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rosewantstowrite · 2 years

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Dreamland

Chapter four

Author note: I know another author note, but I thought it’d be less confusing to you guys who reads this, if there’s nothing with pov it’s means the chapter is going to be told through the reader eyes, just like last chapter had “aidan’s pov” so again if it’s doesn’t say “random pov” it’s in the reader’s pov and who’s telling the story. Okay, so I REALLY need your guys help out, how many chapters would you guys like to have? I was going to go for 10 or 20, so if you can please comment down a number between 10-20 for how many chapters you want, please tell me. Also I forgot to put in that this will be a series, so after this book is done there’ll be another one. But yeah the answer to my question will help me decide on how much to write for each chapter. The dreams will stay the same length or at least try to be the same length as they always have but in the real world it’ll be different lengths. So pretty please help. you’ll need to read this even though it’s smut, it has a plot to it.

Warning: Unprotected sex (wrap it up before you knock it up), sense deprivation, daddy kink, spanking, lots of dirty talk, some mouth fucking, choking, hair pulling and degrading.

It’s been two years since me and Aidan had started dating, I let him talk me into making socials for his and now my fans to see what I'm up to and to just chat with me. I was in the bathroom taking a bath — yes, I was taking a bubble bath, with music blaring through the AirPods I stole from Aidan. I was just listening to his Blue Neon song since it was my favorite. I had my eyes closed and because I had it all the way I didn’t hear the door open, it wasn’t until I felt something run a crossed my exposed skin, I jumped up and open my eyes before relaxing once again when I saw it was just Aidan, he just shook his head and took one of the bud out of my ear and set it on the sink near my phone, I give him a sheepish grin when I saw the amusement glittering in his beautiful green eyes. “I was wondering where they were. I have a thief under my roof.” He teased, causing me to laugh, I sunk in the bubbles again to where I was before he came in. “You look so beautiful, it makes me want to take you in this bathtub.” He commented, making me whimper and wiggle in my spot. “Aidan, don’t say those kinds of things when I’m trying to relax.” I whine out making him chuckle, giving me a wink and slipping his hand in the water. I felt the pad of his index finger pressed against my clit, causing a jolt rundown my spine, I glared at him weakly. “Stop, I don’t want to have to change this water because you can’t keep your hands to yourself. So stop being a horny teenager.” I huffed out in a bratty mannerism but regretted it immediately when I saw his eyes go dark with dominance and lust.

It’s been at least three weeks since me and Aidan decided to stick together and mess around. It wasn’t quite love making but it was more than just sex after the party where Robert pretty much cockblock us from doing what we wanted so desperately to happen, I don’t know what it was that’s happening between us, but I couldn’t force myself to ask him afraid he’ll just say that yes we were soulmates and we both know each other well enough to read what’s wrong with just a glance inside each other eyes and know when the other one is upset but he’ll say something it’s can only be sex so his fans doesn’t hate on me and if we date he’d have to hide it for the hate reason, but I tried not to think about it. I woke up pressed up against someone’s chest, their arm wrapped around my waist, I could smell a faint scent of coconut, I turned over to look at the person who was holding me like this, but my eyes felt too heavy to open, I could hear slow and soft snoring. I subconsciously smiled and trail my fingernails up and down their arms. I managed to free my other arm and still having my eyes closed I rolled them over to their back and laid back down, pressing my naked body— wait naked body? My eyes shot open and looked down to see I was absolutely naked not even this person’s shirt on me. I cautiously and kinda in fear looked up and I sighed out silently. It was only Aidan who I woke up to, I closed my eyes again and trail my fingernail up and down his chest absentmindedly and each time it went lower without me even knowing it. I let it trail down once more before I felt something twitched at the touch and I bit my lip, trying not to grabbed it and gets it hard so I could ride him or to suck him off until he cums in my mouth and punishes me for my actions, at the thought of being punished went straight down to my core, I let out a whimper and squeeze my thighs together try and get some relief, to distract my growing wetness in between my legs, I continue to let my finger travel up and down his chest but I noticed that my finger kept going under the blanket, I bit down on my lip harshly to distract myself from touching his member, I didn’t want to know if I’d get in trouble for waking him up for sex and get punished or to wake him up only in his shirt around him as in a good morning wake up call, as I was thinking my finger trail over the tip of his member, I looked down and open my eyes to watch my finer run along the tip of his member.

“Want to rephrase that little girl?” He asked in a low voice, making another jolt run down my spine, I looked into his eyes, challenging him knowing damn well I’ll lose. “Stop toying with my clit so I can take a bath in nice non cum filled water.” I said in even a brattier tone, he glared at me and pressed against my clit again, causing me to whine,he began to make circling movements on my bundle of nerves, I bit my lip to keep from moaning. He stop moving but instead of removing it he slide it down my folds and stick it in my opening, causing me to moan loudly, laying my head against the tube, he set a fast pace, adding two more fingers in me, causing me to let out a high pitch scream of pleasure, thank god no one was here to hear my pornographic noises, he curl them up hitting my sweet spot, I closed my eyes as I begin to feel the coil in my stomach tighten and my walls clenching around his fingers, seeming growing frustrated that I had not release yet he added a finger on my clit, a few more strokes and rubbing I was screaming his name as I came. “Want to be a brat again?” He asked, making me shake my head. “No daddy.” I said before I looked over at him before reaching out to palm the tent in his pants but he stopped my hand, shaking his head. “No, not now, later you can help, but take a quick shower to clean up and meet me outside the house, dressed fancy.” He said and left me alone in the bathroom confused but did as he told me to do, draining the bath water and waiting until it was empty then turning on the water then the shower, washing my body and hair. I grabbed my towel drying off before wrapping my hair up before walking out of the bathroom and went into the bedroom, I picked out a off the shoulder long sleeve lace dress which come down to the floor that Aidan gotten me for my birthday and it hug me in all the right places, a strapless lace black bra with matching lace black underwear combo, I put the clothing on, I put on a choker that held a heart charm on it velvety fabric, feather earrings, I put on neutral makeup with a bold red lip stain, I put on my red high heels. I stopped at the door debating if I should grab a jacket or not, so I decided I’d grab the matching shaw and than walked out of the room and grabbed my purse than went outside to find Aidan by the car, I smiled before walking towards him, I stopped in front of him, he looked at me, looking me up and down as his eyes full with admiration and happiness. “You look so beautiful, but I need you to put this on.” He said holding up a blindfold, I arched a brow but nodded my head, turning my back to him but I heard laughter. “What’s funny Mr. Gallagher?’ I asked, turning to face him again. “I’m not going to blindfold you until you’re in the car. Just so you don’t trip.” Hearing his reason made me blush out of embarrassment and got in, he did the same before turning to me. “Now turn around so I can blindfold you.” He said and I did as I was told, next thing I know I couldn’t see anything, I know it was silly but normally when he does this it’s because he wanted to punish me so I wiggle in my seat. “Now who’s the horny teenager?” He threw my words at me in a playful tone, I rolled my eyes with a smile on my lips. “You can’t blame me, usually this leads to our long nights fill with pornographic things.” I shot back at him in the same playful tone, I could hear the laughter before I felt a hand on my thigh, I smile and listen to the radio as we drove to wherever we’re going, I gripped his hand in mind, after what felt like an hour, we stopped, I heard him got out before I heard my side open, I felt him gently grabbed my hands to help me out, I could hear water, the wind, it smell like the beach, I reach out when I felt him let go of me but as soon as I felt him let go I heard him whisper in my ear.

“I’m going to go behind you and lead you to where I need you to be.” He said which sound like he’s behind me, he put his hands on my shoulders and begin to push me gently towards whatever he doesn’t want me to see, it was about ten minutes until he stop our movements, I heard the water clearer, I could smell the ocean more, I heard rustling which made me confused. I waited until I heard the moving stop, I reached up to take my blindfold off but I heard a noise from in front of me, sounding like it wasn’t far ahead. “Don’t. Not yet, just wait for another five minutes. I promise it’ll be worth it.” I immediately let my hands drop to my side, after a moment I felt my hands being grab and I knew it wasn’t Aidan’s hands, I arched a brow and let whoever was leading me, than again the warmth was gone, I then heard one of my favorite song play, Nerves by Shawn Mendes making me smile, I stood there for a moment before I heard Aidan. “Okay princess, take the blindfolds off.” I complied and to my surprise I was surrounded by my family and friends. Robert, Tom, Emmy, Elliot, David and Justin, than there was my mom, dad, stepmom, Bella, Nikki, and Lily, confused I look at Aidan to just realized he was standing in a heart made out candles, I tear up as Robert walked behind me and give me a gentle push that I needed before going by the others, I walked towards Aidan, stepping in the heart careful of the candles, once I was in the middle, Aidan’s hands found mine. He looked nervous, his normal bright green eyes were swirling with nervousness

“Y/n I know it’s only been two years since we’ve been together and we’re only 20, but I know it’s you I want to spend my life with. I want to have it where I wake up with you every day, go to sleep with you every night, to keep you marked by me so no one tries to steal you, I want to make you my permanent partner, the first time we met in our dreams, I knew you’re the girl I wanted to spend my life with, to create a family together, to spend my entire life with, you makes me want to be better, when you comfort me from the hate, comfort me after a long day, is the moments I cherish, so I have one important question.” He release my hands and got on one knee, my mouth drop and my eyes started to get blurry by the tears, I saw him grabbed a velvet box, he looked up at me and open it up to reveal just a beautiful london blue topaz and sapphire vintage ring, the tears that were barely at bay started to leak from my eyes, I placed my hands over my mouth as he look up at me. “Y/n m/n l/n, will you make me the happiest and luckiest man in the world and marry me?” He asked, I nodded my head not trusting my words, but he stayed on his knee, I took in a breath with a smile on my lips. “Yes, I’ll marry you!” I cried out as he stood up, slipping my engagement ring on my finger and kissed me deep causing everyone to cheer. I felt him wrapped his arm around my waist and his hand on my cheek.

I decided that if I’m going to be mind blowing fuck I might as well wake him up, I pushed the blanket off of us causing him to groan at the coolness hitting his member. I glanced up to see if he was awake. Luckily for me he was still asleep and how do I know? I still could hear his snores, I climbed up on him, I could feel my arousal beginning to leak out of my core and down my thighs. I chewed on my bottom lip before I started my plan at his neck, I harshly suck and bit his tender skin of his neck, leaving a nasty bruise, I repeated this action until his entire neck that I could reach that didn’t mean moving his head was covered in my markings, feeling control over him was getting me even more needy, more power hungry, I started to kiss my way down his chest, occasionally sucking and biting harshly wherever he can’t cover up, I slide down to where my face was right face in front of his member.

I licked my lips before licking a long strip underneath his member. I look up at to see his face contorted in pleasure, I started to kitten lick the tip, humming out at the taste of his precum, I kissed the tip, than kissing my way down one side of his member than down the same thigh, kissing it and sucking on it, I repeated the action on the other side. I then took in only the tip and sucked on it, swirling my tongue around it. I had my hands on his thighs, I then started to push my head down further and by now I could hear him groaning and whimpering, cursing under his breath, I finished taking him in, happy I could fit a lot in without gagging, I wrapped my hand around what I couldn’t fit. I begin to move up and down on his shaft in a slow pace, but tasting him is making me grow wetter and more needy, what he doesn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right? So I remove one of my hands from his thigh and begin to rub in a slow figure eight circle on my clit causing me to mewl around Aidan, when I felt a hand in my hair tight and stopped me from bobbing my head, I was prepared to be pulled off of him but what happened next made me somewhat regret touching myself.

I felt him thrust into my mouth harshly, hitting the back of my throat making me both gasp and gag around him. I moan out around as I relax my throat so he could use it as he wishes. I closed my eyes but the hand in my hair was yanking my head up so I was forced to look at him. “What did I say about fucking touching yourself without daddy’s permission you little needy slut?” He growled out as he released my hair but grabbed my chin and forcefully pulled my face closer to his, his normal bright beautiful piercing green eyes were now a dark piercing green eye color clouded with lust. I gulped and keep touching myself to see what he’ll do if I kept doing it, I kept seeing the lust taking over his eyes, his stare turning more intense and his eyebrows knitted together in confusion as to why I was still touching myself, to push him more I entered a finger, causing a moan to be ripped from my throat. That’s when I heard a growl and his lips harshly and hungrily pressed against mine, he flipped us over so he was on top, he yanked the hand that was in between my legs out and lick the juices from my finger before looking deep in my e/c orbs, I felt slight fear because I never got punished before, yet again I was always playing by his rules. But I was breaking one critical rule; don’t ever touch yourself without his permission and I was doing just that.

“How many times have I told you since we began this whole thing? The not quite dating thing but not quite friends with benefits? Hmm?” He asked as I whimper and wiggle around before sighing out. “Always call you daddy in bed, listen to your every command, don’t touch myself without asking for permission, don’t let anyone make you uncomfortable and go to you so you can make sure I’m once again comfortable, and when I’m in need of relief, come and tell you and follow your lead.” I whimper out as he leans in more and changes how he was holding on my face, one hand was squishing my face as the other one wrapped it around my throat. “And what did my little slut do?” He growled in my ear before biting down on my earlobe causing me to gasp and whimper. “Answer me now or your punishment will be much worse slut.” He again growled in my ear. “I-I touch my-myself.” I managed to get out in between broken breathes, his hand on my throat tighten and I arched my back off of the bed, wrapping my legs around his waist, trying to bring him closer causing him to let out a deep, sexy dangerous chuckle, he let go of my throat and got up walking towards the closet, he squat down so he can get in his lower drawer, it look like clothes but soon enough I saw two black boxes, he walked over to me and set them down beside me. “Now, spread your limbs out in a star shape, do everything I say the first time and I might go easy on you for your first time actually breaking the rule since we are just now got to this point in this part of our sex life.” He said and I nodded my head and spread out as he told me. He opened one box and pulled out four pairs of handcuffs. I gulped and stayed still as he sat down on the bed next to me. “I need to hear you say you’re going to behave from this point on, and about every 30 minutes I’m going to ask you for a color, green is good to go, yellow is a check up and take a break, and red is stop it’s too much, got it?” I nodded my head but moaned when he hit my womanhood with the inner side of his fingers. “Yes Aidan, I understand.” I whimpered out before another slap was right on my womanhood again. “Yes, what slut?” He growled. “Yes daddy, I understand.” I managed to choke out from the haze that was already clouding my brain, once again he was off of the bed, this time with so much dominance that it made more of my juices leaks from my entrance, I gulped and watch as he cuff my wrists and ankles to the bedposts; I than watch him lean over and grabbed a blindfold, I rose a brow and he shoot me a smirk. “It’ll make everything I’m going to do to you feel ten times better because all of your other senses will be heightened, but before I go any further, are you okay with being handcuffed and blindfolded and me using toys on you and eventually me getting to pleasure you with my body?” He asked and I looked up into his eyes. His once dangerous piercing lustful green eyes was now his soft concern, beautiful piercing green eyes. I melted at the look he was giving me, I licked my lips and shook my head. “No, not yet, I want to discuss something before we get too wrapped up in the mind clouding lust, I would have said it later but your eyes are making the words get stuck on the tip of my tongue. So can we talk for ten minutes than we can get back to your stupid game of punishments?” I asked.

He laughed his beautiful laugh and looked at me with a raised brow. “You’re literally cuffed to the bed by good quality handcuffs, and you're still being a brat by calling your punishment a game?” He asked but set the blindfolded down across my stomach, even when this is a serious conversation he still made my core ache for him, I blinked some to hold back the pleading looks I would give him if it wasn’t for this serious talk. “Hey, you can talk to me, if it’d be easier for you to talk about it without being in this position I can uncuff you and if we get everything in that head of yours fix, we can either continue or we can get dressed and go to the movies or bowling or go back to the humane society to play with more homeless puppies.” Aidan said as he started to reach over to undo the cuffs but I shook my head and used my head to stop him from going further. “No, it’s okay, I can talk like this, it’s probably better I’m like this because I’m feeling every nerve in my body screaming to run away without facing the big elephant in the room.” I rushed out and by the look on his face he didn’t understand. “Can you repeat that but slowly this time? I only got the word no and elephant, I can’t help you if you rush your words, you know that.” He said and placed a hand on my cheek which made me automatically lean against his touch, subconsciously letting tears run down my cheek. Great ruin the mood y/n real smooth. “Hey why are you crying?” If there were any trace of his dominance it was gone and replaced with the boy who made my heart beat faster, who made my stomach erupt in butterflies, who made my words get stuck in my throat, who owns every inch of me, body, mind, and soul. I took a deep breath and looked away from him.

“What are we, truly Aidan? Is this just a physical thing with the extra bonus chest of the person you fucking is your soulmate so you know that I’ll always come back in our connected dreamworld and in the real world as well? Because if so. . .” I trailed off as I felt more tears fall heavily down my cheeks but as soon as they began I felt gentle and careful hands wiping away my tears. “Y/n, look at me.” He whispered but I kept my gaze away from him, anywhere beside him. “Y/n m/n l/n, look at me.” He raised his voice slightly which made me look at him with tears still heavily streaming down my cheeks and he kept wiping them away, he leaned his forehead on mine in the comforting motion we always do when one of us can’t calm themselves down on their own. I started to feel his actions to calm my hurricane of emotions down. “Now, are you feeling better enough that you can finish what you were going to say, even though I already know what it might be?” He asked with what I could see the fear swirling in his beautiful green eyes. I hum in agreement before fully collecting myself, I heave out a loud shaky breath. “If this whole thing is just fucking each other in our connected dreamworld and go to get more in the real world but we never truly get to be together because it’s just physical. . . Because if it’s truly only physical I don’t want to continue, I want more. I want more as in being your girlfriend, I want to be one of those clichè couples who found their soulmate. When these dreams become more heated I was still letting my best friend in to my bedroom and help me forget that backstabbing, fucking lying, piece of cheating shit who lied about being strictly lesbian and was bouncing on the guy’s dick like it was a fucking toy, who I called mine for four going on five years. . . What I mean after the cheating and break up, Bella been there for me, she let me call her over at any time of day and even let me use her body and soul as some fuck toy to forget about my ex, than our dreamlands become collected and we started to dream about each other, we got close but our damn bodies cockblocks us by waking us up. I hurt her by breaking our silent agreement of loving each other like we were a thing, but I knew I found my soulmate so I broke it off. So if this is just strictly physical—.” I was cut off by the most romantic, passionate, caring and baring raw emotions kiss, I gasped against his lips when my eyes fluttered closed and kissed him back with my own raw emotions.

“Y/n, our first shared dream, but we didn’t know it, I felt my heart swore at the sight of you, than we talked, we kept talking and seeing each other in our connected dreamlands, then the day of the party, I saw only your back with your hair, so I sat down on the bench that you guys had your back towards even though you were on the other side, so you couldn’t see my face, but I listened in and then you told them about our recent dream and I knew I found you, than I finally got a full look at you and I knew you were my girl, I wasn’t drunk enough to try and talk to you until my friend pointed out you needed me, and well we all know what happened, and we can be together and I’ll keep you safe, I won’t tag you in any of the photos of us unless you want to make public socials so they can keep up with you.” I heard him say and now my tears were running down even harsher down my cheeks, which made him frown. “Wasn’t that not what you needed to know?” He asked but all I could do was pressed my lips against his in a needy and raw emotional kiss, he seemed to have been taken back but he quickly returned the kiss, the confession set my worries away and then the remainder of my juices leaking out and down my thighs, I whimpered, I heard Aidan sighed as he ran a finger against my slits, I arched my back and tilt my head back. “Now we have a problem, we’re girlfriend and boyfriend, I want to destroy you for being bad but I don’t want to go hard on you on the first time of us connecting our souls together as lovers.” He said as he sucked off my juices. I chewed on my bottom lip and looked away. “Are you really going to punish me after pouring my soul out to you?” I asked when I didn’t hear a sound. I felt the bed shifted and all of the sudden my lambs were freed from the cuffs but as I looked around I saw that the handcuffs were still cuffed to the bedposts. I laugh breathlessly even though I know I will probably be actually breathless in minutes.

As if on cue, I was pulled down so my body was full flashed against the bed but my head was more comfortable suited on the pillows. I opened my eyes when I felt something poking at my thigh, I laughed softly and tangled my hands in his hair, leaning up so I could pressed my lips against him passionately, and as he responded to a text, he automatically kissed me back just as passionately. I gently swiped my tongue crossed his bottom lip, he opened his mouth up and I slipped it in, running it over his, normally I’d tried to gain dominance, but with this kiss it wasn’t for that, it was to show our love. I hummed in pleasure as I felt his hands roam over my thighs and sides making me shiver. I wrapped my legs around his waist trying to make him get the message that I need him in me, but that got me a chuckle, he sat up, taking me with him. “Come on, Aidan, please, I need you.” I pleaded, I saw his eyes flashed the dark piercing lust filled eyes but just like that his loving and gentle gleam in his eyes, he pried me off and laid me down. “I’ll give you everything you want but let me prep you some more, okay my love?” Seeing this sight of Aidan got the blood pumping into my veins and my core aching once again, but now it was more of a ache for the passionate combination of our souls, I kept my hands in his hair as I lean in to get another kiss before he kissed his way down my body, when he got to my core, he looked memorized by what he sees, I look away shyly, making him laugh but instead of talking he run to fingers up and down my slits gathering my slickness making me moan, I look at him as he stick them in his mouth, groaning out how good I tasted, he than put those two same fingers in him earning a gasp, I removed my hands from his hair to the bedsheets, I arched my back as he pumped them in and out, occasionally curling them hitting my sweet spot, I moan loudly and whimper as I feel the familiar knot begin to coil in me, I balled the sheets up even tighter making my knuckles white, just than I felt Aidan’s on my clit sucking on it after another two minutes of him fingering me and sucking on my clit, I come undone and came all over his fingers and his face, I breath heavily and fall lamp onto the bed. “Color, what’s your color my love?“ I heard him ask through my haze coming down my high. “Yellow, I need a moment to come down.” I said making him nodded his head, but he didn’t stop touching me, his hands run up and down my thighs soothingly as he kissed, bite and suck on the skin connecting my neck to my collarbone, doing the same thing I did when he was asleep but this time there’s not one touch that was purely sexual. All the touches were full with pure love and devotion.

I tangled my hands in his hair as he kissed me deeply, lovingly, almost like he’ll lose me. I kissed him back, scratching his scalp before he pulled away so he could reach for a condom but I stopped him. “No, not this time, I want to feel you without that stupid shit preventing us fully feeling each other.” I whisper out, he gives me a look, I pull his hand away from the drawer and place it on my breast that was covering my ribcage that held my heart, I let him feel my heart. “My heart and body are ready for what we’re about to do.” I said softly and I swore to god that his already soft passionate glaze turned even more passionate, I felt my body melt against him, before I said anything else he kissed me deeply, I kept one hand in his hair, my other hand traveling to the part of his back I could reach, we broke away for air, I watch him pull away and sit on his knees grabbing his member and rub it against my slick slits to coat his member in my juices, he lined up to my opening. “Are you really sure you’re ready for what could happen since we’re not using protection?” He asked and I smiled. “Yes, and I don’t want you to pull out, I know but I really want to feel you.” I whimpered out as he pushed in me, after he was fully seated in me, I mewled in pleasure. “Now, what’s your color?” He whispered against my lips, I waited for a minute before answering. “Green,” and with that he started to slowly pull out to where his head was in me then thrusts in me gently and slow, I let out small gasps as I feel him going at this pace, I’m assume it’s so I can still get used to him, after ten minutes of this pace I was growing more needy, I wrapped my legs around his waist and pushed him deeper causing me to let out a long moan, that’s seem to do it because he started to pick up speed but keeping the gentle movements, whimpering from his movements made aidan laugh and lean in to kissed me lovingly, I kissed him back as my fingers on his back traces shapes. “Aidan, please go harder, I can take it.” I muttered against his lips.

I almost whined when he stopped his movements and pulled away enough to look at me. “Are you sure? This is actually our first time doing it without toys and I don’t want to hurt you.” He said, making me laugh and arched a brow, my hands now on his arms and as they were on each side of my head, I tilted my head. “But you didn’t seem to mind going hard on me when I was breaking your rule about me touching myself or all those other times.” I reminded him, making him laugh and begin to thrusts in my harder, causing me to moan loudly. I tugged on his hair and pushed him deeper by my legs which cause both of us to moan. He kept going the same pace but this time harder, I arched my back off of the bed and clawed at his back, he growled and snapped his hips harshly causing a cry of pleasure to rip from my throat, this was even better than the other times where we would have sex, this was raw, emotional and it was feeling amazing, he pull one of my legs from his waist and put it on his should causing him hit a new spot causing me to scream out in pure pleasure, and by how hard he was going now; my noises was getting him riled up, he went deeper and harder, my hands ran up his arms towards his hair and tangled them in it, I could feel the coil in my stomach forming, I arched my back up off the bed and trail my fingers from his hair down his back scratching it hard leaving marks in their awake, I tried to buck my hips into him but his hands went to my hips and pinned them to the bed, I closed my eyes feeling familiar knot tightening in my stomach, my walls clenching around him causing him to growled out, on of his hands leaving hip and grabbed my throat, squuezing it slightly, tight enough it was pleasant pleasurable but not to cut off my breathing.

“Aidan! I’m not going to last any longer, please, oh god please go harder.” I moan out and as on cue his hips was snapping at an inhumane pace and hard enough I know I be aching down there, he pulled out before harshly snapping his hips into me, and when he started to play with my clit I scream feeling the coil in my stomach snap causing me to come all over his member but he kept going chasing his own high and after a moment I felt him release his hot seeds in me, he let go off my leg and slowed his movements to let us ride out our high, after a few minutes he pull out of me and rolled off of me. He pulled the blanket up on us, bringing my sweaty body against and buried his face in my neck, then I heard his snores causing me to laugh softly and closed my own, deciding a nap was a good idea.

#elliot page #emmy raver lampman #robert sheehan #tom hopper #aidan gallagher #david castenada #justin h min

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lou-bonfightme · 3 years

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À bientôt || [Loud Bell + Simber aka Big Fam]

In which Hades, Belle, and Simba send their partners and children off before the showdown...[takes place: September 27]

@trip-downtheriverstyx, @labellerose-acheron, @ber-bonfamille-lyons, @simba-bonfamille-lyons

tw -- talk of kidnapping/murder/death/anticipation of bad things, etc.

SIMBA: The decision to have his family leave town was not Simba’s idea. It had been Hades who had approached him quietly, a few nights after the Blackwells had announced their dreadful gala. They stood in the hallway of a darkened Town Hall, a board meeting having just finished, and Hades explained how he and Belle were planning to spirit away their children before the event began. At first, Simba hadn’t understood why Hades was telling him this until he realized that they needed someone else to help Toulouse, who was leaving with them.

And that person was Berlioz.

It had not been an easy pitch to convince Ber. Simba appreciated his husband’s stubbornness (because he wouldn’t call it bravery) to stay with him. In the end, that was not what this was about. It was about making sure that Ashlee, Opal, Aidan, and Bellamy were going to be okay. Simba’s safety didn’t matter half as much as that, Ber’s loyalty didn’t matter half as much as that.

The day had drawn closer, hanging above them like a dark cloud and now it hung above them: threatening rain. Quit literally. The sky was dark with clouds that looked about ready to split at the seams any moment.

Inside the Acheron house, it was a bustle of activity as the parents darted around trying to find this thing or that thing. Juggling the children as they periodically cried or otherwise needed attention. When Simba and Berlioz arrived, they nearly collided with Belle coming out of the door, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, a folded up playpen dwarfing her as she struggled to pull it out of the house.

“Oh!” she yelped as all three of them startled.

“Sorry, Belle,” Simba apologized and reached out for the playpen, lifting it easily from her grasp. He had expected her to fight him on it, but she just let it go. He put it under his arm. “I imagine this is going to the car?”

She nodded.

“Alright, I’ll do that.” He hefted it up under his arm. “Put us to work. We’re here to help, aren’t we, Ber?” Simba smiled sunnily at his husband. This was slated to be a rather somber affair, so if he could make it even a little lighter, he wanted to.

BERLIOZ: So this was a stupid fucking idea.

Not the running away-- Berlioz was all about that. In fact, with the impending doom scheduled (right on time; Swynlake had to lob one at him and his family at least every other year or who knows what would happen), Berlioz thought it was time for an extended vacation, perhaps one where they didn’t come back. Well. Alright, maybe that was an overreaction. But Berlioz had been pissed when Simba sat him and Ashlee down and told him about Zira’s evil plan, and the risks, and then told them that he would be staying. Of course. Because he was the heir of this whole goddamn tour.

Berlioz had tried to argue. He didn’t want to go without Simba; ideally, Simba would stick a finger up at this whole thing the way he had done with InterPride and they could find peace and safety somewhere else, even if it was only for a week or two until this all played out.

It had been pointless. Berlioz knew it was pointless. Simba remained steadfast, loyal, and true-- things that Berlioz loved about him, things that he hated.

If it weren’t for Ashlee, he would have dug his heels in, punished Simba for his stubborn loyalty with Ber’s stubborn loyalty. Though not to a town or a character or Arthur Pendragon-- but to him. And their family. And the bands around their fingers. That wouldn’t work though. Ashlee didn’t know Lou all that well, and leaving her with three kids and too much to worry about seemed unfair.

So Berlioz had packed a bag. And he was here. But it was still a stupid fucking idea.

Ber fiddled with his wedding ring now as they greeted Belle. Er--Simba greeted him. Ber remained quiet, one step back, though he offered half-smile at Simba and then went for another one of the suitcases.

“Everything goin’ okay in there?” he asked Belle, hearing a bit of commotion. That would be transferred into the car in a little under an hour.

Right on cue: Opal, tearing through the house. “UNCLE SIMBA!” she cried out nice and loud before colliding with his legs. She wrapped her arms around and smiled up at him. She garbled a bunch of words that Berlioz could not make out.

Hades appeared with a sigh. “She’s asking for help picking out her ‘travel dress.’ She won’t settle on anything,” Hades said this to Belle with an annoyed crease in his eyebrow. “This is all Lou’s fault.”

SIMBA: “Hey little demon,” Simba chuckled as Opal slammed into him, her little arms wrapping around one of his legs as she grinned up at him. Usually, Opal looked like a pretty even split between her parents, but that smile was all her own. (Maybe just because Simba didn’t see either Belle or Hades grin like that very often.)

He glanced over at Hades as he came up behind his wife, then back down to Opal with a smile wide enough to match her own.

“No, it’s not,” he heard Lou call from up the stairs.

Opal giggled.

“Are you giving your parents a hard time?” he asked the girl with a raised eyebrow. She shook her head emphatically.

“Opal, let go of Uncle Simba,” Belle said, holding out her hand for her daughter to take instead, but she clung stubbornly to him. He felt her arms tighten around his thigh. Jeez, when did the kid get so strong? With his hands full, he couldn’t peel her off of him.

“Hey, Opal,” Simba said her name to get her attention and she glanced up at him. “You know who loves picking out outfits?”

Her brow furrowed as she thought about it and then she shook her head.

“Your Uncle Ber.”

“Really?” She brightened up at once.

“Oh, yeah, definitely.”

Opal unattached herself from him but then threw herself on Ber’s legs. “Uncle Ber, Uncle Ber. C’mon, I will show you all my dresses! I have sooooo many.”

Simba gave Ber a smile at the look he shot him and then leaned in to kiss the side of his head before Opal dragged him off. Belle chuckled as she watched them, her arms around herself, holding her elbows tight.

“Well done,” she snorted.

Simba shrugged as he picked up the suitcase Ber left behind. “I figured distracting them both was probably a good idea. I’m gonna go put these in the car. If you bring down anything else the babies will need, just put it by the front door and I’ll pack it up. I am great at jigsaws.” He knew it was going to be a tight squeeze with three babies and three adults in the car.

BERLIOZ: Berlioz shot Simba a look, half-panicked. Not that he didn’t know how to handle Opal. By now he knew quite well, but-- normally it was always Berlioz and someone else tag-teaming her. If there was anything about Opal, it was that she was a handful. Took several handlers, unless you were a toddler whisperer, like Simba, so really the way this scene shoulda gone was Simba going off to convince Opal into her ballerina tutu and Berlioz would take bag duty, a much less complicated thing. Plus, he could use that time to complain to Belle about this whole thing.

Well. Actually. She was a knight too. She’d probably say the same stupid shit about keeping them all safe, and having to stay because of divine destiny, and because she believed in Swynlake and it was her home and her duty to protect it…

Yeah, maybe Berlioz wanted to talk to Lou. Someone sane.

So he went all the way up to Opal’s room. His eyebrows shot up immediately at all the clothes laid out. “So I see you’ve been workin’ on this for a while,” he deadpanned. Opal was not old enough to understand Berlioz’s humour, so she just giggled and skipped forward. She grabbed a dragon onesie and held it up. “Look, Uncle Ber!”

Berlioz nodded. “Mm, yeah, that looks comfy.” She babbled something in incoherent toddler speak. He picked out something about “guarding” them from “baddies.”

It made him frown. “Opal, you don’t gotta worry about that. We’re just going on a...a family vacation. A special one, for you and me and your TonTon. Right, Lou?”

HADES: Hades watched Opal and Berlioz scamper off for a moment before he turned back to Belle and Simba. He went for another bag they’d brought down: one of Lou’s. Hades had told Lou he didn’t need so much shit, but it had been a pointless comment. Of course Lou was going to pack more ridiculous outfits than he needed, even if they’d only be gone… Hades didn’t know. He tried not to linger on that part of it. If he did, he’d start to worry and he’d want to do something he had never wanted to do before-- flee. It wasn’t like him at all. He wasn’t a coward. He’d grown up with more magic than most, understanding its responsibility. Obviously his place was in Swynlake and by Belle’s side.

But he’d never been separated from his kids before. Not like this. Not for so long. Perhaps it would just be a week away, and it would be exactly what Opal needed to shake off the last of the nightmares from the Order’s attacks. He wanted that for her. She deserved a nice and normal holiday… to see the beaches, play some silly carnival games, go to a play, get a new pretty dress from her TonTon. But if things went wrong… it was hard to predict. Maybe he wouldn’t see Opal for much longer. He had this pit in his stomach that made him more uncertain. It felt like a premonition, telling Hades to go, to stay with his family. (He was staying with his family...his family was just split down the middle. And so was his heart). He knew that Simba understood all of that. As soft and sentimental as he was, he was going through the same thing. And so it was with that in mind that Hades headed out behind Simba with Lou’s bag and said, “So-- how’s Berlioz doing with all this?”

