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aquafaith · 3 years

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My lengthy, angry ACOSF rant review.

Spoilers, TW for mental, emotional, physical, and sexual abuse.

I loved ACOTAR. I still love ACOTAR. I always will love ACOTAR. But every book afterwards made me give up more and more. ACOMAF romanticized an abusive relationship and assassinated characters for the author's convenience. ACOWAR was a bunch of boring and inconsequential death scares. ACOFAS was all-round dreadful. And each book kept shitting on and pushing away Lucien for no reason.

I'd like to preface this by saying I hated Nesta too. I hated the way she treated Feyre in ACOTAR especially, and I wasn't even too excited for this book because I wasn't that keen on Nesta as a character.

Nesta's POV and her backstory changed my perspective. It does not excuse her actions. All Nesta stans can hold these characters accountable for what they do - trauma is a reason, not an excuse. I, and many others, sided with Nesta because of the way she's treated by everyone else in this book. Also, if you're going to hate Nesta for not teaching Feyre how to read and letting her hunt at fourteen, (which I did, and are very valid things to hate), AT LEAST hold Elain accountable too.

This book. This fucking book.

Shall we start with the intervention? Feyre on her little power trip thinks that her boyfriend that hates Nesta and Nesta hates back, Nesta's ex-best friend, and her possible mate who she never talks to should be at this stupid fucking intervention??? Excuse me???

Remember in ACOMAF when Feyre wouldn't shut up about how rich Rhysand is? Feyre literally has four or five houses and is always talking about how much jewelry and lingerie she can afford because Rhysand is so rich??? Well, Nesta has a few shots. So you know what Feyre does? Humiliates Nesta at this "intervention", TEARS DOWN HER HOME, and forces her to go to the Illyrian training camp.

That was the god awful premise for this book.

Did you think Elain wasn't there because she was against the "intervention"? Nope! She was packing Nesta's belongings without permission.

Remember in ACOMAF when it's made a big fucking deal that locking up a traumatised woman is extremely damaging? Well, when Nesta decides she doesn't want to be in Illyria, Feyre locks her in the House of Wind. Nesta can't fly, so her only way of leaving is down the TEN THOUSAND STEPS, that Feyre KNOWS Nesta isn't capable of climbing.

Feyre's pregnant. In ACOFAS she randomly decided that she wanted a baby to remember Rhysand by if he dies. Which doesn't make any sense because they made that stupid fucking death pact in ACOWAR. It's just SJM superimposing her pregnancy onto her early 20's protagonist. Ignoring the fact that Feyre isn't ready for a baby and Rhysand CERTAINLY isn't, and with a war just ended and another looming and so much trauma and a DEATH PACT are all such horrible circumstances to bring a child into, Feyre is already pregnant. Remember when SJM made a big deal about Fae babies being so hard to conceive, and Feyre said in ACOFAS they wouldn't have to worry for a long time because it can take years to conceive your first Fae child? Well it's been no more than 3 or 4 months and Feyre's already pregnant. Yep.

Also the birth will kill her. Because of course it will. Rhysand KNEW this, and still agreed to try for a baby.

There's no solution. Abortions don't exist for some stupid reason, and a C section would apparently kill Feyre?

(Wasn't this book supposed to be about Nessian?)

In ACOWAR, Cassian was on the battlefield with his entrails around his knees. Someone had to literally hold his guts in for him, and he's fine, but you're telling me a C section would kill Feyre?

Don't worry, this is just setting up the AWFUL ending to this book.

ACOSF amounts to Nesta being gaslit into believing her abusers are right. Her friends and family slut shame her and shame her for her lifestyle constantly. Cassian says it took him decades to work through some of his trauma, and he tried to drink and fuck it away too, but suddenly when Nesta does so it's heinous? Nesta's barely twenty five and she's expected to cope better than these ancient immortals.

Hell, didn't SJM write ACOMAF? Nobody expected Feyre to pick herself up so quickly. The IC (excluding Rhysand) respected her boundaries for the most part and understood when it was grief, trauma, and turmoil that made her angry, sad, want to be left alone, etc. But that's all forgotten here.

Amren also compares Nesta to the people in, and says she belongs in, The Court of Nightmares. You know, the murderers, abusers and rapists? This innocent woman who had a few shots and a bit of sex is on par with them, apparently!

The sex scenes.

SJM is scared to say vagina so she says sex.

She says seed to mean semen.

Apparently the word cunt turns SJM on. I just found Cassian saying that kinda cringe because I'm Bri'ish so the word cunt really isn't a big deal.

Back to the baby killing Feyre, because this is definitely what we all wanted from this book as indicated by the change in covers and format and title... Rhysand decides not to tell Feyre. He tells her friends and family, and tells them not to tell her.

SJM loves sweeping Rhysand's abuse from the first book under the rug and claiming it's always about Feyre's choice... where is that here, MAAS? WHERE IS IT?

Anyway, when Nesta rightfully decides to tell Feyre (although it is kind of out of spite), Rhysand threatens to kill Nesta.

And I believed him. With the way he treats his """mAtE tHaT hE lOvEs sO mUcH""" and all the people he's mindlessly killed before, do you really think he wouldn't kill the person who gave Feyre an inch of autonomy?

So what does Cassian do? His lover who he cares deeply about and suspects is his mate has received a death threat from tHe mOsT pOwErFuL hIgH lORd iN hIsToRy.

Cassian simply gets Nesta out of the court.

EXCUSE ME?

He doesn't breathe ONE word to Rhysand about this. This Illyrian WARRIOR who fought with his GUTS HANGING OUT didn't dare step up to the hIGh lOrD who he considers his brother and sparrs and fights with all the time?

Cassian literally does nothing.

Was it not Rhysand himself who said Mated males are dangerous? Can kill anyone who looks at their mate? Can be dangerous simply leaving the house? Rhys and Feyre both pull the Mate card to justify their bad actions on the other's behalf... and Cassian just tried to get Nesta out of the court?

Also, this High King bullshit.

I swear to fucking god, if SJM DARES to make this abusive, power-tripping, mOsT pOwErFuL hIgH lOrD eVEr, husband-insert of hers hIgH kInG, I will fight her in the street.

My beloved Lucien is in this book. Only for him to be used and shat on.

I really liked it when he calmed Cassian down with just a look though. Yes please fox man.

Helion is also in this book. Nothing to do with Lucien.

Eris is also in this book. ERIS. Lucien's eldest brother. The same one who abused him for years, but according to SJM he's slightly better, because at least he didn't agree to kill Lucien's lover. He betrayed his daddy that one time, therefore Eris is good. Y'know, the same Eris who abused Mor? Left her laying on the Autumn Court border with a nail in her womb? Well SJM is going back on her own canon to redeem yet ANOTHER abusive male, while continuing to demonize Tamlin for things he only happened to do when SJM decided the villain from the first book was sexy.

Nesta and Cassian are Mates.

Remember when Mates were supposed to be a rare and sacred thing? Now SJM dishes them out like Oprah.

I don't want these characters to be mates. I want to see them slowly fall in love. But SJM is incapable of writing that so she forces them together with the mAtInG bOnD. That's literally the only basis for most of these relationships, Feysand especially.

The only relationship where the bond would make sense is between Helion and The Lady of Autumn. Who still isn't named. But I will die on the hill that they're mates, I can feel it between them.

I wanted someone to die in this book. I predicted that it would either be Helion or Tarquin, but Tarquin isn't even in this one.

And the ending.

SJM can't write a decent climax, so she kills both Feyre and Rhysand for the second time. Yep.

The baby is being born which stupidly kills Feyre, and thankfully takes Rhysand with them.

Nesta decides to save them. Bad choice. But she decides to save them! Because she's so powerful and she ATE THE CONTENTS OF THE CAULDRON and she's CONNECTED TO THE MOTHER.

Do you know what happens.

Nesta loses her powers.

NESTA.

LOSES.

HER.

POWERS.

The powers we've hardly seen, the powers that were briefly mentioned and used ONCE in ACOWAR, then we saw like two flashes of in this book? They're GONE now. GONE SO NESTA CAN SAVE HER ABUSIVE SISTER AND ABUSIVE HUSBAND WHO ABUSES THEM BOTH.

Nesta is just an Amren now. They both fought for their powers, and had to give them up to save people who didn't deserve it. Now they're anticlimactically trapped in powerless bodies.

Also, and I can't BELIEVE I didn't originally include this - do you know what else Nesta TRADED HER POWERS FOR?

Illyrian anatomy so she can carry Cassian's baby one day.

EXCUSE ME?

I am so fucking SICK TO DEATH of the narrative that every woman needs a man and children to be happy. SJM clearly loves this because she's literally only keeping Amren and Nesta alive now to be sex objects to their partners and nothing else seeing as their POWERS WERE RIPPED AWAY FROM THEM, and now NESTA TRADED THOSE POWERS TO HAVE A BABY SHE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW SHE WANTS? Nesta does NOT strike me as a motherly type. She's the wine aunt, she and Cassian are the couple that go on holiday a lot and and babysit their nieces and nephews, but nope. Nesta HAS to have children.

The Feysand baby is called Nyx. That's just so underwhelming, you go from these huge, multiple syllable names like Amarantha and Morrigan and Lucien to Nyx? I get it's supposed to be unique but it's not even meaningful. It's just more shit-flavoured icing on the hAHa nIgHt uWu cake. I prefer Renesmée.

Nesta is wrong somehow. She says she's sorry as she's saving them. FOR WHAT? For being a little rude to Feyre as all sisters are? And rightfully hating your sister's abuser?

Oh yeah, remember in ACOWAR when Nesta took care of a comatose, starving Elain for months? Elain is randomly okay now because she takes care of her mental health the stereotypical way of baking cakes, and not drinking and fucking, which she shames Netsa for.

Remember the slut shaming, demeaning comments that the whole iNnEr cIrClE made about Nesta? They all expect apologies from her. For some reason.

Nesta has done nothing wrong. She coped with her trauma and minded her business in her own ways, and she's expected to apologise to the people who control and emotionally abuse her.

Nothing that any of these characters did to Nesta is right. Nesta wasn't okay at the end, this wasn't Nesta's healing story. This is Nesta being shamed and degraded until she submits.

Oh I can't believe I forgot to write this in my first draft of this review, do you know how Nesta "overcomes" her grief about her Father's death and her conflicting feelings about him and his life and her guilt? When she visits his grave for the first time, she takes Nyx.

NYX.

She holds NYX up to the grave and talks about how it's his grandson.

GO AWAY YOU STUPID DEMON BABY THIS IS NOT YOUR BOOK.

Speaking of, it's revealed that Nesta was abused by her mother and grandmother in this book? Something we were all looking forward to is seeing more of the Archeron's mother seeing as Feyre was so young when she died, but... nope. She gets a few vague mentions, and this newly revealed abuse is entirely glossed over. Nesta was also actively groomed by an older man at 14. But SJM glosses over this because of course she does.

Finally, the bonus chapters.

My edition came with a bonus chapter from Feyre's POV. It was pointless and I hated it.

There's another bonus chapter from Azriel's POV. Once I'd finished this book, he was one of the few characters I still harboured a shred of respect for.

Then I read his bonus chapter.

This exists to purely objectify Elain.

Whether you ship Elain with Azriel, or Lucien, or neither, this chapter is disgusting. He thinks about her coming on his tounge, and other things simply just to please him.

He then dares to suggest that "the Cauldron picked wrong" in choosing Lucien as Elain's mate?

No Azriel, SJM picked RIGHT in not giving each Archeron sister a bAt bOy.

Rhysand does the only right thing he's ever done by telling Azriel to stay away from Elain, but then he has to ruin it by clarifying that it's only so they can manipulate and use Lucien more.

Oh, and Azriel wants to kill Lucien.

Need I remind you that Lucien respects Azriel? Lucien is another victim of the Night Court's needless, baseless torment, and Azriel is no exception.

Lucien stays well out of Elain's way because she makes it clear that she's not interested in a mate, but Azriel wants to kill him simply for being her mate.

Lucien has done nothing. And I mean literally NOTHING to warrant any of this treatment. From the bAt bOyS, from Feyre, from his family, from SJM, from the deluded part of this fandom that think he's done wrong. NOTHING.

All I liked about this book was the Lucien scenes (which is a given), ((although I hated the way everyone talks about him behind his back)), Nesta's relationship with the house, Emerie and Gwyn, the evidence that Gwynriel is endgame and subsequently Elucien, and the book love. Everything else was horrible. Oh, and Nesta hates Rhysand. I love that for her, because everyone else bows at his feet.

Oh yeah, when Nesta DARES suggest that Rhysand is an "arrogant, preening asshole" which I think is a compliment, Cassian can't take Rhys' cock out of his mouth for one second, and has to get mad at her for having an opinion. Don't even get me started on Azriel in that scene.

If each book after ACOTAR made me slowly give up, this book made me give up altogether. I cannot go on to support this victim-blaming, abuse-forgiving, misogynistic series. I've given up on SJM, and the only characters I care about anyone are Lucien, Nesta, Helion, and Tarquin. I'll continue to read this series to see if SJM redeems herself, but I'll be downloading them for free. I'm not giving this piece of shit any more of my money.

I hope we don't get the Lucien book. I don't want her to slaughter my fox in the way she slaughtered LITERALLY EVERYONE ELSE.

Thanks for listening.

Edit: I put the review on Goodreads!

#anti acotar #anti acomaf #anti acowar #anti acofas #anti acosf #anti sjm #anti feysand #anti rhysand

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dakarimainink · 3 years

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The Fox and The Viper - Part 1

WARNING: 18+, blood, wounds, fighting, slight angst

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x OFC

Wordcount: 2.9K

Note: Not betad, all mistakes are my own.

Every year a tournament to crown the second champion of Alryne is held, but this year, the tournament is interrupted by the prince of Dorne.

Part 2 | Part 3

Masterlist

Cheers and howling reached the outer corners of the small city as the annual competition was held. A competition for glory and to be crowned the second champion of Alryne.

The arena, seating approximately 700 people, were filled to the brim. At the front, was the royal family; Vallie, seated comfortably in their chairs and shielded from the sun. The King: Orwen Vallie was watching the swords clash and shields break as the competition closed to an end.

The fighting had been going on for two hours, not only entertaining the royal family, but the people inhabiting the city as well. To watch other fight would make anyone’s blood rush and hearts beat rapidly.

The princess and daughter of King Orwen was not as entertained as everyone else. She was resting her head in the palm of her hand, at the brink of falling asleep. She didn’t care much to watch other people get hurt for just a title. It did give one some benefits in regards of housing and money, but the people of Alryne was not poor. She knew the people thrived and the difference in rich and poor was little. The only thing sticking out of the city, was their castle, but the people of Alryne didn’t mind. In fact, they liked the building, as it was the symbol of protection and safety and it had – a long time ago – housed its people before the city was fully built.

“Father, may I leave?” She asked, not trying to hide her obvious boredom.

King Orwen turned to look at her, his bushy brows furrowing deep. “Why would you want to leave, dear?” He asked, but he knew the answer already.

She sighed, lightly shaking her head. “I believe there are better things for a princess to do than to watch men injure each other for little profit.”

King Orwen was fully aware of her views of these tournaments and competitions, although it didn’t quite resonate with her hobbies.

Princess Alessia was a woman known for her thirst of knowledge, she was also the sole heir to the throne, which meant she had to be the protector of the city when her father would pass away.

The royal family of Alryne was known for their swordsmanship and their knowledge of war. Not once had the city lost a fight against their enemies and every war, the ruler of the city would join in the fight. It had been so for a long time and it would continue to be for the future. This meant Alessia had to learn to use a sword and so she had done.

“Little profit?” He scoffed. “There is an honour amongst men to be crowned the second champion. There is glory to be allowed to protect the royal family. There is strength and power to those standing last.”

“But father, I have seen this year after year and no one seems to be able to defeat our current champion. It is a waste of my time and I would like to return to my room for further studies.”

He contemplated it for a moment, wondering if letting her leave was the better option. He knew she made a fair point; studying was probably more beneficial than sitting here watching men grunt, sweat and bleed. Some believed it was ruthless to let her even watch it, but there were so much the people didn’t know. Besides, he didn’t want to hide the true world away from her. This was how life went, spilling of blood was necessary to move on in this world.

Her stubbornness and intellect reminded him of her mother and his late wife. The thought tore at his heart, but happiness fluttered in his chest.

“Fine, you may le-” He was interrupted as he watched his daughter’s eyes slide away from him and onto the arena. The sound of metal clashing together had faded and a hushed silence washed over the place as he turned to look at an unknown man enter the small arena.

He was dressed in light brown armour, a mix of mostly leather with a flexible chest and shoulder armour made of metal, chainmail on his arms and everything was coated in brown to match the leather. In his hand, rested a long staff with a wavy double edged blade on one end and a small spike at the other.

He strode confidently across the arena, but was stopped halfway by some of the contestants, three guards and the current second champion.

The man held King Orwen’s gaze as a warm breeze blew through the arena. Princess Alessia leaned forward in her chair, fascinated by this mysterious man. He didn’t bear any sign or mark to show where his allegiance lied, which made him even more interesting. But what truly peeked her interest, was the two golden snakes wrapped around and adorned on the wavy blade of his staff.

“Present yourself, stranger.” The second champion demanded, a threat lingering at the back of his throat.

Silence.

“Who are you?” The champion barked, taking a step closer while holding his sword high.

It felt like time stood still and the only sound was the sound of their heartbeats and shallow breaths.

“Stranger, you have interrupted a most important competition.” King Orwen started. “For this, you will be punished according to my will. Therefore, you will be sent to the dungeon to stay for a week without food. To this, what do you say?” His voice boomed through the rows of watching citizens.

All eyes rested on the stranger who still hadn’t moved from his spot where he was stopped. He hadn’t taken his eyes off King Orwen since he entered the arena.

“Guards, take him away.” King Orwen ordered and the guards approached the man.

“I am Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne and a member of House Martell. Brother to Doran Martell and Elia Martell.” His authoritative voice made everyone stop in their tracks.

A prince? Alessia gasped, sitting at the edge of her seat. Of Dorne? She had heard of the city, but never been there. It was his brother, Doran, who ruled the place after their father passed. And of course, the tragic death of Elia Martell during the devastating assault on the city of King’s Landing.

“I have heard rumours of the champion of Alryne and I am here to request a duel against him.” The prince continued, still not moving from his spot.

The second champion turned to look at the King, who seemed speechless at his request. He turned back to Oberyn. “You have no authority to come in here, to interrupt a big tournament, to make such demands from our king.” The champion’s voice rose with each word. “I should slay you where you stand.” He snarled.

“Enough.”

Everyone turned their heads to Alessia who had risen from her chair and now stood leaning forward on the railing of the balcony.

“Prince Oberyn Martell, please let me correct this first meeting. It is an honour to have you visit our city.” She smiled kindly, carefully dipping her head in respect. “If we would have known, we would have reserved you a seat.” She scanned his form while turning her smile more into a leer. “But considering your choice of clothing, perhaps a spot to enter this competition would have suited you better.”

Silence.

She noted a slight smirk play on his lips as she spoke. She glanced over her shoulder at her father, who seemed stumped by her sudden presence, before turning back to the arena to address the prince further. “We would love to honour your request, but to face our current champion, you would have to win the very competition you have rudely interrupted.” A hint of venom dripped from her last words. The smirk disappeared from his face and she noticed the guards fix their grip on their weapons due to the change in her demeanour.

She found it surprising her father hadn’t interrupted her yet or taken over her little display of power. A slight thrill played inside of her as she looked down upon the man. It was satisfying to put in place a cocky prince.

“Since I find this competition boring and you are obviously ready for a fight, let’s make this more interesting.” Now, everyone was listening and all eyes were on her. Even the guards surrounding the prince was staring at her. “Face off three guards at the same time. First to draw blood wins. This means you will have to draw blood from all three guards in order to win and not be harmed yourself. If you win, you will have to face off our second champion for first blood as well. Win and we will grant you your request to face off against our current champion.”

Gasps and whispers filled the rows of the watching audience and tension filled the arena as they waited for the prince’s response.

She kept her eyes on him, watching him contemplate it for a moment.

“I accept.” He finally replied and the murmurs grew among the people.

“Wonderful.” Alessia smiled and gestured for everyone to back off. She turned to the two guards standing to her side. Two of the greater guards they had. “Would you do me the honour?” She asked, not wanting to push them to it.

“It would be an honour, princess.” One of them answered and bowed to her.

“We will fight to win, princess Alessia.” The second replied and bowed as well.

She couldn’t help but feel her stomach flutter. “Bring one of the guards in the arena with you.”

They both gave her one nod and marched down the steps and into the arena, walking up to one of the guards.

Alessia turned to look at the prince, who had taken a few steps back and readying himself for a fight. She couldn’t help the excitement dance within her and she barely noticed her father stand up next to her.

“Don’t you think it was a bit too much with three guards at the same time?” He asked as they both watched the guards ready themselves and face against the prince.

“Not at all.” She replied, her eyes resting on Oberyn. “I actually expect him to win.”

The second champion signalled for the fight to begin and the guards immediately charged for the prince. Being calm and collected, he blocked all their attacks and made sure to keep them all in front of him, not allowing them to surround him.

The people watched in anticipation, expecting the young prince to lose quickly, but the cheering of crowds slowly grew with each block from Oberyn. The realisation of the young man winning heightened the tension and excitement as the sound of metal clashing grew faster.

Alessia leaned forward, watching the snake adorned spear dance between the fighting men. How it gracefully swung to block and turn to hit. The metal shimmering in the sun, blinding some of the watching people. She saw the pure focus in the prince’s eyes as he fought to win.

She was so deeply enthralled she didn’t notice Oberyn had already defeated two of the three guards. It was only when the crowd ruptured into full celebration, she saw streaks of blood coated on his blade and Oberyn had just swiped at the last guard.

Glancing at the three defeated men, she found nothing but shame and disappointment as they took off their helmets and knelt in front of her. Their feelings were not mirrored as she looked down upon them. She was proud of their efforts to fight against the prince,

“Well done, prince Oberyn.” She praised the young prince, who bowed to her compliment. “Most would find it foolish to test you further, but there is a reason this man is the second champion.” She gestured to her champion. “Raoul, has been the ruling champion for years now. If you defeat him, you will be granted a duel against our main champion. Are you ready to face him?”

The prince simply nodded to her question, not breaking the gaze he had locked with her. He seemed confident and strong-willed to see this through.

The three defeated guards stood up and made their way out of the arena. Alessia knew they needed to be praised for their valiant efforts, and so she would go to them later. She would have to come up with a repayment for the fight. But that would come later. Right now, she was more focused on watching the prince fight her second champion. She knew it would be a challenge, as Raoul had stayed on top for several years, undefeated by all. His armour would be hard to get through as well, as he relayed on strength and the weight of not only his body, but his sword and shield as well.

Raoul slid on his helmet, knowing the only way to penetrate and get a streak of blood from him, was the small cracks between his armour, which he needed for mobility. He knew one good swing would surely give him a swipe of blood from the cocky prince.

Both, standing ready in a stance, the fight begun as Raoul approached Oberyn with sword and shield held high.

The first clash of their weapons sent a shiver down Alessia’s spine. She leaned forward as she listened to the men grunt and weapons crash. The crowd was mostly silent, nervous and excited to see who would win. Even Alessia wasn’t sure who would come out as the victor.

“I will break you, prince.” Raoul barked as he knocked his shield against Oberyn, making him fall back. As he swung his sword to hit him, the young prince rolled to the side, flipped up to his feet and kicked Raoul. It wasn’t enough to make him fall, but at least make him lose his balance.

Raoul turned to the prince once more and they stood staring, both gasping for air. “Second champion? Must mean you are defeated after all.” Oberyn pointed out, a smirk painting his lips as a drop of sweat ran down his forehead. “How does it feel to be the second best?” He leered. “And soon to be third.”

Raoul charged towards the prince, eyes filled with fire and blood rushing through his veins. His shield collided with Oberyn’s spear, which then blocked his sword swing. Raoul swung his sword once again and Oberyn thrusted his spear forward and blood was drawn.

The two men stood still as the wind blew through the arena once again. Raoul turned to look at the young prince standing tall behind him. His eyes rose to the blade of his spear, watching his own fresh blood trickle down the snake heads. Dropping his sword and shield, he suddenly realised his arm was wet and he pulled off his helmet. Looking down, he saw a small pool of blood next to him, only growing bigger by the stream of blood running down his arm and dripping off his fingertips.

He pulled at the leather strap of his arm and yanked the armour off. The metal clashed as it landed in the sand and the leather around his arm was soaked. It was then he noticed the small tear in the leather on the underside of his upper arm and accepted his defeat.

Alessia looked at Raoul, the shame and disappointment painting his face tore at her heart. The silence in the arena was suffocating as all eyes were on her.

She turned to her father for words. He stepped up next to her and looked down upon the two men.

“Well fought to the both of you and congratulations prince Oberyn. A promise is a promise, and we will let you face our first champion. However, this will have to take place tomorrow.” King Orwen explained. “We will be happy to welcome you to our home to rest up.”

“That is most gracious of you, king Orwen, but I think I will find a more suiting accommodation for me.” He bowed his head, looked up, glanced at the princess before walking away.

As soon as the prince had turned his back, Alessia stepped down from the podium and briskly walked over to Raoul.

“Alessia-” Orwen called after her, almost in protest of her walking down.

She ignored her father’s call.

Raoul hadn’t moved since he had ripped the armour off his arm. The pool of blood next to him had grown and when he noticed the princess approach him, his eyes widened in horror. “Princess, no.” He took a step back.

Alessia didn’t heed his warning and walked up to him. She grabbed his arm and inspected the tear in the leather. Her hands turned red and the blood felt warm. The tear wasn’t big, but enough to cause concern.

“We need to get this fixed.” She mumbled, not realising Raoul was staring at her in shock. “I’ll get you the finest healer in the city.” She looked up at him and noticed him gulp.

“I’m sorry, princess.” He murmured, sweat trickling from his forehead. “I failed you.” Guilt and shame painted his face.

She shook her head with a gentle smile. “You have not failed me, Raoul. Quite the opposite.” She waved over two guards. “Now get this fixed and we can talk later.”

(Wanna be added to my tag list for Pedro Pascal and his characters? Let me know and I will happily add you)

@cynic-spirit, @lililolli, @notabotiswear, @sara-alonso, @blankmooon, @xoxo-callie, @mamacitapascal, @thewaythisis, @greeneyedblondie44, @stevie75, @mswarriorbabe80, @evyiione

#Oberyn Martell #Oberyn Martell x ofc #game of thrones #the red viper of Dorne #Pedro Pascal #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #ao3 #18+

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melanielocke · 3 years

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Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 15

AO3

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite

Previous Chapter: Chapter 14

Next Chapter: Chapter 16

Will covered his face with his hand. ‘I do not understand why after yesterday you’d want to return to the woods,’ he said. ‘Well, I understand the recklessness of some of you, but I was expecting a little more sense from Alastair.’

Lucie had to agree that if any of them had the common sense not to run towards danger, it was Alastair.

‘If we do nothing, we stand little chance of saving Thomas,’ Alastair said, his voice betraying no emotion but he did seem a bit stiff.

‘Excellent point. I’ve heard I am to congratulate you, by the way, Alastair. And Thomas too, of course. Here I was hoping that after James and Cordelia broke up, I’d have another chance for a Carstairs in the family with you and Lucie.’

Lucie wished she could disappear. She deeply regretted telling her father about her crush on Alastair, almost two years ago. Nowadays, she realized she’d probably just looked up to him, she had been grateful for the way he’d defended her. She had liked him better than most boys in school, and had mistaken that for a crush. However, when it came to boys in school, the bar was on the floor.

Alastair, for his part, looked horrified. ‘That will never happen. I’m gay.’

‘So am I!’ declared Lucie. She figured this was as good a time as any to bring it up, and she’d been meaning to tell everyone anyway.

Everyone stared at her. Alastair looked amused. ‘Well, that is one way to come out. Congratulations, Lucie.’

Her father looked surprised. ‘Really? You always told me about boys you liked.’

Lucie shrugged. ‘Yeah, that’s weird,’ she said. ‘I think at some point I started looking at girls and realized what I felt for boys didn’t really compare.’

Lucie wasn’t sure that made sense, but on the internet she’d discovered plenty of lesbians had had crushes on boys before realizing. Feelings were confusing for sure, and the longer Lucie thought about it, the more she began to understand those oblivious book characters who were obviously in love but had no clue.

‘I didn’t realize,’ Will said. ‘But I’m glad you told me. Can’t wait until you tell us about any girls you like.’

Considering her father’s fondness for the Carstairs family and how determined he was to bring one into the family, Lucie wasn’t sure telling him how she felt about Cordelia was a good idea. She didn’t doubt her father would think it a good idea to help, which would end in disaster.

Lucie felt that was enough said about the topic for now. ‘Back to our plan,’ she continued. ‘We need to find the selkie skin, which according to our source is located in the woods, in the land in between. The same place Alastair and Thomas ended up finding yesterday. There was a trap door they couldn’t open, but cortana could cut through the lock, so that’s our way in.’

Lucie didn’t mention the minor risk of getting trapped all the way in the realm of the thief of souls. Nor were they completely sure the trap door hid the selkie skin, but it had to hide something interesting, right?

‘Hold on, whose selkie skin, and why?’ Will asked.

