#the vulture that hopped over to try and pick at her because it thought she was dead (she was) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

erazonpo3 · 3 years

Photo

(This is a written collaboration between myself and Hemlock/pathygen in the ‘Cassandra’s Tangled Adventure’ AU verse, featuring our characters Alphecca and Violante. This was just a fun little back-and-forth with our two villains set in the period in which Violante has possession of Alphecca’s phylactery.

The formatting is based on our replies, it was really fun to get to write together and watch Violante flex on Alphecca. I’d recommend reading it on my blog’s desktop page for the formatting)

The Eagle and The Mole

Ever since her rebirth in flame and ash, Alphecca hasn’t known the icy grip of cold; yet Countess Violante’s chateau inspires it in her bones. It’s a monument of stone, glass, and drapery, and at this time of night the torchlight in the hallways are extinguished; malingerers are unwelcome. Even the ever-present ache in her chest takes its leave here, something she would have been thankful for if it weren’t Violante’s doing. Her soul burned like a dying star, but since her phylactery fell into Violante’s hands all she has known is its absence— numb apathy— the closest thing she knows to cold.

She’s sure to school her features before entering Violante’s parlour, smoothing out the notch between her eyebrows and the curl of her lips that may as well have been sculpted into her flesh these days. Trinket shrieks at her as she walks past, aggrieved that her delicious bones are today wrapped in the illusion of skin and, on top of that, a stupid uniform. It’s stiff and it pinches in ways she can’t feel but is nonetheless frustrated by, and whenever she catches her reflection in the silverware she can’t help but grimace at the militant emblems and pageantry she advertises. All that’s missing from her marionette costume is the strings.

The Countess is waiting for her as expected, perched perfectly poised on the gaudy piece of furniture she likes to pretend is a throne. She resists the urge to sneer at the pretentious display, if only because Violante would find it so amusing.

“I’m back,” she announces flatly, absently picking at the cuff of her jacket.

“Yes, I noticed.” Violante replies, crystal and calm as a winter morning.

The countess has a quill pinched between her fingers; sharp motions carry the crimson plume across the page laid out in front of her, scratching. The chamber swallows sound and bounces it back. Dim moonlight ekes through tall, arched windows of blue stained glass, and casts a watery pattern against the polished floor.

Violante does not look up at the dead woman.

A minute and a half passes before she finally caps the tiny, neat scrawl on the parchment with a looping signature, rolls it into a neat cylinder, and sets it aside. The feathered end of the quill finds its way between her lips, ponderously. She tilts her head up and her smile is delicate. There’s something of a spider in it.

“That certainly took you long enough. One little village could hardly have been all the effort.” The Countess of Solanales stands with a fluid motion, and folds her arms loosely across her chest. A cigarette smolders in it’s holder on the edge of the desk, filling the room with an oily, herbal smell. She inspects Alpchecca like one might a mannequin stuck in a display, lips pursed.

“Well, at least you kept everything in order this time. See? You can look nice. I knew the collar would be a nice touch. The color accents your eyes, now that you have them in.”

Trinket croaks from her perch. The monochrome vulture returns to preening, bored now that the arguably edible bits of the lich aren’t on display. Violante leans back against the edge of her gilded seat. “So how did it go? Did you make any friends?”

This time Alphecca doesn’t withhold the grimace that curls back her lip to expose a yellowed canine. She’s aware of the way the moonlight makes her pale skin seem especially waxy and sallow, which typically serves to unnerve humans- all save the Countess. Violante’s eyes glitter like a cut diamond as she appraises her, and Alphecca forces her gaze away in a show of deliberate disregard. She stares through the blue washed windowpane to speak to the waxing moon, but keeps an eye on Violante’s figure in her periphery.

“I was just being thorough, I’m sure you can appreciate that. No stone left unturned, no building left standing, everything razed just right, just for you,” she says, flashing Violante a quick, sardonic smirk before returning her gaze to the window. “I don’t imagine you’ll have much of a problem marching your people down there and claiming a new pile of dirt, or whatever it is you do with the ashes. There’s nothing left.”

The moon’s bright glow begins to burn a spot into her vision, but facing the window makes it easier for her to keep her face blank. Her excursion today would be considered a success by Violante’s standards, but she had been sure to cause enough of a racket as she tore through the streets that most villagers had ample time to flee before she tore into the place. If they couldn’t escape even after all the time she gave them, well, Cassandra can’t say she didn’t try.

Under the scrutiny she can’t help but scratch at the briarthorn collar, and she chances another glance back at Violante.

“Thoughtful. I can’t say I have much use for more dirt than I already seem to own, but,” Violante gestures and Trinket stretches her neck. The vulture flaps off the stand and onto the desk with a crooked hop, and remains still while the countess fastens the scroll to her leg. “I’m sure whoever is left will be happy to accept all the aid Solanales is willing to provide, in the wake of their unfortunate devastation.”

Eyes glittering, she crooks a gloved finger under the large bird’s beak and hums. “The world is lousy with monsters, after all.”

And in the end, it was only a barrier town. But every little bit counts, every scrap of seizure. Scraps still. But these were things that couldn’t be rushed. Or shouldn’t have been, if she had been able to stick to her original schedule. Plans were important, but the ability to adapt to a situation was worth even more. Put attention in the right places, stress on the right joints, poison in the right tea.

Or get creative, and toss a skeleton into a henhouse. Ho hum.

“Go on.” Violante says to the bird. Trinket makes a clicking noise low in her throat, and takes off without a backwards glance at Alphecca, winging towards some high and hidden exit. Violante watches her go in silence. She doesn’t expect it will take long for a response, in some capacity, but she doesn’t really plan to wait for one either. Aldara is out in the field somewhere, hopefully stalking her other quarry, but there’s a decent chance both situations will muddle together eventually.

“Now, what to do with you?” Violante turns back to face the dead woman, who looks hilariously unsure. It’s already late, and she needs to keep some space between the raids, as she creeps them closer to the borders of the Iron Kingdom.

Alphecca scowls at the vulture’s retreating form, however glad she’d normally be to see it leave. With Trinket gone, only the two of them remain. It didn’t exactly make for a good buffer, yet in the leering bird’s absence the room tightens with intimacy. Violante and intimacy are her two least favourite things, and combined they manifest as the bane of her existence. The only thing that can make it worse is Violante’s voyeuristic shadow who is thankfully out on her master’s orders tonight, likely committing her own fill of atrocities.

The Countess’ icy veneer betrays nothing of her intentions. In a game where information is everything, Alphecca knows she’s at a woeful disadvantage. If she tries fishing, Violante will know what she’s doing the minute she speaks, no matter how vague or disinterested she comes across— but she might be indulged. It begs the question of whether it’s better to stumble around blindly or sniff out a trail she can’t trust. Either way, she needs to say something- the longer she concedes to silence, the further the scales tip in Violante’s favour.

“How about giving these old bones a rest? You’ll find a siesta does wonderful things for the constitution,” she quips. “I’m assuming you don’t want to cause too much of a stir, anyhow,” she adds, unable to deny the temptation of the gamble. Now she forces herself to keep her eyes trained on the Countess, and settles into a smirk.

“You’re dead, you don’t have a constitution,” Violante drawls.

She glances away towards the window, the picture of disinterest, thinking. Ghostly evening light blankets the room, and flows over the silent collection of statues and armor bordering the walls, the curtained archways. Rooting out the location of the lich’s phylactery had been more of an effort of time and money than anything else. She had a number of contacts stretched over the continent, from tomb takers to Morcant to disgruntled former servants who had once swept the halls of the Spire. The crumbling little ruin of a shrine had seemed like a forgotten afterthought, nestled on the edge of an icy valley north of Ingvarr. The pendant had been wrapped in hay and rue. The plain little goat skull carved into the stone that boxed it had worn smooth with time. It was imagery that had become much more frequent among the information she lately received. So many old stories seemed to be pulling themselves up out of the grave these days. Even keeping the new ones in the ground was proving to be a challenge.

No one died like they used to. The lich had certainly been involved in that most recent of frustrations.

Although, maybe, her decision to poison Cassandra had been a little hasty. She had maybe been a little angry. A little perturbed. Corpses and memories were generally less useful than breathing attendants, even if they were less trouble. People were so stubborn. Still, even there the lich might prove..useful. If that was the way things shook out in the end.

“Besides, we both know rest isn’t really in your cards.” The countess says, stepping down away from the desk, towards Alphecca. Reaching up, she adjusts the collar the lich keeps fiddling with, smooths down the epaulettes on her shoulders. The illusion of flesh truly was impressive. Almost as much as the facade of confidence. “You know, I once heard that a long life eventually deprives you of optimism. They also say that time heals all wounds. People never seem to be able to make up their minds about just how sad they think they’re supposed to be.”

Alphecca wraps her grimace up into a wry grin, though the fury in her eyes burns a palpable heat in the gelid room. Violante ignores said look as she smooths out the creases in her uniform, abusing all sentiment of personal space. The woman isn’t physically intimidating in the slightest; even wearing stilettos Alphecca has to look down her nose at her. But the proximity is unnerving. If her physical body is merely an extension of her soul, then Violante owns both, and she isn’t shy about making it known— so Alphecca does her best to ignore it, training her eyes on the wall in front of her instead of the head of perfectly coiffed curls only a breath away and the nails that cross her clavicle to smooth over her shoulders.

“In my experience, more time is just an avenue for more procrastination,” she admits. It’s the truth, or at least it’s her truth, and there’s no harm in admitting it- the information has no value to Violante. If the Countess got her claws on immortality, the last thing anyone should be concerned with is if she were happy or sad.

“People also say that destroying people’s lives and livelihoods won’t make you happy, but we both know that’s not true,” she adds. She hasn’t actually heard anyone say that, but it’s one of those unspoken things- and it’s wrong. Schadenfreude and victory are one hell of a cocktail.

“A common adage, is that?” Violante hums, stepping back. “Stagnation is hideous. And regret is a waste of energy. If you’ve really wasted all this time waiting for a death that’s never going to come, then it’s fortunate I came along to make better use of your… afterlife.” She tilts her head. “Especially considering that I found you rooting around in a cave, talking to bones. I can’t imagine skeletons make for very good conversation.”

For once, Alphecca isn’t bothered by the barb. She wastes her time however she pleases, spending her years harassing new villages until she gets bored and moves on, or searching for new fossils to reanimate, playing in the dirt. She knows she’s a disappointment but that’s how she’s come to like it— fuelled by the spite of those more ambitious than her who have to watch her gnaw on the unending life they can’t have. That is, until Violante took it from her.

With more distance between them now, Alphecca releases a breath; it’s unnecessary, but calming all the same.

“They make better company than your pets, at least,” she says. They don’t talk back, for one thing, but she’ll keep that part to herself. All the bones she finds have very interesting stories to tell, but unfortunately Violante’s dreadful companions only find them useful for teething.

“Tsk. Oh, kettle.” Violante says, sotto voce. She has very little interest in making any argument about the quality of company Aldara or anyone else brings to her circle. She doesn’t keep them around for their people skills. Mostly. The countess reaches out to tap the bottom of her jaw. “You’re so uncertain for a corpse. You chatter so much for a tool. But if that’s the way you feel…” A thoughtful pause, wintry silence. Violante steps past her, the dark pool of her gown trailing on the floor. “Come.”

“What, you’re not a fan of our stimulating discussions?” Alphecca jeers, cocking her head. Blunt as they are, words are the last weapons she has in this fight, but she turns to follow her nonetheless. She kicks her feet up off the ground to hang a foot in the air to let the click of Violante’s heels echo down the hollow hallways alone, creeping behind her like a spectre.

She’s hesitates, trailing behind at a healthy distance, but she can’t deny her curiosity is piqued.

“I think your talents lie elsewhere.” Violante answers without turning around, wry. The castle is large and cold and strikingly empty of people. There are servants, courtiers, of course, but this late at night the work has gone to ground. Most of them, having been around this long, have learned to work out of sight, or in silence. Violante lifts a low burning candelabra from a table in the tapestried hall, wax dripping into the filagree crevices that tomorrow will be picked clean again before she wakes. The halls stretch on, half covered portraits lining the walls, tall arched windows that continue to leak in cool evening light. Violante takes them down, towards the ground floor, and eventually comes to rest in front of a heavy, ornate door set back far from the main vestibule.

“Wait here.” she commands, and without stopping, the countess takes off down another hall and vanishes around the corner. She returns about ten minutes later, unchanged and smiling. In her hand is a small pouch, dangling with a loop of cord that she drapes around her neck. She nods at the door. “Shall we?”

Alphecca lingers back as she follows Violante through the chateau. She’s no stranger to silence, and she can even appreciate the servants’ scarce presence; humans can be such annoying creatures. However, there’s a hostility that comes with the quiet— an unspoken threat that has butlers and maids scurrying away like rats in the corner of her eye, only daring to move when the Countess strides past.

She halts when instructed, taking the time to inspect the portraits of Violante’s ancestors while she waits. The dim light is no obstacle as she takes in the details, sneering at the pompous Lords and Ladies that line the walls. The different fashion styles over the centuries blend together in her mind, but she recognises the distinct ruffles that predate the Shampanier Era crossing over to the more modern style of headdress, evolving across the row of portraits. They have matching brutal, patrician features and cold eyes, and their arrogance is palpable even through the oils. She wonders if Violante sees them as an inspiration or an embarrassment.

Alphecca drops to her feet when Violante arrives, eyeing the new fashion accessory.

“Ladies first,” she gestures in a parody of an usher, trying to avoid the sense of dread that accompanies the sight of the heavy wooden door.

“True.” Violante says agreeably, placing her gloved hand on the door. In the other she still clutches the flickering candelabra, and the light plays shadows against its surface. The front of it is carved with vines and flowers, mountains and snowflakes. It opens with a heavy grinding sound when she tries the handles, with some effort. Cobwebs stick and pull between the gap, and Violante sneers a little at the dust that collects on her fingertips. A staircase leads down into darkness. It reeks of earth, dry and undisturbed.

Violante’s face remains impassive as she starts down the steps, the click of her heels ringing against the stone. The walls are featureless rock, and roots start to press through the gaps the farther down they travel. Eventually the stairs level out onto a narrow, dark, landing. Violante moves with a caution in the dark that relaxes when she finds the torches set into thick pillars that frame the entrance, and she lights them with the candle flame. Orange light fills the cavern.

“Homey, I imagine.” she says. “But still better than what you were used to.”

It is a tomb, of course. More a mausoleum, seemingly built into the naturally limestone cavern underneath the castle. The roof of the crypt rises up high above the chamber, arched ribs and all angles like the inside of a cathedral. Violante doesn’t pause in her intrusion, gliding down the center aisle with a curious fervor, idly stroking the covered parcel around her neck. She finally stops as they near the back of the chamber, in front of a stone dais that elevates two, long, solid coffins. Side by side, in their lofty place of honor. Violante sets the candles down. She looks back at the lich.

She says, “You’re going to wake them up.”

Violante isn’t wrong to assume that the cavernous underbelly of the castle is more comforting to Alphecca than the bleak architecture and furnishing upstairs, but it’s still far from homely. The crypt is stale and azoic, lacking the warm smell of rot and soil that accompanies her usual hovels. Nonetheless she does feel more at ease here, and it takes the tension out of her shoulders.

“Is this mum and dad? I didn’t really take you for the mournful orphan type,” Alphecca says, her smirk eking into her voice. She approaches the left coffin and slides a hand over the lacquered wood, which is stained with black and ornately carved. The golden filigree is finely engraved and the craftsmanship of the coffin itself is masterful. A thrill runs through her bones; as disinterested as she is in the coffin’s inhabitants, she’s eager to see what bijous and tchotchkes she’ll find inside.

It takes her mind off of Violante’s request. Resurrecting one body, one soul, takes more effort than she is usually willing to expend. Two isn’t out of the question, but it’s going to take time. There are shortcuts she could take-

No. She’ll take all the time she needs.

“I can do it for you, but it’s not going to be quick or easy. I’m assuming you want more than just a couple of braindead puppets, after all,” Alphecca states, glancing carefully at Violante.

Violante watches the dead mingle, the old and the ancient. There’s a stone bench opposite the dais, maybe long ago a place meant for prayer or meeting. The back of it curves up into a chiseled swan’s head, with the beak broken off. She sits, and crosses her legs, eyes lidded, observing Alphecca as she circles the caskets. The lich’s interest is evident, undisguised. She’s being so nice.

“Mmm.” she confirms, very calm. “Lady Fiore and Count Viator. I poisoned them when I was seventeen.”

She draws a finger across the jagged beak of the swan and rubs the grit between her thumb and forefinger. The black fabric of her gloves are already powdered with dust. Idly, she pinches one finger and slips it the long glove off, stretching her hand in the cool, dry air of the crypt. The tips of her fingers are stained purplish-black, even deep under her nails.