TOULOUSE: Toulouse was glad to be leaving. He was pissed, of course. Thought that both Belle and Hades were idiots. It comforted him that, at least, Hades was only staying behind to protect Belle. (Really, that just made him angrier at Belle. Not because he cared about Hades’ safety more, but because she was being selfish.) He wondered if without the babies, he would make a different choice. To stay. (Part of him didn’t think he would. Was he a bad partner for that? Did he not love Belle and Hades enough?)

Thankfully, there were the babies and because of them, Lou could not dwell on the existential. He had to focus on the children. Getting them packed and put in the car. Protecting them, above anything else, even his own heart.

If only Opal would cooperate. He rarely lost his patience with her, but it was a near thing now. She was being impossible. And he was not the kind of parent to wrestle her into just anything and toss her in the car. (Was he really much of a parent at all? Or the indulgent uncle who let her get away with taking over an hour to pick out an outfit.) He was frowning at Opal’s bed, where her outfits were all laid out. They had already packed her favourite books and her favourite toys, Mr. Fox laying on top of the bag, so he wouldn’t be forgotten and could be cuddled in the car.

When Ber and Opal arrived, he wasn’t startled but he only looked up at his brother’s comment. He rolled his eyes, scoffing slightly.

His frown shifted even a bit deeper at Opal’s words. They were, of course, careful how they spoke about the situation when Opal was around, but sometimes—they did forget. Opal was growing so fast and she was curious, smart, and emotionally intuitive. She knew that something was going on. Could feel the tension in the air. And so soon on the heels of the Order—

Lou worried about her. Children should feel safe. He had spent most of his own childhood feeling the unsteadiness of his family. He had thought—if her parents were together and loved each other, why wouldn’t she feel safe? But for Opal, and the Acherons, it was much more complicated.

He knelt down when Opal looked over at him and she skipped over, leaning against his leg. “Yes, we’re going to the ocean.”

“Fish,” she said, though not as enthusiastically as she might have otherwise.

He smiled at her and nodded. “Yes, fish. And Maman and Daddy will be joining us in a few days. They just have some business to finish up here first. Uncle Simba, too.” Opal swung her head around to look at Ber for confirmation.

SIMBA: “Oh, uh—” Simba said, glancing over his shoulder. He was surprised that Hades had followed him. Well, okay, no. Not really. Out of everyone, the two of them were the ones who would actually get everything packed and put in the car. Berlioz would lollygag, Simba already knew that. And he couldn’t imagine Lou was much better. If it wasn’t Opal spending hours picking out a travel outfit, it’d be Toulouse. And Belle—well, he didn’t know where to put her, but she seemed a little subdued, so who knew.

Hades was practical. Like Simba. They were the de facto heads of their families. So, Hades actually putting bags in the car was not surprising. What was surprising was that he was talking to Simba.

“He’s pissed at me,” Simba said with a shrug as he waved his foot under the back of the car, so the boot would open automatically. “Thinks we are all a bunch of nuts but I’m okay with that. I’d rather him be pissed and safe than here and—” He trailed off as he shoved the pack-n-play up against the back seats.

“Only reason I could convince him to go was because of Ashlee. And helping with the babies, of course. So, thanks for that. I know Lou’s capable, but even he can’t juggle three babies on his own.” Simba chuckled as he tossed the other bag into the car as well and then stepped out of the way, so Hades had access.

“Er, what about Lou?”

BERLIOZ: Opal looked at him, and Berlioz didn’t know what to say.

That was often the case. He couldn’t talk to kids, not… the same way as Simba or Lou. There was this special mix you had to master-- personable, funny, easy to understand but not too babyish. Ber could barely talk to adults as is, so mastering that mix was next-level impossible. He would take Opal turning him into the pet golden retriever or enemy dragon or whatever anyday-- make him bark or growl, that he could do.

But talk to Opal about going away without her parents? No, he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t lie. Because...it might be a lie. Maybe it would be longer than a week.

Maybe her parents wouldn’t join them.

Maybe--

No. Berlioz slammed a wall down in his own brain, as his anxiety started to fester. He was catastrophizing. If he catastrophized, he’d send himself into a panic attack and he couldn’t do that in front of Opal, or with Ashlee coming in little under a half hour, or with Simba looking for him to be strong. If he had to focus on any of his shitty emotions, he had to pick anger. Anger was at least goddamn productive. It made him braver, albeit brash and bitchy. He’d just be pissed-- and hold onto it so he could lash out at Simba when they saw each other again. Because they would see each other again.

To Opal now? “Yeah,” was all he uttered at first. Then: “But don’t you wanna hang out with us instead, eh? We’re waaaaay cooler than your parents.”

That made Opal giggle. “Waaaaaaaaaaay cooler,” she said, trying to mimic his accent.

“Sooooo much cooler. Now c’mon, show us that cool dragon outfit!”

Opal squealed and instantly started to change, right then and there. Berlioz let out a sigh all his own that felt like the release of a fifteen-tonne weight. Except he still carried so much. This was only the beginning. There’d be more questions and moments like this one, Berlioz not sure what to do or say-- Opal and the twins missing their parents. He glanced up at his brother, and was so fucking happy he wasn’t doing this by himself.

“Well, maybe that’ll be the hardest part of the trip, eh?” he half-joked, knowing it wouldn’t be. “You ready for this?”

HADES: Well, if push came to shove, Hades thought Lou could handle three babies on his own. It would be a chore, but over the past few months, Lou had become so integral that he was like another set of Hades’s hands. Maybe that was his true magic-- along with his ability to know instinctively when Hades was getting overwhelmed and needed him. He always seemed to appear, a step ahead, intuition perfectly tuned, ready to take a twin or wrestle a difficult Opal into a better mood.

Or sometimes, he’d appear and say just the right thing to make Hades laugh. And the whole day lifted.

Hades would miss that.

He didn’t want to send Lou away-- unlike Simba. Of course he wanted to keep his partner safe, but Hades always believed the best way to do what was by keeping him close. And hadn’t he and Belle always faced their demons together? He never pushed Belle to the side-- magic or no magic. He’d treat Lou the same if he could.

But he had three children. He had three children, and Lou was not a warrior in the same way that Belle was a warrior, so Hades could crave Lou, could need Lou, but it would be selfish, not smart. Now as the time to be smart.

“I think Lou’s happy to go. Well. Happy’s an overstatement. Or not the right word. He’s not in any rush to defend Swynlake against the forces of evil is all. Must be Bonfamille blood.” Not that Hades was doing any of this for this Swynlake. He was doing it for-- future Swynlake. For his children. For Belle.

“But he knows this is how it works. And as long as I am who I am and Belle is who she is… things like this will happen.” Hades slammed a car door shut. “That’s why it’s called Fate.”

TOULOUSE: Toulouse could hear his brother’s fluttering heartbeat. He could actually hear much more than that. Opal’s heartbeat too. The twins in their playpen next to him (he’d moved it in to Opal’s room so he could keep an eye on them). Belle downstairs in the kitchen moving cups around. He couldn’t hear her heartbeat from her, but still. And he could hear Simba and Hades’ feet crunching the gravel outside and the murmur of conversation, though not their words.

He was going to miss this all. The idea of it disappearing made him feel unsteady and angry. It was a good thing he had a perceptive toddler to take care of, otherwise, he was afraid he might breakdown. His family centered him. The balance was a delicate one, and losing Hades and Belle? Them putting themselves in danger? It felt unnatural and...frightening.

But, he didn’t have time to think about it, because his caillou needed him, and his little brother’s heart was pounding, despite his smile.

He helped Opal out of her clothes and then into the dragon onesie as his brother spoke. glancing at him, he just pursed his lips slightly. “Of course, I am,” he told him, even if it wasn’t true. Because it was what he needed to tell himself. And it was probably what Ber needed to hear. “It will be fine. Caillou is going to be a good big sister, aren’t you?”

Opal nodded seriously, glancing over at the twins before looking back at him.

“Going to entertain them in the car, hm?”

“Yeah!” She grinned big.

“See? No problem. It’s not too long of a drive. By the time we get to Bournemouth, they’ll all be knocked out anyway and I’ve got a full itinerary for the next few days.” After Friday, there was nothing on the schedule, but by Friday, the rest of the family was supposed to be joining them. Until then, he’d planned trips to the museums and markets and beach, to keep the children occupied and Ber’s mind off of things.

SIMBA: Simba wanted to joke about defending Swynlake from the forces of evil, but the words felt like ash in his mouth. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was his fault. Somehow. Or, at the very least, his family’s true legacy. This long term, terrible curse. He still hadn’t been able to reconcile that with the history he had known. And he didn’t know how much was true. After all, Simba had never approached Zira. Partially because Arthur had told him to keep his distance, but partially because...well, he was scared to learn the truth. He wondered, if he had earlier, would they all be in this situation? His family unsafe. Hades’ family unsafe? All of Swynlake, potentially, unsafe?

And he wondered if the same thing Hades said was true for him too. If, for as long as he was who he was, his family would not be safe.

The idea didn’t sit right with him. How was he supposed to have children if he worried about things like ancient family curses? Or a responsibility to a taking care of a whole town? He already felt guilty enough, keeping Ber away, when his place was at Simba’s side.

His shoulders felt incredibly heavy.

“Maybe,” Simba agreed. Though, he still didn’t understand why Allah still felt the need to test him, over and over. Hadn’t he proven himself?

Simba sighed and let his armor drop, for just a moment, thinking about going home tonight to an empty house. An empty bed. At least Hades had the benefit of keeping Belle close. Though, he supposed, being separated from his children must be just as hard, if not harder. He wouldn’t be alone, though, and that—Simba was jealous of.

“Can I ask you something?” Simba turned to face Hades properly. “If something happens to me, would you just—look after them? I-I know Lou and Belle will look after Berlioz but...my mum. She’s got her sister in London but I dunno just...I’m all she has left. And Ashlee. She’s an adult now, but she isn’t ready to be on her own. I know you’ve got your own family but Nala is in Kenya and I don’t want to involve Kiara in any of this and I just—wanna make sure they’re taken care of. I’ve got money put aside for all of them, but...I’d just feel better if you were looking out for them.”

HADES: At Simba’s question, Hades raised his eyebrows.

The answer did not need to be spoken, necessarily. Naturally Hades would step in to help the Bonfamille-Lyons if the worse came to be. After all, in a way, they were Hades’s family too, through Lou. Lou would probably do most of the actual work...picking up after Simba, as Berlioz would naturally be a mess. He was also much better with Ashlee. They didn’t have much of a relationship but certainly more than Hades, and he knew enough about the girl’s trauma to know that a stranger stepping in would not be good for her.

But.

But all of that hypothetical thinking was a waste of his energy. It was a waste of Simba’s too. Hades understood the proclivity to worry as having three children made him more predisposed to it, but he was also practiced at keeping his worry in a separate place in his mind, or making it quiet when he needed to focus.

And now was the time for Simba and Hades to focus.

“It goes without saying that I would,” said Hades. “But you can’t start thinking like that, Lyons. You make that future more likely if you speak it. Have more confidence, eh? That’s what your family needs from you. Don’t talk like you’ve already lost-- you need to think like that isn’t even an option. Because it isn’t.”

That’s what Hades’s confidence-- some called it arrogance-- gave him.

At this moment, the door opened again, and Opal came scampering out, Ber and Lou trailing behind. She nearly stumbled onto the rough steps of their pathway, but caught herself. Even if she did fall, Opal wasn’t one to cry these days. She would have just picked herself up again.

“Daddy! Uncle Simba! Look!” She stopped in front of them and made two claws out of her hand. “GRRRRRRR”

Hades reacted as a father should, clutching his chest. “Oi! A dragon’s eaten my daughter!”

SIMBA: Simba was not a pessimist. No matter how much the world tried to make him one. He tried to be optimistic about things, to believe in fate, in Allah, in things happening the way they were supposed to. And if he thought like that, he thought that this couldn’t be the end for him. There was so much more that he needed to do. He needed to make it to his second wedding anniversary, his fifth, tenth, twentieth, fiftieth. He still needed to convince Ber to have a baby with him. (Well, he’d convinced him, but they hadn’t done it yet.) They hadn’t been to Asia or South America yet. Or taken their trip to Antarctica to see the singing penguins...

And, of course, in front of Ber, Simba wouldn’t let any of that worry wiggle its way in. With Hades, though, there was really nothing to lose. Hades would understand what Simba was asking. Would, maybe, understand that it wasn’t a weakness to think such a thing. Just—practical, born out of love more than anything. In front of Ber, Simba would be strong. All smiles and buoyed confidence. And he’d believe it enough that Ber would believe it too. But, for just a moment, it was nice to have someone else being the one to tell him it was okay.

Simba nodded and was about to say something else when Opal burst out of the house. Ber and Lou appeared in the doorway behind her, both carrying one of the twins and a suitcase. He couldn’t help but smile at Ber before looking down at Opal as she ran up to them.

He let out a breath of a chuckle and then leaned over to squint a bit at Opal. She bared her teeth at him. “Hades, wait—I think...I think the dragon is your daughter!” Simba reached out and scooped Opal up, nom-noming on her fuzzy stomach as she squealed and squirmed.

“Daddy help!”

Simba let Hades rescue Opal and grabbed the suitcase from Ber, pinching Aidan (Bellamy? Hell, he didn’t know they looked exactly the same) (it was Aidan for the record) on the cheek before leaning in to kiss Ber. He turned to put the suitcase in the boot. When he looked back over, Belle had appeared, Shuck following dutifully at his mistress’ side.

She wordlessly stood at Toulouse’s elbow and he handed a sleepy Bellamy over to her. Bellamy snuggled up against his mother’s collarbone and she pressed her nose into his hair. Simba glanced away, feeling something twist in his gut.

“Is, uh—that everything from the house?” Simba asked, clearing the sudden tightness in his throat. He slipped up next to Ber and touched his back, trailing his hand up until he rested it on the back of his husband’s warm neck.

“I believe so,” Lou said, looking perfect, not at all ruffled or distressed, though his hands hung a bit awkwardly at his sides now that he was not holding one of the children.

“Right, well—” Simba’s fingers clenched slightly at Ber’s neck “—should probably get the children settled in the car, eh?”

BERLIOZ: So this was it.

No, it wasn’t it; it was the beginning. Berlioz knew that, and was both relieved and exhausted all at the same time, if that made any bloody sense at all. He was relieved that the beginning of this trip meant that he and Lou and the children would be safe. He was glad to be leaving Swynlake, for once ahead of its terrible storm. For a long time, Swynlake never afforded him that kinda luxury. And he really shouldn’t thank the town this time either, because it was Simba, not Swynlake, who was clearing the roads and makin’ sure they got out.

But he was exhausted because he didn’t know when any of this was gonna end. He was exhausted, knowing that for the next...so many nights, he’d be curling up alone without Simba’s familiar breath or his warmth against Berlioz’s back. Would he even be able to sleep? How the hell was he going to keep up this facade of a happy-go-lucky vacation for a bunch of smart kids, and Ashlee, who definitely knew shit was going down, and needed someone much stronger than Berlioz to reassure her.

With thoughts like that turning themselves into knots in Berlioz’s mind, it seemed clear to him-- Simba should be the one to go. If some Lyons had to stay behind, well, he’d taken the name. Couldn’t he count? No, that wasn’t martyrdom, just plain facts.

But he was a coward, and Simba was not. And he’d never follow that path of logic.

So this was it.

There was a pause between Simba’s words, filled in a beat later by Hades, not Berlioz.

“C’mere, lovely!” he exclaimed, and he lifted Opal into his arms. She squealed. Berlioz watched as he spun her once around, making her laugh again, before he zoomed toward the car, making noises like he was a giant spaceship. “Annnnnd she lands!” he exclaimed, tucking Opal into one of the seats.

Berlioz’s heart pounded hard, he could feel it like a fist in his throat. He turned to Simba. “What if you changed your mind and came with us anyway?” the words spilled out, useless, selfish. He knew the answer. He still had to say it.

SIMBA: Simba sighed and glanced away from Berlioz, though he didn’t stop touching him. This was what it felt like—looking away, but still reaching behind. Simba wanted to go. More than anything, he wanted to go.

“You know I want to,” Simba turned back to Ber, shifting his weight so he could swing around in front of him. He wrapped his arms around Ber. A bit awkward, because his husband was still holding a baby, but that didn’t matter much to Simba.

He leaned in and kissed Ber, nose, then his cheek. “I love you. I just—I need to this. For me. I don’t know if it makes me selfish or—“

Belle cleared her throat a bit and Simba turned as she gestured to the baby. Simba leaned in and kissed the baby’s soft little head before letting Belle take him from Ber. When she was gone, Simba turned back to Ber and wrapped his arms properly around him, his shoulders, squeezing him tight.

“We are gonna be together again soon, I promise. I will see you in a few days.” He squeezed him tighter, closing his eyes.

BELLE: Belle was struggling.

She didn’t think she would, but as the last one in the house, she realized how still it was. Not quiet, because the house was never quiet, but still. Empty. Once, only Belle and Hades were in this house together, and that had been enough. Then, there had been Opal and that had been enough. Then, the twins and Toulouse and all the animals and this house breathed. Going back just to Hades and Belle felt wrong.

Having her children taken away from her made her feel like she was losing a piece of herself.

She took Bellamy from Toulouse’s arms, crawled into the third row of the car, settling him into his car seat. “I love you,” she told her sweet, chubby faced baby. “I love you so much and I am going to miss you.” Bellamy blinked serenely at her, always so content. “Be brave.”

Belle passed Hades buckling Opal into her car seat. Went out the other door and got Aidan from Simba and Berlioz. She buckled him into the seat next to his brother and gave him a goodbye too, her eyes watering as he started to squirm and twist his face. But Belle just kissed both of them several times and then switched spots, so she could say goodbye to Opal.

“Maman loves you,” she told her daughter, crouching in front of her.

“I know, Maman. I love you, too.”

Belle smiled. “You’re going to be brave, oui?”

“GRRR,” Opal lifted her hands and made claws.

Belle laughed through her tears. “That’s my demon. You keep your Tonton in line.”

“Oui, Maman.”

“I will see you soon.”

“Bye-bye.”

Belle slipped out of the car and stumbled right into Toulouse’s arms. He squeezed her shoulders and she cried against him, hiding her face away from Opal.

“You will see them soon,” Toulouse told her, rubbing her shoulder. She nodded and pulled away. She reached up and touched his cheek and then popped up on her tiptoes. She kissed his cheek and then his lips softly.

“Take care of them, alright? And yourself. Don’t worry about us. I love you.”

Toulouse’s cheeks were pink and his eyes were glassy but he nodded and blinked quickly. “Oui, je t’aime. À bientôt.”

BERLIOZ: Simba told him what Berlioz knew was coming. And yet it was still like swallowing a rock, a rock that fell through him and kept falling, and would keep falling, as long as Simba was away from him.

In that moment, all he could do was hold onto Simba and trick himself into believing otherwise.

The only comfort he had was turning back to the past. As he squeezed Simba back, he could see the edges of every obstacle they climbed over. There was a whole fucking mine field of them, his last five or six years a battlefield strewn with debris. But he was on the other side, or at least, nearly there. Simba had come back from worse, hadn’t he? Wasn’t Taka worse than this? (Debatable-- a different kind of evil than openly vengeful vampire relatives.) Wasn’t Hell opening worse than this? (Would Hell open again, this time without Berlioz to fetch him back?)

And Simba promised.

Berlioz didn’t believe in a lot of things--and there had been a time when Simba’s word had become a flimsy thing-- but these days, Simba’s word was eternal. It was wrapped in gold and pressed forever into Berlioz’s finger. If Simba promised, he promised.

If Simba broke that promise, Berlioz would just have to open hell himself this time, and make him regret it.

He pulled away, but only so he could kiss Simba gently, their lips as gentle as hands meeting in prayer. Then he pulled back again, but this time, for real. “I love you,” he murmured. “So don’t bloody die.”

And then he climbed into the car.

HADES: Hades was struggling, too.

Hades was a lucky man-- and wasn’t that a problem? As he helped his kids into the car, he could count all his riches with his own eyes. His daughter. His sons. His wife, who was stronger than him, even with tears in her eyes (or maybe because she had tears in her eyes, but was unafraid of them). And a partner in Lou, who was a different kind of strong-- maybe the best word was reliable, the way the moon was in its cyclical waxing and waning; it knew the art of both dark and light.

He didn’t want to lose any of them. With Lou and the children gone, he felt crippled in a way-- like tourmaline had been laced around his neck or Zira would boast another one of those goddamn charms that shielded her from his power. For a brief moment, he worried he was the one who would let them down-- that he wouldn’t be strong enough, without them.

But he did not hold onto that thought for long.

He would have to find a different strength, so he could meet them at the coastline the way he had promised. And perhaps that in itself would be Hades’s new weapon: a vision of himself arriving at sunset, gold tossed in Opal’s hair as she dashed through the sand into his open arms. He’d smell the sea, taste it on Lou’s lips, tuck himself into a holiday if only for a little while. But only once he earned it.

He drifted toward Lou and Belle, and his hand instinctively moved to graze Lou’s back. “And don’t let Opal boss you around too much, eh?” he mentioned as a light joke, before leaning in to kiss Lou gently, and then whisper in his ear. “We’ll come for you.”

He stepped back, reached for Belle’s hand to squeeze it-- to hold it like an anchor-- while his family drove away.

#swynhades #swynbelle #bdrpsimba #LOUD #bellou #loud bell #berlou #touba #big fam #À bientôt #so many tags lol #otp: saltmates #otp: you're a dick #otp: extremely loud and incredibly close #otp: you are inevitable #for the record a bientot means goodbye in french #so i thought it was fitting

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elles-writing · 3 years

Text

The Sounds of Home - Kili x reader

Kili x reader

Requested: Yes, by @terri205

Request: Hello there - I read one of your previous posts about taking requests so here i am asking for a drabble or oneshot with some domestic life / husband x wife with children with Kili even though his character died I really cannot get over him. Hope you are still writing for him . ( dwarf x human if that helps .. also can the height difference be erased for now ? Yk Aidan is a tall boy 😁🙃 ) wish you having a great day!

Word count: around 3k

A/N: Of course!! I write a lot for Kili, because I feel like there’s not a lot of fanfics for him, that people actually think more of Fili and Thorin, but hey, this little cute pup needs love too! (Just like Lindir. He’s also adorable.) And I’ve red somewhere on Pinterest that Thorin is actually tall 5′2 ft, which is like only solid 2 inches smaller than me (okay, I’m barely 5′4 ft)!! And Kili’s only a bit smaller than Thorin!! I’ll look for that picture and if I find it, i’ll put it here.

A/N II: I feel like my writting sucks at most of this one, I’m so sorry! I wanted it to be much, much better, but I just somehow don’t really know how to rewrite it, so I’m posting it anyways. I want to write something similar in the future, so I’ll tag you to it.

A/N III: I wrote some extra part and edited it, so now I can say I’m quite happy with it!

Tw: pregnancy, mentions of sex

Okay, so here it is. I found it on pinterest, but it’s from tumblr @richardarmitagequotes . Here is the link to it.

Playlist you don’t have to listen, but I was writting during listening to these songs: Taylor Swift - cartigan, Taylor Swift - exile, The Chainsmokers - Paris, Porcelain Black - One Woman Army, Taylor Swift - august,

It was such a long time ago when did this happened...

This was how you started your children’s bedtime story, which was their favourite - it was the story of how did their parents - you and Kili - have met and long adventure that was avaiting behind them to reclaim Erebor. About you, a young human girl, who was curious and wanted to see the world, and him, young dwarf prince, who wanted to help to reclaim his home again. And surely wasn’t counting on finding love, but yet you were here - Kili, you and your children - living in a cottage a bit aside from Erebor and Dale.

It was a sunny day, you and your children working at the garden. You were in the middle of placing tomatoes to your handbasket, when a loud scream came to your ears. You looked up and sighed at the sight of your son scaring your daughter with earthworm on a stick, which was moving around.

“Vili, stop scaring Ainiel with that earthworm. Go back to taking out the carrots out, alright? And let Ainiel to pick the berries.” Your son shook his head and went back to taking out the carrots, putting the earthworm to his hand and mumbling something to it before putting it back to the hole, where was one big carrot before.

You looked at him by the corner of your eye. He has the same hair as his father, face features, very similar personality, the only thing was his eyes - they were brown with slight e/c in them. Your daughter has gotten her father’s hair texture, face shape and a bit of his joking personality, but from you she’ve gotten her bookworm-self, able to read all day, and thinking carefully about things. Otherwise, she would be your dupe.

You looked over to your youngest child - your second daughter, who was sitting in the grass and creating a flower tiara from daisies. When she was done, she jumped up and with squealing runned to her sister and putted the tiara on her head. She let out a bubbly laugh, as toddlers do, and runned to you.

“Mama, Ainiel is a princess! I am a princess! Mama is a princess!” And placed flowery tiara she finished earlier in your hair. You smiled and she sat down to you, looking up to sky.

“Is there going to be a storm?” You looked up and noticed the dark clouds, quickly approaching. You took your youngest daughter to your arms, your basket hanging from your forearm.

“Vili, take the carrots, Ainiel, take the basket with berries, Lila...” you looked in the toddler’s eyes.

“Hold your tiara, dearie.” You looked over the garden and noticed movement on the other side of the garden on your backyard. Then someting let out a ‘meow’.

It’s probably just some cat, you thought when a typical little furry tale glimpsed through the grass. It wasn’t unusual for cats to be wondering around your house, since in a Dale many people were having cats as pets.

When you were inside, a hard rain started. You sighed out, placed Lila and the basket with tomatoes down in the kitchen, and went over to fireplace to start a fire.

Once the room was filled with warm light and sound of cracking wood, your children started with washing and clearing the vegetables. Vili and Ainiel only, because Lila was sitting on the chair cuddled in blanket. She was afraid of thunders and storms, and even though there was no thunder, there was sometimes a lightning across the sky and she squealed and jumped up.

You made a luke-warm tea for Lila and while she was sipping it, you were cutting the vegetables and meat and cooking stew.

Once the meal was done, you looked out through the window. It was raining really hard still, so you decided to take your children and cuddle behind the fireplace with tea and either read to them or tell them some story.

Once you and your children sat down, blankets were all over the place and Vili and Lila fighting over one of them.

“Lila, give it to me, you have it all the time!”

“No, I want it! Give it to me!” Vili teared out the blanket from her hands and she squealed when she fell down. She started sobbing and then vailing. Vili’s eyebrows furrowed and he kneeled down to her.

“I’m so sorry, Lila, I didn’t wanted to hurt you! Look, you can take the bla-” She teared the blanket from his hands and stick out her tongue on him. He was surprised and inhaled, but Lila jumped on him and started beating his chest by her little fists.

“I’m as strong as you!” Vili squealed when she took his hair and started to pulling them. You quickly took her off of him, careful not to pull his hair more, but a few of them stayed in your daughter’s grasp.

“You’re getting way too energetic, young lady. What’s all this about?” You sat down and she was sitting in your lap.

“He wanted to take my blanket and I fell down.” She didn’t dared to look up at you.

“It’s because the two men in Dale two weeks ago were doing this?” She mumbled a response and you shook your head.

“Lila, that’s not how you are supposed to solve problems. First, you need to talk about it. Don’t be that-” then a loud thunder and sharp lightning scrossed the sky and Lila squeaked.

“M-momma, I’m so afraid!” She nuzzled to your chest and you wrapped a blanket around the two of you. Vili and Ainiel sat next to you, wrapped in blankets.

“Will you tell us the story, momma?” Ainiel asked you, breaking the silence. A slight smile stretched your lips.

“You already know that one backwards.”

“That’s not true, I cannot say it backwards!” Vili protested and Ainiel shook her head.

“That means we already know it really well, you dumb dwarf.” Lila let out a laugh.

“Will you tell us the part with Master Baggin’s home? The beginning?” Vili made a pleading puppy look, that he surely got from his father, and you sighed.

“Okay.”

“And that one when you confessed your love?” Ainiel asked. You smiled and nodded.

“I will. So, I came here with Balin, and I didn’t wanted to be rude, because, as you know, hobbits are peaceful beings and they don’t like when someone is rude, so I just sat aside. Then, there was another knock on the door, and I told him I will open. I opened the door, and there were two young dwarves, one with blonde hair and blue eyes and the other one with dark hair and brown eyes. Me and the younger one froze in spot and the whole Shire must’ve hear us, because we both screamed: ‘YOU?!’. It was that dwarf I saved from two orcs and kicked his butt before, calling him very...spicy names for doing such a stupid thing.”

“How did you called him?” Vili pleated. You’ve never told them, that first words adressed from you to their father were ‘What were you thinking, you fucking fool?! Two big orcs twice your size?! If I wouldn’t save you, you would be dead by now!’.

It was a few days since you’ve left your home for an adventure, where Gandalf invited you.

You were thankful to the few of dwarves that lived near the village you’ve lived in, whom teached your father how to fight, which he teached you. You could get a few nice hours of sleep at night, because you didn’t have to worry about not being able to defend yourself.

The next day, around a down, settling down your things to prepare for a camp, a loud scream cutted the silence. You looked up. It sounded as if somebody needed a help.

You quickly and as quietly as you could, runned to that spot. You looked through the bushes and noticed somebody - a male - trying to fight with two orcs double size of him. One of them was holding his leg, the other one his arm and he was trying to fight with them, but you assumed they took his weapons, since he had nothing but a dagger. You quickly let out an arrow, which went straight through orc’s head, and he fell dead. You jumped out of your hiding spot and the other one chuckled darkly in black speech. You growled and jumped aside when he was trying to catch you. He tried to stab you with his sword, but you were way too quick. You jumped up at tree stump and stabbed him by your sword in it’s back. The orc fell dead, down to the ground.

You looked over to that male - a dwarf, you thought, because of his ears and he was as tall as you - and he was staring at you with awe in his eyes. Adrenalin was still in you from the fight in your veins and you got angry.

“What were you thinking, you fucking fool?! Two big orcs twice your size?! If I wouldn’t save you, you would be dead by now!” He snapped from his expression and quickly started gathering his weapons.

“I didn’t needed help, you know?! I could-I would be able to win over them!” You snorted in very un-lady like way while taking out your sword and arrow.

“Of course, but before that, you would be their dinner.” You looked over your shoulder and shook your head. No. He has just stupid brown puppy eyes.

“That’s not true!” He got angry, slightely offended. You smirked.

“All right then. You’d be their midnight snack.” You chuckled when noticed his face to redden and looked away to get to your place where you wanted to camp.

You couldn’t stop thinking about that man since then. And your angry behaviour, which you were quite sorry for.

“That’s not appropiate for your ears, children. So, where did I ended? Oh, I know!” Vili and Ainiel shimmed closer to you.

“Then, the blonde one looked at both of us and asked: ‘Where do you know each other from?’. The brown-haired muttered something under his breath and I sighed. ‘I didn’t wanted to be so rude, you know?’ He looked up at me, eyes wide, mouth slightely open and cheeks red. I got into house and...who do you think was that?” You asked your children and Ainiel, the quick thinker, was first one to answer that.

“Uncle Fili and Adad, mommy!” She grinned and you stroke her hair.

“Excellent. Now-” You inhaled to talk again, but Ainiel interrupted you.

“Now the wedding, mommy! How was the wedding? Was it big? Was it beautiful?” Her face lighted up in happiness, that was her favourite part. Vili just snorted.

“Girls. Why the wedding? It’s so boring!” You chuckled.

“One day you will find your own significant other and you won’t be snorting at the mention of weddings, because you will be the eager one to plan it all out.” Said voice behind you. You and your children turned around and found your soaking-wet, but madly-grinning husband. Vili squealed, excited, and while trying to get to him, be tripped over his own legs and blanket and landed at the floor. Lila’s fluttered open and she yawned as she woke up from her slumber, and once she noticed her father, she squealed in joy and tried to get to him, her arms opened for a hug.

“Adad! You’re home!” He picked Vili up from the floor and with a grin on his face, he picked up Lila too and spun them around. The sight of him with your children, his face lighted up with joy and absolute adoration for them was a thing that made you to appreciate every single moment like that you had.

Kili placed his two children to the ground, and even if all three of them were wet now, they didn’t really cared. You stood up.

“Now, I see, you are ready to change in something dry.” Kili looked over to Vili and Lila.

“Who’s going to be the first one changed, gets the most cookies!” Before you could even blink, Vili and Lila were already rushing to their rooms to change, and Kili went to your bedroom to change, too.

Ainiel turned to you.

“What about the wedding, mommy? How was it?” You sat down to her.

“So, at first, it was before the battle of five armies. Me and your father, your uncle, nobody knew if we will survive, so we decided to do it without unnecessary formalities. We just changed vows, gifts, kissed and braided each other’s hair.” And lost our virginities that night.

“After the battle and when Dale and Erebor was rebuilded, we got married with all of the formalities that are necessary in royal family. It was a big and eventful wedding, very loud, too. Something like celebration on Durin’s Day, but three times louder, with more dancing.” She nodded with a serious expression.

* Extra *

After the dinner (and promised cookies, which got Vili and Lila) and when your children went to sleep, you and Kili stayed together in the living room, cuddled under a blanket.

„How was your day, amralime?“ You asked him while making circles inside his palm. Kili softly kissed the top of your head.

„Uneventful and boring, givanshel. Meeting got longer today, and thanks to the storm, I was even more late than I would be. How was today for you, my precious queen?“ You felt his hand lazily making circles over the fabric on your stomach and smiled.

„Just like any other day, my dear husband. Two out of our three children took their personality after you, making every day an adventure,“ He softly chuckled and kissed your temple from the back.

„It all started with one adventure,“ He said in a low voice. You sighed softly.

„Yes, indeed it did. But I saved your butt before that adventure,“ His fingers started to make way to your hips and sides.

„Of course, my dear wife,“ He started tickling you, and you tried to giggle as quietly as possible to not to wake the children. You turned around, so you now faced Kili and sat on his lap. You kissed his nose, then his lips, and he smiled to the kiss. He pulled you closer.

„Mhmm, amralime,“ He whispered when you pulled away for air. You pushed a few strands of his hair out of his face, looking deep to his loving brown eyes

„You should go to sleep. You are tired,“ You said. He raised a brow.

„I can stay awake as long as you’d like me to.“ His eyes got that mischievous spark you knew way too well.

„I may be in love with you, but you cannot fool me, my precious prince.“ You kissed his cheek softly.