Cordelia summarized last night’s visit. ‘Grace needs that skin, or she will be forced to use her power on us. Even if our plan has its risks, the risk of doing nothing is falling under the spell of a siren.’

‘I thought you said she was a selkie,’ Will said.

‘Something in between, I think,’ Cordelia said. ‘She is a selkie, but she has the voice of a siren. Something about myths being muddled. I don’t know, I can’t say I have much experience with the lovely ladies of the sea. That’s what she called herself, by the way.’

Lucie had to admit Grace was indeed quite lovely.

Will sighed. ‘I guess you’re right that someone has to go. I’d do it myself, but there must be a reason she asked for Cordelia specifically and I don’t have any weapons. But I do want you to be back by dinner. Now hurry before Tessa, Gideon or Sophie learns of your plans.’ A playful smile appeared on her father’s lips. ‘And if anyone asks, this conversation never happened.’

Lucie quickly put on some walking shoes, heart beating fast until the four of them were out of sight and she was sure her mother couldn’t stop them anymore. Her father might be lenient when it came to recklessness, but her mother was not.

‘If anyone gets mad at us, I’m definitely blaming your father,’ Alastair announced.

‘That’s not fair,’ Lucie protested. ‘He covered for us.’

‘Let’s just focus on our mission,’ Thomas offered. ‘Yesterday, we took this path and it took us to the ruins.’

She followed Thomas and Alastair, who remembered how they’d come upon the ruins yesterday. It was a nice route, Lucie had to admit that, with a small pond on the side. In the end, after a long walk by Lucie’s standards, they exited the woods back where Lucie had entered to follow Tatiana, at the side of the village.

Lucie frowned. ‘Are you sure that was the right route?’ she asked. ‘I didn’t see any ruins.’

‘Perhaps the entrance is somewhere different today,’ Thomas suggested. ‘Maybe we should go back and try another path.’

After trying several paths and walking for hours, Lucie was getting tired. She wasn’t used to taking walks this long like Thomas and Alastair were and she was pretty sure she had blisters on both feet. Determined not to complain, she trailed behind the two boys, who kept exchanging longing stares. They really were adorable together. Thomas at some point took Alastair’s hand in his, which caused Alastair to stop in his tracks. Lucie nearly bumped into him.

‘Why isn’t this working?’ Cordelia asked.

‘Well, yesterday was the first time we found the ruins,’ Thomas said. ‘Before that, the forest was normal. Apart from some gnomes, things like that. Nothing unusual, at least. Perhaps today, the gateway isn’t there. Or perhaps there’s another trick to reaching it.’

‘Is there anything we did different yesterday?’ Alastair wondered.

‘We didn’t intend to find the land in between,’ Thomas said. ‘What if we cannot find it now that we’re actively looking?’

‘Then how would Tatiana find it?’ Alastair asked. ‘If that’s where she hid Grace’ skin, she can’t have stumbled on the ruins by accident like we did.’

‘Could be part of the deal she made, her learning how to come there,’ Lucie said. ‘Is there anything else you did differently?’

‘We were there earlier,’ Alastair added. ‘Thomas decided to sleep in today, whereas yesterday he and I went into the woods early in the morning.’

‘I think I was on my way there when I followed Tatiana,’ Lucie added. ‘When I returned, Cordelia said I was gone for an hour when it didn’t feel that way, just like you were gone for a whole day.’

‘I’m not sure stalking Tatiana until we can follow her there is such a good idea,’ Alastair said. ‘Perhaps we should try it again tomorrow morning.’

They tried again the next morning, and then in the evening for a short walk, but no result. She had patched up her feet with blister band aids from her mother’s first aid kit and kept going, even if her feet were still hurting and it was getting worse. It wasn’t the time, it turned out, and Lucie started to get frustrated. Grace hadn’t come back, and how were they supposed to get her skin if they couldn’t get back into the land in between?

The third morning, after another fruitless attempt to find the land in between, her mother was waiting for them in the hallway when they returned to the house.

‘Where have you been all morning?’ she scolded.

Lucie realized none of them had a good excuse for this morning. Most of the time, no one had noticed them return, and they had been ‘reading’ the whole time in their bedrooms. At least for Thomas and Alastair, it was believable that they’d want to spend time together in a bedroom “reading” any time of the day. She looked around to see if anyone would come up with something. At least Cordelia was a decent liar. But no one offered a believable excuse and Lucie had no inspiration.

‘We were looking for a way back into the land in between,’ Lucie said, deciding not to reveal her father’s role in their adventures. ‘But we couldn’t find it. So no harm done, we weren’t in danger and the only injuries sustained are my blisters.’

Her mother sighed. ‘You’re just like your father, Lucie. But I’d hoped some of you had more sense.’

Her mother looked at Alastair, her expression stern. ‘I thought you could be a voice of reason among them, Alastair. I don’t understand why you’d do something so reckless. Promise me you won’t go into the woods again.’

Lucie agreed that out of the four of them, Alastair probably had the most common sense, but it was almost painful to see Alastair respond. Lucie knew her mother often came across as harsher than she meant, but Alastair probably didn’t. His face went blank, he retreated back into his shell. Lucie might not have noticed anything was wrong if Cordelia had not looked so concerned.

‘I’m sorry to have disappointed you, dr. Gray,’ he said and before anyone else could say anything, Alastair disappeared inside, presumably to his bedroom.

Her mother had a PhD and did all sorts of medical research, Lucie knew she liked it when people called her by her title, but at the same time she’d hoped Alastair was close enough to her parents to call them by their first names.

Thomas and Cordelia also made their way inside before her mother could get angry with them too, Lucie remaining behind.

‘It was for Thomas,’ Lucie said. ‘We needed to find the place in between again. We needed to find Grace’ selkie skin or else Tatiana will force Grace to enchant us with her voice.’

Tessa sighed, putting her hand on Lucie’s shoulder. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Lucie? We could have gone in your place.’

Lucie figured she shouldn’t tell her mother her father had encouraged her to go.

‘I didn’t want you to put yourself in danger,’ Lucie said. ‘Cordelia has cortana, Alastair has his memory, so they had to go. I think you’ve upset Alastair, I better go check if he’s alright.’

Tessa sighed. ‘No, I will check on him. You’re right, I was too harsh on him. I didn’t consider… Never mind, I’ll go. But don’t think you’re out of trouble, young lady. You’re not leaving the house until otherwise specified.’

Lucie groaned and went inside, taking off her shoes and replacing the patches on her blisters. She had a pair of fit flops she could still wear, and Lucie decided that even if those shoes weren’t the most suitable for the forest, she would wear them for their next walk. If she was ever allowed to leave the house again, that was.

She wasn’t sure where Cordelia or Thomas had gone, upstairs to find Alastair? Perhaps she should join them, but her father found her first.

‘Tessa caught you,’ he concluded, sitting down next to her.

Lucie made a face. ‘Now I’m not allowed to leave the house.’

‘I’ll talk to her,’ her father promised. ‘Have you found anything yet?’

‘No,’ Lucie said. ‘I don’t understand why. Thomas and Alastair one day walked into the land in between on accident, but now we can’t find it and it’s frustrating and my feet hurt and these blisters are bursting open.’ She paused. ‘Did you see where Thomas and Cordelia went?’

‘Upstairs,’ Will said. ‘I’m thinking they’re talking to Alastair. He seemed rather upset. Is everything alright with him?’

Lucie sighed. ‘I think it’s something mom said. She didn’t mean to hurt him, but because he’s the oldest out of the four of us and definitely the one with the most common sense, she said that she’d expected more from him.’

She couldn’t explain it exactly, she didn’t always understand what upset Alastair. But she suspected Alastair felt like he didn’t deserve to be here, or that her parents liking him was very conditional. Perhaps in Alastair’s mind, all love was conditional, and any mistake he made meant he’d lose someone’s love. Lucie was trying to understand what was going on in his head. As a writer, she should be able to understand how people thought and why they did what they did. As a friend, she should be able to offer support. She wasn’t sure she was doing a good job with either.

‘I imagine that’s difficult for him to hear,’ Will said. He sighed. ‘This is all my fault. I’ll talk to your mother, and tell her I encouraged you to go.’

‘Mom will be very mad with you,’ Lucie said.

‘Now she’s angry with you, and I deserve it more,’ Will said. A playful smile lit up his face. ‘Besides, you’re not little princess Lucinda who needs to be locked in a tower, that’s for sure. What’s life without a little risk?’

Lucie wondered if he’d feel the same way after facing her mother.

She went outside into the garden on her fit flops to feel the sun on her skin after reapplying sun screen. The weather was nice today, not too hot, a soft breeze against her cheek, and only a few clouds in the air. That could change any moment though, Scotland was known for is changeable weather. A good atmosphere for a nice romantic scene, or bonding between friends or family. Or just fun scenes that might not need to be in the book but balanced out the dark ones. Lucie felt a book should be balanced in that sense. While she loved drama and darkness, she did not like gritty stories where everything was dark and terrible. She liked to balance out the darkness with a sweet romance or gentle characters still remaining kind and hopeful in the worst circumstances. Or characters who might have turned bitter, but were trying to be better. Thomas had a bit of a weakness for those, which totally wasn’t because that archetype resembled Alastair.

The garden still counted as the house, right? She suspected Thomas and Cordelia were both still with Alastair and she didn’t think it would be a good idea to join them. She didn’t know Alastair as well as Cordelia did, she feared she’d only say the wrong thing. Besides, Alastair didn’t seem to like people taking care of him or fussing over him, Cordelia had told her she sometimes had to force him to let her protect him for once. Lucie feared her mother’s comment had reinforced some deeply held belief of his that he was worthless, even if she had never intended to make him feel that way.

She wondered how she’d never seen something was not right at the Carstairs home. Cordelia hadn’t either, but she remembered how when she was young, Cordelia would sometimes come to her for sleepovers, whereas Cordelia’s parents had rarely invited her over at their house. Of course, when she was little Lucie would get homesick and preferred having sleep overs at her own house anyway, so it had never bothered her.

And when Lucie was little, her father would always come sing her a Welsh lullaby. He was Welsh through his father, whereas the house here in Scotland had been in her grandmother’s family for some time. He was a horrible singer, and it was hilarious how he kept trying and did not care what people thought. It was sweet and Lucie had always felt safe and protected when her father came to tuck her in and sing his horrible songs. Cordelia had told her it was usually Alastair who sang her good night songs and tucked her in. That had made sense too. Alastair had a beautiful voice after all, and who wouldn’t want to listen to him sing? Back then, Alastair had seemed much older and wiser than the two of them, but really, he’d been a child too.

And Cordelia had regularly had to cancel plans because her father was sick and she couldn’t leave him. Lucie had understood, although the disappointment never quite faded. But when Lucie’s father was sick, he might whine and moan like a typical man flu patient and complain that he needed uncle Jem’s care and support, but he would never have asked Lucie to choose taking care of him over spending time with the few friends she had.

None of those things had struck her as odd in childhood, but now she was thinking maybe they should have. Maybe someone should have seen something was not right at the Carstairs house. Perhaps then Alastair wouldn’t be in so much pain now.

‘Lucie!’

Lucie looked up, but didn’t see anyone calling out her name. Nor did she recognize the voice. It was a smooth, feminine voice.

‘Over here!’ the voice hissed and Lucie followed the sound to the trees and recognized Grace.

‘What are you doing here?’ Lucie asked.

‘Tatiana left me alone. She didn’t realize I had enough free will left to come here.’

‘I’m sorry, we don’t have your skin yet,’ Lucie said.

Grace rolled her eyes. ‘I know. I’ve seen you walk in the woods once or twice. Honestly, that was embarrassing.’

Lucie frowned. ‘How so?’

‘You never even opened the gateway,’ Grace said.

‘How are we supposed to do that? We’re not Tatiana!’ Lucie exclaimed. ‘And Alastair and Thomas entered the land in between by accident.’

‘It sucks people in sometimes,’ Grace said. ‘But rarely by accident. Alastair was targeted when he and Thomas came there, Tatiana found out he has a memory ability and she thinks he’s a threat to her plans. I think she’s scared her brother will remember something. That’s why the werewolf was after him.’

Lucie frowned. ‘They know about that?’

‘Yes. But they do not yet know about you,’ Grace said. ‘I figured it out when I realized you could see Jesse. You better get my skin back before she realizes what you are. She’ll want you dead for sure.’

‘What I am?’ Lucie asked.

‘You have power, Lucie,’ Grace said. ‘You’re a witch.’

‘No, I’m not,’ Lucie said. ‘I just see ghosts. That’s all.’

‘I know you see ghosts. You talked to Jesse. Do you have any idea how rare that ability is?’

‘I’ve never met anyone else who could do it.’

‘Exactly!’ Grace exclaimed. ‘You have no idea what you’re capable of. You can open a gateway into the land in between. And even more important, if you find yourself trapped you can open the way back.’

‘How do you know?’ Lucie asked.

‘Because I have heard legends of one other person like you. A witch who was born centuries ago. She wasn’t like other humans who used magic, she used dark magic, but hadn’t acquired it through a deal and there was no price to pay to something powerful. As a little girl, all she knew was she saw ghosts. And when ghosts stayed around her, they became stronger. But she learnt there was much more she could do and grew stronger. She learnt to open those gateways and use them as a weapon, she learnt to control the dead.’

Lucie was horrified. She could do such things? ‘What happened to her?’

‘As a woman of her time, and an odd one at that, she was treated badly of course. At some point she snapped and became a dangerous, evil witch. Who can blame her, honestly. She was defeated by the ancestor of the Carstairs, the one who carries cortana. Before he could deliver the killing blow, she jumped into the sea and drowned herself. She lost her dark magic, but came back to life as a daughter of the sea, a mermaid. She repented, changed, and lived her life peacefully in the sea. That is how we know her story.’

Lucie frowned. ‘I don’t want to be an evil witch,’ she said.

Grace’s grey eyes were cold and void of emotion. ‘Then don’t be. Just because magic is dark doesn’t mean it’s evil. Be a good witch or a neutral one or whatever you want to be. But you can’t change that you are a witch, and I need you to find my skin. You, the bearer of cortana, and the one with the memory. Without you it can’t be done. But you need to know what you can do, you need to open a gateway.’

‘How?’ Lucie asked.

‘It’s your power, not mine,’ Grace said. ‘Go figure it out. I need to get back before Tatiana realizes I am missing. They say when the witch wanted something, all she had to do was ask. So be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.’

#Lucie Herondale #Alastair Carstairs #Cordelia Carstairs #Thomas Lightwood #Lucelia #Thomastair #fanfiction #tlh #the last hours

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tessiete · 3 years

Note

HELLO. *Yeets at you with no expectations or pressure* The grass reached for the sky in uncoordinated brambles. Flowers sprouted in the voids, gasping in relief in the sun. If one was to lay within it, they would be completely hidden. "I thought I might find you here, little one."

OH HI! No, I’ve not completely forgotten about prompts, and yes, I will post at midnight again.

I fear no gods.

Anyway, thank you @kyber-erso for letting me make this about my boy, the Korks, and his dumb grandpa.

ILU Your gorgeous prose is such inspiration!!! (It was the only part @lieutenantmittens praised :sunglasses:)

Let’s have a title....um...

TO FORGET OURSELVES

The grass reached for the sky in uncoordinated brambles. Flowers sprouted in the voids, gasping in relief of the sun. If one were to lie within it, they would be completely hidden. Qui-Gon Jinn, however, was a large man, and though he crawled forward on his belly, and twisted to lie on his back, his knees still arced above the grassline like ancient monuments on a foreign plain.

"I thought I might find you here, little one.”

Beside him, couched like a barah fawn in a nest of broken reeds, and soft needle greens, Korkie Kryze grumbled out a paltry welcome. He snapped the twig in his hands then launched the pieces into the air above him. They arced high, then fell out of sight, disappearing into the long grass surrounding them.

“No one knows this place,” the boy countered. “It’s secret.”

“Ah,” Qui-Gon said, suitably chastened. “Do I need a chain code, or civil chit to stay?”

Korkie frowned. The dry litter crinkled beneath his head as he shifted to consider Qui-Gon with all the seriousness of a Mand’alor.

“No,” he decided. “Just a password.”

“Oh,” Qui-Gon said, nodding sagely. “What is it?”

“I can’t tell you,” Korkie sighed. He kicked his feet out straight, flinging a handful of needles into the sky to emphasise the impossibility of Qui-Gon’s request. “You have to guess. Otherwise it’s not very secure, is it?”

Staves - small brown and green slivers of yesterday’s sunlight - fell like confetti around them, pricking the skin of his cheeks and brow. He closed his eyes, as beside him, Korkie flinched away to shield himself.

Once recovered, Qui-Gon considered his options.

“What password shall I guess?” he asked.

“If you can’t guess it, then you don’t know it, and you can’t stay,” Korkie decreed.

“A fair judgement,” Qui-Gon said. “But I am so very old that perhaps I just forgot it. Would you be kind to an ancient, aged fossil such as myself, and give me a clue?”

Korkie sighed again, loud enough that he nearly gave it voice, just to be certain that Qui-Gon was quite aware of the inconvenience of his request. Still, he relents, and he cupped his hand to Qui-Gon’s ear to breathe the secret between them.

“Oh, I see,” the Jedi said. He opened his mouth, and exhaled, the confidential code a near corporeal thing in the world before Korkie slapped his hand across his mouth, preventing the sound from escaping.

“You can’t say it out loud,” he cried. “You have to whisper it to me. Otherwise anyone might hear it.”

So Qui-Gon held his own hand to the boy’s much smaller ear, and murmured the password back.

“Okay,” Korkie said, satisfied. “You can stay.”

“Thank you,” the master replied.

For a while, they lay in silence, staring up at the wide expanse of sky above them. The firmament above was a bright blue, but to those two votaries it appeared bruised, and dark as the heavy dome of Sundari arched high to dim the effulgent rays so that mortals, too, might bask in them.

Between them, there was perfect accord, both content to rest in the company of the other. There was a meditative peace in the sound of grass, and in the touch of the sun. But, at four, Korkie had little patience for the beauties of the world. Instead, he was much preoccupied by his own troubled thoughts, and unlike the heavy evergreen needles, they refused to settle softly beneath his head.

“It isn’t fair,” he houghed, another twig straining to reach the escape velocity of their orbit.

“That is true about many things,” Qui-Gon agreed. He reached his hand to the earth beside him, digging until the litter gave way to fine silt. It ran over his fingers like silk, weighed down by the oils of his skin, and left a dusting over his palms. “What, in particular, are you most troubled by, my boy?”

Korkie sighed again. His sighs contained whole systems within the bounds of their expulsions. He rolled to his side, facing Qui-Gon, curling his legs, and tucking his hands beneath his head. His entire aspect was bent toward the consideration of his most serious complaint.

“It isn’t fair that Bebu must leave again when you only just got here.”

Qui-Gon rolled to face him, equally considerate.

“Well, that’s not entirely true, is it?” he asked. “After all, your father and I have been here for nearly four months. Since before your mid-break. And we shall not be leaving until after Holyhod Day. That is quite a long time, don’t you think?”

“If I were in school the whole time,” Korkie agreed. “But break doesn’t count. And plus, I was in school for some of it, so I didn’t get to see you as much.”

“Your buir saw you every day, Kiorkicek,” Qui-Gon said, quite firmly. There would be no slighting of his own evergreen, and erstwhile padawan by anyone.

Korkie felt the justice of Qui-Gon’s correction, and thrust his lower lip forward in tremulous defiance.

“I said, not as much.”

“So you did,” agreed Qui-Gon, quick to acknowledge his own fault. “Forgive me. Go on.”

“I am only saying,” continued Korkie, “That it isn’t fair that Bebu is going so soon, and taking you with him.”

“As I am the elder, perhaps it is I who is taking him.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” Korkie said.

“No, I suppose not,” Qui-Gon said. It was his turn to sigh, as he rolled to his back once more, and stared up at the sky, watching it ripple behind the glossy dome, like light over water. “Do you know, when your father was little he used to lie in the grasses at the Temple, just like this, and look up at the vaulted claricrystalline of the Coruscant day?”

“Bebu did? Like me?”

“He did.”

Korkie screwed up his mouth, riddled with scepticism. “No, he didn’t,” he said. “This place is much too dirty for Bebu. He always tells Belli that I look ‘a wild creature unfit for civil tables’ when I come back like this.”

“And what does your mother say to that?”

“She says she loves wild and untamed things the best. And Bebu always laughs, and -” he added, leaning near to confess - “he never gets actually mad when I get mud on his trousers or his tunics. He just pretends.”

“Well, I tell you quite truly,” Qui-Gon murmured back. Korkie’s eyes were brightened with expectation. “When your father was not much older than you are now, he used to hide in the grass in the Room of a Thousand Fountains and look at the sky.”

“Really?”

“Really, really,” Qui-Gon vowed. “And I can recall several instances where he found himself covered in muck up to his ears!”

“You’re tricking me,” Korkie said.

“I am not,” Qui-Gon denied. “On one occasion, he dropped your mother into a great puddle of mud, and she was covered, too!”

“And then what?”

“What do you think,” Qui-Gon said, his eyes glinting with mirth. “He reached in to help her out, and then -”

“Then?”

“Then she pulled him in after her!”

At this, Korkie burst into a riot of laughter, so bright and clear as to startle a flock of dozing echo’lanaar from the trees.

“Bebu was covered in mud!” he shouted, alive with joy. “And Belli, too! They must have looked so silly!”

Qui-Gon grinned. “They did,” he swore. “Quite silly. Much sillier than you look when you go home covered in needle greens or clay. And do you know what else?”

“What?” Korkie asked, falling silent and reverent again, caught in the grip of Qui-Gon’s voice.

“Every time we left the Temple he missed his home, and his friends, too. Just like you miss him when he’s gone.”

“It’s different,” Korkie said, feeling slightly betrayed by the way Qui-Gon has turned back to beckon his troubles join them in this den. “Because he left his friends. His friends didn’t leave him.”

“What is the difference, Kiorkicek, if everyone is still parted?”

And that is something he had not thought.

Korkie frowned, trying to puzzle it out, but Qui-Gon spared him the struggle because the lesson to be learned was difficult enough for a master, fully grown, never mind a boy hardly older than a few revolutions of the earth.

“Don’t you think that your Bebu misses you?” he asked. “Don’t you think he’s sad when you’re not there?”

“Maybe,” Korkie conceded. “I don’t know.”

“I do,” Qui-Gon said. “And I can promise you that when you are here, and he is there, he always wishes you close.”

“I don’t think so,” Korkie said. “Because if that were true, then he wouldn’t leave at all. He’d always be here, and he wouldn’t care about there.”

“But he has many duties and responsibilities to do there,” Qui-Gon countered, his voice soft as the brambles below. “You know he saves lives. You know he frees people. You know he changes whole wide worlds, Kiorkicek. And he can’t do that from here.”

Korkie breathed deep, and exhaled. Needles scattered. The curving back of a tiny strill appeared in the dirt beneath his finger, gaining a wide jaw and a long tail as Qui-Gon watched, and Korkie thought about things.

“Are you sure he misses me?” he asked, at last.

“I am certain,” Qui-Gon said.

“How do you know?”

He looked at Qui-Gon then with such belief, such faith, and all at once, the Jedi saw another little boy who’d looked at him much the same for years, who also hid in brambles when upset, who also longed for the reassurance of desire, and he knew that this time, he would not hold back.

“I know,” he said, his voice solemn, and his gaze steady, “Because when your father is here, and I am there, I miss him just as much.”

#korkie kenobi #qui-gon jinn #obi-wan kenobi #satine kryze #obitine #my fic #prompt fill #thank you

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writers-blogck · 4 years

Text

A Pity Party for One ( Sugawara Koushi x Reader )

Warning(s): This includes a lot of cursing and alcohol use. Characters are assumed to be aged up to past the legal drinking age. Did I get the inspiration to write this after listening to Michael in the Bathroom for the tenth time in a row? The world may never know.

Title: A Pity Party for One Pairing: Sugawara Koushi x Reader Fandom: Haikyuu! Word Count: 1,798

Mascara? A mess.

Drink? Empty.

Mental State? Terrible.

Hotel? Trivago.

You tossed your red solo cup against the tiled wall of the bathtub that you had claimed as your current residency. Whose house was this anyway? You think the guy had a man bun but you could have been wrong. Everything was a blur other than the image of your boyfriend feeling up another girl. How could he just throw three years away, three goddamn years?! A choked sob slipped past your lips as you pulled your knees closer to your chest.

How had you gotten yourself in this situation? Here you were, in a stranger's empty tub having a mental breakdown. Converse sneakers and pastel pink dress bunched at your waist. Even without looking in the mirror, you knew that your makeup was a mess. It would only make sense with how much you had cried. You had no plan for what you should do. Everything just hurt and you were wishing you were home under your covers instead of this porcelain bed. All your tears had been shed and you were left with small whimpers and clenched fists.

"Oh...I didn't know that anyone was in here. The door was unlocked and I was just planning on washing up a bit and-" A boy with light brown hair that seemed to be tinted with silver when it hit the light right walked in your hiding place. It wasn't like you had locked the door, you probably should have. You had simply slammed the door behind you and that had been enough notice for the people around you. How long had you been in here? Your phone had died an hour ago when you arrived at the party. You were just on life's shitlist today!

"It is utter bullshit!" You huffed out, not seeming to care that this guy you had never met before just walked in the bathroom where you were hiding. It wasn't like you were using the restroom but you knew that you looked like a hot mess right now. Damn, you might not even look hot and instead just look like a mess. How was that fair? Groaning, you leaned your head back and hit it against the cold wall.

"Whoa...You look like you have had better nights." The guy slowly walked in, shutting the door behind him. If you weren't drunk out of your mind and hurting like you never had before, then you might have been scared about being in this room with this guy alone. He could lock the door and then who knows what could happen. Still, that was the last thing on your mind.

The boy was wearing a dusty blue shirt with what looked to be khaki pants. Average, normal, safe. He didn't have any immediate red flags that you seemed to attract. Did you just give off the vibe of someone who could be walked over? God, maybe you were. How had you been so stupid for three years...This wasn't the first time. You had a suspicion but you didn't want it to be true. You had been with this boy since high school and the idea of having to live without him was terrifying. You had become dependent on him. God, what were you going to do? How were you going to get home?!

Red sneakers moved closer and soon the boy who looked to be around your age was squatting next to the tub. His arms rested on the cool porcelain, something that had felt wonderful against your hot skin when you first got in. You couldn't help it, you got hot when you drank too much. Normally you would just sip on whatever you were having that night but once you saw your world crumbling in front of you, you decided it was time to just down the entire thing as fast as possible. The faster it got in you, the faster the hurt would go away. You hoped anyway...

"I just want to go home!" You whimpered, hands gripping at the itchy fabric of your dress. He had been the one to suggest you wear it, he said that he liked how it 'hugged your curves'. So, being a nice girlfriend, you decided to wear it and what does he go and do?! Feel up some girl that you had never even seen before! Had you not been enough? How long had he been cheating on you? Was this the only girl or did he have multiple women he went to so he could get his rocks off? Your head was spinning with the alcohol affecting your system. You were drunk.

"Okay," His voice was soft, like he was approaching an injured animal and didn't want to scare it off, "How did you get here? Can I go get someone for you or is there someone I can call?"

Watery eyes met his warm ones and it was the first time you had made eye contact with this stranger. You wouldn't lie, he was very attractive. In that soft but strong way. The kind of soft where he wouldn't let anyone walk over him. You had thought that was you but you had three years of experience to prove otherwise. You must have been a pitiful sight to see if his expression was anything to go off of. Why did he care? It wasn't like either of you knew each other. You weren't used to people being nice just to be nice. Was he an angel? He sure looked like he could be one. You wondered what he looked like under his shirt with how it accentuated his muscles...Oh, God! Your cheeks only reddened even more at your thoughts. What kind of drunk were you?! You never would think that way...At least, you would never tell anyone you thought those things. Luckily you still had enough control of your lips to keep yourself from saying anything too embarrassing, for now.

"My ride is out there with his hand under some other girl's shirt. Fuck, I have to go home with him. I live with him and I just saw him...." You buried your head in your knees, in a mix of wanting to hide your misery filled face and wanting the bright lights to just tone down for a bit. They seemed brighter than normal bathroom lights...What were you even talking about? It wasn't like every bathroom had the same lights. Even with your brain trying to distract you with these unusual thoughts, you couldn't get the image of your boyfriend out of your head. The two of you had even been talking about marriage recently. His mother seemed so happy with the two of you...What would she think if she knew what her son was really like?

"Three years and this is how he treats me...I think I am just cursed with bad luck or something. God doesn't want me to have a good relationship. I've wasted three years with this guy and...."

"Don't talk like that. Sometimes we have to go through tough times to get out on the other side. You know, you have to have rain to have a rainbow." The boy brushed a stray piece of hair behind your ear and you were convinced that he was your guardian angel. Why else would he be this nice and so helpful to a drunk girl he didn't know, crying in the bathroom for who knows how long.

Sugawara bit his bottom lip gently in thought, unsure of what he should do in this situation? He knew he was good at helping people (according to the team anyway), but he had never dealt with something like this before. He was glad he decided not to drink tonight or else he would be having a harder time with this. All he had to do was think clearly and he surely would come up with some plan, right?

