little girl more upset and before he can comfort her, the tears are already streaming down her face.

"hey, hey, hey," he soothes, wiping his fingers on the delicate skin under her eyes. "it's okay, sweetheart, daddy's bringing you to work today," wonwoo wracks his brain for something to cheer her up, at least until he gets to his office. "how about we get ice cream for lunch? would that cheer you up?"

he almost amazed at how ice cream seems to always solve heejin's toughest problems. warm relief floods his system as she stops sniffling and beams at him, her large eyes shining up at him.

"there we go, you have to be a good girl, though. can you do that for daddy?" she nods vigorously, clutching her fluffy bunny toy in her hands.

as it turns out, the ice cream promise can only work for so long, and as soon as wonwoo steps into the elevator, heejin clinging to his leg, her tears start falling again. he lifts her up, perching her on his hip as he tries to calm her cries. he wraps his arms tighter around her, pulling her into a comforting hug.

the last thing you expect to see when you're frantically trying to fit another consultation into wonwoo's schedule is a toddler in the office. let alone a toddler clung to your boss, crying into his neck. you freeze momentarily, confused, but are broken out of your stupor when the person on the other end of the phone starts shouting at you.

"i'm very sorry, mr montgomery, but mr jeon's schedule is completely full for the next week," the man in question shoots you an apologetic smile as he passes, trying not to laugh at the bewildered expression on your face. "i can fit you in for early next week, or i can defer you to another lawyer?"

after your borderline traumatic conversation, you decide to find wonwoo and ask him what the hell was going on. unsurprisingly, he's sat in his office, but instead of him in the chair behind his desk the little girl from earlier sits there, her body engulfed by the dark brown leather. she's still crying, her sobs getting louder and louder the longer you stand in his doorway. you're not sure if you should knock, you usually don't bother but the way he's crouched in front of her, offering her a reassuring smile, seems personal.

"i didn't know it was bring your child to work day," you start, walking a few steps inside the office before stopping, unsure how to act. "i would've brought my cat."

wonwoo chuckles and stands, accepting the slim brown file you hand him, flicking the first page open as you try not to stare at his child. you hadn't even been aware wonwoo had children until this moment. he still hasn't actually said it's his daughter, but the slope of her nose and the sparkle in her wide eyes confirm your suspicions.

"her babysitter cancelled this morning; the replacement is coming here at two." his words are distracted as he frowns at the busy day he has. he had been hoping it would be quick day so he could take heejin home and put a disney movie on for her to watch, maybe cook her favour food as a peace offering.

"ah, i see." you weren't quite sure why it was so jarring to find out wonwoo had kids. perhaps you should've known by the way your heart deflated slightly when you realised the kid must have a mother somewhere.

he looks up at you at your voice, frowning not unkindly. "i know it's inconvenient, but there was nowhere else she could go." the way he says it makes guilt flush through you and you immediately try to change your attitude.

"no, no, it's fine," the bags under his eyes don't do anything to make you feel better. "what's her name?"

"heejin," he smiles at her and you nearly melt, "she's nearly four. but she has a tendency to never stop crying when she starts. i think she's just scared."

walking up the chair, you crouch down and offer her your warmest smile, holding out your hand to her. "hi, heejin, my name's y/n, i work with your daddy." her cries stop, and she stares at you in what looks like confusion, but you were never good with kids. wonwoo holds his breath and waits for her to start screaming like she usually did with strangers, but he's shocked when heejin matches your smile. your eyes widen when her tiny hand clasps the ends of your fingers, an innocent giggle making your smile widen.

when you stand back up, the shock still on wonwoo's face makes you laugh. the file in his hand catches your eye again and you would regret if you didn't offer to help later. "do you want me to watch her for you? i can work in here, you have meetings to get to."

"you know i'm only making you do this because i'm desperate, right? i'm so sorry, i'll make sure you get a bonus for this," are the last words he says before he kisses heejin's forehead and rushes off to his first meeting, shooting you one last grateful smile on the way out.

once heejin had completely calmed down, she was quite easy to deal with. you were typing away on your laptop, replying to emails and starting to sort out the cases you and wonwoo would have to deal with over the next few weeks. heejin was sat on your lap, colouring a tiger you had printed off for her, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. thankfully, no one knocked on wonwoo's office door for the whole morning except mingyu, who apparently heejin already knew and loved.

the surprise on his face wore off quickly when she shouted in glee. "uncle mingyu!" she called, dropping the orange colouring pencil and waving her arms up for him. he shot you a questioning look over her head as he picked her up, throwing her up in and catching her a few times. you mouthed the words babysitter cancelled at him and he nodded in understanding.

"hello heejin-ah, what are you doing here?" mingyu's voice was theatrically positive and you had to stop yourself form laughing at your usually serious co-worker playing with a tiny little girl.

"daddy said i had to come to work with him, but then he promised me ice cream for lunch," you never thought ice cream could make a child so happy.

"well if he promised then i guess you should get excited," he patted her hair down as he sat perched on his waist, "are you having fun with y/n?"

the cold wash of nerves surprised you as you waited for her to answer. "yes!" you breathed a sigh of relief, "she showed me pictures of her kitten! daddy won't let me get a kitten!" mingyu raised an eyebrow at you but you pretended to be busy on your laptop.

after mingyu left, heejin went back to colouring, only raising her head to complain she was hungry every now and then. wonwoo's meeting was supposed to have finished five minutes ago, so you told her he was coming to stop her complaining.

when he finally did turn up his hair was dishevelled from raking his hand through it and his tie was loosened around his neck. heejin jumped from you lap and ran up to him, hugging her arms around the bottom of his leg. "hi, princess, you ready for ice cream?" he asked as he picked her up.

"can y/n come?" your eyes widened at her question and you could feel your cheeks heat up. wonwoo seemed just as surprised, giving her what you thought was a warning look. his eyes softened when she whined his name. "daddy, please?"

his eyebrows were raised to you in question and you stumbled over a response, unsure what you were supposed to say. "i wouldn't want to intrude–"

"nonsense, she's normally shy around strangers, so she must really like you." your cheeks blazed further at the thinly veiled compliment and you nodded.

heejin was distracted on the walk to the ice cream store, watching the people pass by, and you took the opportunity to ask what you had been burning to the whole day. "i didn't know you had kids," you started, thinking on how best to bring up the topic.

luckily you didn't have to explicitly ask. "i don't tell many people, i guess. her mother left as soon as she was born, it's always just been the two of us." nodding in understanding, you hated the way your heart felt that little bit lighter knowing he was still single. the worker asking for your orders saved you from thinking of an appropriate response.

finding a seat was easy as the shop was quite empty for lunchtime. wonwoo had insisted on paying for your ice cream, claiming it was repaying you for looking over heejin, even though you told him again and again you had enjoyed it. heejin was too focused on her ice cream to pay attention to either of you.

"so, uh," wonwoo started and you didn't fail to notice the slight pinking of his cheeks. "do you have anyone special at home?" his words were awkward, and he watched you try not to laugh.

"no, it's kinda difficult to meet people with such long hours."

he nodded in understanding, trying to calm his heartbeat, hating how he felt like a teenager about to ask out his crush. the ice cream on your spoon slipped back into the pot as you swirled it around, waiting with bated breath for his next words.

"did you want to maybe, go for dinner sometime?"

"i'd love that."

a/n: i haven’t written for seventeen since like september so this was really fun! and it made me miss them :(

#wonwoo imagines #wonwoo imagine #wonwoo x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #jeon wonwoo imagines #jeon wonwoo au #wonu imagines #wonwoo au #seventeen #seventeen au #seventeen single parent au #kim mingyu #wonwoo

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arrow-guy · 3 years

Text

Broken Flock (10/??)

Summary: It’s been two years since you uprooted your life and left to figure out who you really are, leaving behind Bucky and Clint with little more than a note as a warning. Now, New York is calling your name and it’s time to go home. How will Clint and Bucky react to your return, and how will the time have affected your relationship?

A/N: Okay, so this is mostly fluff, thank goodness. And, finally, some answers about who took her. Nothing canon, but definitely fun to mess with. Anyway, please enjoy!

Page dividers by @carryonmyswansong

Pairing: WinterhawkxReader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Mentions of experimentation, brief description of injury

Part 9

“Not that I’m not grateful or anything, but when can I go home?” I ask.

"We want to make sure you're healed enough to be on your own," Steve says. Bucky gives him a very pointed look and he clears his throat. "But I think you should be cleared before the end of the week."

I nod. "Okay."

"You're not going to argue on that?"

I shrug and shake my head. "No. I don't really see any point in doing so. I’m hurt, you’re telling me that I need time to heal. Seems pretty straight forward.”

"I see."

"Was there anything else?" I ask.

“It can wait till you’re feeling better.”

“No, Steve, I’m fine now.” He frowns and I tilt my head to the side. “What is it?”

“What connection do you have to Dr. Danielle Hoffman?”

“I don’t… is she the woman from the barn?” He nods. “Right. I only knew her as the Doctor. No one used real names and I didn’t bother asking for any, but that doesn’t matter. Dr. Hoffman is the reason that I have wings.”

Clint appears beside the bed. “Wait, you fell into her vat of toxic waste?”

“From what she said, yeah, I think so.” I reach over my shoulder and scratch at my left wing. “There were others like me at one point, but I think they’re dead. She probably found them long before me, partially because I wasn’t supposed to exist.”

“How so?”

“I fell into a vat of whatever was leftover from her initial experiments, I think. That’s how I got my wings. She didn’t have an answer when her lackey asked when I was made.” He opened his mouth, but closed it immediately. “What?”

“What’d she do to you? And why?”

“Steve,” Bucky warns. “That’s enough,”

“It’s fine, Buck, I’d rather talk about it than keep it bottled up. Besides,” I reach out and he grabs my hand. “Considering I’m not dead, I probably got off easy. The rest weren’t so lucky.”

“Okay.” He sits beside me on the bed and envelopes my hand in both of his. “You can stop any time.”

“I know,” I murmur. He kisses the side of my head and I smile. Steve clears his throat and I cough awkwardly. “Anyway… the Doctor was incredibly clinical about everything right up until the last few days, but I think she freaked out after a couple guards saw Clint and Bucky lurking around. That was about when they belted down my wings and started actually leaving marks when they hit me. Partially my fault, if I’m being honest.”

“None of that was your fault, (Y/N).”

I nod. “Mm, yeah, except when I punched a guard in the eye and then intentionally egged them on.”

“Why would you do that?!”

“I don’t know! I was tired of being manhandled and jabbed with needles and dragged hither and yon at every hour of the day. When they were told to hit me, something took over and I told them to not puss out.” I laugh before realizing how morbid it sounds. “Stupid as it is, this really isn’t the worst I’ve been hurt. They didn’t really try all that hard when they came at me.”

“That’s still not okay,” Steve says.

“No, I know that. I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but they hadn’t gotten a single reaction out of me that they wanted since the first day. Their bark was entirely bigger than their bite.” I lean against Bucky and he sighs. “But in that moment, I realized that you’d found me. It was just a matter of time until you got me out of there.”

“Didn’t figure you’d be in Michigan,” Bucky mutters.

I rub my hand up and down his arm. “Still.”

“Was there anything else you learned about Hoffman?” Steve asks.