“They need to be able to speak, and answer questions truthfully. I’m not especially worried about mobility, but memory is important.” She tilts her head, dark eyes focused on the bone witch. “How long? Describe the process for me.”

Alphecca’s lips twist as Violante confesses to her parents’ murder, but continues to investigate the coffins.

“Well, the process involves bartering with Death, binding the soul to an anchor and then binding said anchor to your will- it’s something that can take months, depending on how long it takes to get the reagents, and that’s just for one soul. Doubling up will save time, but even you don’t have infinite resources,” she explains.

Without asking Alphecca lifts the nearest coffin lid, and lets out an involuntary whoop at the burst of pungent aroma. There’s not much left of the carcass itself, despite what she’s sure was a vigorous embalming. Corpses are meant to return to the earth, and the ones buried above ground have a messier time of trying to find it. Lady Fiore’s robes are completely soiled with corpse juice, but she’s surrounded by a few glinting baubles that could still be disinfected- although she’s sure Violante won’t let her play with them.

“A fresh corpse is always easier to work with, but it’s just as well you kept the remains at all- souls will anchor to their own bodies with less of a fuss,” she says, disregarding all the loopholes that come to mind. With a snap of her fingers Fiore’s bones glow a pale blue, battling the orange torchlight for a moment before it subsides. It’s a basic preservation spell that she uses on all her creatures to protect their bones from the elements, which she hopes Violante will take as a sign of her veracity.

“You’ll find my resources will more than suffice.” Violanate says. “Considering the state of your previous arrangement, and what you’re used to.” Scrounging around in the shadows and the muck couldn’t have been all that profitable for the lich. Procuring things, especially things of an elusive nature, is not usually a problem for her.

The stench that emanates from her mother’s coffin is certainly vile enough. Violante’s nose wrinkles, and she nearly rolls her eyes at the bone witch’s obvious enthusiasm for it. For a moment she has to tilt her head to the side, and she brings the pouch around her neck closer to her face. There’s baby’s breath and rosemary inside: a good dampener, or so she’s been told. The Countess is not unfamiliar with corpses, but they’re usually less decayed, and less in her face. She could have used a stronger perfume.

“Useful little spell.” She says, turning back to face the dais.

And then, “..bartering with death.” Violante drawls, stretching the words out slowly. That has her curiosity piqued. Something about it, a string to tug. “Like it’s a person.”

Alphecca hums absently, neither in agreement or disagreement.

“I suppose we’ll see,” she says. She swipes a thumb over Lady Fiore’s cheekbone, imagining how the muscle would have wrapped across it and how the skin might have sat on top. Her sharp jawline mirrors Violante’s, and she’s willing to bet they shared the same nose. She was no doubt a very attractive woman in her prime, and Alphecca finds herself almost frustrated that she’ll be deliberately prolonging the reconstruction process.

She crosses over to the coffin on the left but her fingers tapdance across the lid, and her head perks up at the mention of Death.

“Well, yeah- okay, she’s not really a person, but she’s the shepherd between this realm and the realm where lost souls are... supposed to go, and you’re not going to get a soul back from the realm of the dead without her noticing,” she explains, smiling at the memory of the spectre. Absently she traces shapes in the dust of the coffin lid as she continues.

“It’s far simpler to make a trade with her than to try and steal one, but that’s still easier said than done.”

Having to watch the lich inspect and handle her parents' remains doesn’t seem to phase the Countess very much. Legs crossed, she sits back on the mourning bench, and rests her chin on the back of her fingers.

“‘She’. You make a trade with death.” Violante repeats, not a question. “What could..death-the-entity possibly want in exchange for a soul?”

There’s a visible sneer on her face at the word soul. It’s not that she doesn’t believe in spectres or spirits: she’s essentially speaking to one, even if it’s trapped in a bone. The concept of anything trying to tell her what to do, even after death, dissatisfies. Even at a young age, playing with her first herbs and poisons and staining her skin, Violante knew that she wasn’t going to go until she was good and ready.

She can guess what the lich might think of her. The many things, every terrible notion. Most she’s probably right about. But Violante has no interest in living forever. Cavorting around for centuries as a moldering corpse isn’t an appealing notion, and it obviously hasn’t done the witch any favours. No. She is going to build something great. Something right, something hers.

In the end, if it is really worthy, it will outlast her.

And if it’s not...well.

Violante hums, “Longing for death is a bit of a cliche, even for you.”

“Depends,” Alphecca shrugs. “Sometimes she asks for help wrangling the ghosts that refuse to let go, or she has a specific soul in mind, or sometimes she just wants a favour to keep in her pocket. There’s always some kind of catch though, because she’s hardly going to ask for something she can get herself.”

Even if she weren’t already planning on delaying the process, she anticipates bargaining for two souls will be the most difficult part. Bartering with Death isn’t exactly something she makes a habit of; she can count on one hand the amount of times she’s made the deal, and every time had brought its own headache. Just the memory of it is enough to make her head hurt, so she turns her attention back to Violante.

“Yeah, well. Even you’d be begging her to come take you after long enough. You and I both know Death can be a mercy,” she says with a smirk, and cracks open dear father’s casket.

Help, promises, wayward souls. “That’s a lot out of death’s reach.” More than one would think, for such a definite force. Violante listens to the dead woman without looking up, thinking, rubbing the pad of her thumb across the velvet pouch dangling from her neck. There is another wave of foul scent, all earth and rot. The sound of heavy stone dragging on stone. Her father had been a count of some notable prowess. He had been good at getting people to listen, and always spoke with confidence. Curt at times, but he shared a warmth with her mother that would have seemed anathema to the traditional Solanales chill, to anyone outside of their family. They were a private people. Violante had loved her parents. She had loved them even when she was putting them in the ground.

“Who said anything about mercy?” The countess murmurs, tilting her head, a silver-dark curl of hair sliding over one side of her face. Wintry, she says, “How long is this going to take you? Approximately, for one body?”

Alphecca rakes a finger down Count Viator’s sternum, making a mental note of his measurements. She’s sure there’s a portrait somewhere in the castle she can look to as a reference for their bodies, which are clearly tall but perhaps wider than their frames let on. Violante’s voice echoes in the cavernous room, yet the words themselves float around in the air. There’s a few trinkets scattered in the coffin, rings and jewels and heirlooms; they’re gaudy and expensive, but far from valuable to the dead. The sudden change in the intonation of Violante’s voice catches her attention, and she only catches the tail end of her question.

“Hm? Oh- well, for one? It’d normally take around a month or so to source all the reagents- meat, ivory, rare herbs and spices and whathaveyou- then somewhere between one to two weeks to build the body itself. After that it really depends on what I need to do to recover the soul,” Alphecca explains, finally dragging her eyes away from the remains.

“And of course, I wouldn’t want to rush perfection.”

“How thoughtful,” Violante drawls. “But they don’t need to be perfect, just functional. Enough to answer what I want to ask of them. You fare well enough without lungs. Or gray matter.” The countess tilts her head again. “They’re going right back in the ground after I’m finished with them.”

Pushing away from the bench, Violante stands with fluid, gossamer grace. Holding one arm loosely tucked around her waist, she climbs the steps and despite the reek, peers slowly into each of the caskets, expression unreadable. Swipes one stained fingers against the dust collected on the stone lip, rubbing.

Almost conversationally, she looks back and says, “Tell me what you need, and you’ll have it within a week. If not sooner. We have the merits of civilization here.” With a surprising amount of ease, Violante leans back against her mother’s grave and lifts herself into a sitting position on the skewed cover, ankles crossed. She smiles, her mouth a sharp, dark slash. “Three weeks, I think, is more than enough time for you to finish the work.”

Very slowly, she lifts the velvet pouch and threads it open. The amulet is heavy, and Violante curls it’s chain delicately around her fingers, thumb hooked under one of the horns. Scarlet light suffuses her from below.

Coy, Violante hums, “If you put your mind to it.”

Alphecca scowls at Count Viator, cursing him for ever procreating.

“If you want a botched job, then fine,” she sneers, bristling at the intrusion on her oasis. The presence of the phylactery is like a sneeze sitting at the back of her nose, painless and yet impossible to ignore. However, the Countess has extended her a favour in the same token, providing her the irritation necessary to redirect her attention elsewhere.

“The souls of the dead don’t tend to like being torn from their peace and shoved back inside their corpses, and the further the vessel is from their actual flesh and blood, the harder it is to attach them. And if a soul doesn’t attach properly, then you’re going to have a very uncooperative, likely half-braindead, pale imitation of your dearly departed loved one. So it’s your call,” Alphecca explains, drumming her fingers on the coffin lid.

It’s a gambit for more time, but the phenomenon of corrupted souls isn’t unheard of. And it’s not exactly something she’s keen on dealing with.

And then there was silence. It was followed by the shrill whistle of a lofty wind, swiftly swallowed by the cavern, sucked down. Above, a jagged crack in the apex of the cave opened up to mountain air and evening sky. Snow-melt had formed thin icicles which dripped with languid precision onto the old stone. There were some places within the cavern where if you listened close enough you could hear the sounds of running water; more runoff that was kept flowing by the warm channels that ran all underneath Solanales. The recessed thermal rivers: mineral rich, were responsible for the health and diversity of the medicinal herbs the county was able to cultivate. Her father had shown her maps, long ago.

Violante regards the lich cooly. The sneer; the constant flow of excuses, the obstinance. There is a moment before she speaks, where the slick consideration in her dark eyes slides towards bored. Just as quickly, the flat stare is replaced with a knifelike flash of malice, penetrative and acute—then a return to hawkish study.

“You’re right,” The countess says smoothly, examining the blemished fingers of her free hand, “it is my call.” She tilts her head, and wrly continues, “..and if I cared about what they liked, I wouldn’t have killed them in the first place.”

The glow from the amulet gives her skin a rosy tincture it doesn’t usually possess. Violante places her empty hand back on the coffin lid behind her, relaxing back into a lounge.

“Alphecca…” her voice is deadly soft. She rarely uses the corpse’s name. She’s never seen much point. The countess peers down at the phylactery, slim fingers curled under the horns and through the chains.

“You know, this really was remarkably easy to find. Time; a few simple exchanges of gold, a barter with a like-minded contact—who will no doubt realise, eventually, the true cost of that information, and likewise, the great loss she would accrue attempting to take it back.”

Calm, easy, her posture is that of a woman relaxing in a parlor; not an arm's reach away from her mother’s seeping skeleton. Violante runs her thumb up the side of the crystal. It’s warm, with a steady, pulse-like thrum.

“That is a part of what it means to have dominion—to have dominance. Laying the foundation. Control over people and their emotions, so that they don’t go spinning them out into actions they haven’t thought over properly. Something always there, in the back of their minds.”

With a sly smile, Violante tilts the amulet. “Like this.” Her fingers tighten, squeeze around the pulse.

“Come here.” she commands.

The Countess’ silence brings the familiar weight of dread, the coils of her contemplation winding and tensing before their inevitable release. The use of her name, soft as it is, is like the snap of a twig; the arrow is coming next, but she has nowhere to run. When Violante speaks, her words are dripping with nightshade, and Alphecca pays less attention to the words as she does those eyes and the way they peel back the illusion of her flesh. How long ago was it that Zhan Tiri had stood in her place, holding the phylactery that they’d created together, swinging it before her like an aberrant hypnotist? The image lingers in her mind, branded into her being, and it burns again now. Violante holds her ransom with equal avarice and even more capriciousness.

She doesn’t fight the command.

One foot drags after the other, pulling her away from Viator’s putrid remains towards his fetid offspring. The ends of her hair dance in the waves of heat that surge from her body, casting her pallid skin in the same glow mirrored in her bottled soul, and her sclera seeps with augural ink. She looks down her nose at the Countess, but stays mute; her glare speaks for itself.

“Oh, that face again,” Violante smiles slyly as the lich draws near. “You looked at me like that the last time you tried to get me to break this. For all that trite dribble about souls, they pack rather nicely into tight spots, hm?” She lifts the phylactery and lets it dangle from her fingers again. The carved crystal twists, shedding ruby light.

Tilting her head, the countess adds, “..though honestly the sheep-theme is a little provincial for my taste.”

From her perch on the coffin lid, she and the lich are almost at eye level. Idly, she taps the curled horns of the amulet against her lips, and takes a moment to inspect the flickering hair, warmed by the unnatural heat in the cold center of the crypt. She’s seen the witch dressed in bone before, skeletal, human then very much not. She hasn’t yet been able to divine whether the flesh is an illusion, or a simulacrum.

“...you know, it’s almost funny,” she says after another moment, musing. Gently, Violante reaches up to take Alphecca’s chin between her fingers, feeling for bone or for the presence of a seam. Without much force, she tilts her face left, then right. “The creature that made you this way got to die before you, didn’t it? Whether it wanted to or not. And even though it’s gone, you’re still here. That’s an impressive act of malice I’m not even sure I could aspire to.”

She brushes a strand of winding hair behind the dead woman’s ear, the fingers of her other hand wrapped around the amulet. They rest there, lingering.

“Mercy,” she hums, “Death. Do you really think that force regards you as anything more than a vague afterthought? Do you know why?”

Close, her eyes are dark and flat. When she smirks, her lips part, and there’s something of a serpent in it. The fingers set behind the corpse's ear hook suddenly, sharply. “It’s because you’re a commodity.” Softly, “A body. It was a waste having you be as you were before: running loose, childish and deranged. Whatever worth you had was decided on ages ago by something greater, and then discarded in one instant, only to be defined again, now, by me. That’s the only thing that matters here.”

Drawing her hand back, Violante twines another piece of fiery hair around her stained, lacy fingers. The amulet beats a rhythm against her palm. “Like that little village you destroyed. Garbage, right? But now, it’ll be built up again into something useful—desirable. Not only as a consequence of my birthright, but because I have the power to make that happen, and the will to speak through it. Because that’s the zeal the world recognizes. In the end, it doesn’t matter who you are or who you’re trying to be. Whether you’re a shambling monster… or a wayward sword, I’ll use the power I have; my proof of conquest, to assert my will—” a rough tug on the strand of hair, closer “—and change the meaning of value.”

Silence, and the drip of distant water. Violante lets the strand slide free from her hair, and inspects her hand with distant disinterest.

“Three weeks,” she says cooly. The phylactery thrums in her grip. “Don’t ever try to argue with me again.”

Alphecca’s phantom heart thumps in her hollow chest. Words intended to cut to the quick come close to their mark, but nothing Violante says can slice deeper than the futility of her situation. She can’t remember needing to gasp for air like this, not for a long time. And yet for all her vast networks of contacts and flies on the walls, Violante doesn’t know everything. She clutches that thought like a final matchstick in the dark, for all its limited warmth. The Countess doesn’t know Death; not like she does. And she’ll get those souls that she wants, and she’ll do her finest job— but Violante’s not the only one that has strings worth pulling.

For as tainted as Violante’s hands are, they’re still warm. Blood pulses right to the tips of her fingers and beats against her false skin, and she feels its absence when her hand draws away. Alphecca responds with a cock of the head, and a sneer.

“I’d better get going, then.”

#cta au #alphecca #violante #my art #my writing #and also hemlock's but that's just my fic tag

52 notes · View notes

guessimjoiningthespidermanfandom · 3 years

Text

It Takes Two to Tango

Peter Parker x bisexual!reader

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Peter Parker x black!reader

Peter Parker x villain!reader

Warnings: Language, guns, knives, violence, self destructive behavior, mentions of mania and depression, mentions of bipolar disorder, descriptions of tattoo guns, slight slut shaming maybe, a bong, allusion to corrupt government, mentions of prostitution, mentions of parental neglect, and mentions of piercings.

Word Count: 6.5k

Songs: Drew Barrymore- SZA, No Role Modelz- J.Cole, Baby Blue- Action Bronson, Little Dark Age- MGMT, Gansta- Kehlani, Shutter Island- Jessie Reyez, Good Days-SZA, King’s Dead, Kendrick Lamar, and Saint Bernard- Lincoln.

“Which was odd because usually he talks the most on these rides. After we got over the initial awkwardness of the whole fire and Vulture thing we fell back into the way of things. Well if he was going to play this game I would too because what’s that saying? It takes two to tango.”

A/N: Hold on tight a lot goes down and it’s not looking up anytime soon.

Series Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

I was running faster than I’d ever had before the heels I had been trying on? Not helping my case. Since this is apparently my brand now I backed myself up onto the edge of the building.

I had a gun trained on me.

“Come with us Y/N please,”

“No! Who the fuck is Y/N?”

“Don’t play dumb ma’am we’ve done extensive research on you and we see you’ve done the same with us,”

I rolled my eyes.