„So you want to say you’d turn down an opportunity for making love on the floor, or just right here, right now?“ You gasped and punched his shoulder softly.

„Kili!“ His sparkling eyes were watching you, while his lips tugged up into a smirk.

„You didn’t minded that when we moved in,“ He winked at you and your cheeks burned red.

„You’re right,“ You muttered and he laughed.

„But I wanted to talk to you about something...something else,“ You nervously rubbed your hands together. He furrowed his brows and cupped your cheek in his palm, making you to look at him.

„What’s wrong, Amralime?“ You felt his body tense. He was fully awake, and you just shook your head with a small smile.

„Nothing is wrong.“

„What is it, then?“ You placed his palm to your stomach. Kili’s eyes widened in realization, experiencing this for the fourth time.

„Are you-are you really-do you mean-?“ You slowly nodded.

„Around a week,“ A grin stretched across his lips and he took you to his arms, kissing your whole face, dancing around your living room.

„We’re going to have another baby, I cannot-oh Mahal, I can’t believe that!“ He kissed your lips with a smile.

„You need to rest, givanshel.“ He started walking towards your bedroom.

„I can walk on my own, Kili.“ You laughed and he kissed your temple as he kicked the door to your bedroom open.

„Well, you need to rest a lot now, so no walking for you, my love.“ He placed you down to your shared bed and you giggled.

„I need to walk at some point. Who will cook?“ Kili kicked off his boots and laid to you, placing you to his chest and resting his palm on your still flat belly. He kissed your temple and blinked, so he wouldn’t start crying out of pure happiness.

„You know how it ended up every time you ever tried to cook,“ You reminded him and he grimaced.

„Oh, c’mon amralime, I’m not that bad at cooking!“

„You cutted yourself while cutting the vegetables and then burned the soup.“

„Oh hush amralime,“ He muttered and you laughed.

„Amad was giving me a cooking lessons,“ He blurted out suddenly. You raised a brow and turned to him.

„When we were over for Durin’s day last year. Well, rather Amad was teaching me, while Lila and Ainiel were watching over the kitchens in general, and Vili, well,“ He looked sleepishly down on you.

„Vili was messing around with Fili,“ You rolled your eyes.

„I’ve noticed them, of course. I’m glad Erebor is still standing,“ You both chuckled and he started rubbing small circles on your belly. You sighed and hugged your husband closer. He kissed your forehead.

„Sleep, Amralime. You need to rest.“

„You too, Amralime. Good night.“

„Good night, my princess.“

#kili x reader #kili x you #kili #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit au #kili durin #kili-x-reader #request

108 notes · View notes

heartofsnark · 3 years

Text

Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Nine): Lazarus Rises

Notes: I’m on a roll with writing this. I’m honestly, a little nervous with sharing this chapter since i go more into Johnny’s backstory and like...my headcanon of it since CDPR gave us nothing. But hopefully it works. I also haven't written Johnny's voice in a while, so ahhhh.

Word Count: 12098

Chapter Warnings: Death, brief mentions of child abuse, drug use, alcohol, war, ableism, pov switches but not in the usual way.

If you haven’t yet, you can read the previous chapter here!~

Oblivion wraps around her like a blanket.

There is no existence.

No pain.

No world.

No V.

No Aidan.

Every anxious little thought, every guilt soaked burden; swept away with the reaper’s scythe. Years of running and death has finally caught her.

Then all at once it seems to let her go.

It's a flicker at first, neurons firing up again, rewriting and rebuilding themselves. No true sensation or senses; just existence. World still dark and lost to her, but not she is not lost to it, or some version of her isn’t.

Pain hits her before anything else, a crack in her skull, or where her skull should be. She has no sense of her body, only the vague notion she exists and is in pain. And when every sense returns, the world coming back….

It’s not her own.

There’s a fog around her, a fuzzy filter muting it all. Like trying to recall a memory from too long ago. And she sees and she hears, in a body that isn’t hers. She’s smaller, the world seeming to tower around her. A blazing sun burning overhead in the bright blue of the sky. Playing outside on a sweltering day with bruised knees and grass stains on cheap children’s jeans. A mothers voice calling for Robbie to come home for lunch. She catches a reflection in a puddle, there’s a blur to it, but the dirt smeared face of a dark haired boy looks back at her...at himself… for a moment.

The world shifts and with it comes a pain she can’t truly feel, a belt whipping through the air and welting a back that isn’t her own. Vision blocked by skinny arms marked with cigarette burns, hiding a face from the next lash. A boot gnashing into his side, the thick fog protecting V from the pain he feels. When he clambers to his feet, spitting blood she can’t taste, despite seeing vignettes through his eyes. He walks through a musty home, where the floorboards creak and threaten to break under his feet. A mirror showing a dark eyed boy with a split lip.

Then she’s watching the hands of this boy she doesn’t know, playing guitar. He plucks and strums at strings until they bite into his fingers, until he leaves them speckled with blood. And then he plays more. Gifted an acoustic, stole his first electric but forgot to klep the amp alongside it.

Playing in a musty crowded garage with a young boy with olive skin. Each playing away on instruments, the sounds and words all muffled to V. The pair play badly until they play great, she doesn’t hear, but she knows…

Tequila and cigarettes before he’s old enough to buy them. V can faintly feel the burn of the booze and the warmth of the smoke.

Stealing anything that can be tucked away in his pockets. Spray painting every wall he sees. Cherry bombs in mailboxes, picking a fight with anyone who sets him off and most people do. The faint burning of anger in his chest, she can feel it as if it’s her own. In and out of detention centers, a system that can put him away for petty theft, but never lift a hand to stop his father...

Military reps scouting out young, poor troubled boys, seeing nothing but canon fodder when they look at him.

Knocking on the door and that same olive-skinned, dark haired friend answering. She can hear the words but knows what’s being said without them. Both fog and clarity. ‘Robbie’ is enlisting, off to say his final goodbye to Kerry, a name she doesn’t know how she knows. He comes running down the street after him, before ‘Robbie’ can get too far away. Neither old enough, children. One made of lank and the other with baby fat still clinging to his cheeks. But the military knows boys can take bullets just as well as men. They need bodies, age irrelevant. Forged documents with Robert John Linder scratched across it. That name...

Blurs of training, a mop of dark hair shaved from his head. Separated from Kerry, stationed in different platoons, finding another friend who sticks by his side; both hardened by the military. Lank becoming muscle. Give optics, interface plugs, tech he doesn’t want, but they pry open his skin and put it in anyway. Anything to make him a better soldier.

Then they’re in combat, muffled gunfire. People brutalized; shot, blown apart and chrome shoved into whatever remains; treated cruelly both by the enemy and the corps that shipped them out there. The heat of Mexico and the smell of gunpowder. Enemy ambush, the faint ting of a grenade hitting the ground. Then Robert is on the ground, shoved there and the body of a friend draped over his own. A heavy boom, shrapnel tearing through his left arm and size, burns across the skin. But nothing compared to his friend… A grenade meant for him is taken by another, the pair rushed away to medical attention when the air clears.

He wakes up without a left arm and scars across his torso, pulling tight at his skin. His friend gone, remains thrown out and tags offered to Johnny, the man who died for him nothing but a number, canon fodder in the corp’s war. Not even a day passes before they’re shoving chrome onto what’s left of Robert’s shoulder, eager to give him another chance to die for them.

So, he runs, deserting and heading to a Night City that V has never seen. He climbs into a dirty motel bed and refuses to crawl back out, watching a ceiling fan turn until Kerry pulls him out. Older, more weathered, still young but neither of them quite the children they were before they saw the war.

And music becomes his life. Kerry and him scream their words into any microphone they can find. Blaring concerts, they sound as if they’re coming from three rooms over to the merc, but she can feel the energy through the memory. Long nights writing lyrics and melodies. A band forming around them, three more members coming into the fold. Grimy smoke filled clubs and a cramped pathetic excuse of a tour bus. Shows that turn into riots.

Cigarettes and tequila aren’t enough anymore. He pops pills like candy, snorts anything that will go up his nose, drinks everything but vodka, and fucks any pretty thing that looks his way.

A woman with freckles and blue mohawk kicks his ass when she catches him balls deep inside a groupie.

A blonde thrown into the back of a van.

An anger and rage burning like wildfire in his chest.

It all blurs and rushes; V never fully feeling what’s going on. All senses are fogged, seeing the snapshots of someone’s life through his own eyes. But she doesn’t feel linked, still distanced from it all. Barely able to think or decipher what she sees through the haze of it all. Just watching blips of a life not her own flickering by, with knowledge she shouldn’t have.

Its the feeling of graffiti covered steel pressing against hands that first pushes through the fog. Hands that feel like they’re hers, but aren’t. One inked flesh and the other chrome. V can feel the body move as if it’s her own, but she has no command of it, muscles flexing to open double doors. Surrounded by the halls of a grimy little club. She can smell smoke and sweat, she’d gag but she can’t seem too.

There’s music somewhere, muffled by distance but nothing else now.

Fog lifted, she's both connected enough to it to feel everything, but separate enough to question what the hell is going on? There’s a tangled mess of emotions in her...his…. Their head. Her own fear, anxiety, mingled with a burning rage pitting in his core.

There’s a girl leaning against the dirty wall of the club, watching V...or whoever she’s stuck inside of as they walk down the hell. A little smile playing on her lips. Thoughts flitter around V, in a voice that’s not her own. Chick’s cute enough, might of been worth a quick fuck, if he wasn’t rushin’ for time.

“Hey…”

V wants to ask her what’s going on, if the girl has any idea, what the girl sees when she looks at her. But her hands don’t move to sign and when she feels her mouth move, a different voice, different words, come out. The same rough voice that thought of fucking the girl in a dressing room.

“Hey.”

“You all right?”

No, none of this is alright. V screams inside a head not her own, but she can feel the pride rolling in his chest, a smirk on his face. There’s an anger mixed with it, he’s going to settle a score, leave a mark. Those thoughts and feelings rattling around.

“Never been better.”

“Sure don't look it…’

There’s a scoff in his throat, she’s got no idea what he’s got planned. He continues around the corner, a man at the end of the hall standing before a set of double doors. The letters above say its backstage. Green hued fluorescent lights only draw attention to the grime as his boots click over the floor. That smell of cigarettes and sweat still hangs heavy around her, she thinks it may be coming from him, the man she’s playing passenger in. Oh god, that smell is him, isn’t it…

What the hell is even happening? Dex killed her, didn’t he?

“I can't let you on!” The man yells out at him.

The fuck he can’t. His anger flares, a sliver left arm brought up, slammed into the guy's throat as he’s shoved into a wall, a gun held in chrome fingers. There’s a mirror against it and V can see the man she’s living life through now. And those foggy vignettes press at her, he’s much older now. Face angry and with a scruffy beard, dark hair grown to his shoulders.

His name was Robbie..? Robert.. ? Something, like that.

“Hey hey, we're chill,” the man begs ‘Robert’. He certainly looks too old to be a Robbie.

‘Robert’ lets the guy go with sneer, furious the guy would ever try to get in his way as he marches towards the doors. Abandoned music equipment and the music shoots in volume, a man blocking ‘Robert’ from getting up to a stage. Where four people play what sounds like older dad punk rock.

‘That smack, drag drunken roll

Chips are bashin' in my top

Ridin' high, my slots are shot

Metal burnin' beneath my skin

I'm chippin' in, chippin' in’

V would wince if she had control of her face, his face, does she even have a face anymore? The music is good, but painfully loud, something she could enjoy if only she could lower the volume. Phantom limbs she no longer has urge to turn the volume down on hearing aids that don’t exist.

“Heh… 'course you're high.” The bouncer in front of the stairs rolls his eyes at ‘Robert’ then steps aside.

‘Robert’ climbs up the short staircase, music painfully loud to V but exactly where he feels at him, bright lights down on him. A familiar face, Kerry from ‘Robert’s’ memories, is the one who sings.

Until he’s pushed out of the way, gun still in ‘Robert’s’ hand as he grabs the microphone. Looking out into a crowd of people who stare up at him, an entire club room of people cheering and yelling for him. Shirts with tha bright red demon symbol, Samurai across it. Adoring fans, hearing his words, people who know his message, heard it loud and clear. Common men and women beaten down by the corps that rule their lives, that tear them all down for the chance to make an eddie. And tonight he’ll show them all there’s a bite to his bark; he’ll make his mark, topple Arasaka and do what he should have done years ago.

“Tonight I'm…” he pauses, leaving that mark may be the death of him, he’s damn near sure it will be, “I'm here to say goodbye to all of you.

And he begins to play to the cheering crowd, a final show before he changes the world. V would cry out if she had the mouth to do it. Music shakes the venue, ‘Robert’ playing guitar and screaming lyrics into a mic, completely taking the show from Kerry. He channels his anger, his fury, into his music. Screams his rage into the mic. And it's a cacophony for the merc tucked in the back of his skull. She can feel her own stress and pain, but she also feels his energy, his love of this. Even through the anger, he knows that this is the place he belongs.

This is hell, she thinks as he sings. The idea that every hell is tailored to an individual, everyone has their own personal idea of torment. This is her’s. She died and now she’s doomed to live in the head of some foul smelling rocker who plays nothing but music her sort of ex liked. Surrounded by loud sounds, foul smells, and no control. This is hell, her own special little hell. And she’ll be stuck here forever, for being an atheist or bi or a whore or a murderer… one of those did it.

After an agonizing hour, the show closes down. More sweat is now clinging to her current vessel’s body and V mentally screams at him to take a shower, but no panicked thoughts seem to reach him. He’s completely unaware of her...presence… in his head. Sweat slick, ‘Robert’ puts away his axe and lights up a cigarette; smoke settles in his lungs, the cloying taste of tar sticking to his mouth. But there’s a relief in him, a tension leaving him, nicotine soothing him if only for a moment.

Two women are settled down on the steps of the stage, in clinging tacky clothes. Groupies there to claw their way into the pants of anyone who’ll have them, entire fucking lives dedicated to riding the dick of someone more important than them. Because playing fleshlight to a rockerboy is the closest they’ll ever get to making a difference in this world.

“You're wastin' your lives, followin' us around like dogs.”

If she had hands she’d hit him. The women scowl at him, obviously taken back at the rockerboy talking down to them, like he hadn’t been thinking of fucking a girl just before the show. Like his eyes didn’t look over the curve of their asses and cleavage. If one of them asked he’d be inside of them in a moment, just has to make them feel like shit first.

“What crawled up your ass?’

‘Robert’ sneers and rolls his eyes, walking past the stage. His fingers wrapping around the door handle, he was thinking about something he was going to do, toppling Arasaka. There’s a determination in his walk, a goal he’s marching off too, still hints of a soldier in his steadfast gait. The hell is he planning? How could some rockerboy take down a mega corp? There’s a faint but steady sound past the door, a whirring sound.

“Johnny, wait up!”

He turns, answering to the name she hasn’t heard until now and it’s Kerry running towards him; chasing after him like he did all those years ago, when he followed ‘Robbie’ right to war. She’s not sure if it’s her or ‘Johnny’ remembering it.

Kerry is older now than he was in the memories, though he looks younger than Johnny. A tall fluffy mullet of dark hair, a scraggly mustache, and a half finished sleeve of ink on his left arm. His hand wraps around Johnny’s wrist, pulling him the rocker closer.

“Don't do this,” Kerry warns, “You can still change your mind.”

“Get over here man,” Johnny pulls Kerry in closer, a hand cupped to his friend’s face,“Fuck this band. Not your crowd, not your noise, do your own thing.’

They’re close enough to see the scar above Kerry’s lip and the freckles that dot his neck. Johnny taps his finger against Kerry’s chest as he brings his hand from the shorter man’s face. Kerry’s always cared more for the music than the message, more about fame than impact, Samurai more Johnny’s baby then his. But fears kept Kerry from chasing that solo dream as much as he wants, dipping his toes but never taking the chance to fully dive in. Kerry always needed a good kick in the ass to get where he needs to be, might be the last one Johnny can ever give him.

“Bastard. Tsh… Gonna miss you something awful.”

There’s a softness in Kerry’s voice and smile, a fondness that only comes from lifelong friends. A soft warmth nestles in Johnny’s chest as well, for the first time she feels his lips pull into something she can almost call a smile.

“See ya in the next life, friend.”

With that Johnny puffs on his cigarette and turns, leaving out the door, the whirring growing louder. The source of it shown; a helicopter landed outside the club, blades spinning and whipping up dust. A woman stands nearby, a wild teal mohawk, someone Johnny knows, fuzzy memories of a tumultuous past.

“You're late,” she yells out over the sound of the chopper. Hands on her hips, eyes glaring at him. Always tries to play like she’s pissed, but never could resist him.

“Love it when you're mad. Gets my southern blood pumpin',” he teases with a grin and V can feel the reality of his words, a throb in his dick behind his leather pants. And she doesn’t like that, her discomfort at feeling what it’s like to have a dick oddly mingling with his lust.

“Get in. 'Fore I change my mind.”

Johnny makes his way to the helicopter, climbing inside, blades achingly loud. Two people already sit in the chopper. A man with chromed skin and fatigues, a woman fiddling with a computer. Her face is obscured by a helmet and visor, only black painted lips showing.

“Silverhand,” the man greets him.

Johnny...Silverhand…

“Hey, Shaitan,” he greets as gears start to turn in V’s head, a head she no longer has.

Johnny’s ex, Rogue, comes walking towards the helicopter as he turns back to the open doorway. Her name only known through Johnny’s thoughts skittering around her, but it sounds strangely familiar to V as well. Johnny extends a hand to help Rogue into the chopper, but she ignores him. Prideful bitch, he rolls his eyes.

“Get us in the air,” Rogue yells to the unseen pilot, shoving a headset into Johnny’s hands, “here, put this on, and it stays on, got it?”

Johnny pulls it on and the helicopter starts to take off, the world falling further and further below them. The sign at the top of the club comes into view; The Hammer, Johnny taking another drag on his cigarette as Kerry steps out the back door. Silverhand flicks the out onto the cement as his friend watches the chopper fly off.

As the helicopter flies through skyscrapers and towers, V struggles to take in where they are. Night City, but not. Towering buildings and screens blasting ads, par for the course in the city of broken dreams. But the ads are for products she hasn’t heard of or ones discontinued and no longer sold. The buildings look rougher, not quite the same slick clean look of the city she’s come to know.

A city consumed by corps, a vile cesspit with ads as far as the eye can see, each desperate to wring out one last eddie from the masses. The entire system designed to crush people too apathetic to do a damn thing about it. Exploited, violated, used for a profit, and thrown out the second the corps get what they wanted. And the people just take it. No longer questioning why there’s no more farms, only land stripped for profits and nomads forced to abandon their homes. No longer questioning why real food is a rarity, why the priciest drink on the market is filth free water. No longer questioning why someone like saburo is pushing a hundred and the average Night City citizen won’t see forty. Corruption and apathy, best friends united to create the city of broken dreams. He’d burn it all down if he could, but truthfully can’t imagine himself anywhere else…

So… he’ll burn it all down, die for it if he must, and something better can be built in it’s ashes.

A building in City Center holds a large holo-display showing the time and date; August 20, 2023… Fifty years in the past, the day Arasaka Tower was destroyed. And given his thoughts, she knows where Johnny is headed. That name, Johnny Silverhead, rattles through her. She’s heard it before, a few times. Half listened to conversations with Ava about music, where V would just nod and hope it earned her pity kiss. A name brought up by Jackie when discussing the tower being blown up, shots thrown back in… Rogue’s bar. The older woman with gray hair and the young adult with a wild teal mullet are one in the same.

V is in the foul smelling, cigarette smoking body of a rockerboy turned wannabe terrorist on his way to set off a nuke that will kill over a quarter million people.

“Piers're on fire. Pacifica's cut off, shut down. APCs on the streets of Watson,” Shaitan explains, stationed at the machine gun turret beside Johnny.

“Sons of bitches.”

“Skull-crackin' out there… that us?” A voice, the pilot maybe, asks over the headset.

“Johnny's idea. Weyland's drawing Arasaka's attention away from the tower.”

“Collateral damage part of the plan, too?”

“This isn't the cub scouts, Thompson, Chew it up, spit it out,” Rogue tells him, no hint of fear or remorse in her voice as the chopper starts to come around a tower.

A pillar of black metal with the Arasaka logo emblazoned at the top of it in silver. Levels of the tower get smaller towards the roof, from the distance there’s the bright red flash of holo warning signs forbidding entry. As they ascend higher and higher, the barrage of Arasaka soldiers and turrets atop the tower come into view.

“Target range acquired.”

“Make it rain,” Rogue commands and Shaitan begins shooting off the machine gun turret.

Gunfire rings through the air, Arasaka soldiers yelling out as they fire back, automated turrets beginning to fire at Shaitan. The chopper stays rotating, hovering but never still, to avoid being shot out of the air as the chromed sniper works to clear the roof. Blood painting across the metal as Shaitan blasts through them.

“Fuck!”

Enemy fire, Arasaka fire, blasts through, Pinging against chrome and metal, practically sparking. A lucky shot, or three, ripping through Shaitan’s shoulder and he screams in pain, falling onto his back. Rogue yelling out as she kneels down to check on him, Shaitan convulsing in pain.

“Taking over!”

Johnny takes over the machine gun, optics connecting with the turret sights. Arasaka soldiers flood the roof, nearly impossible to keep track of them; not even a moment passes before Johnny is firing off the gun. It's rapid and brutal, an onslaught as the reverberation of it shakes his body. But there is a hint of strategy beneath, taking out the automatic turrets first, blasting each one until they explode into shrapnel. Only when the final one is in sparks does he turn to the soldiers, Their sidearms can’t compare to the heavy fire. Blasted full of hole at rapid fire, blood and brains spraying.

A body of corpses and shrapnel left across the roof. He pulls away from the gun, unzipping a duffle bag. A white constructed mechanism, wire, switches, and a giant nuclear energy warning across it. He’s about to plant a nuke in Arasaka. Fucking stop it, you idiot, all you do is cause more harm than good. She tries to scream inside his head, but nothing comes of it. The helicopter lowers down closer to the tower roof.

“Murphy?” Rogue calls out.

“Found our access point. Get moving.”

“Johnny, remember the plan?” Rogue asks as Johnny zips the duffle bag and slings it over his shoulder.

“Get the payload on the elevator,” he jumps from the helicopter, “arm it, let gravity do its thing. Explosion rocks the foundation, tower crumbles - chaos, screaming, roll credits.”

He pulls out a gun, a heavy duty pistol, Malorian Arms 3516, Last True Friend etched in it.He spins it between his silver fingers, flourishing and completely unneeded. It’s smartlink tech, synching with his cybernetic arm. And she can feel a sort of dampening of his feelings and emotions, that rage burning in his chest starting to simmer down, a colder more calculated anger taking over.

Rogue and Murphy run ahead of him, across the roof, through the piles of bodies. Johnny follows behind them down a flight of stairs on the side of the building.

“Exit window's gonna be tight,” Rogue tells him, brandishing her own side arm as she comes to wait by a door.

“Jacking in,” Murphy connects a small computer into an interface, “Is grass green, do birds fly, do cats eat bats, do rats shit gnats?”

“Mainframe's not your playground, Murphy, c'mon. Evac announcement - broadcast it across all frequencies and let's get movin’.”

“Sheesh, who wrote this manifesto?”

“Really need me to answer that question?”

“Jesus, Johnny, you've gone of the deep end. And that's comin' from chairjock,” Murphy tells him, interface with a spider avatar drifting across the door, before it slides open.

Johnny rushes through and down a flight of stairs as Arasaka guards running to meet him. He shoots the first in the head, point blank, brains splattering. The gun is powerful, devastating, sending a reverberation through Johnny’s silver arm. Enough that bone would have broken in the recoil. The guard no longer recognizable.

The second guard stays further back, at the bottom of the second step. Johnny slams a trigger on the back of his gun, shooting flames out towards the guard. The man screams and staggers back, flesh burning as Johnny follows up with a shot through his chest.

A third one follow, stumbling over burning remains, when three shots go through his skull, Rogue taking him down. The two continue down the spiraling stairs, stepping through blood and ash. The meet another guard at the end, who fires off his hand gun rapid fire.

“Shred the whole fuckin' lot!”

The pair take cover behind the corner banister, Johnny reloading his gun with another twirl, before jumping back up. He shoots twice through the guards chest, watching the man fall in a bloody heap as they reach the end of the staircase.

They go through a doorway and two more guards greet them, gun’s trained on the two edgerunners.

“End him already! That’s an or-”

The guard's yell is cut off by a bullet ripping through his shoulder, a second through his chest. His underling going down a mere moment later, with a headshot from Rogue; room cleared. Blood soaking into silver and marble floors. Johnny’s eyes focusing on the elevator across the room.

“Murph?” Rogue calls out the netrunner’s name, her avatar showing on Johnny’s optics as she starts to hack the elevator.

“She sought it with thimbles, she sought it with care, pursued it with forks and hope…” Poem finished, the elevator doors open.

“Johnny payload.” Rogue yells out, but Johnny’s already across the room, making his way to the elevator. He brings the bag down off his shoulder, placing it down, crouching, and unzipping it.

“Bushido II - bomb's name was what?” He asks, in a slow sly voice, entertaining at least himself if no one else.

“Wrap it up, we gotta delta!”

“The ‘Demolitron’,” he sets the charges with a light hand, “we're good to blow.”

He stands up and leaves the elevator, no hurry, only determination in him as he walks back towards Rogue. Like this is just a regular Thursday night.

“'Saka elites incoming! Run for it!”

“Get the fuck out of there, Johnny,” Rogue yells as he steps away, “shoot the cables!”

He does just that, blasting through the elevator cables, the carriage with the bomb dropping down through the lower levels.

“Get the rotors spinning! We're on our way!” Rogue yells out to their pilot, but there’s something rattling around in Johnny’s chest. He’s got to save her. It’s his only chance.

“Not done yet still need to feed this to their subnet,” he waves a small handheld computer in the air. Rogue’s face twists and grimaces, infuriated.

“I fucking knew it!” she swings her hand through the air, fingers clenched like she could strangle him, “This was never about "corporate colonialism" - this was about your groupie output wasn't it?!”

“Nah, you wouldn’t understand, Rogue.”

“Givin' you four fuckin' minutes. Chopper's not gonna wait one sec longer.”

“Door lock breached. Arasaka sons-a-bitches incoming,”

“Love you, Spider,” he jokes as he pushes through double doors, the woodwork of a lobby greeting him a moment before an armed guard can.

“Whole world loves me.’

“Fuuuck!” He yells out, something between a frustration and excitement as he blasts a hole through a guard's chest.

Johnny reloads before stepping out further, quickly having to pull back into the doorway for cover through the marble passageway. Two guards coming from a corridor on the left, a third from the right. The tower is made of rectangular balconies wrapping around, corners and curves to hide around. He fires around the corner at the guard on the left, taking a leg before a second shot takes their hide.

A bullet whips past his head and he pulls back, guard coming to him, in front of the passageway. He slams his hand on the trigger, a plume of flames engulfing his enemy, before finishing them off with another shot. He rounds the corner and slams forwards into the third guard, knocking them off balance for a moment. Johnny swings his fist out, rings colliding against their jaw, they hit the ground. He fires a shot point blank into their head, continuing on his way.

A staircase in the left of the room, across from the stone garden in the midst of the balonied section. He rushes up two sets of stairs, reloading along the way. It brings him to the upper level of the stacked balconies, a guard directly across the gap on the other side. The first shot Johnny fires splits the banister in front of the guard, the second shot rips through them.

Three guards rush out from another room and Johnny pulls back, stepping down some steps, reloading. The movement forces the guards to come through the doorway, one at a time, letting him line up a shot that blasts through two at once, the third gagging as his friends' brains splatter and cling to his face. But he barely gets a moment to process before he’s dead too.

Johnny runs up the stairs, stomping over corpses, as he goes around the corner. There’s a doorway that leads down to what looks to be a board room. One more guard down with a quick clean headshot, brains now sprayed across a vase of flowers on the table. He walks over them around the corner and towards a paneled wall.

“Closing in on the access point,” he tells Murphy and the panel opens up, revealing a main frame.

“Slot in.”

Johnny pulls out a little computer, stickers across the top of it. He flips it open and plugs it into the terminal. A little interface coming across his optics, Uploading Virus: Liberator.

“Sweet ICE-breaker,” the runner speaks up again, “Foreign, right? Just, wonder if we know anyone who can switch the subnet protocol…”

“Hilarious. You gonna help or not?”

“Do spiders spin webs? It's time we caught some flies.”

“Thanks, Murph.”

“Now, just for good measure…”Murphy trails off for just a moment, “Holy cybercow, we’re on TV! Take a look.”

A large TV mounted on the wall pings on, tuned to a news cast. Johnny shifts to the side to watch it. Brief clips of chaos flashing by in snapshots as the anchor talks over them.

“And we turn now to Arasaka Tower, its evacuation ongoing after an unidentified terrorist organization released a manifesto threatening violence. The terrorists stating their desire to, quote-unquote, "topple a monument to corporate colonialism." Night City's mayor, Mbole Ebunike, has issued a statement declaring that he will bring the full force of the law to bear in response to any act of terrorism. Going now to our reporter on the scene at Arasaka Tower. Hopefully, he can shed some light on this situation as events unfold.”

People might finally wake up. There’s a swell of pride in Johnny’s chest, that this will finally send his message, finally change the world for the better. And V thinks of the rebuilt tower, now with remembrance monuments, but rebuilt and still standing proud fifty years later. The virus finishes uploading, Johnny unplugging his computer and tucking it back in his pocket.

Took too long, but better than never. Stay safe, Alt.

“All set. Now get outta there. They're movin' up! Hit the roof, quick!”

Johnny rushes through the board room and around the bends of the squared balcony, heading straight to the double doors on the other side. Just as he reaches it there’s a heavy blast, wood and metal shredding as Johnny is forced backwards.

Pain shoots through his back as it collides with the floor, looking up where the door was blown through. A man stands in the destroyed remains of it. A tall man in heavily armored Arasaka garb, wielding a heavy duty shotgun. Cybernetic arms, a black cyberware jawed, and adornments of metal across his forehead.

“Shit! That's Adam Smasher!”

Adam Smasher, the same borged out man protecting Yorinobu? He jumps down from the ledge, hitting the floor in front of Johnny with a heavy thud. He’s different than in 2077, more human, a healthy more flesh colored face behind the cyberware. Fuck, Johnny curses mentally and starts firing shots at Adam. The devastation of his Malorian doing nothing as they fire into Adam’s cybernetic arms, the top of the line chrome holding up under each fire.

“Johnny, run!”

He wants to fight, wants to teach Smasher a lesson the borged fucker won’t ever forget. Every fiber of his being screaming at him to stand and fight. But there’s a nuke on a timer, falling down to the depths of the tower. There’s a helicopter getting ready to fly off. And while he doesn’t mind dying today, expects he just might, Rogue and Spider are waiting on him. He doesn’t need the last thing he hears to be their nagging… or for Rogue to make the chopper wait on him. So, he swallows his pride, as foul as it tastes, and makes a run for it.

Johnny pistol whips and shoots an Arasaka soldier on his way out the door, reaching the stairs back out to the roof. The door shuts behind him before any more soldiers can come after him.

“Murphy!?”

“Door's sealed, but it won't hold for long. Run, Johnny. Like the wind.”

He can see Rogue ahead of him running up the stairs. She should have been back in the chopper by now, she waited on Johnny. Rogue will bitch him out and nag until she’s blue in the face, but she’d never leave him behind. Wrapped around his finger, no matter what he’s done. Johnny runs quickly up the stairs, to the roof, three steps behind Rogue as she jumps into the chopper, as it starts to lift off without him.

“Johnny! Move!”

He jumps, grabbing Rogue’s outstretched arm, fingers wrapping tight around her forearm. Rogue tries to pull him inside to safety, when his fingers begin to slip. Something fires in the background a whistling noise, as his hand catches in Rouge’s, fingers twisting tightly together as she pulls. A boom rings out, hitting against the chopper with a spark and a shake, he slips right from Rogue’s grip, world going out from under him as she plummets back down to the tower roof. His back hits the metal with a crash, head bouncing against the cement, pain shooting through his body. Pain blurs his vision as the helicopter spins overhead, watching as the pilot regains control and they’re forced to fly off without the ill-fated rockerboy.

Boots thunder against the floor around him, Smasher coming into view. Johnny’s silver arm shakes as he tries to reach for his gun, nerves on fire after the fall. Smasher throws down his heavy shot gun, kicking the gun away from Johnny’s fingers.

“Smasher.”

“Told ya, Johnny boy. Told you I'd end you someday,” Smasher all but snarls, a compartment in his cybernetic arm opening, Johnny’s staring down the barrel of the hidden weapon.

Johnny holds his arm out, only for it to be shot, chrome sparking as it’s blasted. Vision going out as he passes out. It only feels like a moment, a blink and the world returns.

The rattling of wheels against cement, strapped to a gurney. Bright and silver, a moon hangs high above the skyscrapers. Dirt and dust fly through the air, dancing around him like confetti. Faintly he hears sirens, hears screaming, hears cries. And when he shifts his head, to look further back, he can see the plumes of fire and smoke.

“Yes, he’s still alive,” the Arasaka doctor wheeling him says, spoken in Japanese, but understood by Johnny...and by extension the merc tucked in the corner of his mind. Everything hurts, no other memory so sharp, so clear. Able to feel every bruise and cut, like she’s truly him.

“Understood. We're en route,” the worker says above his head.

And Johnny falls back into darkness again, unable to keep conscious, the sound of explosions and chaos erupting around him as he passes out. It’s impossible to know how long, black void blanketing it all, time losing its meaning and grip on them.

It's a sharp slap across his face that wakes him back up, blood clinging to his lips. Blinking as he tries to take in his surroundings. He’s tied down to a chair, two guards standing before him. In a slick little room, a stretch of windows across the back wall, a bright mushroom cloud of destruction going off in the distance. Charge should have finished going off by now…

“Your associates - who are they? How did you acquire fissile material?” The guard questions him.

“Gonna give good cop over there a chance to say something? C'mooon…” Johnny sasses his interrogator, looking at the second quiet guard.

Then the guard sucker punches him, knuckles slamming into Johnny’s gut with a sharp crushing pain.

“Which terrorist organization do you belong to? How did you acquire fissile material?”

Another slap, backhanded and harsh against his face. His head forced to the side where he sees a man walking into the room; an older Japanese man, Saburo Arasaka. The corporate leader walks with his hands behind his back, a younger woman in all black following closely behind.