“No. I was unconscious during most of the tests. She didn’t want me moving around while she worked. Why?”

Steve shakes his head. “Everything we’ve been able to dig up on her leads back to A.I.M., but after that it’s a dead end.”

“Well that would make sense. A.I.M. focussed on genetics for a long time, right? Aldrich Killian weaponized it, but I doubt he was the first one in the agency to do so.”

“You’re right, but Hoffman hasn’t been associated with A.I.M. for almost twenty years.”

“Even better for her, right? If she’s not under their roof, no one can hover while she experiments on, and inevitably mutilate and kill, live, human specimens. Being out on her own was probably the best thing that happened to her.”

“That… that makes a lot of sense.”

“She probably dragged a bunch of disgraced A.I.M. grunts along with her when she left.”

“She did, actually. There were a handful of private contractors in her crew, but just about everyone has ties to A.I.M..”

“What about that wiry, ratty-looking guy?”

“We’re still looking into him. We don’t have an ID yet, but we do know he was weirdly strong.”

“What if he’s one of her experiments?” I ask. “He seemed to be really close to her, not in the way that an evil boss and henchman are close.”

Steve nods. “You’re probably right, I’ll make a note of that.”

“Thank you.”

Suddenly very tired, I lean heavily against Bucky. I shiver and he wraps his arm around my middle.

“You okay?” he asks.

I nod and mumble, “Just really, really tired.”

Steve takes this as his cue to leave and promises to get back to me with any new information he has before I’m released. I thank him and he quickly disappears out into the hall. Only when the doors close does Bucky help me lay down. He lays beside me and Clint drags a chair up to the side of the bed. He pouts and complains about the hospital bed being too small.

I laugh. “It’s stupid uncomfortable, Clint, You don’t wanna be up here anyway.”

“No, I really think I do,” he counters. “Bucky’s been hogging you since we got you back. I’m just waiting my turn.”

“Aw,” I poke Bucky’s stomach and he grabs my hand. “You couldn’t let him cuddle with me for a little bit?”

Bucky shrugs. “The bed’s uncomfortable. He’d hate it.”

“We could probably move to one of our rooms, if we wanted,” Clint suggests. “The beds would be more than big enough for the three of us.”

“Wouldn’t we get in trouble?” I ask, looking between Clint and Bucky.

Bucky glances over his shoulder at Clint, who gives him a pleading look. “I’m sure it’d be fine. We just have to be careful with you and keep an eye on your injuries.”

I nod. "Okay, let's do it, then."

I look up in time to see a grin flash across Clint's face before he can tamp down his excitement. He takes his time moving his chair back to the edge of the room and fiddling with something on the couch. Bucky helps me sit up, but refuses to let me walk to the room. Instead, he loops my arms around his neck and picks me up. He wraps my arms around his waist and signals to Clint that we’re ready to go.

"You got her bag?" Bucky asks.

"Of course I do."

"My bag?"

"I drove back into the city after we got you back and packed up some things I thought you might need," Clint explains. "Just some clothes and your tooth brush, but you can't wear a hospital gown the rest of your life."

"Thanks, Clint." I reach out and he takes my hand. "I really appreciate that."

He smiles and kisses the back of my hand. “Thought you might.”

Bucky’s room is closest and he uses me to lead Clint down the hallway, gently pulling him along by our linked hands. The three of us bundle through the doorway and Clint drops my bag in the chair next to the dresser. Bucky allows me to stand on my own and I move to sift through the bag on the chair.

I find a pair of soft leggings and immediately put them on in place of the thin boxers I was provided. I pull one of my shirts from the bag and stare at it, knowing full well that I won’t be able to wear it. It’s too tight and would rub against my still too sensitive skin. I sigh and let it fall back into the bag.

Clint places a gentle hand on my waist and asks, “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t wear my shirts. They’re too tight to get on with my injuries.”

“That’s not a problem,” Bucky says.

He pulls one of his shirts from his dresser and cuts two slits down the back from neck to hem. Clint helps me out of the hospital gown and I readjust the straps of my sports-bra before taking the altered shirt from Bucky. I yank the neck over my head and slowly slip my hands through the arms.

“Where’d you get this?” I ask. “It’s huge.”

Bucky shrugs. “Big shirts are more comfortable to sleep in.” He lifts the middle flap from my right wing, positions it between my shoulder blades, and ties the slits off at the hem. “Is that comfortable?”

I shake out my wings and nod. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

I crawl into the unmade bed and lay on my left side. With one eye closed and the other slightly cracked, I watch Bucky change into a pair of sweats. Clint simply strips off his jeans and climbs onto the bed with me. He pulls me to his chest and pulls the covers up to my chin. Bucky slides in beside me and places his hand on my back. Clint rolls us slightly so that Bucky can press closer without crushing my wings. Clint’s hand presses between my wings while Bucky’s arm snakes around my middle. His hand splays out over my stomach and his warmth practically seeps into my skin.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Bucky asks.

I nod. “I’m just sore now, for the most part.”

“Tell us where it hurts?”

“Pretty much everything from the waist up,” I say. “I think my arms got overextended when they chained me up.”

“I’m so sorry,” Clint murmurs.

“Sometimes it still feels like my wings are strapped down.” I sigh and scrub one hand over my face. “It’s hard to sleep when you guys aren’t there.”

Their arms tighten around me, but neither of them speak. With Clint and Bucky tangled around me, I feel so safe and secure that I can finally just relax. The silence that blankets the room is soothing instead of stifling. There’s no urge to explain away the pain or make excuses.

Bucky kisses the back of my neck and I cover his hand with mine. My body grows heavy and I slowly drift off to sleep.

The door slams open startling the three of us awake. I grip Bucky’s hand and both Clint and Bucky’s arms tighten around me.

“Bucky, she’s gone.”

It’s Steve.

“The hell are you talking about, Rogers?” I manage to say.

“But you-”

“Medbay is cold and silent. It’s easier to sleep here, with them.”

“We’ve got new intel, he says, breezing past what I just said.

“Okay?” I try to bury my head in the pillows. “It can wait till tomorrow.”

“But-”

“Go away, Steve,” Bucky says. “She needs her rest.”

“Yeah, Steve,” Clint muffles his snicker against the pillow. “Go away. She’ll find you tomorrow.”

Steve sighs. “Fine.”

He retreats and the door closes.

Bucky sighs and grumbles something about “getting out of here asap.”

“Steve said I’d be cleared before the end of the week,” I mumble. “I’ll bother him about it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is twelve hours away,” Clint says.

“No,” I poke his stomach and he laughs. “Tomorrow is whenever I can haul myself out of bed, and there’s no telling when that’ll be.”

“Mm, you’re hilarious,” he says dryly.

“It’s why you keep me around, right?”

Bucky snorts. “Go to sleep.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You know that’s not why we keep you around.”

“But it’s one reason?”

“It’s a bonus.”

“Hmm,” I trace my thumb over Bucky’s knuckles. “An acceptable answer.”

“Sleep, (Y/N),” Clint mumbles. “We’re not gonna go anywhere.”

“Okay.” I nod, yawn, and press my nose to his chest. “Okay.”

-----------

Part 11

Finally, finally we can get away from the Hardcore Sad Times and back to interacting with Clint and Bucky (which I think is pretty great, just for my own peace of mind lmao.)

Anyhow, I’d love to see your reactions! I always like knowing what you guys thought, so please comment, reblog, and/or shoot me an ask!

If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters, please let me know!

Tag List:

@ghostlyhamlet, @claws-of-vibranium, @creaturefeatures101, @buckysendoftheline, @imagine-assembling-the-avengers, @ptprocrastination, @1950schick, @amayasymone23, @arfrona-and-marvel, @ek823, @fanaticfangirl001, @furrywerewolfcollector, @kissofvenom922, @dawn-phantomhive, @fangirlwithasweettooth, @mairhof1, @starryeyesbadguys, @trap-house-homiecide, @buckywhitewolfbarnes, @kaepm981, @howdoesoneadult, @pcdmesamidala, @thefandomplace, @sian22redux, @skeletoresinthebasement, @lady-thor-foster, @jazzcutie, @gaytonystark, @geeksareunique, @nyxveracity, @breezy1415, @darling-loki, @lemonadeorange73, @tofeartheunknown, @queenoftheunderdark

This fic:

@avengerscompound, @nerdy-bookworm-1998, @shirukitsune, @keenmarvellover, @katebarton15, @feelmyroarrrr

#winterhawkxreader #readerxwinterhawk #winterhawk x reader #reader x winterhawk #bucky barnesxreader #readerxbucky barnes #clint bartonxreader #readerxclint barton #winterhawk #clint barton #bucky barnes #reader insert marvel fic

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seasidefallenangel · 4 years

Text

Letting out a groan, you slunk back into the chair in your bedroom whilst glaring at the horrible pieces of fabric in front of you. Choosing a bathing suit for a beach day should absolutely not be this hard, yet here you were ready to pack it up and call it quits.

When Masumi had invited you to the Mankai Company’s beach day out, you almost launched your phone out the window from sheer excitement. He usually preferred to keep you to himself, so the chance to hang out with his fellow theater members was huge. You had met them a few times and they had welcomed you with open arms, saying things around the lines of it being “good that Masumi has someone else now,” whatever that meant. Come to think of it, you hadn’t met the director either. The entire company spoke so highly of her, so it was a wonder why Masumi had tried his best to make it so you two don’t meet.

“I like the one on the right.”

Shooting up from your chair, you looked at your boyfriend who had entered your room whilst you were marinating in your little thought bubble.”It makes your eyes look pretty.” How did he say stuff like that with a straight face?

Asking him to toss you your coverup, you walked into the bathroom to change and felt the nerves build up in your stomach. Surely Izumi was a wonderful person or else everyone wouldn’t be so fond of her. But… why did Masumi get so weird everytime she was mentioned? Every uttering of her name by someone caused his demeanor to change completely. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but he almost seemed stressed or worried. Was she treating him badly? You’d absolutely stick for him if necessary - he really was a sweet and caring boy despite that harsh exterior of his. Maybe Izumi just hadn’t gotten to know him yet, but you’d make sure she knows how amazing he can be.

Exiting the bathroom and reaching for his hand, Masumi gave you a soft smile. “You really do look beautiful.” Bumping his shoulder with yours, you gave a playful, “Not so bad yourself,” before giggling and getting ready to leave and meet up with the rest of the troupes.

This day was going to be nothing short of incredible!

At first, the beach was nothing short of the most fun day of your life. Upon joining the rest of Mankai, you first saw Banri and Juza duking it out over who got to smash the watermelon open only for Tsuzuru to get tired of their bickering and come over to rain hell on the poor fruit himself (where he got the upper body strength to do so you had absolutely no idea.) Omi was teaching Muku about the wonders of grilling while Azuma, Itaru and Hisoka were under a nearby umbrella - the first two not wanting to be in the sun and the latter not wanting to be awake at all. Kazunari was trying to drag Tenma and Sakuya into a beach day photoshoot, one being far more willing than the other, as Taichi fawned over Yuki’s cute yet simple bathing suit as they walked down the shoreline. The rest of the members were scattered about, smiles abound and laughter filling up the entire beach. The first hour or so between you and Masumi was spent splashing around the water, a few short and sweet kisses shared between the two of you at the expense of Banri’s teasing and Homare’s prose about young love or something of the sort.