"Well...I can always drive you home or we could go find the people throwing the party. Asahi and Tanaka might be able to think of something. More likely Asahi since Tanaka might be a bottle in already..." He mumbled the last part mainly to himself but your ears perked up at the familiar name.

"....Tanaka?" Your voice was quiet as you glanced up at the handsome boy, causing his heart to skip a beat. Why did people's eyes always look so pretty after they had cried? That wasn't fair. He wished he could help more but he simply nodded at your strange question.

"I know him," You rubbed the back of your hand against your eyes, not even thinking about the black smudges that were only getting worse on your skin. You were disheveled with makeup smudged more than an abstract painting and a dress with a recent stain that Sugawara would assume was whatever you had in your plastic cup before it was empty. Yet, he couldn't help himself and thought you were one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen. If he saw your ex.....He pushed those thoughts to the side. He could think of that in the future.

"He is our friend...I mean, my friend...He is in some of the same classes as me."

"Great!" Relief washed over the young boy as he realized that he wouldn't be left in the dark on what to do with the situation at hand. "How about we go and get you some water and then we go look for Tanaka? I'm sure we can find him, he lives here after all. We can get you feeling a bit better and then we can figure out what to do from there, okay?"

"That sounds nice...I don't drink normally, I don't like it."

"Don't worry. Once we get you some water and ibuprofen, then you will start feeling better. Who knows, I'm sure he has something to eat here. Nishinoya and Tanaka tend to keep the place stocked to the brim when it comes to parties. I bet they keep the pantry that filled even when they weren't planning a party. Those guys could eat an entire banquet themselves and still be ready for seconds."

Sugawara smiled as he heard the soft sounds of your laugh echo in the small bathroom. He hoped he would be able to hear it more, even if only for a little bit. He may only know you for this day but he still wanted to see you smile. Tears and a frown didn't suit your beautiful face.

As the man offered his hand, you had no idea that it would be the hand that you would be holding for years to come. It would be the hand that gave you what you always dreamed of - a wedding ring.

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mhalachai · 3 years

Text

advance snippet: Updating Wednesdays on Patreon (The Untamed)

So. Do I need to write an Untamed modern!AU with a college twist (Lan Xichen is a music professor in Canada) in which Wei Wuxian attempts to self-therapy himself by creating a graphic novel fantasy AU version of his life (aka the real story of Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation) and Lan Xichen attempts to rebuild his life after a toxic relationship ended? I mean probably not but has that ever stopped me? here’s the intro snippet we’ll see how things go.

(Title is tentatively Updating Wednesdays on Patreon because i don’t know what to call this thing)

The first day of August finds Lan Xichen in a coffee shop, tinkering with the syllabus for his new music theory course, when his phone pings with a message.

> Lan Wangji: Brother.

> Lan Wangji: Wei Ying has asked me to inform you that he will be publishing the first collection of pages in his new graphic novel on Patreon this afternoon.

Lan Xichen smiles at Lan Wangji's tone. For all that his little brother is more verbose in electronic communication than verbal, he's always so exact.

> To Lan Wangji: Can't wait! What's it about?

The little cursor blinks for a while as Lan Wangji continues to type. Lan Xichen just hopes that his brother-in-law's creative enthusiasm isn't running up against Lan Wangji's sensibilities.

Finally, a reply appears.

> Lan Wangji: Wei Ying wants me to tell you that it is completely fictional.

This gives Lan Xichen pause. Why on earth would Wei Wuxian, or Lan Wangji himself for that matter, need to make that declaration?

> Lan Wangji: It is a high fantasy xianxia story.

Before Lan Xichen can ask why that is causing this odd message exchange, another notification pops up on his phone.

> Wei Wuxian: Lan Xichen! Lan Zhan types so slow! It's just a different art style I wanted to try out and it snowballed from there!

> Wei Wuxian: I know you follow me on Patreon so you're going to get the notification this afternoon so I wanted to warn you hahaha

> Wei Wuxian: All names and places are purely fictional. I don't really have a sword.

Another message arrives, with all the information Lan Xichen needs.

> Lan Wangji: This matters a great deal with Wei Ying.

Lan Xichen smiles at his brother's words. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian have been together since their junior year of high school, through a great deal of personal difficulties on both sides, and are still as fiercely protective of each other as ever. He loves them both for it.

> To Lan Wangji: Thank you for the information. I'm sure it will be great.

> To Wei Wuxian: Can't wait to see it! Anything you do is always great.

No more messages arrive, so Lan Xichen goes back to considering how to change the quiz structure of his musical theory class to avoid a marking crisis with the evaluation of his ensemble class.

Finally, as Lan Wangji gathers up his papers to leave, one last message comes in on his phone.

> Lan Wangji: Thank you for your support. We all appreciate it.

Attached to the message is a photo taken of Lan Wangji's family, he and Wei Wuxian holding Lan Yuan between them. The toddler grins at the camera, his arms around Wei Wuxian's neck. Wei Wuxian's looks at the camera, dark circles under his eyes like he's working through the night again, while Lan Wangji only has eyes for his husband.

It's so wholesome and loving that a sliver of pain rakes through Lan Xichen's heart. He's happy for his brother. His brother deserves the world. Lan Wangji deserves being loved, and to love.

Not everyone gets that. Sometimes, that falls apart.

Sometimes, for some people, love is just an illusion.

Lan Xichen tucks his phone away and leaves the coffee shop.

He gets home mid-afternoon, and spends a while stowing away the groceries he picked up on his walk. The neighbourhood has several Greek and Persian markets and he's able to buy most of what he needs on foot, saving the Chinese markets in Richmond for his weekly dim sum brunches with Lan Wangji's family when he can borrow the use of Lan Wangji's sensible and economical mini-van.

He doesn't drive any more, not since—

Lan Xichen stops and puts down the bag of avocados. His mind is a funny place, bringing up the oddest things at the most inconvenient of times.

He doesn't drive anymore. He doesn't need to, using the bus and the odd taxi to transport his instruments up to the university for performances. The public transit system is so much better.

Safer.

He goes back to putting away the vegetables, pulls out a cookbook (new, spine uncreased, bought for him by Lan Qiren for his birthday) and opens it at random. He's never had coconut curry salmon before, but he has all the ingredients.

Trying new things. He's supposed to be trying new things.

The recipes says it will only take half an hour to make, so he goes up to his office and turns on his computer to check his work email. The message fly fast and furious, some about the new department head, some about class enrollment, a few from students asking if they can get onto his waitlist. He replies to the most urgent, files the rest, then checks his personal email.

The notification from Wei Wuxian's Patreon is up, so Lan Xichen clicks it.

Then he sits back, frankly impressed. He's seen Wei Wuxian's comic style progress since the boy was drawing silly cartoons to entertain Lan Wangji in history class, but even he wasn't prepared for this.

The art is gorgeous. Stylized figures, intricate period costuming, rich backgrounds – it's truly a work of art.

Then he gets a better look the two characters' faces, and laughs out loud. It's Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, clear as day, with long hair and flowing robes. Wei Wuxian's even managed to capture that exasperated-yet-fond look Lan Wangji has whenever Wei Wuxian is being particularly loud.

The introduction is even better. "Join our hero Lan Wangji and dashing rogue Wei Wuxian as they battle deadly monsters and forge a path with demonic cultivation!"

Wei Wuxian hasn't even changed their names. True, he uses his mother's surname professionally, so Cangse Ying can't be easily tracked back, but still.

Lan Xichen wonders for a moment if Lan Wangji is okay with this, but then he notices that the project text is available in both English and in Chinese, with the Chinese written in Lan Wangji's style.

They worked on this together, then.

Trying not to think about why that makes his chest feel funny, Lan Xichen opens to the first page--

-- Which features a bruised and bloodied Wei Wuxian falling off a cliff while a horrified Lan Wangji screams after him.

Confused, Lan Xichen makes sure he hasn't accidentally read the last page first. No, this is the first. Still a little baffled, he clicks to the next page, sees the stylized banner that reads six years ago and relaxes. This is Wei Wuxian's style of using flashbacks to interrupt the narrative flow. Lan Xichen spent most of Lan Wangji's university years hearing his brother's despair for Wei Wuxian's artistic choices in essay form.

But enough about the past. Lan Xichen settles in to read the first chapter of the story, where Wei Wuxian and his siblings (Jiang Yanli drawn lovingly, Jiang Cheng with a bigger frown and more menacing eyebrows than Lan Xichen remembers) traveled to the Cloud Recesses (the sarcastic nickname Wei Wuxian gave to Lan Qiren's West Vancouver mansion) for cultivator lectures. Lan Xichen is there on the page, too, drawn taller and far more imposing than he is in real life.

The first encounter between Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji is fantastical and improbable and, according to Lan Xichen's recollection, almost completely accurate. Wei Wuxian had mouthed off at Lan Wangji at the weekend orientation camp for their new arts high school, Lan Wangji glared the boy into submission, then later that night when Wei Wuxian tried to sneak back onto school grounds with alcohol, he and Lan Wangji had gotten into a fight. Verbal, instead of with swords, and without the supernatural murder victims, but Lan Xichen remembered everything else from Lan Wangji's indignant recitation on his return home.

He keeps reading, enjoying the art and the lyrical narration, and keeps enjoying it right up to the scene when Nie Huaisang appears on the page to offer Lan Qiren a present, Meng Yao standing right behind him.

Lan Xichen doesn't remember standing up, but here he is, two feet away from his computer, heart pounding. He hadn't—Why—

What was Meng Yao doing in a story about Wei Wuxian's high school years?

Taking a deep breath, Lan Xichen makes himself return to his desk. As far as he knew, he was the one who introduced Meng Yao to Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, when the boys were in university and after he and Meng Yao started dating--

Lan Xichen can feel his heartbeat slow, as he tries to breathe. He needs to stop this foolishness over Meng Yao. They dated before living together for a while, that was all. They broke up. It happens to people all the time.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were in college for most of that time, anyway, living their lives. They barely knew Meng Yao, even if Wei Wuxian's sister married Meng Yao's half-brother. They couldn't know how badly Lan Xichen had messed up their relationship, how terrible he had been to live with. It was his fault that—

Stop.

It's over. In the past. A story that has Meng Yao as a minor character isn't going to mess with Lan Xichen's head. He's not going to let it.

He exhales and makes himself look back at the screen.

Meng Yao only shows up a few more times. For some reason, he's the only character who isn't tagged with his own name. He's there handing over the present to Lan Qiren, standing in front of Nie Huaisang when the Wens arrive, then in two last panels in which he tells the on-screen Lan Xichen that he has to return to Nie Mingjue's side.

Lan Xichen's stomach sours. He and Nie Mingjue had been close, before Meng Yao came into Lan Xichen's life. After that, Lan Xichen hadn't had much time for anyone else. That was normal, Meng Yao always said. People in love only needed each other.

Lan Xichen picks up his phone, then puts it down. He can't ask Lan Wangji about this. It would be weird. Wei Wuxian must just be making artistic narrative choices.

The chapter ends soon after, with Wen Qing and Wen Ning welcomed grudgingly into Cloud Recesses. The next chapter is due up in two weeks, the page declares, and welcomes any comments or feedback. A few people are already posting, gushing over the art work and discussing the teaser from the opening page.

Wanting to be supportive, Lan Xichen writes a small review, complimenting the artistic style, the intricacies of the outfits, poses a query as to the different colour palettes between the first page (dark, red, menacing) and the flashback scenes in Cloud Recesses (light, airy, hopeful), then translates the comment into English and posts both versions up. If Lan Wangji is going though all the trouble of ensuring a bilingual experience, then he will too.

He should go start dinner, he really should, but some part of him is drawn back to the first panel in which Meng Yao appears. He's shorter than Lan Xichen remembers in life, the long hair and braids suiting his face.

It's been so long since Lan Xichen last saw Meng Yao. He's not sure what he's thinking. Is he wistful? Mournful? Sad?

He doesn't know. He never knows what he feels about Meng Yao, which was the problem. He's not normal about feelings. Even Lan Wangji, whose brain is a unique and complicated thing, looking for order and reason and patterns in an illogical and messy world, loves fiercely, feels passionately. Maybe he got all the love in the family, and Lan Xichen got stuck with the stunted and undergrown heart.

Stirring, he pages back to the first appearance of his on-screen twin. The Lan Xichen on the screen looks patient, kind, a smile hiding behind his eyes.

He hadn't realized this is how Wei Wuxian sees him.

He picks up his phone.

> To Wei Wuxian: What an incredible achievement! The art is amazing!

> To Wei Wuxian: Where is the story from? As it's a work of fiction and has nothing to do with your real life ;)

> Wei Wuxian: Oh hahahha the story is a collaboration of a bunch of ideas! I can't tell u more (sworn to secrecy by my collaborators) but so glad you like it!!!!!!

> To Lan Wangji: Did you do the writing? I love the dialogue.

> Lan Wangji: Wei Wuxian did most of the English. I made it better and did the translation.

> To Lan Wangji: Have you told uncle about this project?

> Lan Wangji: He prefers to speak of my composition achievements.

Lan Xichen puts his phone down and rubs his eyes. The old tension between Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji never goes away. It started in high school with Lan Qiren's disapproval of Wei Wuxian, continued into university with Lan Qiren's disapproval of Wei Wuxian as well as Lan Wangji's decision to attend a local university for musical studies instead of going to Julliard in Lan Xichen's footsteps, and outrage at the news that Lan Wangji asked Wei Wuxian to marry him before they even finished their undergraduate degrees.

The resulting years had been a long-standing cold war, with Lan Xichen trying to mediate in the middle. Even the arrival of Lan Yuan on the scene twenty months previous hadn't softened both sides into anything resembling ease.

If Lan Wangji doesn't want to tell their uncle that he and his husband are collaborating on a semi-biographical graphic novel, Lan Xichen isn't going to muddy the waters.

> To Lan Wangji: It sounds like you're enjoying the project.

> Lan Wangji: Working with Wei Ying on any project is enjoyable. I read that couples with young children should try to engage in a mutual hobby outside of parenting.

> To Lan Wangji: Very wise.

He wonders if he should ask about Meng Yao, types out a message to that effect, then deletes it.

> To Lan Wangji: I should start dinner – see you on the weekend for brunch?

>Lan Wangji: Yes.

Lan Xichen puts his phone down. The days are long in August and the sun still bright, but he's tired and he doesn't know why.

anyway that’s where this whole disaster is going. new fandoms are fun.

#the untamed #my writing #teaser snippet of a new story #i have 14000 words written #trying to get is mostly done before popping up on ao3

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vtscasefiles · 3 years

Text

Case File # 321-5

Trigger warning: blood, gore, violence, death, firearms, injury, rape mention

Case begun: 5/09/20**

Case Concluded: 5/11/20**

Case Locale: [REDACTED], Florida

Marked as Closed

I arrived in Florida, the humidity already fucking with my sinuses. How anyone can live in this swampy shithole I will never understand. But I was offered a job, and my bank account was practically beating me over the head with it’s need to be filled. The pay was too good to turn down, so I loaded up my gear and headed out.

What I wasn’t expecting was a fucking ghost pirate. I mean, of all things, how fucking cliché can you get? The client, Rosie [REDACTED], welcomed me with that famed “southern hospitality” that I’ve heard so much of.

“You the girl with the gun? I expected you to be bigger.”

Fuckin’ peachy. “Yes. I’m the girl with the gun. You got a haunting problem?” I replied, trying not to let my irritation get the better of me. I’m fucking 5′9″. I’m not that small. For fuck’s sake, I can bench two hundo with no problem. Why the --

[Editor’s note: this continues for fifteen minutes. For your convenience I have removed VT’s rant.]

After getting a brief rundown of the case, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Everything pointed to a simple haunting, it wasn’t something I was considering a challenge, or even something that’d take longer than a few hours.

After doing this job, you think you’ve seen just about all the SC* has to offer. My two best friends are a lich and a witch. Yes, they rhyme, shut up. Point being is that I have never seen a haunting manifest on such a massive scale. Usually it’s restrained to a building, or a patch of land, but this...the whole fucking coast line was haunted. It wasn’t even a Cluster**, it was one. Singular. Spirit.

My first day, as the usual, was spent at the library. The spirit in question, one Captain Fresni, was an infamous pirate in the seventeen hundreds. Played a role in the American Revolution, albeit a small one. According to the books I’d found (mostly useless, but I did manage to glean some insight), his ship The Crooked Jess, was riddled with canon fire by the British. Captain Fresni, a violent fighter if ever there was one, realized there was no way out...lit every barrel of gunpowder he had on board and rammed his ship into the oncoming fleet. The following explosion wiped out three ships, packed with soldiers and set fire to another six.

I was impressed. If the spirit was Captain Fresni, as Rose claimed, then it could simply be a case of the body dying so suddenly and violently that the spirit didn’t realize he was dead. There was one passage that stood out, I won’t repeat it due to it being hella long, but in summation it stated that near the southern tip of Florida there was a hidden cove that served as the pirate captain’s base. Might as well start there.

It was around 9pm on the tenth before I even stepped foot in the cove. Immediately, the air changed. Despite it being disgustingly humid, the air turned frigid and dry. I walked up and down the coast to find a spot that wasn’t freezing, but to no avail. The whole place was a spook zone. We’re talking a good three hundred acres of land completely under the spirit’s influence. Even by a Cluster’s standards, that’s a massive area.

This area was mostly undisturbed, being a historical site. Being in the profession I am, meant that didn’t mean a roasty pile of dogshit. If I got caught disturbing anything here, it only meant one thing: prosecution, if not a bullet through my head. I’m aware of what my ethnic background means; prejudice, racism, outright hate. Hell, it’s dangerous to drive, let alone stand somewhere that I shouldn’t. So I try to be subtle. Try not to pack too much ordinance. Today I only had my duffel bag full of Elinor’s*** special ammo. I’d say it “kills” ghosts, but you can’t kill a spirit. You can however, force it to reconcile with it’s past.

The worst part about this job was I was going to wind up in the water. I hate swimming. Forget what chlorine does to the dye in my hair (red. Blood red. Always.), but just the thought of driving across the country with my clothes soaked in salty water was already putting my teeth on edge. Looks like I’d be hitting a thrift shop on the way home.

I dropped my duffel bag on the beach and sat in the sand next to it, pulling off my dad’s old combat jacket and stowing it inside. I did a quick inventory. I hadn’t brought anything major. Salt. Blessed water (courtesy of Ramona****). A black beeswax candle and, my trusty companion, Peace.

Peace is the name I’ve given to my custom-made revolver. All together, the setup weighs about three pounds. Each part bears a custom engraving that’ll combat just about any supernatural force...even so, there are some things that Peace can’t solve...even with the right ammo. But I had one solution sitting in the backseat of my car: a can of kerosene. If bullets don’t solve the problem, a liberal application of fire will.

The time was midnight, the opening of the “Witching Hour”. I had until 3am to get something. Anything. The spirit wasn’t answering to any of the usual callouts (their name, questions, requests for an audience), so I settled in on the beach to doze. Wasn’t much else to do.

Mother fucker, I wish I hadn’t.

When I woke up, it was to the freezing cold iron around my wrists. The bob and weave that told me I was on the sea. The air smelled of something...something that every fucking time I smell it, I almost lose my lunch.

Corpses.

The deck outside my cell was slick with blood and viscera. I’ve seen my share of gore, don’t get me wrong, but this was a massacre. What was worse...it looked (and smelled) fresh. The good captain had been busy, it’d seemed. What began as a simple haunting was quickly turning into something more sinister. Rosie hadn’t mentioned that the spirit was violent...though I should have assumed, given the amount posted on the job. Even still, this was...a little more than I’d prepared for.

But first there was the matter of the shackles on my wrists.

Lockpicking is an artform that every PE invests time in learning. But that’s usually deadbolts or doors made post 1970. The manacles on my wrists (though they looked brand new) were easily something seen in the eighteenth century. There was even a maker’s mark next to one of the keyholes. I’ll spare you the details on how I got out, but my thumbs ache to all hell.

The second I laid hands on the bars to my cell, they swung open...I’d never been locked in. This worried me. The spirit wanted me free...the manacles were just a precaution. Each step I made was met with the squishy splort of combat boot on viscera. I took my time, as I didn’t relish the thought of slipping and falling into the mess beneath my boots. Proud to say that I didn’t fall. Not once.

[Editor’s note: judging by the stains on VT’s clothes, she fell.]

As far as I could tell, I was on the lowest deck. The stairway didn’t lead up into the fresh air of day, but rather into what I assumed was a galley. Tables and benches had been scattered, and cooking implements rusted on their hooks. Dangling from one of those hooks was my firearms...just waiting for me.

I expected a trap, I anticipated the trap. By that I mean I picked up a piece of busted bench and hurled it at my gun. It fell off the hook with a loud clatter which had me willing myself to fade into the shadows. Nothing. Nothing but the creak and groan of the ship.

Well, I say nothing, but I distinctly heard laughter from the top deck. Feminine, bright laughter. I picked my gun up off the floor, holstered it and climbed the stairs.

There was no ghost crew, as I’d anticipated...but at the helm was a sight that still gives my heart a jolt. It’s no secret that I’m gay. I love women. But what I saw at the helm...fuck me, sideways. She was tall. 6′6″ if she was an inch. Her raven hair captured the moonlight and practically sucked it in. Her breasts were bared to the wind, heavy tattoos that seemed to glow covered just about every inch of bared flesh. I’d have thought her living if not for one thing: her eyes. Pitch black like the void.

“Ahoy, mate.” she purred, setting my teeth to clench. “Found you on my little hideaway, snoozin’ like an infant. Come to join Captain Fresni’s crew, little pet?”

“I ain’t your pet.” I snapped, glowering up at the spirit. “You’ve been killing people, Captain...and everything I’ve read says that you’re a man. Are you actually Captain Fresni, or is that just some title you picked up?”

“Funny how men’ll give the most vicious fighters a cock in death that they never had in life, hm?” the pirate snickered. I took notice then that her arms were like two thick pythons that, any other time, I’d like to see just how much weight they could hold. “I offered my services to old Georgie and he thought me funny. At least until I broke his nose.”

“Georgie? As in Washington?”

“Ye know of him? Interesting. He refusing the afterlife, too?”

Everything I’d assumed about this spirit was wrong. Captain Fresni wasn’t a man, for one. Not to mention she knew very well that she was dead. That still didn’t answer the most pertinent question on my mind. “The bodies...or what’s left of them. Was that you?”

“Aye.” she smiled, wickedly, but offered no further explanation. I was being baited.

“Can I ask why?”

“Ye just did.” a hard spin of the wheel almost sent me tumbling. “But I suppose I can oblige a pretty little thing like you.” I fucking hate being demeaned. And all attraction for this undead bitch was flying out the window faster than you could say “eat my ass”.

I can’t remember most of her explanation. Looking back, now...it’s like the whole of that night is just a drunken fever dream. What stands out to me is her reasoning. “I only murder the dregs, girlie. Rapists, mostly. Kidnappers. Violence done to women is met with brutal retaliation. It’s the simplest way to clean up this world, savvy?”

Oh, I was savvy. Quite savvy. If anything, I agreed with her and her method. Trash like that shouldn’t be allowed to breathe, let alone exist. “If that’s all you’re doing, Cap, then I see no reason we shouldn’t go our separate ways. You have your work and I have mine.”

“Aye? And just what is your work, lovely?” I didn’t detect any further demeaning playfulness...only curiosity.

“I’m a PE. A Paranormal Eliminator. Usually, I’d have to ask or make you pass on, but as it stands...I think we can say live and let live. Well...live and let un-live.” she’d laughed at that. A warm sound that had my guts twisting around my stomach like some sort of horny serpent.

“So, you came out all this way to end the dread Captain Fresni...only to find a kindred spirit, is that what I’m hearing?” she asked, grinning like the Cheshire Cat with a Glasgow grin. “And now you want to leave, just like that. Don’t a get a kiss or a nice romp? I think I’m owed something after all. I didn’t kill you for trespassing.”

That raised my hackles. Again, this pillar of muscle was underestimating me. What I’d fought, what I’d killed. For fuck’s sake, I’ve killed enough Wendigos to put half the men in my profession to shame. There was that weird case where the woman who hired me was fucking the Wendigo, but...that’s another story for another time.

[Editor’s Note: We’ve never discussed the Wendigo-coitus case. I sincerely want to hear it.]

“Fuck you. You got the drop on me, like a coward.” I regretted the words the instant they left my mouth. I was on her ship and at her mercy. She could sink this ship and I had no idea which way shore was...let alone the hazards that went with swimming in open water.

Instead she’d only laughed. “Little girl, I’m a pirate. I’ve no intent to fight head on when I can sneak up on someone. Honor is a man’s game. It’s what gets them killed, more often than not.” Again, I agreed. I’d put enough bullets in the back of a head to know that stealth is preferable than a face-to-face fight.

“Look, I lost my temper. Can we just...end this and I can go home? We both agree on your method, and I see no reason to stop what you’re doing. Sure, the “authority” of the living world won’t like it...but no one likes them, so they can eat a steaming pile of shit.” I said, frowning. “I don’t want a fight. I just want to get paid and go home.”

The look about the spirit changed, marginally. The tattoos seemed to be rippling along her flesh(?) and her smile faded into a frown. “Missy, we still have a glaring problem we’ve yet to address. I’m one woman...and I need a crew. So, unless you’ve got a solution to that particular snag, you’re it.”

All my like for this spirit (begrudging as some of it was) vanished in an instant. “So I’m being kidnapped.” I responded, feeling my heart start to hammer in my ears. “Just like those men you killed. So, what I’m hearing is, you’re no better.”

“Watch your words, girl. Your pretty face won’t save you from my blade.” she’d snarled. It took all that was in me not to balk, though my teeth desperately wanted to chatter.

“I’m using your own words against you, Captain.” I responded, hoping I sounded calmer than I felt. “Don’t blame me if they don’t line up the way you want.”

“One more word out of you -- “

“I’ll give you two: get. Fucked.” that had torn it. The rippling gave way to something that I’d come to expect. This was no run of the mill spirit: Captain Fresni was either a wraith or a revenant. The only real difference between the two was the level of violence capable. A wraith tends to hunt one person, or their family. A revenant hunts whoever they want...and now I was on the list. I couldn’t fight her here, not out in the open. She’d tear me to shreds. Already her jaw was gaping, revealing razor teeth. Her nails, cut short, were lengthening into something akin to talons...and believe me when I say those things hurt.

I feel no shame in saying I sprinted below deck and ducked into the galley proper. I wish I hadn’t. She wasn’t just killing people, she was eating them. Body parts, half chewed, dangled from the ceiling and littered the ground. My hand clapped over my mouth and nose to keep the smell out and my dinner in. I heard her footsteps and, as silently as I could manage, I checked my firearm. Peace was still locked, cocked and ready to rock. Well, not cocked. Gun safety, kids.

I pulled one of Elinor’s special bullets out of the cylinder. What made these so special is that, instead of lead, bone served as the projectile. The easiest way to deal with something dead is by using something dead against it. I don’t ask where Elinor gets her bone, and I think I’ll be perfectly happy to continue not knowing.

[Editor’s note: I know. It’s horrific.]

“Little pet, little pet, where are you?” she crooned. Well, I say crooned...more like...rattled. A revenant’s physiology is strange, but once they reveal their form it’s almost as if their bodies begin to decay. I peeked around the corner to see her back facing me. I took aim and...nothing. My gun clicked loud enough to sound like a scream in an empty hallway, but no roar of igniting gunpowder. She turned and...smiled. I think. “There you are.”

“Here I am.” I responded, standing on shaking legs. “Soup’s on, Captain.” she ran at me, talons held out at her sides like sabers. I did the only sane thing I could think of: I ducked as she swung. Luckily, the big swing didn’t hit me. Unluckily, she had another hand. Claw. Whatever.

So, there I was, a talon embedded in my shoulder and blood gushing from the wound like a waterfall. A little known fact about revenant wounds: leave the talon in. If it’s withdrawn the wound will immediately fester and become gangrenous. A lot of PEs have died that way.

I slammed the barrel of my gun against the base of her claw and it snapped off. She screamed her pain and rage and took another swipe at my torso. I barely managed to get far enough back in time. The fact I had to compensate for a long talon still imbedded in my shoulder didn’t mean much, as I was operating off a cubic fuckload of adrenaline. She did however manage to shred my tanktop. Which sucked, because I loved that thing. Said “Boss Ass Bitch” on it and everything...I guess I could see if Ramona would make me another one...

[Editor’s note: RIP tank top. Ramona is making another one at the time of writing.]

I sprinted past her, she’d over balanced and given me time to escape. I went down, back to the cells. I was soaked in a cold sweat by now and thankful that my hair tie had held, despite my panicked movement. I smoothed the strands away from my sweat soaked face and looked for a place to hide. Nothing was presenting itself...but an idea struck. It was a stupid idea. A terrible idea. I ran into a cell and pressed my back to the wall.

When Fresni reappeared, she was smiling. “Ran out of room to run, little rat?”

“Seems that way.” I panted. My head was spinning from the loss of blood. Thankfully, that brief moment I spent pressed against the wall had redoubled my courage...and helped me remember one little fact. “Look, Cap...I’m dead. We both know it. The second this talon is removed, my life is over...so...I guess I’m askin’ if that place on your crew is still available.”

That shocked her, if only for a moment. “You can’t lie your way out of this one.”

“No lie. Kill me now. I’d rather just go ahead and get it over with, thanks.” I said, praying that this would work. If it didn’t well...you wouldn’t be seeing this, would you?