“Fuck you! I have no idea what you’re talking about and this is harassment,”

“You’re cornered there’s no way out,”

The man wasn’t going to shoot me. No one would’ve come all the way out here and have chased me for this long when they had a gun if they were really planning on killing me. They would’ve done it already. And if this was who I thought it was I was not going with them.

“Just come with us, we’re on your side, we’re not trying to hurt you,” That sounds exactly like someone who was going to hurt me would say.

“Yeah says the man who has a gun aimed at me,” I rolled my eyes.

“This is simply a safety precaution, just make this easier for everyone,”

I looked back at him before making my decision. I was getting the hell out of here now.

I bent backwards towards the street underneath me. Instead of free falling I put my hands behind me going into a backbend kickover grabbing onto the ledge.

Using my legs as a propeller I launched myself closer to the wall. I’d gotten lucky and the walls had protruding bricks that I could scale.

The man who I think was from SHIELD was hot on my tail. So I had to move fast. I scaled my way to the nearest balcony jumping into the pool in a leap of faith.

I’d made it in thankfully. Guess my story wasn’t over.

Then I had to run. I was running down the streets. Thankfully this was New York and no one would bat an eye at someone who was drenched head to toe running down the street. They’d just pass me off as another nut job and go about their day.

So much has happened I feel like this is an episode of shameless. You really were too busy to tune in last week you skank ass bitch? I almost died twice and I still managed to check in, whatever, just pay attention to the next clip.

“So that building exploded and that loud siren noise I think I told you about was going off in my ears and when I left the plane with Vulture and Spidey were fighting by a crashed plane and Vulture put too much power onto his wings and they were gonna blow up. And I got mad like fucking top of the anger iceberg mad. So when I was like on the verge of blacking out like fucking fire came out of my hands and disintegrated those wings. Like they turned to ash before my very eyes. Then I had a panic attack of course and that’s pretty much it,”

“Uh… I just called you here to tell you I found something about that SHIELD guy who came after but, I’m glad you’re okay,” Felicia told me.

“Sorry… I guess I got too excited,”

“What'd you find?” I moved over to her in her spinning chair.

“Look and see for yourself,” She moved out the way.

I sighed plopping down onto the small twin bed.

“I know what you’re doing,” I said, picking up a piece of popcorn.

“What are you talking about?” Carmen asked as if she was genuinely confused.

“You’re trying to trick me into eating and sleeping, which is totally not fair because if I want to wallow in self pity I should be able to,”

“I know what happens when it gets bad and I’m not letting you get there again,”

I sighed again. She is always claiming that she sees herself in me and she wants me to be the best version of myself.

She acts like since she’s one year older than me that she’s my mentor or something.

Plus she also thinks I have an undiagnosed and untreated bipolar disorder so who’s to say everything else she says isn’t a lie also.

We were watching a Wrinkle in Time and I knew I was going to cry when the girl’s dad came back. I always did and I didn’t want to cry today.

“Wanna go do something?”

“Sure... Where are we going?”

“Out,”

I tried on a lot of Carmens clothes and ended up wearing the most extravagant outfit I’d ever worn. I felt extremely giddy for no reason in particular. I was wearing a puffy skirt and corset. We were walking about the streets of Brooklyn with no clear destination in mind just talking.

“I just find it funny that all you have to do to be famous on Tiktok is be white and skinny like smoke a cigarette in a subway station or some shit,”

“Why don’t we get famous?”

“Now how would we get famous,” I poked.

“I’m offended that you don’t think we could,” She stopped on the side of the street.

“Gimme your phone,” She demanded in a kind way.

I plopped it into her palm.

I’d honestly forgotten where I was for a second because I’d zoned out yet again. She put the phone back in my hand and she had made a Tiktok account for the both of us.

She was only checking to see if I liked the account name because she took the phone right back afterwards.

I didn’t mind.

“I should get a tattoo right?” I asked, putting another one of the chamoy gummy worms in my mouth.

“How many do you have now?”

“I think like twelve?”

“And that’s not enough for you?”

“Noo! I like the ones I have. I just want a bigger one.”

“Then do it?”

We were actually in walking distance of a tattoo parlour I just didn’t trust them. Never cheat on your nail tech or hairstylist and it goes the same for tattoo artists.

Two subway rides later we were in Queens. I walked up to the front desk and was about to ask for my go to artist but she walked out the back room before I had the chance.

“Y/N, ‘s that you?” She asked.

“The one and only,” I twirled around in my dress.

“This dress is very different than your usual style but I can’t say I don’t love it,” She pulled at the fabric then glanced up her eyes, lighting up in recognition. She gasped “Is this Carmen?”

I nodded “My bad lemme introduce you to each other. Carmen this is Enchantress and you already know Carmen apparently,”

I’d played a Russian roulette sort of thing with my tattoo Pinterest board just clicking one with my eyes closed. Then there was the buzzing of the gun moving along my skin. Puncturing it in a way that felt extremely bittersweet.

I never understood people who said tattoos hurt. I could always barely feel them. They felt like a simple scrape over your skin. Also at this shop they still give you the wrapping for your tattoo but it’s filled with ink still so you can move it around in the bubble. I like messing with the ink sack. I think that’s why I come here so often.

I was admiring the tattoo on my lower abdomen in the mirror when I was startled.

“Wait!” Enchantress exclaimed, starling me “I just realized you got a piercing. Come here,” She beckoned.

She turned towards me

“It’s actually super straight, did you do this?”

I opened my mouth to respond when Carmen answered for me.

“No, some girl did it for her in her school bathroom,” I really gotta stop telling her everything. She’s always snitching on me.

“I want to be mad but I can’t because it actually looks super healthy,” She titled my chin up to get a better view “However if it gets infected I’m beating your ass,”

We exited the shop after I paid well, Carmen paid but I’ll pay her back. There was a pretty hefty discount too, because Enchantress loved me apparently, I loved her too. She’s an older sister figure like my role model. I mean she was when I was a few years younger. I think I’ve grown out of role models.

I felt a sharp uncomfortable sensation in my body which sort of felt like those anxiety brain zaps but located in my abdomen.

I looked behind me and there was something off about this man who was standing a few feet behind me. I accidently made eye contact with him and he bolted off.

Weird.

“Y/N are you even listening to me?”

“Huh,” I turned in Carmen’s directions “Sorry what'd you say?”

“I was saying that since you got a tattoo, I’m gonna cut and dye my hair,”

“Cool what color?”

“I don’t know yet let’s go just to CVS ‘nd decide there,”

I was sitting on the kitchen counter behind the chair Carmen was in as I applied the bleach to her hair singing along to the song playing.

Why is it so hard to accept the party is over?

You came with your new friend

And her mom jeans and her new Vans

I set the bowl of hair bleach onto the counter hopping down to get ready for my favorite part of the song.

And she's perfect and I hate it

I sang it loudly moving my hands around like I always do releasing my energy. It was almost like therapy. Who am I kidding SZA is therapy.

I used the bathroom and I couldn’t find soap. I looked under the cabinet and found the soap. I also found something else I wasn’t expecting to see. I brought it back into the kitchen with me.

“You have a hello kitty bong?”

She grabbed it from my hands examining it.

“Well actually I stole it from my sister,”

“No way, this is Dinah’s? Because she just got ten times cooler,”

“All I know was she got back in college, then she just stopped using it,”

I finished Carmen’s hair which for some reason she trusted me enough to cut curtain bangs for her honestly they didn’t look too bad. It was just very time consuming.

“Okay but are you sure, how’d you know he’s gay?” Harry questioned leaning back to look at the kid again.

“Just watch,” I raised my voice just enough for him to be able to hear me “Charlie!”

He turned around as if he were stunned that I was talking to him.

“Who me?” He asked.

“Yes you,”

“Oh,”

“So can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah sure I guess…”

“What’s your favorite Percy Jackson book?”

“The answer Lightning Thief is pretty basic but it’s my favorite or maybe the Titan’s Curse, I’m not sure,”

“Okay cool, thank you,” I turned back to face Harry “See,”

“That doesn’t prove anything but okay,”

“He knew more than one book in the Percy Jackson series that tells me all I need to know,”

“I know more than one Percy Jackson book,” He eyed me.

“Yeah and you’re gay,”

He just huffed. Got him there.

“He still wouldn’t fuck you though,” I sat tucked my legs underneath me.

“Whatever shouldn’t you be in your class? Which is it again?”

“Physics,”

“Oh…”

“Oh what? Don’t oh me,”

“You’re avoiding Peter,”

“I’m not avoiding Peter,” I totally was. Just Harry thinks I’m doing it because I like him. I didn’t tell him that but I might've let him believe it, because how do you even go about telling someone Hey I’m avoiding the person because fire came out of my body and they saw it. I’d sound insane.

As I was walking to the gym and by to, I mean away from, but that’s not the point, I could’ve sworn I saw the same man from Saturday in the window near the crowd of students.

Accompanied by the same gut feeling.

I pushed my way into the gym. To avoid him. I bumped into someone. Off instinct I got defensive but then I heard an

“Oh, sorry. Sorry!” Once they’d turned around I realized it had been Peter. Just my luck.

“You’re fine that was basically my fault anyway,”

I was going to just walk over to one of my friends but they weren’t here and Liz literally just left the school. So I had no escape.

Well there was one escape. There’s always a way out.

“Y/N!” The female gym coach called.

“Yes?” I rolled my eyes.

“Where are your gym clothes?”

“Probably in the locker room...”

“Why aren’t you wearing them?”

“I didn’t feel like it,”

“You need to change for your grade, participation is important,”

I picked up my backpack off the floor before pushing open the doors to the girls locker room. Instead of going towards my locker I headed straight for the metal doors leading into the hallway. I went to the space I always seemed to drift to when I had nowhere else to go.

The teachers bathroom.

I know that sounds weird but it’s the only one I can lock. I stole a key a while back when I went to get my phone back from one of the teachers.

I guess Carmen was a psychic or something because one of the videos she’d posted on our group account of us eating in the dresses, me getting that tattoo, and dying Carmen’s hair had blown up.

I did not see her take any of the clips but the proof was right in front of me.

The video had half a million views and I assumed that was because of all the comments helping pushing the algorithm.

Some of them were nice like

hey lol

you’re both gorgeous omg

That tattoo is cool af

I want to be you

I should pay you to do my hair lmao

I can't tell if i want to be you

The other half were like

No child should be getting a tattoo you look so young

That is the devils sign I’m praying for you.

Why please Go To God✝️✝️🙏🏻🙏🏻♥️

Im praying for you

At first I was confused as to why half of the comments were people praying. Then I realized it was because Carmen had on her pentagram necklace.

I’m definitely not complaining about the comments though because they got me that many views, likes, and follows, but the ignorance upsets me. A pentagram only represents Earth, Air, Water, and Fire it’s about balance.

I think it’s cool, kinda like the Avatar. It has nothing to do with Satan. I didn’t really want to think about Fire. I was still freaking out about Friday. It hadn’t happened again so maybe I dreamt it or something.

Somehow I spent the rest of gym and half of what should’ve been me heading to detention responding to every Christian’s comment with something dumb or witty.

I was walking towards the detention room and was startled by Peter. Again.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Um… this is gonna sound insane but,” he paused looking down fiddling with his hands.

My face twisted up in confusion as to why he still hadn’t spoken.

“Are you gonna to speak…”

“Oh. Oh!” He looked back up “Yeah you remember my internship right?”

“Yeah…” I guess he was going to act like I didn’t know about him being Spiderman again.

“So now Mr. Stark is interested in you and wants you to come with me upstate,”

“Why me?”

“I’m not sure, but if you’re coming someone is outside waiting for us,”

I’m sure this was just another attempt to lure me into some SHIELD mess. However Peter had no idea about Thorn or any of the other fucked up shit I’d done. So it would look suspicious if I didn’t go. Because what kid or any other person wouldn’t want to meet Tony Stark.

“Okay then, what are we waiting for?”

The ride there was completely silent. I spent the whole time texting Carmen as she complained about her boyfriend. I really hated him oh my God. Peter had gone into the building about 15 minutes ago.

“Okay, if he’s always getting on your nerves and trying to control you why are you still with him?” I asked in the snap meant for Carmen.

“You know why, I’m not going to say it because then you’d get mad at me,” She sent a video back.

“Thank you I do not want to hear about your boyfriends dick-,” I was interrupted by a knock on the window “Okay I can’t talk got to go,” I sent the video before sliding across the seat pushing the door open.

“What happened?” I asked as Peter sat back in the car.

“It was a test,” He said, providing no further elaboration.

The back window was rolled down and the guy who drove us here. Happy, I think. There is no way that was his real name. He stuck his face in the window.

“Hey, the boss wants to see you now,”

I turned back to Peter and whispered.

“The boss? Am I about to walk into some mafia meeting,”

He just laughed at that.

“We don’t have much time,” Happy urged.

As we began walking the halls of the giant building as I pocketed random trinkets that I could sell for a quick buck.

“So what’s your real name?” I asked Happy since this whole time he was leading me it was a silent ride.

He continued to ignore me.

So I asked again. I could tell from his body language that I was getting on his nerves.

I asked twice more and by the time the last sentence came out of my mouth we’d already reached our destination. He walked away not before mumbling a quick I hate kids.

“Y/N it’s nice to meet you,” Tony greeted as he reached out to shake my hand. I allowed it.

“You’re a lot shorter in person,” I pointed out after releasing his hand.

“Not the first time I’ve heard that,” He reached for a bowl putting something in his mouth. “Grape?” He offered.

“No thank you,” Not like they’d be poisoned or anything, no one had even gotten the chance to question me yet. Also there was the fact that he was eating them but this could be a Princess Bride situation. Not taking any chances.

“Okay,” He clapped, dusting his hands. “Let’s get to the point now,”

“So I’ve been informed that you had an instance with pyrokinesis,” He continued after I nodded. “I was hoping to research this to get to the bottom of this,”

“So you want to use me as a lab rat?”

“No of course not, the research would be used purely for your personal benefit,”

For my benefit my ass. They were going to turn me into a lab rat or a soldier.

“Okay I’ll think about it,” Thought about it. A hard hell no.

“If you do choose to do so since you are a minor I’ll need parental consent,”

“Of course,” I nodded.

There was a pamphlet that I wasn’t going to read. I wasn’t really going to ask for permission. Was I? If I wasn’t then why was I back at ”my” house.

I just missed my bed, it was messy but it was mine.

I started sobbing for no reason at all. Maybe it was the old sketchbooks on my bed, or my mom's broken jewelry box. It could’ve been the smell of incense that never left from the lack of ventilation. It was probably the pile of crystals on my dresser. Then again it could’ve been the nazar eye amulet from the broken bracelet on the ground or the hole in the wall where I used to keep my favorite knife. Maybe it was all of those things. Maybe it was so much more. Maybe it was something different entirely. Maybe it was the colors of the wind. Who knows.

My eyes stung as my eyeliner dripped down and into them. I blinked the tears away as I went through all my clothes and I mean ALL my clothes.

I found another bodycon dress. I slipped it on after stuffing a few other articles in my bag. I continued searching to the very back of my closet and I found an old purse. There were at least $50 in the back pocket and in the front pocket there were- Oh.

There was a small plastic bag with at least 500gs of Xanax. I must’ve left them there after Washington.

I wasn’t going to take them. I really wasn't; I just put them in the bra. You know for safe keeping. I heard the front door open and made a break for the balcony.

Although I’d regularly seen my sisters. I still hadn’t seen my dad since I’d left. They’d seen him a couple times though he was fine with the idea of them staying at our grandma’s for who knows how long. He doesn’t care as long as he’s still got that girlfriend of his. I can only imagine what he told her about us not staying with him.

I jumped down the stairs of the fire escape and my heart almost jumped out of my chest. As something hit my calf.

I looked down to see it was just Salem climbing up my leg. I lifted her up to my chest nuzzling the top of her head.

“Hiii baby!” I cooed in a baby voice.

I now more carefully made my way down the steps so as to not disrupt her. Now I was going to go straight to my grandma’s house to drop off the clothes, but I wanted to go shopping before it got too late.

I already had no money so I have no idea why I thought it was a good idea but there I was with a $300 charge on my credit card.

I probably looked insane walking around the mall with a cat in my backpack and black streaks underneath my eyes.

If you’ve never done this I highly recommend it. Every subway train comes with carts and the last cart is a door with railing and no other restrictions. You can just sneak into the very back.

The wind hitting your face is the most freeing thing in the world and you can scream as loud as you want and no one will hear you. That fact can be unsettling to some but to me it’s beautiful.

Releasing your true emotions to no one but you and yourself. I closed my eyes holding onto the railing with one hand and Salem in the other. I put her back into my backpack before sitting down.

Since the app is addicting, and you can’t tell me it’s not, I opened Tiktok and the first thing I saw is a guy pouring what I hoped wasn’t I thought it was into a bowl.