Which lead you to right now - a sweet moment between you two cuddling on the same towel shattered by the reality of why exactly Izumi had been such a well kept secret from you.

For what it was worth, Izumi herself was an absolute gem. She clearly cared about every single person she worked with, Masumi included which cured your earlier worries, and took pride in the talents of the boys she so lovingly built up and helped hone their acting skills. It would be foolish of someone not to like her.

Something you realized Masumi went a little too far with.

“It’s so nice to meet you! I almost thought Masumi was lying about having a partner since I never got to meet you myself, I’m so glad you were able to come.” Geez, that’s one hell of a grip. “I could say the same for you,” you laughed, “It was almost like Masumi-,” you suddenly cut off upon turning and seeing Masumi’s face. It could be described as nothing but pure adoration.

For a moment, you thought he was just admiring the woman who’s helped him become a better actor and a better person. But a few seconds passed and it was evident that the look held so much more than that. He’d never even come close to showing you that type of love in his eyes, like he’d fight until his last breath if it meant you’d be happy. The smile slowly dropped from your face and your throat suddenly felt tight. This was why, you decided in that moment, this was why he had kept you from Izumi from so long. Not because he hated her, but because he loved her. He loved her so much to the point where you could only assume he didn’t even love you a fraction of the amount he loved her.

Your hand dropped out of his and he didn’t even notice, instead asking Izumi about how her day was, where she got her suit, if she liked his. She went to answer his unending list of questions, but caught sight of the heartbroken look you sported and you watched as guilt overtook her face. She knew, she absolutely knew how he felt for her and she couldn’t do anything about it. “Um, Masumi… do you mind giving me and your partner here a moment to talk?” You could see his metaphorical tail wagging, “Anything for you, director.” He turned back to you to give you a kiss on the cheek, and his lips felt like molten lava against your skin.

Watching as he walked over towards Omi to grab a snack, Izumi took your hand in hers. “I’m so sorry. I-” she tried to figure out the words for a moment, “I really thought he was over this. When he had told us about you it was so refreshing to see him placing his love into someone who could actually reciprocate it.” You didn’t realize you were crying until she wiped away your tears. “You deserve better than this, it’s my fault for forcing him to let me meet you-” “It’s not.” Your voice didn’t even sound like your own at this point. “It’s not your fault he loves you. I should’ve realized something was up when he kept us separated for so long.”

You reached up to wipe your tears on your own this time as she pulled you into a hug. God, of course Masumi loved her, you could tell how kind she was just from the interaction. She got close to your ear just in case anyone was listening, “If you want to leave I understand.” It didn’t seem like a terrible idea, rather it was probably the best thing you could do right now. The embarrassment you’d have to face having a full on breakdown in front of everyone would only amplify your already fragile state. “I probably will do that… thank you Tachibana-san, and please don’t blame yourself for this.” She separated from you and gave you a quick glance before walking over towards Tsumugi and Sakyo as you went to gather your things and make your way back home. You would deal with talking to Masumi about this tomorrow, right now would be way too much for you to handle- “___!” I was so close too.

You turned around to see him jogging towards you, confusion littered on his face. “Are you leaving already? The sun isn’t even setting yet.” Be subtle, tactile, there’s no reason to start anything here… actually, fuck it. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in love with Izumi?” Upon hearing this, he was completely speechless. He tried to get over her so badly, he wanted nothing more than to make this work between the two of you but something about his director just kept him coming back, even when he didn’t want to. “... I didn’t think you’d notice.”

A dry, humorless laugh left your body, “You were practically falling over her feet, I’d have to be an idiot not to notice.” There was a short moment of silence between you, with Masumi knowing he was guilty and you debating on letting your next set of words out - but your mouth started moving before your brain could tell it to stop. “I think we should stop seeing each other.”

Masumi was never the most emotional or expressive person, but you could see how much that statement stabbed him in the heart. He wanted to tell you no, that you could make it work, but he knew deep down he had no right to ask something of you. Who knew how long it’d be before he was able to properly rid his feelings for Izumi? He tried his hardest not to let his tears fall, while you gave up on doing the same long ago. A soft and broken, “Okay,” came from him and you could tell he had pages and pages of words he wanted to speak to you to try and convince you otherwise but you knew a lost cause when you saw it.

The two of you made eye contact and you let him know you hoped he’d be able to find someone else, he’d be able to fix himself and stop letting his unrequited love run every part of his life. As you turned to walk back home, your heart now nothing more than a heavy weight in your chest, he called out one last attempt to get his feelings across. “I love you, ___.”

You stopped and stood there, knowing that if you turned around you’d run back to him. You deserved better than that.

“No, you don’t.”

this piece was written for a collab for the mankai basement server! check out the entire collab here!

song: natsu no owari no amaoto ga - takami chika and matsuura kanan

#a3 imagines #a3 x reader #masumi usui x reader #a3 scenarios #a3!#angst #scenarios #a3 fanfic

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bouncydragon · 4 years

Text

RANDOM

@snarkyship Here you go! I hope I’ve done it justice. And I hope you like it, of course. :)

***

Tony was in his workshop tinkering on a part of his suit when he heard something fall behind him. He had almost thought it had been DUM-E but the bot was right in front of him. So Tony turned around to see Random on his desk, and apparently he had pushed the stapler off it.

You see, Random was a black cat, named Random because Thor had brought him to the Tower from Asgard under the impression it was Loki. He still believed so sometimes, even though Loki literally lived at the tower, and has been in the same room with Random before. But that's Thor for you.

Tony smiled and walked over to the cat on the desk. "Hello, Random. What are you doing down here?"

Random responded with a hearty meow, then looked around the workshop like he was looking for something. Or someone. Tony's smile grew as he knew exactly who the cat was looking for.

"Are you looking for Loki?" he asked and gently petted Random's head. As answer he got a loud meow. He chuckled. "He isn't down here. But I don't know where he is right now. He's probably reading somewhere."

Random tilted his head and looked at Tony for a moment before he jumped off the desk and strutted out the workshop again. Tony chuckled again and then returned to his work.

***

Random walked around the different floors of the tower looking for the tall cat called Loki. That one was his favourite of all the tall cats that lived here. He had been looking for him for what seemed like hours now but still hadn't found him anywhere. Instead he had run into all the other tall cats.

There was the one named Thor. He was always loud and also was convinced that Random was his brother in cat form, for some reason? Random usually stayed away from that one. He scared him.

Then there was the one named Natasha. Random liked her. She played the most with him. She called him Grigori though. Kind of a strange name but Random didn't mind. Apparently every tall cat had a different name for him but he saw Random as his true name.

Then there had been the tall cat named Steve and his friend Bucky. Steve was very nice and usually the one to feed him. Random didn't know what to think of Bucky. He was nice enough, even gave him pets sometimes but that was it. Well, Random rarely saw him alone. He was always with Steve who usually took it upon him to pet him then.

He had also ran into the tall cat named Clint. Random didn’t trust him. It was a mutual feeling. Though Random wasn’t sure why he didn’t trust Clint.

He had also visited the tall cat called Bruce. He was really nice. He gave Random lots of pets and treats. Other than that, he was really quiet and didn’t actively seek Random out. He left it up to Random if he wanted attention or not.

There was a junior tall cat named Peter. He was great company. Always playing with Random and petting him. Random had even stayed with him a while and watched him "studying"—whatever that was—before he had continued his endeavour to find his favourite tall cat.

Well, and then there was Tony. He had been the last one Random had visited in search of Loki. He was Random’s second favourite tall cat. He was also the one who had given him his name. Random really liked Tony and spent many hours watching him in his lair. Also, he had the best desk. Full of stuff that just asked to be pushed off.

None of them had been able to tell him where Loki was. But he would find him.

Loki was Random's absolute favourite. Even though Loki didn't seem to like him that much. Random had no idea why but he was determined to make the tall cat love him. Any means necessary.

***

Loki was sitting on the couch with his legs crossed. He had a bunch of pillows in his back and a book in his hands. He liked those hours of peace and quiet when he could just relax and read. Everyone knew not to disturb when reading. By now it was an unspoken rule of Avengers Tower. At least after he had turned Clint into a hawk and had given Steve an eagle's head once. It had been hilarious. Clint apparently hadn't minded much. He had said that he'd always wanted to know what it was like to fly like a bird, now he knew.

Still, no one dared disturb Loki when he was reading. Not even Tony, although Loki had told him it was okay when he did it. That's why Loki was so surprised when he suddenly heard the elevator doors open and close. He shrugged. He figured it was Tony about to get a snack or some more coffee. The coffee machine in his workshop was broken thanks to their irritating feline company named Random, who had actually managed to push the machine off the counter.

Random had been with them for about two months now. Tony had given him that ridiculous name because he was literally just a random black cat that Thor had picked up somewhere on Asgard and brought to Midgard with him. His oaf of a brother had actually thought that the random black cat was him, Loki. He still thought so sometimes, even though it should be clear by now that he wasn't the cat. But sometimes his dear brother was a bit dense.

When Loki didn't hear anything coming from the kitchen though, he furrowed his brows. Tony rarely ever didn't make any noise when he came up here to get coffee or snacks, or both. At the very least, Loki should've been able to hear the coffee machine. Loki doubted that Tony would leave his workshop to get some rest here. He had a couch down there and usually would take a quick nap there when working.

But when the door to his reading room was pushed open and Loki didn't see anyone, he knew exactly who had come. He resisted a sigh and focused on his book again. But the looming presence of the cat distracted him.

Random, for whatever inexplicable reason, had taken a liking to Loki. He was always trotting after him, demanding pets and cuddles and treats and whatnot. Loki didn't oblige. Or rarely, at least. The cat irritated him and his demanding nature was infuriating. Loki wondered why, of all the people living at the tower, Random had picked him as his favourite. By all means, it didn't make sense to Loki. Honestly, the cat annoyed Loki. His constant begging for his attention and affection. It was a cat, not a dog. Why did it behave like that? Or were Asgardian cats different? Loki had never thought about that. Well, it seemed rather ridiculous.

Anyway, Loki usually ignored Random which should've made the cat realise that he didn't want anything to do with him. Cats were supposed to be quite smart, right? Well, this one was an exception then. Okay, no, he wasn't. He was quite smart to be fair. How else would he have been able to push the coffee machine off the counter? The issues with Random was that he was persistent and stubborn. He just didn't give up. And that although he had a bunch of people he could annoy and get pets and treats from. So why Loki? Why was he so obsessed with him?

Tony thought it was funny and endearing. Why couldn't Random have picked Tony as his favourite? Tony loved Random. He should be the cat's hyper-fixation. He spoilt him with endless pets and mountains of treats (not literally though, thank the Norns) and boxes full of toys. Hel, the cat even had his own room on Tony's and Loki's floor. It was a cat playground, really. Lots of places to sleep on, more scratching posts than one cat probably needed, hammocks, walkways along the walls and under the ceiling, and a fish tank for entertainment. It was like TV for cats, Tony had said when he had set it up. Sure, because a cat needed that. It was ridiculous.

Loki didn't have anything against cats. No, he just had something against this cat. Like mentioned, Random was irritating and annoying.

And now he was sitting on the floor next to the couch. Loki deliberately ignored him, of course. Maybe he would leave and Loki could continue reading his book in peace. But he should've known better.