“Old man don’t look too impressed with your efforts,” Johnny taunts.

Saburo and the guards bow to each other, the old man speaking in Japanese, “leave us. I wish to look him in the eye.”

“Hot damn,” Johnny rolls his eyes, “done and gone.”

Saburo keeps his back turned to Johnny as the guards leave. The woman sets up a tech station by his chair. Her flingers click against a keyboard, looking at a screen before she finally speaks in a soft voice.

“My husband died in that tower.”

And Johnny’s stomach drops, pits with something akin to guilt. He can still see the burning clouds, the explosions in the distance through the window. Something went wrong, charges weren’t meant to be that strong. An evac announcement, charges just meant for the tower, a message. Not this. Casualties sure, everyone knew that was inevitable, but…

“But there are fates worse than death,” the woman tells him, fixing a metal wreath over his head. Wires connecting it back to her computer system.

“I… didn’t want him to die.”

“Why did you do this?” Saburo asks in his native tongue.

“To bring an end to the madness you wreak.”

“I have found that people lie, most often deceiving themselves. Not So the dead…”

Saburo finally turns to face Silverhand walking closer, stalking closer. And Johnny spits at him, blood and saliva now sticking to Saburo’s face, red staining the wrinkled skin. There’s barely a twitch to the old man’s face as he wipes the spittle and blood from his face. Disgusted but not stopped.

“Fuck you!” Johnny yells out for good measure, voice rough in his throat.

“The dead are so very, very loud,” Saburo scowls, “And yet, lying is not in their nature. It is so… humbling - to listen to the dead speak… Begin.”

The techie turns a switch and Johnny’s optics start to glitch, distort. Cyan fuzz piercing through the world as a UI screen appears. Soulkiller Primed: Commencing Engram Transfer. An crackle of electricity starts to course through him, a scream leaving him as his body convulses, Neurons cracking and frying as the world around his shakes, trembles, then finally cracks apart.

And V dies, not for the first time.

Darkness overtakes him, near oblivion. Only the vaguest notion of existence, suspended in time and reality. In a cold black choking void. Enough awareness, just enough, to know fear. Overwhelming fear, terror, trapped under the thumb of Arasaka. Never knowing when, if, there’s an escape. Never knowing what can, will, or has happened.

Time loses all meaning in digital purgatory.

And then sunlight starts to breach through. A haze over his vision, like watching sunlight through fogged glass. He can see the sunlight but he can’t feel it, maybe it’s an Arasaka trick. Trying to convince him he’s free, that he’ll ever see the sun again, just to rip it away before he can ever feel it’s warmth on his skin.

Then the view shifts, like someone turning their head, seeing the world through someone’s eyes. The sun beating down on a campsite, nomads, but their cuts and colors unlike any he’s seen. Not the Aldecaldos for sure, that much he knows. Might be some sort of experiment? Corps have never been above testing shit on people, nomads seen as less than human by most folks in the city, means they get away with it.

Someone calls the name Aidan, a mother calling for her child, the girl...he’s seeing the world through That feeling that knowledge seeping into him. A tent with an older woman and a young girl, a mirror in the tent catches a reflection, showing him Aidan. A young sunburnt nomad child with dark hair and gray eyes Nearly identical to the other child he’d just seen.

And in a blink, like a slide changing, the world changes again. Training sessions for the nomad kids. Taught to be strong. The kids made to fight each other, to spar, and losing meant going without food for the rest of the day if they were lucky. A beating if they were considered particularly pathetic. Some nights she won. Other nights watching other kids eat. The worst nights spent in a tent, mother rubbing salve on her injuries.

She’s taught how to load a gun, repair an engine, and kill without shaking before she’s seen her seventh birthday.

Members of the ‘family’ culled before everyone. Because they were sick. Because they were weak. Because they were a burden. They could drag the rest of the family down, The Herd must be culled so that they can stay strong. For the best of the family.

Gareth, an older man of the nomad family, gets sick. cancer running rampant in his body, treatment available but timely… expensive. He’d sneak toasted marshmallows to Aidan on nights she’d be made to go without anything….

He begs to die on his feet rather than his knees like most cullings.

His wish is denied.

Aidan’s father forces a dying man to his knees, pressing a captive bolt pistol to the back of his skull and killing him in front of the family. For their own good.

And one day, Aidan gets sick too. Johnny can’t feel it through her, through the snapshots, too disconnected. But he gets a rumbling of it through her. Body aching, head in agony, world constantly spinning enough to make her puke.

She tells no one. Refuses to be the next one culled, no doubt her father’s rules apply to her. Her sister, the same age and near a picture perfect copy, frets over her as they go to pick through a landfill. Instructed to spend evenings in search of anything useful to the family, to earn their keep. A ringing in her ears, world spinning as the noise builds and builds until silence strikes and she drops to the ground.

The world has gone silent. She wakes up in a med tent, but can hear nothing. A world of noises and chaos now silent.

And a stone faced father comes barging in, he’s saying something, but she doesn’t know what. Flinching in threadbare sheets, knowing the signs of his cold anger, but not what’s driving it, not how to fix it. Nails dig into her shoulder, dragged from the medical tent and out into the midst of the camp sigh. Vision blurred by tears. She yells out what’s happening, but can’t hear the words.

But she knows the press of the barrel against her head, the touch of the captive bolt pistol, how they cull the herd. She was weak, defective, broken. Nomad family gathered around, watching her cry and scream, unable to hear herself. Weak and pathetic before them all.

Then a pair of hands grab her, save her, pull her away and into a hug. Her mother holds her tight, crying, screaming, then kissing the top of her daughter’s head. Whispering words she knows won’t reach her. Aidan is saved, she doesn’t know what’s said. What spared her life. But she’s allowed to live on.

Her mother and sister learn ASL with her; the only two who never shun her, protecting her too much if anything. The implication clear whether in kindness or anger, she’s weak now. Defected. But her father expects her to work harder, to prove his mercy wasn’t a mistake. That this child earned her right to live.

She earns hearing aids years later[ and cries when she first puts them in; the world is too loud, too painful. Aidan keeps them low and continues using ASL.

A homeless teenage girl in a town they ransack; long dark hair and heavy makeup. Calls herself Avarice, they call her Ava. She tries to sign to Aidan and the young nomad girl is in love that easy, desperate for someone who cares enough to meet her even halfway. Despite it all, she begs Ava to join The Herd. Because maybe hell is more bearable when you’re in love.

She’s dragged to the med tent one night, told she needs a checkup, no rhyme or reason. Knowing better than to fight her father when he’s barking orders. They sedate her, clan doctor holding her down and forcing her into unconsciousness. She awakes with a scar across her lower stomach. Sterilized. So, she’ll never pass along defective genes.

The next snapshot doesn’t feel much longer after, older but not by much, a year maybe. When The Herd is swarmed by an rival nomad clan, one they’ve fucked over one time too many. Aidan trying to drive one of the cars to get her sister and mother away from the ambush. When a rival vehicle slams into them, a screech of tires, the gnash of metal. Eira and Aidan safe, but their mother is pinned between a caved-in door and the center console, bleeding where shrapnel pierces deep into her legs.

Trapped until Aidan’s father and a group from the family find them, The three women pulled from a crushed vehicle, the mother the only one gravely injured. Aidan follows as she’s dragged to an emergency medical set up.

Legs too damaged, it'd require a double amputation, prosthetics or cyberware. Easily doable. Nowhere near beyond saving if they’d act in time, take the time. But they never do, never truly will. Aidan begs for her mother’s life, like her mother did for her. For her father to have mercy just one more time.

And the bolt pistol is put in her hands. She’s told to do it. To cull her mother, to be strong, to put the family above the individual. A test of her strength.

She refuses, screams, and points the gun at him. And he mocks her tears, mocks the way her hands shake. He rips the pistol from her hands, she fights and pulls with him. But he’s over a foot taller, stronger, leaves her black and blue; crying on the ground with his boot on her back as he takes the gun and kills her mother.

And once her mother’s body is burned to ash, she runs.

Years of traveling, towns across NUSA, some faces are kinder than others. Eira and Ava sent to track her down, to kill the traitor.

Eventually she finds herself in Night City, but not the one Johnny knows. Newer, slicker, brighter. But the corruption and apathy remain, chrome even more common place than it was before. Folks more metal than flesh, every ripper doc with back alley tech.

She meets a friend, Jackie, Johnny knows his name despite never hearing it. A big ‘tino fucker covered in gaudy gold chains who helps her settle in. Taken into his home. Merc work, scummy nothing jobs, merc janitors at best. Jackie pulls her into a tight hug, the nomad unsure of what to do as his arms wrap around her, face pressed into his chest.

Then there’s a sharp pain, nerves and neurons firing off as everything is suddenly real. No haze or glass between him and her memories. Face tucked in against fabric, a chest, but there’s no warmth. No heartbeat. Arms wrapped tight around a body that’s cold and limp, one hurting like it’s been ripped open. They feel like his own, it feels like it’s his body.

He can feel the movement of muscles, the beat of the body’s heart. How the face is twisted up with tears running wet and hot down the cheeks. It feels like him, but it's not. Smaller, thinner.

No more ‘chicas’, ‘jainas’, or the odd ‘mija’. No more smiles that outshine the sun. No more nagging her to look on the bright side. No more bear hugs or hands the size of her head ruffling through her hair. No more Jackie….

Thoughts not his own swim around his head, the voice feminine. What the hell is Arasaka playing at? Playing someone else’s memories, trying to make him sit in the backseat of someone else's life? An experiment, they going to try to twist him, fuck with his head?

“Mr. Welles has passed. Where shall I take his remains?” An AI voice asks, in some tech cab with a bleached digital butler staring at her.

He’s got to find a way out, there’s got to be a way? But how do you leave someone’s head?

The body, her body, moves without his permission. Able to feel it like it’s his own and he can see just who’s corpse she was clinging to. Jackie… The same guy who took her in, now dead in the back of a cab. There’s a pit in her stomach, a tightness in her chest; he can feel her pain…

He’s both separate and intrinsically connected, his thoughts and feelings distinct enough, but her own still overwhelming.

”W-what?” She says...what was her name Aidan, Brayden, Hayden, some shit... Frat boy name on a nomad brat.

She stumbles over her words, sounds like she barely knows how to talk, might be the blubbering. Fuck if he knows or cares. Her grief, while he can feel it around him, surrounding him from where he sits in her head, is her own. He’s got bigger worries, bigger fish to fry. Former nomad, now a merc, but that doesn’t meant she can’t be with Arasaka. Corps hire mercs, use nomads as scapegoats, all sorts of shit. She could be in on whatever the fuck this is.

He’s just got to figure out what exactly the fuck this is, what Arasaka’s plan is. A way to get intel from him? Prodding at memories by seeing if someone else’s sparks something?

“The Excelsior package provides for the disposal of passenger remains free of charge. I merely require a destination.”

“I…he-he’d want to be with his family.”

“Mr. Welles' closest blood relative is Guadalupe Alejandra Welles, proprietress of the El Coyote Cojo bar. I will make sure to deliver him safely. Mr. DeShawn awaits you in room number two-oh-four. ”

Her hands are stained with blood, her forearm has a gash down it. He can see the traces of Mantis Blades, one ripped out. Something happened, flashes of dangling off an Arasaka branded hotel, holding her friend up. Red everywhere, fighting Arasaka guards. Doesn’t mean she didn’t work with them, how else would they somehow plant him in her head, in her memories.

She squeezes her friend’s shoulders and presses her forehead to his, feeling the cold of his corpse.

“See ya in the major leagues, Jack…”

She gets out of the back of the cab, she’s dressed like a corpo, he realizes when her eyesight catches her body. White blouse, stained red with blood, black slacks. Rain is pouring down on her, as she walks through a dirty alley. She doesn’t seem to notice Johnny’s existence, his presence in her head. Everything he thinks, tries to scream without a mouth, doesn’t earn him a response.

Then again, if she is with Arasaka, might be told to ignore him. He’d be pulling his hair out if he had a body, if he existed beyond some former tarmac rat’s mind. She walks through a door into a filthy excuse for a motel, the No-Tell. There's chatter around them and he catches the rambling of a tv, something about Saburo Arasaka. But she doesn’t stay to linger, doesn’t let him fully hear it. Something about the old fucker’s life.

But she’s at the door of a hotel room before he can hear much, bloodied knuckles knocking against the door.

“It's V,” She says, knocking again when there’s no answer. V? Since when is she V? Where the fuck did she get V from?

The door opens and a guy comes out, giant fucker around a foot or so taller than her, so was her newly departed friend. Which begs the question, how tall is she?

God, he’s stuck in the skull of some munchkin merc, isn’t he?

Everyone, everything is… bigger. A hand on her shoulder, nearly the size of her head stops her from stepping forward. And he hates it, someone putting hands on him, controlling him so easily, he tries to force her hands to punch the ugly fucker. But it doesn’t happen, hands clenched at her side. How the hell does she fight anyone like this anyway, she’s half the height of everyone she meets.

“He waiting.”

V, Aidan; whatever dumb fuck name she has is allowed into the motel room. A man inside, puffing away on a cigar, watching the news. He can feel her worry swelling inside of her as she clears her throat, the man doesn’t look Arasaka. But the little runt of a merc has to be attached to them somehow. He’s not one to give Arasaka too much credit, be none if he had his way, but they’re not dumb enough to put his engram in any klepto punk’s head.

Arasaka uploaded his engram, scorching him with Soukiller, he remembers that. Mikoshi is where they store them, digital souls tucked away, where they got the tech to play with the human mind. If she made it there, they had to have trusted her.

“WNS… N54… Even the pirate networks… You blowin' up everywhere! And the Jackster? He out in the car?”

“He’s...dead.” Having to say it, having to hear it from her own lips. Stuck in the whiny mind of an Arasaka asslicker, wonderful.

“Condolences friend and the relic?”

The relic? Arasaka’s ultimate project, what they needed Soulkiller before. There’s always been a constant murmur about it, Arasaka looking to commodify the human soul. Must have finally rolled it out after they fried him.

“Here,” she explains by tapping her chipslot, is that how he’s here?

“Hmm, I was afraid of that…”

“What?!”

But the relic, they advertised it like imaginary friends, or some shit. If he was on that, she’d be able to see and hear him right? Unless Arasaka fucked up…

“Saburo Arasaka,” the man, Dex, paces, “Dead…?! You got any notion of the shit you pulled me into?! You offed the fuckin' emperor! His majesty! Anyone with so much as a pinky toe dipped in this mess is as good as dead!”

Saburo’s dead, old sack of shit finally kicked it… and Johnny’s in the killer’s head. Memories, her’s, creep up. Ones he didn’t get in the brief glitches of memories before. Saburo’s body, dead limp and collapsed on a hotel floor. Ripping the dogtags from his bruised neck. Means Johnny won’t get the satisfaction of offing the bastard himself.

“I didn’t kill Saburo! I- I-”

She stumbles and trips over every word; can she act like she didn’t fuck up any of this? Like she has no role in Jackie and Bug’s deaths… He’d gag on her feelings if he could, a blubbering child, those memories may be a mystery to him right now. But he buys it, if he couldn’t manage to kill Saburo, he doubts some miserable little half pint could, chick can barely get a sentence out. Which means he very well may still be tripping around in the neurons of some shitty nomad turned bootlicker.

"No shit?l Tell that to the ‘Saka ninjas they send after you!”

“We...we got to leave Night City.”

“You don’t say.”

“Call Parker, we close the deal, collect our eddies, and go off the radar.”

“A’ight, settle down, Gotta be tactical about this. Parker, eddies, then we leave the city limits behind. But first… Your face… got blood all over it. Bathroom's there. Go get yourself cleaned up.”

She nods and makes her, their, way to the bathroom. Dex is going to trick her, pull some shit, Johnny can see it a mile away. Chick’s outnumbered, outstrength, if they think she’s a risk and Dex made it clear he does, he’ll drop her. But she doesn’t see it, walking into the bathroom and settling at the sink. The mirror lights up, showing her face, giving him the first good look at her since those foggy memories of childhood.

He sees traces of that kid; gray eyes and her face is soft. Young, delicate, but with a heavy layer of blood coating iit.

Her blood and Jackie’s.

He can taste the bile in her throat, as if his own, can feel the burn of it and the churn of her gut as she pukes into the sink. It's not the first time he’s ended up with the taste of someone elses puke in his mouth, though it’s her mouth, he supposes. She pushes her bleached blonde hair off her face as she retches, streaking blood through it.

If she would have refused the job.

If she had gotten them up the ladder.

If she had been stronger.

If she had been stealthier.

If she had gotten them through the lobby quicker.

If she could have convinced Delamain to get him to a doc.

If she knew better first aid.

He tries to shut it out, the knots in her guts, the ache in her chest. Her thoughts spinning around her head and what feels like his. Surrounded by the feelings of another, he can’t fucking live like this, there’s got to be a way out.

She washes the blood from her hands and face; Jackie wanted this for her, one of the only people who ever wanted anything good for her. If only for him, she owes it to him to finish this job.

Can she fucking hear him? He tries to mentally scream at her, he’s going to find a way out of this, if he has to claw his way out of her damn head! Slamming him in the head of some grieving merc, that Saburo’s idea of a sick final joke? Making him feel someone else’s pain meant to make him talk? Meant to give everything away? If hell exists, Saburo better be burning or Johnny will set the son of a bitch on fire himself.

Nothing works, nothing seems to draw her attention. Johnny thinking to a void as she leaves the bathroom.

She’s punched clean in the head as soon as she steps out the door, to the surprise of no one but her, the rattling of her skull and shock of pain hitting Johnny like it’s his own head. The merc is knocked to the floor and a boot kicks into her gut for good measure. Her head stomped on, beaten to the ground like all five feet of her is a truly dangerous threat.

“Can’t risk it, V,” Dex levels a pistol with her temple as she writhes on the ground, “‘Member our first convo?”

“I’ll fucking kill you!”

“Seems I've chosen the quiet life, after all. No blaze o' glory for me.”

And Dex pulls the trigger, a bang in the dirty motel room as he fires a shot into the merc’s head. Agony and terror, gagging on blood, darkness, cold, and fear… then nothing.

And Johnny dies, not for the first time.

Death relived, but through the eyes of another. The bullet hits. Soulkiller scorches. And the world around the two rewrites at the moment of their second deaths. Reconstructs and digitizes. A liminal space within the net. Structures like the squared mazes of balconies and stairs within Arasaka Tower of 2023.

But everything made up of digital matter, pixels of color collected loosely to form the shapes against a black backdrop. Nearly everything a shade of blue, but hints of red bleeding through.

Nothing moves or feels like reality, floatier, less certain. And it all moves, pixels twitching, it all shifts, all seems… alive.

That where V finds herself, dying again but through Johnny, an echo of the pain from his torture still seeming to stick to her. But when she looks down, it’s her, but not. Like the world around her she knows seems to be constructed of these pixels, data, a bright red hue to her But it all forms to be her. Her arms, her painted nails, her freckles, her scars. They move with her permission, no one else’s.

But what is happening?

The biochip, maybe? But it’s meant to show someone like an imaginary friend, not put you in their lives, then send you to the net. At least she thinks this is the net, remembering descriptions Bug had given her. And by all intents and purposes, she should be dead.

Data around her shakes, reverberates, brightens and stretches across the hall around her. There’s a thrum to it all, that she can hear, no physical limitation in the net… Then it stops only to reveal something new. A flash of bright red, standing out in a sea of blue data. It forms the shape of a person, composed of red data and negative space, their back to her as they lean forward on the banister.

V signs from instinct, but finds no translator, forcing her to speak, “Hey!”

She rushes towards the figure, they don’t answer her call, maybe they know what’s happening? But as she gets close, they push off the banister and turn. Their figure blurs as they move away from her, but she sees a closer glimpse.

It’s a man, not as tall as Jackie, but still over a foot taller than her. Shoulder length dark hair and what looks to be the outline of sunglasses on his digital form. Even in the strange form, she recognizes him. The man’s who’s death she just lived, moment after her own. Johnny Silverhand. He blips away as he turns.

The flash of red, his form, now further away, on the stairs of the lobby.

“Hey, sir!” she calls out again, trying to sound vaguely polite as she rushes towards the stairs, he has to know what’s going on. He stands from the stairs and blips away just as she reaches them.

She runs up that first set of steps seeing his form sitting on the second, “Johnny!”

And he’s gone as soon as she reaches him, like they’re playing some sort of game, does he not hear her? She knows damn well he’s not deaf, if she can hear in this place, he should be able to. She reaches the top of the stairs, reaching another balcony railing, him around the corner on the adjacent side of the square floor. His back is to the banister, hands on it. Paying her no mind.

“Robert!” She yells his full first name, remembering seeing it scrawled in chicken scratch across an enlistment form. But she turns the corner and he’s gone.

But when she turns her head she sees his back again, down a narrow passageway made of more negative space than blue data. She walks across the negative space, hands skimming the data that forms it’s walls, each step taking her closer to him. She heard three different names, unsure of which may earn her an answer.

“Robbie! Robert!”

Neither name spurs a reaction, he doesn’t turn, doesn’t speak. Only stands at the end of hall, shifting in pace, as she continues her way to him. And she stops when she’s within arm’s reach, he hasn’t blipped away, hasn’t ran off. Able to see fully now, the red data particles that form a bullet proof vest, the cyberware left arm. V reaches out and taps a finger against his shoulder.

“Johnny?”

He turns to face her and she doesn’t know if she should feel relieved, or terrified.

“And you? Who are you?”

Her answer catches in her throat, mouth half open when it hits. White hot blinding pain ripping through every nerve, head and world shattering as she screams. Like she’s been torn open, every part of her stripped raw and set on fire. Everything vanishes from her sight as she cries out.

V’s contact UI blips, blurry as data fills it, system reboot. Her senses return to her, slowly and steadily as systems reload. The arm her blade was ripped from burns, open nerves exposed to the air. Her head feels shattered, aching as if it’s been broken apart. There’s a stench of trash and filth around her. There’s a weight on top of her, heavy, firm, crushing down onto her lungs. The warmth and stick mess of blood clings to everything. Caked across her skull, down her neck, her arm.

The diagnostics flicker away, but her vision still struggles. A cyan fuzz clings around and distorts it all. Her depth of field is cut off, half her vision seemingly gone. Not aided by the fact that it’s dark, looking around she can see trash thrown atop her. a cold sheet of metal lays on top of her. Metal and plastic of discarded goods lay beneath and around her, jabbing uncomfortably into her flesh.

A landfill, if she were to wager a guess, Dex tossed her out like trash. How is she not dead? How hasn’t she bled out?

She doesn’t know the answer, but she knows if she doesn’t do something, she’ll die anyway. Favoring her left arm, the right still damaged, she pushes up on the sheet of metal. Muscles scream in protest, pain shooting through them as she forces herself to put her weight into it. And she rolls it off of her and she can breathe a little easier, move a little better. A bit more light allowed on her. But she still can’t see very well, like her right eye is closed.

Tempting fate, she presses her hand to it, sees nothing, when she closes her left. The world goes black. She touches the lid, feeling the blood that mats her eyelashes, she pries her eyelid open with her fingers. Nothing. Down a blade and an eye, she needs to move. Vik can fix those, he can fix this.

She shoves a TV off of her legs, twists up s to see the sky. Silver and orange light color the world, moonlight and fire, plumes of dark smoke coming from somewhere she’s in some sort of pit or ravine within the landfill, a wall of dirt and trash around her. An upward climb to save herself.

V forces her body to move even as it aches and screams in pain, forces her shredded arm to grip even as she can see the tendons twitching through the mangled remains of it. She forces blood soaked fingernails to dig into dirt and grip abandoned pizza boxes for traction, slips her aching feet in between wires and appliances for foot holds.

“Fuck!” she screams out loud, but can’t hear it, as she loses her traction and starts to slip. She extends her left blade, sinking it into the wall of muck and trash. Her right arm stings, throbs, begs to release a tool it no longer has.

She uses her blade to help pulls herself, dragging herself up and up with every sink of it into the muck. V’s thankful she’s lost her hearing aids in the process, hell maybe Dex stole them back to recoup some losses, but it means she can’t hear her own curses, her own groans of pain, her own rattling breaths with bruised lungs

And she reaches the surface. Rusted remains of god knows what surrounds her and a trashcan fire burns not far away, but she’s out of the pit. She pulls her feet under her and she tries to stand, body shaking, swaying, trembling with blood loss and pain.

But for a moment, she rises.

She stands, looking out across the landfill of trash, cyan fuzz still glitching around her, and for a moment...maybe she’s okay. Maybe she can walk out of this, find Vik, maybe she can be okay.

V collapses with the next step, body all at once going out from under her, mocking her hope. Mocking her moment of stupid fucking hope as her back meets the mud. It mingles with blood, collides with her gore, and sticks to her open wounds. She lays there in muck, just breathing, her lungs ache with the strength needed just to do that. Each one feels fainter than the last. Her eyes start to close, feel too heavy, her right one might very well already be shut… she wouldn’t know. A mangled mess of who she once was, now laying in filth, surrounded by trash.

Maybe she’ll not move again… maybe this is a fitting end. A childhood of scavenging landfills, thrown in a dumpster her first night in the city, and dying in a landfill; maybe the world has been trying to tell her something all along. She’d never have to face Mama Welles, Misty, or Vik; never have to tell them she failed Jackie. Maybe she’ll just let all go, never even have time to grieve, maybe it’s best to just let it all go…

“Wake the fuck up, Samurai. We got a city to burn.”

A rasp of a voice rings out and she gasps, opening her eyes. A man kneeled over her, one she knows well, but he’s no longer digitized and she’s not looking through his eyes. Silver fingers pull his aviators off of his face, dark brown eyes scrutinizing her. His form isn’t solid, glitches like old vhs footage.

But...

She heard him.

#cyberpunk 2077 #silverv #johnny silverhand #cp2077 #fem v #aidan v becker #aidan becker

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abruisedmuse · 4 years

Text

Nesta groaned lacing her fingers together, stretching upwards with a restful sigh. Turning and twisting in her midnight blue comforter. Her face and mess of dark auburn tresses buried into her plush pillow. Reaching out for her husband's body. Though it wouldn’t surprise her if it was one of their toddlers instead. Still, they would receive the same touch. An arm curling around the middle and a swift peck on the check. The only difference would be how she said good morning. To their toddlers, it would be motherly full of warmth and affection. She’d run her fingers through their thick dark locks, cupping their little rosy cheeks. Until Cassian grabbed them, tickling the two and chasing them out of the bedroom. To Cassian, it would be a good morning prick which would entice him to flip her on her back. Murmuring some damned nonsense of how she loved his prick and he would show her. Or it would be her peppering kisses from his tousled hair down to the nape of his neck. He’d turn to her in a sleepy daze capturing her lips in a morning greeting.

This morning when she reached out there was nothing. No one. Not even the warmth of a body. Just a cold spot of silken sheets. She jumped up startled blue-grey eyes scanning the room for any of them. The only one in the room was her.

“Cassian?” Nesta knew it was ridiculous to call his name in a still room. If he was in the master bath she’d hear him. Loudly too. Always singing off-key or just generally making noise. No matter the time of day he seemed to hold a habit of slamming doors and cabinets, “Aidan? Audrey?” she called for their twins on the off chance they were once again hiding in the walk-in closet or under the bed. No giggles, singing, or cabinet slamming. Only silence.

Pulling the covers off, her bare feet touching the cool cherrywood flooring. Resting a hand over her three-month swollen belly as she walked towards the small black chaise next to the window. People thought they were crazy for having another while the twins were only four. They couldn’t help it and they only needed justification for themselves. Cassian and Nesta always wanted a big family. For Cassian growing up, it was only him and his mother. Things were always lonely and tight. For Nesta, it was troubling. Her mother left them with her father never bothering to contact them again. Her father did nothing but drink his days. She believed if she did nothing that he would eventually get his act together. He didn’t. He never did. Eventually, his sister took in the three girls. Elain and Feyre they loved and adored. Nesta was always pushed aside. Too much like her mother they would say. It took years later for some Illyrian idiot with a man bun crashing into her while leaving a creative writing class to melt the ice around her heart. But he did and with him, she wanted that chance. To fill her house with the laughter and love she never had. Things weren’t always easy for them, but their love and devotion to each other ran deep. Now with her successful career as a writer and his as a gym trainer with his equally successful lines of workout supplements, they had the means for that family and more.

Nesta pulled the sheer curtains apart looking down for any sight of her husband running with the kids. One twin up on his shoulders while Cassian chased the other. Possibly with him pinned to the ground and the two climbing on top of him. It didn’t matter, it was only eight in the morning. If Cassian had it his way. He would drag his wife and the kids outside the second the sun rose. They weren’t outside either. There was only one other place they could be. Nesta grabbed her charcoal robe, slipping into the sleeves and tying it loosely over her striped nightgown. She picked up a hair tie next to the cell, tying her hair in a bun while heading to the door. As she turned the knob, Nesta heard whispers through the doors and realized she should’ve checked the house first. Twisting the doorknob in her hand, silently she pulled it open.

“Daddy. What is book brinding?”

She heard Audrey ask, her shoulder-length hair still mused from sleep, thick and dark like her fathers. They all had their backs to her sitting at the dining table. Audrey on the left, Cassian in the center, and finally quiet little Aidan on the right. Nesta heard Cassian laugh at the innocent question. Folding her arms across her chest, she leaned against the door frame listening to the conversation.

“Bookbinding sweetheart. See it keeps the book together like this.”

“Oooh.”

“Will mommy like it?”

“Course she will, buddy. You and your sister made it.”

“You made it too!” the twins shouted in unison. Cassian shushed them both, “Oh right,” they’re voices lowered, “You made it too,” they repeated.

“Not really. I helped with the writing and tied it. The idea, the drawings, and the pictures you chose. That’s you guys. Daddy has something else planned. She’ll like it.”

“What is it?" Audrey asked. A childlike curiosity in her voice.

"Is it your prick?" Aidan questioned. Nesta stifled a laugh watching her husband's back straighten as he froze in his movements, "You always say she likes that."

"How many conversations do you kids listen to?"

"Oh. Lots," they spoke together.

"Yeah, let's not do that. Some conversations are for mommy and daddy only."

"But what is a prick? And why does mommy like yours so much?"

It was Audrey this time who asked. Nesta didn't have to see his face to know his tanned skin was draining and turning ghost white. By her guess, it was happening quickly. Cassian was good at many things, but awkward talks with almost five-year-olds were not one of those things. Pushing off the frame, she decided to make her presence known to the three most important people in her life.

"What are we doing?" she asked, her brows arched walking towards the dining table.

All three turned around at the same time. Looking like deers in headlights. The twins gasped, throwing their small hands over a squared object on the onyx table. Both of them fussing over who was louder and caused her to wake. Saying things like mommy needs sleep for the baby. The baby won't grow if you wake her up. Cassian hushed them both, pushing the chair out to go and greet his beloved. The twins followed suit.

Although Aidan and Audrey were twins. Their looks weren't similar except for their olive-toned skin. It seemed to be a mix of Cassian and Nesta. Aidan was a spitting image of his mother. Hair a deep golden hue like her and his eyes a marbled blend of grey and blue. Like a storm on the sea. His small child features were already strong like hers, both mother and son having sharp noses. He had his father's courageous and outspoken personality, but Nesta's love of reading. Aidan held an imagination that outweighed even his sisters of magic, fairytales, and dragons. He was still dressed in his pj's. A cheesy little blue and red set that read Mommy's little super hero on the front.

Audrey, on the other hand, looked at that of her father. Hair black as night and down to her shoulders. She liked it that way with bangs. It was like Cassian and auntie Amren. Her eyes were a bright amber with flecks of green throughout. Like sunbeams breaking through rich green leaves in a forest. Lips pouty and plush like him. She too loved reading, not as much as Aidan though. Audrey had a knack for adventure. Wanting to be the princess and yet wield a blade. She had her father's free spirit and her mother's stubbornness. Audrey stood there in her white and pink polka-dotted nightgown. A heart in the center with, Mommy's sweetheart embroidered. Standing close to Cassian. A daddy's girl through and through.

Cassian who stood there in the same wardrobe as the kids. A black shirt with black and red plaid bottoms. Grinning ear to ear at her, running his hair through his thick, wavy locks. He glanced at the kids to his sides, "Why don't you get the present?" they both nodded giggling. He stepped to Nesta, hand resting on her belly, kissing her sweetly, "Happy Mothers Day Nes."

"Thank you," giving him a chaste kiss, "What are you up to? Besides gifting your prick to me."

"Only gifting if it if you want it, sweetheart. I was thinking Amren and Valerian could watch the kids. Which I already asked. They said yes. We can go for brunch, get you one of those prenatal massages you like so much.."

She hummed, curling her arms around his waist. Resting her head against his chest. Cassian ran his fingers down her spine, "What if I want it?" She crooned.

"Insatiable woman," he teased, smirking at her.

"Let's call it a pregnancy craving."

He chuckled kissing the top of her head," Whatever you say. The kids have been working on this for a week by the way."

Aidan and Audrey returned shouting to Nesta to shut her eyes. She did as requested. Cassian guided her to the couch. The twins sat next to her and Cassian sat on the edge. Nesta felt a weight in her lap.

"Happy Mothers day!" they shouted in unison. Nesta flicked her eyes open to look at the item. She gasped. Her heart full looking at her gift. A book. They made her a book. Nesta Archeron wasn't someone who cried. So far in her life, she cried three times. When Cassian proposed, when they married, and when the twins were born. Now she supposed it was time for another. She could feel her eyes brimming with wetness. Overcome with emotion.

The cover was a drawing of what she guessed was Aidan and Audrey. It was a titled Why we Love Mommy. Nesta assumed the title was Cassian. It was too forward for a child. The sides of the book were laced together in a red ribbon. She opened the first page. It was a drawing of her and Cassian while she was pregnant. If the drawing didn’t give it away the sentence stating it would have. Some pages had photos of the four of them or Just Nesta and the kids. Most page was filled with inaccurate drawings and little stick figures. She loved it anyway. The bodies of themselves and then the twins when they showed in the book were far from proportionate. On one page Nesta's legs were as long as the drawn Cassian next to her. Sometimes the twins were taller than their parents. Her favorites were the ones of Cassian with circles as muscles playing his guitar while Nesta sat on the floor. Drawn with a long-armed Aidan and a book bigger than her head. The pages had simple sentences like: We love mommy for giving us a home in her tummy, We love when daddy plays music and Mommy reads to us, We love mommy’s pancakes. She didn't even realize tears were falling when she read the last page. There was a heart messily drawn and at the bottom, it read, We love mommy cause she’s pretty and strong, and she loves daddy and us bigger than space and dragons. It was a sentence only two four-year-olds could muster. It touched her in a way she couldn’t fathom. Her touchy pregnancy hormones had gotten the best of her. By now her tears were streaming down her face. Not from sadness, but affection.