She approached, brandishing those eight inch talons. She clicked them together, thoughtfully. “Stand still, then.” she snarled as I held my breath. “One through the heart, and it’s all over.”

Three more steps. Two. One. I stepped in and latched onto her arm, and...I bit down. I felt fetid blood fill my mouth and choke me. I immediately began to gag and then...voided my stomach, all over my aggressor.

A revenant’s true power isn’t from the change they make, though it definitely looks it. A revenant is best known for it’s insidious way of making the unreal real...so long as its concentration remains undisturbed.

When I finally finished tossing my cookies, I looked up. No ship in sight. Just a revenant, me and glorious land. The sand was disturbed, probably from all my running, and my blood left trails showing my passage. I’d been running in circles for the last hour...while she just watched.

“Shouldn’t play with your food.” I coughed, wiping my mouth. “It’s how you get killed.” she screeched in rage, her partially coagulated blood oozing from the bite mark I’d left. The talon was still lodged in my shoulder. I reached for my gun, ready to put an end to this only to pull out... “A fucking banana? Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

She roared and charged. My weapon, my baby was strapped to the rotten leather of her belt. She’d touched it. No one touched my weapon except Ray***** and myself. Not even Ramona.

That pissed me off in a way that nothing else does.

Naturally, I charged straight for her. She took a swipe with her injured arm, but instead of dodging out of the way, I leapt into it. She made contact, but only with her palm. I felt one of my ribs crack and gasped in pain, pure instinct was the only thing that drove my fist into the shredded flesh on her arm, courtesy of my teeth. She balked and I snatched.

Peace was in my hand, albeit barely. She noticed and lunged again, sending us both into the sand. Her pirate nature showed in the way her head collided with my nose, sending fresh gouts of blood over the both of us. She thought me stunned. An easy kill. She thought wrong.

“Any last words, my pretty?” she cackled, her maw open wide. She wasn’t just going to kill me...I’d pissed her off enough that she was going to bite me. My death wouldn’t just be painful, but slow...and my soul would erode right along with my body.

“Yeah.” I croaked, feeling the end of my stamina quickly approaching. “Choke on it.” I rammed Peace as hard as I possibly could into that gaping maw, hearing her gargle in rage around it. My wrist jerked as I fired once, twice, three times. Bam. Bam. Bam. A faint gargle, a twitch...and about two-hundred pounds collapsed on right on my cracked rib, finishing the job her arm had started and broke the damned thing.

I wheezed beneath the re-corpse for...ten, fifteen minutes? When I finally managed the strength to push her off of me, I immediately emptied the last three rounds into the ruined mess of her skull. Say what you will about my methodology, but I like to be thorough.

It wouldn’t have done just to leave her body there, for a mundane to see. The SC likes it’s secrecy and to risk exposing it? There was no faster way to end a career than to leave a loose end behind. I made the long trek back to the car and returned with the kerosene can. I stood by the raging fire until there was nothing but ash and blackened bone...though I know a certain lich who could make use of revenant bone.

All in all, a happy ending. Had a vampire doc fix up my shoulder to avoid dying of infection. Rosie paid me what I was owed and Elinor bought the bone off of me for further profit. Sure, my shoulder still hurts so damned bad that I can barely lift it, but...thanks to Ramona, it’ll be healed up in no time. Probably.

Yo-ho-ho, mother fucker. Case closed.

Editor’s farewell: This is the first case file VT asked I upload. It’s one she’s particularly proud of and one with a satisfactory ending. There may be names or terminology that you are unfamiliar with, but I have taken the time to star each of them as to explain. They are as follows:

SC*: Supernatural Community. This is self explanatory. Includes all beings, regardless of death, undeath or birth. IE vampires, ghosts, revenants, werewolves

Cluster**: A colloquial term amongst PEs. Used in reference to a small locale with a massive collection of spirits. Usually all working as a coordinated group.

Elinor***: Elinor Lyktor. Lich. Proprietress of Ellie’s, a shop frequented by PEs for their gear. Specializes in Osteomancy.

Ramona****: Ramona Torrez. Witch. A close friend of VT’s. Offers support, healing and consultation. A good 75% of VT’s equipment is blessed by Ramona.

Ray*****: Raleigh Kane. Gunsmith. Took the name Ray from her father, proprietress of Ray’s Armory. Forced into the Supernatural Community by VT during a case. Since, she has dedicated her craft to making weapons to deal with the malignant forces that threaten the community as a whole. Extensively researches customers and will not sell her works to those she does not trust.

#tw: violence #tw: injury #tw: blood #tw: gun play #tw: gun violence #tw: gore #tw: death #tw: dark content #tw: rape mention #horror #pirates #ghosts #VTverse #writing #OC

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whatcouldgowrong-ohthat · 4 years

Text

Us and Andie Ch. 3

Summary: Bucky works as an Avenger because it’s what’s right. He feels he has sins he’ll never be able to make up for, but he’ll spend the rest of his life trying. However, his life takes an unexpected turn when he comes across Andie, the daughter of recently divorced Y/N. The life he had once “maintained” in hopes of surviving changes as his heart warms for a tough-as-nails nurse and her wonderful daughter.

Pairing: Bucky x singleparent!Reader

Word Count: 5130 (Guys, this just keeps getting higher and higher, wtf)

Warnings: Nothing. Guys, this is fluff. I mean, there will be angst in later chapters, but not yet. I’ll warn ya when we get there.

Masterlist

Silence had a way of filling a room and making it feel heavy. For the Avengers, a team that was constantly outspoken and filled with energy, that silence was deafening and suffocating. The only person who ever seemed to find true peace with it was Bucky. But now, everyone was silent for a different reason.

They were watching Andie.

The girl had so easily snuck out from under the nose of five heroes and managed to evade a team of them for hours. It took a Hulk with a craving to find her again.

And that alone was enough to impress Tony. He was highly amused by the girl and found her brutal honesty as refreshing as being around Happy or Rhodey. He hadn’t realized it was a quality he respected so much until he was fine with a kid behaving in such a manner. But he knew Andie wasn’t supposed to be here and after an update from F.R.I.D.A.Y., he realized how out of hand everything had gotten. So now, he watched as Bruce and Andie kept up their game, listening to Peter and Sam explain the last several hours of their day.

He shrugged, turning back to them. “Well, I called her mom and she’s on her way.”

“You know her mom?” Steve raised an eyebrow and Tony laughed.

“Uh…F.R.I.D.A.Y.” Tony pointed up to the ceiling and Steve knew in that moment that he should have already assumed. F.R.I.D.A.Y. was extremely good at getting information.

“So she’s heading this way?” Steve glanced back at Andie, arms crossed and brow furrowed. Tony knew that look all too well.

“Is there something wrong with that, Cap?”

“No…I…” He trailed off and Tony snorted, shaking his head and going back to his work.

“Keep your secrets, Old man. But make sure Manchurian Candidate over there doesn’t explode. I really don’t want to have to clean this place up.”

Steve chuckled. The more forgiving Tony was as time passed, the more he teased Bucky. And it showed a much needed progress for his two friends. He wanted his team to be a family. To be able to work together and rely on one another. That being said, he turned his attention back to his oldest friend.

Bucky was sitting on a stool, leg bouncing restlessly but eyes never wavering. He was absolutely fixated on Andie. It seemed the concern he had was clear to everyone in the room except for him. But no one dared comment on it. Instead, he let himself smile as Andie turned over an empty bag that was once filled with what was hers and Bruce’s favorite candy. He rose to his feet, finally earning the kid’s attention. “Come on, Andie. Can throw that away and wait for your mom in the living room.”

She nodded and hopped off, taking his hand in hers before following him out of the room. When the doors finally closed, there was nothing but silence. Everyone had watched how easily she had listened to him. How easily she had touched him. And there was no fear from her. No tension from him.

“She’s got him wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?” Sam asked, already knowing the answer.

Rather than answer Sam’s question, Tony asked, “Why do you think I called her mom?”

Steve immediately looked at him.

Still, Tony didn’t look up. The only sign of ‘guilt’ on his face was the smirk that was cast in a glow emanating from the iron-suit.

-.-

Bucky sat in one of the awkward, too-stiff chairs near the foyer. It seemed Tony knew the Avengers should expect guests and had this area set up for just that. Right now, he had Andie situated on the couch with a pair of Falcon’s goggles in her hands. She had tried to put them on to the best of her abilities, jumping around as if she was about to take flight. Unlike most kids he had crossed paths with these days, she was heavily relying on her imagination. He wandered if it was a choice or because her family didn’t have the means for her to have access to technology.

“Kid, take a seat. Your mom’s going to be here soon.”

She had been hanging over the back of the couch, but at the title ‘kid’, she looked back at him. “I thought you weren’t going to call me that anymore.”

“I thought your name was ‘Andie’.”

She frowned, taking off the goggles and tossing them on the table between them. “It is.”

“No. According to your mom, your name is ‘Lauren’.”

Her shoulders tensed at that name. He couldn’t help but be curious as to how often she actually heard it. Why did she hate it so much? “You don’t get to call me that.”

“I don’t?”

“You’re not my parent.”

Bucky leaned back in his chair, rubbing his jaw and the back of his neck. He noticed the way she stared at the table between them. It seemed the goofy kid everyone found utterly adorable was no where in sight. He’d overstepped. Tapping his foot, he found himself watching the way she picked at her nails. They were short and he realized she probably chewed them. A nervous habit. “I don’t go by my first name either.”

“I know.” Her voice was soft as she tucked a leg into her chest. She changed her mind as she started playing with her laces. “You go by a nickname from your middle name. Same as me.”

“More like what you’re doing is the same as me. I am older.”

She giggled at that and the small smile was enough to ease at least some more minor worries.

“Was it your dad that named you?”

She nodded against her knee, the action stiff and awkward, but enough of an answer for him.

“And Andromeda?”

Andie looked at him, finally meeting his gaze as she gave him one of his favorite smiles. “Look it up.” Bucky chuckled, crossing his arms and slouching more in his seat. She tilted her head, cheek resting on her bony leg. “Mom says bad posture screws up your back.”

“Oh, is that right?” He raised an eyebrow. “And what does she say about putting your shoes on the couch, huh?”

“She says don’t.”

Both immediately turned their attention to the front doors of the foyer. Y/N was standing there in scrubs and a hoodie, exhaustion even more prominent than the night he had seen her. Was it because she had gotten off a shift? Or was she always so tired?

“What the hell is she doing here?” Y/N crossed the foyer, gaze settled intently on Bucky as he rose to his feet. “I had Peter taking care of her and – “

“And the kid has an internship here. He’s friends with the Avengers.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, not entirely sure why she was angry. Sure, she hadn’t known where Andie was, but she was safe. There was no where else she could have been that would have made her more so. “Steve and Sam saw them at the park and – “

“I don’t care. That’s my kid. And Peter knows better. Just because you’re a bunch of heroes doesn’t mean – “

“Mom…”

“Not right now, Andie,” Y/N murmured, shoulders slumping. The only reason she was even remotely functional right now was because of her anger. It was keeping her awake. And she still had a long drive to get them back to Brooklyn and return her coworker’s vehicle. And she still had work tomorrow night. Crossing her arms, she looked back at Bucky and said, “She could have been with every single superhero you know. I don’t care. The fact that I didn’t know where my child was, that’s what matters. I didn’t know that she was safe. For all I knew, her fucking father – “

“Mom, I’m okay.”

“Andie.” Y/N exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. It was then that Bucky saw the tears in her eyes. He watched as Andie reached across the back of the couch and grabbed her hand, squeezing gently. “It took a call from Tony Stark for me to find out where my kid was. Do you have any idea how terrifying that is for someone like me?”

Someone like her?

Oh. A single parent. A single mother.

“No. I don’t know. And I’m sorry.”

Y/N watched him, studying his features and it seemed she believed him because she simply nodded. This reaction to his presence was so different from their last interaction that he wasn’t sure what to think. He would’ve thought she’d be happy that Andie was with good guys, but it seemed she didn’t care. She really did just want to know for herself that her kid was safe. He thought back to the community they lived in. The hospital she worked at. It wasn’t even one of the better hospitals that could provide good pay. It made him wonder – what had happened to their family?

“You must be Y/N Y/L/N.”

The trio looked back towards the inner workings of the building. There, as if waiting to make a grand entrance, was the rest of the team. Normally they would expect someone to freak out, get excited and ask for autographs, maybe a photo. But not Y/N. No, her gaze fell on Tony, recognizing his voice from their earlier phone call and the numerous times she had heard him on the news.

He walked forward, immediately shaking her hand. Bucky watched the exchange, completely puzzled. There was nothing about this situation that required the whole team and yet even Wanda and Vision were lingering in the background, waiting to get to know these two people.

“Please, don’t introduce yourselves. I’m pretty sure anyone with common sense knows who you are,” Y/N said, smiling at Tony before looking to everyone else.

“Those are our codenames though,” Sam reminded.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Alright.”

Andie grinned as if something really cool was about to happen. She looked at Sam, as if her expression alone told him: You are so wrong.

Pointing one by one, Y/N said, “Sam Wilson. Steve Rogers. Natasha Romanoff. Clint Barton. Bruce Banner. Vision. Wanda Maximoff. Tony Stark.” Her gaze settled on Bucky. “James Buchanan Barnes.”

“Just – “

“Bucky.” The nickname slipped out of hers and Bucky’s mouths together and Steve was barely able to hide his smile.

Andie added, “She knows.”

Y/N chuckled down at her girl, pulling her into a little side hug as she told the team, “You aren’t nearly as anonymous as you would like to believe. Anyone with a computer can find out your actual names and anyone who witnessed Sekovia or the Accords would certainly be reminded.”

“You’re not one of the people who hates us, are you,” Sam asked, earning a shove from Steve. “Look, it is a legitimate question. Especially in our line of work.”

Y/N laughed. It was beautiful and simple and the sound made Bucky smile. He ducked his head, hiding behind loose strands of hair so as to hide any flush that could have appeared. No one seemed to notice. Except for Steve. “I don’t hate any of you. I think all of you mean well and, except for Vision and Thor, you’re human. Humans make mistakes. Humans try their best. With your talents, you’re trying to do some good in the world, right?” She didn’t need an answer. “So it’s not even that I don’t hate you. I can’t.”

Tony smiled at that, looking back at Steve. The two seemed to have their own little conversation, silent to everyone but themselves.

“And on that note,” she said, squeezing Andie before releasing her. “We got to get on the road.”

Tony whipped his head around as Bucky looked up. But both reacted for entirely different reasons. It seemed Andie’s initial joke of playing matchmaker now had two important players: Tony and Steve.

And they were determined to see if maybe there was potential for something.

Nothing wrong with that, right?

“Since we scared you and you have that long drive ahead of you anyway, why don’t you stay for dinner,” Tony offered. The confused look from Bucky didn’t go unnoticed, but it was certainly ignored. “Consider it a peace offering?”

“Please, Mom?”

Y/N offered a weak smile, shaking her head. “I wish we could, but I work tomorrow night and Andie has school.”

“We can take her,” Steve offered, shrugging.

“And there’s plenty of rooms here. You could stay the night. Get some actual sleep instead of worrying about all that traffic,” Natasha added.

Andie’s eyes seemed to light up like a kid at Christmas. “Oh, please! Please, can we, Mom?” She swung off Y/N’s arm, seemingly trying to exhaust her into a yes.

“I – Look, as kind as that is, it really isn’t necessary.”

Peter smiled, knowing exactly where this was coming from. Y/N didn’t like charity. Though May hadn’t told him everything that had happened in Y/N’s divorce, he knew it was messy. He knew she had to pick up a lot of pieces and right now she was just looking out for Andie. She had a lot of pride despite everything. Still…it was okay to accept a nice gesture. It wasn’t pity. It was help. “I was going to stay for dinner. If you want, I can stay the night too and take Andie to school tomorrow.”

The idea of Andie going with someone she was more familiar with made Y/N feel at ease. It was ridiculous. They were superheroes. She should feel perfectly fine with her daughter in their hands, but she didn’t know them. And that made a difference. At least now it did. Turning her gaze back to Andie, she noticed that pleading look in her eyes. Andie was pretty good at reading rooms and not asking for things. She was good at knowing when it wasn’t time to push.

So this must really be something she wanted.

“…Okay.”

-.-

The kitchen was chaotic to say the least. Since the Avengers normally ate out or ordered in, it was odd seeing them try to be so…domestic. It turned out that none of them really knew how to cook. Except for Sam and Wanda.

So now they were trying to put together something that could qualify as a meal for Y/N and Andie.

Y/N watched them from the couch as her daughter tried to settle on a movie. At first, they tried to offer her some of Natasha’s clothes to change into, but she had merely laughed at the idea. She knew she could never fit in Natasha’s clothes and didn’t need that twinge of self-loathing. So instead, Steve leant her a hoodie and sweats. They were baggy on her, but she looked cozy.

Cute, Bucky thought as he sat on the opposite end of the couch.

“Do they need help in there?” Y/N pointed to the kitchen, looking at Bucky and then Steve who had taken up the whole loveseat.

Bucky glanced back to see Clint trying to steal a taste of whatever meat Sam was cooking. When he was swatted away with a spatula, he knew they’d all be fine. “Don’t worry about it. They can handle a meal in the kitchen.” He looked back at Y/N. She was doing her best to be in the corner of the couch, trying to take up as little space as possible as Andie made herself comfortable, using her mother’s stomach as a pillow.

“Buck, you should braid Andie’s hair. It’d probably get her to focus on finding a movie.” Steve was mostly teasing, but it seemed his friend was determined to keep as much space between himself and the family as he could. What was he so afraid of?

Bucky glared at Steve as Andie looked from the captain to him. “Could you?”

“Uh…”

“Andie,” Y/N murmured, tugging at a strand of her hair. “These guys are already doing a lot for us. Don’t – “

“I don’t mind.”

Y/N looked up, her y/e/c eyes meeting his bright blue ones. It really was strange hearing him talk so much, but she was starting to get used to it. She was starting to like it. There was something about his voice that was calming. And here he was, playing to the whims of her little girl. “Are you sure?”

Before he had a chance to answer, Andie was already scrambling out of her mother’s lap and settling in his. He chuckled, dropping his legs from the coffee table in front of him and settling them on the floor. She took off the hat, such a small thing that she hadn’t parted with in three days, and held it out for her mom.

“Guard it with your life,” Andie said, eyes wide and silent promise already being made as Y/N chuckled and took the hat.

Bucky glanced at Y/N, silently asking if it was genuinely okay for him to do this. She simply shrugged. Who was she to deny such a simple and sweet request? Bucky turned back to Andie, gently combing his fingers through her hair. There were only a few tangles and if they hurt, she gave no inkling that that was the case.

Satisfied that her hair would behave for him, Bucky’s nimble fingers started working on her hair. It reminded him of Rebecca. When she was a little girl, she’d always ask Bucky to do her hair and he had gotten rather good at it. It seemed the muscle memory never quite left him.

Meanwhile, Steve looked at Y/N, curious how she was feeling about all of this. Everything about her looked tired and drained, but he was almost certain that she was far from relaxed. He had experience with someone being a single parent and knew that worry was always high on their list. His mom raised him as a single mother, but it was because she was a widow. She had loved her husband with everything. Seeing someone put such stress on themselves willingly made him want to ask why.

“So,” he spoke up. Clearing his throat, he was relieved when Y/N looked his way and seemed calm. “If you don’t mind my asking, how long has it been just you two?”

Bucky jerked his head, glaring at Steve. “She doesn’t have to answer that.” Whether he wanted to know the answer or not, she didn’t owe them an answer. She owed no one an explanation.

Y/N laughed softly at Bucky’s clear irritation towards the comment. “It’s fine. Honestly. Being a single mom, you get those questions every day,” she told Bucky. Looking back at Steve, she answered his question with, Eight years.”

Steve raised an eyebrow as Bucky looked her way. Eight years? Andie had a whole family for such a small period of time. “I – Wow.”

“Anything else you want to know?”

Yes. Why? How often does Andie see her father? Who decided to get the divorce? Was it mutual? Are you on good terms? What is Andie’s father like?

The questions went on and on and on, listing themselves in Bucky’s head. But he didn’t bother asking. It wasn’t his place.

“You like being single?”

Y/N hesitated when she was asked that, looking back to the kitchen. Clint was the one who asked. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and came to the chaise, plopping down on it as he looked at Y/N. Leave it to him to ask such a weird question. But she thought about it for a moment and shrugged. “Does your team?”

“Hell nah,” Sam called from the kitchen. Laughter came from everyone and Bucky couldn’t stop himself from sighing in relief. Leave it to these guys to ask something that was none of their business. “But maybe we should invite Scott over. Try to get you two…What was the word you used to always call it, Steve?”

Steve shifted, cheeks flushing red. “I don’t remember.”

“Fonduing,” Tony answered, earning a burst of giggles from Andie.

“Are you done yet,” she whispered to Bucky. He chuckled, tugging off the hair tie that was located on his wrist. He secured the braid and dropped it against her back. She grinned and touched it, trying to figure out which braid he had done for her.

“Now pick a movie, Rugrat,” he whispered in her ear. “Before the whole team decides to find a date for your mom.”

Andie wrinkled her nose at the very idea, shaking her head. “She’s not supposed to date anybody.” Looking at her mom, she added, “Not yet at least.”

Yet? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

He chuckled and shook his head as he leaned back. Bucky had every reason to believe that she would move back to her mom, but instead, she did just the opposite. Squeezing between him and the end of the couch, she had practically forced him to wrap an arm around her. Again, Bucky looked to Y/N, not sure that this was okay. But instead of anger or worry, she smiled. It seemed she was anything but bothered by the sight.

“Oh, this one!”

The team looked to the screen to see that Andie had picked out a Disney movie. “Treasure Planet.”

“But first,” Wanda called. Several plates glowed red and hovered in the air. Each was filled with food and ready to be snatched. “Let’s eat.”

Andie immediately bolted, jumping over the arm of the couch as most everyone made their way in the same direction. Bucky glanced at the spot she had wedged herself into, suddenly feeling cold. But when he noticed the way Steve watched him, that knowing smile, he shrugged off any curiosities he had. Andie was just a good kid. That’s all it was.

But then she came back with two plates of food. She held one out to him and immediately dropped back in the spot she’d been occupying. He stared, absolutely dumbfounded as he took the plate and settled it on his spare leg. She was completely oblivious, meeting his gaze and explaining, “Dinner and a show.”

Bucky laughed. Wholeheartedly. A sound Steve hadn’t heard since the 40’s and no one else had ever heard. They all paused for the briefest of moments, trying their best not to simply stare at the pair as Andie pressed play.

Sam glanced at Y/N, passing her a plate. She watched Bucky and Andie with a look on her face that he couldn’t quite read. “You know, if it’s easier on you, we could watch over her.” Y/N faced him. “There’s always someone at the compound and…I mean, we really like having her here.”

Y/N chuckled at that, shaking her head. “You’ve had her for a day.”

“Half of one,” Sam corrected, still not caring. He could make his argument. “When she’s not visiting her dad and you’re working, have her come here. You can save money on babysitting that way, right?”

She hesitated at that. It was true. Though Peter and May didn’t ask for much when it came to babysitting, the number of times she had to ask them meant that particular bill was adding up. And with Andie’s dad not paying child support…she needed all the money she could get. “I get to know who is going to be here, right?”

Sam smiled and nodded, wrapping an arm around her and giving her a small hug. “Of course. I’m sure Tony can work something out. Get you access to the compound. Half a day or not, your kid has quite a way with people. Particularly heroes.”

Y/N looked at Bucky and Andie. They were settled on the couch in such a way, it reminded her of a long time ago. Ten years. When she was still a baby and her marriage was still attempting to function. She looked like a little girl with her dad, watching a little boy on screen freak out over a space-story. It was Andie’s favorite movie. And she knew exactly why.

Blinking away tears before they had a chance to fall, she nodded. “Okay. I think – Yeah, I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”

-.-

“Bucky…Bucky, wake up.”

He jolted awake. The metal arm flexed, gears churning as he remembered where he was. He’d fallen asleep? For how long? Running a hand over his face and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he looked around and saw Andie was sitting on his lap. She’d been poking his face, but now she just watched him. The credits from whatever movie were rolling on the screen and he shifted.

What time was it?

“It’s way past my bedtime,” she told him. Holding a finger to her lips, she pointed to her sleeping mom. “I need to go to bed.”

Bucky watched her, barely hiding his amusement. “Alright.” Groaning as he rose to his feet, he kept her in his grasp. She didn’t seem to mind, instead wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her head on his chest. It was such a simple act and yet it felt unbelievably natural. “Let’s find you a bed.”

She nodded as he carried her down the hall and he was almost positive that she was asleep. But he couldn’t exactly judge. He was tired too. Finding one of the spare rooms, he opened the door and looked around. It was bland and empty. Not nearly the type of room any kid should have, but it was just for the night. “Come on, Andie, wake up,” he whispered in her ear.

“Mmm,” she whined into his chest. His heart warmed, beating faster, but he didn’t dare think too hard about it. Instead, he set her on the bed and took her shoes off.

“Come on, Andie, wake up long enough to get under the covers.”

Andie blinked slowly, yawning. How had she fallen asleep so quickly before? He didn’t try to think too hard about it. Instead, he pulled the covers and sheets free as she shimmied out of her jeans. He barely got a chance to get the pillows ready before she dived underneath. Her arms wrapped around one of the overly fluffy pillows, burying her face in it and smiling. “Thank you, Bucky.”

“No problem, Rugrat.” He stood up, watching her for the smallest moment. She looked so frail and innocent…He still couldn’t wrap his head around it. So instead of overthinking, of dwelling, he slipped out.

Closing the door behind him, he wandered back into the common area to find the credits to the last movie still playing. Really the only one he had found himself paying attention to was the first. There were parallels in the movie that he was sure Andie related to. It made sense. Kids identified with characters for multiple reasons, but mostly it provided a validity to who they were. To their trauma.

Turning off the tv, he immediately heard movement on the couch. He glanced down at Y/N as she rolled over, still fast asleep. At some point during the second movie, she had fallen asleep. No one had the heart to wake her, instead wrapping her up in a blanket and just letting her sleep.

A part of him wanted to let her.

But he knew she would be painfully uncomfortable if she stayed there all night. He knelt beside her, brushing her hair back. She looked so peaceful, calm and at ease. He wondered if it was as rare for her to feel like this as it was for him.

God, you’re being creepy.

He dropped his hand and shifted slightly. Instead of playing with her hair, he started shaking her shoulder. “Y/N. Y/N, wake up,” he murmured. “You need a bed.”

She murmured something incoherent, curling into herself more. God, if he wasn’t so worried about her back, he’d leave her like this. She looked so adorable. He didn’t want to be the one to kill that.

“Come on, Doll.” Bucky slipped his hand underneath her, freezing for a moment when he felt her moving again. “Wake up or don’t, but please, don’t pick a time where I look like a creep,” he whispered, lifting her into his arms. His metal arm slipped under her legs as her head rest on his shoulder. She was easy to carry, especially with the serum, but he wanted to be careful all the same. “Let’s find you a bed, hm?”

He carried her down the same hall, hoping the room across from Andie would be open. He knew Y/N would feel better being closer to her kid. Shifting her in his arms, he opened the door and silently swung it open. Repositioning her, he froze as one of her hands wound them in his shirt, her face nuzzling his neck.

If his heart hadn’t been racing before, it sure as hell was now. He exhaled slowly, trying to ignore how hot his face felt, trying to ignore the faint feel of her heartbeat against his chest. Taking quick strides to the bed, he carefully laid her down. Her fist still clenched tightly around his shirt and he worked to free himself from her tight grip. She was strong for such a frail human. It was impressive. Dropping her hand, he slipped her shoes off and set them at the foot of the bed. There was no way in hell he was going to undress her. Nope. Not happening. But he shifted her underneath the blankets. She had to be dead tired. It was the only way someone could stay asleep during all of this.

Finally pulling the blankets to her chin, he smiled and lightly traced her hairline and brow. Her face relaxed and she rolled onto her side, cuddling into one of the pillows.

So that was where Andie got that from.

Bucky rose to his feet and left, silently closing the door behind him. Slumping against the door, he stared at the ceiling and exhaled slowly. That was too intimate. Too real. But he liked it. He liked the idea of taking care of someone.

“They tucked in for the night?”

He looked to the end of the hall, the faint smile on his lips dropping so fast when he saw Sam. That smug smile was in place, a back in hand from when he and Natasha had gone to the store to get Andie some clothes. Turning on his heel, he quickly put more space between him and his friend. He didn’t need Sam’s comments. He really didn’t.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Sam asked, waving at his retreating form.

“Goodnight, Sam!”

“Night, Bucky.”

Sam laughed, unable to stop as he heard Bucky’s door slam at the end of the hall. Shrugging, he hung the clothes on the outside of Andie’s door. “Definitely will be taking that as a yes.”

-.-.-.-.-.-

Tag List:

@mr-robot-x

@lets–be-honest

@buckyssoul

If you want to be tagged, just let me know!!!

#bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fluff #us and andi #Bucky Barnes #marvel au

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phebia · 4 years

Text

Making Family, Prologue

So, I can’t really write for shit but I love to do it. Normally, I just write for myself and don’t publish any of my fics but I figured posting a few couldn’t hurt. I’m almost done watching On My Block (I know I’m late to the party ya’ll) and I’ve had this fic idea bouncing around my head for a while now. If you read it, I hope you enjoy it hehe.