He felt Random pawing at his arm and meowing loudly. Loki just turned the page and tried to concentrate. To no success, unfortunately.

Loki genuinely shrieked when Random suddenly jumped on to him, causing him to drop his book.

He sighed. "Oh you wretched creature," he growled. "What do you want? Go bother someone else."

Of course Random wouldn't be persuaded. No, the cat started kneading and Loki hated to admit it but that was actually a pleasant feeling. Soon Random turned around himself a few times before he eventually curled up into a ball in Loki's lap. Great.

Loki stared at the cat in his lap who now started to purr like a freaking lawn mower. Loki sighed and surrendered to his fate, placing his hand on the cat and gently petted him. He had really soft, fluffy fur. Alright, one time couldn't hurt, right? This meant absolutely nothing.

***

A few hours later, Tony craved for coffee. So he left his workshop and took the elevator up to the penthouse. He wondered if Random had found Loki by now.

Tony chuckled. It was really adorable how fixated Random was on Loki, although Loki usually ignored him and didn't pay him any kind of attention really. Tony didn't really know why Loki was like that with their cat. Random clearly adored the God. It caused quite a few funny moments. Like when Random demanded Loki's attention and walked around his legs or jumped on to his lap when he was sitting on the couch. Loki would set him down on the floor again, only to have him on his lap again after a few minutes. Random just didn't take No for an answer. It wasn't like Loki hated the cat or so, he was just indifferent towards him. But Tony—like Random, apparently—was determined to make Loki like the cat. He just hadn't figured out a way to achieve that yet.

Anyway, Tony arrived at their penthouse and quickly headed for the coffee machine. As it worked its magic, Tony looked towards Loki's reading room. It was ridiculous how much time the man spent in that room. Although, to be fair, the same thing was said about Tony and his workshop. Usually Tony wouldn't disturb Loki when he was reading, even though he knew he wouldn't suffer any consequences. But he was starting to get hungry and wanted to ask Loki if they wanted to order something, or go out.

So, while the coffee machine was running, Tony made his way to Loki's den and quietly pushed open the door. He was greeted by the probably most adorable sight he had ever seen. There was Loki, sitting on his couch with a bunch of pillows in his back like always. But his book lay disregarded on the floor (something Loki would probably have a heart attack over; books were sacred to him) and in his lap was a loudly purring Random, curled up in a ball. But the best part was, Loki was asleep. His hand resting on the "wretched creature", as he called Random, and his head resting against the back of the couch.

"JARVIS," Tony whispered while pulling his phone out of his pocket without taking his eyes off his sleeping boyfriend and their cat. "Please tell me you have a video of this."

"Of course, Sir," came the whispered answer from above him.

"Excellent." Tony grinned and quietly and carefully moved closer to the couch to take a picture. "Oh, that's a keeper," he mumbled as he set the picture of a sleeping Loki with a sleeping Random in his lap as his lock screen. Then he just as quietly made his way out of the room and closed the door behind him.

"JARVIS," he asked as he returned to the coffee machine. "Send the video to my lab, please."

"Right away, Sir."

With a steaming hot cup of coffee in his hand, Tony made his way down to his workshop where JARVIS had already put the video up. Tony sat down and asked JARVIS to play it. Tony smiled softly as he watched Random jump onto Loki's lap and curl up there, then Loki apparently giving in and petting the cat before he rather quickly drifted off into sleep.

"Damn, that's cute," Tony said when it was over. He would definitely tease Loki with this. Maybe there was still hope. Maybe Loki would eventually come around and love Random like everybody else. Tony was hopeful.

He ate a few blueberries and then went back to work.

THE END

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chelsfic · 4 years

Text

The Hot List, in which the NYC Familiar Discord Ranks their Masters - Nandor x Guillermo Fanfic (one-shot, crack!)

Summary: The familiars of New York City use Discord to connect and blow off steam...and also to rank their masters’ hotness. Nandor discovers this impertinence and throws an internet fit.

Tags: Crack with a touch of angst

A/N: I don’t know.

---

NYC Familiar Chat #thirsty

Celeste-is-Best: nngh, have you guys seen Mr. 50ss’s’s’ss instagram story????

Celeste-is-Best: He’s so pretty! it’s like turn me, already!

Imurdad | colby: I know, right? I can’t believe he’s only 7 on the hot list…

[Gigi the great and sam teh pretty like this]

Gigi the great: Don’t forget to vote on this month’s poll!!

Best Hair!

We’re the ones who make them look pretty--but who’s the prettiest one of all? This month we’re voting on the NYC vampire with the best hair. Cast your vote!

A. Simon the Devious

B. Nandor the Relentless

C. Tilda

D. Evan

E. Houston

F. Nancy the Relentless

---

Guillermo locked his phone with a little smile. If he could he’d vote a hundred times for Nandor’s hair. It was unlikely that his master would win against the likes of Evan, Tilda and Nancy. He’d thrown Simon on there as a joke and was kind of horrified by how many familiars seemed to be into the limp mullet look. To each their own, he guessed.

On that note, it was almost nightfall and Nandor’s hair wasn’t going to brush itself. Guillermo made his way into the crypt, lighting candles and gathering the soft brush, comb, detangler spray and hair oils. Nandor was what he lovingly referred to as “high maintenance.” He was also surprisingly pitiful for a 750-year old warlord. It took Guillermo ages every night to carefully tease out and brush the knots from his hair without hurting him. It should’ve been annoying after so many years, but the chore remained one of the highlights of Guillermo’s day.

For one thing, he got to touch his master without being scolded or hissed at. So that was nice. For another thing, Nandor’s hair was as soft as his personality was prickly. Guillermo would often drag out the task, running his fingers through the silky strands and lightly touching Nandor’s jaw to get him to tilt his head this way or that.

He was doing just that, as well as admiring the expanse of cream and bronze skin revealed by the open collar of Nandor’s loose shirt, when the vampire opened his mouth.

“Guillermooo...Did you happen to get any virgins for tonight?”

Guillermo’s fingers momentarily tightened around a hank of his master’s hair. He imagined giving it a sharp tug. He forced himself to loosen his grip and replied, “No, master, I’m sorry. Virgins are getting pretty thin on the ground lately. I managed to pick up a couple people from a bible study class, though. They should taste pretty innocent, right?”

Nandor made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat before answering, “You’d be surprised.”

---

NYC Familiar Chat #the-struggle

Gigi the great: I know we all jealously guard our sources, but I’ve been in a dry spell for a few weeks and my master is going to lose it and drink me one of these nights. Anyone have any new leads on virgins in the area?

Gigi the great: I’ve tried the usual stuff...LARPers, church socials, chastity clubs (surprisingly unhelpful…). I’m kinda desperate!

Direct Messages

Celeste-is-Best: only because you had my back last month when I ran out of burial sites…

Gigi the great: OMG! Celeste, please!! 🙏 🥺

Celeste-is-Best: there’s a magic the gathering tournament in brighton heights this weekend...😈

Gigi the great: You are like the virgin whisperer, Celeste. Thank you!

Celeste-is-Best: np

Celeste-is-Best: hey! Are you posting the poll results soon? I voted for Tilda--don’t tell Houston!! LOL

#main

Gigi the great: The results are in! The vampire with the best hair in NYC is……..EVAN!

Check out the Google Form for the full results...

docs.google.com...best_hair

Evan (26%)

Tilda (22%)

Nancy the Relentless (17%)

Simon the Devious (16%)

Nandor the Relentless (13%)

Houston (6%)

---

“What are you typing over there on your intelligent phone?”

Guillermo hurriedly tucked his phone away and looked up to find his master mopping blood from his mouth with a lace-trimmed handkerchief. They were in an alleyway a few buildings down from the comic shop. The limp body of Nandor’s victim lay discarded on the dirty ground. Guillermo smiled affectionately at Nandor trying and failing to clean himself. He took the hanky from him and set about doing the job himself. The snow white fabric was quickly drenched in dark red arterial blood.

“I was just, um...checking on another potential virgin source,” he lied.

The familiar Discord was strictly secret. If any of their masters ever found it and saw their human servants’ uncensored discussions... The thought sent a panicked tremor down Guillermo’s spine and he thought--for the thousandth time--that he should delete the app and not look back. But the idea of continuing with this emotionally draining, thankless job without his little support system was just as disturbing. Besides, the server had really come through for him tonight.

“Well done, Guillermo!” Nandor praised him and Guillermo’s heart swelled pathetically. A small, shameful part of him imagined Nandor patting him on the head and he didn’t hate it. “That was the most delicious virgin I’ve had in months!”

“Thank you, master,” Guillermo smiled sweetly, his cheeks dimpling. Nandor watched him for a long moment and he could swear he saw his master’s eyes linger on his mouth. He shut that thought down before it could bloom into a hope that was only doomed for disappointment.

“Well…I’ll see you back at the house.” Nandor vanished before his eyes, taking his bat form and darting out of the alley with a high-pitched squeak and a furious flap of his leathery wings.

Guillermo sighed, looked at the broken body and wondered if he’d be able to fit his car down the narrow alley or if he’d have to drag the corpse to the opening. He fished out his keys and started the short walk back to his parking spot. All the while thinking, with distracted horror, Simon the Devious beat out Nandor for best hair?!? Really?

---

Direct Messages

Gigi the great: Hey, thanks! The Magic tournament was a hit!

Celeste-is-Best: i do live to serve…

Gigi the great: Har har.

#bitch-session

mish-bish: Ugh!!! Pretty sure my asshole master is hypnotizing me again.

call-me-karen: That’s rough, Misha! You wanna talk about it? My master lets me take the car whenever I want. I can come pick you up…

mish-bish: Yeah, like...I definitely have a huge black hole in my memories from last night. Fuck.

mish-bish: Oh, that’s ok Karen. Thanks.

Gigi the great: Hey @mish-bish. Sorry you’re having a hard time. If you feel up to it, check out the #support channel. A lot of other familiars have gone through this and talked about it there. Sometimes it helps to hear how others cope!

---

“Guillermo! Guillermoooo!”

Nandor’s panicked bellow reached him all the way in the basement where he was checking his lye supply. Guillermo huffed it up the stairs and raced into the fancy room where he found his master staring aghast at his laptop.

“Wh-what is it, master?” he asked, bent over and catching his breath.

“Someone named...Rap4Unlyfe has sent me a fake news!” Nandor wailed, gesturing to the laptop as if the device was personally responsible.

Guillermo suppressed an eyeroll and walked over to sit beside his master. He watched in dismay as Nandor scooched farther down the couch but he tried not to let it sting too much.

The browser was open to Nandor’s Hotmail account. He leaned forward to read the open message, unsure what to expect. The blood drained from his face as he read.

from: [email protected]

cc: [email protected]; [email protected]; [email protected] ...

subject: rofl bahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahah

yooooooooooooooooOO!

Has ne1 else seen there familiars on this site??? I hypnotized mine last nite to give me his phone password and...👀

Mierda. There were two screenshots attached. One was the survey results page from the “best hair” poll. The other was an excerpt from the chat, specifically Guillermo posting the winner of the poll and the link to the results.

Guillermo’s face fell into an adorably distressed frown. He darted a glance at Nandor but the vampire just looked confused. It wasn’t clear if he yet suspected that his own familiar might be “Gigi the great.”