"Nes?" he questioned handing her a tissue. She took it, nodding her thanks, dabbing at her tears.

"Do you like it, mommy?" The twins asked. She wrapped her arms around her babies. Planting a loving kiss on their heads. They hugged back as tightly as their little arms could.

"Yes. I love it very much. It's my favorite book," she shared a look with Cassian, her lips trembling but her smile wide. He reached out to squeeze her hand.

*******************************************************************************

a/n: This is actually part of series called: Mother’s Day in Velaris. Which atm has two parts. Nessian and Elriel (Which I’ll repost tonight). I still need to do Feysand and it will be complete.

Over the next week or so I am transferring my fics to tumblr. I kinda prefer the tumblr platform and I am on here more than ao3. So some of the fics I will be posting, yes you may have seen before, like this one.

Taglist: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @hizqueen4life @clockworkgraystairs @b00kworm @negativenesta @sjm-things @whataboutmyfries @justgiu12 @illyrian-bookworm @thesirenwashere @ireallyshouldsleeprn @vanessa172003 @thewickedkings @sleeping-and-books @thefolkofthefic @yafandomsdotnet @aknymph @alittledribbledrabble @iminsanenotobsessed @figuredihadanodustollensofalife @Df3ndyr @forbiddencorvidae

want to be on my taglist? let me know!

#nessian #nessian fic #nesta archeron #Cassian #Cassian x Nesta #nessian babies #pregnancy #kids say weird things #Daddy Cassian #insert fire emoji #sjm fandom #Acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #usernite #becca writes #sweetlyvillainous

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withcolebrock · 4 years

Text

Night Changes-Good Enough for my Baby

Summary: Serenity brings home a boy and Colby gets mad

Night Changes Masterlist

Requested: Yes!!!

Warnings: swearing??

Word Count: 2,057

Author’s Note: Hiii this idea was so cute I loved it!! and we love protective colbyyyy especially dad!colby. anyway I got a little carried away, but I hope you guys enjoy it! this is my Gif!!!

Y/N leaned down and took another piece of clothing from the dryer and began folding it as Serenity walked in. “Mom?” she asked, her voice higher pitched than normal. Y/N hummed as she glanced towards her daughter. “Can I invite someone over tomorrow?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Who is it?” Y/N asked while taking another shirt, a much smaller one this time. Serenity stayed quiet for a few seconds as her cheeks began to flush. “Serenity, they can come over, I just need to know who,” her tone was getting more annoyed.

“Nick,” her voice was barely above a whisper. Y/N head dramatically turns towards her daughter with her eyebrows furrowed harshly. Y/N started shaking her head slowly as she stared at her daughter trying to find some sort of words to say.

“Nick? Uh have I met him?” she asked subtly, her heart was racing fast as she shut the dryer. Serenity shook her head while she bit her lip nervously. “Is he a friend? Boyfriend?” she cringed as the words left her lips, but tried to hide it from Serenity.

“He’s my uh-something, I don’t know what to call him yet,” she clenched her jaw several times as she leaned against the laundry room door. Y/N mouth fell open as she squinted her eyes. She had several more questions to ask her daughter about her something, but she didn’t have the energy to do so. She nodded her head slowly while she forced a smile.

“I’m fine with him coming over, but you have to ask your dad,” Y/N shrugged as she took two laundry baskets and began carrying them. Serenity huffed as she took the basket with her clothes in it.

“What?! Why do we have to tell Dad?” she whined as they both left the laundry room. Y/N chuckled lightly, remembering a similar conversation she had with her own mother. “Dad will get all weird about it, Mom please don’t tell him,” Y/N smiled michiviously as she walked up the stairs towards the living room. Serenity quickly follows. “I’m begging you, Mom, please,”

Y/N looked towards her daughter raising her eyebrows. She let out a soft chuckle as she began walking up the stairs. “Okay, I won’t,” her tone filled with sarcasm. Serenity took a sigh of relief as she took her phone from her pocket. Her face lit up as she saw a text from Nick saying that his parents were okay if they could hang out. Y/N walked towards the couch placing Aidan’s laundry basket on top of it. Serenity ran towards her room down the hall.

Colby placed a dry plate into the cabinet as he said, “Hey Baby.” Colby walked towards her. Y/N forced a smile as she faced him, looking away from him. He furrowed his eyebrows as he rested his hand onto her hip, “You okay?” Y/N nodded while she shifted her gaze slowly towards Colby’s eyes.

“We’ll talk later, Bub,” she raised her hand up and ran her thumb along his cheek. She reached down and took a hold of the basket and glanced towards him as she began to walk away. Colby’s eyes scanned her body as he slowly sat down onto the couch.

~~~

She took in a long breath while she entered her room. She sat down at the edge of her bed while she began to slowly rub her eyes. “Hey Baby,” he whispered as he pushed open the door. Y/N pulled her hands from her eyes as she looked towards Colby blinking several times. He took quick steps towards her as he sat down beside her, she looked towards him with sleepy eyes.

“Long day?” he asked quietly, she nodded as she leaned her body towards him. He quickly wrapped his arms around her as he slowly pushed his body against hers. She falls down onto her back giggling. He rested his head into the crook of his neck as he took in a long breath. “You were supposed to tell me something,” he whispered, running his hand along her side slowly.

“I can’t say it,” she whispered back as she ran her fingers through his hair. “It’s too scary,” Colby chuckled lightly creating vibrations against her neck.

“Come on Baby, I wanna know,” he whined.

She took in a long breath, “Ren, is bringing a boy over tomorrow,” she said quietly. Colby immediately sat up from his lying position and scowled towards her.

“What do you mean, a boy?” he questioned, his tone filled with anger already. Her mouth opened and closed several times, he shook his head while he stared towards Y/N.

“His name is Nick,” she said calmly as she stared into Colby’s eyes. He shut his eyes harshly as he huffed falling down onto his back.

“Nick? Ew, that’s such a fuck boy name,” he huffed again while he covered his face with his hands.

“I know right! Of all the names it had to be that-and I talked to Aidan and he overheard her call him hot!” she explained and Colby made a gagging noise. He cringed as he shook his head several times. “I know! Like our daughter calling someone-”

“Don’t say it!” he interrupted as he pointed towards her, she frowned while she fell onto her back alongside Colby. “You know what, I’m shutting this down. This guy isn’t allowed in my house,” she tilted her head to face him while her eyes widened.

“We have to at least meet the kid,” she reasoned, Colby shook his head again.

“She is barely fifteen years old, she shouldn’t be bringing boys home. Especially boys named Nick,” He sat up leaning against his elbows while he glared at his wife. She followed him leaning back on her elbows. She stared at him expectantly while he took a long shaky breath.

“Love, please don’t bring up that we started dating at fifteen. It doesn’t make me feel better because I know what we did when we were fifteen,” he explained while he fell onto his back again, covering his face in his hands. “Oh god,” he groaned as he started rubbing his eyes excessively.

“We have to at least meet him for Serenity’s sake,” Y/N explained again, resting her hand onto Colby’s chest. She ran her fingers across his tattoo near his heart.

“That doesn’t mean I have to like the kid,” Colby uttered as he removed his hands from his face as he shifted his attention towards Y/N. He rested his hand onto her cheek, he leaned towards her pressing his lips against hers briefly.

~~~

Aidan was sitting on the couch with the same book as yesterday while also watching TV. Leo was in the backyard passing the lacrosse ball with Colby. Colby was trying his best but he was not that good. Serenity was in her room getting ready for Nick to come over. Y/N was sitting beside Aidan reading her own book, keeping her mind off the fact that a teenage boy was coming over.

Serenity walked down the hallway while texting on her phone. She glanced towards her mom and Aidan before sitting down onto the kitchen stool. “Nick is going to be here in like five minutes,” she said while resting her phone into her hoodie pocket. A hoodie Y/N had never seen before, she assumed it had to be Nick’s. She looked towards Serenity and nodded before looking back towards her book. “And can you and Dad be cool please,”

“We’re always cool, Honey,” Y/N said sarcastically, while she bookmarked her page. Serenity rolled her eyes dramatically as she clicked open her phone again. Y/N stood up from the couch, poking Aidan on the head as she walked towards the back door. “Colby, Nick is almost here,” she raised her eyebrows while she beamed. Colby sighed as he threw the ball to Leo and dropped the stick.

“Dad where are you going?!” Leo whined as he caught the ball. Colby’s attention switched to boy and back to Y/N.

“I’ll be back, Bud, in like ten minutes. Practice shooting,” Colby offered as he ran towards the door. Leo rolled his eyes when Colby wasn’t looking. He turned around and started shooting into the lacrosse goal behind him. Y/N slid the door open more letting Colby walk in.

“Are you ready?” Y/N whispered as Colby shut the sliding door behind him. He leaned against it and shook his head, “You’ll be nice, right?” Y/N asked while she rested her hand onto his arm. He shrugged while he looked her body up and down. She leaned towards him and pressed her lips to his cheek briefly, “Be nice,” she whispered as she pulled away.

The doorbell rings twice forcing Serenity to jump from her seat and run towards the door excitedly. She stopped short of the door, adjusting her hair before she swung it open. She smiled and welcomed him inside. Colby’s eyes darted towards the door revealing a tall brunette boy. Nick smiled widely as he looked towards Serenity and whispered something Colby nor Y/N could hear. “Be nice,” Y/N whispered again, wrapping her arm around Colby’s. She dragged him towards the door.

“Hi, Nick, it’s so nice to meet you,” Y/N smiled widely as she pulled away from Colby to hug Nick. Nick smiled politely while he hugged her back.

“Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Brock,” he spoke as he pulled away, glancing towards Serenity. She nodded, smiling softly.

“Nice to meet you,” Colby reached out his hand with the most rings towards the boy. Nick’s eyes widened as he looked down to the hand, hesitantly. shaking it.

“Nice to meet you too, Sir,” his voice broke as he spoke.

“Okay, that was awkward,” Serenity sighed while she reached for Nick’s arm, dragging him towards her. “We are going to my room,” she forced a smile, walking towards her room with Nick.

“Keep the door open,” Colby yelled, crossing his arms over his chest. Serenity waved him off continuing down the hallway. As soon as they were out of earshot Colby whispered to Y/N, “Did you see him? He looks like Jake when he was in high school. A little prick like he was,”

“He was nice, Babe,” Y/N responded while she walked towards the couch.

“He reminds me too much of Jake before he met Tara, I don’t like it,” Colby pouted. He followed Y/N towards the couch. “Did you see how he was dressed? He’s a prick,”

“Colby, he said like ten words, give him a break,” she commented pulling the book open. Aidan side-glanced his parents before he stood up and headed towards his room. “Keep an eye on them, Aidan!” she called out to him, he nodded his head while he walked down the hall.

“See you’re worried too!” Colby whispered yelled.

“Of course I’m worried, it’s my teenage daughter with a teenage boy! At least, I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt,” she shot back.

“I was a teenage boy once, I know how they think! He is not even close to being good enough for my baby girl!” he explained while he crossed his arms over his chest dramatically while sitting down on the couch. She slowly rested her hand on his shoulder watching him shift his gaze towards her.

“Of course he’s not good enough for her, but that’s because she’s our daughter. No boy will ever be good enough for her, but we have to be nice, Love,” he leaned his head back against the couch as he shut his eyes. He took in a long slow breath before shifting his gaze towards her.

“Why are you so perfect?” he whispered as he gazed into her eyes. She shrugged her shoulders as she leaned forward, he quickly followed pressing his lips against hers.

The sliding glass door to the backyard is pulled open, “Dad, come on!” Leo yelled, pulling Y/N and Colby apart. They both burst into laughter.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” Colby grunted as he pulled himself up from the couch, smiling towards Y/N, “Damn kids,” he joked while he walked out of the room.

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legolaslovely · 4 years

Text

Darling

A/N: I am beside myself in Kili love this Kili Ktuesday. Yes. We made it a thing. I... this is so mushy I have NOTHING to say for myself. Give him to me, let me love him thankyouverymuch. This was so inspired by this gif of Aidan saying “hi darlin’” in BTS videos of Being Human UK because LOOK AT HIM GOODNESS GRACIOUS ME.

Pairing: Kili x Human!Reader

Word Count: 1,692

Warnings: Men being annoying and harassing their waitress AKA reader, Kili to the rescue, Kili is very cute, Fili is very grumpy but I like to think Kili dragged him away from cleaning his precious daggers or something, disgustang fluff.

Summary: Kili frequents the tavern for one reason.

Also this gif because it’s my f a v o r i t e

Kili’s nose scrunched angrily when he opened the heavy wooden door to the pub. Its hinges creaked loudly, as if warning him to turn around and leave immediately. But Kili stubbornly stepped through the threshold, pulling his growling brother along, and found two seats in the corner that were too tall.

He frequented this tavern for one reason. He didn’t enjoy the sloppy food that made his stomach lurch until morning. The band in the corner was too loud and brash, even for him. The all-human company didn’t exactly welcome him. However, he quickly laid eyes on his version of an oasis and the stench, noise, and dirty looks vanished from his mind and were replaced with soft skin, warm smiles and saucy comebacks. It was this woman- this human woman, who kept him visiting.

(Y/N) was taking an order from a customer when Kili crept to stand behind her. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, grinning around her knuckles when she jumped away in fright and her free hand flew to the thin tunic over her chest. She exhaled, relieved to see her favorite customer instead of a drunken one, and Kili let her air wash over him like fresh water from a stream.

“Hi, darling.”

She gave a small laugh. “Hello Prince Kili.”

Her hand dropped from his lips but he kept hold of it. “I am not your prince, you don’t have to call me that.”

She hummed. “But I do have to take your order. What would you like?”

“I would like,” he paused, making a show as he pretended to think. His thumb waved over the back of her hand. “I would like for you to sit with me for the rest of the night.”

He was gifted a brilliant smile for his efforts. “I can’t do that.”

“Just for a moment then.”

“I can’t do that either,” she said.

Kili thought he heard disappointment hiding in the lilt of her voice and his chest bloomed with pride. She noticed and smiled.

“You see how busy I am tonight,” she said. “Go sit, I’ll bring you and your brother an ale.”

As she finished the word, a towering, drunken human ambled past her, almost knocking her forward as he grabbed at her skirts. She whirled, slapping the mans’ hand with a growl, but Kili put himself between her and the man before she could do anything more. The instigator cackled as he stumbled away and Kili’s tender hands turned to cold fists, even as the one remained wrapped around (Y/N)’s. She pushed lightly at his chest.

“Go sit. I can handle myself.”

“I know you can. But you shouldn’t have to.”

She nudged him again. “Kili. Go sit. I’ll be right over.” She bent to meet his eyes and waited for him to return her smile. He hesitantly withdrew his puffed out chest and warm hand and walked back to his brother at the corner table.

(Y/N) effortlessly weaved through customers, juggling empty plates, full glasses and unwanted advances the whole way. She seemed to turn to liquid, squeezing through, delivering and taking orders without missing a step before returning to the bar for Kili’s drinks. Kili never lost sight of her billowing skirts and soft hair, especially as she passed the drunkard once more. He didn’t miss the fat, oily man send her a yellow smile and a pinch. In a blink, Kili’s chair was pushed back, but (Y/N) waved him away before he could take another step. He read her lips and imagined her low voice telling the man he’d be kicked out forcefully if he didn’t take his leave instantly. Then she flipped her braid over she shoulder, smiled at Kili, and floated over to his table.

“Here you are,” she said, letting the mugs hit the table without a single drop spilled.

"Thank you, darling.”

She leaned a hand on the back of his chair, sticking out her hip like she was begging him to take it. “I’ve never heard a dwarf use that word.”

“Because it’s a human term,” Kili’s brother grumbled from behind his mug. (Y/N) snorted, knowing that if Kili hated this tavern, Fili despised it.

“You don’t like the name?” Kili asked.

“I’d rather you call me something in your language.”

Kili leaned to her, inviting her to do the same in the loud room. His hair fell down his back as he looked up at her with a challenge. “Like what?”

“Like... amrâlimê.”

He blinked wildly and fell back in his chair as if her words had struck him. “Wh-um, do you know what that means?”

“No. I’ve just heard it around.”

They heard her name being called from the bar. She flitted around his chair and knelt on the floor, out of view of her customers and boss. She set a hand on his knee and even in the dark corner, he could see her eyes shining with something he couldn’t quite place. Mischief? No. Not (Y/N).

“Does it mean something bad?” she asked.

“N-no.” He wriggled against her hand, shying from its weight and heat on his leg. “It’s actually quite fitting for you.”

Again someone hollered her name.

“If I come to learn it’s an insult and you didn’t tell me, I will never forgive you, Prince Kili.” She flashed him a smile and stood, heading for the bar.

“Wait,” Kili said. He stopped her, taking her in his arms and holding her so close her chin touched her chest when she looked down into his eyes. “Dance with me.”

“I can’t! Look at all these people waiting for me- I can’t.”

“You can. Please. Dance with me, amrâlimê.” He loosened his grip, giving her the choice though he knew more than half of her had already given in to him.

She sighed and lifted her skirts with one hand, leaving the other on his strong shoulder. “You’re going to get me in trouble.”

“No more than you’re already in, calling me ‘Prince.”

He felt her hum vibrate under his hands. The human music he’d always thought tactless and trivial gave the perfect beat for him to lead her around the small, cleared dance floor of the dirty tavern. The humans bellowed slurs and insults to him as he hopped through them, but all he could hear was the soaring giggles of his dance partner. He attempted to twirl her under his arm, but her forgotten height got caught so he turned instead, sending her into a fit of warm laughter. “We’ll turn together!” she said, and they did before falling back into the set steps of the dwarvish dance. He led her well until they were both puffing for air with exhausted legs and arms.

“Wonderful! Kili, you’re wonderful,” she said, lowering her voice as if they were the only two in the room.

“You are the one who’s-”

“(Y/N)!” the bartender shouted with a frightening threat. “Get back to your duties this instant!”

She didn’t take her eyes off Kili. “In a moment,” she said, barely loud enough for anyone to hear, never mind her boss across the room. She took Kili’s hand. “Come with me.” She dashed out of the pub, almost ripping the door off its hinges with her speed.

“(Y/N)! Slow down! Where are we going, amrâlimê?” Kili’s robes flew around him as he had trouble keeping up with her long strides. “What is it?” he asked, pulling on her hand to stop her once they were outside.

She coiled into him, staring as she caught her breath. Her cheeks were pink- once with the effort of her work, then from the exertion of their dancing, and now with the chill of the night air. Or was it from something more? Kili squeezed her hand. “What is it?” he asked.

“I...” She looked down to their joined hands and laughed. “M-Men lananubukhs menu, amrâlimê.”

He drew away, putting cold, empty space between them. “Don’t say that. You don’t know what it means.”

“I do know. I know exactly what it means and I’ve wanted to hear you say if from the moment I met you. This tavern welcomed dwarves before Buck bought it. I used to listen to them talk to each other. Your language is so harsh sounding, I’d have never guessed that you say the most beautiful things.” His eyes finally lifted to meet hers. They were clouded and guarded. “I know I’m not saying it correctly. I don’t know how to make the right sounds-”

“It’s not an easy language for humans. I-I don’t think you’re saying what you think you are-”

“Kili.” She rushed to cut him off, holding his face in her hands. “I love you, Kili. Every hour we’ve spent in that awful tavern only proves to me that my feelings for you are real. And judging by the way you keep coming back after Buck kicks you out, I... am I wrong to think you might feel something for me as well?”

His arms closed around her waist as if he were moving through water. Everything around him was a blur except for her three words that echoed in his mind like a steady heartbeat. “I come here only for you. I hate that tavern,” he said.

She laughed thickly. “I know. I know you hate the music and the food and the people-”

“But I love you.” He weaved his fingers through her hair and rose to his toes to kiss her. “I love you,” he mumbled against her lips. He’d finally said it and now he couldn’t stop. He chanted in her mouth, against her skin, up to her lips. “I love you. I will live in the attic of that bar if it means seeing you every day.”

“You might have to,” she chuckled, finally pulling away to look at him. “Your brother may kick you out of that mountain of yours when he finds out you left him alone in there.”

He hummed. “You’re always causing me trouble, amrâlimê.”

“Say it again.”

He kissed her. “Amrâlimê.”

Taglist! @emrfangirl @misslongcep @raindancer2004 @ladybugg1235 @xxbyimm @burningcoffeetimetravel @fizzyxcustard @fire-flv @nerdbirdsworld @dashesofink @teagarages @dark-angel-be-thirsty-af @zulfiya-the-warrior-princess @winchesterandpie @marigoldvance

#kili ktuesday #kili x reader #kili x human!reader #the hobbit fanfiction #aidan turner x reader #the hobbit fanfic #the hobbit fic #the hobbit

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danielcooperrp · 3 years

Text

We Two Boys Together Clinging

Halfway through 19th Century American Poetry and Drew has a sensation with which he is all too familiar: eyes boring into the back of head. It doesn't matter how many times he's been gawked at in a restaurant or in the allergy aisle of CVS (hay fever is a bitch), the feeling of the little hairs on the back of his neck standing up never fails to make him want to slink into a hole and die. He tries to ignore it, tries to focus all of his attention on the professor, who is droning on about the difference between various editions of Leaves of Grass, but that only lasts so long. Eventually, he caves, and he turns to look.

He's not shocked when the dark eyes watching him quickly dart away—people are often abashed when they get caught staring—but it is a surprise when, a few moments later, they return to meet his. The face they belong to is handsome, warm, dark skin, a strong jaw, a slightly crooked nose that suggests some kind of trouble, and—oh. Two rows of perfect white teeth that he sees now because the face is grinning at him, an inviting, dangerous grin, and now Drew's the one looking away, his own cheeks glowing red. His eyes burn holes in his notebook—he hasn't written a word in so long, he'll have to research this edition issue on his own later—and the other guy's eyes burn holes in his skull.

Why is he looking at him like that? Drew hasn't said a thing all class, not that any of them would be able to get a word in edgewise. His eyes dart down to check his outfit; a little schnerdy, sure, but nothing that stands out in a Harvard classroom. He risks it again; a quick look back, and that smile is still waiting for him, this time a little softer, like he's happy he keeps getting caught.

By the time class ends, Drew is a sweaty mess. He has no idea what the professor said for the last half of that lecture, but he's not going to stick around to ask. He tosses his notebook and his copy of Whitman into his satchel and slides into the mass exodus from the room. He lets himself be carried toward the building exit by the river of hungry undergrads, hoping that he avoids whatever situation was brewing behind him in class, but the river comes to a screeching halt when everyone notices that it's pouring buckets outside. Those smart enough to plan ahead whip out their umbrellas and leave, and some who don't have any other choice lower their heads and shoulders as though preparing to take a charging bull head on and foray bravely into the downpour.

Drew doesn't have another class for forty-five minutes, and even though he was planning on getting lunch in the interim, he really doesn't want to get this sweater wet, so he decides to duck into an alcove and wait it out. He pulls out his phone, Googles the information he thinks he missed in class, and is halfway through an Encyclopedia Britannica article when someone clears their throat. He looks up and blinks owlishly. It's the teeth.

"Hi," the teeth say. "I'm Xander."

Drew stares. He doesn't know what to do with this information. During the rare instances someone deigns to talk to him, an introduction like "I'm Xander" is almost always followed by a request like "Can I get an picture?" or "Do you know where the bathroom is?", depending on if he's been recognized or not. But this...this is just warm brown eyes and a big shiny smile that he doesn't know what to with.

"Drew Cooper," he eventually blurts out, remembering that he is in fact a human person with a name. "Um. Hi."

Xander leans casually against the wall adjacent to Drew, the fabric of his shirt pulling tight over the bulk of his arms as he crosses them over his very muscular chest. "You know, I really liked what you had to say last week about the em dashes in Emily Dickinson's poems. How they're meant to give you space to breath but really end up making you feel breathless. Professor didn't know what do with that, but...I liked it."

What is happening what is happening what is hap— Drew swallows thickly. "Oh. Thanks. I, uh, visited the house in Amherst a lot growing up. School field trips, family weekends...I'm...familiar with her work."

Xander nods toward the corner of Leaves of Grass sticking out of Drew's satchel. "What about Whitman? He a favorite too?"

Drew shrugs. "Sure. Mostly 'Song of Myself' and 'Drum-Taps,' but generally...yeah, his language is...unparalleled." Drew pauses, unsure, and then continues. "Reading Whitman always reminds me that I need to look around more. That everything is beautiful if I let it be."

The smile grows bigger. "I really like the way you talk about poetry, Drew Cooper." Xander reaches into the JanSport he's got slung over one shoulder and pulls out an umbrella. "Want to talk about it over lunch?"

—————

It’s not until their third post-poetry class lunch that Drew finds out something interesting about his new friend. “Wait...you’re on the football team?”

Xander laughs, a loud, warm sound that makes Drew feel like he’s part of the joke instead of the butt of it. “Yeah, yeah, I’m on the football team.” Drew makes a face. “What?”

“Well...don’t take this the wrong way, but...” Drew swirls his spoon in his cup of clam chowder. “...is Harvard’s team any good?”

This earns a longer, louder laugh from Xander, who takes a bite of his grilled chicken when he’s done. “In the grand scheme of things? No. We go up against Auburn or Clemson and we’re getting our asses kicked, no questions asked. But against the teams we actually play? We’re not half-bad.”

“So what position do you play?”

“Tight end.”

“Oh, I know that one. That’s...an important one.”

Xander suppresses the laugh this time. “It’s okay, Cooper. You don’t have to pretend to like football.”

Drew scrunches his nose. “I’m sorry. I come from a sports family. My dad and my older sister, in particular, they’ll talk for hours about football or baseball or hockey...it all goes over my head.”

With a shrug, Xander says, “Well, you’ve got enough good stuff going on in that head. No need to waste brain space on stuff that doesn’t matter.”

Drew feels himself starting to flush, so he quickly tries to shift the focus. “Well what about you? If football doesn’t matter, why risk CTE for it?”

“Scholarships, Cooper! You think Harvard pays for itself? I got in on test scores, but test scores don’t get you out of loans. Football does.”

And doesn’t that make Drew feel so silly. He knows how unbelievably lucky he is, that he had every semester of higher education he could ever want at whatever university would take him paid for before he was even born. If he had the mind to, he could keep taking classes at Harvard or Yale or Oxford until he died and he’d never have to think about the cost. Xander actually has to work for his education, and Drew feels like a little kid in comparison.

—————

They’ve been in a little back corner of Lamont Library for a few hours now, bent over their respective texts as they work on assignments for different classes. Drew’s nose-deep in an anthology of Helen Hunt Jackson, while Xander’s scribbling away at equations for one of his insanely complicated math classes. They work in comfortable silence, and every once in a while Drew wonder how strange it is, the easy way they spend their days together.

At one point, Xander throws down his pencil in disgust. “That’s it. Cooper, I’m dropping out.”

Drew makes a face. “You’re not dropping out, Xander.”

“I am. No economics degree is worth this.” He gestures vaguely to his chicken-scratch math homework.

“I mean, you’re not going to hear an argument from me, the guy studying History and Literature.” Drew peeks at the equations. “Would it help if you explained it to me?”

Xander furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...my sisters always head more of a head for the STEM subjects, while I’ve always been better at...” He waves a hand over his poetry book. “...softer stuff. But when I was a kid, my dad, who’s, like, an insane science nerd to the max, would tell me to pretend that I was the science teacher and I had to teach him the homework. It really helped. Explaining out loud, going over each problem piece by piece, helped me understand it better.” He flushes. “It’s just a thought, though. You don’t have to...”

“On one condition.” Xander smirks. “You have to tell me all of your thoughts on Thoreau afterward.”

Drew can’t fight his grin. “Deal.”

—————

Drew’s schedule is light on Tuesdays, so he’s back in the apartment he shares with Aidan, about halfway between Harvard and MIT’s campuses. She’s here, too, ditching a class she claims is “beneath the mathematical sensibilities of a first-grader.” She and some friend Drew is sure he should know the name of are on their little balcony, sipping wine coolers and people-watching while Drew reads for his early Wednesday class. Mostly, really, he’s listening to them gossip.

“See her?”

“Blond ponytail?”

“No, by the crosswalk, with the dog. Don’t tell her you have a fake ID, she’ll narc on you in a heartbeat.”

“Get out!”

“Dead serious. Freshman down the hall got busted because of her.”

“What a bitch. Over there, those two: dating or siblings?”

“They’re practically identical, so I’m hoping siblings....Oh god, please let me be wrong...”

“Who’s that?”

“Where?”

“Coming down the sidewalk here.”

“He’s hot, whoever he is.”

“I’ll say.”

“Wait...why does he look familiar....”

“Wasn’t he at that party two weekends ago? The one on Banks Street?”

“Oh my god, that’s it, he’s on the Harvard football team!”

Drew’s head snaps up.

“Tell you what, he could score a touchdown any day. Look at those arms...Drew?”

Drew scrambles off of the couch and flings himself onto the balcony. Aidan gives him a wild look. “What the hell?”

Peering over the edge, Drew spies Xander just as he gets to the front door of their building. He doesn’t need to use the buzzer, because someone’s coming out. “Oh.”

“Drew?”

Ignoring his sister, Drew rushes back to the couch, where he grabs all of his books and notebooks and tosses them into his backpack. Then he races into his bedroom to grab shoes. “I, uh, have to go! Study thing!”

Aidan looks down to the street and back to her panicked twin. “Drew...are you friends with a football player?”

“No!” Drew squeaks. “Yes! I mean, yes, we are friends. We have a class together. I have to go!”

Aidan squints in suspicion as Drew charges out the door. When it slams shut behind him, her friend says, “Does he know his sweater is on backward?”

Aidan shrugs. “Not my business.”

—————

“Why do you hang out with me?”

It’s a hazy October afternoon, and Drew and Xander are hanging out in Flagstaff Park, studying. People call out to Xander as they walk by, and Xander gives them a friendly wave or a “Hey man!” but makes no move to get up and socialize. Drew knows he’s quiet, not the best conversationalist in the world, so he wonders.

“What do you mean?” Xander looks at him like he always does, like Drew is about to say something absolutely revelatory.

“I mean...shouldn’t you be hanging out with the rest of the football team? Is that what you’re supposed to do?”

Xander seems amused. “Is that what you want me to do?”

“No,” Drew answers too quickly. “I just...I don’t know. I’ve never had someone spend so much time with me who wasn’t a blood relative, that’s all. And it seems like you have a lot of friends so...I don’t know...forget it...” Embarrassed, he turns back to his history textbook.

A wide hand, fingers splayed, plops down over the pages, and Drew looks up to see Xander rolling his eyes. “I hang out with you so much, Cooper, because I like spending time with you, and also, I’m hoping that if I earn enough goodwill you’ll let me take you out to dinner at some point.”

Drew freezes. “I—what?”

“I mean, if you’re not into me, that’s fine. I’m a big boy, I can handle it. But the thing is, I think you are into me, which is great, because I’m into you too, but I don’t mind biding my time until you’re ready.”

Every single neuron in Drew’s brain is misfiring. “You’re—into me?”

“Man got himself into Harvard just to outshine the professors and he still can’t read what’s right in front of him.” Xander sighs. “Yes, Cooper, I am into you, and would like to start seeing you socially in a romantic capacity.”

“But...you’re on the football team!”

“I—what?” Drew just gapes at him. “Cooper...” Xander starts to laugh, slow at first, and then harder.

“Wait, why are you laughing at me?”

“It’s just...really refreshing to talk to someone as woefully out of touch as you are.”

“Hey!”

“Cooper, I dated a guy on the swim team for like two months last year. My being gay is...not news. To anyone.”

“Apparently not my sister,” Drew grumbles.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Drew shakes his head. Nothing is making sense. “Do you know...who I am?”

“...We’ve met, yeah.”

“No, I mean...my family.”

“Oh.” Xander shrugs. “Yeah. Did some light Googling. I mean, c’mon, a white boy as quiet and smart as you? I had to be sure you weren’t secretly a neo-Nazi or some shit.”

“I’m Jewish,” Drew mumbles, “but that’s not the point. You know...who I’m related to.”

“Yeah. Am I supposed to care?” Xander reaches out and takes Drew’s hand, interlaces their fingers together. Drew’s heart is pounding so hard in his ears he can barely hear Xander speak. “Cooper, I am an economics major. I don’t want to date you because your grandpa was a billionaire. I want to date you in spite of the fact that your grandpa was a billionaire.”

Drew chokes out a laugh. “Fair enough.”

“I mean, you’re cute and all, but don’t think I won’t eat you for sustenance when the class war starts.”

His laugh is louder this time. “Stop.”

“So what do you say?” A squeeze of the fingers, and a squeeze to his heart. “Drew Cooper, will you go on a date with me?”

Drew chews on his lip, and then he nods. “Yeah. Yeah I will.”

Then Xander grins his perfect white grin, and Drew knows he’s a goner.

#drabble #v1 #drew #xander #thenamesallison #i................spent hours on this #i did nothing today #where did this even come from wtf

4 notes · View notes

chilling-seavey · 4 years

Note

For “Anything But Mine” blurb – first meeting between Florence and Daniel ~T

Yess...this one has a special place in my heart. This is the song that inspired it x

Word Count: 5.4k (yikes)

The house party was farther into the downtown core, set on a calm street near the university campus but the night brought rowdiness to the neighbourhood. Aidan helped Florence out of the car and they stood arm in arm on the curb, staring up at the house. Late aged teenagers were spread around the lawn and taking up all the space on the porch in a cloud of smoke. The loud music thudded the foundation of the old house and Florence could have sworn the windows were about to burst.

It took a lot of convincing to Aidan’s dad to let them go, especially in Florence’s condition, but they assured him they would stick together and be home in good time.

“How did you hear about this party again?” Florence asked Aidan slowly without taking her eyes off the house.

“Just someone in my kinesiology class.” Aidan mumbled. He turned to her and smiled. “It’ll be fine.”

“I know.” Florence returned his comforting smile and they headed for the porch. She was wearing blue jeans and a white t-shirt with a grey cardigan, her growing baby bump projecting under the material of the shirt. Of course, it got her a few stares, a group of guys who were smoking on the porch staring at her stomach as she walked into the house. It was staring she was all too used to while going out in public, so she didn’t let it phase her.