People like to pretend that family is all about blood. The DNA in your core is what decides who your family is, and that's just how it is. Few people know the truth behind that rule. Know that it's a blatant lie. Blood doesn't mean shit. The people I shared my blood line with were far from what family should be. My parents were never physically abusive. A hand never struck me and I never had a bruise courtesy of them. That didn't mean that they were good, though. Words can hit just as hard as fists. Every syllable knocked me to the ground and it got harder to get to my feet each time. Neglect wasn't a word I liked to use, but it was exactly what the lawyer explained it as in court. My parents were mean when they were present but most of the time they were gone. Their presence in my life wasn't strong or positive. I wasn't quite sure how it started. If I had to guess, I'd say that Ruth and Arthur Connelly- the elderly couple next door, finally decided to speak up. They didn't know anything for certain. Not that they had to. It wasn't hard to notice the empty driveway and hear the screaming echoes. It had been a Thursday when she showed up. Caroline Jennings was a fresh-out-of-college social worker. I would eventually learn that I was just her third case. She had blown into my life like a storm, her blonde hair looking more like sunshine. The first thing I noticed about her were her straight teeth, shining as she smiled sweetly at me. I didn't know that taking a few minutes to talk to her would change my life. Dragging an almost 18 year old from a group home to court and back again was harder than Caroline had thought it would be. Her past two cases had been a 5 year old and 2 year old respectively. They hadn't known what was going on. I did. I knew exactly what was happening at every point in time. Caroline had shown up in late April and the judges gavel slammed down for the last time in the end of August. I spent my 18th birthday in a group home full of strangers. Katrina was a kind hearted Latina woman with stern eyes who ran a relatively recent group home all on her own. She didn't ask for help from anyone and she surely didn't need it. I had been there for months but that didn't mean living in a home that wasn't really yours was easy. I wasn't close to the other girls that called the old farm house home. Teenagers were filled with mean comments that would leave a mark if they chose to say them out loud, and they always chose to say them out loud. Apparently mean things were okay as long as it wasn't your parents saying them. I kept out of their way. Minded my own business. Tried to make my plush form as small as possible no matter how fruitless my efforts were, all in an attempt to be ignored. It was funny that after so many years of being alone, I became comfortable in the isolation. In the months it took for the lawyers and social workers in charge of my case to find someone willing to take me in I had legally become an adult, but Caroline had kept my case open as a favour to me. I may have been legal, but it would've been nearly impossible for me to survive on the streets of Waterdown alone. I didn't know much about my extended family and it was impossible to blame anyone for not wanting to take in an 18 year old stranger, but that didn't make the ache of being unwanted any less painful. It was on a late May day that I first heard the name Geny Martinez. Caroline had sat me down and did her best to explain how exactly we were related but all I caught was that it was through my mom's side and she could be referred to as a distant aunt of mine. That also seemed to be the only Caroline understood herself. The tremor of surprise that first hit me when I learned I had family in California looking to take me in lingered for days on end. It still clung to my nerves during the first week of summer when I first met Geny and her husband Ruben. Caroline had told me they were being flown out but it didn't make looking into her brown eyes any easier. Behind her beautiful face there was stress and concern, Ruben on the other hand seemed much more relaxed. Leading them through town was awkward, but sitting down in the local Starbucks and actually having a conversation was much worse. Geny had confessed she didn't know who my mother was or how we were related (a trend that seemed popular) but she was still willing to take me in. I couldn't help but laugh when she had warned me about Freeridge and told me she wouldn't blame if I refused their offer. The thought of living with strangers pulled my stomach into knots of anxiety but it was a much better option than fending for myself on the streets of Waterdown, which I undoubtedly knew I'd have to do soon if the Martinez family didn't work. The next day the couple was gone, but they had taken my phone number with them. I didn't hear from Ruben very often, Geny on the other hand texted me multiple times a day and slowly filled me in on her family and Freeridge. The first time I visited Freeridge was in the early days of June and I visited once more over the summer. My last visit had ended in the early weeks of July and I left feeling decently comfortable with my new... I wasn't sure what to call them, but family seemed to be the easiest word to use. I was set to return in a month, this time for good.

My first introduction to California had been a blast of hot air to the face. A part of me had been hoping that Los Angeles would've cooled down in the time that I was away, but Ruby had drilled the weather patterns of Freeridge into my head and I should've listened to him. He even suggested I get my hands on an entirely new wardrobe if possible. According to the young Latino all of Canada was frigid year round and no clothing suitable for my hometown would be fitting for my new one. I had laughed at the harebrained boy but my tie dye hoodie and black leggings earned me some looks from strangers in the airport and I quickly decided I probably should've listened to him. My slight familiarity of LAX made grabbing my luggage a less anxious process than it was the first time I had done it, despite the fact that I now had a few more bags with me. My life may not have been grand, but I needed more than a single suitcase to move it to a new country. With a small grunt I heaved my final suitcase off of the baggage claim belt, and after a brief scan of my belongings I turned, starting to look around for Geny or Ruben. However, I quickly froze in place when my eyes landed on a small familiar form marching towards me. My sunglasses gave Ruby a green tint but he and his scowl were unmistakable. "Hey..." My hopeful greeting faded off as my distant cousin stopped before me and gave me a judgemental once over, then turned his attention to my luggage without a word. "I told you not to wear your cold weather clothes. No one listens to me!" All I could do was stare as he shook his head to himself and struggled to get a good grip on a couple of my bags. "I knew that you'd mess up. You're lucky I brought these for you." With a large flounce of his arms he had dropped the bags and turned to hold a pair of simple, two strap, white sandals in my face. I quickly snatched the shoes from him with an unimpressed grimace and uncomfortable slouch in my shoulders due to the attention he had gained us. Ruby ignored my displeasure and went back to my belongings with a dramatic roll of his eyes, now muttering to himself in Spanish. "Easy on the Spanish, bro. She's a gringo, remember?" A new voice took my attention off of Ruby and it only took me a second to recognise Mario, who had wandered up to us at some point during his brother's rambling. A relieved smile pulled at my lips at the sight of him. Mario was my age and his laid back demeanour had made him much more approachable than his younger brother, or anyone else in Freeridge really. His mom had coerced him into showing me around Freeridge during my first visit and our time spent together had turned us into surprisingly close companions. He was undeniably my first, and best, friend in town, and he'd be damned if anyone tried to take the title from him. And although his words were true, I couldn't help but scowl at the term while I moved to embrace him. "Teach me Spanish, then." It was a discussion we had often, ever since I had expressed a desire to learn the language after quickly feeling out of place in the Martinez household. Mario had always laughed at that and claimed that I would be a terrible student, whomst he would never waste his precious time on. "I have no time." He shook his head and smiled at me as we both pulled away from the hug. This time though, his words were true. He was headed off to Berkeley tomorrow and although it was a huge accomplishment, a part of me couldn't help but wish he wouldn't go. With Mario gone I'd likely be stuck hanging out with Ruby and his friends. There was nothing wrong with the soon to be freshman's, other than the fact that I was a good four years older than them. But that was something I'd have to get over. Ruby was mature for his age and I was in no position to be selfish. Mario already put off his departure by a full day just so he could take a few hours to help me unpack and, in his words give me, "A real welcoming home." I rolled my eyes at his ever persistent refusal, shaking my head and turning away so that he wouldn't be able to see the smile on my face. "I'll teach you Spanish, Selina." Ruby had joined my side, looking up at me with my black and white backpack slung over his shoulders, seemingly over his earlier fashion fury. "You already have the name for it. Selina." The thick Spanish accent he accentuated my name with and tilt of his head brought a loud burst of laughter out of me. "Ah, so you're over my wardrobe." I placed a hand on his head and gestured at my hoodie, managing to grind my knuckles against his head and mess his hair up before he escaped my reach. "You know what? You can find a new teacher." He sassed, spinning around and marching way without hesitation, leaving me to grab a suitcase and catch up with him, both of us leaving Mario behind to take care of the rest of the bags. In a few long strides I caught up to his short form, wrapping my arm around his neck from behind and pressing my cheek firmly against his temple. "I missed you, Ruby." I smiled softly, tilting my head to press a swift kiss to his forehead, remaining quiet about the goofy smile I spotted forming on his face. Together we walked in silence, the constant noise of the airport drowning out the way my black vans scuffed against the linoleum floors. "Hey, do you think we should help your brother?" My sudden remembrance of Mario caused me to stop and glance back. My brown eyes scanned the crowds around us, the younger boy also turning to look for his brother. Eventually Mario walked into our sights, scowling harshly and dragging more bags behind him than both Ruby and I both had combined. "Nah." Ruby decided, shaking his head and beginning to walk once more, dragging my plush form along with him. "I still can't believe your mom let you two come pick me up, alone." I had been talking about my surprise airport escorts for the majority of the ride back to Freeridge, and I was sure both boys were overly irritated with me. But, knowing Geny meant knowing how protective she was of her children, even if one of them was an adult about to move away. Things just weren't making sense. Ruby had interrupted my constant musing with stories about what had went down while I was gone, but the distraction didn't last nearly as long as he had hoped. After his brother's failed attempt at silencing me, Mario resorted to steadily cranking the radio up until it drowned out my voice. But all that did was give us all a slight headache and I was still talking as we pulled up to the house. "What? Why? I'm responsible." My eyebrows raised at Mario's offended voice crack, choosing to share a silent look with Ruby instead of doing my teasing aloud. Despite my effort, the older Latino caught the exchange and scoffed loudly, practically shoving me out of the car. "Get out of my sight." I lingered, watching him and Ruby move to the trunk, hesitant to leave the brothers to lug all my things inside themselves. "We got this." Mario caught me looking and waved his hands at me, shooing me away from them once more. "Let the muscle handle it, Selina." Ruby nodded at me and flexed his arms, and that was all the encouragement I needed to leave them be. With a grin and shake of my head I shuffled up the walkway, and debated knocking on the door for a moment but Geny had scolded me whenever I did that so I ending up opting to walk in unannounced. "Surprise!" Confetti was popped in my face and a loud gasp burst out of me at the sudden shock. My heart raced in my chest as my shoulders heaved with uneven breath, my eyes wide and looking over the group of people smiling widely at me. I recognised most of them within a second prompting a laugh of relief to spill past my lips, my laughter causing everyone else to cheer once more. "Welcome home, mija." Geny was the first person to move, rushing towards me with her arms open wide and a glowing smile on her face. "Hi, Aunt Geny." I groaned into the hug but forced a grin onto my face, nearly sighing in relief when she released me from her iron grip. She continued to coo over me, her hands holding my face and squishing my cheeks together until Ruben arrived to greet and save me. I watched the couple walk away with soft eyes until the sound of someone tsking reached my ears. Turning my head to the right revealed Ruby's friend Jamal shaking his head at me, his lanky arms crossed over his chest. "A hoodie? Girl, in this weather? You must be crazy." I sighed and looked to the popcorn ceiling, pushing the sleeves of my sweater to my elbows. Maybe I was starting to sweat a bit, but I'd never admit it to any of the California natives who were just waiting for my admission of defeat with baited breath. "Save it. I already got the lecture from, Ruby." I held my hand out to silence him before he could get another word out, a tiny grin warming my features. "I bet you did." He shook his head but a moment later he was smiling back at me. "Welcome to Freeridge, Selina. Permanently this time!" I thanked him sweetly and promised to come back later with my review of his dad's barbecue. I weaved my way through the house, greeting neighbours with varying levels of enthusiasm depending on my familiarity with them. At some point the twins had stolen me away to play with them, but I was sent right back into the fray when Geny walked in on me being forced to help build a block castle. Not long after leaving the youngest Martinez's behind I collapsed onto the couch next to the oldest one. My head lazily rested against the back of the couch, tilting so that I could look at the woman beside me. Her brown eyes were already fixed on me and she reached out to squeeze my cheek, much like her daughter had. The two of us looked at each other in silence for a minute, Abuelita eventually breaking it. "You want a hit? My stuff's in the basement." I laughed at her offer, nodding my head and promising her that we were on for tonight. The silence between us was a welcome break from the surprise party and there was no need to interrupt it. We were both more than content to watch the people milling about, her hand gently resting over my own which was sat in my lap. I had been focused on watching Ruby and Jamal do their best to ditch one of the neighbourhood girls around their age, who was very obviously invading their personal bubble, when I was distracted by the woman to my right once again. "I think you're going to like it here, mija." Abuelita's voice was quiet and soft but it rang out in my head clearly, a reminder that there was no more going back to my old life. "I hope so."

#spooky x reader #oscar diaz x reader #spooky imagine #oscar diaz imagine #on my block #on my block imagine #plus size reader #plus size fic #plus size imagine

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argylemnwrites · 4 years

Text

Change of Plans - Part 3

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (An It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment universe AU, set nearly 3 years after that epilogue)

Word Count: ~4700

Rating: NC-17 (language, 30 diamond scene)

Summary: Living in NYC in March 2020 is redefining normal for Drake and Riley. Life doesn’t always go according to plan during a pandemic, after all.

Author’s Note: Finally finished up the third and final installment of my AU inside my AU. Sorry the word count got away from me a bit here, but hopefully you all like this conclusion to the journey even further into the real world for these two. (I might have fallen in love with this version more than my planned version... oops)

Just like parts 1 and 2, this does hint at or reference some events from the prologue and the first couple of chapters of Why Are We Still Waiting?, but it does not spoil the core content of the story. And again, Trigger warning for coronavirus discussions. Also, explicit adult content in this part.

Part of Drake couldn’t quite believe that today was actually real. It felt sort of surreal still, even though he had the marriage certificate in his hand and was wearing a ring on his finger. Even though the officiant’s words still ran through his mind, pronouncing them married. It felt too much like a dream. But they were married. She was his wife.

They were in their cab, back to their apartment. Obviously, no reception. No bars or restaurants were even open, except for takeout. But that was alright. Being married to her, that was what mattered. Who really cared if it didn’t happen as they planned?

“So, for our honeymoon, what do you think about Brooklyn?” Riley asked, settling in under the arm he’d thrown across her shoulders after giving the driver their address.

Drake chuckled, “Sounds great. You have a place in mind?”

“Yup! I found this little one bedroom apartment with absolutely no amenities, but it does come with a corgi.”

“Perfect. Hopefully it comes with the opportunity for digital filing of cases, because that’s what I really want to do.”

“But you finished your work for today, right?”

Drake nodded. It had been a pain in the ass, but he’d been able to take care of enough between last night and this morning that he would probably not draw attention to the fact that he’d taken this afternoon off. It had seemed stupid to tell his supervisor his plan when he’d been able to get the work done. The firm might be letting people work from home, but that didn’t change the fact that the leadership on his team was a bunch of frat bro assholes that would have absolutely made him use a half day of vacation.

“Good,” she said, turning her head and leaning over slightly so that her lips were practically on his ear, “I’ve got plans for you.”

Drake swallowed roughly, sparing a quick glance towards the cab driver before turning his head and kissing her. The only thing hotter than the promise her words held was the fact that she was now saying them as his wife.

After a few moments, Drake pulled back, not wanting to make the driver too uncomfortable, but Riley tugged him down again, deepening the kiss slightly. However, after several seconds, a loud buzzing sound interrupted them. Riley leaned back slightly, pulling her phone out of her purse.

“What the hell?” she said as she unlocked her phone. “I have six texts from Maxwell. Wait - seven.”

Drake watched her open up her messaging app, and she let out a big sigh almost instantly. She quickly titled her phone so he could read the screen.

😲😃😭🤗😤🥳

That’s all my feelings

Because

OMG

YOU GUYS GOT MARRIED

YAY!!! 👰🤵🥂

WITHOUT ME

BOO!!!! 😡👎👿

Drake glanced up from her phone, “How does he know?” They had decided it was better to tell Liam and Iris, Hana and Catherine, and Maxwell, Savannah, Bertrand, and the kids at the same time, and since they had plans for a Zoom call this weekend, that had seemed like the perfect opportunity. No hurt feelings at being the last to know, no guilt trips from Maxwell, and no judgement from his sister for eloping. However, Maxwell had apparently found out within 15 minutes of the ceremony.

“I have no idea how he-” Riley started, but stopped abruptly, “Shit. Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“I want to check if Daniel posted our photos to Pictagram.”

“Liu, I don’t have Pictagram.”

“Yes, you do. Maxwell and I set that up for you like a year ago.”

“Yeah… I deleted it as soon as he left town.”

Riley rolled her eyes at him, but closed out her message thread with Maxwell and opened up her Pictagram account. Sure enough @liuthebagelbitch and @dw519 were tagged in numerous photos in Daniel’s account and story. Them signing the paperwork. Sitting on the couch waiting. Holding hands and saying vows. Putting on their rings. Kissing at the end of the ceremony.

“Maxwell must follow Daniel,” Riley said, scrolling through the feed, “Yup, squidwiththemoves has liked every single photo.” She sighed, exiting the app. “And he’s texted me ten more times. We have to call him.”

Drake nodded, but before Riley could even open her contacts list, a Facetime request popped up from Maxwell Beaumont. Letting out one last sigh, Riley swiped to accept the call.

“Hey Maxwell!”

“What the hell? I’ve been working on my speech for your ceremony for years, Riley!”

“Wanna try that again?” Riley asked, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

Maxwell sighed, “I mean, congratulations! I’m so happy you decided to get married without telling me or inviting me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry we didn’t consider you in our wedding,” Drake called out, leaning into the view of the camera and rolling his eyes.

“Drake! How could you do this to me, buddy?”

“Do you really want me to answer that question, buddy?”

Riley elbowed him slightly, probably wanting him to not escalate the situation. Truth be told, Drake was only mildly annoyed at Maxwell making their wedding all about him. The bigger issue was going to be getting Maxwell to keep quiet about it until Sunday. That was basically four full days from now, and Maxwell had barely been able to contain himself back when he found out that he and Riley were involved for half that time.

“Sorry, Maxwell. But we didn’t want to wait again. Plus, I lost my health insurance, so now I’m able to go on Drake’s.”

“Why didn’t you guys tell me, though?”

“Because we wanted to keep this quiet and not make it everyone else’s business,” Drake grumbled.

“And,” Riley added, shooting him a look before she continued, “we were planning to tell all you guys together on Sunday.”

“I just can’t believe I wasn’t there,” Maxwell said, shaking his head sadly.

“We wish you could have been. We really do. But you understand why that wasn’t an option, right?”

Maxwell nodded. “Yeah, I get it.”

“And do you think you could not mention it to anyone before we see everyone on Sunday?”

There was a long pause following Riley’s question before Maxwell responded, “I promise not to tell anyone else.”

“Maxwell… who have you told already?” Drake asked, the word ‘else’ jumping out in his mind.

“Not that many, people I swear!”

“Well, I just got a ‘congratulations’ text with several question marks from Hana,” said Riley, glancing at the notification that had flashed across the top of her screen.

“I had to find out if you had told her and not me!” Maxwell said, gesturing towards the screen emphatically with his free hand.

“And Iris just asked me if what she’s seeing is real,” Riley continued as another notification popped up.

“I wanted to make sure she wasn’t more looped in that I was!”

“And now Savannah’s asking if I really married her brother today.”

“Wait, why is my sister texting you and not me?” Drake asked as Maxwell continued his defense, saying “I mean, we live under the same roof, so of course I asked her what she knew.”

“Maxwell, is there anyone you didn’t tell?” Riley asked, shaking her head.

“Well, Liam didn’t answer my calls, so he probably doesn’t know.”

“You told Iris!”

“Yeah, okay… fair,” Maxwell trailed off, clearly trying to find someone he hadn’t told. “This really isn’t my fault, though! You posted those pictures!”

“Daniel was our witness and photographer. He’s the one who posted them.”

“Well, then blame him. I just acted the way any normal person in my position would have acted.”

“Wanna try that again?” asked Drake, prompting a chuckle from Riley.

“Fine, I just acted in a way that you guys should have totally predicted. In fact, part of me wonders if you wanted me to find out so that I would tell everyone, and you wouldn’t have to deal with the drama of telling them that you got married without them.”

“Maxwell!”

“Fine, I’ll let you go be nauseating newlyweds. Congrats, you two!” With a little wave, Maxwell ended the call.

“Well, I guess people know,” said Riley after a moment.

Drake let out a sigh, tipping his head back against the top of the seat.

“You aren’t really upset, are you? I mean, I know we decided to tell everyone at once, but it’s not such a big deal that they know, is it?”

“Nah, it’s just annoying that instead of this just being our thing for now, we’re gonna spend our entire wedding night on the phone with people.”

Riley let out a little burst of laughter at that, so Drake twisted his neck to glance at her. “What?” he asked.

“I think you are severely overestimating how many close friends we have. I bet we can finish this up before we even get back to our place.”

“Really.”

“You take Liam and Iris; I’ll take Hana and Catherine. All our New York friends can wait, don’t you think?”

“What about Savannah?”

Riley paused for just a moment, “We can set up a video call with her and your mother tomorrow.”

“But she lives with Maxwell. She knows that-”

“She owes us our wedding day, Drake.”

Drake nodded. As much as he wished that Riley and his sister got along perfectly, he knew that Riley had a good point there.

“So, I’m gonna call Hana. If you give Liam a call now, it can just be our time when we get home.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice, so as she tapped Hana in her contact list, he unlocked his phone and scrolled to Liam in his recent contacts. The phone only rang twice before Liam answered.

“Yes, Iris. I see. Please let me actually talk to him, love?” Liam asked, his voice muffled and quiet initially before growing much louder. “Drake, I’m glad you called. You are apparently the source of great excitement here tonight.”

“Yeah… I didn’t mean to be-”

“Well, you are, my friend. Between my three missed calls from Maxwell about, and I quote ‘something that I probably wouldn’t consider an emergency, but he sure did’ and Iris bursting into my office with pictures of Riley and you pulled up on her phone, I’ve not been able to get very far in reviewing my nightly briefings.”

“Sorry about that. But, I… er, do have some news.”

“So I am gathering. It appears congratulations are in order,” Liam said. In the background, Drake heard a quieter “Congrats, you two,” that presumably came from Iris.

“Uhh, yeah. We decided to get married.”

“I’m guessing this was Riley’s idea?”

“What makes you say that?”

“She’s just a touch more prone to impulsive action than you.”

“Well, you’re wrong this time.”

“This was you?” The shock was evident in Liam’s voice, and it did bring a smile to Drake’s face. It wasn’t often that Drake was able to surprise him.

“It was.”

“Congratulations, Drake,” Liam replied after a moment, “I’m truly very happy for both of you.”

“Sorry we didn’t-”

“No. I’m happy for you. I’m not accepting any apologies as there is nothing that happened today for which you should feel even remotely sorry.”

“Thanks, Liam.”

“Can I talk to Riley?”

Drake glanced over at Riley, “She’s on the phone with Hana,” but she held up one finger and then held her free hand open, “but I think she’s about to wrap up and wants to talk to you, too.” Riley nodded in agreement.

“Excellent. And I mean it Drake, I know how much this means to both of you. So, truly, I wish you congratulations and nothing but happiness.”

Feeling a lump in his throat, Drake swallowed roughly. But before he could process the words of his oldest and dearest friend, Riley was snatching his phone out of his hand and passing her phone to him.

Hana and Catherine wished him brief, but heartfelt congratulations, but Riley was still on the phone with Liam after he said goodbye to them. He could only really hear her half of the conversation, and she wasn’t saying much, mainly listening to him apparently. Every so often, she would throw in an “of course” or “you know I will,” but other than a few chuckles, she was largely silent. Every so often, he would catch a word or two from Liam, but their conversation was basically a mystery to him.

It was a little strange, to think about how a couple of years ago, having to sit as an outsider while Liam and Riley shared something private would have filled him with a mix of jealousy and guilt and anger. Now, it was certainly a bit odd that his best friend seemed to have more to say to his… his wife than he did to him, but it wasn’t a bad feeling, necessarily. If anything, he was mostly curious, with just a bit of fear about what tales from their youth and adolescence he could be telling her. Those stories would require more explanations than he wanted to give tonight.

Eventually, the cab stopped in front of their building. As Drake paid their fare, Riley wrapped up the call with Liam.

“Thanks, Liam. We’re actually home now… Yeah, I know… You too. Stay safe, and we’ll talk to you guys in a few days.”

“What was that about?” Drake asked as Riley ducked under his arm as he opened the door to their building.

“Oh, he just had a lot of really mushy things to say about you.”

“I’m serious, Liu.”

“I wasn’t kidding. I think he basically gave me his best man speech just now,” she said with a shrug as she unlocked the door from the mailroom and started up the stairs to the second floor, “He just wanted to make sure I knew how lucky I was, I think.”

“Well, that’s fucking dumb. I’m the lucky one here.”

“This has all the markings of going on for a while. Why don’t we just agree that we’re both mad lucky and call it even?” Riley called over her shoulder as she walked down the hallway and pulled her keys out of her purse.

“Wait! I’m supposed to carry you through, right?” Drake remembered as Riley moved to push open the door.

She let out a little chuckle and rolled her eyes, but stood there expectantly, so Drake stepped up and scooped her into his arms, sliding one hand forward to turn the knob and open their door. Anderson came trotting over, eager to see his two humans, while Drake placed Riley down close to the door, not wanting to track their shoes and jackets too far into the apartment.

“He could probably use a walk,” Drake said, “and we should probably shower after spending hours out in public. How about I take him while you get started since washing your hair is always a… process.”

Riley swatted his chest lightly, but nodded in agreement. “You’ll join me when you get back?”

“Absolutely.”

Anderson took care of his business quickly, so it wasn’t too long before Drake was back in their apartment, hanging his sport coat up next to Riley’s jacket and kicking off his shoes. After washing his hands, he made his way into their bathroom, where the shower was running. The steam was already starting to get thick in the room, and eager to get out of his clothes and to join her, Drake quickly moved to drop his shirt on top of the pile of clothing she’d left next to the sink, but a scrap of tan lace caught his eye.

“I knew you were bluffing!” he called out as he fully removed his shirt and started undoing his belt and jeans.

“Huh?” asked Riley, peeking her head out from behind the shower curtain.

“About not wearing underwear. I knew you were full of shit,” Drake said as he stepped out of his pants and boxers, kicking them on top of the pile before climbing into the tub and under the water, sliding his hands into her long, black hair, somehow even darker now that it was wet, as she placed her chin against his chest and her hands on his hips, turning her face up towards his with a playful little smile.

He dropped his head to hers, pulling her into a passionate kiss, trailing his hands through her hair and down to her back. After a few moments, she tilted her head back. “As much as I like where this is headed, we should actually probably shower and not get too distracted,” she teased, trailing her hands around and squeezing his ass with a wink before she ducked past him and started rinsing out her hair. “Besides,” she added, “our track record for shower sex is not great.”

Drake couldn’t help but laugh as he opened up his bottle of shampoo and started lathering up his hair. Something about the floor of this tub was extra slippery, as they had learned the hard way not long after they moved in and then foolishly required repeat lessons about at numerous times. The worst was the time that he’d needed three stitches behind his ear after colliding with the tap as he fell backward, but the time Riley nearly dislocated her shoulder was a close second. “Yeah, a trip to urgent care would be pretty far from ideal at this point,” he said as he dropped a kiss to her forehead.

And so they both showered, trying to keep any touches light and loving, not wanting things to escalate just yet, but the sight of Riley with water trailing all over her naked curves was obviously turning Drake on. Based on the way she dragged her hand across him as she reached for her body wash, she was feeling the same way. By the time she was rinsing off and stepping out of the shower, Drake was scrambling to finish up, wanting to join her as soon as possible.

When he finally turned off the water and stepped out, there she was, wrapped up in her lime green towel, working a comb through her hair. She smiled at him through the mirror, her skin still looking like it was almost glowing from the warmth and water. As he drew up behind her, he slid his hands around her waist and dropped his lips to her shoulder, prompting Riley to shake her head.

“Drake, at least let me finish working out the tangles,” she said before letting out a little sigh as he worked his way over to the side of her neck, biting down ever so lightly when he reached that spot that always drove her wild.

“Who cares?” Drake mumbled into her skin, working his fingers to gather up the towel and moving one hand to her now-exposed thigh, “You aren’t gonna be seeing anyone anyway.”

Riley shuddered, dropping her comb to the counter before snaking her hand behind his neck as he slid his fingers to her center, his touch still light and teasing. “Maybe I want to look good for my husband,” she sighed out, moving her other hand to the knotted portion of the towel across her chest.

Drake groaned. Was her statement supposed to slow him down? Because hearing the word ‘husband’ coming from her lips? Talking about him? Well, fuck. It turned him on even more. Riley had to know what that sentence would do to him, right? So, he increased the pressure of his fingers, stroking her in the way he knew she loved before sliding a finger inside her. The angle wasn’t perfect, but he could feel her arousal and the fact that she practically growled “Fuck” as she clawed her fingernails into his neck seemed to indicate that she was just as ready to keep going as he was.

After a few moments, Drake stilled his motion when Riley grabbed his wrist. She spun, letting the towel fall to the ground and hopped up onto the small counter. She tugged him between her legs, but Drake shook his head.

“Our bed is just a few feet away,” he protested as Riley wrapped her hand around him, causing him to question why he was trying to change anything going on here.