“Huh…” Guillermo leaned back and smoothed his expression into one of untroubled amusement. “You’re right, looks like fake news. You should probably just ignore it.”

Nandor punched his fist into his thigh and snapped, “But Guillermo! I cannot let this go unanswered! This...this...ludicrous insult! Imagine...me losing a hair contest. Everyone knows I have the most beautiful hair!”

Guillermo blushed magnificently, “Of course, master! This is just...a prank. Someone playing a mean trick on you. You shouldn’t give them the satisfaction--”

The laptop chimed. Guillermo dove to prevent Nandor from reaching it but the vampire simply slapped him away with a petulant whine, “Give me that! Fucking guy…”

Nandor’s lips curled into a snarl as his eyes scanned over the screen.

“Oh, no! Now they are making a mockery of me on the ether net!”

from: [email protected]

cc: [email protected]; [email protected]; [email protected]…

subject: RE: rofl bahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahah

Oh! That is too delicious! Suck it, Houston and Nandor!

It gets even better. Have you seen this, yet?

vamp_hot_list.doc

“Guillermo, what is a hot list?” Nandor asked with a worried frown, clicking on the attachment.

“No, master! Don’t--”

It was too late. He watched as his master’s eyes lit with understanding and then intrigue and finally outrage.

“29?! I am number 29 on your dirty hot vampire list!? What is the meaning of this?” Nandor bristled like an angry porcupine, his eyes shooting metaphorical quills into Guillermo’s soft flesh.

“It’s not my list, master!” he insisted and then, guiltily, “Not only mine…”

“Guillermo!” Nandor gasped, his eyes returning to the screen for a moment before pinning him with outraged accusation. “So, it is you!? You are...Gigi the great? Well, I do not think you are so great, little guy! In fact I think you’re pretty un-great right now! And disrespectful!”

Guillermo sank into the couch cushions, melting under his master’s ire and replying miserably, “It’s not as bad as it looks!”

Nandor turned back to the screen and began reading off names from the top of the list, “Viago! Nancy the Relentless! Evan! I suppose these are all vampires you’ve been dreaming of doing the hanky panky with! Putting them on the top of your list above your own master! That’s two demerits, Guillermo!”

“What!? No! Master, I didn’t make the list! We vote on it! Everyone gets a say. If I made the list of course you’d be at the top--”

Guillermo snapped his mouth shut. His face was on fire and he felt like crying. Nandor must have some inkling of his crush, right? After ten years of service? This couldn’t really be the life-ending mortification that it felt like. He waited, wide-eyed, for his master’s reaction. Nandor stared at him, his huge, dark eyes filled with shock and anger. After a long minute he turned back to the laptop, waving a hand dismissively in Guillermo’s face.

“Go to your room now, Guillermo! I need to think of how to punish this impertinence!”

Guillermo stood, barely holding in humiliated tears. He gestured to the device in Nandor’s lap, “My laptop…”

Nandor held it out of Guillermo’s reach and hissed, “No! Vampire only computer time, Guillermo!”

Guillermo left, trudging out of the room with a sinking feeling in his stomach as the sound of Nandor’s flop-wristed typing followed him out the door.

---

#main

Gigi the great: Is everyone okay?

call-me-karen: not fukcing great!

Imurdad | colby: Seriously! WTF!!?

Gigi the great is typing…

Guillermo lay on his little cot with the crocheted blanket his amá made for him pulled up to his chin. Tears streaked down his cheeks and the phone’s glare reflected in his glasses. He thought back to every off handed complaint, every silly photo turned into a “master-shaming” meme, every confession, every joke. All of them laid bare to the world. The Discord server started out as goofy, harmless fun. The hot list was the perfect embodiment of that. But it became so much more. Being a familiar could be lonely. You were isolated from other humans and surrounded by cold, uncaring monsters all the time. Guillermo loved Nandor. Everyone knew this...there were even memes about it on the server! But sometimes his master’s aloofness got to be too much and he needed to reach out to other humans who understood him!

He threw his phone down onto the mattress, angrily pawing at his teary eyes and wondering if this was it. Not just the end of NYC Familiar Chat, but the end of Guillermo the Great, his long-dreamed-of vampire alias. There was no way Nandor would keep him as a familiar after this…

---

Direct Messages

Celeste-is-Best: OMG! Guillermo, have you seen this?

Celeste-is-Best: http://familiar-hot-list.colinrobinson.net

Celeste-is-Best: hey, if this is Nandor’s big revenge scheme I think you’re going to be ok

Celeste-is-Best: we miss you!

---

Guillermo heard his master calling him and cringed. It had been a week since the hot list incident and Nandor had spent every waking moment making little jabs at his familiar and grousing about how he’d been betrayed on the internet. But to Guillermo’s surprisingly intense relief, he hadn’t been fired. After ten years of disappointment and hopeless pining, Guillermo half-expected to welcome the prospect of finally being put out of his misery, so to speak. He was kind of shocked, therefore, to feel happiness and gratitude that his master had decided to keep him around, even if only as a verbal punching bag.

He found Nandor in the library, smugly brandishing the purloined laptop.

“Come have a look at your punishment, Guillermo,” Nandor patted the couch beside him. “This is what happens when you disrespect vampires on the ether net.”

Guillermo swallowed the lump in his throat and collapsed beside Nandor feeling like a man condemned. Their thighs pressed together but for once Nandor didn’t move away. He shoved the laptop at Guillermo and handed him a yellow sticky note with Colin Robinson’s handwriting on it.

“Colin Robinson has assisted in creating a webpage for your disgrace. We have done our own hot list! A familiar hot list. All of the New York vampires voted. So, now you can see how not nice it feels to have your hotness besmirched for all the world to see.”

Guillermo typed in the URL and blinked as the neon green background scorched his retinas. The page was a hideous callback to the internet of the late 1990s right down to the hit counter at the bottom. There was a border of pixelated dancing Draculas surrounding bright orange text.

NYC Familiar Hotness Ranking

1. Guillermo (Nandor the Relentless) - 19%

Guillermo looked at the screen, then over at Nandor, then back to the screen again.

“Master? Have you looked at the results yet?”

Nandor’s brow knit with confusion, “No, why? What does it say?”

He grabbed the laptop and squinted against the garish colors. Guillermo watched Nandor’s face carefully as he read the results. He looked surprised and almost...pleased at first, before giving in to his patented aggravation.

“Fucking Colin Robinson!”

---

New NYC Familiars Group! #welcome

Imurdad | colby: Hey @everyone! Welcome to the new Discord server. Guillermo has stepped down as a mod but he’ll still be around. We don’t have a perfect solution for the security problems we had with the last server. We’re asking everyone to be vigilant about hypnosis and if you feel like you’re losing time, please be sure to secure your phones/computers away from your masters….

---

to: [email protected]

from: [email protected]

subject: Something you might want to see…

Hey Nandoorman! How’s it hangin’?

Listen, I’m sorry that your revenge didn’t go as planned. I noticed you’ve been a little short with Gizmo ever since this whole thing started. As someone who cares about my roomie, I want to advise you to knock it the hell off. Also, I don’t relish the thought of returning to the days before Gizmo came along. Do you even remember what the house used to look like? Pools of blood everywhere. Dead bodies. Melted candles all over the place...

I digress… I managed to snag this screenshot from Count Rapula. I think you may find it interesting.

Your pal,

Colin Robinson

discord_gizmo.jpg

#confessions

Gigithegreat: Hey guys. This isn’t easy for me to share but I know I’m not the only one who’s dealt with this and if I can help one of you feel less alone then I’ll be glad. As most of you know, I recently “celebrated” my 10th anniversary as Nandor’s familiar. I was convinced, absolutely convinced, that my master was going to make me into a vampire. Well, once again it didn’t happen. He made me this weird portrait out of glitter instead. And the thing is...like, I should leave, right? He’s never going to turn me and that’s the basis for our whole arrangement. I serve him faithfully, he turns me into a vampire. It’s simple, right? So why am I still here? Why am I still burying bodies for him and making human sacrifices? Dressing and feeding him? Treating him like he’s some kind of god and not an ancient cranky baby? It’s because I’m in love with him. Hopelessly, stupidly, self-destructively in love with my vampire master who thinks of me as nothing more than a really well-trained poodle who can talk. Why? WHY? Because he makes me laugh. Because he’s fiercely protective of his vampire family and (sometimes) that includes me. Because when we’re alone he can be so adorably, painfully vulnerable and it feels like a privilege that I get to witness that side of him. Because he does ridiculously stupid but considerate things like spending hours making me a glitter portrait. When he’s happy with me I feel like I could float and when he’s disappointed I feel like being swallowed up by a sinkhole. And, yeah, he’s also man-of-my-dreams outrageously hot and I cannot believe you cretins have him ranked #29 on the hot list. It’s a crime.

Gigithegreat: So, yeah. That’s why I stay. I’m no longer hoping for a bite that will never happen. Now it’s a kiss, a hug, a touch, a look. Anything he’s willing to give me I’ll gladly hoard in my little closet-room along with my glitter portrait. Because I’m pathetic. That’s it. That’s the confession.

Imurdad | colby: Brave words, Guillermo. Hang in there, friend.

blood_princess: this is a mood

sam teh pretty: Sending you healing head scritches ❤️

Celeste-is-Best: look, i think i speak for us all when i say we need to see this glitter portrait!!!

[You’re Viewing Older Messages … Jump To Present? ￬]

---

Nandor looked uncharacteristically thoughtful while Guillermo readied him for sleep. The familiar guessed he was still angry that his little revenge plot had backfired. He couldn’t help but feel a little smug about his position as the hottest NYC familiar. Even if he was pretty sure it was mostly due to the other vampires messing with Nandor. Guillermo couldn’t really enjoy his victory, though, not with Nandor’s feelings of betrayal still weighing on his heart.

Nandor’s face was a stoic mask as Guillermo helped him undress. He cooperated listlessly, picking up his feet for Guillermo to remove his heavy boots, lifting his arms up over his head as Guillermo took off his brocade tunic. Finally, he placed his giant hand in Guillermo’s soft, small one and stepped up into his coffin. Guillermo stood by the side of the coffin as he always did, watching over Nandor with affection choking his throat. Nandor smoothed his hair down and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Sweet dreams, master,” Guillermo whispered, leaning across him to catch the lid of the coffin.

“Wait, Guillermo,” Nandor spoke without looking at him, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I wish to say something to you.”

Guillermo’s heart sank in his chest. Oh no...his stupid middle schooler revenge didn’t work and now he’s going to send me away… Tears pricked his eyes and he choked, “C-can’t it wait until tomorrow, master?”

“No. I must say this now,” Nandor responded, oblivious to his familiar’s internal drama. “I want to say to you that--and I think I’m being extremely gracious and lenient here--it is fine for you to have your little, pathetic familiar group on the dark internet.”

“O-oh,” Guillermo quickly swiped the tears from his eyes, “thank you, master…”

“But no more mee-mees, Guillermo! Master-shaming...very disrespectful!”

“Of course!” Guillermo laughed, delirious with relief.