“What do you want to do?” Aidan asked her loudly as they made their way into the foyer of the house.

“I’ll just find a place to sit and enjoy the ambiance.” Florence giggled.

“Are you sure?” Aidan asked.

“Yeah! You go have fun…find your friends. I’ll text you if I need you.”

“I’ll make sure to keep my ringer on.” Aidan said. He set his backpack down and shuffled through it to find her virgin margarita in a can. She took it with a soft ‘thank you’ and he gave her a quick one-armed hug and a smile before he headed off to find his friends, bag slung over one shoulder.

Florence took a deep breath and look around the area, seeing the house absolutely packed with university students. It was an unknown house to her, but she walked slowly through the crowd, the cool can secure in her hand. Her other hand was set over her sweater, trying to hide her condition to the onlookers as she squeezed past groups as she entered the kitchen. It was a little less busy there although some girl in limited clothing had her tongue down some guy’s throat. Florence cringed to herself, scanning the room to find a place to sit. The breakfast area that was attached to the kitchen had an L-shaped couch in the corner by the windows leading to the backyard and she placed herself down with her drink. She watched the loud party-goers move around the house as she cracked open her drink and took a small sip.

It was refreshing to finally be out of the Clifford’s house but Florence still felt nervous being around so many unfamiliar people. She started to scold herself for ever thinking it was a good idea to be there. Before she could send a text to Aidan, someone approached her.

“Can I sit here?”

Florence looked up at the brunette boy beside her. He had a can in his hand and a friendly smile on his lips, staring down at her with piercing blue eyes.

“Uh…sure.” Florence nodded, shuffling over a little to he could join her.

“Thanks.” he sat down with a sigh, leaving a good amount of space between them. He took a sip from his can before turning to her. “Not the party type?”

Florence scoffed and simply shrugged, looking to her lap. She was worried this was some sort of dare that his drunk friends put him up to; someone else walking around and ready to take advantage of her.

“This isn’t usually my scene either.” The boy spoke gently. “I don’t drink. Or party.”

Florence eyed the drink in his hands.

“This is only my second.” He assured her as if that was supposed to make her more comfortable to be around him. “And probably my last since I can’t seem to shut my mouth.”

He leaned forward and set the almost empty can on the floor by the leg of the bench before sitting back and facing her. Florence’s eyes followed his every move.

“I’m Daniel.” he offered her an outstretched hand.

“Florence.” She answered slowly, returning his handshake.

“Nice to meet you, Florence.” he smiled softly, genuinely. “Were you forced here by your friends too?”

“No. It was my idea. A dumb idea but…mine.”

“You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“I’m really not.” Florence scoffed.

“Me neither.” Daniel sighed, slouching back against the couch. “I’ve had two beers that honestly did not taste good and my friends are out back having the time of their lives but honestly they’re all plastered already and I’m feeling pretty lonely. Gosh, I swear I’m usually not this talkative. But I’m not drunk; I feel totally sober.”

“Yeah, right.” Florence chuckled.

Daniel shot a smile her way, crossing his arms lazily over his chest, head resting back against the wall, staring at her with those vibrant blue eyes that seemed to shine through the dark house.

“I don’t get the desire to be so drunk, you know? Do they enjoy throwing up everything up in their stomachs at the end of the night?”

“I don’t get it either.” Florence chuckled lightly, picking at her fingernails nervously on her lap, looking away from his intense stare shyly.

Silence fell between them.

“Sorry if I’m bothering you.” Daniel said. “I can leave you alone if you want.”

“No, you’re not bothering me.” Florence looked back up at him. “I guess I’m just not used to people…boys…wanting to talk to me.”

“Why not?”

“I dunno.” Florence shrugged, discreetly setting her hands on her stomach. She hoped he wouldn’t notice.

He did, eyes dropping to her swollen belly under her white t-shirt as she pulled her cardigan over herself to cover it. He didn’t say anything, looking back up to her straight-lined expression.

“They don’t give me a second glance usually. Of if they do its for the wrong reasons. I’m more of a self-directed type of person, I suppose.”

“I get that.” Daniel whispered, turning his body to face her, resting his head on his hand leaning against the back of the couch. “I’ve been too focused on music these past few years to even look at girls and moving across the country last month didn’t help my anxiety. If it wasn’t for the two drinks I’ve had tonight, I wouldn’t be sitting here with enough guts to talk to you.”

“You’re in music?” Florence asked, looking back to him.

“Yeah. I want to be a music producer. Mum and Dad said trying to be a famous singer is unrealistic, so I settled for this.” Daniel shrugged. “It’s really fun though. I’m glad I took the leap of faith.”

“That’s really cool.” Florence smiled softly.

“What are you studying?”

“Uhm,” Florence dropped her gaze again, “I’m not in school. I graduated high school and now I’m living with family friends.”

“That’s okay too.” Daniel said quickly. “Not everyone fits into the insane university lifestyle.”

“I wanted to.” Florence mumbled. “I really did. But unforeseen circumstances arrive, and you can never expect those.”

“Yeah.” Daniel breathed, eyeing her small bump under her cardigan. “How far along are you?”

He spoke softly, nothing but gentle, but Florence’s cheeks flushed a terrible red and she looked the opposite direction.

“Sorry…I shouldn’t have…I’m sorry.” Daniel sighed, running a hand over his face. “God, I can’t seem to shut up.”

Florence couldn’t help but chuckle a little at his exasperation.

“It’s okay.” She said. “No one’s really asked before…no one seems to care. I’m seven months.”

“Wow.” Daniel’s eyes went wide. “And you’re here?”

“I got bored of sitting at home alone.” Florence shrugged. “I wanted to feel like a normal eighteen-year-old for one night, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Daniel sighed.

“Got my virgin mango margarita to keep me entertained.” Florence wiggled her can in her hand to show him.

“I’m trying really hard to shut up but I’m a little tipsy and I literally cannot repress this anymore so I’m sorry if this is weird, I just really love babies; can I touch your belly?”

“Oh…sure.” Florence mumbled, slowly dropping her cardigan that hid her from him.

Daniel met her gaze to make sure it was really okay, and she gave him a quick nod. He reached his one hand out and set it on top ever so gently.

“We might get a kick.” Florence whispered, tapping her finger tips along the curve of her stomach.

Sure enough, Daniel felt a tiny nudge against his palm and his face broke into a beaming smile.

“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl yet?”

“A girl.” Florence sighed. Daniel glanced at her face when she sighed, her soft smile suddenly disappeared.

“Did you not want a girl?” he asked, taking his hand back.

“No, I did. I’m really happy about that. I just…” Florence waved her hand, “Don’t worry about it.”

Daniel nodded once as he knew to let it go. It wasn’t the right time to pry into her personal life, especially when his mental filter wasn’t working. They sat in silence together, staring out at the bustling party around them.

“Florence DiCaprio?”

Her head snapped up to the boy who was approaching them, the dark curly hair easily recognizable to the girl.

“Hey…Patrick.” Florence mumbled, quickly tugging the cardigan back around her, covering her belly as if it wasn’t even there.

“I didn’t expect to see you at a frat party.” Patrick laughed.

Daniel flicked his eyes between the two, his body still turned towards Florence and he could sense her sudden switch from calm to tense. Her jaw was clenched tightly, wide eyes staring up at the curly haired boy as if waiting for him to attack her.

“Yeah. I’m here with Aidan.” Florence spoke as strongly as she could.

Patrick’s eyes fell on Daniel and he looked him up and down before smiling tightly, “This doesn’t look like Aidan.”

“Daniel.” The brunette boy offered out his hand.

“Nice to meet you, bro.” Patrick chuckled, taking his handshake. He looked back to Florence, “This your new boyfriend?”

“I don’t think it’s really any of your business what we are or aren’t.” Daniel blurted out. Florence dropped her nervous gaze to her lap.

“Relax, man.” Patrick mumbled. “We went to high school together…I’m just catching up.”

“She clearly doesn’t want to ‘catch up’ if you couldn’t tell.” Daniel narrowed his eyes at him, setting his hand on Florence’s hand that was on her lap.

“Yeah, I know. Things obviously haven’t changed.” Patrick chuckled, shaking his head, before stalking off into the crowd.

“Sorry.” Daniel took his hand back from hers, hesitantly glancing at her in case he crossed a line.

“Thank you.” Florence said at the same time.

“Who is that?” Daniel asked.

“Some idiot who bullied my twin brother in high school.” Florence shrugged, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Thank you for getting him gone.”

“Don’t thank me, thank this warm can of Canadian.” Daniel picked up his beer from the floor again and took another sip, making a face. “Yep…still disgusting.”

Florence laughed lightly, finally relaxing into her new company. She tucked her leg up under her on the couch, so she was facing him too, “So, where did you move here from?”

“The one and only rainy and mountainous Vancouver, British Columbia.”

“Ah. West coast represents.” Florence smiled.

“Did I find the only other west-coaster in this entire party?” Daniel gaped.

“LA born.” Florence shrugged. “Definitely identify as Canadian though. Had to get me the hell out of there as soon as I could.”

“Oh, good. Canadians are superior.” Daniel nodded matter-of-factly.

“Some of them.” Florence rolled her eyes in the direction that Patrick left in.

“He’s clearly not from here.” Daniel assured her playfully.

Florence smiled lightly. He returned it, showing a little gap between his two front teeth that made her drawn to him that much more…his uniqueness.

“Let me think of a question to ask you.” Daniel leaned his head back against the couch and squeezed his eyes closed in thought. A few long seconds passed before he was looking back at her, “What’s your middle name?”

“Guess.” Florence shrugged.

“No, I’m bad at guessing!” Daniel whined dramatically.

“Well I’m not telling you until you get it right.”

“Olivia.”

“No.”

“Rose.”

“No.”

“Marie.”

“Stop guessing basic white girl middle names.” Florence scoffed through a laugh.

“We’re going to be here a while.”

“Alright, Florence Margret, one apple juice shot for you and one for me.” Daniel shouted loudly over the music as he shut the fridge and turned back to her. They stood in the kitchen with two filled plastic shot glasses, a good hour of friendly conversation under their belts.

“Thank you, Daniel James.” Florence giggled, clinking the little cup in her hand against his.

They both tossed it back before slamming the plastic empty shots against the granite island.

“Oh, wow, that’s strong.” Daniel choked dramatically, pressing a hand to his mouth and pulled a disgusted face. “I think it’s getting to my head already.” He leaned heavily against the island.

“I doubt the apple juice will have much effect on you. You were already tipsy to start.” Florence teased.

“Am not.” Daniel stuck his tongue out at her.

“You definitely are.” Florence chuckled.

“I’m just…happy.”

“Happy on alcohol.”

“Two beers.” Daniel whined in his defence. “Just two. Don’t bully me.”

“It’s not my problem that you’re a lightweight.”

Daniel gasped, pressing a hand to his chest in mock hurt, “I am no such thing.”

Florence only shrugged, shooting him a teasing smile as she grabbed their disposable shot glasses and tossed them in the garbage bag by the sink.

“Bet you can’t handle alcohol any better.” Daniel scoffed playfully.

“I don’t. How do you think I got pregnant?” Florence smirked.

Daniel’s sharp gasp made her laugh.

“That’s ruthless.” Daniel finally broke into a smile, mirroring hers.

“If you can’t laugh at your bad situations what else do you have?”

“Come on.” Daniel said suddenly as he grabbed her hand. “Let’s go dance or something.”

“Oh,” Florence mumbled, “I don’t…I can’t dance.”

“You think I can?” Daniel snorted, pulling her through the crowd to the living room where the speaker was located, music booming through the room louder than it was in the back of the house.

Of course, no one else was dancing; the university students simply stuck in their small social groups, at most swaying lightly to the music. Some Coldplay song was playing, the bass shaking the walls of the empty room. Daniel went right into it, belting out the lyrics at the top of his lungs, hands thrown out as he jumped around.

“Oh my God.” Florence laughed, pressing her hand to her mouth.

A few other party-goers looked over at the free-living boy and gave him weird looks.

“Come on!” Daniel grabbed both of her hands in his and pulled her to the middle of the room.

“Daniel…I can’t…” Florence mumbled, her cheeks going pink as everyone’s eyes were on them.

“Who cares what they think?” Daniel shouted over the music, starting to spin them in circles as the chorus began, throwing his head back and singing loudly. She couldn’t deny that he was a good singer, even in his drunken state he could hit those high notes perfectly. His smile was infectious, and she laughed along with him, finding herself melting into their present state, twirling herself like a ballerina under his one hand.

Daniel pulled her against him, one hand falling around her back and the other still holding tightly to hers, twirling around the tight living room in some sort of messily waltz through the second verse of the upbeat song. She shrieked giddily as they almost crashed into multiple people, but he kept her steady, not even stepping on her feet once despite his almost ungraceful pace. He caught her as she stumbled out of their waltz, laughing loudly, high on nothing but life and her newfound friendship. They screamed the lyrics of the next chorus together, twirling around the living room breathlessly.

Their moment didn’t last long before Florence felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She stopped her dancing and pulled it out, seeing Michael’s name flashing on the screen.

“Who is it?” Daniel asked with concern.

“Michael.” Florence grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the living room after her to the kitchen and out to the backyard where it was a bit quieter.

“Who’s Michael?” Daniel asked cautiously.

“The family friend I’m staying with.” Florence answered, scanning the area for Aidan. The tall boy stood out easily and Florence answered the call as she made her way over to him, still holding onto Daniel.

“Hey, Mikey.” She answered loud enough to make Aidan look over at her.

“Hey, sunshine. You doing okay?” Michael asked.

“Just fine. I’m having fun.” Florence said quickly.

“That’s good. Is Aidan there?”

“Yeah. One sec.” Florence thrust the phone at Aidan.

He kept his stare on her as he pressed the phone to his ear. “Hey, dad.”

Daniel looked between them, his eyebrows furrowed with slight confusion as to who all of these people were in relation to the girl he had met only a few short hours before.

“Yeah.” Aidan rolled his eyes at whatever his father said on the other line. “She’s good, dad. We’re fine…yes I know: home by 3…we will…okay…yeah…love you too.”

Aidan blushed furiously as he gave Florence her phone back. His two friends didn’t think anything of him telling his father he loves him, simply smiling at Florence as she spoke to Michael again. She had only met his friends once or twice when they came past the house.

When Michael was reassured that everything was under control Florence sighed deeply and pushed her phone back into her pocket.

“I didn’t think he was actually going to call.” Florence said.

“Me neither.” Aidan tisked, taking a long sip from his can. He eyed Daniel. “Who’s this?”

“This is Daniel.” Florence introduced them, suddenly a little shyer than she was when she was dancing in front of everyone at the party.

Like usual, Daniel held out his hand to Aidan who smirked at him and shook his hand.

“Aidan.” He introduced himself before gesturing to the other two guys with him. “These are my friends Jonah and Corbyn.”

They all fell into a small silence.

“Okay well…we’re going to go. You’re boring.” Florence said, linking her arm in Daniel’s who offered the guys a grin.

“You’re one to talk.” Aidan teased.

“See you around, guys.” Florence called over her shoulder as she pulled Daniel away and across the grass.

“You seem to know a lot of people for someone who was sitting alone.” Daniel said.

“They’re all Aidan’s friends.” Florence shrugged.

“And Aidan is…?”

“Family friend.” Florence finished, “Kind of dated my twin brother earlier this year before my family moved back to LA. I stayed back and the Clifford’s gave me their guest room until I get myself on my feet.” Florence sighed, finding a bench at the far edge of the backyard under a large tree and they sat down together.

“And why aren’t you with them?” Daniel asked quietly.

“Got priorities that they wouldn’t understand.” Florence shrugged, pointing to her belly.

“Yeah.” Daniel sighed, keeping his eyes focussed on the busy house across the lawn.

It was almost dark where they sat if it wasn’t for the string of little lights thrown throughout the tree branches above them. The autumn night was chilly and Florence tucked her arms around herself to keep a little warm. Daniel shuffled closer to her and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him. Her cheeks flushed pink at the simple action, her head almost against his in their close proximity and the feeling of his hand on her was so foreign.

“I’m glad you’re not in LA.” Daniel mumbled.

Florence looked to him a smiled softly, “Me too.”

He met her gaze, their noses almost touching. She looked to her lap.

“You smell really nice.” he whispered before he could think. He pressed a hand to his face, “Oh my gosh…sorry. That’s weird.”

“It’s fine.” Florence chuckled.

“I think…I’m still a little drunk.” Daniel mumbled, ruffling a hand through his hair.

“I thought you weren’t drunk?” Florence raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, no, I’m not.” he shook his head.

“But you just said you were.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I think you definitely did.” Florence laughed.

“I think you’re hearing things.” Daniel shrugged, looking away from her casually.

“You’re ridiculous.” Florence rolled her eyes playfully, tossing her own arm over his shoulders.

He looked back at her and smiled calmly. His eyes were on hers, his smile fading a little as the seconds passed, the distance between them almost non-existent and his fingers twisted the material of her grey cardigan lazily.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Florence breathed, her heart beating hard in her chest at just how his eyes were on hers.

“I’m too tipsy for this.” Daniel mumbled.

“For what?” Florence asked.

His other hand went to her cheek and he started to lean in to kiss her.

She turned her head away from him, pressing a hand to his chest to keep him away from her, “Yeah. You’re definitely too tipsy to do that.”

“I-I’m sorry.” Daniel stammered. “Shit…fuck…I’m so sorry. I thought…”

He shifted to face forward, the two of them stunned into silence, eyes wide and looking anywhere but at each other.

“I’m so sorry.” Daniel breathed.

“Stop saying that. It’s fine.” Florence ran a hand through her hair.

“Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad.” She chuckled lightly, glancing over at him.

“You’re just…really pretty and really nice and I don’t…I got too excited, I guess?” he shifted nervously on the bench, eyes focussed on the grass below his feet. “It was a mistake so let’s forget that happened. I mean, I’m not saying kissing you would be a mistake because that would be great. I just never kissed anyone before and you’re just…amazing and beautiful and really sweet and…amazing…and like I can see myself marrying you one day, I just…” he hid his red face in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees, “God dammit, Daniel, shut the hell up.”

Florence laughed lightly, not quite knowing what to say to that.

“I’m just going to go.” he stood up, avoiding looking at her at all costs, running his hand through his hair as if he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Sit down.” Florence chuckled, grabbing the hem of his white t-shirt and pulled him back onto the bench.

“I don’t drink.” Daniel mumbled.

“I can tell.” Florence set her hand on his leg.

They sat in silence a moment.

“I don’t even know your birthday.” Florence said. “I’m not going to jump right into something so fast because last time I did that look where it got me.”

Daniel cracked a small smile.

She moved closer to him and set a hand on the side of his face as she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I don’t think you’re getting rid of me after tonight.” Florence whispered.

“Florence!” Aidan called from across the backyard. “We need to go.”

“Coming!” she shouted back. She pushed her cellphone into Daniel’s hands. “I’ll text you, okay?”

He typed his number with shaking hands before handing it back, watching her stand up with wide eyes.

“Sorry I have to leave so soon. Thank you for a fun night.” Florence beamed.

“You too.” Was all he could stammer out as she walked quickly across the lawn to where Aidan was waiting to take her home.

Daniel was sure he had ruined any and all chances with her once she left the party and he spent the remainder of the night with his best friend, Jack, downing a little too much vodka until he was vomiting behind a tree on their walk back to their dormitory at 5am. He rambled on about being single and lonely for the rest of his life as Jack had to nearly carry him home.

“It’s only you to fall for a pregnant girl, Dan.” Jack groaned, needing to almost pull him up the stone stairs of the old building.

“She’s all alone in the world.” Daniel blubbered, clinging onto him.

“I’m sure she’s just fine.” Jack said.

“Not anymore! Not after I ruined it!” Daniel wailed, his voice echoing down the hallway.

“Shh! It’s 5 fucking am, Daniel. Jesus Christ.” Jack scolded him as he swiped their key-card at their room door and pushed him inside.

“She’s not going to text me.” Daniel grumbled, kicking off his white Vans and haphazardly shimmying out of his jeans, his eyes already starting to close.

“You don’t know that. She probably fell asleep when she got home and will send you something later.” Jack said, keeping his hands on either side of his best friend as he climbed shakily up the ladder to his twin size loft bed.

“I’m going to die alone. No one loves me.” Daniel whimpered, pulling his blankets over himself as he laid down.

“I love you, bro.” Jack sighed, stepping up on top of the desk to make sure his friend was safely tucked. “Even when you ruin the entire night by throwing up everywhere.”

“I don’t drink.” Daniel mumbled sleepily, his lips set in a pout and his eyes already closed.

“Yeah. I know. I’m not taking you out ever again.” Jack rolled his eyes, starting to get himself ready for bed.

Sure enough, when Daniel woke up around mid-afternoon, he had a text waiting for him from an unknown number. He squinted at his screen through a pounding headache to read it.

Good morning, Daniel James. Hope your hangover isn’t too bad this morning :) Let me know when you want to go get something to eat and I’ll bring the Advil

He woke up Jack with his way-too high-pitched excited scream and got a pillow whipped at him from across the room.

#anything but mine #blurbs #why dont we imagines #why dont we

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avengerscompound · 4 years

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She Sets the City on Fire - Diving In

She Sets the City on Fire: A Bruce Banner Fanfic

MASTERLIST PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Square: @brucebannerbingo - C5 this image

Rating: E

Warning: Age Gap, Smut (M|F public sex, vaginal sex)

Word Count: 3169

Pairing: Bruce Banner x OFC (Summer)

Summary: Bruce is drawn to Summer. She’s everything he wished he could be. Carefree, exciting, and she knows exactly who she is. There are so many reasons a relationship with her wouldn’t work. So why can’t he stop thinking about her?

A/N: On the first chapter

3. Diving In

Bruce wandered down West 88th with his hands in his pockets. There seemed to be some kind of street beautifying event happening. Children were selling cupcakes and lemonade on a small card table and up and down the street people were tending to trees, picking up litter, and cleaning graffiti off the walls.

He stopped at the card table and brought a pink cupcake with a flower on it. As he made his way to Summer’s house he came across Aidan repainting a fence.”

“Hi, Doctor Banner. How're things?” He said, holding out his hand to Bruce.

Bruce shook his hand. “Good. I was just in the neighborhood. I thought I’d stop by.” He answered. That wasn’t true. He wasn’t just in the neighborhood. He had caught the subway specifically to get here, changing trains on the way. He wasn’t here to see Aidan either. He was here for Summer. After their last night together, they’d spoken on the phone a lot. They texted daily. Nothing deep or meaningful. Just the random musings of their day. He couldn’t get a read on her. She said she wasn’t girlfriend material, yet the way she talked was like she really wanted that connection. True love was often a topic of conversation.

“How are you?” Bruce asked.

Aidan laughed. “I know you’re not here for me. She’s over on the steps I think.”

Bruce headed to the stairs and when he saw her, for a moment he thought his heart had stopped. She was sitting on the steps with a bubble wand, blowing bubbles. She was laughing with the children and the way the sun caught in her red hair made it look like it was on fire. She was like fae and in that moment between heartbeats Bruce overthought everything, starting with the age difference and ending with how she was so happy with those children and one day she’d want some of her own and he couldn’t do that. Not ever.

She noticed him and jumped to her feet, launching herself into his arms. He had to catch her while simultaneously making sure he didn’t crush the cupcake into her back.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, both joy and excitement bursting out of her.

“I just wanted to see you,” he answered honestly. That was the truth of it after all. She was like a drug and he couldn’t get enough of her.

She kissed the corner of his mouth and she let him go. One of the kids was tugging on the sleeve of her blue lace shirt.

“Summer. Summer. Summer. Can you do the big ones again?” The little girl asked.

Summer grinned. She jumped down off the steps to the sidewalk and picked up two sticks that were sitting in a bucket. There was a cord running between them and Summer spun around, flicking her wrists in the air and a gigantic bubble formed and then wobbled towards the group of children. They squealed and reached for it, popping it over their heads.

Summer put the sticks into the little girl’s hands and walked her through the process of making the bubbles herself. It was almost like she was teaching the girl to dance. He was once again struck by that guilty, gnawing feeling. He needed to stop sniffing around this young woman. She had a whole life ahead of her that included marriage and children. He couldn’t give her that.

When the little girl was making the bubbles on her own, Summer grabbed her backpack and beckoned to Bruce. He followed her down the stairs and they made their way back towards Central Park, her arm hooked around his elbow.

“I bought you something,” Bruce said as they waited for the lights to signal they could cross Central Park West. He held out the cupcake and Summer took it. She took a bite, getting pink frosting on the tip of her nose.

“Thank you. That was really sweet.” She leaned her head on Bruce’s shoulder for a moment, but when the lights changed, she let him go completely and skipped across the street.

When they reached the other side of the road, Bruce wiped the frosting off her nose with his thumb. She giggled and took his hand, sucking the frosting off before taking his hand and heading into the park They made their way down into a cool grassy area where there was a large group of people playing an oversized version of Jenga, and then back up and out again. They followed the road for a little while and then veered off past the swingset and fitness station.

Summer stopped and took one of the empty swings, while Bruce sat on the one beside her. She began to swing in a big arc while Bruce just let his legs skim over the ground.

“Don’t you have to work today?” She asked as he watched her fly through the air. Her hair billowed out behind her and then blowing in her face as the swing switched direction.

“No. I can work when I feel like it,” Bruce said. “Unless of course, they need the Big Guy for something.”

“Avengers’ stuff.” Summer said. “Can I meet him do you think?”

“Who? The Hulk?” Bruce asked. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“I just want to know you completely, Bruce,” Summer said. “And he’s part of you.”

“He’s his own person. And he’s not exactly a happy one.” Bruce said.

A couple of kids formed a line behind them, so Summer jumped off mid-swing. Bruce followed after her and she took his hand, linking her fingers with his.

“You’ve only ever mentioned my work once before. Is the poster that you have at your parent’s place of the Hulk?” He asked.

Summer laughed. “No… it’s you. I have you and Tesla and Einstein and Ada Lovelace.”

Bruce was shocked. He wasn’t expecting that at all. When she’d originally said it, she pictured one of those Avengers ones where the group were all posing in some over the top ‘superhero’ pose and it wasn’t him, it was the other guy. To have him, because she liked this science - was flattering.

“Summer…” Bruce sighed. “What are we doing?”

“Are you all up in your head again, Brucie?” She said, stopping and taking his hands.

He nodded. “I don’t… I feel like I must be having some kind of midlife crisis. I don’t know what we are. And I don’t know if we should be anything.”

Summer smiled and pulled Bruce off the path. They were in a shady part of the park and there was a grassy incline running along beside them, leading up to some playing fields. Summer sat down on the grass and pulled Bruce down with her.

“I really like you, Bruce,” she said, running her fingers down his jaw. “The age thing doesn’t bother me. I know it’s a lot. I do. But I wouldn’t spend time with you if I didn’t enjoy it. And I do. I’m happy just doing what we’re doing. Hanging out. Screwing from time to time. If you think it’s wrong for some reason to be having sex with me, or you’re not good at that kind of casual thing, if it’s too confusing for you, we can take the sex out and just be friends.”

Bruce’s eyes flicked around the park before resting back on Summer again. “The problem is I don’t know what I want. You’re the first person I’ve even been brave enough to sleep since the accident. I feel safe with you and I love being around you. But it makes no sense. You’re nothing like me. We have nothing in common. But I can’t stop thinking about you. I don’t think it’s the sex. Is it the sex?”

Summer laughed and leaned her forehead against his. “It might be a little bit the sex. But I don’t think that’s it.”

“What do I even have to offer you?” Bruce asked. “You can’t have a family with me. I don’t do the things you enjoy doing. I’m just an old man…”

“You’re not an old man…” Summer scolded. “And who said you have to provide anything for me. I don’t want kids. I don’t want to get married. I don’t even want a boyfriend. I just want to enjoy spending time with this guy I like and get laid.”

Bruce didn’t say anything for a little while. Partly because his heart was racing and he was a little worried if he kept stressing himself out like this, Summer would end up finishing the conversation with the Hulk.

“I want to be your boyfriend.” He said quietly.

“You’re really sweet, Bruce. I love that about you. But it’s not enough for me.” Summer said. “I’m sorry.”

“We barely know each other. How do you know I can’t be other things? How do you know I won’t be fine with an open relationship?” Bruce asked. As he asked the question, he wondered about the answer himself. Maybe that’s what he did need. Someone who was his person, but he knew there were people to give them the things he couldn’t. That it didn’t matter that he wasn’t enough. Because he was enough for the important parts. The parts where you come back together and share your heart with them. “Tell me what you want from someone?”

Summer lay back and looked up at the sky. Bruce lay down next to her and she shifted so she was resting on his shoulder. “I want someone who’s sweet to me and that I can be sweet with. I also want someone who I can trust to be cruel to me. Who will treat me like an object, but I know that’s not actually how they see me. I want to dance and I want romantic dinners. I want to go skydiving and stay at home in my pajamas eating cookie dough with them on the couch. I want to be stimulated, sexually and intellectually. I want to be tied up and spanked. I also want to tie someone else up and spank them. I want to fuck in public. I want to have threesomes. In fact, I’d like to have someone who will fuck me while another couple fucks beside us and then we swap. I want someone who will talk dirty to me while I’m at some pretentious event. I want to put on a strapon and fuck my partner like that. I’d really like to fuck you and one of your Avengers friends at the same time. I’ve had dreams about things like that. I want someone who can go to musicals with me and action movies and ice skating and boogie boarding. I want someone who lets me be me. So far no one I’ve met will just let me be me, Bruce. They want one specific aspect of me.” She turned and looked up at Bruce with such pain in her eyes that he wanted to wrap her in his arms and protect her from anyone that had ever wanted to change her. “What do you want?”

“I want you, Summer,” Bruce said, softly.

Summer sighed and shook her head. “You can’t want all of that and I’ve been the person who had to change to make the other one happy. It sucks. I won’t do that to someone else.”

Bruce leaned in and kissed her, tangling his hand in her hair. She kissed back willingly, curling into him more and pushing her leg between his. He pulled back slowly and looked into her pale blue eyes. “Summer, do you know what I like about you?”

“You like that I’m spontaneous and that I act like a kid.” She said softly.

Bruce shook his head. “That’s the part of you that scares me. That makes me question myself,” he said honestly. “What I like is that you can find actual joy in the world. That you aren’t jaded and cynical. That you’re willing to try things regardless of what other people think of you. It physically hurts me every time I let the Hulk take control to save the world. Every time I do it, I worry that this will be the time I won’t come back. And I see you… and how you see the world. And it’s worth it. I want to share that with you. I want to test my limits with you. I want to be with you.”

“I’m not some kind of experiment you can run, Bruce.” Summer frowned.

“Isn’t that what dating is? Trying out a life with someone to see if it can work?” Bruce asked. He rolled over so he was leaning down over her. His fingers slid up between her legs and skimmed over her panties. “Summer, you make me want to try different things. You make me think it’s possible. And I want to test those limits with you.” He pressed briefly on her cunt before moving his hand up to her stomach. She sucked in air through her teeth and let out a soft whimper. “I’m not a child, Summer. I’m over twice your age. I know what I do and don’t want. I let people talk me into doing things I don’t want to do. I know what it feels like and this isn’t it.” He moved his hand up her body so it was resting on her throat. “There are things we need to worry about. Things I might not be able to do, but I want to try with you. You want me to get rough with you? I can try that. You want to get rough with me? We can give that a go. You want to share? I can share. You want to fuck in public? Let’s find somewhere right now. I know you were hurt in the past. Everyone has been hurt by someone, Sum. That doesn’t mean you give up. Trust me. I know.”

She looked up at him and swallowed thickly. “You won’t try and change me?”

“I know what that’s like too, Summer,” Bruce said. “And trust me, you’re perfect just as you are.”

Summer pulled him down into her. Her tongue ran over this top lip and he parted them allowing her access to his mouth. He ground his hips against her and she hummed, sliding her hands up under his shirt.

“Bruce,” Summer breathed, pulling back from him just a little. “Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

Bruce smiled softly up at her and tucked a lock of her hair behind his ear. “Yes, please.” He said. “Now, do you want to do the sex in public thing?”

Summer laughed. “In Central Park? We’ll go to jail. I’m adventurous, but I don’t want to go on the sex offenders list.��

“I think I know a place. Do you trust me?” Bruce asked.

Summer nodded and they got up. Bruce led her back the way they’d come a little way and then he turned down one of the smaller dirt paths and through a wooded area. The park got quieter and they hit a small wall. Bruce vaulted over it and Summer scrambled after him into a garden. It was surrounded by trees and there was not a soul in sight.

“How do you know about this? I’ve lived here for years and didn’t know about this area.” Summer said, glancing around the garden.

“I was on the run from the government for a long, long time. I know a lot of little hidden areas.” He said pushing her up against a tree. He kissed her hard, and she melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and spreading her legs enough for him to push his thigh between them. She hummed into his lips and began to grind against his leg.

“Even though we’re protected by the trees, we still need to be quick. In and out.” Bruce whispered when he broke the kiss.

Summer started laughing. “Sounds hot,” she said and started to stroke his cock through his slacks.

They kissed again and began to rut against each other. Hulk seemed to rise up in the back of his head, staying alert for danger. Bruce’s hands traveled up under Summer’s skirt and he stroked her pussy through the fabric of her underwear as she moaned softly against his ear.

Bruce pulled back from her, he pulled his wallet from his pocket and pulled a condom from it. He tore it open, sheathed himself and lifted Summer, pushing her against the tree. She wrapped her legs around him and he pushed her panties to the side entered her.

Summer buried her face in his neck as he thrust into her. “Oh god, Bruce,” she breathed, holding on as she fell apart for him. She slipped her hand between them and began to rub her clit. He had never felt so alive. This was the furthest he’d ever pushed himself and rather than fearing that the Hulk would take over, he could feel him watching out for them. He wondered what else he was safe to do with this woman who he was falling so hard for.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Summer babbled. “You feel so good. Make me come so hard.”

Bruce picked up his pace, pounding into her. Her core clenched and as it released an orgasm washed over her. She bit down into her shoulder, muffling her moan. Bruce kept thrusting into her and with a hard snap of his him he came. He held her for a moment as they both caught their breath.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” Summer laughed and Bruce slipped from within her and let her to her feet. She straightened herself out and dug through her backpack. She pulled out some tissues and handed them to Bruce. He took them and cleaned himself up, before wrapping the used condom into the tissues.