“But it’s nice and warm in here,” she responded, dropping kisses along his jaw, “and I’ve never been good at waiting, Drake. We can be all tender and gentle later. For now, I just want you to fuck your wife.” She punctuated the last words by biting down lightly on his earlobe. Letting out a groan, he brushed her hand away and lined himself up, sinking into her. He hadn’t wanted their first time as a married couple to feel like some frantic quickie, but it had always been nearly impossible for him to deny her anything. So he started rocking his hips into her, reveling in the feel of her around him. The scrape of her nails along his shoulders. Her breath across his cheek.

As he shifted his stance slightly to fill her an angle he knew would be better for her, he caught a glimpse of their reflection in the mirror. There it was, a gold band on his ring finger, resting along her spine. It was almost hard to look away, so he just kept staring at it, soaking in the sight that proved they were married. It mixed with the feel of her hands digging into his skin and her legs hooked around his back, the sound of her breathy sighs and whispered “fucks,” the taste of her skin of her neck, and the smell of her peach body wash, spurring him on and increasing his pleasure.

Sensing that he was heading towards his peak a little quicker than she was, he tore his left hand off her back, sliding it between their bodies. He glanced down to where they were joined, his thumb circling roughly right above that, his ring pressed against the skin of the thigh he clutched. He slammed his eyes shut and dropped his face into the crook of her neck, not needing any additional stimulation. But soon, he felt Riley’s leg clench around him a little more.

“Are you close?” he murmured into her ear.

“Yes,” she moaned out, arching her back slightly. He wasn’t sure if she was specifically answering his question or not, but her response was enough of an answer regardless. Picking up his pace, Drake stroked his thumb harder. He knew he was seconds away from release when he felt her clench around him. He barely was able to recognize her climax before he shattered, spilling into her as he groaned into her skin.

After a few breathless moments, Drake felt his awareness returning. He slid out of her and shifted up, reaching behind her for a washcloth off the rack, dropping a kiss along her cheek as he stood up fully and helped her off the counter.

He wanted to tell how much he loved her. How much he would always love her. How he would always try to prevent her from ever regretting today. But any words he could think of didn’t feel like they were enough to actually describe his feelings, so he settled for gentle caresses and light kisses as they got cleaned up. Before they moved to go to their bedroom to get dressed, Drake grabbed her wrist and tugged her back to him, kissing her deeply.

“I’ll make us something nice for dinner, Liu. Okay?” he said as he pulled back, running his hand through her wet hair.

She nodded and gave him a bright smile before responding, “And I have an idea for dessert.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, “You have an idea in the kitchen?”

Riley just shook her head. “Yes, you ass. And not only will I not mess it up, but I know you’ll like it.”

Dinner was a quiet affair, Riley having thrown on some acoustic cover songs in the background and lighting a couple of candles they had leftover from their Valentine’s dinner while Drake cooked up a couple of steaks, some roasted potatoes, and some sauteed frozen squash. It wasn’t a perfect meal, but he thought he’d done a decent job finding something special for them out of their stock. He’d been surprised when Riley had set their glasses of whiskey on the coffee table instead of their dining table, but he got it once she’d tucked her legs under herself and curled up against his side on the couch. It was cozy and warm and intimate and felt right for the way they’d gotten married.

After they finished eating, Drake started loading the dishwasher and soaking the pans while Riley dug around in the tall cupboard they used as their pantry and then pulled something out of the fridge.

“You better not be baking something,” Drake told her over his shoulder, “Eggs are too hard to find these days to use them in a kitchen adventure of yours,” chuckling lightly as he felt a towel whip between his shoulder blades.

“If you’re done being a smart ass, I’m ready for you.”

Drake shut off the faucet and turned to face her, a smile slipping onto his face as he took in the graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate bars on the counter.

“I know it’s not exactly a wedding cake, but I figured we could do s’mores over the stove,” she said, settling in next to him.

“It’s perfect, Riley,” he said, slipping his hand into hers as he noticed an apple sitting off to the side, “but why the apple?”

“Oh, well I thought we could still do the apple-cutting,” she said with a little shrug, placing her chin against his shoulder, “I mean, I wasn’t sure if someone else needed to be there for this tradition or not, but I just thought it might be nice.”

Drake squeezed her hand, grabbing a knife out of the block and handing it to her. That she had remembered the one Cordonian wedding tradition he’d mentioned incorporating into their reception and thought to do it today was so perfectly her. Not snarky her, when she was annoyed at others or the world or at him. Not playful her, who would tease and laugh and lighten the room. But thoughtful her, who saw forgotten and neglected and broken people and made sure that at least for a moment, they felt seen and heard.

“So, just carve your initials,” Drake instructed, reluctantly dropping her hand so she could pick up the apple.

“Old or new?”

“What?”

“My old initials or my new initials?”

The weight of the day hit him again. Maybe this wasn’t the wedding they’d planned, but it was still their day. Their commitment. Their promise. And that meant more than having Maxwell as the officiant or getting married where his parents did or hearing toasts from Liam or Hana ever could. Watching the woman he’d loved for years, who he knew he’d love for all the years ahead, carve “RW” into that apple was plenty special.

He knew Riley could read him and his mood. She had always been good at that even before they lived together, so it didn’t surprise him that she kept quiet as he carved his own initials into the apple, then cut out a slice for them to share. She had to know he was dangerously close to being overwhelmed, so she didn’t push, just ate her portion of the apple before taking a step to the side and lighting one of the burners. After spearing a couple of marshmallows onto two forks, she grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the stove with her. They toasted their marshmallows without saying anything and without letting go. They were ready to face the good and the bad, together and united. The world was changing, but their world felt steady and sure.

Permatag: @ravenpuff02 @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5 @speedyoperarascalparty @mfackenthal @lilyofchoices @thequeenofcronuts @jamesashtonisbae

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @dcbbw @yaushie

Drake x MC only: @jovialyouthmusic @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @riley--walker @notoriouscs @butindeed @axwalker @drakesensworld

It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment: @wickedgypsymoon @thesumofmychoices @cosigottahavefaith @thequeenchoices @katedrakeohd @feartheendlesssummer @ao719 @ooo-barff-ooo @sunnyxdazed

Change of Plans: @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @burnsoslow

#drake walker #drake x mc #trr fanfic #trr au #trr au fanfic #tw: coronavirus #n*sfw #30 diamonds

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rhosyn-du · 4 years

Text

Title: A Wonderful Institution Artist: @bidnezz Pairings: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, various background pairings Word Count: ~53k Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, discrimination against Downworlders, reference to rape, Clave-typical homophobia, implied character death, minor character death Summary: Magnus doesn’t have time for this bullshit. Warlocks are disappearing in New York City—five people in less than three months—and Magnus is determined to find them and protect the rest of his people from whatever took them. He doesn’t have time for politics, and he certainly doesn’t have time for whatever nonsense the Clave is proposing about marrying a Shadowhunter to a Downworlder as part of the new Accords. He doesn’t really have time for a pretty Shadowhunter who’s surprisingly kind to warlock children, either, but, well, he’s always been good at multitasking.

Alec always knew he couldn’t have what he wanted, but he’s spent the nearly four years since the newly-appointed Consul recalled his parents to Idris without explanation making the best of what he can have. When life suddenly offers up almost everything Alec actually wants on a silver platter, he can’t quite bring himself to trust it, especially when it comes with a million caveats and a side of impending disaster. But he knows how to handle disasters, even if the return of the Circle on top of Clave secrets that could destroy the Accords is way beyond the disasters he’s used to fielding. Hope, on the other hand? He doesn’t know what to do with that.

This fic was created for the @malecdiscordserver Mini Bang 2020.

Chapter Two

There were too many Shadowhunters in Magnus’s loft. It had probably been a mistake to invite Alec in the first place, but Magnus had let his judgment be swayed by a pretty face and a frightened child, and now he was stuck with the man’s sister and parabatai, too.

Magnus thought that perhaps, had they met under different circumstances, he might have enjoyed Isabelle’s company. Jace, on the other hand, managed to perfectly embody the condescending arrogance that so annoyed Magnus about Shadowhunters.

“Help him up into a sitting position,” Magnus instructed. “It will help the potion go down easier.” He spared a reassuring smile for Madzie, who sat curled up in a chair with Mr. Flopsy, watching the proceedings with worried eyes that nonetheless kept blinking toward sleep.

Isabelle and Jace did as instructed, maneuvering an unconscious Alec from his sprawl across Magnus’s couch into something that resembled an upright position.

Magnus leaned over Alec’s head, where it lolled against the back of the couch, hand resting against Alec’s cheek to hold him steady.

“Alexander,” he said softly. “if you can hear me, I need you to swallow the potion I’m going to give you.”

There was no response. Magnus hadn’t really expected one, but thought it was worth saying in case some part of Alec’s unconscious mind heard him.

Slowly, Magnus poured the potion into Alec’s open mouth, stroking a hand down Alec’s neck to encourage swallowing. He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the movement of Alec’s throat beneath his fingers.

“He should be awake in a few minutes,” Magnus said.

“Thank you,” Isabelle said with an air of genuine gratitude that Magnus had rarely heard from a Shadowhunter.

“It was no problem, my dear,” Magnus said, and was surprised to realize he meant it.

As soon as Alec woke, the Shadowhunters would be out of his hair, and he could deal with every other disaster the evening had presented him with. Like the mundane woman and infant warlock currently asleep in his guest room, under Catarina’s watchful eye.

As if his thoughts had summoned her, Catarina stepped out of the guest room, closing the door softly behind her. She motioned to Magnus, who joined her in the corner of the room. As he’d suspected would happen, Madzie had fallen asleep in her chair.

“The mundane is under a whole tangle of memory spells,” Catarina said quietly. “Too many for me to untangle in one evening, and honestly, after hearing the little she did remember, I don’t know if it would be good for her to remember the rest of it.”

“That bad?” Magnus asked, frowning.

“I can’t be entirely sure, but I think…” Catarina let out a tired breath. “I think Iris has been luring or kidnapping mundane women and forcing them to bear warlock children.”

Magnus took a deep breath to rein in the fury that suddenly flared through him. Deal with the practicalities first.

“Does she remember if there were other mundane women living at the house?”

Catarina shook her head. “One of the few things Leigh is very clear on is that she and Iris were the only ones caring for the children. And she remembers that she’s Noah’s mother, although thankfully for her sanity, she doesn’t remember anything about how she came to be pregnant.”

“Lucky for her, certainly,” Magnus said, “but that leaves us not knowing where Iris was getting the demons.”

“Actually,” Catarina said, “she also mentioned something about the basement of the house being dangerous. It could be nothing, but…”

“But it could be that Iris was keeping a captive demon in the basement for her disgusting breeding program,” Magnus finished for her.

“We can go check it out after your guests leave and we get Madzie into an actual bed,” Catarina offered.

“I have a better idea,” Magnus said, glancing over his shoulder to where Jace and Isabelle were conferring quietly on the couch beside a still-unconscious Alec. “Shadowhunter!”

“Warlock,” Jace responded, sounding bored, but he and Isabelle rose to join Magnus and Catarina.

Magnus rolled his eyes. “I have reason to believe a missing warlock might have been keeping one or more demons captive in her basement. I thought perhaps you might want to look into it, since dealing with demons is kind of your whole,” he waved a hand, “Shadowhunter thing.”

Jace and Isabelle exchanged a quick look, then Isabelle said, “We will look into it. If you give me the address, I’ll make sure someone checks it out.”

“While you’re at it,” Alec muttered from the couch, eyes blinking open, “could you look into being a little less loud?”

Isabelle was the first to reach his side, with Jace close behind. Magnus took his time joining them.

“You had us worried for a minute there, big brother,” Isabelle said.

“How are you feeling?” Jace asked, and the concern was so evident in his tone that Magnus could almost forgive him for being such a complete pain in his ass. Almost.

“Headache,” Alec answered. “No serious damage except maybe my pride. Did I really get taken down by a Ravener demon?”

“You did,” Magnus answered, “but given that there were at least two dozen of them, I think your pride will recover.”

Alec looked up at him then, and Magnus was caught once again in those startling hazel eyes. He wondered how it was possible for a man he’d only just met to have such an effect on him.

“Thank you,” Alec said. “For healing me. You didn’t have to.”

“Nonsense,” Magnus said. “If I’d been faster, you might not have been hurt in the first place. Although,” he added with a flirtatious smile, “if you really wanted to thank me, you could buy me a drink sometime.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Magnus saw Isabelle cover a smile with her hand and decided that, yes, she could also have an exemption to his one Shadowhunter in the loft is too many rule.

“Uh,” Alec said, looking bemused, “you can bill the Institute for your time. How long was I out?”

“About fifteen minutes,” Jace told him.

“And the demons?”

“All of the trails converged on the alley where we found you,” Isabelle said. “We got there just in time for your dramatic collapse,” she added, grinning.

Alec winced. “Ouch. Wounded pride, remember?”

“I suspect the demons were tracking Madzie,” Magnus said. “I followed their trail from the house where she was staying with several other warlocks. It’s not the first attack of this kind I’ve seen in recent months, although it is the largest.”

“This got something to do with the missing warlock you mentioned?” Alec wanted to know.

Magnus nodded. “One of several, I’m afraid.” Although he couldn’t quite bring himself to feel too bad that Iris had been taken, not if Catarina’s suspicions proved true.

“And this has been going on for months.” It wasn’t a question. Alec looked at Jace. “Why is this the first I’m hearing about this?”

“It’s the first I’ve heard of it too,” Jace answered, shaking his head.

“We haven’t exactly been advertising the disappearances,” Magnus said. “And to be honest, I don’t think anyone expected Shadowhunters to care about a few missing warlocks.”

“Well, I do,” Alec said, annoyance clear in his voice. “We do.” He sighed, running a hand over his face. “We should get back to the Institute,” he said, standing. “Thank you, again. For healing me, and for having my back.”

“It was my pleasure, Alexander,” Magnus answered. “It is, tragically, not every day I have handsome men swooning in my arms.”

Magnus thought he caught the tiniest hint of a smile as Alec rose from the couch.

“I’ll let you know if I hear anything about those missing warlocks,” Alec promised.

“Please contact me if you do,” Magnus told him. “Or if there’s anything else you think we might be able to help each other out with.”

Magnus saw the Shadowhunters out, then returned to the living room, where Catarina was watching him with amusement.

“Oh, he’s too pretty not to flirt with and you know it,” Magnus told her.

“I said nothing,” she said, shaking her head but still smiling.

Magnus flopped theatrically onto his finally empty couch and closed his eyes. He thought perhaps one was the right number of Shadowhunters to have in his loft, so long as it was the right one.

Alec managed to get a full five hours of sleep before a pounding on his door woke him. He’d meant to go straight to bed when they’d returned to the Institute, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him, and instead he’d spent nearly an hour reading everything in the Clave database about Magnus Bane, and then another two lying awake in the dark, trying to reconcile any of it with the man who’d fought at his side and saved him from demon venom. Who’d caught him when he fell.

Before Alec could shake the cobwebs of dream and the vague impression of kohl-rimmed eyes from his mind and answer, his sister was opening the door and barging right in.

“Come right in, Iz,” Alec muttered into his pillow.

“Sorry, hermano,” Izzy said, perching on the side of his bed, “but I thought you’d want to know that Mom’s here.”

That woke him right up.

“Did she say why she’s here?”

Izzy shook her head. “Just that she wanted to see you when you were up. She said she’d be in her office.”

Her office. Of course. Never mind that his parents had been in Idris for most of the past four years, or that neither of them had even set foot in the New York Institute in over six months, they were still technically Heads of the Institute. Alec just hoped she didn’t move anything important on his desk. Her desk. Fuck.

Alec tried not to be bitter about it, he really did, but some days it was harder than others, and today was apparently one of those days.

“Thanks for letting me know. Can you tell her I’ll be there in twenty minutes?”

“Can do, big brother.” She leaned in to give him a hug. “I’ll be training if you need a sparring partner to blow off some steam with after.”

It took exactly ten seconds in his mother’s presence for Alec to know he would most definitely want to hit things after this meeting. There was a brittle edge to her perfunctory smile that managed to convey all of the same disappointment evident in her recent letters while not quite hiding a bone-deep exhaustion. Not for the first time, Alec wondered what exactly his parents were doing in Idris.

“Mother,” Alec said, stepping into the office and falling instinctively into parade rest. “This is unexpected. If I’d known you were coming, I would have been awake to welcome you.”

“It was a last-minute decision,” Maryse answered. “I finished what I was working on earlier than expected, and Consul Penhallow suggested I come and ensure everything is set for next week’s negotiations.”

It made sense that the Clave would send someone to oversee preparations for the final round of negotiations over the revised Accords, since those negotiations were to be held at the New York Institute. It even made sense that the Clave would send Maryse, as one of the official Heads of Institute. But Alec couldn’t quite shake the suspicion that his mother was here for more personal reasons.

“I’m sure you’ll find everything in order,” Alec said. “Will Father be joining you?”

Maryse’s answering smile was tight. “Your father will be here in time for the negotiations. He still has some things to take care of in Idris.”

Her smile sharpened, and Alec knew he’d been right about why she was here.

“Besides,” she continued, “I thought you and I could take this opportunity to discuss your future, just the two of us.”

Alec shook his head, suddenly feeling as though he’d gotten no sleep at all. “There’s nothing to discuss. I volunteered, the Council chose me, end of discussion.”

“There’s still time to change your mind,” Maryse said with a carefully controlled calm. “The negotiations aren’t until next week. The Council will choose someone else, and the Downworlders will never know the difference. If you’d bothered to consult me about this in the first place, or even your father—”

“I consulted with Consul Penhallow,” Alec interrupted.

“Jia Penhallow doesn’t give a damn about what your decision means for this family,” Maryse snapped. “Or what it means for you.”

Alec looked away, choosing his words carefully. “What it means for this family is that the revised Accords—the ones that you support— will be signed, and they won’t be put in jeopardy by someone who resents marrying a Downworlder for political reasons. When the Clave first announced this marriage was going to be a part of the revised Accords, you and Dad are the ones who convinced me it was necessary. I’m doing what I can to make sure it goes smoothly.

“Besides,” he continued, finally meeting his mother’s eyes again, “you’re the one who suggested I start looking for a wife.”

“I meant you should find a Shadowhunter wife, Alec!” Maryse said, throwing up her hands. “Yes, the revised Accords are important, and yes, someone needs to do this, but that person doesn’t have to be you.”

Alec regarded his mother for a long moment. “What aren’t you telling me?” he asked finally. “The Council thinks I’m the right person to do this, and so do I. If you have a reason for disagreeing that goes beyond distaste over the idea of your son marrying a Downworlder, then tell me what it is.”

For just an instant, Maryse seemed to hang on the precipice of speaking, but then her shoulders slumped, and she sighed. “I’m doing what’s best for our family, Alec.”

Alec knew his mother well enough to know that there was no point in asking again.

“So am I,” he said instead. “Is there anything else? I told Izzy I’d train with her this morning.”

Maryse shook her head. “We can discuss preparations for the negotiations when you’re feeling less recalcitrant.”

He found Izzy in the training room, practicing forms with a staff, right where she’d promised to be.

“That bad?” she asked, grabbing a second staff from the rack on the wall and tossing it to him. “Want to talk about it?”

“Nope,” he told her, feinting high, then moving to sweep her left leg.

Izzy danced out of the way, laughing. “Come on, Alec. If you’re not going to keep me up to date on family gossip, at least give me a decent fight.”

She moved toward him, throwing out three jabs in quick succession, all of which he blocked.

“Now who’s not giving a decent fight?” he taunted. “I was getting a better workout arguing with Mom.”

“You’re still recovering from last night,” she said, rolling the staff lazily across her shoulders as they circled each other. “I wouldn’t want to further damage your ego.”

“Cute,” Alec said before launching another attack, this time at Izzy’s midsection, which she blocked and rolled into her own attack.

They kept on like that for several minutes, attack and parry, back and forth, neither managing to land a blow. It was exactly what Alec needed to ease the frustration of his earlier meeting.

“Speaking of last night,” Izzy said just as Alec felt the last of the frustrated tension loose from his shoulders, “have you heard from Magnus?”

Alec felt a tiny frisson of…something deep in his belly at mention of the warlock. It distracted him enough that he didn’t quite block Izzy’s next attack, and his shoulder caught a glancing blow. It wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as Izzy’s smug grin.

“Why would I hear from Magnus?” Alec asked, rolling out his shoulder with an intentional casualness.

Izzy gave him a pointed look. “About the missing warlocks? You did promise to share information, remember?” Her grin widened as she bounced from foot to foot, looking for a hole in his defenses. “Or maybe he thinks you’d have a different answer for him if he asked you out without so many people around.”

“He didn’t— That’s not what that was,” Alec insisted. He could admit, at least to himself, that he’d been just a tiny bit flattered at Magnus’s flirting, but he wasn’t foolish enough to take it seriously.

And even if Magnus had been serious, it wouldn’t matter. Alec was getting married.

Izzy gave him her most disbelieving smirk, then added insult to injury by blocking his next attack seemingly without effort.

“Then maybe you should ask him out,” Izzy suggested. “You can’t tell me you don’t want to.”

“Izzy,” Alec said warningly, “drop it.”

“For now,” she agreed, once again darting out of range of his staff. “But don’t think this conversation is over, big brother.”

Alec was saved from answering by the arrival of a fire message. It was entirely Izzy’s fault that he let himself wonder, for those few seconds before he read it, if it might be from Magnus.

“Everything okay?” Izzy asked, lowering her staff.

“Yeah,” Alec said, frowning faintly. The message was from a warlock, just not the one he’d been hoping to hear from. “Yeah, I just gotta take care of something real quick.”

“Guess I’ll just have to kick your ass later then,” Izzy said with a shrug.

Alec decided that one wasn’t worth answering.

“Thank you again for coming,” Catarina said, leaning back against the park bench. A few feet away, Madzie was pushing Mr. Flopsy on the swing set. “She just wouldn’t believe you were really okay until she could see it for herself. And with Iris gone, she doesn’t have a whole lot of stability in her world right now.”

“I get it,” Alec said. Shadowhunters didn’t exactly tend to live long and full lives, and this wasn’t the first time he’d seen a kid who’d lost a parent figure panic over other people getting hurt. “And I don’t mind. If seeing me alive and well is what it takes to make Madzie feel safe again, that’s something I’m happy to do.”

“You’re her hero, you know,” Catarina told him. “You and Magnus. She doesn’t talk much, but when she does? It’s about how the two of you saved her. I think I’ve heard the story five times already this morning.”

“I don’t feel like much of a hero,” Alec said. “I was just doing my job.”

“Maybe,” Catarina said, watching him carefully, “but you do it a lot better than most Shadowhunters. At least where warlocks are concerned.”

Alec shrugged uncomfortably. This was not a conversation he wanted to have on a sunny morning in the park with a near-stranger.

“How are the others you rescued, the mother and baby?” he asked instead. Izzy had filled him in on the details he’d missed while he was unconscious.

“As well as they can be under the circumstances, Catarina answered. “Safe. It’s not as common that a warlock child and his mother need shelter as it is for a warlock child alone, but it’s common enough that we have safe places for them.”

“That’s—” Alec didn’t know what to say to that. He’d never really had reason to think about what life was like for warlock children, but it made sense they wouldn’t exactly have a stable home life with one mundane parent and one demon. “I’m glad they have somewhere to go.”

Alec’s phone beeped, the tone he used for alerts from the Institute, and he sighed. “Duty calls.”

Catarina gave him a tired smile. “It always does.”

At Madzie’s insistence, Alec gave Mr. Flopsy a hug before heading back to the Institute, and whatever his mother needed from him now.

For the second evening in a row, Magnus found himself with a splitting headache and in desperate need of a stiff drink. He’d spent the day speaking to Iris Rouse’s few friends in the hopes of finding something that might lead him to her or the missing children. Instead, he’d merely found that Iris’s friends were no more pleasant than the woman herself.

He was just about to open a portal back to his loft—and his plethora of whiskey—when he sensed the demonic energy. He was being followed. Very sloppily.

Instead of opening the portal, he crossed the street and headed east. If someone was stupid enough to send demons to follow him, he was damn well going to find out who and why.

The demons kept themselves well back as Magnus wove his way through crowded streets, and he began to think they were merely tracking his movements. Which was good, because he didn’t think there were more than three following him, and if these demons were sent to track him by the same person who sent the horde of Raveners after Madzie, Magnus would be very insulted that they’d sent fewer demons for him than for a six-year-old.

But if it was the same person, Magnus didn’t want these demons reporting back to the person who summoned them. Even though his investigation into the disappearance of Iris Rouse and the warlock children living with her had yielded basically nothing, he didn’t want to give the person who took them even that much information about what he did and did not know.

Decision made, he turned another corner, leading his pursuers toward an area likely to be a bit less crowded. Glamour could hide what he was doing from passersby but fighting demons in the middle of a crowded street in Midtown wasn’t exactly safe for innocent bystanders, even if it was going to be a very short fight.

It was another ten minutes before he found a short side street deserted enough Magnus wasn’t worried about some mundane accidentally stumbling into his fight. With an air of nonchalance, he stopped and pretended to examine a particularly large crack in the sidewalk.

As Magnus had hoped, the demons followed him onto the street, although they kept to the shadows. He’d been right: there were three of them. Shax demons, and almost certainly sent to spy on him. It took less than ten seconds to take them down, a blast of magic in the thorax of each.

“Well done,” came a voice from over his right shoulder.

“More like medium-rare,” Magnus said with a smirk as he spun around to face Alec. “You know, if I’d realized you were going to come dashing to my rescue, I would have left one of them for you.”

Alec raised his eyebrows in skepticism, but Magnus could see the hint of a smile underneath, and it was breathtaking. “You don’t really strike me as the type to need rescuing.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Magnus agreed. “But I wouldn’t want you to feel like I don’t appreciate the attempt.”

“That’s not— I mean, I wasn’t—” Alec blew out a long breath. “I was following up on a possible demon sighting, not trying to rescue you.”

“I suppose that’s a relief,” Magnus said, ignoring the slight twinge of disappointment that Alec was looking for demons and not for him. “It wouldn’t do for Shadowhunters to think the High Warlock of Brooklyn can’t take care of himself.”

Alec snorted. “I don’t think there’s any danger of that. ” Magnus quirked an intrigued eyebrow, and Alec hurried to add, “I just mean, the Clave’s file on you is pretty clear on your ability to take care of yourself.”

“I would question the accuracy of anything the Clave has to say about me,” Magnus said, “but I’m glad to hear they got one part right, at least.” And he was more than a little pleased that Alec had been reading up on him, even if his choice of source material was questionable.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Alec said. “Do you know what those demons were after?”

“Following me,” Magnus told him. “I spent my day investigating the latest warlock disappearances, and I suspect the person responsible sent those Shax demons to follow me and report back on my activities. Not that I’ve had much luck in finding anything.”

“Are you sure you’re safe?” Alec asked with a frown. “If the person kidnapping warlocks is tracking you, you could be their next target.”

“I appreciate your concern, Alexander,” Magnus answered sincerely, “but I assure you I’ve taken plenty of precautions. As we just covered, I’m more than capable of handling myself in a fight, and my loft is quite well warded.”

Alec’s frown lessened, but didn’t disappear entirely, and Magnus couldn’t help but be touched by his concern. “And is that where you’re headed now? Back to your loft?”

Magnus nodded. “I was thinking I could use a drink after the day I’ve had.” He paused, debating internally, then added, “Would you care to join me?”

Emotions flickered across Alec’s face like frames in an old-time film: surprise followed by delight, which was quickly doused by regret.

“Magnus, I wish— I just—”

Magnus held up a finger to silence him. “I understand.”

And he did, much as he wished he didn’t. Shadowhunters weren’t exactly accepting of same-sex relationships, nor relationships between Shadowhunters and Downworlders. Whatever attraction there might be between the two of them, Alec was obviously unwilling to pursue it. Maybe even unwilling to acknowledge it. Really, it was what Magnus should have expected, and he hated that he’d let some small part of himself hope.

Alec huffed out a frustrated breath. “You don’t,” he said, but offered no further explanation.

“Well,” Magnus said, letting his own regret show through a tiny smile, “it was a nice thought. Goodnight, Alexander.”

He couldn’t be certain, but he thought he heard a faint “goodnight,” follow him through the portal back to his loft.

#malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #fanfic

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theseuss-ship · 5 years

Text

Heaven

Homecoming is this weekend. The losers were planning on going in a group. But they still wanted dates. Ben asked Beverly a while back. He was scared that someone else would ask her before he could.

Stan and Bill were going with each other. They were quietly dating. As if, you weren’t sure if they were dating but they had announced their relationship.

Eddie’s mom would murder him if he had a date, so he didn’t bother. But Richie wanted to bother. He just didn’t know how.

Richie and Eddie have been hanging out a lot recently. Richie’s parents were never home, so he always asked Eddie to come over. He loved Eddie’s company. He couldn’t stand being alone and Eddie made it a lot easier.

One night at Richie’s house, Eddie came in looking very pissed off. “God, my mom is such a total pain in the ass. I can’t stand it anymore.” Eddie ranted. He sat on Richie’s bed, still rambling.

Richie was staring at Eddie. He didn’t want to stay inside tonight. And some walking would probably good for Eddie. “Let’s go somewhere.” Richie says.

“What? Are you even listening?” Eddie asks.

No. Richie gets up from his position on the bed and reaches his hand out to Eddie. “Yes. But I think a walk on a night like this would be good. C’mon I know a place.”