Nandor looked up at him with a final warning glance before softening, “Alright, then. As long as we are clear on that…”

There was a long beat of silence during which Guillermo found himself locked inside his master’s gaze. Nandor’s eyes were like pools of rich, melted chocolate. Guillermo imagined himself as the German kid from Willy Wonka and for a second he was in danger of breaking down into giggles. But then his master spoke in that soft, uncertain tone he only used when they were alone and he was feeling fragile.

“Guillermo...did you really vote for me to be the number one hottest vampire?” Nandor toyed with the buttons on his shirt and looked up at his familiar with a shy, open expression.

Guillermo’s cheeks burned and he wanted to laugh and hide and kiss his master on the mouth all at once.

“Yes, master, I did. You’re…” he cleared his throat and tightened his grip on the lip of the coffin, “so handsome, master. So beautiful...”

He watched his master’s chest expand with pride and his lips twitch into a haughty smirk.

“That’s true, Guillermo. Good job for noticing,” Nandor praised him in a voice that was a little too loud. It rang with a false sense of self-assurance. After a few seconds he went on in a quieter tone, “Do you know, I--this is very silly, Guillermo, you mustn't tell anyone this--I voted for you, too. As the hottest familiar…”

Guillermo’s stomach did a little swoop and his lips curved into a blinding smile. His dumb, beautiful master thought he was attractive? Guillermo tried to reel himself in; he tried to remind himself that Nandor probably only voted for him to boost his own reputation. But--wait?--hadn’t the list been meant as a revenge against Guillermo? God, what a handsome idiot.

“Thank you, master,” Guillermo gushed and now he was certain that Nandor’s eyes strayed too long on his smiling lips and red, dimpled cheeks.

“Alright then!” Nandor pulled the emergency break on the moment. “Time for my evil slumber. Night night, Guillermo!”

And in a slow motion moment that would feature in Guillermo’s dreams that night, Nandor reached up and put his hand over his. Nandor’s cool, smooth palm rubbed over the back of Guillermo’s warm hand and his fingers squeezed slightly. The breath rushed from Guillermo’s lungs and he could only squeak in reply, shutting his master into his coffin and moving away with a dazed smile on his face.

A muffled sound came from the coffin just as Guillermo reached the door to the crypt.

“...And I don’t think of you as a poodle…”

“What was that, master?” Guillermo called.

“Nothing, Guillermo!”

Guillermo shuffled off to his little room feeling like he was carrying a happy little flame inside his chest. For once he gave himself permission to hope without fearing disappointment.

---

New NYC Familiars Group! #thirsty

Celest-is-Best: SORRY NOT SORRY!!!! Simon can get it…

blood_princess: ummmm thirst after your own master, Celeste. Oops sorry she’s 12.

mish-bish: Lmaooo. Gross Celeste!

Celeste-is-Best: listen.

Celeste-is-Best: ...i got nothin. I want his evil dick.

…

Gigi the great: Please look respectfully at this photo I snuck of my master the other night. Do I really need to explain myself further???

Celeste-is-Best: that’s it. guillermo, ask nandor if he needs another familiar. my body is ready!

Gigi the great: Back off, bitch!!!!

Gigi the great: jk love u

Gigi the great: but srsly back off

#master-shaming

mish-bish: submitted without comment

[Imurdad | colby, Gigi the great, Sam teh Cat, and 6 others like this]

...

Gigi the great: 🙄🙄🙄

Gigi the great: I hate him I love him

#main

black-peterrr: ohohoho, has anyone talked to Guillermo lately…..?

black-peterrr: a little raven told me he and Nandor were seen HOLDING HANDS in the park the other night…

call-me-karen: WHATTTTTTTT

Celeste-is-Best: @Gigi the great, CONFIRM OR DENY!! GIIIIIGIIII!

Gigi the great: ……...I don’t kiss and tell 😉

Imurdad | colby pinned a post

Imurdad | colby: This is momentous.

#memes

Gigi the great: hot take…

Imurdad | colby: bahahaha, okay…

Imurdad | colby:

Gigi the great: But have you considered…

Imurdad | colby: lol compelling

Call-me-karen: I mean…..👀

Celeste-is-Best: Ha...ha...ha…*sob*

Direct Messages

Celeste-is-Best: Gigi! we miss you! ur never online lately...

Celeste-is-Best: too busy getting that ottoman empire dick, huhhh??

Gigi the great: OMG Celeste! You’re out of control!

Celeste-is-Best: that wasn’t a denial…

#main

Gigi the great: Hey guys...sorry I haven’t been active lately

Gigi the great: Quick update though....

GIgi the great:

blood_princess: OSDFJweoiflkdfaf omgggggg gggggiiiiiiigiigigig!!!!!!

Jameson: Holy shit, man. Congrats.

Celeste-is-Best: GuillerrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmmooooooOooooO!O my baby! you look amazing!

call-me-karen: DO YOU NEED A FAMILIAR!!?!?!?!?

Celeste-is-Best: jesus, karen lol

blood_princess: my master is having an orgy right now. I just locked myself in the bathroom--I’M FREAKING OUT!! What is it like? IS that blood on your collar??? OMG how was ur first feeding?

Imurdad | colby: FAMILIARS ONLY, GUILLERMO!!

Imurdad | colby: I’m kidding. OMG I’m so happy for you! (And burning with jealous rage)

Celeste-is-Best: look how fucking happy Nandor is

Celeste-is-Best: i’ve been shipping you two from the beginning, Gigi!

Celeste-is-Best: …..hope you’re not going to forget who helped you out with those virgins last month…

---

“Guillermo!” Nandor’s voice was half whine, half growl. “It’s very difficult to sleep with that light filling the coffin! What are you doing anyway?”

The screen illuminated Guillermo’s grin as he answered, “Just posted that selfie we took to the familiar chat. They’re freaking out.”

Nandor turned onto his side, nuzzling his face into Guillermo’s neck and tickling him with his beard, “That’s nice. Sleepy time now, Guillermo.”

“Yes, master,” Guillermo breathed and Nandor purred low in his chest. Some things had changed since becoming a vampire and others had stayed the same. Calling Nandor “master” had taken on a new, thrilling subtext.

Nandor’s arms snaked around Guillermo, tugging the smaller vampire into his chest. He let out a contented sigh and his body went still as he began to fall asleep.

“I guess I should probably leave the group,” Guillermo yawned--force of habit. “Since I’m not a familiar anymore.”

Nandor wrenched himself from sleep with the power of his own petulance, “Hey! What do you mean ‘not a familiar anymore’? Just because a guy gives his boyfriend the gift of eternal life he thinks he can quit being his familiar!? Who’s going to brush my hair?! ‘Not a familiar anymore’...fucking guy…”

#nandor x guillermo #guillermo x nandor #nandermo #wwdits #wwdits fanfic #nandor the relentless #guillermo de la cruz

39 notes · View notes

laur-rants · 3 years

Text

Fic Update: Blood Wolf

Chapter 2

Fandom: Dishonored

Rated: Mature to Explicit, Strong Violence and Gore Ahead!!

Synopsis: Daud-Centric Prequel to Wolfbann. The story centers on how Daud turned, and his subsequent marking by the outsider and his formulation of the Whalers. Notes: There probably won’t be nsfw content in this fic, but it WILL be… violent. I want to play with my own boundaries of written violence and also Daud’s start wasn’t nearly as clean as Corvo’s. Their contrast on dealing with the werewolf transformation is one of the things I want to really explore, and Daud gets very close to falling off the wagon.

CHAPTER TAGS: Graphic depiction of nasty injury. AO3 link Previous :: Next

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

Dunwall, Gristol

Month of Clans -- 1820

He woke with a gasp that burned and seared and lit his body on fire. He drew breath with a cough so painful it cracked his ribs and pulled him apart, fighting every aching inhale. Moving was an agony. His face and throat screamed at him as he rolled over, his fists clenching and teeth gnashing to try and quell the cry that threatened to burst out of him.

He settled for a muffled, tortured groan. His arms were bruised to the Void and back, but he pulled himself up, heaved an empty stomach, then lurched, willing his unresponsive body upright against a cold and slime-covered wall.

Daud breathed, in and out. He opened an eye only to find the world spinning dangerously, vertigo threatening his senses. He winced, shutting his eyes and trying to simply calm the rushing in his ears and head. Every pulse of his heart throbbed into his aching face, the sear of it blinding. Slowly, he lifted a shaking, gloved hand to delicately grace his features. The touch was tiny, as gingerly as he could manage, and still the pain screamed through him, sending shockwaves all the way down his spine and chest. The huge divot in his skin turned his stomach and his fingers pulled away, feeling sticky. Infection was setting in; not a good sign. He cracked his good eye open again, trying to focus on his hand in the gloom. He could feel shock setting into his limbs and he squeezed his fist, open and closed. He breathed, swallowed his nausea, and clung to the wall for dear life.

He should be dead. The wound on his face was beyond standard repair. He could practically feel his pulse jumping out of his neck; there was no reason that his jugular shouldn't be spilling his blood everywhere. He shuddered and coughed and tasted iron. Sweat beaded up on his forehead and his grip on reality loosened. It was too much, all too much. The fever and bile hit him hard and all at once. His eyes rolled back and Daud crumpled to the floor again, swiftly slipping into unconsciousness.

------

He jerked violently out of his second bout of sleep. Or could it be called sleep? He hadn't dreamt of anything, he had no idea how long he'd been out, and he remembered nothing of what he had been doing…

But the smell. Oh Void, the smell.

It smashed into his face like a sucker punch, the offense of it causing his brain to derail into survival mode. His nose wrinkled and a hiss escaped him, the odor assaulting him like an enemy. The pull on his features renewed the pain lancing all down the right of his face -- and the memory of his wound struck him like a crossbow bolt. He checked his hand -- still gloved -- before more tenderly touching fingertips to throat; the wound was, somehow, healing, but in the most festering way possible. The masses of gouged skin were scabbed, but he could feel the flesh at the edges, angry and red and swollen. He cursed under his breath; oh yes, definitely infected. He could feel the heat of the fever on his skin and when he tried to stand, his head swam. Still, he willed his feet to remain steady; he needed a proper assessment on what in the Void he was dealing with here. The world tilted as he stood, but at least his legs were relatively injury-free. Despite his swollen shut eye, Daud collected himself, sneered through the gloom, and what he saw nearly sent him reeling again.

He was in a sewer. It was dark as sin; here and there, the light of the upper world managed to gently filter through. Not that it mattered. He didn't need to see in the dark to know the place was full of death; at the edge of his gloomy vision, the humps of discarded bodies festered and bloated. He felt carefully for the wall and shimmied away from the offensive odor of rot and decay, forcing his brain to play catch up, to try and remember why he was even here in the first place.

Only flashes came to the forefront; tiny, disjointed moments that meant nothing to him without any context. Something large and furred had clawed his face, but there was no way a wolfhound could have inflicted this kind of damage. Perhaps he was misremembering; maybe it had grabbed his neck with its teeth. Silently, fingertips brushed three, four long marks, the longest slash dancing from right forehead to throat, right through his eye-- no tooth would have made lines like that. He worked his jaw and immediately regretted the action, his whole head throbbing in protest.

It didn't matter what had attacked him, he decided, just that it had. And if he didn't get the wound cleaned as soon as possible, the infection could still kill him yet.

His whole body shuddered. He didn't stick around to identify any bodies.