So naturally my first reaction was to make a video about it because who doesn’t overshare on the internet.

“Tell me why,” The track rumbled underneath me, making Salem whine, I picked her up letting her cuddle into my chest.

“Okay, I have a cat now but-” The track rumbled again “It’s so fucking loud but tell me why I opened this hellfire app and see some dude pouring cum into a bowl, I hate everyone,”

Within like six minutes of me posting it I had multiple likes and comments.

The only reason being is that Harry dueted.

I gotta say being the kid of a mayor and a multimillionaire gives you some form of clout. So he had a pretty heft following.

Harry’s similar to me in the way that we’re mean to our friends. So naturally we’re ”mean” to each other.

“You look stupid,” Harry claimed in his video “Also who’s fucking cat did you steal put it back and get in the trains properly and go wash your face,”

I hadn’t even realized I was on my new account at first.

Of course I made a response video.

“First of all this is my cat, her name is Salem and she’s adorable” I mean not really but she belongs to no one else, and I feed her. “Second, ignore my eyeliner. I actually think it looks kinda cute,” Lie, It just made me look crazy. “Also how'd you even find this account so fast? Stalker. I’d advise you shut up before I post your phone number then you’d have to ward off groupies. I’m sure you’d like that though.”

I’m pretty sure the majority of the people in our comments thought we were being serious. So in turn they commented things like I have no idea who you are but I’m on your side, is this gonna be another scandal, or here before the news is talking about it.

I’m not complaining. His history of scandals got me to 5k followers for the pure assumption that I was involved in some other secret.

My mind was moving at 100 miles per hour. It felt like I was on a whole bottle of adderall. I was going somewhere. At least I remember I was supposed to be somewhere. I’m pretty sure my grandma’s house was where I was going. Right?

“No weapon against you shall prosper mija,” My grandma squeezed my hand “You are stronger than you know,”

“I know. Thank you,”

I’d got here and we had a 30 minute conversation about my mental health without outright saying anything about mental health. It was just mostly her taking shots at my dad. With the exception of her telling me I was dressed like una furcia.

“Okay well,” I pushed up off the couch “I just came to bring some clothes and I need to get back anyway,”

“Get back to where, where are staying?” She asked.

“Oh you remember MJ right?” I lied.

“Oh yes, I like that lil’ girl,”

I went into the guest room to where my sisters were staying. I could hear rustling as I got closer to the room. I flicked on the lights. To see both of my sisters asleep. It was only 10:30 so that was highly unlikely.

“I know you’re not sleep it’s just me,”

They peeled open their eyes, sitting up.

“I come bearing gifts,” I announced kneeling down next to the bag.

I placed the bag on the floor carefully so I wouldn’t hurt Salem.

Sapphire squealed when she saw her.

“You got Salem? I missed her!”

“Well actually, I just brought clothes,” I dumped them on the bed “Aaliyah come here?” I asked.

She hopped down from the bed.

“All of Sapphire’s clothes are over there but I know we’re like the same size so pick what you want,” I told her.

She took at least half of what I had but I wasn’t complaining because at least she wasn’t going behind my back and taking them.

“Okay but like am I really allowed to hate my father like cause,” I tried to move only to immediately lose balance “Shit- but like can I even hate my dad if I do the same shit he does, like maybe, maybe it’s like some contractual blood magic shit and I’m just destined to be a shitty person,” I was sending videos to some group chat I didn’t know who was in it because I couldn’t really read the name I just know Harry was the only one responding.

“I get it being like your parents is scary but you’re not and I won’t let you be like that, now get some sleep please,” Harry reassured.

“NO! It’s like,” I struggled to get the sentence out “It’s like crazy because before I existed it like someone fucking planted this, like it- it’s a-,” I hit my forehead on each word as if I could physically knock them out. “It’s a seed in my brain and it’s only going to grow as I get older and I’m just gonna be an asshole, it’s fucking happening already and I-“ Carmen came into the living room I flipped the camera onto her “Say hi!” I slurred.

“Y/N you okay?” She said making her way over to me. I stopped the video and sent it.

“I’m fine how are you?”

“I thought you went to bed,” she ignored my question.

“I did. Then I couldn’t sleep,” I leaned back onto the couch. She crouched down next to me feeling my forehead.

“You have a fever,” She claimed.

“No I don’t! Why does everyone keep saying that?” I whined.

“Are you high?” She moved closer to my face.

“No I’m not fucking high,”

“You’re slurring your words,” She pointed out moving into the kitchen “What’d you take?”

“What?”

“I said what’d you take,” She going into one of the cabinets “I know you’re not drunk because you don’t smell like alcohol and you don't smell like weed, so I’ll ask you again,”

“I didn’t take anything, I'm not high!” I explained.

“It was Benadryl wasn’t it?” She came back into the living room and handed me a glass of water. “You know that stuff kills people,”

“Yeah I think I of all people would know that,” Truth is I wasn’t lying. I didn’t take anything. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, maybe sleep deprivation.

“True,” She sat down on the floor next to me “You know how I said I can tell when it’s getting bad,” I nodded. “Well like I was saying before it’s getting bad for you-”

“No it’s not,” I interrupted “I’m literally the happiest I’ve ever been today,”

“I was getting there,” She held her hands up in an attempt to placate me “That’s just the calm before the storm it’s mania,”

“I’m not manic! Stop trying to psychoanalyze me I’m perfectly fine,”

I must've woken Salem up because I could hear her footsteps as she paddled over to me and sat in my lap. It’s like she knew when I was getting angry.

“That’s the thing you’re not fine, just let me know when you’re ready to admit that,” She pushed off the ground using her hands “Try to get some sleep please and thank you,”

I think it was the weight and warmth of Salem on my chest that finally lulled me to sleep like a weighted blanket.

“Sapphire!” I yelled to catch her attention “Stop running you’re gonna hurt yourself,”

She slowed down before making her way back to Aaliyah and the other kids at this birthday party.

I sat back down on the table’s bench before getting back on my phone. I saw this post one time about how people use technology to distract themselves so they can't have the chance to have a depressive thought. Then I decided to prove that theory wrong so I put my phone up and I thought.

And boy did I have a lot to think about. The biggest thing on my mind was why. Why did Tony Stark come after me? Why did the guy with the gun come after me? Why did my mom feel the need to make an “Incase I die” video? Why did she have connections to people like Kingpin? Why did she even know Wade? Wasn’t he some science experiment gone wrong?

Then that got me thinking what if I was a science experiment gone. What if that’s why Tony Stark wanted to experiment on me. What if that was under the orders of someone from SHIELD, because how would he have known about me otherwise.

Welp, there was only one way to find out.

“Okay I’m in,” I settled. “What do I have to do?”

“Uh are you sure?” Tony asked.

“Positive,” I affirmed.

“Well first we would probably do some blood tests and an MRI. Then see where that takes us.” He looked back over at me “Can you do this tomorrow?”

“Yeah tomorrow works for me,”

“Great,” He clapped his hands together “I’ll send Happy to pick you up from school,”

“No it’s fine I can get here myself.”

“It’s a different location,” He revealed.

“Okay tell me where it is and I’ll make it there myself,”

“I can’t not even I know where it is,”

“Fine, I’ll do this, but only if I can bring a friend,” I requested “You know for safety reasons?”

“Safety reasons? Do you not trust me?”

“Not really…”

“Wow okay, you can bring this friend,”

“Who doesn’t trust Iron man?'' I heard him mutter to himself as I made my way out of the building.

I always thought the apocalypse would come in colors. The sky flashing from red to pink to purple to orange. Then there would be a loud sound almost like the Big Bang. Then nothing. I had a vivid imagination when I was younger.

I guess I was wrong though because it was already here and the sky was as blue as ever. And the air was as humid as ever in this crusty ass building.

“I told you already I’m not a soldier you’re gonna have to pay me for this,” I spoke into the comms.

“Shh,” Tony hushed “Just wait for your target.”

Life hadn’t been all that bad. Just for the past two weeks I’d been training with Peter since at the end of the week that I agreed to testing, Spiderman joined in the Avengers officially. Which, good for him I guess.

Trying to get my brain back on track now. I’d been training with Peter and now we’re going on our first mission. I was not loyal to Tony at all. Nor would I ever be. I’m not calling him Mr. Stark like Peter does either, he doesn’t deserve it. I was trying to look up my mom with the information Felicia gave me and I saw she was listed as level orange in a shield file. Whatever that means.

One thing it meant was I couldn’t back out just yet now.

This would be one deep inside job.

“Peter?” I whispered into the comms

“Hello?” He asked.

“Where are you?”

“I’m guarding the entrance like I was told too?” He asked more than stated.

“Well, come here,”

“But Mr. Stark said-“

“I don’t care what Mr. Stark said come here,” I interjected without even thinking about the fact he could’ve been listening in somehow.

“Yes?” He questioned once he was standing in front of me.

“Take my role for a second,” I pulled my gun out the holster “You know how to use a gun right?”

I thought back to the last time we’d actually fought as our alter egos. Except then he didn’t know it was me and he still doesn’t. He definitely didn’t know how to use a gun then let’s just hope he did now.

“You know what, I don’t have time just take it,” I placed the gun in his palm before speeding off.

“Wait!” He called out “Aren’t you defenseless now?”

“I’ll be fine baby boy,” I called back.

I made my way into the farthest depths of the warehouse. I’d been here once before. That was before I knew Felicia and we’d gotten into a scuffle about a diamond. Let’s just say I was young and I went home bruised that day.

Apparently I was under the impression she had it and she was under the impression I had it this whole time. So maybe. Just maybe it was still there. It was somewhere in the back last time I checked.

There it was. I grabbed it and recoiled when I heard a voice accompanied by the sharp zap in my body.

“Looking for something?” They asked. I turned around only to be faced with a large burly almost Frankenstein looking man.

“Oh yeah I was looking for you actually, you just made my job a lot easier,”

As if my words were a signal for him. They probably were. He lunged forward towards me with his left side fully open. I evaded and left a sharp kick to his side.

He wailed out in pain before slinging me backward as I tried to reach for the diamond off the floor.

I skidded across the floor before hopping back to my feet.

“I found the guy,” I spoke into the comms.

“Who are you talking to?” The target teased.

“Your mom,” I taunted.

“Hey!” He cried.

“Where are you?” I heard Peter ask I didn’t get a chance to answer because the man swung at me again.

That hit made contact with my shoulder. He continued to swing and I continued to walk backwards. I realized almost too late that I was backing myself into a corner.

I’m not sure where or who I heard this from maybe Wade but sometimes the only point your opponent has his guard down is mid punch.

I scrambled for my knife, fingers dancing around the holster on my waist as my feet continued to slide along the pavement underneath me. Just as the man swung at me again I sent my knife towards his torso. Except it didn’t make contact. And I had never missed before, especially not from this close.

I was confused until I realized it was because I heard that all familiar wet sticky sound of Spider-Man’s web shooters except this time I was glad to hear it.

Peter webbed the man's arms and mouth all while my fingers went lax in shock for only a moment but one moment too long.

The knife clattered to the ground making a noise that drew Peter’s attention. I tried to swipe it away with my foot but Peter had already grabbed it.

“This is Thorns knife,” He spoke calmly and I wasn’t sure if it was directed at me or if it was for himself.

“And how would you have Thorns knife unless you were,” I saw his eyes light up as he made the connection. “Wait, you’re Thorn, holy shit, I’m so stupid how’d I not notice before,”

“Peter seriously you can’t tell anyone,”

He looked up as if he were just noticing I was still there.

“Don’t worry I won’t be saying anything at all,”

Yeah, this was definitely the apocalypse because I don’t know if it was just me but life was ending.

Another silent ride and I realized exactly what he’d meant when he said he wouldn’t say anything. He was giving me the silent treatment.

Which was odd because usually he talks the most on these rides. After we got over the initial awkwardness of the whole fire and Vulture thing we fell back into the way of things. Well if he was going to play this game I would too because what’s that saying? It takes two to tango.

Taglist:

@tomdiddlyumptious

23 notes · View notes

geniusgub · 4 years

Text

north//chapter seven

enjoy lovies!! it’s action time!!

genre: angst

pairing: season nine spencer reid x female oc

warnings: gun fire, mention of blood, a lot of time/location jumps sorry

word count: 6.5k

SPENCER

SIX MONTHS LATER

"Wheels up in thirty."

The team nods and gathers our things from the round table, leaving the briefing room to return to our desks and grab our go-bags. I take a seat at my chair and reach under my desk, eyes widening as I realize my go-bag isn’t there. I retrace my steps of the last few days of not being on a case and my brain produces an image of my leather go-bag in the corner of Amelia’s bedroom. Upon checking the time, I realize I won’t have time to hop on a train, get to Amelia’s apartment, and then catch a train back here within thirty minutes. I’d miss the plane and then I won’t be able to go on the case.

My phone sits on my desk, screaming at me to make a call. I know I need to call Amelia because I need my clothes for the case. But having her come here and show her face would mean that our secret would no longer be ours. It would give the team more material to make fun of me with and to tease me about but besides that. It would mean that our relationship goes from being just two people to being eight people. I’m sure Amelia doesn’t mind as much as I do, but the fear of something happening to her because of my job will linger forever. However, I really need my clothes and I can’t take the time to worry about the long term issues of telling everyone I have a girlfriend.

I pick up my phone and dial Amelia’s number. A glance around the bullpen tells me that nobody is looking my way and that means they won’t be eavesdropping on my conversation. What am I even nervous about? Amelia gets along with everyone so I’m sure the team will like her. They will absolutely love her, Penelope surely already does. Everything will be okay, right? I can stand some teasing about her. I already endure the teasing about basically everything else in my life so I can stand some more. At least I can be open about Amelia and bring her to dinners at Rossi’s and she can bond with my best friends and we just won’t have to hide anymore.

“Hi, dove! What’s up? I just saw you like, ten minutes ago. Aren’t you at work?"

“Yeah, I am but I've got a problem and I'm hoping you can help." Once again, I glance up to make sure that nobody is listening.

"I'm at your service, Spence. I'm still at home and I just got dressed. It's your lucky day. What do you need?"

"I left my go-bag in your room. Do you think you could bring it over here for me?"

"Yeah, of course I can but are you sure you’re okay with that? You want everyone to meet me? I know you said you wanted to keep us a secret for a little while."

No, maybe I’m not so okay with Amelia meeting the team yet but I can’t keep her a secret forever. I have some level of confidence right now so I can’t miss this opportunity to introduce Amelia to my friends. "It’s okay. Not a big deal,” a white lie never hurt anyone, right?

"Okay! I’ll be there in a couple minutes!” I can hear the beautiful smile on her face when she speaks and the thought of getting to see her once more I leave for this case somehow makes all my anxiety and hesitation float away, leaving elation in its wake. We say our goodbyes and then I’m left to my own thoughts without Amelia as a distraction.

I tap my fingers against the desk as I wait anxiously for my girlfriend’s arrival. I try to pick up the case file to observe it again but I just can't focus. Every time I try to read about the details of these dead prostitutes, my brain drifts off to something else and then I realize that I didn’t process anything I just read and I have to start over. All that is happening is that Amelia is dropping off my go-bag, saying hi to everyone, and then she’s going to leave. Simple. That’s all.

"Hey kid, you good?" I jump at the sound of Morgan right next to me, leaning over my shoulder and totally invading my personal bubble.

I nod quickly, shifting away from him so he’s not almost on top of me. "Yeah, I'm fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Morgan furrows his eyebrows and he doesn’t let up, moving around me to lean against my desk. “You’re being very quiet. That isn’t like you. And if-”

"Amelia!" Penelope squeals, running over to Amelia as she comes through the glass doors, throwing her arms around my girlfriend. This shrieking catches the attention of everyone in the bullpen, and even Rossi pops his head out of his office to see what's going on. "Is the cat out of the bag?" She holds Amelia out at arm’s length and then her eyes dart to me and then to the team around them. Penelope laughs nervously. "Well if the cat isn't out of the bag then I've definitely just ripped a hole in the bag for you!"

"It's okay," Amelia laughs, moving away from Penelope and holding my go-bag out to me. "Here."

"Thank you. You're a lifesaver," I set the bag on my desk chair and move beside Amelia so the vultures can’t swoop her up first. Amelia places her hand on my back and rubs up and down to soothe me, out of the view of anyone else.

Morgan’s eyebrows shoot up as he saunters over, adorning a smirk that I’ve seen far too many times. “Who’s this? A super secret girlfriend?”

"Um, yeah," Amelia steps closer to me and holds me even closer as I gesture to every member of the team, "this is Amelia. Lia, this is Alex, Morgan, JJ, Hotch is in his office, Rossi, and you already know Penelope."