Eddie blinks. “Richie, I swear to god if you try to murder me-” Richie laughs heartily at him.

“Calm down. It’s just boring in here!” Richie waggles his hand.

“Fine,” Eddie grabs Richie’s hand. “But I don’t want to be out long. It’s cold.”

Richie picks up two jackets off his floor. He gives the comfier one to Eddie. “Now you have nothing to bitch about.” Richie sticks his tongue out.

Eddie follows his best friend to a small playground. It looks as if it hasn’t been used in a while. Like it was a hot spot for young kids long ago, but it lost its charm. Eddie smiles. “I should’ve known you would take me to a playground.”

Richie chuckles. “I like coming here to distract myself.” He sits on an old swing.

“Is this sanitary?” Eddie inspects the swings. They’re rusted and used. The chains creak with a slight push.

“I’m still alive so, yes.” Richie says sarcastically. “Just sit. You’ll be fine.” He pats the swing next to him.

Eddie sits down on the seat. There’s a breeze that makes him shiver. Involuntarily, Eddie huddles into Richie’s huge jacket. He has one foot on the ground and is swaying more than swinging. Richie clears his throat to catch Eddie’s gaze.

“So,” Richie starts. “I was thinking about homecoming. It’s coming up soon.” Richie is clearly nervous. His attention on the dirt beneath him. “And I know we both don’t have like, dates. So, ha, can I take you to homecoming? As your date. As a date. Yeah.” Richie doesn’t dare look up at Eddie.

But Eddie didn’t dare take his eyes off of Richie. “Richie,” Eddie’s voice was barely audible. “I’d really like to go to homecoming with your dumbass.”

Richie looks up at Eddie. “Wait really? You don’t think it’s weird? Because like..” Richie gestures between Eddie and himself.

"If I didn't feel like it was okay, I wouldn't say yes. I want to go with you, Rich." Eddie smiles warmly at Richie. And Richie feels like he's melting.

"Wow. This is not what I expected." Richie sucks on his teeth. "Well, okay maybe I was prepared for a yes. Would you want to come hang out at my place after homecoming? Just to chill. Because I always feel so crowded during homecoming. No time or space to connect or bond."

Eddie leans back in the swing to think. "Ma would never let me." He sighs.

"Spaghetti, just tell her homecoming ends at 12." Richie says.

Yeah.

"Alright. Bet." Eddie says. He laughs at his own response.

It's the night of homecoming. Richie and Eddie are so excited. Eddie has prepared for everything. He can not leave anything behind that he may need in an event like this. The germs.

There's just one thing that Eddie shoved to the back of his mind. That fucking slow dance. He knows it's going to happen. So what's he going to do with Richie?

Eddie knows what he wants. Richie owes him that dance. But he's terrified of people seeing. He doesn't want to be labeled as a "fag" again. It was just dying down.

Eddie was dressed up in his very special Sunday clothes. It was a salmon tuxedo with a red bowtie. His mother was fawning over how cute he is and taking more pictures than a child could count.

Eddie's mom was touching his face and making sure he looked perfect. According to Richie, he always did. Eddie swatted her hands away. "Mommy, I'm going to be late. Let's go."

"Alright. But just a few more pictures." She snapped some more and Eddie tried not to scream at her. She grabbed the keys and left for the dance.

When they arrived, Eddie's mom kept asking him if he had all of his meds. He didn't know how many times she asked the question. "Okay so pick up at 12?" She asked.

"Yes. But I could maybe get a ride home with Stanley. That way you don't have to drive out." Eddie said.

Sonia frowned at this. "Okay. Make sure to be safe and have fun. Don't touch anyone. And no romance." She warned.

"Bye, mommy! I love you." Eddie leaned over to give her a kiss and then got out of the car. Eddie had texted Richie to meet him in the lobby. He took a deep breath and went through the venue's entrance.

There he was. Looking around nervously for his date. For once, Richie's hair doesn't look like a rat's shit house. It's still curly, but a comb has run through it. He looks oddly nice. His tuxedo isn't buttoned at all. His tie hangs around his neck, untied. The tuxedo itself is slightly wrinkled. The black tuxedo obviously hasn't been used in quite a while.

Eddie almost couldn't stand looking at him. He couldn't believe that this was his date. He loved it.

Richie caught sight of Eddie and raced up to him. "M'lady." He said. Richie extended his arm to Eddie. Eddie wrapped his arm in Richie's and pushed up the oversized glasses Richie wore.

"I hate you." Is the only thing Eddie could say.

They dropped arms once they went into the main event area. The music was loud. You could already smell the body odor and perfume mixing in the air. The crowd by the speakers was humongous.

Right away, they spotted the losers in the area towards the seats. "Look at these babes! Wow! So you can look attractive, Richie." Bev exclaims.

Richie laughs at her. "I'm sorry if I embarrass you because my looks are superior."

"Shut up, Tozier." Eddie says.

The night goes on. Random pop songs from the radio come on. The losers are dancing along with some of the songs. Mike surprises the group with some moves he had up his sleeve. Everything is perfect. Richie and Eddie keep sharing longing glances at each other throughout the night.

Then, the dreadful part came around. A slow song that's probably trending on the radio. Immediately, the air in the room changed. Couples got together to dance. Ben and Beverly paired up to dance. Bill and Stan even paired. But then there was Richie and Eddie.

They made direct eye contact with each other. Both of the boys visibly froze up. Richie is the first one to do anything. He comes in close to Eddie's ear. "I'm sorry, Eds." Richie whispered. That's how Eddie knew Richie shared the same fears he had. They were too scared of what others would say if they had been spotted.

Richie gestured over to the chairs so they wouldn't have to stand awkwardly. Eddie followed him to the area. When they sat down, Eddie felt okay. He wasn't upset. He knew it was going to happen. "It's okay, Richie." Eddie said. He gave a genuine smile to Richie.

Richie let out a breath he wasn't holding in. He leaned back to get more comfortable in the small chair.

The homecoming dance ended. The losers were saying their goodbyes to each other. They all had such a fun time. They didn't say much because they were tired and probably just going to talk over group chat.

Richie's house was close enough from the venue to walk. Along the way, Richie and Eddie had their usual mindless conversations. They got to Richie's house and made home in his bed. “Was it just me or was the music terrible?” Richie says. He turns on his speakers.

Eddie chuckles. "It was really bad. Like really fucking bad." Eddie lies down on Richie's bed. He felt like his ears were ringing. The music was so loud and it shook his whole body.

“Good. Because my music taste is way better.” Richie smirks. He turns on a playlist he made in Spotify. He titled it “vibe check!” The first song to come on is Let It Happen by Tame Impala.

Richie sits on the bed next to Eddie. Eddie stares up at the ceiling, letting the song go through him. He finds himself humming along to the song.

“Thanks for coming with me tonight.” Richie murmurs. Eddie almost doesn’t notice Richie’s words.

“It was fun.” Eddie says back. The atmosphere was weird. There was a strange silence between the boys. The music provided a weird background for them to rest. Yet, they were both comfortable.

The song changes. The Night We Met by Lord Huron sounds through the speakers. Eddie feels the bed shift next to him. Richie’s footsteps were soft. Eddie sits up.

Like the night Richie had taken Eddie to the playground, Richie had his arm extended with his hand open to Eddie. “This is a dancing song. Don’t you think?” Richie says.

Eddie smiled. “I’m going to check that out.” He places his hand in Richie’s. Richie helps pull Eddie from the bed.

They had no clue how to actually dance. Their hands were placed weirdly on each other’s sides. Eddie moved his hand that was not captured by Richie’s to his shoulder. Richie shifted his hand on Eddie’s waist to a better position.

Richie rested his forehead against Eddie’s and shut his eyes. He couldn’t help himself from smiling. Eddie looks at Richie’s face. It was unbelievably close. They shared breaths. Eddie found himself wanting to be even closer. Every nerve in his body was on fire. Is this safe? Should I be feeling like this? Eddie thought. But he didn’t care.

Without even thinking about it, he met Richie’s chapped lips. Eddie had never been so aware, yet lost all in one moment. But it was a good lost. Like his mind was gone and he was content with it.

Eddie took in every detail. The way Richie was so apprehensive until he was sure Eddie did want it. It was a first kiss for both of them. It felt much better than in daydreams. It felt real.

Eddie felt his stomach twist and form into a pit. If you had asked Eddie what that pit was, he would surely say appendicitis. However, it was clearly love.

Richie pulled away and stared at Eddie. “You’re better at kissing than your mom.” Richie jokes.

“I literally hate you.” Eddie laughs. They’re still holding each other and dancing. Eddie didn’t want to let go.

“I know.” Richie says. His smile was big. Richie felt like this was heaven. He had no other explanation for it.

So the both of them decided that it was heaven. Their dance would forever be the heaven that only the two of them would share. A wordless love.

#please go easy on me i am babey #i dont write very often #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it richie #it eddie #it2017 #it2019 #it2movie #it chapter two #reddie fanfic #it au #finn wolfhard #jack grazer #bill hader #james ransone #fluff

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etlunainmorte · 4 years

Text

Perfect. Everything was going smoothly and according to plan.

Later after the party, Christopher would pay Salvador a huge sum of money for doing his job. Well, he should admit that, at first, it seemed so difficult. The victim, himself, didn't look that intimidating, sure, but, his pets sure did. What were they again? Ah! A glowing panther and an extremely talkative blue parrot.

Who is this V person, anyway?! An exotic pet smuggler?!

Eh, it doesn't matter now! Thought Salvador as he glanced at V's house from his own car. Stealing those vintage clothing and that necklace was a,...

"Piece of cake!" The man exclaimed as he adjusted the rear view mirror. Taking a comb from the pocket of his black leather jacket, he began fixing his already slick - looking hair. Giving his own reflection the gun fingers, he sang along to the music in his car speakers, "We're talking away, I don't know what I'm to say I'll say it, anyway. Today's another day to find you shying away. I'll be coming for your love, okay? Take on me,... TAKE ON ME - !

"WHOA!"

Not a moment too soon, Salvador found himself stumbling on the ground next to two pairs of feet. Somehow, the car door ( which was locked ) was forced open and he felt strong hands dragging him out. He looked up and saw two very irate - looking strangers. The woman had her arms crossed and the man was tapping his booted foot on the ground.

"WHO ARE YOU, PEOPLE?!" Salvador screamed as he tried to scramble away from the two strangers. However, his escape was unsuccessful when the man grabbed his jacket and yanked him off the ground. "H - HAVE MERCY ON ME, PLEASE!"

"Is this the one, Nico?" The man asked the woman, who just lit up a cigarette and began smoking.

Pointing two fingers at Salvador, the woman called Nico spoke. "That's the one. Or, unless I'm wrong and he's not the one spying on V here for almost a week!"

"Y - Y - YOU GOT THE WRONG PERSON!" Salvador pleaded, already feeling his sweat run cold and his bones weaken. He tried to pry himself loose from the man's grip but, he was just too strong! "I - I - I DON'T KNOW W - WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!"

All of a sudden, they heard an awful noise coming from the car, and a few moments later, that same talkative blue bird came into view.

"HE'S GOT IT!" The noisy bird squawked as it pointed at something with its wing. They all turned towards the direction it's pointing at and noticed that same glowing panther, the pieces of the ripped vintage clothing in its mouth, standing just next to the car.

Which means,...

The awful noise that Salvador heard earlier was the sound of his car trunk breaking!

"YOU,... FUCKING ZOO MASCOTS!" Salvador howled in anger.

It happened in a matter of seconds. Poor Salvador was about to fight back when he felt his body go numb all of a sudden. It's as if an incredible jolt of electricity ran through his system to the numerous ends of his nerves at the speed of light, making him fall to the ground, helpless and unmoving.

As a matter of fact, he really felt he should've been dead with that unprecedented attack but, miraculously, he's not.

"I can't find the necklace anywhere!" He heard another woman say. Where did that come from?!

"Let's check again!" Answered the other female, the one who smoked.

It's,... no use,... Salvador thought, his face still lying flat on the ground where he fell. B - boss,... has the w - wretched thing!

"It's not,... fucking here!" The aggravated male swore a few moments later after all that ruckus in the car.

"We should let him know." The woman who smoked said. "He's the one who originally owns it."

"I agree with you on that, Nico."

He? Salvador thought helplessly. Who the heck - ?! What now?!

Fly me to the moon,

Let me play among the stars.

Let me see what spring is like on

A - Jupiter and Mars.

In other words, hold my hand.

In other words, baby, kiss me.

Fill my heart with song and let me sing for ever more.

You are all I long for,

All I worship and adore.

In other words, please be true.

In other words, I love you.

The voice of the Frank Sinatra wannabe on the stage soared high above the romantic place as the couples, all dressed in their best vintage, danced to the hypnotic, timeless tune.

And as you danced the dreamy Foxtrot with your tall, green - eyed partner, your mind couldn't help but go over, and over again through the events that led right to this moment.

"Oh, for I can't help falling in love with you,..." V's low and gentle voice mesmerized you. There simply was this special something in his voice. Something very warm and familiar. You've noticed it the first time during Avery's wedding where you've met him but, you didn't pay it too much attention. At least, not too much. However, during that night when he visited you and read to you that lovely story about Cupid and his beloved muse, you could no longer deny that fact. You can't actually pinpoint what it was but, it certainly lured you in closer to him.

Yes, there's no use denying that now.

You feel something for V, that you're definitely sure of.

You just kept wondering, is he really the one? Were your feelings even mutual? And what if the same thing happens to you? That thing that Christopher did to you?

Many doubtful things about V plagued your mind since that night but, now that he's here, right before you, you're very sure. Very sure, indeed.

You almost did not hear his shy, and yet bashful voice above the overwhelming applause and cheers he received from the other guests as he spoke to you after his heartwarming ( and cheesy ) song. His warm smile, pleading eyes, and gentle touch as he took your hand and planted a kiss on it made you feel like you were the most enchanting woman in the whole wide world.

The one and only enchantingly beautiful woman in V's whole world,...

"Pardon my delay." He told you, the guests still cheering wildly for the both of you. "I was,... catching up on some - "

You cut him off, placing a single finger over those supple lips of his. With wide green eyes, he saw you lean closer to him. And with a wildly racing heart, he heard you whisper sweetly to his ear, "I know. It's alright." Then, giving him an equally warm, and sweet, smile that flung his heart beat off its normal rhythm, you added, "You came. That's all that matters."

"Well, well! If it isn't Mr. Domestic guy!" An obnoxious voice boomed all of a sudden, destroying the sweet and tender mood and killing your moment with V. "How rude of you to keep your lady waiting!"

That,... mother - !

Earning disgusted looks from the people standing closest to you ( especially Trish and Lady ), Christopher went on with his self - primping. And bullying. "And what,... old clothes you wear!"

There, he said it. He emphasized the words, old clothes.

He knew what's going on! You thought as you threw the man a scornful, disgusted look.

Showing your,... true colors! V thought at the same time as he held you closer to him and shielded you from the overbearing guy. I see,...

I will make you pay,... Christopher thought as he gave V a very awful and challenging look. You two,... will pay!

"The better," You answered, your brave voice soaring high above the noise of Fleminger's ball room. " ... to spend this beautiful vintage evening with."

"So, we're talking about spending nights with someone else now, huh?" Christopher, like the rude man that he was, bit the bait, a very visible tint of red coloring his face. You knew that look. He was getting really riled up. "Let's see,... hmm,... how about," He uttered in a sickly sing - song voice as he pointed an accusing finger at both you and V. This made you stand instinctively in front of V, reversing your positions from before, and protecting the poor poet from your evil ex. And this made Christopher even angrier. " ... a challenge, perhaps? Whoever grabs the title of King and Queen this year,... wins! How about that?"

"We have no intention of - " V began but, you cut him off once more. You,... just couldn't stand Christopher's bullying anymore.

This has to stop! Here and now! And you will not stand by idle, and do nothing! You will fight this! And win the war! No matter what it takes!

"How do we do that?" You questioned, feeling your blood boil for the evil doctor.

"Eh, it's obvious, isn't it?" Christopher gestured with his thumb, pointing at the middle of the room where Dante began doing his Michael Jackson routine once more. "We go by Fleminger's rules. We rule the dancefloor. If you win, I'll leave you two lovebirds alone. If not,... well! We'll see! How's that, Little Miss Domestic?"

Leaving V for a while, you stepped closer towards Christopher and looked at him straight in the eye, dead set on bringing the evil man down.

"You're on," You answered, and with a hint of sass in your voice from being bullied, as well, you added, "Mr. Narcist."

"Now, I wonder who the Damsel In Distress really is here." A male voice interrupted. Turning your eyes to the source of this new voice, you found the robust ( and bald ) host of the party. Smiling at you and bowing theatrically, he spoke. "Pardon my,... intrusion. As you may have already known, I'm called Flanagan Allen Fleminger. But, you can simply call me,... Fleminger."

"Sir Fleminger!" Christopher greeted in an overly exaggerated way. "How wonderful it is to finally meet you. I' am - "

"Did I hear a challenge just now?" Fleminger asked with a very curious smile. "Because I do love challenges!"

You and V gave each other a worried glance, both pondering whether you should take this Fleminger man's intervention as an opportunity or as a warning. The man looked suspicious enough! Really suspicious,...

"Well! My spacious ball room is more than ready,... and equipped,... for any,... chivalrous challenges,... in the name of love. And honor! If I may add." Fleminger exclaimed as he excitedly clasped his hands and glided towards V. How does anyone simply glide like that? "I hope you find it,... challenging enough for your taste,... My Lord." He said and walked away with that mischievous smile on his face.

Fill my heart with song and let me sing for ever more.

You are all I long for,

All I worship and adore.

In other words, please be true.

In other words, I love you.

The music wound to a close, and as you and V took your bow, you heard the audience's excited cheers as they called for Christopher and Lady's name above all other couples who were dancing along with you. It's very difficult to deny it but, that Lancaster guy do have a way with ballroom dances.

And he clearly looked like he's winning the game,...

You felt V's grip on your hands tighten as you noticed him looking with such distress at the horrible enemy. You couldn't really blame him. Three dances in and people just couldn't help but be entranced by Christopher and Lady's moves. It's as if their perfectly choreographed moves has the ability to put anyone under a spell, and that alone spells trouble for both you and V.

What would happen to the two of you if Lancaster wins this?! What would happen if he and Lady becomes King and Queen of The Night? He probably would never stop bullying you and V for the rest of your life!

"Heads up!" You heard Trish tell you with a pat on your arm, making you turn your attention to her and her dance partner, Dante.

"Hey! Rockin' the dance floor?" The Devil Hunter greeted you with an overly confident smile that said I'll nab the title of King! all over despite Christopher's undeniable popularity. And this made Trish roll her eyes.

"Popularity polls don't matter!" Trish went on. With a sly glance at Fleminger, who was watching the dances at one of the upper boxes, she added, "It's him who decides the winner." And with a reassuring smile on her face, she said, "You're doing just fine."

"Yeah, right. Thanks" You answered as you watched the woman regally walk away with Dante. How could any woman stay perfectly poised and fresh after rounds of Waltz, Quick Step, and Foxtrot?!

"(Y/N)," All of a sudden, you heard your partner speak, his low voice slightly making you worry. " ... I should not have dragged the both of us in this hopeless situation. Forgive me,... "

What? "Hey, it's not your fault! I was the one who accepted that man's challenge." You reminded him as the rest of the couples took their five - minute break before the next dance. "It's not your fault, V."

"But, I was the one who invited you here,... " And it was the truth. V wanted you to have a memorable and fun night with him. He planned this event through and through in his head and he honestly thought that everything would go smoothly and perfectly. In his eagerness to fulfill your last wish, he was not able to predict one tiny setback.

And that setback happened to be the biggest, most annoying throat choke that ever lived on the planet. One that just wouldn’t go down in defeat even with more than eight glasses of water and a few cat scratches on the neck. Or, in V’s case, one that refused to stay in the Underworld after being kicked there.

Why didn't he just stay in Hell for good?! That damned Christopher Lancaster?!

"Oh, my!"

V's eyes widened and his protective instincts kicked in as he saw Lady just bump into you. On the other hand, you didn't even notice it when the woman who looked like Audrey Hepburn suddenly, and out of the blue, appeared just like that, and you totally blamed it on your lack of focus.

"Oh, how silly of me!" Lady apologized with a smile as she helped you on your feet.

"It's alright. I wasn't paying attention. I - "

V's eyebrows knitted in confusion as he saw Lady whisper something to you as soon as you got up. He was even tempted to barge in but, when she left a few moments later, he noticed that there was something in her different - colored eyes. A knowing glint,... that apparently only you and her understand.

"My dear, are you alright?" V began asking when he noticed your facial expression changing to a more,... challenging look?

"Yes, I'm,... super!" You answered as you thoughtfully drummed your chin with your fingers. Looking up at him, you touched his arm and said, "I'm just gonna,... fix something."

"P - pardon? Is everything alright?"

"I'll be right back, I promise."

V helplessly watched you as you made your way towards the powder room, and it was definitely not helping with the situation, at all! With Nico, Nero, and his familiars all gone on an errand, he felt his focus vanishing and slipping off his fingers! And being left alone on that unfamiliar dance floor made him feel like he was standing, in the middle of the vast ocean, with about a hundred, hungry sharks swimming about, on a thin sheet of ice that was threatening to break beneath his cold feet!

And he never felt that tensed in his miserable life!

V's eagle sight noticed the musicians as they went back to their pedestal for another round of dance music, and he became all the more nervous for what will occur!

But, he must remain calm! And focused! And -

***

🌸 Okay, this one literally took almost an hour to upload. But, all of a sudden, I developed a strong urge to put V and his beloved into this cheesy 80's music video. It's now 5am, and I'm still singing TAKE ON ME! Oh, rip! Oh, rip, indeed! 😅😅😅 🌸

🌸 @la-vita , @dreaming-gamer , @birdgirl69 , @v-vic , and @hanniskywalker . 🌸

***

"Told you I'll be right back." V heard your sweet and playful voice once more, and when he turned around with vast relief to see you, he was more than shocked!

Your skirt,...

Your beautiful and elegant white skirt,...

YOU RIPPED YOUR SKIRT!

But,... WHY?!

"(Y/N), dear, I don't think that's - !" V stuttered in distress, wanting to blurt out the word inappropriate as gently as he could, as his sight wandered over your bare legs. But, he just could not find any word to replace it. What’s more, he was even beginning to notice the audience taking notice of your sudden change!

"Trust me, V." You reassured him as you smiled confidently at him. Yes, you don't quite trust Lady. But, her words earlier,...

There was no way in hell that she would lie to you! No fricking way!

You looked up at the upper boxes and noticed Fleminger excitedly leaning in closer to his seat the moment the musicians picked up their instruments. A tall guy, followed by two ladies ( probably back up singers ), stepped on the musician's platform and grabbed their own microphones.

Then, the music started.

Oh, Lady was definitely right!

You spread your arms confidently wide in a seemingly familiar pose, waiting for V to take the lead.

A few moments later, V realized,...

The next dance was,... !

***

🌸 Three Wishes 🌸

***

XIII

***

🌸🌸🌸

***

#vitale sparda #devil may cry 5 #three wishes #v x reader #v x you #chapter 13 #dance with me tonight

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musutofu · 5 years

Text

【 Sunrise, Sunset 】 Bonus

It’s hard for Katsuki to accept the reality of the situation even after everything has been spelled out by the lawyer. He’s felt something like this before. The dark, heavy feeling that crashes over him like a tsunami whenever there’s just that one person he can’t save. They’d been counting on him to help because he’s a Hero; it’s what he’s supposed to do. And to fail them feels like he’s not worthy of his title, of his ranking as a Hero. The reality of his career is that you can’t save everyone. It’s impossible to be everywhere at once, to be quicker than a collapsing building, or a spreading fire, or a Villain that could care less about the value of a human life. He’s felt it all more than once and will surely have to sort through it again in the future, but this loss feels like the one that will bring him to his knees. He wants to scream, to fight, to cry, but it won’t bring you back to him. He’d lost you all those years ago with only a pathetic note as explanation but this is a different type of loss. When you left him he knew there was still a chance of seeing you again, of you coming back to him. As the years past he started to lose faith, but his heart never changed. You were the only one for him and now you’re truly gone. At the hands of a Villain, no less. It’s a cruel joke to hear that the one thing he loves the most was taken from him by the one thing he’s dedicated his life to eradicating. It’s no longer an anonymous citizen that’s weighing on his heart but the love of his life and the wave of anguish threatens to swallow him whole.

“The reason you were called in on this case,” the lawyer is back to talking as though anything in the world matters after you’ve been taken from it. What does it matter what he called him for? “Is because the deceased had a daughter. She is set to be taken in by a local orphanage unless you’d like to take custody of her.” If his heart had been broken before it’s crushed to dust and blown away in the wind now. He’d spent these years waiting and hoping against all odds that you’d come back to him one day and you’d already moved on, had a child and started a new life.

“Why the hell would I want her fucking kid?” He growls, tossing a cloak of anger over his despair.

“There are no records of you ever having been involved in the child’s life, but she is biologically your daughter. We’ve had her DNA tested to be sure. Your name is also on her birth certificate as her father and she carries your surname.”

“What?”

“The child is four years old and according to my records there is a month of your relationship with the deceased that overlaps with her pregnancy. I’m assuming you were unaware of it.” Overwhelmed and unable to control his emotions, Katsuki slams his fist on the lawyers desks. The man jumps behind his wire-framed glasses.

“Stop calling her that! She had a name, dammit!”

“My apologies, Bakugou-san.” The man looks shaken by Katsuki’s outburst but he could care less. He drags a rough hand over his face, inhaling through his nose and out through his mouth.

“Am I allowed to meet the runt?”

“Of course, she’s just this way.” The lawyer gives him a wide breadth of space as he passes him on the way to the door. Outside the office, life goes on. An intern rushes past him with a cup of coffee in each hand, the secretary that showed him to the lawyer’s office is back to answering the phone. It’s as if no one cares that such a devastating event has happened. Sure, you aren’t the only casualty of a Villain attack that’s been reported recently but fuck they’re just acting like nothing is different. The world feels like it’s tipped on its axis and the only one that’s noticed is him. The lawyer seems especially uninterested as he leads Katsuki into a room blatantly made for kids. There are animal decals on the walls and toys on the floor, though the room’s only occupant seems incurious of it all. The room was made for kids waiting out their parents’ divorces not kids in mourning.

“That’s her.” The lawyer says. It makes Katsuki wonder if these highly educated people have any fucking common sense. Who the hell else would she be if she’s the only kid in the room? “Her name is Bakugou Yuuki.” The girl looks up at the mention of her name and Katsuki falls to his knees in front of her. Behind the tears are those same eyes he fell in love with all those years ago. They light up when they land on him, a shaky smile lifting her soft cheeks.

“Daddy!” Her arms are around his waist before he can think of a response. Katsuki had thought she was another fan that happened to recognize him without his Hero costume, but her greeting brings him up short. She’s sniffling into his shirt, but rather than being annoyed by the blubbering mess she’s making, he puts a hand on her back. Even at four she’s still so small and Katsuki is unsure of what to do. He can feel her heartbeat through her shirt, feeling the way her body heaves with each sob. He gathers her into his arms with more confidence in the hopes of soothing her. It’s something he’s had to do before but never like this, never for his own kid. And it’s hard to deny that she’s his when her hair is the same ash blonde that he got from his mother and her eyes are exactly like yours. She’s a perfect mix of both of you and Katsuki can’t help but hold her closer.

“I’m keeping her.” Katsuki says fiercely, not bothering to look at the lawyer when he stands with his daughter in his arms. She’s quiet now, wails turning to soft snores as she rests her head against his chest.

“There’s a bit of paperwork to fill out in that case, then you’re free to go.” A bit of paperwork means a lot and Katsuki is reminded of work as he slogs through the pages of legal words that could be in a foreign language for as much as he can understand. Usually this is the part he leaves to his sidekicks but there’s no one to help him through this now and it’s probably better that way. It wouldn’t be good for his image if it got out that he was crying over a civilian’s death. Because that’s what you’d been reduced to. The rising star from U.A. that had her whole life ahead of her disappeared from the media and was forgotten about in light of newer, shinier Heroes. He wonders if anyone would even remember who you were after four years of radio silence. Katsuki decides he doesn’t really want to know as he struggles to properly rig the stupid car seat with the seatbelt. It takes him more time than it probably should have but Yuuki finally gets strapped in safely.

It speaks to the fact that he has absolutely no idea what he’s doing with a child, but hell if he isn’t about to learn. He couldn’t just let them take her away to be with some strangers. A little nagging voice in the back of his head wonders if he’s a stranger. Yuuki had readily recognized him as her father, but that could easily be chalked up to her being told she was brought here to meet her dad. There’s a chance she has no idea who he is and he admittedly has no idea who she is but he’s more than willing to learn. If you’d given him the chance he would’ve loved her as much as he loves you. And even though he’d been heartbroken and angry when you left he can understand why you did it. Being a Hero means risking your life anytime you put your costume on. He’d be less willing to take the necessary risks with his life if he knew there were people waiting for him to come home safely.

Yuuki stirs when Katsuki takes her out of her car seat, looking less haggard than she did at the law firm. He notices a flower sticker on her hand when she grabs hold of his shirt and makes a note to remember to ask if she likes flowers.