After straightening themselves out, they both vaulted back over the wall and headed back towards her place. Bruce tossed the tissues into the first trash can he passed.

Summer grabbed his hand and leaned against him. “Your new girlfriend puts out on the first date. What a skank.” She teased.

Bruce chuckled. “This was a date?”

“There was cake. We went for a walk. I’m counting it.”

Bruce pressed his lips to the top of her head. “She may be a skank, but she’s my skank. So you be nice to her.”

Summer stopped dead in her tracks and looked up at him. “I really like you, Bruce Banner.”

Bruce smiled as he looked down at the younger woman, and traced his finger down her nose. Maybe this was it for him. It wouldn’t be by the book, but by the book was never going to work. It was time to be brave and try something that made him actually feel good. “I really like you too, Summer Martin.”

// NEXT

#brucebannerbingo2019 #bruce banner #bruce banner x oc #hulk #hulk fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #she sets the city on fire #diving in

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apex-academy · 3 years

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Chapter 5: Caring Is a Hazard to Your Health (#17)

After a thrilling lecture and practice session, I’m released. Last chance to sweep the refreshments tables before the competition starts. Not sure how much I should trust the drinks at this party, but we’re only allowed to kill two people at a time, so. Wouldn’t be a good play to poison it. And drugging wouldn’t be any smarter. Don’t think anyone here would do that, anyway...

I chug a little lemonade and head back to the folding chairs. Apparently this game lets eight people play at once, so the gap between the seats and the screen is a wild tangle of crossed controller wires.

“All right!! Is everyone ready to go?”

After a few confirmations at various levels of enthusiasm, Aidan starts hitting buttons on his own controller.

“Okay! For the sake of those not used to the game, everyone please choose unique characters so we’ll have less trouble keeping track of who’s who!”

“I call Fox.”

Don’t know who that is, so sure.

By the time he’s brought up the selection screen and I’ve figured out which of eight tiny cursors is mine, someone’s already claimed the guy I practiced with, so I just drag the pointer around for a while. End up picking some knight-looking guy. Why not. As Aidan has so succinctly explained, there are plenty of differences, but I’m not interested in analyzing fifty characters just to play.

We have to wait a bit for Ichiriki to settle on a princess and Aidan to actually manage to select the guy he claimed—who does, in fact look like a fox, shocking—and then there’s some scene selection thing, I don’t know. Aidan takes care of it.

After a brief countdown from a deep voice that barely gives me time to figure out which tiny cluster of pixels is mine, the match begins.

“Wait, I’m an orb?”

Guess I should know how to manage those, but. Not what I thought I was getting. Okay. Well. It’s not like most of the others have any idea what they’re doing. Even Aidan is just spamming one attack.

“Oh, I see now!”

“You claimed this form because it uses a gun, yes?”

Though that was clearly aimed at Aidan, Mahavir drops his controller.

“What did you say?!”

“Hey, hey, hey!! Settle down! We’re just playing a game here!”

“And I did not invite you to this to be rude, Miss Tsunyasha!”

“Were you expecting her not to be?”

“Well.”

“I state my judgment whenever I please, whelp.”

“—!”

“Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear, thank you! Please return to the game!”

“Hmph. I do not follow demands, foolish creature.”

“It was clearly a request!!”

“...”

“Very well, I shall humor you just this once.”

“Do not get used to it.”

She settles back down and presses several buttons before realizing the game has been paused. With a final little “hmph,” Aidan hits a button and everything starts moving again.

And I do mean everything. Throwing eight players in with a bunch of different moves in a large area sure is something. We’ve got some pink-haired something beating people up with trees—from the cackling, I’m guessing that one’s Kanagi. The blue guy Mahavir was practicing with earlier is beating the crap out of some blue-haired anime girl, Ichiriki’s princess is throwing... turnips or something?—and apparently I also have bat wings, so. That’s nice, I guess. And then there’s some little pink thing that keeps wandering around and alternating between flinging itself off the edge of the stage and destroying everyone. And then there’s what I assume is the result of Kaichi finding a character in a swimsuit, though instead of fighting Kaichi’s just making him wriggle around and repeatedly say something too accented for me to decipher.

“Would you like to actually play the game, Mister Riseiin?”

“I got a guy and ’m hitting buttons. ‘m playing just fine, brah.”

“That...”

I watch as the blue-haired anime girl descends to start hacking the crap out of Kaichi’s guy. Kaichi just laughs and goes back to the wriggling thing the first chance he gets. His character is summarily thrown off the screen by the spinning pink thing.

You’re a genius radiologist and this is how you live your life. Okay.

I wasn’t paying attention to how many lives we have in this thing, but I’m pretty sure all of us are losing more wandering off the edges than actually fighting. It’s still an experience, I’ll give it that.

I survive to the final three before Kanagi kills my guy with a freaking axe.

“Thanks.”

At least she takes down Ichiriki’s after that. As the announce booms out a “GAME!”, she throws her controller to the floor.

“HECK yeah!”

“Please refrain from casually destroying the equipment.”

“What do I win?!”

“Y’ didn’t ask that first, brah?”

“Listen, dude, there are a lotta flashing lights in here and I got distracted.”

“Fair.”

“Well, first of all, we’re going to have more matches than just this one.”

“Mmm-kay. And then...”

“Oh, oh! Is it dorayaki?!”

Are you serious.

Aidan pauses and looks to Yuki.

“...Is it?”

“Hummmm...? Sure...”

Kanagi fist-pumps.

“I WILL TOTALLY DESTROY ALL OF YOU! KEKEKEKEN!”

Can’t you just ask for dorayaki at this point? Whatever.

“At any rate, good game, everyone! We’ll start the second round...”

“...”

“Aiiidaaaaan? You ‘kay?”

“Er, yes, excuse me.”

“We’ll start the second round shortly. Ah...” He looks to the game screen like he’s lost his place in a book. “You’re free to pick the same characters if you like, or you can switch! Still no doubles of a character, though.”

“And Miss Yuukei will still... be playing...”

“Er, so she could still block out competitors from advancing. The winners of the next three rounds will progress to the semifinals!”

Seems like a lot of playing, but I guess the matches aren’t that long. At least he’s not trying to announce them.

Though I’m not sure he’d be able to right now.

“Hummm... Are you sure you’re feeling okay, Aidan...? Do you need to go to bed early...?”

“I most certainly do not!”

“I, uh, just need a drink, I think.”

“I can bring a lemonade over...”

“If you would?”

He sets up for the next round so we can start picking out characters while that’s being taken care of. I guess I could try to steal Kanagi’s guy? Not feeling that cutthroat today. I’ll just be boring and stick with the... knight... blob. With wings. Yeah. It doesn’t look like most of us are switching, anyway.

Kaichi sure isn’t.

The next round takes place on a different stage that’s only slightly harder to keep walking off the edge of. But then half of it gets swallowed up by some kind of acid or something, so I wouldn’t call it better. I make it to second place but still lose to the pink thing, which is apparently Yuki’s. Next round.

Ichiriki wins that one, and then at the last chance, I somehow manage to make it in.

“Hmph.”

“Well, I hope you mortals are satisfied with your little imaginary battles in imaginary realms.”

“Right back at you.”

“I am, thank you!!”

“...”

Is she jealous? We’ll never know.

“All right! We’ll take a brief break before the next round.”

“I believe there’s plenty of popcorn left, so don’t be stingy with it!”

Chairs creak and controllers thump as we twist ourselves free from our gaming stances. Don’t know that I want more popcorn, but I could go for a drink. Didn’t keep an eye on my cup, so I grab a new one. Just water this time.

As I’m putting the pitcher back down, Yuki approaches.

“Did you want water?”

“Oh, I’m all right... Thank you.”

I step away from the drinks regardless.

“Hummmm... Is now a good time to ask...?”

What is this, an attempt to distract me from the game? She doesn’t seem the type. Also wouldn’t be much point in winning a prize she has to make herself.

“Might as well go ahead.”

“Okay...”

“I just wanted to know... if you still wanted lessons?”

“Less...?”

“...”

“Cooking lessons.”

“Umm-humm...”

“...........”

“I’m sure I could use them, but I don’t think I’d be able to focus.”

“Too busy thinking about the empty space beside me.”

“...........”

The silence doesn’t stretch out as long as it could before I hear slow footsteps.

“If I may?”

I would startle if I felt enough energy, but all I do is turn a little. Guess if I want a private conversation, I should get a little farther away from the punch bowl.

“Ah, Mahavir. Sorry.”

“It’s quite all right.”

“After all, I’m the one who seems to be eavesdropping here...”

“That’s okay...”

“But, ah...”

“If it would help, I may be interested in lessons as well?”

“But your cooking is already good...”

“Thank you? But I’m not used to working with the relatively few spices available here, and I could always stand to learn something.”

“Of course, there’s no need to hold formal lessons on my account. But I would be willing, if that works out well for you.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to private lessons, anyway...”

Are you serious.

“Um, thanks, Mahavir. I think that would really help.”

“Should we, uh, start tomorrow, then?”

Yuki nods.

“That would pose no issue to me.”

“Cool...”

I might not sound properly enthused, but I feel like this needs to stay a multiple-student class. Will Mahavir being there really help? I don’t know. Don’t think I’ll know until we get there. If it doesn’t, I can try to tough it out.

Maybe get someone else to enroll in the meantime.

Before we can make any more plans, a voice rings out over the din.

“Everyone!”

“The tournament will be resuming shortly! Those of us who have been eliminated are free to cheer on our friends or play one of the other games in here.”

“Preferably one that isn’t being used for a table.”

Well, Kanagi’s still in the running, so he probably doesn’t have to specify. Can’t hurt, though.

“I guess we should get back then, hummmm...”

“Yeah.”

“Best of luck.”

I nod and drink what water I can before heading for the game console. Time to keep the party going, I guess.

[BACK] [NEXT]

#apexplot #apex5 #fangan

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iwhumpyou · 4 years

Text

The Price (Part 7)

Masterlist. Wergild.

Taglist: @whumps-the-word

Part 6.

~#~

“And what exactly do you think you’re doing?” a dry voice asked, startling Mirai. She jumped and stumbled and managed to avoid falling flat on her face by grabbing the doorframe. It was a near thing, though, her sore muscles protesting the sudden movement.

Irina’s frown deepened.

“I was…going for a walk?” Mirai offered up lamely, wincing when Irina’s frown deepened.

“If you want to know how Nerali is doing, you could’ve just asked,” she said, with a slight twitch of her lips.

Mirai thought about acting offended, but she was too tired to bother.

“You can sit inside, you know,” Irina said, motioning to the doorway Mirai had been peering through, “I’m sure she would enjoy some company.” Then she promptly vanished before Mirai could voice any objections to that, mainly that she wasn’t sure if Nerali would enjoy her company.

(She wasn’t sure if she’d enjoy Nerali’s.)

She hobbled inside, though, maneuvering to sit and stretch her legs out in front of her. The spring water had healed her spine, had healed the poison, but the aftereffects took more time. There were still tremors from the poison working its way out of her, her muscles were still sore from nearly a week without use. Every once in a while they would abruptly fail her, sending her crumpling to the ground as her nerves blinked out and on again.

Those instances were becoming rarer now, though, and she could do a lap of the compound without any trouble. She had even run through a set of forms yesterday, out of Irina’s sight. Her only prescription was rest and time.

Mirai had never been good with rest and time.

It was the reason she ventured out when Jace announced he’d go to the talks. It was the reason she’d stalked through the woods, spoiling for a fight. And when she’d seen the girl from the rainbow tribe, trying to look more menacing than she was, it was the reason she’d slipped close.

She hadn’t intended to start a fight. Not a serious one. She knew how the dance went – she’d startle the newbie, they would spar, Mirai would pin her against the trunk and rile her up before leaving with a smirk.

(The expanse of soft, tanned skin and those perfect, plump lips had nothing to do with it, no matter how delectable she’d look underneath Mirai.)

She’d startled her alright. Mirai hadn’t fully realized what was happening until the impact with the ground, until all feeling cut out in half her body, until she raised a hand and stared at the blood dripping down.

Halfway back, being carried to the compound, the wound had started burning and Mirai had started screaming.

The diagnosis was clear. Even if they could somehow manage to heal her spine – which they couldn’t, not before the curse had been lifted – there was no cure for bluebell nectar. It was a slow, agonizing death and once Mirai had understood that, she nearly begged her brother to kill her.

She’d stopped, the words on her lips. It would break him.

She had honestly not given Nerali another thought, too focused on spending every last moment with her brother, focused on getting as much happiness as she could before she died. Both for her sake and for his because she might have accepted her fate but she didn’t want him to share it with her.

But then he’d left her side, his face a roiling sea of fury and Mirai’s weak cry couldn’t bring him back. He’d left and she heard screaming and felt sick to her stomach. The sound was agonizing, piercing, nearly unbearable.

Then it had stopped and the world started.

Mirai could barely understand how they lived before if this is what the world felt like. How had they subsided on scraps when this feast had been in front of them? The first sip of spring water had felt like a gift from the gods and her every breath was so rich it was decadent.

She’d broken the curse. Nerali had broken the curse and all of Mirai’s fear and rage and hatred, roiling away in the back of her mind, came rushing back.

Mirai had nearly died.

(Nerali had saved her. Had saved her clan.)

She had spent a week gasping out her life.

(Nerali’s screams. Mirai’s nightmares were haunted by those screams.)

The poison, the pain, the helplessness, the utter and incoherent rage that came from being hurt and powerless.

(Nerali was lying still, oh so still, her burned and broken hands stretched to either side and every rise and fall of her chest felt like a victory.)

Nerali had almost killed her. Nerali had broken the curse. Nerali had surrendered and offered her life for Mirai and when that was refused, she offered anything she could provide. She had taken a generation of pain and anger and poison – willingly, because the curse could only be broken by the willing.

She could only imagine the kind of spirit that took. To intentionally undergo torture to right your wrongs. And all of it for the sake of someone else’s dream.

It was that that killed her rage. She had pressed the cup to Nerali’s lips, she’d felt a curl of satisfaction when Nerali cringed away from her, clearly in pain, she’d wiped away the tears because Nerali could do nothing about it. Power over someone who had rendered you powerless was a rush and Mirai took it gladly.

And then Nerali explained and Mirai’s satisfaction was crushed by sheer disbelief. She couldn’t believe the woman she half thought of as an older sister could do something like that.

She couldn’t believe – but she could still hear Nerali screaming.

“Mirai?” She winced at the raspy voice, the throat that had still not recovered from the screams. Nerali was looking at her, brown eyes blinking open sleepily.

“Good morning,” Mirai smiled back. Nerali paused a moment, her face scrunched up, before returning the smile. It made Mirai’s breath catch in her throat.

Nerali was still beautiful, even tired and in pain. Her clothes hadn’t been exchanged in days and the odors only concealed by the incense in the room. Her hair was limp and stringy, sticking to her skin. From shoulder to fingertip, her arms were a mess, red and white and peeling wherever the bandages allowed a peek. But her smile still made something flutter in Mirai’s chest.

“I have some spring water,” Mirai said, levering herself up. Her change in position was not graceful and her steps were clumsy as she moved to Nerali’s side but Nerali’s smile didn’t change.

She let Mirai support her head and press the cup to her lips; she drank, utterly trusting in Mirai’s actions.

(Of course she was. What other choice did she have? She could barely move, she was surrounded by enemies of her clan, and she had already surrendered her life.)

Mirai hid her disquiet as Nerali finished the cup. She didn’t want Nerali to think that she was still a prisoner here. She didn’t want Nerali’s choices to be based in fear, in grace in defeat. She wanted Nerali’s choices to be her own.

She made a split-second decision. “Would you like to go for a walk?” she asked.

Nerali frowned, “I thought Jace said to stay.”

Mirai didn’t let her disappointment show. “In the compound, idiot,” she rolled her eyes, “It’s dangerous out in the forest, especially with the six clans meeting in one location. Even more dangerous when you can’t use your arms. And besides, the compound is on lockdown, no one can leave or enter until Jace gets back.”

Nerali blinked at her, “Oh. How long has it been?”

“A couple of days since Jace left,” Mirai let the silence drag but ended it when it was clear Nerali was not going to speak, “So? Walk? Yes or no?”

Nerali blinked at her again and studied her arms for a moment. “You’re sure it’s okay?” Nerali asked, and that was a step in the right direction, it was wariness, yes, but it was still a choice.

“Technically, until Jace gets back I’m the highest ranking member of this clan,” Mirai rolled her eyes (and froze, because that could be taken in a whole variety of ways and dammit, she was trying to ease Nerali’s worries, not add to them).

But Nerali laughed, soft chuckles as she grinned at Mirai, “Are you sure? I haven’t known him for very long, but I thought he wanted the compound still standing when he returned.”

Mirai couldn’t stop her answering grin, even as she pouted at Nerali, “That’s not fair. I haven’t done anything remotely destructive in about…” In about a week, when she started this whole things with restlessness in her bones.

Nerali’s smile slid off her face like water.

Mirai awkwardly rose to her feet, “So, that walk.”

Nerali shifted slightly, curling her legs beneath her. She frowned, “I don’t think I can pull myself up.” Mirai hobbled over to help her, because it was apparent that if she didn’t want to move her arms, the only way to raise upright was to have someone pull her up.

(Nerali’s waist, under just a thin tunic. Her face, pressed into her collarbones, her breath soft against her skin.)

Mirai stepped back, pretending intensely that her skin wasn’t as red as it looked and praying that Nerali didn’t notice. Nerali awkwardly rose from the sitting position, her legs wavering beneath her. Mirai noticed the strain and steadied her, an arm around her waist, before Nerali’s trembling legs collapsed.

“Here,” she said, keeping the arm on her waist and telling herself it was to make sure Nerali didn’t fall. “Are you good?”

Nerali tested her weight on one leg, then another. “I’m good,” she said softly, and Mirai retreated.

(Her arm burned with the impression of warmth.)

~#~

He was tired. Tired of trying to fit six different ideas into place. Tired of his every move being watched with suspicion. Tired of seeing grief and rage in equal measure on Clarissa’s face.

He thought it would serve her right, to give her a taste of what she had done. What would’ve happened, if fate hadn’t had other ideas. He thought it would be entertaining.

He never thought it would hurt this much. He never thought that his best friend viewing him as a murderer would hurt this much.

“Enough,” he said, his tone soft, “Let him go.”

Felix narrowed his eyes, not moving from his position. Aidan lay still in his grasp, his poisonous glare on Jace. Clarissa’s hands were ringed with fire. “Jace,” Felix said, his voice low.

“Felix,” Jace matched his tone, “Let him go.” Felix dropped Aidan, stepping back to Jace’s side with restrained movements, practically shouting his unhappiness. Aidan rolled back to his feet and stepped forward.

“Murderer,” he hissed, “You may be able to claim wergild, but the day will come when that no longer matters. And when that day comes, I’ll be waiting.”

“Doesn’t it ruin the surprise if you tell me now?” Jace asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Aidan,” Clarissa said sharply and he sullenly retreated to her side. She looked at Jace like he was a stranger, fury battling against a carefully polite mask. “Jace. I request that her body be returned to us. We can include it in our negotiations, if you like.”

Jace was so, so weary of this charade. He sighed, “Nerali is not dead.”

Clarissa didn’t blink. She spoke as if he hadn’t heard him, “I also want to know how you infiltrated our compound. As we will soon be allies, we should share information.”

“I didn’t infiltrate your compound.” But Clarissa didn’t want to listen to him anymore. Didn’t want to hear anything but an answer to her question.

Aidan was not similarly restrained. “Then where did you find her?” he sneered, “Out for a stroll in the woods?”

“No,” Jace said, because that was a question he could answer, “She came to me, as I told you numerous times before.”

Aidan scoffed and looked around in disbelief, “Why would she do that?”

“I don’t know,” Jace said, beginning to get annoyed, “Why don’t you figure it out?”

Aidan snarled immediately and only Clarissa’ flame-wreathed hand stopped his lunge. “Why don’t I just kill you now?” he settled for snapping.

“It’s the truth,” Jace said, hissing through clenched teeth, “She walked to my compound, knocked on my door, and offered her surrender on a silver plate.”

Clarissa flinched at that. “You’re lying,” she said quietly, “You were always good at that.”

“Nerali isn’t dead,” Jace said, and this time, Aidan’s expression flickered.

“Where is she?” Aidan asked, suspicion growing stronger.

“In my compound,” Jace said, and because Aidan looked like he was about to dash towards it, “The compound is on lockdown.”

“You’re lying,” Clarissa said again, “You said you killed her.”

“I said I accepted her wergild,” Jace pointed out, because he had been very careful with his words, “You were the one who jumped to conclusions about what it was.”

“You said she offered her surrender,” Clarissa said, still shaking her head, “Another lie. Why would Nerali ever do that?”

“I don’t know,” Jace said, and it was half the truth. He didn’t know, but he could certainly make a very educated guess.

“Nerali didn’t come to you at all,” Clarissa said, “You kidnapped her and now you’re concocting some story for your wergild to be valid since we’re ratifying the treaty. You kidnapped her and killed her and all I’m asking for is her body back.” There were tears in Clarissa’s eyes, “Please, Jace, if we were ever friends, please just give her back.”

Clarissa looked heartbroken and Jace felt guilt churning in his stomach. He’d put that look on her face.

“I – I surrender. As wergild. For your loss.”

Nerali screaming, fire burning from fingertip to shoulder. Mirai, gasping out her last breaths. That first gulp of spring water.

“What could you possibly give me?”

“Anything.”

“Why didn’t you protect her?” Jace asked, because it was a question he needed the answer to, “I would’ve brought down the moon for Mirai, why wouldn’t you do the same for Nerali?”

“What do you want, Jace?” Clarissa said, her voice hollow, “To rub it in my face that I couldn’t save her? Will that make you happy? Is that enough to satisfy your revenge? I don’t want to play these games. I just want her back.”

“You’re the reason she left,” Jace snarled, remembering the screams. Aidan scowled in protest. “Or don’t you remember?” Clarissa looked at him with polite confusion. “‘I loved Mirai like she was my own sister,’” he recited from memory, “‘I can imagine what Jace is going through.’” The color was beginning to drain from Clarissa’s face. He stepped closer and whispered, “‘And his rage will burn down the world if it’s not put out.’”

“Who told you that?” Clarissa asked. She was white.

“Who do you think,” Jace said, and it was not a question. “She surrendered to me. She was willing to die as wergild for Mirai. Willing to die to put out my rage. And who put that idea in her head in the first place?”

Aidan was looking at Clarissa like he’d never seen her before.

“Nerali is alive and she is safe in my compound,” Jace said, “But you don’t get her back, Clarissa. Not after you told her to die.”

~#~

Part 8.

#whump #whumpfic #wergild #arc: the price #emotional whump #miscommunication #reveal

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gustafsnightangel · 4 years

Text

On Pointe Chapter 2

She was stretched out alone on the floor when Gustaf came into the studio. A leg out either side of her and her chest flat to the floor. He glanced at her and felt his heart plummet. How the fuck was he going to get through this.

“Good morning.” He said quietly not really wanting to disturb her routine. He was less anxious today but still equally as nervous.

“Good morning. Ready?” She asked and sat up from the lateral split she was in and continued to stretch.

“As I’ll ever be.” He chuckled and slipped on the shoes Aidan had given him.

“Come and stretch out.” She said patting the floor in front of her. “Don’t dance cold. It will be the biggest mistake you’ll ever make.”

She looked at the arched eyebrow as he sat down and smiled.

“Believe me you only pull your groin muscle once to never ever want to do it again.” She said honestly. “And I have it on good authority that it’s worse for guys.”

“It is. Been there before, don’t plan to revisit it anytime soon.” He smiled shyly.

He folded himself up and sat across from her. They went through a group of warmup stretches at her instruction. He snuck glimpses of her as she stretched. The more he watched her move the more he wanted to get his hands on that petite frame and rock her world. And he tried desperately to wipe those thoughts from his head as he needed to focus.

“The first few lessons will be pretty mundane, but we have to get through them to get to the good stuff you’ll actually need.” She said and he felt his heart leap as she locked eyes with him. Stormy blue grey looked back.

“I’m in your hands.” He said and couldn’t help but smile at the shy smile she gave him at his comment. Did she feel the energy between them or was it just his wishful thinking and vivid imagination he thought?

Not yet you’re not she dreamed wistfully but give me time. Yeah right, like it’s going to happen, she thought bitterly. “Stand up.” She directed.

He did and had to stifle a groan looking down at the raven haired beauty sitting on the floor looking up at him.

“Did you read the books Aidan gave you?” She asked.

“Yes, I’ve been rereading them to stay focused.” He said. It also took his mind off of the gorgeous little thing at his feet.

“So first position.” She started and his feet tried to go to where they were supposed to illustrated in the book.

He felt her hands on top of his feet and then her thumbs indicate where he needed to move them to.

“Your weight should be evenly distributed.”

“That’s murder on your knees.” He said once she’d pushed his feet out.

“Rotate your pelvis if your knees are hurting.” She said.

“What do you mean?” He didn’t understand. This really was a new language.

“You’re currently leaned over looking at your feet. Spine straight, shoulders back, pelvis in.” She instructed and stood in one fluid motion.

She was so tiny compared to his towering frame, he thought, and had an air of fragility about her. She moved behind him and he felt those slender hands gently grip his shoulders. Her grip was gentle but he could feel the strength and power under it.

“These back.” She said softly and guided his shoulders so he wasn’t slumped. “And down.”

“Straighten your spine.” She ran a hand down the length of his spine resting it at his lower back. The muscle that kissed her fingers through his shirt sent thrills through her body.

Gustaf knew she was instructing but she had an erotic touch all the same.

“Pelvis should be aligned too, not tucked under, not sticking out. Once everything is where it should be your knees will feel better.”

“They do already.“ He said softly and didn’t want her hand to leave his lower back where it was resting.

“Now for arms, because you’re going to fall over otherwise.” She said. “Arms are your balance.”

She gripped him under the biceps near the elbow and urged him to lift them to where they needed to be. Her hands on his bare skin shot fire to his belly. That intensified as she moved to position his wrists, slender fingers spread over his as she positioned his hands.

“Think of it like you’re holding a beach ball. This will also help keep your shoulders where they need to be.” She said and gently swiped her and across them again and watched as he released them.

“Don’t tense.” She instructed and he had to consciously remind himself drop his shoulders.

“Dancing is mechanical, body mechanics. Things need to be aligned or held a certain way for it to work effectively. That’s something I can’t teach you in the time we have.” She said and came around to the front to face him. “Just trust me and know it’s done for a reason because it works.”

His gaze was intense she thought and those eyes held hers. He was not only soaking in everything she said he was pulling her in under his spell.

“Feel better?” She asked and he nodded not quite ready to trust his voice.

“Good.” She dropped to the floor and they went over second position. She needed to look down at his feet and not at those eyes that spoke so much.

“Second position is the same thing really but there’s more space between your heels. They should be hip width apart.”

She looked up to see him looking down at her, a slight smile on those lips she wanted to kiss.

“Stand up straight. Eyes front. If your eyes are down looking at your feet, you’ll fall down when we go to move.” She said and smiled when his head snapped up to look forward.

He contained the grin. She had caught him staring at her, and he found he didn’t give a shit. He wanted to look at her, wanted her to know he was looking at her, and he felt less anxious if he did.

“Ok relax.” She said and he took a step back.

She watched him bend his legs and shake the stiffness out at the newness of what his muscles had to learn.

“You’re going to feel this tomorrow.” She said gently. “If you have a tub in your room I suggest you soak in it each night for the next week or so.”

“Will it be that bad?” He asked, his voice was a low rumble which she found comforting.

She shrugged. “I don’t know it’s different for everyone. You’ll feel it in your lower back and hamstrings for sure. You’re using muscles in a different way so the body will rebel for a while until it gets used to it.”

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before tearing her eyes from his and continuing.

“Third, fourth, and fifth positions are harder.” She said and effortlessly went into third position.

“You made that look like a cake walk.” He chuckled stepping toward her.

“For me it is.” She smiled and bit her lip again. “But I have a few years on you.” In more ways than one she thought. Stop flirting she cursed inwardly he doesn’t see you that way.

“So, left foot toes that way.” She said pointing. “And right foot toes that way.” She said pointing in the opposite direction and then sat at his feet. “Ankle bones together.”

“There should be no gap between your feet.” She said and corrected him. She could feel him wobble. “Stand up straight, eyes front.” She smirked and heard his chastisement at himself for not remembering.

She stood and repositioned his arms and the wobble subsided.

“Wow.” He said quietly as the wobble stabilized.

“Arms are as important as feet.” She said gently.

“A great teacher is important too.” He broke out of the position and looked at her.

“You won’t be saying that tomorrow morning when you wake up and your legs ache.” She chuckled.

Problem was he was already aching. For her. But he thought best not to mention that on the first day.

“Fourth is similar.” She continued and sat at his feet once again.

“If this hurts too much tell me and we’ll ease you into it. This can hurt your knees and ankles a bit when you first start.”

“It’s fine for now.” He said and couldn’t help but look at her sitting there. Long slender legs stretched out either side of her, intent fingers resting on his feet. He felt his mind slip to fantasies of this gorgeous little thing kneeling before him as he took her.

“Go into third for me and hold it there.” He snapped out of it and did as she asked feeling her fingers on his feet correcting him again.

“Bring this foot forward slightly and to the left.” She guided him to where she wanted his foot.

“Take a look at where your feet are a moment.” She said and he looked down to see his front foot not quite aligned, and this tiny woman staring up at him. He had to stifle the groan.

“Your foot isn’t in line with the other one, see?” She pointed and moved slightly so he had a full view. “When it’s aligned with the back foot.” She pushed his front foot to where it needed to be, seeing the slight wince she backed off. “We call this turn out.” She let it go and his foot seemed to spring back to where it was originally without his consent.

“Stand up straight, eyes front.” She reminded him and he did as he was asked as she stood in front of him.

“Arms are here.” She said softly and moved them to where she wanted them.

She looked down and he almost had it.

“It’s almost there for someone starting as an adult. You only get good turn out if you’ve trained your joints from an early age, or you’re a freak of nature.” She said and heard the low chuckle.

“Which one are you?” His tone was one that turned her brain to mush.

“Both.” She breathed softly.

She could hear him breathe, smell the scent of him and almost went weak at the knees. The heat radiating off him made her want to curl up on his lap and snuggle the day away with those arms around her. She snapped out of it when he took a step back, not able to hold it any longer.

“We can try fifth but it may hurt.” She said composing herself.

Where did your mind go just now lovely lady he wondered? He saw her zone out for a moment then reign it in.

“How old were you when you stared?” He asked gently.

“Two. My mother was a dancer so it was destined for me I guess.” She shrugged.

“Fifth is fourth but feet together.” She continued as if he hadn’t asked the question. Painful memory there he thought.

He got into fourth and with a gentle nudge of her foot he was in fifth.

“Arms here.” She said quietly as she placed them where they needed to be.

She could feel his breath on the top of her head and secretly wished he would just wrap her in his arms. She liked the feel of them under her fingers and secretly wondered how they’d feel around her. He was fit and honed, strong but not buff strong like most stars did just for show. Defined, honed, he worked at it.

“Relax your shoulders.” She said softly.

“Sorry.” He muttered.

“Don’t worry, I still have to remind myself not to do that when I’m stressed.” She said still feeling the anxiety roll off him again in waves.

He held it for as long as he could before taking a step back and shaking his legs out.

“Walk a little. It’ll help.” She said and walked to the chair where her water was.

Aidan stuck his head in to see how things were going and then disappeared apparently happy with Everly’s report. Gustaf just sent him a happy smile and a wave. He was in good hands but she was right. He was going to feel this tomorrow. His knees were already starting to stiffen.

“Alright lets get to the good stuff.” She said and walked to the barre.

“This is your new best friend.” She said patting the barre. “Barre, Gustaf. Gustaf, Barre.” She smiled at his chuckle as she introduced the barre to him.

“You can death grip the barre and you won’t break anything. My fingers not so much. Also you’ll need more than a 100 pound weakling to support you and help you balance for the next few weeks.”

“This is where feet and arm positions and movement will come together.” She continued. “You learn it here first.” She said tapping the barre. “Then we move it out there.” She pointed to the vast openness of the dance floor.

“We’ll go though the basics with the feet positions we’ve learned today and see how we go.” She positioned his hand on the barre.

“Your hand should be lightly sitting on the barre as opposed to a death grip but if you’re going to over balance or fall, grip away.”

This was where it started to fall apart for him. The two left feet had decided to pay a visit, the anxiety that he’d kept in check decided to surface, and the self doubt he had overcome year ago clawed it’s way back to the surface.

She could see him struggle. It was a lot to take in on the first day but they had to hit it hard and fast. Six months wasn’t a long time to learn what he had to learn before filming.

She stopped when she saw his frustration with himself get the better of him. The anxiety starting to overwhelm him.

“Stop a moment.” She said gently and placed her hand over his at the barre. “Grab a drink, walk a little, come back when you’re ready to go again.”

His eyes snapped to hers as her touch startled him. He didn’t want her to let go. Her touch gave him a sense of calm.

“You can’t learn it all in a day Gustaf.” She said softly, reading him like a book. “Just like I can’t teach you thirty years of dancing in six months.”

“I feel a little stupid.” He chuckled nervously, his heart was pounding, he was only holding onto his composure by a thread. “Get a little frustrated with myself that I can’t do it.”

“You shouldn’t. Dancing at this level is like learning a new language. You have to learn the basics before you can do anything else. You’re not stupid, far from it actually, so you shouldn’t feel like you are. You’re doing fine.”

He nodded. He gripped the barre and leaned in closer to her.

“Thank you.” He murmured and softly kissed her temple and lingered a little too long. “The last thing I want to do is fuck this up.” And he meant it in more ways than one.

“I’ll be the first to tell you.” She said softly suddenly not quite sure of herself at his kiss.

He walked out to stretch his legs and have a bathroom break. What the fuck you idiot, he mouthed in the mirror in the men’s room. Had he just blown his chance with her? He paced the bathroom, anxiety flooding out of him, scrubbing his hands over his head. What the fuck was he thinking kissing her? He stared himself down in the mirror and mentally kicked his own ass at his stupidity.

He came back into the room around twenty minutes later to music and Everly in full solo. He sat and watched. The intense focus she had and the effortless movement captivated him.

He watched her feet and tried to pick the positions each time she landed or changed as she moved. Saw how she held her arms, the seamlessness of one movement into the other. She made it look as easy as breathing.