When I look back down at Amelia, there's something in her eyes that I've never seen before. Her nostrils are flared just a little bit and her jaw is flexed, and she stops rubbing my back, grabbing a fistfull of my shirt instead. I wouldn't even peg this as nervousness to meet the team, this is just weird. I've never seen her act like this. She looks, I don’t know, maybe frustrated? Angry? Pissed off? All my profiling skills go out the window now and I’m absolutely baffled with the way she is holding herself right now.

Rossi is the first to speak up after the introductions, pointing his finger at Amelia. "Have we met before? You look familiar." Everyone, including myself, is utterly confused. Is that what I saw in Amelia's eyes? Recognition? Has she met Rossi before? But how?

"Um," Amelia clearly grasps for words as she retracts from my embrace, "it was really great to meet you guys but I've got somewhere to be so hopefully I'll see you all soon," and with that, Amelia gives them the fakest smile I’ve ever seen from her and speeds off towards the glass doors and eventually the elevator.

Without a second look at any of my bewildered friends, I run after her, catching up just as she's pressing the down button. "Amelia, what the hell? What was that? Do you know Rossi?"

She keeps her head forward, facing the elevator doors. Amelia huffs, tugging on the straps of her backpack and I just barely catch sight of her lip quivering before she twists her head away from me. "Just be careful on your case, okay? Keep being smart and be safe and come home in one piece and-"

"Please don’t change the subject. What’s going on? Why are you like this?”

"Just drop it, Spencer," Amelia shakes her head at me and sniffles, obviously combating the tears that are threatening to fall. "I don't know who that Rossi guy is. I'm going to lunch with Jenna and I don't wanna be late or else she'll get annoyed."

"You go to lunch with Jenna at Camille's which is a ten minute and thirty two second drive from here. You meet at noon and it's only 11:30 so you have plenty of time. You're not gonna be late," Amelia shakes her head once more and that’s when the anger starts to rise in me. I’m just trying to comfort her and figure out why she is acting like this and she is blowing me off completely. It’s unfair to me. It’s unfair for Rossi to act like he did and it’s unfair for Amelia to blow me off when I’m trying to help. That’s all I want to do- help.

“Please, Spencer. Don’t.”

I retract from Amelia, my jaw tightening. I watch helplessly as she slips into the elevator doors before they fully open. She slams her finger down on a button and her arms rise to hug her waist, head hanging down. If we were under normal circumstances, I would rush forward and scoop her into my arms and shower her in affection and listen to every word she has to tell me. But now there’s nothing from her and too much from me- too much frustration, too much confusion, and a lingering feeling of betrayal.

I scoff at Amelia’s disappearing figure and turn on my heel, marching back into the bullpen. All eyes are on me as I snatch up my satchel and go-bag, stomping right back out of the bullpen and down the stairs.

///

THIRD PERSON

///

"Well, that was really weird," JJ grimaces, dragging her feet back to her desk and collecting her go-bag and case files.

"That was weird," Penelope pouts, shoulders hunched forward, watching helplessly as everyone’s faces match JJ’s when they start to scatter. "Guys, Amelia was the girl from the video chat like, six months ago that was braiding my hair, and she has never been like that. She has come by here a few times to leave things for Spencer and to hang out with me when you’re gone. She isn’t like that, guys! She’s funny and energetic and really friendly and not like that!"

"Rossi, do you actually recognize her?" Morgan asks next, turning to his colleague, interrupting his reverie. The group of profilers regularly steal glances out of the glass doors where the young couple is arguing in front of the bureau elevators.

"I do," Rossi continues to rack his brain for an answer. But matter how many times he recalls Spencer’s girlfriends face and continues to think Amelia, Amelia, Amelia, he can’t put a situation to the person. Spencer storms in and then out again, leaving a tense silence in the bullpen in his wake. Everyone shares wide-eyed glances at Spencer’s seemingly dramatic reaction.

"One of you check up on the kid, but Garcia come with me,” Alex goes rushing after Spencer and follows him down the stairs while Penelope hurries after Rossi, all the way to her cave and into her perfectly adjusted seat.

"Sir, what are we doing in here?" Penelope wonders, her fingers instinctively at the ready on her keyboard.

"Do a background check on Amelia. I'm sure you know her last name," Rossi leans over Penelope’s shoulder, watching her type in Amelia Stark. "I swear, I know that name."

“But why? You know I hate digging through someone’s personal life,” Penelope whines, slapping her hands over her eyes when information pops up about her friend. She feels Rossi lean even closer to her screen and she whines out. “It’s different when I do this alone because I do it out of love! This just feels wrong.”

“Then just forget I’m here. I know this name,” Rossi mumbles absentmindedly.

"I started doing a background check on her when she was here and no red flags immediately popped up," Penelope slowly drops her hands from over her eyes and starts to read the information that feels much more invasive now. "Okay, Amelia Stark- she's 25, moved to Virginia when she was 21, right out of college. She went to Carnegie Mellon and studied fine arts. She's an artist and an amazing one, at that. It looks like she has a couple low grade arrests in here but it's all for graffiti and street art. Friends all bailed her out and that was it, she was never charged with anything. Ooh, bad girl."

"No, no," Rossi shakes his head, "that can't be all. Keep digging."

Penelope whines out when she continues to type, slower than ever before in an attempt to drag out the invasion. "I don't know what you're expecting me to find, Sir. I also don't know what I'm supposed to be looking for so it makes it harder to- oh," Rossi gets even closer to the screen at the sound of her inflection change. "Many, many sealed court records- is that what you're looking for?"

"Unseal them," Rossi demands.

With a few simple yet hesitant clicks, Penelope unseals the court documents and Amelia Stark's entire life is opened up to them.

"This is how I know Amelia," Rossi breathes out. "Do you think Reid knows?"

Penelope shakes her head slowly, her eyes filling with tears as she buries her face in her hands. The air suddenly feels much more tense, they both realize, and a low level of guilt fills Rossi. "No, definitely not. He would've realized why you recognized Amelia if he knew. She definitely hasn't told him. And when I was joking about doing a background check, she seemed kinda nervous, but I just thought it's that kind of nervous we all get like when we're driving and there just happens to be a cop driving on the same road as you- not because of this!"

Rossi tugs his keys out of his pocket and taps Penelope’s shoulder. "Send me her address and tell Hotch I'll meet you guys in Texas."

///

AMELIA

///

I slam my apartment door shut, sending a sloppy and incoherent text to Jenna to cancel on lunch. I can barely see through the tears in my eyes as I try to hang up my keys on a hook and put my backpack beside it. My hands are trembling and even when I stop moving around so I can ground myself, the shaking doesn’t stop.

There's a sharp knock at the door, and I debate not even answering. I slap my hand over my mouth to muffle the sound of my cries, trying desperately to wipe my cheeks but it doesn't really work. There’s no hiding my red face and my melting makeup, I’m sure.

"Amelia, I know you're in there. I hear you crying."

I grind my teeth when I hear the voice behind my door, anger bubbling up inside of me and it sizzles over before I can even think to stop it. I stomp over and throw open the door, finding Dave standing there with his hands casually tucked in his pockets. "Are you kidding me? You followed me home?"

"I knew you were familiar," Dave strolls right past me, glancing around my apartment like he was invited in. I don’t bother to close my door when I follow him into the living room, slapping his hand away when he reaches out to touch a canvas on the wall.

"You can't just show up and waltz in and start touching things! You're supposed to be on a plane going to god knows where! Get out, Dave. This is absolutely ridiculous!"

"Does Reid know?" Dave turns to me and crosses his arms, his face stoic and emotionless. I try to keep my tears from falling but it's a useless feat. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to answer but then all I can do is shake my head no. "No? You haven't told him? You've just lied about your entire childhood? Amelia, that's-"

"I didn't lie about anything!" I shout at him. "I just didn't tell him anything at all and he's fine with that because he cares about me. I don't need you fucking that up, Dave. So thank you for ruining my relationship because Spencer is pissed at me and he probably will be for a while and it's all your fault." It’s a wet kind of anger, the kind of anger that leaves you sobbing and grasping for words. It’s unfair. It’s unfair that I could lose Spencer over this situation, a situation that I’ve spent our whole relationship trying to avoid.

"You can't blame me. I did recognize you. I just couldn't place why," he tries to defend himself because now he suddenly realizes that he interfered with something he shouldn’t have. He recognizes my tears and my anger and how Spencer stormed off and he sees that this is his fault. He has ruined our relationship.

"Dave, seriously, can you just get out? You're supposed to be on a plane by now," I march back to the door and place my hand on the handle- another invitation for him to get out of my apartment.

"Actually, we're going to Texas," my head slowly trails up at Dave's words and I meet his eyes for the first time since I was standing in the bullpen with my hand in Spencer’s. "We're going to Mike's police department. He called us in."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Dave nods at me, "I'm sure it'll be nice to see him again after all these years."

"Can you, um," I let go of the door and run into the kitchen briefly, picking up a box that I've yet to put a label on, "can you give this to him? I meant to mail it but I didn't get around to it. I sent the kids art a couple of months ago but they wanted more."

"Of course. Anything else you want me to tell him?"

"To be careful," my voice cracks, more tears streaming down my cheeks. Imagines of Mike coming home with bruises and stitches surface in my mind and they make me shudder. But then my mind switches and I’m suddenly picturing Spencer in stitches with a black eye and a busted lip and I slap my hands over my eyes as if that would make the mental images disappear. "To be really careful. And please, make sure Spencer is careful too. He's upset and-"

"I'll look out for the kid. I always do, we all do." Dave takes the box from my hands and pats my shoulder in the least comforting way possible. "Listen, I really am sorry that I exposed you like that. I didn't mean to do that, I just genuinely recognized you and I didn't know why. I had Garcia pull up court records and then I remembered why I knew you."

"Don't tell Spencer, please," I practically beg. "I-I don't ever wanna have to tell him but I know I do eventually. Besides, he'll probably," I roll my eyes and let out a sarcastic laugh, "look at what color socks I'm wearing and then be able to tell me my entire life story."

"Spencer's good at that," Dave gives me a small, proud, almost fatherly smile and starts heading out the door. "I won't tell but you shouldn't keep it a secret for too long. Like you said, he's good at what he does and he'll connect the dots. I'll bring this to Mike and tell him what you said."

"Thank you," Dave gives me one more smile before heading down the hallway. Before he can get out of the building, I stick my head out of the doorway and yell, "and don't ever show up at my apartment again."

SPENCER

"Did I miss some event in the bullpen before?" Hotch asks nonchalantly as he walks onto the jet.

"No," I answer coldly, not even looking up from the book in my hands. I’ve been staring at the words for almost half an hour yet I haven’t processed a single one. My mind is racing too quickly to actually attain any new information, no matter how hard I try. It doesn’t help to feel everyone’s gaze on me, their eyes boring into the back of my head. It’s a feeling that is far too suffocating for me to ever feel comfortable until they have averted their eyes elsewhere.

"I heard some commotion but I was on the phone," Hotch keeps talking and it enrages me that he’s supposed to be the best profiler on this team, considering he’s lead profiler and unit chief, but he can’t tell from the tone of my voice that this conversation needs to end. He just ignores my tone of voice and moves on with his life. I guess I should be used to that by now.

"Just some chatting. No commotion," Morgan gives me a look as if to say ‘how did I do’ but I just look back at my book.

"Alright,” Hotch accepts Morgan’s answer with ease, but not mine, “well, let's call Garcia and get started."

The rest of the plane ride is awkward and tense. In his normal fashion, Hotch ignores the tension and gives us all directions on where to go when we touch down in Texas. I only contribute a few facts here and there but I stick to attempting, and failing, to read my book. I just can’t seem to bring my attention anywhere but Amelia and Rossi. The questions swirl around in my mind and they won’t stop, no matter how many times I splash cold water in my face or try to have a conversation or read the case files. The questions keep swirling.

Why did Rossi recognize Amelia? Why did Amelia leave so quickly? Why was she on the verge of tears? How come Rossi isn’t on the plane right now? Is Amelia okay right now? Is she mad at me? Is our relationship over because of this one moment? Why did Rossi recognize Amelia? Why did Rossi recognize Amelia? And why did she recognize him too?

I don’t say a word as we land and split up in SUV’s, heading off to our assigned locations to start working. I cling to my distraction book and try, for the millionth time, to process the words on the page. But my brain is filled with nothing but Amelia, Amelia, Amelia.

"Agents," the sheriff comes up to us when we enter the station, shaking Hotch's hand before reaching for mine. I just lift my arm and wave at him, not even bothering to attempt a smile. The sheriff gives me an unsure look but drops his hand back to his side. "Thank you guys for coming out."

"It's our pleasure. I'm Agent Hotchner, this is Dr. Reid."

"Well, I'm Sheriff Michael Stark, you can call me Mike. I know your unit chief, Matt Cruz, and I asked him to bring this case to you because I could really use the help. We've never seen anything like this before. But I'm not gonna lie, I thought there'd be more of you," he leads us further into the police station and gestures to the very full evidence board against the wall. Oh gosh, that has to be refined and taken apart. Great, even more work for us.

"There's other agents are the crime scenes now," I tell the sheriff, eyeing the evidence on the board that is incorrect or won’t help the case at all. Sometimes an enthusiastic police force is really helpful but in times like this, they’re doing more harm than good. I start pulling down all the evidence that won’t help and throwing it aside.

"Great," Mike watches me destroy the evidence board for a moment before plastering on a smile, “I’ll gather the force, and let’s get working.”

///

THIRD PERSON

///

Dave Rossi, go-bag and cardboard box in hand, struts into the Texas Police Department. Some officers smile with recognition as he passes them but he ignore all the attention. He’s used to it, anyway. Rossi goes straight to the sheriff’s office, knocking firmly on the door.

The door flies open and a smile instantly stretches across Mike’s face at the sight of an old friend and colleague standing in front of him. "David Rossi. Wow. It's been quite a while."

"That it has," Rossi steps inside the office, setting the cardboard box on the first chair he sees.

"I thought you retired a while ago. You published those books, I've got them all in my house.”

"Came back. The retired life wasn't for me," Rossi explains, then taps his hand on the top of the box. "I ran into a certain child of yours and she gave me this to give to you and your other children."

Mike's eyes widen when he finally notices the box, tilting his head to read Amelia’s writing on the side. "You saw Amelia?"

Rossi turns his head towards the window and gazes into the main room in the station, where Hotch and Reid are chatting over the evidence board. "Have you met Dr. Reid yet?"

"I have," Mike nods, already slicing the packing tape on the top of the box. "He's-” his hand freezes mid-air, eyes widening in realization, “oh my god. Amelia told me she was dating an FBI agent that works for the BAU. I can't believe I didn't put it together!"

"But Spencer doesn't know. I asked Amelia and she hasn't told him anything."

Mike scoffs dramatically, pulling out a large canvas and admiring the beauty of Amelia’s artwork. She has never disappointed him, Mike thinks. "How is it possible that she hasn’t told him anything? Her tattoos are basically the story of her life. She's got tattoos of her brother and a bunch for her mom, she has a cactus, a bee, a turtle. Her arms basically tell her life story."

"My guess?" Rossi suggets. "It's been cold. She avoided it because she was wearing long sleeves. But she asked me not to say anything so I have to ask you the same. She swore to me that she would tell him eventually so I don't want to come between them."

Mike’s gaze moves out the window again, eyes locked on the quick-talking doctor who politely refused to shake his hand. "She’s gonna have to tell him soon. But right now, we have better things to worry about. Someone’s killing prostitutes,” Rossi nods and saunters out of the office, joining his teammates, getting nothing but a cold, hard glare from Spencer. But Mike doesn’t see this interaction because he’s fishing though his desk drawer, searching for command strips to hang Amelia’s painting on the wall outside.

///

SPENCER

///

I stare out the window as Morgan drives, studying all the sites that pass us. I know that Amelia grew up in Texas. I'm not entirely sure where because she never specified where, but I wonder if she ever walked these streets as a kid. I wonder if she held her brothers hand when they walked to school, or if her mother held her hand and dragged her away from a toy store. Or maybe an art store would be a more apt location for Amelia to get attached to. Did she draw her first picture while sitting on the curb and waiting for the bus? Did she run down these sidewalks with her friends in the middle of the night after they all snuck out?

"Reid. Hey kid! You're spacing out again," Morgan reaches over and lays his hand on my shoulder. I quickly shrug his hand off my shoulder and pat my cardigan down on my shoulder to correct the wrinkles Morgan just created.

"Sorry, sorry. Was someone saying something?"

Deputy Bennett in the backseat speaks up, "I was just telling Agent Morgan about Joe's Bar and about Dinah. She's the woman who runs it."