“It’s like in the picture!” Yuuki laughs when she gets inside. Katsuki hasn’t moved since you left, pretending you wouldn’t be able to find him if he did. “Mommy said we had a place to live but this would always be home. She said it was because we’d be with you.” Her eyes are still red from crying but the smile on her face is beaming and it nearly breaks Katsuki’s heart all over again. Even if you weren’t here to see it, in the most tragic way, you’ve brought Yuuki home.

#bakugou #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #mha katsuki #bnha katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou imagine #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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spartanguard · 5 years

Text

savage garden, 7/8

Summary: Killian Jones was, by far, the worst, weakest, most ineffectual Dark One ever. (According to the Darkness, at least.) And he was fine with that. He was just a slave, a deckhand—what use did he have of dark magic? And even less want. But the Darkness has vowed to firmly get him under its grasp, one of these days. He finds respite in a beautiful secluded garden—and the amazing woman he eventually meets there. The question remains, though: is it—is she—enough to keep him out of the dark completely? One can only hope…

A/N: Here it is! The last full chapter! Ngl, I got very close to tears a few times...my apologies if the same happens to you! (well, maybe not ;P ) Title comes from “Tears of Pearls” by Savage Garden. Enjoy!

chapter 7: love will be the death...the death of you

Two weeks had passed since Killian sent Emma away—or at least, he thought it was that long; it was hard to judge the passage of time when the shade of light outside the window stayed the same, a never-ceasing storm raging outside his cottage. It was fitting, really, because it matched the emotional one going on inside. No matter what he did, the Darkness refused to be sated.

The sea no longer calmed his racing heart; instead, it elicited an almost agoraphobic reaction to the wide expanse, and the waves too easily mimicked the constant whispers of his predecessors.

He managed to fix the bookcase manually, but every time he sat down to read a novel, the paper ignited in his hand from the constant sparking of magic in his palm; words of romance and fantasy burned away in his grasp.

At the slightest provocation—as simple as stubbing a toe, as terrible as setting fire to one of his favorite books—the magic spiraled out from him, breaking whatever fragile thing was in the vicinity, be it a window or a mirror, or the one time his wooden chair had fractured underneath him. But each time, he immediately mended it via magic; it was effortless at this point.

And he was tired—so, so tired—of fending off the incessant mental abuse.

You’re fighting a losing battle and you know it, dearie. Why are you still trying?

“Because I’ll be damned if I give in,” he replied listlessly, staring at the ceiling from his little-used bed. He’d hoped the sound of the endless rain on the roof might be provide some relief, but it hadn’t yet.

Yes, indeed you will; Hades has been waiting for you for a very long time, I daresay.

“But you won’t let me go that easily, will you?”

Heavens no! We’re just getting started!

He scoffed, but it was half-hearted, and then closed his eyes and tried to focus on the pattering rain on the roof and not the infinite list of tortures and maladies the Darkness couldn’t wait to execute.

Murder is always a good place to start; maybe a spot of famine too? We could start collecting hearts again, definitely...and oh, it’s been so long since we had a genocide...

The impending sense of doom hanging over him didn’t help his growing frustrations or unstable emotions; he felt like he was just awaiting his execution. Would that be what it was like? Would Killian Jones cease to exist, only the Dark One remaining? Or would it be like what happened due his last visit to the garden—would he be an unwilling passenger while the Darkness made a vehicle of his body?

The sooner you give up, the sooner you’ll find out!

His resolve hadn’t waned—but his endurance was flagging.

Blessedly, Emma hadn’t tried to come to him, to change his mind. He knew this was the only way. Part of him wished she had but he knew that, in the long run, she was better off without him. He could only pray the Darkness spared her when he was no longer in control.

Are you kidding? Her? Oh, we have plans for her.

He sat bolt upright, suddenly panicked. “Like what?”

Oh, there’s so many options! It’d be rather silly of us to let the one person who can destroy us run free.

The first image that flashed across his mind’s eye was Emma, begging for mercy.

Then Emma, covered in blood, his dagger dripping at his side.

Then her staring at him, wide-eyed, while a bright red heart glowed in his hand—until it was crushed and she was gone.

Over and over, it played all the ways it could think of to hurt her, each one ending in her death—and nothing he tried would stop the visions from coming. He screamed and yelled at it to end, but no respite came, even when he was sobbing and the storm outside was at its fiercest.

What, you don’t want us to do that? it finally taunted.

“No, please—not her, don’t…” he whimpered.

The Darkness sighed. In all his years, he’d never heard it do that. Well, fine; I suppose you have a point—think of what we could do with power like hers!

The illusion changed; now it was Emma standing over him with a blood-soaked blade, the inky tendrils claiming her for its own and washing away her light, leaving hard darkness in its place. Gone was the glow of her hair and the brightness of her eyes, only ice in its place, and the ruins of the garden behind her.

“You...you wouldn’t.”

Oh, yes we would. Better to control it than to let it control us.

Control...could she do that?

Only if she had the blade...but you’re not that dumb, are you?

He didn’t respond; he just stood and made a beeline for the main room.

We know what you’re thinking.

He pulled the new rug from the floor, tossing it aside with strength he didn’t know he had.

It’s not going to be that easy.

A crash of thunder boomed outside and made him jump; a bit of dark magic flew off of him and shattered the mirror.

Do you really want to see what will happen? Visions of a world cast into darkness, people screaming and crying, the memory of Milah’s death started playing in his head again, bringing him to his knees. Because we’re quite fine with that—and we know you’re not.

“It won’t—she can fix this.”

Why? Because she’s the Savior? Bollocks. Nothing can stop us. The only way to stop is to be stopped.

It felt like the weight of the entire world was bearing down on him. The gruesome images of the Darkness’s dreams wouldn’t leave him be, intermingled with its constant repetition of Emma’s name and his mother’s last words. “Keep your good heart.” It had once been a mantra; now it was just a reminder of all the ways he’d failed.

He was sure he’d crush under the pressure—was sure he could feel his bones impossibly breaking—until he mustered up his last fragment of strength and, with a primal yell, pushed it all away.

The energy of the effort blasted out from him and took the windows with it, letting in the storm. The wind and rain whipped around the room, adding to the frenzied air and pulling at his hair and tunic.

Looking back on the next moment, he must have been using magic unconsciously; how else could he have punched through the solid wood floor in one shot? Anyone else would have incurred serious injury in the attempt but he just pulled his bloodied hand back and tore at the splinters, vaguely aware of the continued cuts and gashes on his hand and forearm as he worked to clear a gap.

At least this time when he pulled out the dagger box, he already had his blackened blood to offer; he wasted no time in tracing the letter on the surface.

But it didn’t open. He tried again, and again, but nothing happened.

You lovesick idiot. Did you forget Milah that easily?

In his rush, he’d been writing E on the box. A rare correct moment for the Darkness. Quickly, he shook his head, drew an M, and pulled the lid off as soon as it released.

The dagger somehow seemed darker when he held it—he swore he could see it’s black veins pulsing in time with his heart, the voices of Dark Ones past whispering even louder. The magic within him sang in its presence.

Now what are you gonna do?

Well, he should probably find Emma. He’d no sooner thought it than he found himself in the garden, the familiar smoke dissipating around him.

“Killian?”

He whipped around at Emma’s voice, and the Darkness began to spark inside as soon as it registered her presence. She was on the other side of the garden but he could still sharply read the expression on her face: confusion, concern, and more than a little fear.

“Emma, please, you have to help me,” he urged, running toward her. She took a step back when he did; he probably looked like a crazed man, but he was desperate. He held out the blade to her when he drew close. “Please—take it away from me. You’re the only one I trust.”

“Take it?” Her eyes darted warily between the dagger and his eyes. “Killian, what are you asking me?”

“Whoever holds the dagger can control the Dark One. Please, love; it’s yours.”

She swallowed as she stared up at him, eyes wide. “I—I can’t do that; I won’t take away your agency like that.”

Ugh, she’s so self-righteous. She’s clearly never held a heart in her hands...but we can change that.

“It’s not taking if it’s being given up,” he explained, then reached for her with his hook. He brought her forearm level with his chest and placed the handle of the dagger in her hand, wrapping her fingers around it. “Please, Emma; for me?”

To his horror, she tossed it aside. “Killian—you don’t need me to; you can do this!” She was holding his hand and hook and trying to meet his gaze, but it hadn’t left the dagger, staring at where it lay cast aside in the grass.

And he was fairly sure his stomach was on the ground next to the blade.

Would you look at that? She just threw you away.

“Killian, do you hear me? You’re stronger than this!”

Just like your father did...and your brother...and all those captains…

“Whatever it’s telling you isn’t true!”

Isn’t it, though?

He finally broke out of his trance to glare at her. “How could you?” he screamed. “I ask your help and get tossed aside?” Dark rage was starting to build.

“What? No, Killian—that’s not—”

“I thought you’d be the one who could do this! I’m trusting you!”

“And I’m so glad you do,” she said, giving him a teary smile as she cupped his cheek. “But Killian—you don’t need me for that!”

Some Savior she is.

“Well some Savior you are!” he echoed; the glass in the lanterns shattered as his magic began to reach out in response to his frustration. “No wonder you couldn’t break your parents’ curse!”

She stepped away, visibly shocked. Deep down, he knew it was a low blow, but he was on his last tether and it was rapidly fraying.

Emma took a deep breath. “You’re better than this.”

No you’re not.

“Am I? Really?” He took an intrusive step into her personal space; the thump of her pounding heart registered in his mind. “Does this look like it?!”

Show her...show her what she’s doing!

A strong breeze swept through the garden; he was fairly certain he summoned it, and the trees creaked in response.

But then he scrunched his eyes shut as he winced in pain; no—she wasn’t doing this to him—it was—it was—it was giving him a headache, splitting him down the middle.

“Killian, come on; fight this!” She was gripping his biceps and there was a cool, soothing sensation emanating from her. He wanted to lean into it, but her magic couldn’t quite permeate the Darkness, which was screaming in his head.

She’s not going to help you! Just take her out and forget her; why bother with people who’ll leave you behind? We haven’t…we’ve been here with you all these years!

The Darkness hadn’t left; it was sad, but true.

“I’m here—we’re both here, you and me—you can do this!”

Until she tosses you away again. She left her family, her kingdom—what makes you think she won’t do the same to you?

She had, hadn’t she? But she’d also pulled him back from the edge—unless he remembered wrong? God, everything was so fuzzy and foggy…the wind picked up and static energy filled the air as light and dark magic collided.

“Listen to your heart; you’re a good man, Killian Jones…”

No, listen to her heart! The Darkness was drowning her out. It’s the only thing standing between you and the peace and freedom you deserve. Her steady heartbeat pounded even louder in his head, shaking him to his skeleton; it was all he could hear.

Take it; take it; take it; take it… The whispered command came from all around, echoing in his head and reverberating off the garden walls. She’s just gonna hurt you; take it…

His cheeks were wet with tears and his voice was raw from yelling. It felt like every bone in his body was trying to flee the one next to it. And he could only see one way out of this agony.

He thrust his hand forward, into Emma’s chest; a shower of sparks fell at the intrusion. She gasped as his grip found purchase on the organ, and gave a small cry as he yanked it out.

Everything quieted then, as if the whole world was shocked: Emma’s heart, glowing a beautiful, pure red, was sitting in his hand; his fingers, with their blackened veins, curled around it.

The stunned silence that followed suggested that no one had thought he was capable of it, least of all him; he and Emma wore similar open-mouthed expressions as they stared at it.

What the bloody hell was he doing?

What you have to do.

“You don’t have to do this, Killian.” Her voice was strained.

Yes, you do.

He...he did, didn’t he?

“This isn’t who you want to be.”

What other choice did he have anymore, though?

None whatsoever.

Do it, do it, do it, do it… the voices were chanting.

Crush it, crush it, crush it, crush it…

He started to squeeze. Emma crumpled to the ground almost immediately.

Yesss, that’s it...oh, it’s been so long!

He squeezed a bit harder, watching as the glow of the heart pulsed faster. Something was definitely changing in him—there was a cold feeling spreading from his spine, not at all refreshing, but not wholly unpleasant either.

Just a bit more and you’ll be free!

Free...he couldn’t even remember what that felt like. He tightened his fist around the heart even more and Emma began to whimper and gasp. From her prone form on the grass, she flipped her head up to look at him, eyes rimmed and red with tears.

We’ll have everything we ever wanted!! Killian was vaguely aware of the scaly texture taking over his skin, but his focus remained on Emma and her heart.

“Please,” she choked out. “Don’t give…” Her eyes were fluttering, about to close for good. He could feel the corner of his mouth pull up in a sinister grin.

Almost there...

She took an arduous, strained breath, and uttered what would likely be her last words. “I can’t lose another person that I love.”

That stopped him. Love? She was on the verge of death... but was worried about his fate?

Don’t listen to her—she’d say anything to get you to stop!

Anyone else would...but not her. He knelt next to her as she lay panting, finally able to catch her breath now that he’d relaxed his grip on her heart.

Finish it! Finish her! the Darkness was demanding.

But he couldn’t hear it anymore when Emma reached up to caress his face. He could feel the roughness of his skin as she brushed her thumb across his cheek and found himself leaning into her warmth.

And he suddenly knew what he really had to do. It had taken seeing Emma in pain to make him realize it, and he knew he’d likely be hurting her further, but it was the only way—the only right way.

What are you waiting for?

“This,” he answered, no longer caring if Emma saw him talking to no one. As swiftly as he’d pulled it out, he shoved Emma’s heart back in her chest.

She gasped and coughed, but then looked up at him, concern furrowing her brow. “Killian?”

What do you think you're doing?

“The courageous thing, for once.”

He took a deep breath to steel himself, then reached inside his own chest, pulling out his own heart this time. He saw Emma reach for him, but she froze before she touched him—a good thing, too, because the jolt from their feuding magic likely would have made him crush it. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt all that much—just a slight tug, and then there it was in his palm. It was encased in a hard black shell, but he could still see a bit of red glow inside; he wasn’t at all shocked it was so dark.

You can’t stop this. Whatever you think your plan is, it won’t work.

“If that means ridding the realm of you, then I have to try.”

And what if you fail?

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” But he was sure. He had no reason to be, especially with the frightened stare Emma wore, but he just...knew.

Carefully, he set his heart in the grass, which turned black and died on contact.

Then he reached over for the discarded dagger.

No! “No!” For the first time, the Darkness and Emma were in agreement.

Emma reached for his shoulder and squeezed. “Killian, you can't do this.” Tears were slipping down her cheeks now.

And he could feel his own brimming. “We both know there's no other way, love.”

You idiot! You absolute imbecile! After all we’ve done for you—keeping your sorry arse alive all these years? This is how you repay us?

“I can’t let you do this; I—I need you, Killian. I—“

“Your family needs you, love. I’m the only one who can do this, so please—let me die a hero. That's the man I want you to remember.”

“Oh, Killian,” she sobbed, cupping his face again. “You already are.”

“I love you, Emma.” It was probably fitting how much this scene reminded him of Milah’s death.

“I love you too.” Without warning, she fisted her free hand in his tunic and pressed her lips against his, firm and soft at the same time. He kissed her back as fervently as he could manage, though it was far less than anything she deserved.

When she broke away for air, he could only pause a second longer in the brief afterglow of the moment.

Stop! You have no idea what you’re doing—you won’t accomplish anything? Do you want to waste your life? Do you want to make her watch you die? We could do so much together!

Gently, he pushed Emma away from him. She was still crying, but gave him an encouraging smile nonetheless. He redirected his attention to he heart and adjusted his grip on the dagger.

You idiot...you lonely, miserable fool. You’re going to die as you lived: a one-handed coward.

The last insult was the final straw. He reared back and drove the point of the blade into his heart, splitting it in two.

Pain greater than anything he’d ever known—worse than any strike or lash, worse even than losing his hand—started burning a hole in him, starting from his chest and quickly bleeding out. Oddly, he wasn’t losing any blood, but those same inky black tendrils that had consumed him all those years ago were leaking out of him at a furious pace.

He wasn’t quite sure when or how he ended up on his back, but at some point, he realized he was staring up at the Darkness set loose as it escaped from its binding and left him behind, no more than a used, broken vessel.

And yet—he’d never felt more free or at peace in his life, because it had been his decision and no one else’s. He knew what would happen and he’d still done it.

The last of the Darkness broke away from him and he dropped back from whatever contortion he’d been in, feeling so much lighter than he could ever recall. Everything was growing dark and his vision narrowed; he must be approaching the end.

And all he could do was smile.

He turned his head to find Emma; she was kneeling in the grass next to his body, his broken heart held in her hands and tears streaming down her face. Amazingly, there was no black on his heart anymore—just that same pure red glow Emma had. He wanted to ponder its meaning, but more so wished he could comfort her—but there was time for neither, and he knew that eventually, she’d be fine without him.

The last thing he saw before falling into oblivion was the bright green of Emma’s eyes, and then everything, including his heart, faded to emptiness.

Oh, sweet rapture! The Darkness was finally free—free of that bumbling burden it had carried for far too many decades; truly free for the first time in its centuries of existence. No silly human emotions to weigh it down anymore; it could do as it pleased!

It had no idea what to do with such a lack of restraint now that it was out of its cage. It wanted to touch everything and everyone, leaving chaos and destruction in its wake. But where to start?

The garden would make a perfect first victim, it supposed—what a better place to sew despair than in what was once a symbol of hope? Unbound, it flew around the space, its tentacles of darkness killing all it touched: vines shriveled, trees shed their leaves and turned black, and one by one, flowers turned gray and their petals fell to ash in the wind.

Imagine what it could do beyond that? The world would fall to darkness, unable to stop it.

Though, one disadvantage to being uncorporeal was quickly revealed when it attempted—and failed—to pick up the now-nameless dagger: there was some perk to having fingers.

The girl...oh, yes, Princess Emma—how could they forget? Such raw, untapped power! It had noticed her own rage and anger...if it could sway her to see things a little differently...oh, there was much fun to be had!

It concentrated its efforts on surrounding her; in her unsteady emotional state, she’d be especially vulnerable—and desperate souls were its favorite.

She flinched when it began to circle her. There, there, dearie; no need to cry over spilled blood.

Her eyes grew wide at its voice and she stood, her stare darting around at the cyclone of malevolence that was closing in on her.

We can dry those tears, if you’d like. And make sure you never shed another.

“Seriously? You expect me to believe that?”

Whyever not? You hardly know me, love.

She breathed in deep at the use of the deckhand’s endearment; just as planned. “Leave me alone; I don’t need you.”

That’s not what you said a few minutes ago. The Darkness echoed her voice from earlier, when she’d told Killian as much; her face crumpled at the sound, to its glee. And you’d be no closer to breaking your parents curse without those books...but maybe we could help make sure you do.

“Never!” she screamed defiantly. “I won’t resort to dark magic to save them; they wouldn’t want me to.”

Even after what they did to the dragon’s child? (Even the Darkness knew to stay away when children were involved; it had some standards, after all.)

She clenched her jaw and glared, having no response.

To think: what happened to that poor thing would all be in vain, because you couldn’t manage to live up to your destiny.

Truthfully, the Darkness was bluffing a bit at this point. As much as Jones had gone mad in its company, it was mostly because the Darkness was equally listless and cut off from the world. It used to be at the forefront of all magical goings-on, so whatever this prophecy was surrounding the girl, it had no idea. But that didn’t mean it couldn’t try to use it to its advantage.

Although...the look of recognition on her face did lead it to worry—she looked like she’d just gotten an idea, and not one that the Darkness would be fond of.

“No, I think that’s exactly what I’m gonna do,” she spat. “I was given all this light magic for a reason; and if I can’t use it to save them, or Killian, then I can at least use it to destroy you.”

I’d like to see you try.

A look of grim, fierce determination took over her face as she closed her eyes and concentrated, holding her arms in front of her, palms up. Oh, she looked like such an amateur.

White sparks began to jump from her palms and the air began to shift a bit. And when the sparks hit the Darkness’s oozing spirals, something strange happened: it hurt.

What—what is this? What are you doing?

It certainly wasn’t the first time the Darkness had squared off against a light magic user, but it was only the vessel that got hurt, not the entity itself. This was new. And not enjoyable in the slightest.

It spun closer to Emma, seeking to drown out her powers, but it was no use: white lightning began to fly from her hands unrestrained, slicing through the column of the Darkness that surrounded her.

Well that wasn’t exactly the way it expected this to play out. All attempts to double down on the girl were failures as it was cut apart by her pure magic, until the pain became too much, like fire consuming its many limbs all at once.

Quickly, the darkest magic ever known to man was crumbling into absolutely nothing, its charred remains disintegrating where they landed and leaving behind no trace of one of the strongest forces on earth.

It managed to scream one last thing before evaporating into the ether.

No more Darkness...

Holy shit. Holy SHIT. She just...she just destroyed the Darkness, didn’t she?

Holy shit.

Somewhere, her mother was tutting at her repeated cursing, but Emma didn’t have the wherewithal to come up with anything more refined or creative. In the span of minutes, she just watched the man she loved die to avoid being consumed by the darkest thing ever, and then she obliterated said thing.

Yeah, she’d been prophesied to do that, and she’d worried it would come to something like this as soon as she met Killian. That was why she tried to keep him at bay at first, not trusting him—and even less trusting of her initial attraction. So much for that.

But that didn’t take away from the adrenaline coursing through her veins next to the surge of magic that wouldn’t abate. She let out a long exhale and tried to shake the sparks out, but they just dripped from her fingers and onto the charred grass below her. The garden was mostly destroyed from all that had happened, but it was a small price to pay for what she’d just accomplished.

No, there was a different price that had been too large—that shouldn’t have been part of the exchange. She knelt back down—well, more like collapsed—next to Killian’s cooling body.

It was odd, seeing him like this. Gone was the shimmery pallor of his skin; she assumed this was how he looked before he acquired the curse: tanned by the sun from long days at sea. But stranger still was that he looked so peaceful—she’d never seen him so relaxed, without the constant weight of his burdens and self-doubt resting on his lean frame. And she hated that it was death that had finally given him that respite.

A drop of water fell onto his linen shirt and was quickly absorbed by the fabric. Then another. After a few, she realized they were her tears, coming back in full force. She’d lost so much in such a short time; why did he have to be part of that?

For a long, long moment, she just let herself cry—for him, for her parents, for her kingdom—as she lay across his chest, holding him close like she only got to once in life.

But then something in the grass caught her eye—something glowing. Killian’s heart. What?

She immediately sat back up and grabbed the broken halves of his heart. As soon as he stabbed it, the hard black shell had immediately dissolved, leaving behind his pure, bright red organ—and she could have sworn she saw the light fade from it completely. But no, there it was: faint, deep in the center of each half, but there was still a flickering, pulsing sign of life.

Another tear fell from her cheek onto the dull surface of his heart from where she’d set them in the grass when the Darkness started encircling her, which seemed to absorb it—and the light got a little brighter. Her heart leapt for a moment, and a spark of her magic burst free from her palm, landing on the other half—which had the same effect. She gasped; did that mean...could she…?

Focusing everything on Killian and not on her own misery, she called on that extra magic running through her, bringing it into her hands with the two halves of his heart. Her tears were still falling on it, creating a sort of magical glue, she figured, as she pressed them back together and used her magic to seal it. The bright light from her palms blinded her for a second, but when it faded, his whole, healed heart was in her grasp, glowing a bright, bold red, and the extra pressure from her excess magic was gone.

She wasted no time in pressing the organ back into his chest, trying to make sure she did it the same way he’d removed his (and, well, hers, but she wasn’t dwelling on that—it wasn’t him who had done that). And then she waited.

And waited.

And waited, staring at his chest, watching for the rise and fall of his breath that should have accompanied the return of his heart. But there was nothing.

She pressed fingers to his neck, right over the little line of freckles she’d just noticed. There was a pulse, but he still wasn’t breathing. Why wasn’t it working?

Immaturely, she shook him, though mostly out of frustration. “Killian, please—can you hear me? Are you there?” His head lolled to the side, but there was no other reaction. “Son of a bitch,” she cursed.

There was only one other thing she could try. She didn’t have much success with it, and it was probably a longshot—but given what their goodbye consisted of, she had to give it a go.

“Killian, I love you,” she whispered, hovering over his face. “Come back to me.” And then she pressed her lips to his, praying that her love was enough to wake him.

Killian wasn’t sure how long he spent there in the comfortable nothingness. There was no light, no sound, no feeling—it was as if he was laying on the bottom of a deep, dark pit, while at the same time floating in a void. Was this the afterlife, he wondered, or merely where the souls of Dark Ones past ended up? Perhaps he’d landed in some sort of purgatory. But he was nothing if not patient, and could wait to find out.

He briefly pondered the fates of those who’d passed before him—his mother, his brother, Milah. Had they traveled through this space, too, or did they head straight for greener pastures?

Wherever they, or he, went, one thing was for certain: Emma wasn’t yet there. He’d so loathed to leave her behind, but she was strong, possibly the strongest person he’d ever known; she’d move on past his sorry self, regardless of the fact that she loved him. At least he’d had that before leaving the mortal plane.

Slowly, a warm feeling took over him, like being washed in sunlight—though it was still dark. He took a deep breath, unnecessary as it was, as he readied for whatever came next. Oddly enough, he thought he felt his heart beating again; perhaps that was just a trick of the afterlife?

For a few long moments, it was just he and the gentle thump-thump in his chest there in the abyss. But then he saw a light, quickly getting brighter until it was nearly blinding.

And he could have swore he heard Emma’s voice.

Suddenly, pain crashed back into him—like lightning striking through his limbs and pressing down on his body, violently reigniting a fire that had burned out. He was gasping for breath, sputtering and coughing—until he felt a familiar gentle touch, and it was all immediately soothed.

“Killian?”

He blinked a few times before his eyes truly adjusted to the light—not as glaring as whatever he just experienced, but still more than the previous emptiness. And the first thing he saw was Emma, hovering over him, a smile taking over her face.

“Emma?” His voice was unsteady.

“It worked,” she whispered. “Holy shit, it worked!”

“What...what happened?” He was dead, right? Did that mean she was...oh, no… “Emma, are you—”

“I’m right here,” she said, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. She felt warm enough, but a tear was falling down her cheek. Beyond her, he saw the garden—but it wasn’t at all how he remembered; it looked much like it did after his very first visit: dead, dried up, dark.

“Where are we?” he asked shakily, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

“We’re still in the garden,” she explained calmly, albeit a bit watery. “You...you were gone and then the Darkness was free, but I—I beat it, or destroyed it, or something, and then—your heart! Oh, your heart—I fixed it, and, and then…” She was rambling and crying and grinning and he only caught half of what she was partially explaining, but the last part sounded loud and clear: “True Love’s Kiss,” she said, reverently.

He was aware of his mouth hanging agape as he stared up at his angel, his actual savior. “I...I’m alive?”

“Yeah,” she nodded.

“And we’re…” He hardly dared to put it into words.

“Mhmm.”

He exhaled and stared up at the sky, where the sun was beginning its descent and leaving a deep blue behind. So he hadn’t seen his last sunset yet, or the stars, or the sea; he had a second chance. It was almost impossible to believe, but as he took another deep breath, and another, it sunk in.

The Darkness hadn’t won. Emma had. Love had.

“Nothing else to say?” Emma quipped nervously, then sniffled. Oh, gods, he’d been silent ever since the revelation—what poor form!

Quickly, he sat up—but immediately swayed in his spot at the rush of blood; he’d have to get used to that, and so many other mortal complaints, again. Emma gripped his shoulders and anchored him as he waited for the sensation to abate, too slowly, in his opinion.

But once the light-headedness passed, he gripped her hand and met her tear-filled eyes. “I...I have no idea what to say to that, love,” he stammered. “It’s nothing I ever imagined hearing, and more than I ever dared to consider or hope for. I’m...I’m speechless.”

“In a good way, right?”

He chuckled, but it came out almost like a sob. “In the best way anyone can imagine. It—you—is more than I could possibly deserve.”

“Hey—enough of that,” Emma said softly, cupping his cheek with her free hand; it felt so, so warm, and he realized all he’d been missing out on. “For starters, that was never true, and it’s even less true now. You deserve peace and happiness, Killian; you always have. And this?” She continued, placing her other hand over his heart, “is the brightest red I’ve ever seen. Not that I have many hearts to compare it to, but just so you know. I love you—I did then and I do now; so much now. So please stop beating yourself up, because today? You were the strongest person I’ve ever seen.”

Tears were free-falling down his cheeks now. “I love you, too, darling. More than I thought I could. Thank you for saving this sorry lost soul.”

Before they could continue down a spiral of platitudes, Emma pulled him close to kiss him, this time in celebration. It wasn’t a particularly long or deep kiss—his return to mortality did inhibit that a bit—but it was sweet and gentle and carried the promise of so much more.

thank you so much for reading! epilogue to come!

tags: @kat2609 @optomisticgirl @thesschesthair @fergus80 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @selfie-wench @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @word-bug @bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @queen-mabs-revenge @killianmesmalls @distant-rose @sherlockianwhovian @effulgentcolors @laschatzi @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @nfbagelperson @the-captains-ayebrows @stubble-sandwich @killian-whump @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @wyntereyez @lfh1962 @bmbbcs4evr @therooksshiningknight @facesiousbutton82

#cs ff #dark killian #deckhand hook #cs march madness #fic: savage garden #my ff

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