As he left his tunnel for another, the smell of death made way for the smell of sewage -- which frankly, wasn't much better. Blood and grime clung to him like a shroud and he tried desperately to recall why. He counted his knives; he was missing two of them, realizing belatedly they were probably back from where he had come. After some deliberation, he decided it would be easier to just replace them than collect them, but it wouldn't come cheap. The bigger hit, though, was his whaler blade. He missed the weight of it at his side, grimacing at ever considering it to be good luck. A blade was a blade, and now that needed replacing too.

Missing knives, missing blade, dead bodies. With this in mind, he could surmise he was on a job and with a job came a contract. Did he have the information on him? He padded down his jacket, the crinkle of paper faint in his ears.

He reached a spot where enough readable daylight filtered down and decided to pause, searching his pockets. He procured sleep darts, three trap mines, and the contract details. Daud's eyes unfolded the pages, smoothing creases as he skimmed the words, digesting them carefully.

Brimsley. Fink. Dog ring hit. A sizable bounty… Rulfio was supposed to have a cut. But where was he? A flash of memory tells him Rulfio backed out, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He'd have hated going back to that blood-torn room just to look for Rulfio's rotting body.

Reading over the details, more and more memories fell into place. Daud had followed the men and their hounds, had watched the dog fight a monster that couldn't die, had fled to kill Fink and collect the bounty, and then…

Blind eyes. An inhuman scream. Claws rending his entire face to ribbons.

He remembered all of that, the holes in his recollection filling like a puzzle. But anything following confronting Fink and getting attacked by a monster was gone. Nothing to pull from.

By all accounts, he should be dead. Very dead. Daud massaged his jaw on instinct, surprised to find it still whole. He was sure it had broken, his jugular bursting, his face shattered. He had been bleeding out. Nothing could've fixed that bad of a wound.

His mind's eye supplied him the vision of a giant monster's throat bubbling, gurgling, then somehow repairing. He felt his scratches, remembering the hot blood that should've been pouring from them, his own blood leaving far too quickly to be replaced… and yet…

And yet.

His heart rate quickened and his head and throat throbbed. He did his best to still the rising panic in his bones and let his mind rationalize. His neck was different from some monster who used magic to come back to life, to heal completely. He didn't use black magic. Maybe he was just damned lucky, not that he was out of the woods yet. Daud was alive, but still in considerable pain. He was wounded. His head spun dangerously with every stray thought. He needed to get looked at, to make sure he didn't die of infection.

But first, he needed to get paid.

He tucked the contract safely away and gathered himself the best he could. He was near the surface now; he could hear the people passing by, the shouts of guards and teachers and sellers alike. He wandered the tunnels, looking for a maintenance shaft, some way out before he was unceremoniously swept away into the Wrenhaven. He was actually near an exit when something caught his eye, glinting in the light by a blocked off drainage pipe.

It was his sword. Nearly washed away, stopped by a grate. The opening wasn't large enough for him to crawl out of, but through it, Dunwall Tower was visible, where the Kaldwins and their servants sat cushy and protected.

Daud grunted, holding no love lost for nobles and their affairs. He pulled the blade free, feeling for the notch. It caught in the thumb of his glove, nearly drawing blood, and Daud smiled.

“Lucky,” he muttered, sheathing the blade. His voice rasped painfully but he paid it no mind, just happy he still had a voice in the first place.

------

The Brimsley estate was huge and conspicuous and easy to infiltrate. Daud had few issues finding it and even fewer issues scaling the wall, even in his injured state. He was a mess; he didn't care. He didn't care that he stank of death, that his clothes were soaked black-red from a stranger's blood. He didn't care that half of his face was ripped open, raw and ragged and showing every swollen edge. A part of him revelled in it, couldn't wait to feed off the look on his contractor's face when Brimsley eventually found the assassin relaxing on the balcony, enjoying the warm, late spring evening.

His blade sat on his leg, the whetstone running cleanly across it. Every pass caused the metal to sing and smile in the dying light of the day. He felt the wind shift and heard a door close; he didn't pause his easy movement. There were two muffled voices chatting amicably, but they paused as Daud's stone ran along steel and interrupted all conversation.

Voices hushed to whispers that seemed to shout in Daud's all-too-sensitive ears. He grinned, adjusted his hood, then looked up as footsteps approached.

Brimsley screamed.

He recoiled from Daud so hard he nearly fell over; actually, he would have, if his assistant hadn't been there, gripping his arm and keeping him upright. A tray of tea spilled across the floor but nobody paid it any heed, not when Daud sat across on the balcony, looking like death warmed over.

His smile was easy, if not pained. Brimsley swiftly pissed himself.

"Brimsley." He pulled the contract from his pocket, and put his blade back into its sheath. His eyes flicked to the assistant and he stood, pulling at the edges of his hood. He walked over to Brimsley and the man, realizing that Daud was real, stammered into speaking.

"D-Daud…" he forced out, and Daud's eyes flashed, watching Brimsley carefully. "What happened? We all thought you died--"

His eyebrow quirked. "We?"

"It's been five days, Daud."

Something in his brain halted. He hadn't seen a calendar, a paper, nothing. He just came here and planned on dealing with all of the other important matters after he had the money to pay for it. But five days? He stiffened, alarms in his head blaring.

"The contract is fulfilled, just like you wanted, Brimsley." He shoved the paper with the man's signature on it into his chest. "My partner and I. The full payment. Now, if you know what's good for you."

"You completed the contract? Then--"

"The Beast is dead. So is Fink. Which means you won't be putting out dangerous contracts trapping assassins into a death ring anymore, now, will you?"

Brimsley blanched. Daud's scowl grew severe, and something in his stare unhinged the noble. He was sweating, breaking eye contact, before waving at his assistant to go get the promised sum. He tried looking at Daud, but could not manage it without retching.

"Y-your face… how did you survive?"

"What's wrong? Disappointed?" Daud growled, his throat burning from the effort. "Sad I didn't turn into dog food, too? How convenient it would have been for me to die like the others. You can be sure I won't forget about this bullshit any time soon, Brimsley."

"You can't kill me... I'm your employer!"

"Maybe today you are," Daud said, eyes tracking the return of the assistant, now carrying a hefty purse. "But tomorrow… a different client, and different contract. You never know if you'll be in the list." He aggressively pulled the purse from the assistant, then silently counted the coin. Everything was there -- everything but Rulfio's cut. Daud snarled.

"My partner is still alive. You'll give me his cut too, if you enjoy your head still existing between your shoulders."

Brimsley nodded, and the assistant was pushed away again. Daud tossed the purse in his hand before pocketing it, his face starting to burn and itch in the most unpleasant of fashions. When he next looked at Brimsley, he caught the man staring at the wounds and he bared his teeth involuntarily.

"Get Sokolov to paint me, if you want the memory to last longer." He sneered, tempted to put a hand over the wound. He doesn't; Daud never showed such weakness in front of a client. It was easier to get what he needed from contractors when he was as intimidating as possible, with or without having to resort to his blade. But something in Brimsley's gaze made him uncomfortable, the hair prickling along his neck, his hand twitching at his side before curling into a fist. He held Brimsley's stare until the man grew too uncomfortable to keep the contact, the noble's shivering frame growing sweaty.

"How did he look?" Brimsley asked, his voice hushed and breathy. "Was he wonderful? The Outsider's beast in that basement?" He then looked back to Daud. "You're one now too, aren't you?"

Daud's whaler sword was at Brimsley's neck in an instant. Brimsley flinched, but there was a smile lingering there that was vile and Daud wanted nothing more than to wipe it from his face permanently. He almost did, but the assistant returned, carrying the purse of coin slated for Rulfio. This time, Daud didn't stay to count the coin; he simply took the pouch, secured it, and left Brimsley's office as silently and stealthily as he came, his anger roaring in his ears.

------

It was late evening by the time Daud neared his current hideout: a small apartment outside of Slaughterhouse Row. The smell of whale oil was never pungent enough to scare him off like it had other residents, but now, as he pushed his way in through the door, closing it heavily with a shoulder, it was so offensive that it burned his nose and caused his head to throb. Not that it wasn't already stabbing him with pain; every movement and exertion pulled at his wounds and he could feel the blood and puss seeping unpleasantly. Nauseous and fevered, he pushed himself to the bathroom, testing to see if the water was running clean today.

It was; he thanked the Void and immediately began stripping down. His clothes were black for a reason; the stains of blood and dirt wouldn't be so noticeable, but the stench was cloying at his nostrils like never before. Since when did he become so sensitive to such things? He grimaced at the rancid smell before filling the sink with water and throwing his shirt in, letting it soak in the lye while he pulled off his remaining articles and started a shower. As the room began to steam, he forgot himself for a moment, reflexively looking towards his movement in the mirror.

And finally, he was face to face with the reality of his injury.

Daud paled, the color draining from his cheeks in real time. He would have vomited if there was anything actually in his stomach besides some nicked bread and an apple. Instead, he swallowed on the bile, taking a careful, shaking step towards the mirror.

His right eye was near swollen shut, black and purple from the bruising all around the socket. The shiner was green on the edges, before getting lost in the infected red surrounding the nasty slices in his skin. And what slices they were; they were actually thinner than he expected them to be, but deep and vicious all the same. The longest and most painful one was the one bifurcating the whole of his right face; he traced it gingerly down from forehead to neck, his pulse fluttering where the scratch fell over his jaw, his jugular…

Daud swallowed again and the wounds visibly protested. He shut his eyes, trying not to let his head swim from the scent and sight of his own skin. He uncoiled his hands, flexing, before rooting through the cabinet behind the mirror. He quickly pulled out some peroxide, some disinfecting ointment, some fancy Sokolov concoction he got after an old contract was paid, and a soft sponge. He carefully poured the peroxide on the sponge first; he hissed and snarled as the sponge hit the wounds, the sound rippling through him dangerously. He slowed; the second growl was more of a suppressed groan as he eased into the pain. He then wrung out the sponge, letting the blood and infection wash away. He then got into the shower, reveling in the scalding water and trying not to pay attention to all of the blood and grime and stink washing away from his weary body.

In the steam and under the pounding drops of water, he finally let his mind relax and wander. It wasn't long before his thoughts became intrusive; five days was a lot of days to be laying half dead in a sewer with nobody to find him. What if he had died? He supposed Rulfio would be the only one to go looking, and who's to say he actually would? Maybe to make a point, win the bet, maybe piss on Daud's corpse. He wouldn't blame him.

No. It wasn't like Rulfio to be that petty, and even if they were just business partners, they were still partners. For the past year or so, they had come to work well together and as it turns out, two assassins are better than one. Not many in their profession were willing to let others in on their trade secrets-- plus, stealth work was traditionally best done alone. But with Rulfio, he and Daud had been able to double their output. He never had such good contracts. Even if they just did business together, it was lucrative; he would still be hiding in abandoned buildings like a homeless rat instead of in an old apartment that was heated and even had hot, running water. Blessings like that were few and far between in Dunwall, with exception given to the military and noble houses.

Nobles. Daud spat in the shower, watching bloody phlegm swim around the drain. They paid well, but Daud hated every single one he's ever met. What good did they bring the world? Hoarded coins like dragons, partied while children starved and died. Commissioned bridges in their name instead of paying their workers fair wages. His face ached from the rage simmering just under his skin. His teeth itched, and he rolled a tongue over them, wondering what other unexpected side effects his gnarly wound was going to give him.