I do what I can to keep my mind off Amelia. I miss her immensely, more than usual. We used to text each other constantly while I was away on a case but I haven't heard from her at all, and that breaks my heart. She's my sunshine, and if I don't have my sunshine, there's no way I'll be able to think straight. Her short and sweet texts that I always seemed to get when I’m away quickly became the things that encouraged me to work harder. They encouraged me to solve the case so I could get home and see her smiling face again. But now there is none of that. Not a single ‘hope everything is going okay’ message or a phone call that she swears she didn’t mean to do or a silly selfie of her in her studio or sitting on the couch. There’s no motivation and no encouragement to get home.

But I do what I can in the bar to distract Dinah and the deputy while Morgan goes to talk to the other girl. I don’t even remember her name. All I know about her is that she looks hauntingly similar to Amelia and I can’t get myself to look at her a second time. I ask meaningless questions with answers from Dinah that are all lies. But whatever Morgan is doing seems to be working so I keep going, trying to seem casual and nonchalant.

Morgan comes stutting back with his hands in his pockets, giving me a shrug as if to say got nothing, but his eyes tell a different story. "Alright, Dinah," the deputy says, "we'll get out of your hair now."

"Sorry I couldn't be of more help, gentlemen," Dinah says with a completely fake southern charm, returning to cleaning the bar with a rag.

I tuck my head down as we get back in the car and drive back to the station. My head floats back to the clouds, and I barely hear Morgan and Bennett's phone conversation with Hotch about Preacher Mills that they now have in for questioning. I pull my phone out a check for any messages from Amelia, only finding one from JJ, asking if I'm feeling okay. I ignore her, putting my phone away again and huffing in frustration.

"Lady troubles?" Bennett chuckles from the backseat, patting my shoulder in the same horrible way that Morgan did. "I don't need your profiling skills to see that from a mile away."

"I'm fine," I snap as Morgan pulls into a parking spot at the station and I’m stumbling out before the car is even in park.

I have every intention of dashing inside and ducking my head in a book to distract myself, but before I can even get to the evidence board, I stop in my tracks. That painting wasn’t there when we arrived. This is a new addition and it looks similar to the art I have on my desk at Quantico. I take a step closer to the canvas and my blood runs cold when I spot Amelia’s distinctive signature on the bottom right of the painting.

“You like the art?” Bennett is at my side once more. “We get a new one every few months.”

“Um, uh huh,” it takes me a split second to remember how to speak. I’m just so utterly confused. I thought I was close to learning every about this woman and she keeps surprising me. Amelia sells her art to museums and rich people who fill their houses with legendary artwork. What is this painting doing in a police station in Texas? “Where do the paintings come from?”

Bennett shrugs in an annoyingly casual way. “Sheriff Stark’s daughter is an artist or something. She sends them over here sometimes. He’s got a house full of little brats at home. Don’t know how he does it,” he chuckles and leaves me high and dry, even more confused than I was before.

///

The case turns out to be much more complicated than we imagined. At first glance, we seem pretty convinced that the preacher is the unsub. But when all the evidence lines up, it’s clear to see that he is being set up. So we set off on the mission of trying to find the preacher to tell him we know he’s innocent.

"Preacher's car was just spotted at El Lobito's diner," Hotch relays the information to us. "Reid and Blake, Sheriff Stark is gonna drive you over. JJ and Morgan, take another car over. Rossi and I will coordinate from here."

Everyone nods as we pull on our vests, adjusting guns and double-checking ammunition. We rush off to our cars and speed off to the diner, sirens blaring. I refrain from checking my phone, knowing I need to clear my head if I'm about to go into a potentially dangerous situation. I can’t think about Amelia right now. I can’t think about her laying on the couch in her nearly-sheer pajamas with a glass of wine in her hands. I can’t think about her wrapped up in her duvet and sleeping without me. I can’t think about her crying over the event in the bullpen without me there to hold her. No, I can’t do that. I need a clear head.

We arrive at the diner and we're all eyes, searching for movement from inside. Lorenzana comes up to us, her hand poised on the gun on her hip. "He's been in there a good five minutes now," she tells us. "No movement inside yet."

"What about patrons?"

"Diner's closed," Lorenzana says.

"Looks like two entrances," Blake says, her hands on her hips. "The question is, is he alone?"

"Uh, guys," Deputy Bennett says just as JJ and Morgan run up beside us, "I've got movement. We should move in. We should move in right now."

"Actually," I glance inside and see that all the preacher is doing is peering through the window. Bennett needs to calm down and stop being so dramatic about everything, "we're better off establishing the perimeter first. Then we can open up a line of communication."

"I think you're right," Sheriff Stark nods, effectively dismissing his defensive officers. "I think we should-"

Suddenly there's the loud screech of a gunshot and everyone ducks as an initial reaction. Sheriff Stark falls to the floor in front of us but Blake and I duck behind the open door of our SUV. The preacher starts reining bullets down on us, haphazardly aiming for anything and everything. So much for telling him we know he’s innocent and bringing him in for protection.

"Blake," I tap her shoulder, gun drawn in my other hand, "we gotta get the sheriff."

Without another word to me, she runs right into gunfire. She grabs one arm of the Sheriff's arms and starts to pull him, but clearly can't. My eyes go wide and the gunshots pound against my eardrums as I push myself away from the car.

"Blake!" I’m screaming as I shield her from the bullets coming her way. There’s no doubt she would have been killed by any of those bullets. She should be more caeful. She has a husband to return home to.

There is a searing pain in my neck and it takes me a second to process that I've been shot. The world starts to move in slow motion when I crumble to the ground and stare up at the dark sky. There are tears falling down my cheeks and stinging my gunshot wound, but the stars seem to calm me. I wonder if these are the same stars that Amelia used to look at with her brother. I wonder if Amelia is looking up at the stars right now.

Amelia. My girl. I can't find it in me to have an ounce of anger in me towards her anymore. I'd give anything to be able to hold her right now as my body fills with indescribable pain. I can feel her hand in mine and her laugh echoing in my ears, drowning out the gunfire around me. How does she do that? Her laugh always overpowers everything around us. I swear I can feel her lips on my face and I can feel her hands on my skin, and I want to reach for her. I can see her right in front of me, leaning over my weakening body and whispers sweet nothings in my ear. Is she actually here? I can feel her. Why is she in Texas? Why is she in the middle of a shootout? Why isn’t she wearing a bulletproof vest? She needs a vest. She needs it now.

With the little amount of strength I have left, I reach my shaking hands for the velcro on my shoulders, tugging on them. I tug, and tug, and tug, and nothing happens. The vest won’t come off. I can’t save her. I need to save her.

I'm jolted out of my beautiful daydream when I feel myself getting dragged against the pavement. My view of Amelia dissipates and I cry out, reaching my hand out for her. There's a face in front of me but I'm looking past them, smacking my lips together in an attempt to speak. But then the person is gone and I'm left alone again. I try to call out for my girlfriend, who has disappeared, still tugging at the velcro on my kevlar vest. She needs it. I need to save her.

I sit there helplessly for what feels like forever, hands shaking and covered in blood. The sound of gunfire starts to warp in my ears and it seems to get more and more distant by the second. Maybe the gunfire is stopping. Maybe Amelia is safe. If she isn’t safe then I don’t know what I would do. I try to speak again, but my jaw just goes slack and suddenly I can’t move it anymore.

Blake rushes over and crouches in front of me, pressing her cold hands against my bleeding wound. The temperature of her fingers jolts me in the most shocking and aggressive way, a gasp coming from my wide-open mouth. "Medic!" She shouts. "We need a medic now! There's too much blood!"

I can feel blood dripping down my body and my head is starting to get fuzzy. The blood soaks my kevlar but it doesn’t stop me from continuing to pull on the velcro. I don’t feel bullets flying past me anymore but Amelia still needs it. But the more energy I put into tugging at my vest, the more parts of my body start to render useless. My fingertips tingle and my eyes start to roll.

"Hey, you're doing great. Just keep your eyes open and on me," Blake tries to give me a smile, but it never reaches her eyes. "Eyes on me, eyes on me," I try to trail my eyes up to hers, but they just cross and my head starts to pound. "Spencer! I need your eyes on me!"

My vision starts to sparkle and then those sparkles burn out until all I see is black.

taglist!

@babybobbybones @blameitonthenight21 @thematthewgraygube @anepiphany @goldenalvez @reidscardigan @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @stxrryspencer @rxseinbloom @m0rcia @whollytaciturn @thegingerfairchild @matthewreid @shrimpyblog @garcias-batcave @anamelessfacelessnerd @gublergirls @wonderlandhatter @ambitious-but-lazy

#spencer reid #dr reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid series #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #matthew gray gubler #gublernation

35 notes · View notes

let-it-raines · 4 years

Text

Catch Me If You Can (32/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: all of my thanks to all of you for reading these words and enjoying them and to @resident-of-storybrooke for reading all of these words beforehand to make sure they make sense ❤️

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 |

Tag list: @stunningswan @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury @superchocovian @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings

-/-

Killian’s shoulder is stiff when he wakes up. It’s not necessarily painful which is more than good considering how it’s been for a few weeks now, but it is definitely stiff. He’s sure that it has to do with spending most of yesterday stuck in a car with the Nolans because there were photographers waiting for him at the airport, and he immediately told David to turn around because he was not going in there with vultures waiting for him like that.

That decision may as well have screwed up his shoulder that little bit more, but sitting in the safety of Mary Margaret’s SUV is probably exactly what kept his mind intact.

No one in that car asked him any questions about his dad or his injury or Milah. No one there brought up everything he’s trying to forget. It’s simply a little hard to forget it all when he was trying to watch his team’s game last night and thirty minutes was spent talking about an article that is apparently determined to take over his life.

Fuck Walsh Osborne and fuck Brennan Jones.

They deserve nothing.

All he’s trying to do is play baseball and live his life. He never wanted any of this. He never asked for any of it.

The past two days of his life have been hell, and he’s been away from it all where it couldn’t honestly and truly get to him. Killian’s been in Maine trying to have a good time with his girlfriend and her family, and he’s avoided his phone as much as possible so as to not see all of the backlash. Emma has done the same.

Of course, he did have an extremely concerned brother who was also torn apart by their shitty excuse of a father lying and finally using them for money he’s probably already gambling away. He also had Elsa and Anna worried sick. That’s not even mentioning Will and Robin or Eric and Ariel.

God, Ariel.

She’d gone absolutely ballistic. Killian doesn’t think he’s ever actually heard that many curse words come out of her mouth, but in the hour that he spent talking to her (it was pretty much fifty minutes of her talking, ten minutes of him, and that’s being generous), he learned about an entirely new side of Ariel Fisher.

Or, at least, her mouth.

She is willing to go to war for him. All of these people are, and as flattered and grateful as Killian is for that, right now he is exhausted. Simply thinking about everything that’s going on in his life is exhausting. Hell, he’s just woken up thirty seconds ago, and his brain has already focused in on these catastrophic parts of his life in the damn article and his damn shoulder.

He’ll have to do some of his exercises before he goes into the stadium to meet with Archie for his physical therapy.

Physical therapy before physical therapy. What a concept.

He’ll also have to read the press statement that Ariel has written to be released. It’s all carefully thought out and lawyer approved and absolutely everything that he doesn’t want to say. He wants to say that the people spreading lies about him are the fucking scum of the earth. Instead he has to release a statement politely stating that while he doesn’t usually give out comments on his personal life, he will say that there are parts of his past of which he is not proud but they are in the past. They are not part of his present.

There’s some shit in there about his father and how his words were untrue, but he left that part to Ariel and some of the team’s PR managers to write. Killian knows that he’s too emotional about that to say anything that is even remotely acceptable.

The one part of the statement that he carefully crafted himself is the one at the end where he states in very clear words that Emma has earned every bit of her success in her career, exemplifies the height of professionalism every day, and that insinuating that a woman has advanced in her career because of who she is dating is a form of sexism that he will not tolerate. He may have screwed up in the past when he asked her out, but he’s learning that stupid questions and games aren’t always okay no matter how well-intended they are. Other people should learn too.

That’s all that he cares about the world knowing. They can think all kinds of shit about him and his past and what he did to his father, but they’re not going to get to think that Emma has slept her way up the ladder.

There’s no way in hell.

Slowly, Killian moves to sit up in bed, the covers barely draped over his waist, and starts doing a few short movements with his arm. Emma is still asleep on her side of the bed, nearly all of the blanket bunched around her, and he has to be careful not to wake her up. She is not a fan of being woken up for anything other than food or sex. And sometimes not even those two.

(She always wakes up for food.)

He pads out of his bedroom and down the hallway to the room where he keeps his gym equipment. It’s supposed to be a spare bedroom, but since he already has one of those, he didn’t see the point in having two when he has more use for a bit of a personal gym. Slipping into his sneakers and tying the laces, Killian gets dressed to go for his morning jog. He’s still half asleep, is still wearing the sweatpants that he slept in, but this is going to have to work. He turns on the television so that he has something to distract himself, finding whatever morning show that it is that airs for what seems like ten hours a day, and then he starts a slow jog to try to loosen himself up a little bit.

And to make himself forget.

Focusing on the different ways that his body aches and on the way that he’d rather be in bed usually keeps his mind off of everything else that’s in there fighting for dominance.

Nothing like killing himself with exercise to calm himself down.

It’s an hour run, no more and no less, and sweat is dripping down his entire body by the time that he’s finished. Killian has to towel himself down, wiping away the sweat from his chest and his back before running the cloth through his hair. His shoulder is still stiff, so he picks up the free weights and runs through a few repetitions until he knows that he can’t push himself any further.

In the past, Killian has always pushed himself past his limits, especially when his mind is the one attacking him, but he can’t do that anymore. That’s how he ends up in situations like this.

That and lying his ass off about the kind of pain he’s in.

By the time he finishes exercising, the sun has risen outside, sunshine shining brightly through the glass windowpanes. Having such large windows everywhere is great until he has a bit of a headache and needs a large cup of coffee, about a gallon of water, and something to eat.

Water. He desperately needs water right now. And food.

Killian takes off his socks and shoes and wanders into the kitchen, fixing himself a glass of cold water to drink before making himself some oatmeal. It’s not really what he wants, but it will have to do for this morning. He’ll eat something more filling in the clubhouse.

Soft hands wrap around his stomach, gentle fingers trailing up and down the hair on his chest, and Killian can feel Emma pressing into him and nuzzling her nose in between his shoulder blades. He smiles and puts his spoon back in the bowl on his countertop before placing his hand over both of hers and patting against his abs. Her lips are smooth when they press against his skin in response.

“I thought this a few days ago,” she mumbles, and he can practically hear the sleepy smile in her voice, “but I’m incredibly happy with my life choices right now.”

“And why’s that, love?”

“You’re really damn hot.”

Killian snorts, unable to help himself, and chalks up the heat in his cheeks to him still being warm from exercise. “And by that you mean incredibly sweaty and gross from my workout.”

Emma hums against his skin and tightens her arms around his stomach. “You know, that is exactly what I was trying to say.”

“I thought so. How’d you sleep?”

“Really good actually.” She kisses his back once more before releasing him and stepping around to the side so that he can see her rumpled hair and the way that the t-shirt she’s wearing is falling off of her shoulder. Emma hops up onto the counter, something she’s been doing a lot lately in the mornings, and lets her legs dangle. There are red pillow marks against her cheek. “Your bed is about a million times more comfortable than the one at Ruth’s. I think it hurt my back.”

Killian chuckles and moves to take another bite of his oatmeal before the remaining bit gets cold. “So, you turn twenty-eight in a month, and you’re already preparing to be an old woman. I like that you’re ahead of the game.”

“Twenty-eight is in no way old. Plus, you’re, like, nine months older than me, so you’re not allowed to ever call me old.”

“Nine months is not a long time.”

“Tell that to a pregnant woman.”

“True,” Killian admits, scooping up some more oatmeal. “Do you want something to eat before you go get ready for work?”

“Not hungry.”

“You are always hungry in the morning, Swan.”

She shrugs her shoulders. “There’s a first time for everything.”

The pieces click together in Killian’s mind, and he sighs before stepping in between her legs and reaching his hands up to push all of her stray hairs behind her ears so that he can look into the emerald of her eyes. “So, you’re nervous then?”

“Nope.”

“Emma.”

“I’m nervous as hell,” she admits. That didn’t take much coaxing. “I don’t think…I mean, no one is going to say anything to me. I’m almost sure of it, especially because the only people I’m working with today are Ruby and Jeff and the guys…but I feel like.” She sighs, and he runs his thumb over the apple of her cheek to get her to look back up at him. “I feel like I’m going to have to start over again.”

“You’re not going to have to start over.”

Emma nods her head and leans her cheek into his palm while her eyes close, blonde lashes landing against freckles. “I know. I’m just – I never got to have anything that was simply mine until I was older. I always had to share everything, if there was anything to share. But my work: that has always been mine. Having to deal with people trying to take that away from me is terrifying.”