He watched as she fumbled, cursed, and picked it up after walking a few steps. He could watch her for hours.

His kiss had caught her off guard, dancing had helped clear her mind of it. She tried not to read too much into it, like the way his scruff tickled her skin, those lips so tender against hers. She stumbled on a step and cursed.

“Not helping.” She mumbled to herself hands on her hips. Picking up the bar in the music she started again.

It could have simply been a thank you for the break. The guy was stressed, nervous, and anxious all rolled in together and probably just needed some time to collect himself.

She would have to keep an eye on that and make sure he had regular breaks. She sometimes forgot that people weren’t like her and could go for the entire day without stopping.

Letting her mind run away with it wasn’t the best plan either. It was a simple thank you, nothing more she told herself. Don’t get your hopes up and your heart broken.

She stopped and from where he sat he could see she was barely out of breath. That calm control she had was incredible. Laser focus, control, no fear. Absolutely no fear.

“That was amazing.” He said gently.

“Oh sorry I didn’t realize you were back or I would have stopped.” She said and walked over to her water.

“I don’t mind. I know you probably have a million things to practice instead of teaching this fool how to not step on his own toes.” He said and went to stand near her.

“I can practice while I teach, in the breaks at least. Ready?” She asked keeping it short, not daring to make eye contact.

“Sure am.” Fuck he thought. He’d blown it.

“Ok so let’s stick with first and second positions for the rest of today. Once you feel comfortable with those we can move on.” She said.

She faced him so he could mirror what she was doing. He still got frustrated with himself, the anxiety had finally consumed him. At one point she stopped him again and let his brain catch up.

“Take a breath.” She said gently. “From here.” She said and placed her hand on his abdomen. Solid muscle greeted her.

He closed his eyes and looked to the ceiling for a few reasons. Her hand on his abs was the first, not getting a boner because her hand was on his abs the second, containing the panic attack was the third, and breathing to lessen the frustration of his feet not wanting to do as they were told was the last on his shopping list of emotions.

“Better?” She asked.

“Yep.” He said and breathed out slowly.

Her hand slipped away and he suddenly felt very alone.

“It’ll get better.” She said softly watching him. “First days are always hard.”

That’s not all that’s hard he thought.

“Yeah.” He sighed out.

“Let’s call it a day.” She said gently. “I think I’ve beaten you up enough.” She smirked and it got the chuckle she was after.

“Cool down.” She said and pointed to the floor.

They stretched out and he settled again. He just had to get his head around it all, dancing and his sudden feelings for her.

“See you tomorrow?” She asked as she stood.

“Of course.” He went to stand but she gestured him to stay on the floor.

“Stay and finish cooling down. I need to move and warm up for rehearsal.” She chuckled.

“Can I watch?” He asked and saw her hesitate.

“Sure. But it’s nothing special. No sit.” She laughed and waved him back down. “I’ll warm up around you.”

He watched in wonderment as she stretched at the barre. That lithe body bending and contorting in ways that made his head hurt. She had zoned him out, to her, he was just a body sitting on the floor.

She started the music from earlier and set herself. She had to get him out of her mind.

He saw the breath that calmed her, the one that settled her mind, and the one that set her focus. He would make it a point to ask her how she did that so quickly.

She danced around him and he was sure his mouth was gaping open. Graceful, beautiful, strong. The music changed and her hands rested at his shoulders as she continued. He straightened remembering to be strong for her to lean on.

“Relax.” She breathed in his ear as she did a full penche.

Her hand at his shoulder, her breath ticking his ear. She intoxicated him. Every word, every look, every touch.

The music changed again and she stopped.

“You’re incredible.” He said getting to his feet.

“Practice.” She said breathing heavy.

“You make it look so easy.” He said standing next to her.

“Practice.” She said again chuckling. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yes you will.” He said collecting his coat. “Thank you.” He said as she went to leave. “For keeping me focused, talking me off a ledge.” He looked at her and those grey eyes found his.

“That’s what I’m here for. You’ll be fine. First day remember.” She said gently. “I have to go. Tomorrow, same time.”

“I’ll be here.” He said and watched her go.

The following day he was warming up before she walked in. He wasn’t going to fuck up her schedule by being late. It was also the one thing Aidan had insisted on, don’t mess with the schedule.

He watched her enter in a whirl. She was running late and it had flustered her.

“I’m so sorry, our class ran over.” She said tossing her bag on the chair harshly and shucking her coat.

She grabbed her slippers and sat in front of him with a flop. He watched her jam her feet in them and hurry to lace them. Deft as her fingers were they were shaking slightly. He placed his hand over hers and she jolted looking at him.

“Take a breath.” He said softly returning the favor she’d given him yesterday. She blew a breath out and smiled. “It’s fine. Class is more important right now. I know you have a production coming up and this takes up time you don’t really have.”

“Still doesn’t make it right.” She said tying the knot in the ribbon and tucking the ends back in on themselves.

“Everly.” He said and she looked into those Nordic blue eyes and was lost. “It’s fine.” He squeezed her hand tenderly and let her finish getting her slippers on.

“Thank you.” She said quietly. “How are you feeling after yesterday?” She asked as he watched her deftly lace the other slipper. It was all muscle memory she’d done it enough times.

“A little stiff and sore but I’m good.” He said stretching out some more.

“The soak in the tub helped.” He chuckled and she nodded.

“Good.” She said and she stretched out.

He stood up and offered her a hand. She took it tentatively, his large hand enveloping hers. His touch sent an unexpected jolt through her.

“Shall we?” She smiled and started toward the barre. He gestured a hand to lead on. He was like no one else she had ever met. She didn’t quite know how to respond to him.

They went through most of the of what they had covered yesterday. He tried to keep his frustration down but after an hour of battling his own stupid feet he was tense and his anxiety had surfaced again. He tried breathing through it but it just wasn’t happening.

“Keep going.“ She said gently and she moved behind him.

He ground his teeth and kept going even though he was messing it all up.

“Breathe.” She said softly and her hand reached around and pressed where it had yesterday. “From here. To here.”

He shoved the erotic feelings aside and got his breathing under control focusing on her hand. That petite slender hand he wished would drift a little lower.

“Relax you’re shoulders.” Her hands moved to brush across his shoulders and down his arms taking all the tension with it.

“Straighten your spine.” Her hand ran the length of his spine and rested at the small of his back. He could feel the warmth of her palm through his shirt and it focused him.

“You’re doing fine.” She said and he snorted. “You are. Second day remember.”

He fumbled, stopped, and sighed. “I always forget that one.”

“Stop a moment.” She said, he did but she kept her hand where it was at the small of his back.

“Choreography is like a script. Arm and feet positions are it’s words.” She said quietly still behind him.

“How do you learn your script for a film?” She asked.

“By reading it, acting it out over and over again until it sticks.” He answered and saw where she was going with it.

“Dance is the same. Repetition. You learn where your feet and arms need to be, essentially what the words are in a script. Then you learn where they all connect together, to create you’re lines, then flow from one to the other to create your scenes. You can’t have one without the other and you can’t jump to scenes without learning your lines.”

“Start again.” She said softly and he started from the beginning.

“It takes time Gustaf. Dance takes a little more time to make it flow as well as words do from a script because you’re learning the alphabet again, be patient with yourself. You’re teaching your body something new.”

He kept going even through the mistakes. She corrected him as they went. Her hands guiding his arms, her feet occasionally moving his with her own. When she wasn’t correcting him her hand barely left his lower back.

As he progressed her corrections got less. He seemed to settle with her hand there. It grounded him, she grounded him.

“Better.” She said finally and her hand dropped away leaving him feeling suddenly very alone.

“Felt better.” He said honestly.

“Time and repetition.” She said and came to stand in front of him again.

“I’ll be doing them in my sleep.” He chuckled.

“I do.” She laughed.

“Well that’s understandable, you breathe it.” He smiled.

She shrugged. “Breathe it, eat it, sleep it.” She chuckled.

“Let’s look at third through fifth. We’ll go slow, they’re a little trickier.” She said and saw his shoulders rise as he tensed. She would deal with those in a moment.

They went through the sequence and he stood just trying to mirror her. He felt the frustration come and tried to will it away.

“Breathe.” She said softly. “One step at a time. Let’s break it down, third position.”

They went through it a dozen times then did fourth and fifth positions.

“Want to try the whole sequence again?” She asked.

“Yes.” He said and willed his limbs to cooperate.

He mirrored her again and after many missed steps and fumbles she stood behind him.

“Breathe from here.” Her hand rested on his abs.

“Relax you’re shoulders.” Her hands brushed across them and down his arms.

“Straighten your spine.” Her hand rested at the small of his back and he settled.

She saw a pattern developing. She’d use it to get him through this but damn it if she didn’t want to let her fingers roam. They ached to touch him.

By the end of their lesson he was sure of two things, he was almost through the sequence with minimal mistakes, and wanted this woman like his next breath.

“Really good. Want to try all five and see how you go?”

“Sure.” He shrugged.

She stayed where she was hoping the hand at his back helped. He took it really slowly but he got through with only a few mistakes and fumbles.

“Progress.” She said gently. “Forward progress. Feel good?” She asked.

“Yeah, feels good.” He smiled.

“For just two days you’re doing great.” She smiled at him.

“I have to confess.” He said leaning in slightly. “I have a really good teacher.” He whispered and winked at her.

“Well to be honest, you’re making it pretty easy for me.” She said and nearly melted at his feet when he winked at her.

“Good.” He nodded. “I’m still scared I’m going to crush your toes.” He mumbled and she chuckled.

“I have more of a chance at doing that to you than you do to me. I’ll explain more when we get to that.” She said at his quizzical look.

“Cool down.” She instructed. “How you feeling?” She asked as they sat.

“Not bad.”

“Soak again tonight.”

“Oh I will be.” He chuckled. “I try and do the same thing when we have weapons training.”

She nodded. “Dancing is a similar thing to swordplay when you think about it. And I should have put that together much earlier.” She smiled rolling her eyes at herself for not connecting the dots.

“Well shit I didn’t even think about that until now.” He laughed.

They stretched in silence for a moment. Until she rose to warm up and dance again.

“Can I stay?” He asked and fidgeted with his fingers in his lap.

“Sure of you want.” She said and moved to turn on the music. She smiled to herself and chewed on her bottom lip. This was a habit she could get used to, but wouldn’t. He’s not staying, she repeated in her head. Don’t get attached.

It was the same as yesterday and his eyes followed her intently drinking her in. He stayed seated hoping she would lean on him like yesterday. She did and his heart melted.

Those slender hands rested lightly on his shoulders and he felt her lean in as she executed the arabesque, her mouth dangerously close to his cheek. His heart tripped over itself when she was this close.

He was learning all the names for each move and would try to pick them out as she did them.

He smiled as the music changed and she stopped. He was hoping this would become a habit for her, for them.

“Same time tomorrow?” He asked and she nodded as she slammed down the water.

“I’ll try not to be late this time.” She said and smiled at him from under her lashes.

“I can always practice until you get here.” He said and stood.

“There’s always practice.” She said smiling and headed for the door. “Bye.”

He liked it when she smiled. It lit up her face and brightened his day.

“Bye.” He said and watched her disappear to rehearsal.

He wanted to go watch the rehearsal but thought it best to wait until they were in tech. He didn’t want to be a distraction and he wanted to ask her first.

#gustaf skarsgard #all the feels #On Pointe Ch 2

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

Lars and Aidan Caught

(An Anon requested a chapter from my original WIP that had Aidan/Lars, so here you go! Although it goes... dark places. This is a novel about demons, after all...

CW: Threatened noncon towards the end (doesn’t actually happen), some violence. Takes place in a fantasy universe, in a cult that has very homophobic tendencies and there is some use of in-world homophobic language)

The moon was a sliver of itself, leaving the world bathed in a more complete darkness than usual. Aidan stepped off the path northeast of town and instead walked through the woods, in no hurry, pretending to be taking an idle stroll.

The whole time, he placed each foot carefully to avoid sticks that might crack or leaves that might rustle as he passed, trying to keep one eye over his shoulder. No one was out this late at night, the point where it was nearly early morning. Guards at Petra’s Gate, maybe; maybe a Hunter or two around the perimeter.

They never met near either of those places, and sticking to the north part of town meant you’d see even fewer people, since everyone avoided the caves. Still, the tension in town every day meant it had been nearly three weeks since they’d been able to pass a message along, set up a time. Aidan couldn’t seem to stop second-guessing himself, looking over his shoulder with every step.

Something was going to happen, or… maybe it had happened already. Something he didn’t know about or understand. The air in Morlofte had changed. Aidan had been comfortable in this place, it was his entire life, but he was starting to feel nervous. The rules were changing, rules that had always been etched in stone were slipping away like sand.

The Singer held Gatherings with new fervor, sometimes three times a week, her eyes wide and white-rimmed and wild. She spoke about taking the word of the Mother out into the world itself, but… the message wasn’t the same. She wasn’t promoting peace. This wasn’t the sermons he was used to. He’d once all but rolled his eyes as they droned on and on. Now, he sat in rapt, horrified fascination.

The Singer told them to have faith in the coming storm. She spoke about opening the Gates like Morlofte was an army preparing to invade, rather than a peaceful town mostly made up of farmers. The people cheered, their eyes strangely empty while they applauded. She had started training everyone in town in combat, having the Guards walk them through the basics, claiming it was for ‘defense’.

Yesterday, Aidan and a couple of other Guards had been denied entrance into the caves, where Guards had always been the ones who came and went to take care of those in punishment. Now only the Elders and the Singer and her daughters went in there these days.

No one in punishment had been allowed to come out in weeks. On the other hand, crimes that had once been punished by time in the caves were either being ignored outright, or people were beaten. Sometimes openly, in the street. Aidan had been ordered to strike someone the other day.

Elder Brem said there was a new law, that the Singer had had a message from the Mother that they must become tougher, harder on the people. Prepare them to stay together even in times of great distress.

What distress? What were they planning?

People were frightened.

If the Singer suddenly didn’t want people in the caves, she had to be hiding something in there. It couldn’t be the runaway; Tyler Rykke’s existence was common knowledge by now. They were keeping people out of the caves, and at the same time, talking about opening the Gates. Even the hum of the fence, the gentle permanence that had never left Morlofte and had always sounded like comfort and reassurance to Aidan, had a jagged edge these days.

Something was different. Something was about to happen, and he didn’t want to be here whenever whatever it was occurred.

It was time for Aidan to leave, and he knew exactly who he wanted to take with him.

He went to their usual spot, a secluded clearing, barely the length of three men lying head-to-toe, alongside a small stream. Just enough rushing water sound to drown out their words if anyone came nearby, but not so much that they couldn’t hear the crashing sounds of anyone unused to the woods.

The clearing was empty when he got there, but that wasn’t unusual. Aidan settled himself into the shadow of a tree, trying to shake off his exhaustion. These after-midnight meetings were hard the next day. He’d have to try and sneak off for a nap at some point, if nobody seemed like they’d notice.

Everyone seemed to notice everything these days. Nobody talked about anything but surface things, but you could hear the fear in their voices, the worry. He knew even the younger ones were worried, too. Bram had taken to crawling into Aidan’s bed in the middle of the night, fourteen year old Bram, to ask him if they were about to be overrun by the world outside.

He wasn’t sure how to explain that they might be the ones gearing up to go out there themselves. He wasn’t sure if he should ask him to run away, too.

Aidan heard the sound of someone coming through the brush, and although he was pretty sure he knew who it was, he took another two silent steps back himself, until he was completely shrouded by shadow.

After a few moments, the person he’d been waiting for stepped into the clearing. With his eyes adjusted to the dark, Aidan could see every detail.

“Hello,” He said softly, stepping out of the shadow of the tree. “Missed you.”

“Hello yourself,” Lars Mikkelson replied, a smile playing across his face. He looked somehow leaner in the shadows and dim moonlight, wearing just a thin shirt and pants that could have been blue or gray or any color at all. The thin, silvery light washed everything out. They were all just grays, now.

There was a pause, while they just stared at each other. It occurred to Aidan that he’d never seen anything as beautiful as Lars in the middle in the night. He opened his mouth to tell him, realized how absolutely, atrociously awful it would sound if he tried to find the words, and closed his mouth again.

Finally, Aidan said, “C’mere,” in a voice that seemed caught somewhere in his throat. Lars crossed the length of the clearing in something slightly less than a run and they grabbed onto each other like drowning men, their kiss one that felt more like a need than affection.

When they finally broke apart, both gasped for air. Aidan ran a hand through Lars’s hair, as always a little caught off guard by how delicate he seemed. “You’re late,” He whispered, and kissed him again.

Lars laughed, more exhalations than sound. “I’m not. You were early.”

“It’s been weeks, Lars.”

“There was never a good time. We’ve been busy. Things have been…” Lars trailed off, and finally shook his head. “Healers have been needed more than ever these days. Plus, El has been watching me like a hawk. I had to make sure she was asleep before I could go. Let’s hope no one has a nightmare tonight and wakes up and she has to explain where I am again. She hates how often I go for ‘walks’. Plus, she says with things the way they are now..”

“She hates everything about you,” Aidan shrugged. “She always did.”

“No… she doesn’t hate me. She tried to make it work for a long time. I’m the problem, not her.” Lars looked away, off to the side, crossing his arms in front of him. “She’s hurt, Ade. I’ve been married to her for years and all I’ve ever done is hurt her.”

“You didn’t ask to be assigned to her.”

“She didn’t ask for me, either. Let’s stop talking about this. I don’t want to meet you with her right there behind me, telling me all the ways I’m evil this week. I want being with you to be just being with you.”

“I want that, too.” Aidan frowned, standing awkwardly for a moment before simply folding Lars into his arms. There were times it paid to be the taller man, and the feeling of the top of Lars’s head tucked just under his chin… it was something he thought about all the time, going through the motions of the rest of his life. It was all just biding time until there was this. “We’ve got to get out of here, Lars.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know what, but something is really, really wrong.”

“I know.” Lars pulled back, and Aidan for a moment regretted having said anything at all. Here, these times they met in secret, time sped by. The rest of his life, it stood still. He would have given anything to switch the two. “But where would we even go? You’ve heard what it’s like out there.”

“What we’ve been told it’s like out there. What if it’s better? What if they don’t want us to know because they’re afraid no one would ever stay?”

“Aidan… what if it it’s not better? What if we run, and we hide, and we find our way out there and it’s… worse?”

“I don’t think there are walls out there. If it’s worse, then we just keep going. We just go until we don’t see anyone, and we stop in that place, and we live for each other.”

“You can’t just live for someone else for forever,” Lars said, softly, but there was a smile in his voice that Aidan would have given anything to hear again.

“Watch me,” Aidan whispered, and kissed him again before he could say anything in reply. They folded into each other in away that was utterly natural. Their mouths opened to each other and Aidan thought there had never been anything so soft as Lars, as everything about him. The stream beside them burbled away, a squirrel took off with a crash in the branches above them. Aidan pulled back, just for a moment, just long enough to pull Lars’s shirt over his head, then his own.

“We can’t stay too long,” Lars said, his hands already going to undo the button on Aidan’s pants.

“How long is too long, exactly? I think I can take up exactly that much time.” He laughed, pushing Lars’s back up against a nearby tree, one hand sliding around behind the back of his head, the other finding its way further down.

“Shit-,” Lars gasped, and Aidan cut him off with another kiss. There was quiet, except for their shifting, the occasional gasp, the sound of their mouths together. Aidan pulled back, looking at the shadows sliding around and over the other man’s face. “By the Far God, you’re pretty,” He said. His voice was hoarse with desire.

Lars blinked at him, startled by the casual heresy, but he put his hands up to Aidan’s face. “Oh, Ade. I-”

There was a sudden loud crash in the bushes off the way they had come, the sound of someone cursing. Aidan felt a cold wave of fear wash from head to toe, undoing every ounce of warmth that he’d had a moment earlier. He pushed himself away from Lars, trying to do his pants back up over the very obvious bulge trying to make itself known. “Shit.”

Found us. For nearly three years they’d been meeting like this. Three years, in different places, always after midnight. For three years no one had ever suspected a thing.

“Oh, Mother,” Lars whispered. Even in the darkness, his face had gone a sickly chalky white. “Oh no. Oh no.”

“Lars, get out of here,” Aidan snapped. “Just run. I’ll keep them busy. Maybe it’s just Eldaway. Maybe she followed you.”

“Eldaway already hates you enough, and that cursing was a man’s voice,” Lars said, but the humor didn’t quite land. His eyes flickered, panicked, back and forth between the source of the sound and Aidan’s face. “Ade, they’ll know we-... they’ll hurt you-”

“Not your problem. Go.”

The crashing was louder. It was definitely more than one person, Aidan thought. He tried to calm himself. Lars just stood there, like a deer staring down an arrow headed right for it. “I said go!”

Lars looked back at him once more, nodded, and took off. He ran barefoot through the cold streamwater. Smart; one way to not leave a trail right off the bat. Aidan swept his sword up into his hand and spun around just as three Guards stepped out of the trees into the clearing. That had been close. How much had they seen?

“Who was that? Get him!” One yelled at the others. Ben, Aidan thought. That was Ben. One of those the Singer trusted to leave with Traders, to go out into the world. Aidan hadn’t spent years afraid of this exact moment for nothing. Aidan raised his sword and stepped into the path of the one who had moved to follow Lars, smiling.

“That’s not necessary. I think you’ll have your hands full with me,” He said smoothly. His heart pounded with panic, but none of it showed on his face. At least he hoped it didn’t. Run, Lars. Run fast.

“Looks like you’ve had your hands full enough tonight, flit.” Ben’s lip curled with disgust. “What else you been filling?”

“Oh, do you need me to show you how it works?” Aidan raised an eyebrow. “I give lessons, you know. I’m very talented.” The rage was building in their expressions, rage and disgust. If he made them angry enough they’d forget Lars entirely, focus on him. Aidan knew he should feel ashamed but all he could think about was Lars, racing barefoot through the woods, putting as much distance between them as he could before they realized Aidan was pissing them off on purpose.

“Shut up, slagpile. You’ll be damned for that, you know. For… that.” The man gestured to the spot where Aidan and Lars’s shirts were in a pile together on the ground, near their shoes. “We saw it was a man, Garnes. You’re well and truly fucked, now.”

“No, that’s what I was about to be before you showed up to join the fun, Benny.”

“Shut up and surrender, degenerate,” another guard said, spitting to the side. “Tell us who you were with. It doesn’t have to go down like this.”

“I’m sorry, Eli,” Aidan said sincerely, setting his feet into the dirt with one slightly angled in front of the other, trying to keep his eyes on all of them at once. His body moved into a low, defensive posture fluidly, instinctively. “It doesn’t matter who I was with.”

“Shit,” the third Guard said, nervously. “I don’t want to fight Aidan. I’ve seen him practice.”

“Coward,” Ben spat. “Flits can’t fight.”

“Most of them, maybe,” Eli shrugged. “We know Aidan can. You don’t get to be Elder Brem’s favorite without being able to handle a sword, Ben.”

“This piece of shit handles more than swords,” Ben said, rolling his eyes. There was something off about them, Ben’s gaze seemed wrong somehow, but it was too dark for Aidan to tell exactly what it was. “Take him down. We’ll find out soon enough who he’s been rutting with like an animal out here in the woods.”

“I’ll have you know I rut like a man,” Aidan said smoothly. “With other men.”

The distraction had worked. Ben roared and ran at him. The other two swung out to the side to try and get at his weak spots. Not one of them even looked in the direction Lars had gone.

Ben swung first, and their swords met with an ugly clang. Then Eli from the side, and Aidan just barely met his blow, ducked under the third guard’s first attempt. By then, Ben was already trying again. Aidan couldn’t last. It was three on one.

But he gave it a good fucking try, that was for sure.

It was Eli who got the first good cut in, a few moments later. Aidan spun away as blood dripped down his side, hissing at the hot flash of pain. That’d slow him down, and from the relief that flashed across their faces, they knew it. He tried to back up, dancing lightly away, but they kept pressing him in. A few more cuts, shallow, but they hurt like hell. The circle of trees seemed like bars on a cage, now. He just had to buy Lars some more time.

Just buy him some more time-

Ben stuck his foot out. Aidan, distracted trying to defend against Eli, managed to trip right into it and fell. His head smacked against a tree trunk.

His grip on his sword went suddenly slack, and Eli kicked it away. It skidded across the clearing, too far for him to reach.

Blade to his neck, less than an inch away. “Hold still, flit.” Throbbing skull. Something felt like it had broken in his mind. Breathing hard, Aidan held still.

Ben grinned down at him, sweaty enough that Aidan could see the sheen on his forehead and cheeks even in the night. Too sweaty. Why? The fight hadn’t been that long. It was still cold out here at night, still spring. “You’re bleeding in four places, Garnes. It’s over. Put your hands up. You’re under arrest for the pursuit of unlawful carnal knowledge.”

Aidan turned his palms out, hands up, sitting slowly up with the sword to his neck the whole time. He was sweating, too, or bleeding from his head where he’d hit it. Something wet was running down his face, in any case. “Fine. Take me back to town, then.”

“Not just yet.” The other two looked, confused at Ben, who just smiled down at Aidan. The smile stretched too wide, was held for too long. Aidan shuddered. “Who knew Aidan Garnes was degenerate, this whole damn time? Who’d have guessed it?”

“Well, I knew,” Aidan said helpfully, but his voice was weaker than it had been before. The air felt heavy and Aidan, for once, was afraid.

“Shut up.” Ben looked back at the other two, that smile still lingering in his expression. There was an empty hate in his eyes, something else roiling underneath. The faces of the congregation at the end of the Singer’s sermons, when she talked about the evils of the world outside, how the Mother would cleanse them all. “You were spotted leaving town, when we’re all on curfew these days. Now we know why. The Singer’s going to be so angry,” Ben said, with something like delight in his voice at the thought. Something perverse. “They’re going to kill you.”

Something had changed, in the air. Something was making people worse. Ben was being worse. He could see the surprise and uncertainty in Eli’s face, the unhappy looks he exchanged with the third guard, their confusion.

“So who were you with, Garnes? Tell us the truth, and we’ll go easy on you. Maybe you get to live. Turn him in. Let us know what other flit’s been seducing you. Maybe it wasn’t your fault, eh? Maybe someone else made you do it?”

“No one seduced me,” Aidan snorted. He blinked as red filtered into his vision in his left eye. Definitely bleeding from the head, then. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Doesn’t it? Guess I wouldn’t know. I waited for my wife, like the Singer said.”

Even Eli couldn’t pretend to believe that one, he and the other guard exchanged a baffled look. Aidan laughed out loud. “Oh, please. You went to the hayloft with Aisha when we were fourteen.”

Ben frowned, eyes narrowing. It’s in his eyes. What is wrong with his eyes? “At least I went with a girl.”

By now, Aidan knew Lars had to be far enough away that he’d stopped running. Maybe take a second to catch his breath. Walk back into town a different way, explain to Eldaway if she was up that he’d gone swimming or something-

“You’re really not going to tell us who you were with?”

Aidan spat on the ground, right at Ben’s feet. “I’d rather die.”

That slow, sick smile spread across Ben’s face again. Something is making people worse in Morlofte. What is it? What changed? I’ve never seen this face on him before. From the look on Eli’s face, neither had he. Something had changed in Morlofte.

Why isn’t it changing everyone?

“Let’s get him back to the Singer, Ben,” Eli said, in nearly a whisper, his own eyes suddenly wide, ringed with white. That was when it occurred to Aidan what was wrong with Ben. The thing that he hadn’t been able to figure out.

Ben’s were totally black. He had no whites in his eyes.

“You like men so much, Garnes?” Ben laughed. It was a low, throaty laugh. Lars laughed that way, sometimes, when they were out here in the woods. From Ben, it was the worst sound Aidan had ever heard. “Let’s find out just how much.”

“What?” Aidan’s lips were numb. “No.”

The sword moved away from Aidan’s neck, just a little. “You don’t get to say no. Get up on your knees.” One of Ben’s hands dropped, starting to undo his own pants.

“Ben, what the hell?” Eli sounded frightened, suddenly. “Stop.”

“I said on your knees, flit,” Ben said, flatly, ignoring him. There was another voice behind his. Something darker, an echo. Something almost liquid.

Survive, Aidan. No matter what you have to do.

Aidan felt his heart pound as he nodded, silently, and slowly pushed himself up onto his knees. He couldn’t think of any witty retort. He couldn’t think of any words at all.

“Ben.” That was Eli, but he sounded far away, and weak. Aidan could barely hear him. “You can’t do this. This isn’t right.”

His hands hung like dead weights at his sides. He tried to lift them, to push Ben away, but nothing happened. The air felt like it was pressing in, he could barely breathe. It was like having some massive stone laid atop his chest, only it was everywhere, all around him. The pendant at his neck burned and burned and burned.

“You’re going to do what I tell you,” Ben said. The other voice, syrupy black, twisted and writhed around his. “Or we’ll tell the Singer we found a corpse.”

“Ben, listen-” Ben turned his black stare on Eli and the other man closed his mouth, almost with a snap.

“Did you hear me, slag?” Ben turned back to Aidan. The point of the knife pricked the side of his throat, and he felt a trickle of blood run down. “You’ll do what I say. You don’t get to say no.”

“I heard you, Ben.” He had to run. To stand up. To get away. But the weight pressed in every side and Aidan, who spent hours every day practicing combat, who had been first through the fence after Tyler Rykke, was frozen with fear. “I heard you.”

“Good.” That awful laugh again.

“What’s wrong with him?” Eli asked the other guard, the one Aidan didn’t know. The other guard just shook his head. Both of them looked like any second they would step forward and end this, but they just didn’t. They just stood there. Like they couldn’t look away.

“Help me,” Aidan whispered. “Help me, Eli, please-”

“Shut up,” Ben growled. There was a shadow behind Ben, the shape of someone else, something darker than all the other shadows in the woods. There was no moon, no sliver of light found its way inside that darkness. There is someone making him do this. This is magic. Aidan, staring upwards as Ben moved towards him, thought he could hear a woman’s laughter, a sound like something rotten bursting open to let all the awful inside out.

Ben grinned, a sickly smile. Behind his face Aidan could see another one, wide black eyes that watched him, a shifting of skin. He could nearly see its expression, some horrible joy slipping in and out of the hateful desire in Ben’s. “Do this right and I won’t make you do it again with no teeth.”

Aidan, frozen, only nodded again. Ben put a hand on top of Aidan’s head and began to force it forward.

“Wait.” The pressure around them began to lift. Eli moved, finally breaking from his paralysis, reaching out and grabbing Ben by one arm. “Ben, stop it! Just stop!”

Ben jumped and looked over at him, and it was like a spell had broken. The face behind his was gone. The shadow seemed to slither downward and then disappear, a sense of anger in the air in its wake. “What?”

“Ben, what the fuck are you doing?”

Suddenly, he was Ben. The Ben Aidan had worked next to for years, the one who chased after girls but never meant any harm by it, the one who had spoken dreamily about becoming a father one day.

Ben blinked rapidly, his eyes their perfectly normal mix of white and brown, and shook himself like a dog after rain. “What did I-... Oh, shit, what did I do-” He growled, stumbling backwards. His face burned bright red as he redid his pants and then kicked Aidan in the stomach with a force that sent him onto his back onto the ground, coughing. “Ugh. What the fuck just happened to me? It’s… it’s his fault somehow.” Ben kicked Aidan one more time for good measure, and something snapped in his ribs. “Let’s take him to the Singer and tell her what happened. She’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. She’ll… tell us what to do.” Ben’s voice shook, a little. Behind all his bluster and anger he looked terrified. “She’ll tell us what happens next.”

Eli and the third guard nodded, still staring at Ben as though they’d seen a ghost. They slowly moved forward, Eli unhooking the irons from his belt. It was the third guard who dragged Aidan’s hands behind his back and he didn’t even fight, staring still up at Ben, wondering what the fuck he had just seen.

Why had he frozen? He’d never frozen when threatened before. But no one had ever threatened him like that...

Something is wrong in Morlofte. Something is making people change.

The irons clicked onto his wrists, locked tight with the turn-click sound of the key. Ben held his hand out for it and Eli hesitated, then finally nodded and handed it over. “Let’s get him back to her fast,” Eli said, softly, and Aidan found himself nodding, quickly.

“Yes, absolutely, get me back to her fast.”

“Shut up,” Ben snapped. “Don’t make me do that again.” Aidan legitimately couldn’t tell if it was a threat or a plea.

His stomach ached, his cuts burned, and as they pushed him forwards through the woods he realized he must have twisted something in his leg when he’d tripped, as it began to throb as well. Eli and the other guard held him by the arms, thank the Mother, while Ben walked several feet ahead.

They’d been walking for a few seconds, Ben so far ahead they almost didn’t see him through the trees, when the third guard whispered. “What happened back there?”

“I don’t know,” Eli said, frightened. “I don’t know. Ben doesn’t… Ben isn’t a degenerate. He’s never been… he asked the Singer for a marriage assignment last week!”

There was a pause. “Maybe the flit did it,” The third guard said.

Aidan didn’t dare look at either of them. He kept his eyes on the ground, trying to look beaten. It wasn’t exactly hard, since he was bleeding in more places than he could count on one finger at this point.

“I don’t think the flit did it,” Eli replied finally. “He was too frightened. I saw… something else. I’ve seen a lot of something else lately.”

“Yeah. Me too. May the Mother keep us safe. We should tell the Singer about the shadow. About all the shadows.”

“Agreed. Even if Ben doesn’t, we have to tell her. And we don’t let Ben alone with him again. Just… just in case. It happens again. Whatever it was. I just don’t think the flit did it.”

“I didn’t, for the record.” The third guard smacked the back of his head. Aidan thought of the sheer volume of times he had hit someone to shut them up and honestly, the simple irony of it was kind of funny. He had to bite back a smile. Luckily, neither of them was looking.

“Let’s take him straight to her, don’t stop at the caves. Singer first.”

“Definitely agreed.”

If it was a choice between whatever had been in Ben’s eyes, trapped alone in a prison cell with the shadow that had turned Ben into someone else, and going to see the Singer, Aidan would pick the Singer any day. At least she’d just order his head cut off.

He tried not to think about the woods, as they came out of the forest and were back on the path heading towards town. It was late at night, nobody was awake but the usual patrols.

This was his second-worst fucking nightmare. But it wasn’t the worst.

Get home safe, Lars.

Goodbye.

I love you.

#original fiction #fear not the novel #aidan garnes #lars mikkelsen #tw: violence #tw: homophobic language

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