The water ran cold all too soon and Daud shivered as he pulled himself out, hardly toweling off as his tired body stumbled over itself. He had half a mind still to pull the Sokolov elixir out; he downed it in one full swig, then turned to the ointment as some strength returned to him. He dressed the wounds in a half haze, his vision beginning to blur from fever and tiredness. It was a messy job, but he was far too gone to care. As long as he slept on his back, he'd be fine. He was sure of it.

What he wasn't sure of after that was how he even made it to the rickety mattress on the other side of the apartment, throwing himself heavily onto it, swiftly letting the Void take him. ------

He tried to get through the days as normal. He really did. But every day passing was another day that the wound didn't heal right, or at all, until all Daud knew was the searing, itching heat of his wounded skin. It dominated his days, his nights; everything in between was fevered and sensitive. He heard whales crying, but not like the keening from the slaughterhouse he's used to; these cries were screams of torture, of whales falling into the Void where their bodies were destined to be desecrated for the whims of a bottomless city.

He tried to conduct business, but it was no use; his scabs were too much of a deterrent. He couldn't chance bandaging the wounds so he left them exposed, and if anyone saw him, they were terrified into vacating his premise. His self-consciousness, usually non-existent, bubbled up in his chest until finally, in a fevered state, body shaking and his breath ragged, he entered the slaughterhouse and stole a whaler mask. The smell of it was pungent and unforgettable; he resisted the urge to regurgitate (everything smelled ten times worse, everything was too much and he still didn't have the piece of mind to wonder why) and placed the mask cleanly over his face, hiding the worst of his facial offenses. Later that same night he couldn't help but notice how, even in the mirror, the long muzzle of the whaler mask suited him in a way he couldn't place. It satisfied something primal in his chest, unlocking a door that he never knew was closed. His chest swelled. He wrestled with the urge to sing.

He sneered. He never sang.

The mirror suddenly disturbed him, those glass eyes too empty, too all-knowing. He snarled, a sound that now caught in his throat and rumbled through his whole being violently, but he saw it as nothing more than his ruined vocal cords yelling at him for even attempting to make a sound.

It wasn't long after that he started looking for Rulfio. It was slow going-- over a week now and his fever still hadn't broken, he still felt weaker than he ever had-- but Daud also had a heavy purse full of a noble's blood money that he owed another assassin. However, with their last contract so far behind them (and as far as Rulfio knew, Daud was dead), tracking his partner across Dunwall was becoming an annoying chore.

Rulfio didn't have a lot of haunts. He had a few regular places, but even when Daud patrolled them, Rulfio never showed up. It made him itch, his whole body full of agitation. It was unlike the assassin; Rulfio was a man of routine. It's what made him so excellent at his job; he could count down the seconds to a kill, a literal metronome, patient and meditative. Every kill was perfectly timed, perfectly planned. So, to see him being something akin to unpunctual was too much to bear. Daud jumped off to a different roof, trying not to fear the worst for Rulfio's safety.

There was one haunt he had been avoiding; their old meetup spot. Something in Daud had nagged at him to visit sooner, but it felt redundant; Daud was a no-show to a meeting, and if an assassin was a no-show, it's best to assume they're face down in a rat-filled ditch. So what was the point in stalking that particular part of Dunwall? The city was huge -- miles across, even -- and Rulfio could choose to be anywhere. So why would he be on a familiar rooftop, waiting for a ghost to appear?

His boots landed heavy on the old concrete, muscle memory catching him before he stumbled. The potted plant overlooking a blood red sunset looked no better than it had two weeks ago, and unswept leaves scattered about his feet as he walked. Everything was untouched from his last visit-- and yet, the hair of his neck prickled, sensing immediately that he was not alone. A dark figure in the corner shifted and Daud's vision bee-lined on it, his fist clenching in apprehension.

"Come on out, then," he growled out, the words muffled behind the thick respirator the mask offered. Even so, the individual jerked and twisted at the sound of his voice. They stood up, spinning on him with a wild, desperate expression.

"Daud? That better be you, you bastard, and not Jordan playing another prank on me--"

Daud's breath hitched and he relaxed, straightening out of the predatory stance he'd taken. Rulfio scrambled forward, then slowed, eyeing the mask critically. "It is you, isn't it? Daud-- Spirits--..." The man hesitated, then grasped at Daud's arm, as if to make sure he was real, and not some smoke-induced mirage. Daud huffed.

"Of course it's me, Rulfio, I'm the only other person who would even think to look for you here." That seemed to ease all of Rulfio's remaining fears. He looked Daud over and stepped back, his nose curling at the mask.

"Outsider's ass, Daud, you crazy bastard. What the fuck happened? It's been weeks."

Daud turned his head away, not bearing to look Rulfio straight on even through the heavy whaler mask. In response, he pushed the coin purse into Rulfio's hand.

"Contract's done. Fink is dead. And I made sure Brimsley coughed up your respective pay." Rulfio looked at the money in disbelief; mouth agape, he counted through the coin. Daud tilted his head, triumphant. "Told you I'd win our bet."

Rulfio huffed a laugh, the edges of his beard crinkling in a smile. "You really are a son of the Outsider, you know that, Daud? Shit." He then gave the mask a more critical eye, his eyes flicking to Daud's visible sliver of neck. Daud stiffened, and a very strong part of his brain wished to flee as far and fast as his body could take him.

He stayed, fist clenched.

"So, what's up with the mask? Not like you to hide your face."

Daud shifted, and the mask jerked as he looked around. "My face has been bad for business."

"Bad for business?" Rulfio laughed, unbelieving. "Get better lies, Daud. You're always the face of our contracts, as if you wanna be the most famous assassin in Dunwall."

Daud huffed, his breath hot on the leather.

"Just-- look. You'll see what I mean." He unlatched the mask, unraveling the sizing band and pulling the article off his face.

Rulfio's expression dropped. His eyes darted away, then he covered his mouth, muffling a curse. Daud's stomach turned at the reaction.

"Daud? What the fuck? What the fuck?"

"The cheater in the contract had a souped up dog, or something." A monster, an abomination of flesh and fur. "It hit me, but I was able to walk away alive."

"Are you sure?" Rulfio's voice painfully broke on the question. His fists curled, quivering at his sides. "Daud, have you seen yourself?"

Daud sneered, the skin of face pulling and itching unpleasantly. He smothered the urge to claw the wounds open. "You asked why I'm wearing a mask, and then you ask if I've seen my own reflection lately? Are you an idiot, Rulfio? Of course I know how bad this looks!" His hand gestured to his face, his neck, his pulse suddenly throbbing against the wounds. "I'm not dead yet, and besides, I still owed you your cut of the profits!"

"You should have died," Rulfio said softly, his voice barely a whisper but ringing all too loudly in Daud's ears. "That wound… there's no way it hit your neck and didn't sever your jugular. How are you still alive?"

Daud's ears filled with rushing wind. He snarled, showing his teeth. Rulfio stepped back, his eyes on Daud's expression. Daud caught the movement; he exhaled, deflating.

"Lucky, I guess."

Rulfio's face was unconvinced, his eyes dark under heavy brows.

"There's something you're not telling me, Daud."

In his brain, Daud replayed the memory of that giant whale of a wolf, that disgusting, shredded monster and it's neck, sizzling and smoking and knitting itself back together. Instinctively, he brought a hand up to his neck, stopping just short of ripping at his wounds, at giving in to that bone-deep ache and gouging new, fresh lines into his skin. Rulfio watched the movement, his eyes holding too much concern, and Daud hated it. He was an assassin, for fuck's sake. He wasn't some child, and even when he was, he was already killing, shoving sharp bits of metal into his assailant's eyes. He didn't need the pity resting in Rulfio's black eyes.

He growled, anger boiling hot under his skin, but Daud didn't give in to his urges. His hand dropped, his breathing hard and his ears ringing.

"It's nothing you need to worry about Rulf. I dealt with it weeks ago."

Had he? Something told him yes, you did, but he had no memory, nothing to say that the giant dog was actually dead and buried.

Just… an instinct. An unreliable, unnecessary, instinct.

"Yeah, and I'm looking at the blood money result of that, right?" Rulfio huffed, turning from Daud to look at the setting sun. "So, picked up any other contracts since then?"

Sensing the conversation shifting but also feeling his limbs buzzing unpleasantly, Daud pushed the mask back up over his face. There was a comfort in hiding behind it, though Rulfio didn't seem to share his sentiment. He watched the mask slip back on with disdain.

"It doesn't suit you."

"I don't remember asking your opinion," Daud shot back, defensive.

Rulfio shrugged. Daud sighed, the air hissing out the respirator.

"I have not picked up any contracts," Daud supplied, answering Rulfio's earlier question. "I wanted to get you your payment first, that and…" he trailed off, his shrug trying to hide his unease. "These scratches have been a liability for clients. Believe it or not, my face really is bad for business, right now."

"Can't imagine why," Rulfio needled him, and Daud prickled in response. Rulfio seemed to sense his annoyance and just smirked. He walked back over to Daud, pulling a stack of papers out of his pockets. "Got a few that I picked up, seemed like they might be good for--well, for me, at least." He passes the paper to Daud. "Most of these are enough for a singular assassin to accomplish, no problem. If you need work, you could probably take one of these off me."

Daud nodded, looking through each contract. One was for offing a sex offender, another of just stealing a gem from a noble for a noble, another was a hit for killing-- Daud growled and balled that piece of paper up, throwing it over the roof. Rulfio looked at him, protesting, but Daus held up a hand.

"I don't murder kids, you know that," he murmured, dangerously. Rulfio stiffened, then looked at where the crumpled paper had fallen, three stories down. Rulfio murmured out an apology, an 'I must've misread that one in the pile," but Daud shoved him off before finally taking a contract out of the stack.

"It's fine. I got my hit." Rulfio looked at him curiously, but Daud pointed to the fine print.

Seeking a headhunter for con man Eustace Fink, who led my sons to what I can only assume was a drowning under the Hound Pits Pub. Will be willing to part with 200 silver for anyone who can find and apprehend this criminal for me!!

The post mark was two weeks ago. Rulfio wrinkled his nose in clear disgust.

"200 silver? No wonder nobody has taken that job, it's not paying nearly enough."

"That's fine; it's my hit anyway."

"What? Daud, you're worth double that in gold, it's not like you to sell yourself short."

"I'm not-- this is-- do you not recognize the name?" Every syllable dripped with more hatred; Daud could nearly feel his body ripple with the anger. "This is the brother of the man I nearly died killing." And he knows shit I don't, Daud all but growled out. Rulfio raised an eyebrow.

"Revenge, huh? Suits you as much as that mask does," Rulfio murmured. "Are you sure you're gonna be okay, Daud?"

He folded the contract into his jacket, pulling his hood up. His movements were jerky, pained.

"I'll be fine, Rulf. Don't follow me on this one. I'll handle it on my own and see you here when it's finished."

"You can keep the 200 silver, Daud," he laughed, but Daud was already hopping from the rooftop, leaving Rulfio and his words behind.

Eustace Fink would have answers, he reasoned to himself. He knew what his brother had been up to, was complicit in the act. So when Daud found him, he'd be sure wring every dirty little secret out of him before slicing his neck open like a disgraced lover.

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