“No one,” he starts, tapping his thumb, “is taking your job away from you. Are the comments you’re inevitably getting going to suck? Yes. But they’re not true. You know they’re not true, and I know they’re not true. My Emma is too strong to let the words of some misogynistic assholes bring her down.”

She chuckles and opens her eyes before leaning forward and pressing her forehead against his. Her lips brush over his, nothing more than the lightest of fleeting kisses, but her lips never leave his long enough for him to feel her falling away. Emma’s hands ghost over his neck until they’re landing on his shoulders, nails digging into skin, and her lips start moving over his in a slow, lazy kiss that has him tasting the mint of her toothpaste and feeling the warmth of her tongue.

Killian hums into it, tilting his head to the right to deepen the kiss, and Emma’s hands pull him closer into her while the hairs on his arms stand at attention. He doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of kissing her, not like this. And not when her lips trail along his jaw and down his neck, tongue flat against his pulse.

“Darling, as much as I want you, and trust me, I always want you, we don’t have time.”

“I have time,” she mumbles.

“Aye, you do, but what I have in mind takes two of us.”

Laughter passes through Emma’s lips as she pulls back from him, and Killian immediately misses the warm press of her lips. “I’m going to go take a shower in the guest room because I think I’m going to need you to drive me to work.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because there’s a hell of a lot of photographers outside your apartment, and the only way out of here without me punching a camera is through the garage.”

“For fucks sake,” Killian groans, stepping out of Emma’s legs and walking over to the kitchen window to look at the small mass of people waiting outside his apartment. “I’m a baseball player. I literally throw a ball for a living. It’s not that interesting.”

“So, you’ll drive me then?”

“Yeah, Swan. I will. I’ve got to leave in thirty minutes so be quick.”

-/-

A few teammates and managers are in the clubhouse when Killian walks through, and while the room does quiet a bit when he initially walks in, everything goes back to normal as Killian goes through his locker, most of his gear untouched for two weeks now. He’s been here a few times, not every day like he usually is, but it’s still odd to show up for physical therapy and strength training while not actually playing.

His teammates rely on him, and yet he is a bit of a mess right now. They probably all are too. Their lives simply aren’t splashed across the pages of tabloids and on Instagram. He hasn’t seen most of it, all of the apps shut down on his phone, but Ruby has been keeping track and talking to Emma about it.

It’s…a lot.

And everyone now knows more about him than he ever wanted them to.

But it’s fine. It has to be fine. He’s simply here to have his shoulder worked on, and nothing else is going to bother him. He hopes Emma’s day goes much the same. Honestly, that’s what he’s most nervous about especially with how nervous she was this morning and on the car ride over. Her leg never stopped fidgeting.

Today is a huge game with the play-offs being on the line, but he’s not going to still be around the stadium this afternoon. He thought about it and wanted to be there, still kind of wants to, but just being in the locker room today is a little overwhelming. Plus, he doesn’t want to make today any harder on Emma by having her have to interact with him at work. He’ll be around for all of the other big moments to give awful hope-induced speeches and celebrate in the post-game high. Today, he’ll simply watch in the comfort of Liam’s home.

“Oi,” Will greets, slapping Killian’s back. “How was Maine?”

“Fine.”

“Did you impress Emma’s mom?”

Killian almost corrects Will, but he knows it’s not necessary. “I mean, besides her learning about all of my dirty laundry, I do think she genuinely liked me.”

“Well, if she can get past all of that, you’re golden, ponyboy.”

He laughs and rolls his eyes, looking over to Will and the big cheesy smile on his face. “I mean, you got past all of that and are still joking around with me.”

Will shrugs his shoulders. “We’ve all got shit going on in our lives, but my face isn’t handsome enough for me to be a celebrity outside of baseball. I’m just good at my job all on my own.”

Killian reaches out to punch Will’s shoulder but he dodges it, sticking his tongue out. “Asshole.”

“Pretty much. Can you practice with me today?”

“Nah, not today. My doctor’s appointment is in two weeks for him to check up on my arm. I might get to come back then, so you guys better clench the playoff’s spot today so that I can finish this season out on the right note.”

“I’ll try my hardest. Keep your chin up, Jones. You’re prettier that way.”

-/-

Killian works with Archie on his arm for an hour before doing some more strength conditioning for his core, and by the time he’s out of the clubhouse and the locker room, it’s nearly two in the afternoon.

A part of him wants to go see Emma and check on her since the game won’t start for another hour and she’s been here for as long as he has, but he knows that today of all days, he might as well leave her alone while she’s working. They haven’t talked about how they want to interact around the team quite yet, mostly because he isn’t technically back to work, but also because in the three days since his life has blown up, all he’s done is talk. He’s a bit tired of it.

They’ll discuss it later.

For now, he texts her to have a good game before walking through the tunnels to the garage and getting into his car to head back to Midtown so that he can pick Addy and Lucy up from their school.

Uncle of the Year, obviously.

Twenty-five minutes later, he’s pulling into the parking lot of their elementary school, thankful that no one seems to be following him, and slamming his car door shut to walk up the front pathway of the school and pressing the buzzer to the front door to get in. it doesn’t matter how many times he picks them up, the front office secretary always seems to forget who he is.

“Name,” she says through the speaker.

“Killian Jones.”

“Who are you here to pick up?”

“Addison and Lucy Jones.”

It takes a few seconds, and he’s sure that she’s typing in their information. “You’re not one of their parents.”

“Aye, I know,” he sighs, rolling his eyes a bit. “I’m their Uncle. My name is on their approved list. It’s – ”

“Oh, I see you now, Mr. Jones,” she interrupts like clockwork. “I’m buzzing you in. Please wait in the lobby, and the girls will be brought to you.”

Killian nods his head and opens the door after it clicks. Addy and Lucy usually have their nanny pick them up from school since Liam and Elsa are at work, but in the few times he’s done it, he’s quickly learned the routine. He knows that their teacher is currently standing under an awning on the other side of the school with all of the children who are being released to their regularly scheduled guardians, and the teacher’s aide will be the one to bring the girls to him at the front of the school. It always takes about five minutes, and sure enough, after a little over four minutes, he sees two blonde heads of hair come into his view, their backpacks nearly as large as they are.

Out of instinct, he squats down to their level because he knows they’re about to tackle him with an embrace. Sure enough, they do, and Killian swears that his heart grows three sizes like he’s the damn Grinch.

“Why weren’t you at dinner last night?” Addy immediately asks him in leu of a hello.

“I was in Maine. Do you know where Maine is?”

“Nope.”

Killian grabs both of their hands, squeezing Lucy’s a little tighter, and the leads them out the front door so that they can walk toward the parking lot to his car.

“Maine is another state, like New York, and it’s where Emma was born. I spent my weekend there with her.”

“Where is Emma?” Lucy asks.

“She’s at work.”

“Why aren’t you at work?”

Isn’t that the question?

“I hurt my shoulder, Luce. Remember?”

She nods her head.

“Is Emma coming to dinner tonight?” Addison asks him as he opens the back door to his car and lets her climb across to the booster seat that he had to put in his car this morning.

“She’s supposed to, but she might be a little late.”

The girls continue to ask him questions about Emma. Their brains never cease to stop coming up with new ones, and it honestly makes him laugh that they’re so interested in what she’s doing and where she is. It only stings the slightest bit that every time they see him, all they truly care about is seeing Emma.

Then again, that’s exactly how he is too.

They ask for ice cream, and while he would usually stop, Killian is under strict instructions from Elsa not to give them sweets since they’re having some with dinner tonight. So, ever the bearer of bad news, he has to tell them no as they drive through the city on the way to their house. Traffic is surprisingly good, especially for the time of day, but they don’t have to travel far until he’s pulling into the garage and helping the girls grab their things to go inside.

In the ten minutes that they were in the car, they somehow managed to lose all four of their shoes, a hair bow, and Lucy’s favorite stuffed animal.

Just amazing. Honestly.

Killian fixes the two of them a snack, slicing up an apple and some peanut butter, before giving them glasses of water and listening to them both go into very detailed instructions about their days. Addy is obviously more talkative, but they used water colors in Lucy’s preschool class today and the girl is hyped over them.

Seriously. He doesn’t think she has ever been so excited about anything. She may very well be taking after her grandmother in the artistic skills department.

For the next hour, he helps Addy through her few assignments so Liam and Elsa don’t have to deal with it when they get home, but then they’re finished with all of that (thank goodness because getting a six-year-old to focus on school when she’s just left school is damn difficult), and he’s able to turn on the game.

It’s the bottom of the third, and both teams are still scoreless. Arthur is currently up to bat, and while he makes Killian’s jaw clench, he’s a damn good baseball player who they need. You simply can’t win everything.

“Are we winning?” Addy asks before she crawls up next to him and cuddles into his side.

“Not yet, little love.”

“It’s because you’re not playing. They’re not as good without you.”

“Oh, that’s not true,” he sighs, having to bite back his laugh. “We’re a team. They need all of us to be good.”

“Yeah, but you’re the best.”

“You only think that because I’m your uncle.”

“Maybe. All of my friends think you’re cool except for Billy who likes the Red Sox.”

She shifts against him and Lucy does the same, and he swears their elbows are the sharpest objects on the planet. Arthur’s bat makes contact with the pitch, and it flies to the outfield only to be caught and end the inning. Damn. They had two people on base. That could have been huge. The camera changes from the field to Emma where she’s standing just outside the dugout holding a microphone in her hand talking about how today’s game can officially clench their playoff spot. They’re going to make it. All they have to do is win one of their next ten games, and even then, they’d still qualify based on how everyone else in the league is doing.

He’d kind of like to be the number one seed going in, though.

“Do you and Emma have any babies?”

What the hell?

Killian blinks several times before looking down at Addison, who doesn’t seem to realize what she’s just said. She’s simply looking at the television screen still watching Emma.

“No, sweetheart,” he stutters out, “we don’t have any babies.”

“Why not?”

“Um, because it’s not time for us to have babies yet. Babies are loud and messy, and they smell bad, you know? I think it’ll still be a few years before Emma and I have any babies.”

Holy shit. Did he just say that?

How does he get out of this conversation?

“Okay,” Addy shrugs. “I’m going to brush my teeth. They feel fuzzy.”

At that, she gets up from the couch and moves to walk away. Okay, so that’s how he gets out of that conversation.

Kids are so damn weird.

Each inning in the game seems to go on for more than forever, the outs slow to come for each team, and the Yankees finally score in the bottom of the sixth with Booth’s single. It’s a relief, even if there is still a lot of game to be played, but Killian gets distracted by it all when Elsa and Liam walk through their garage door and there’s a bit of chaos with the girls immediately having to tell their parents everything they’ve already told him about their day.

Including the fact that he and Emma don’t have any babies. That gets him quite the look from Liam. Eventually, though, Elsa moves the girls to the kitchen, leaving him with a not-so-subtle wink. She’s very obviously giving he and Liam time to talk, and as much as he appreciates that, Killian also doesn’t want to talk anymore. He wants to lay on this couch and watch this game and not do anything else.

Liam obviously has other ideas.

“I have been contacted by no less than fifteen people today asking me to give my statement or appear on one of those inane morning shows to tell, and I quote, ‘my side of the story.’ It simply makes me wonder how many of these shows Brennan has offers to be on.”

Killian scoffs. “I imagine all of the seedy ones, but I don’t think he’ll do it.”

“No?”

“No.” Killian crosses his legs over each other and props his hands behind his head. “I’ve thought about it a hell of a lot, and I think he did this to hurt us more than the money. Walsh couldn’t have paid him that much. He doesn’t make much money. And it’s not as if there were a lot of details. If he wanted money, he would have gone to a bigger publication. Maybe he’ll do that if there’s enough interest, but I think it was more about hurting me.”

“Do you really think he’s that petty?”

Killian arches a brow. “Brennan Jones? We’re talking about the same man, aren’t we? Of courseOf course , he’s that petty. He only cares about himself. Always has. That’s not going to change.”

Liam sighs and taps his fingers against the wood of the side table. “How are you handling things?”

“Just peachy, thanks.”

“Killian.”

“What?” he sighs, propping himself up on his elbows so that he can actually look at Liam. “I’m pissed. I’m upset. I’m angry. There are so many emotions swirling around in my head that I can’t even keep track of how I feel. And there’s nothing I can actually do about it, you know? The damn thing has spread like wildfire, and I can’t stop it. My statement can’t stop it either. The only real option that I have is possibly suing that bastard for libel, and all that will do is drag both Emma and me into a legal battle that’s simply not worth fighting.”

Liam doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing to be said. They hashed all of this out over the phone. Killian ranted before Liam took his turn. Brennan deserves absolutely no space in either of their minds, but he manages to find it anyways. It is exactly the thing that has fire burning in the pit of Killian’s belly.

“I’m going to be fine,” Killian says to fill the silence that the sounds of the baseball game on the television aren’t filling. “You will be fine. Emma too. It’s just…I hate that it happened, but I can’t change it. I can’t change it, and I can’t fix it. Hopefully things will calm down as the days pass. I imagine that once I start playing again, this will simply be a footnote.”

“You know,” Liam begins, “a man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.”

Killian can’t help but roll his eyes. He’s heard that line a few times before, and it’sit’s always so damn pompous no matter how true it is.

“Yeah, well, the only thing I’m currently willing to fight for is the woman on that TV screen right there. She’s sticking by me because she loves me, and I am not dragging her through the mud anymore.”

“I think I’d likely do the same.”

“I know you would.”

“Daddy,” Lucy screeches as she runs into the room, loose curls escaping her braid and framing her face, “Mommy says that you have to come and put the steaks on the grill outside.”

“Well,” Liam starts as he stands and walks over to Lucy to pick her up and rest her on his hip, “if Mommy says so, then I guess I must.”

The two of them leave the room, and Killian is left to his own thoughts once more. One day, his life won’t be this complicated. It will be complicated in other, different ways, but it won’t be complicated quite like this. One day he will be carrying his own child on his hip, hopefully one he’s had with Emma, and all of the struggles of the day will be put so far in the past that he barely remembers them.

There’s a loud cheering coming from the TV, and Killian twists his head to look at Will running around the bases after hitting a home run.

“Damn, Scarlet,” he mutters under his breath with a smile on his face.

That smile grows a little more when the camera pans to his entire team jumping up and down in excitement, practically shaking the entire stadium. The shiver that runs over Killian’s body makes him feel like he’s there.

God, he’s missed the feeling of being a part of the team like that.

He’s missed playing.

But he’s going to get back to it soon. He has to. His arm is going to get better and be better.

Emma comes onto screen then, a beatific smile on her face that causes his to grow too. “Well,” she starts, laughing at something off screen, “it looks like we’re going to the playoffs.”

#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan

84 notes · View notes

zora-moyashi · 4 years

Text

<--- Prev Next --->

Core

Nightmare was steppingstones down as alpha female, the others were trying to figure out who would be the new alpha female.

as most of the group talk over each other on who should lead, chara goes over to night who has the kits by her. "so how you feeling night? did it work as well as we'd hopped?" tonic goes to talk to shade "what's your plan to stop chara from using the two of your souls? you've had some time to think about it."

Core

“Yes, even if the physical scars don’t heal, it is so much lifted weight.” Nightmare smiled. “Bite.” Shade answered

"Great! What are those guys arguing about?" Tonic laughs a little. "I don't think that'd be very effective."

Core

“Well, since I am no longer the strongest, they are trying to figure out who should be the next alpha.” “Why not?”

Chara nods. "I see, does that bother you?" "Well, at this point she's much stronger than you, and she's grown quite adept with fighting dark type moves."

Core

“Not at all.” Nightmare said. “What about poison moves? Nightmare taught me some.”

"Good, nothing you can do about it now anyway. So I'm playing match maker because I love bugging killer. Do you know if horror likes her? Like, likes her likes her." "It'd be a better option, but as I said. You're not a match for her.

Core

“Horror never stops talking about her, all the time.” Nightmare said. “Ambush!” Shade said, play-fighting Tonic and pinning him to the ground

"Mmm, well that's good enough for me to at least ask. Thanks." She trots away and to the group of stars. Tonic giggles fighting back, they bite him lightly and push him off them.

Core

Shade laughed, wiggling his rear before pouncing again. “I say it should be Killer.” Horror said. “Well I say it should be me.” Cross replied

"Killer's not even here horror!" Chara laughs. The two of them fight until tonic looks around for shine.

Core

“So? She’s strong and smart and brave, I think she’s perfect for alpha.” Horror said. Shine pounced on them both, knocking the wins out of Shade.

"Uh-huh, but who knows when she'll be coming back here." Tonic slid under shine and flipped her up with their head like a rino.ring . shine landed in some soft sand

Core

“Well I’ll wait however long, besides when she gets back I have a surprise for her.” Horror snickered. Shine giggled, getting up and tugging on Tonic’s tail.

"What's that?" She cocks her head. Tonic almost got the tail out of her grip but the barb at the end prevented that

Core

“A secret.” Horror responded. “It’s that dumb bird.” Cross said “Gotcha!” Shine cheered.

" I must not remember if I'm supposed to know which bird. Tonic rolled on the ground and into shine, knocking her over. "Did your brother tell you about what chara's gonna do to the two of you?"

Core

“Shhh!” Horror scolded Cross. “No, what?” Shine asked, giggling.

Tonic looks at shade expecting him to explain. "Ya know you could just give it to her now?"

Core

“I can?!” Horror smiled. “You can what?” Killer asked as she teleported over Shade shook his head no

"Have you been following me again? I thought you broke that little habit." "Do you want me to say than?" Tonic asks

Core

“Bad habits die hard.” Killer said. “Oh! Stay here!” Horror said, running off. “No.” Shade said with a slight hiss

Now that horrors gone chara glares at killer. "Get lost! you're breaking my plans!" "She deserves to know just as much as you did." Tonic sits up

Core

“Horror told me to stay here.” Killer said. “Know what?@ shine asked.

She huffs and walks away towards the kits. "Chara has plans to do something very wrong, to take your powers and your life for her own."

Core

Horror brought back a vulture chick. “Tada!!!” “What’s wrong with that?” Shine asked

"What you guys talking about?" Chara slides in the dirt over to them. "You won't be able to do anything shine. What's not wrong with that?"

Core

“Hiya!” Shine greeted Chara. Killer almost immediately liked the bird.

Tonic looks confused to shade. "Hi kiddo!~" chara replied.

Core

Shade sighed. “You wanna play?” Shine asked

"Yeah sounds good." She gets up "did you learn any cool moves while I was gone?" She forms a spear type thing. Tonic scoots over to shade and asks him to explain quietly.

Core

“Shade did!” Shine smiled, pouncing. “She sees Chara as a new sibling, she doesn’t think Chara is bad.” Shade explained

"My explanation meant nothing to her?" "What you learn shade?" Chara grins

Core

“Nothing important.” Shade answered.

"you're no fun"

Core

“Sorry.” Shade said as Shine pounced on Chara again

chara picks up shine and spins her around before setting her down. tonic doesn't care anymore and just wants to make sure shine knows what will happen. "but-... but shine, it'll be like you're trapped in a body where yu can't do anything at all. that's not okay, right?" chara stares at tonic in disbelief that they told the kits.

“I can still play!” Shine giggled, grabbing Chara’s leg.

"not... really though." tonic is so confused. "chill tonic, if she says she's cool with it than she's cool with it! right kiddo?" chara asks.

Core

“Yeah!” Shine cheered, hanging onto Chara’s leg

tonic shakes their head and walks over to killer and horror while chara plays with shine.

Core

Killer was taking care of the new chick

"new pet?" tonic asks

Core

“Yeah, her name is Maggy.”

"hi there maggy" tonic gently rubs its head.

Core

The chick cooed, before biting

it didn't hurt tonic and they just took their paw away. "how are you going to take care of it while running around with chara's games?"

Core

“Simple, I am gonna stay here, and Horror offered to go with you guys.”

"! uhhh.... hm. so you want to stay and become alpha?"

Core

“Well, That’s between me and Cross.”

chara didn't like how much killer was babying the bird as it worried her she'd be staying here. "i'll be right back shine." she says and goes over to horror. "please tell me you didn't convince her to stay."

Core

“Yes I did! Now you’re stuck with me!” Horror grinned, showing her sharp teeth.

".... not that i don't love ya horror, but that's can't happen."

Core

“And why not?” Horror asked.

";aoeinfa;oefnao;seifj IT JUST CAN'T" she throws her hands up. "pffff fine. fine. horror, don't you want to stay with killer though?"

Core

“Yeah but someone has to watch ya!” Horror said, her voice was naturally loud.

she squints at horror. "=n= i don't need to be watched. also killer definitely likes you even though she pretends not to. so that's a thing."

Core

“I know she does.” Horror said, making Killer blush. “Since when?” “Like three months ago, I’m a light sleeper.” Horror replied

"oh snap. but seriously guys. i've got like what... *she counts in her head* at least 3 people that watch me. i don't really need another."

Core

“Yeah but Killer wants someone she trusts to watch ya.” Horror shrugged. “So for now on you’re my lil sis!” Horror smiled. (Horror is tall by the way, like 6’ 1”)

chara puffs out her cheeks. "no." she turns and grabs tonic. "we're leaving" tonic tries to get their balance.

Core

Horror followed them

"don't follow us horror "

Core

“Nope.” Horror said with a grin

"No." She turns to her abruptly "I said no!"

Core

“And I don’t care.” Horror replied sharply.

"Do you want me to make you stay? cause I will!"

Core

“What are you gonna do?”

"cripple you and leave before you heal-.... wait can you teleport." she glares.

Core

“Maaaaaaaayyyyyybeee.” Horror said with a shit-eating grin

"uh-huh. i'm taking that as a no." she makes an axe and swings at horror's torso.

Horror jumped up into the air and pushed Chara into the dirt.

Chara broke her fall with some indigo magic and hopped back up. tonic takes a step back as chara hits up at horror.

Core

Horror took the hit, but it didn’t seem to affect her at all. She grabbed Chara and slammed her down again. “I don’t think Killer wants me to hurt ya lil sis.”

she spits the dirt out of her mouth while grumbling trying to lift her head. "who cares." she stabbed into her gut.

Core

“I do.” Horror replied, flipping Chara around.

chara squirms as horror holds her down. ";afhoeihfja;oeif j I HATE BEING SMALL"

Core

“No worries lil sis, you’ll grow.”

"you say that but i dunno if it's actually true." she starts slamming her head around trying to hit horror but she's too high up. "GET OFF."

Core

“Ya yield?” Horror asked.

"NEVER"

Core

“Then you’ll stay here, lil sis.”

"TONNNICC help me." tonic shakes their head.

"i hate you all."

Core

“Come on lil sis, just yield.” Horror said

"i'm the most stubborn little shit you'll ever meet. i will get my way one way or another."

Core

Horror sat on Chara, “suit yourself.” Horror said

"...ow."

Core

“Just say yield and we can go, besides, Shatter and Neon are still waiting

"I don't want to."

Core

“Suit yourself.” Horror said.

chara makes a green bubble go around her pushing horror of and chara runs over to tonic. "teleport teleport teleport do the thing" tonic doesn't

Core

Horror chuckled as she teleported, getting dizzy because she wasn’t very good at it.

"ahh so you cannn do it but you suck at it. well that makes things simpler." tonic takes a breath as chara stares them down expecting them to take them back to neon and shatter. tonic complies this time.

Core

Horror grabbed Tonic’s tail at the last second.

"Gosh dang it horror! leave me the hell alone!" chara runns towards shatter and hides behind her.

Core

Shatter hissed at Horror, being protective. (And the honorary mom award goes to Shatter, who is getting way too attached)

(awww, chara likes being taken care of and frankly she misses tori so yee)

she peeks around shatter looking to horror.

Core

Horror had her hands up, “I ain’t looking for I fight, I just wanna tag along so Killer won’t worry.”

"tell killer i'm fine."

Core

“We don’t need any more people to slow us down.” Shatter hissed. “Well how can I do that if I don’t tag along to make sure?” Horror said

chara growls, seemingly picking up the habit form all her star friends.

Core

“Fine, fine, but I will be checking in now and then.” Horror said

"...fine." chara says under her breath

Core

Horror teleported away.

chara steps away from shatter "thanks"

Core

“You ok? You look filthy.”

"she pushed me into the dirt and sat on me."

Core

“She did what?!” Shatter hissed.

"she made me feel completely weak and helpless. i hate that." she pouts.

Core

“Next time I see her...” Shatter growled,

chara shook her head "nah don't blame her, it's fine. just proves i need to get better" she sighs

Core

“Wanna train? Maybe that will make you feel better?”

"yeah, that'd be nice." she smiles

Core

Shatter turned into a three headed dragon

tonic yawns and goes over to lay by neon. chara creates large red claws and watches it's movements for a second.

Core

Neon was sketching a manta ray. This form had horrible balance.

when chara noticed she bolted to the side that was weaker and used orange magic to ram into it

Core

Shatter fell on her side, grabbing Chara with one of the smaller heads and throwing her

chara skid into a tree making her a little dizzy. she throws a large rock towards the head that threw her and runs to one of it's 'wings' about to shread it into ribbons.

Core

The head got crushed, Shatter hissed loudly and she hit Chara with her tail

she got the wind knocked out of her cause she wasn't ready for that.

Core

Shatter used her real head to crush the rock.

chara goes back to ripping up it's wings.

Core

‘I’m already flightless for the most part’ Shatter told Chara.

"eh, you right." she climbs over her body and lays on the hydragon's stomach. "it's hopeless. i just can't get much stronger than i am unless i do something drastic." she flops face first on her.

Core

‘ I think you are getting stronger,’

"what makes you say that?" she mummbles

Core

‘Well, you took on Ink twice, both times she had to flee to heal.’

"but you guys helped."

Core

“Not the first time

"killer helped the first time."

"and she was wounded."

Core

“Sure, But you did the majority.’

she picks her head up "stop trying to make me feel better."

Core

‘That’s my job tho.’ Shatter replied

chara can't help a smile that spreads on her face. "you're so sweet shatter."

Core

‘Nah I just look out for family’

"technically we're not family. makes you even nicer."

Core

‘You’re family to me’

she smiles. "yeah, you too sis."

she gasps "IDEA" she slips off her and stands infront of her. "what if tonic's little watch thing is supper powerful? can we go talk to your smart library friend?"

Core

“Chronicle? I mean we can.” Shatter said.

"nice, let's do that." she skips over to tonic.

Core

Shatter made a portal. “Ready?” She asked the group. Neon saw the anti-void and shuddered. “No thank you.”

"it's fine neon, there's a place right in there." chara looks at the watch and then goes through the portal with tonic behind her.

Core

“Still no.” Neon replied. Shatter went through and closed the portal

"chronicalllllll. remember me?

Core

Chronicle was once again asleep

"wake up." she shakes her shoulder. a much gentler approach than what she did before.

"is all you do sleep? you're worse than sans."

Core

Chronicle yawned. “Good to see you again, and no, I pass out.”

"like... actually pass out or you fall asleep?"

Core

“She actually passes out.” Shatter said

"but whyyyy?"

Core

“Because I keep busy.” Chronicle said, getting up, there was a paper on her desk.

"it's not normal to pass out just because you work bud."

Core

“Well, you try staying up for a week straight and see if you don’t pass out.” Chronicle said. Core floated from the library and waved hello.

"i could go 11 days. try me." she waves too. "hi core."

"okay, to business than." she takes tonic's watch and puts it on the table. "what's this?"

Core

“Oh, a zodiac ring, haven’t seen one since singularity destroyed them.”

"who?"

Core

“I was working on her profile earlier, it should be on my desk.”

"hmm." she goes over to the desk and shifts around papers till she finds it

‘Singularity is from the secret wars timeline, she worked in par with others of the Marvel AU, she controls the galaxy and space time, normally her power can be borrowed through Zodiac rings, which she destroyed.’

"sweet. we got one she didn't get. so we'd be able to 'borrow' her powers. can't say i know exactly what that means." she looks to chonical. "do you have anything on the ring itself?"

Core

“Shelf 32, row 6.” Chronicle told Shatter who went into the library

chara waits and looks over to core.

Core

Core was telling stuff to Chronicle, who was writing. Shatter came back with a file

she goes over to shatter.

Core

Shatter handed over the file.

"wait... hold up." she picks up the watch. "but this has more than just the astrology zodiac signs."

"maybe it's a different thing all together."

"that's why she didn't find it"

Core

“It could also be for more than one similar being.”

"yeah that's a thought." chara flips through till she finds graphs and pictures cause screw words. "well, there's all the names, i haven't heard of half of these. then there's a map of where the constellations are at a certain time... I'm not seeing anything about creatures having these stones?"

"here you look" she hands it off to shatter again.

Core

Shatter nodded, “it does mention beings of the stars.” Shatter read

tonic buts in. "is ursamajor on there?"

Core

“Yeah, and capricorn, and cancer.”

(here's the other constellations that aren't zodicas that are on the watch pegasus, orion, draco, canis major, auriga, aquila, quetzalcoatl (only in this universe) lyra, ursa major and minor, cygnus, monoceros, lupus, delphinus, serpens, and boötes. that's a list omg )

Core

(We are definitely doing the cool ones.) Chronicle went to get a new file, labeled X-23.

(so to clarify. pegasus, hunter, dragon, greater dog, chariot, eagle, feathered snake god, lyre, big bear little bear, swan, unicorn, wolf, dolphin, serpent, and bull. )

(and lesserdog i gueewssss )

Core

(Let’s Do serpent, Pegasus, hunter, dragon, greater dog, amphetere, and bull.)

(what's amphetere?)

Core

(a winged snake)

(ahhh okey but quetzalcoatl doesn't have wings, just feathers, it floats like a dragon._

Core

(Hmmmm ok

(also "i winged snake" perfection) "okay so we could go look for info on these constellations i guess, does it have enough info in there to tell us where to find any of them?”

Core

“The serpent is a wyrm, located underneath England.”

"which england? haha"

Core

“Norse timeline.”

"okay shall we go now?"

the part of the watch that had the serpens simbal on it started to glow green.

(like so)

Core

Shatter nodded, making a portal

they were already underground so it was dark besides tonic's bio light.

Core

Shatter seemed to sense something. “Everyone hold on

"to what? there's nothing here but dir-" the tunnel shakes.

Core

Shatter quickly turned into an ankylosuarus

chara jumps when she sees the wyrm. it's just staring at the group.

Core

Shatter slammed her tail down, ready for a fight

the wyrm was wounded. arrows were sticking out of its back. it didn't look ready for a fight as it yelled a warning to the group.

Core

Shatter roared back, slamming her tail.

it hit the cave wall and a bunch of rocks came crashing down. it ran away while they fell.

Core

Shatter turned back. “Man, didn’t think it would run

"hmm, maybe we should talk to the people around here, cause clearly they want this thing dead."

Core

“Maybe, But this timeline they also do ‘witch hunts’.”

"they don't gotta know we've got powers. tonic's another story but still"

Core

Shatter sighed. “Tonic, would you mind staying down here? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

tonic looks around the area, liking the cool and dark they spin before laying like a cat "yeah, have fun."

"good that's settled."

Core

Shatter sighed, turning into a giant mole

chara climbs onto the fur of her back

Core

Shatter then dug a tunnel out

at the surface it was much colder with snow about knee deep. the people up there seem to be panicking, but not over shatter.

Core

Shatter was blind in this form, so changed back

"cheery place hm?" she laughs and goes twords them

Core

They were attacking this timelines Nightmare, using Harpoons

To keep her from fleeing

(what is this nightmare)

(Star)

"hehe, is it bad that i'm enjoying watching this shatter?"

Core

“At least they didn’t notice me.” Shatter said. Unlike their Nightmare, this one still had Her coating, and both eyes.

chara goes closer. her clothes didn't stand out that much so they weren't too freaked out besides she's a kid that came out of no where. the nightmare was doing fairly well on getting the harpoons away.

Core

“Go away kid! This is no place for a chil-“ a man said before getting his skull crushed

"pfff" she shuffles over to a house looking inside. lots of weapons. that's almost all they have.

She did find one intresting thing, soulstones but they were smaller than the ones she's seen, even the kits. The put them up like trophies.

Core

Shatter shuddered at this. “Those are infants....no wonder that Nightmare is pissed.” She said, noticing the coloration.

Taking another look some of the people fighting drilled a hole through them and wore them as necklaces. (What coloration?)

Core

(Deep violet, Nightmare’s color, a sign they were related to her) Shatter was clearly uncomfortable with this.

Chara clicks her tongue. "What do you suggest? I could take a bunch of these people out as free exp. But we'll have quite the enamy than.

Core

“Honestly I feel like I’m gonna throw up.” Shatter admitted.

"That won't help these or future kits shatter, but do what you wanna do." She grabs a speer and heads the the front lines.

Core

Shatter was eager to leave the house. The townspeople didn’t let Chara close, as some people used the wire of the harpoons to somewhat control Nightmare’s tentacles

Chara waved at the humans to shatter in descust. "Come on, let's just work together and take them out. Humans all suck anyway."

Core

“Well, you don’t, But I will gladly kill these assholes.” She said, turning to a freybug, She howled, immediately getting the townspeople’s attention as they knew this creature

Chara clearly didn't agree with that first part. As the people panic wondering who to attack chara gets 3 easy kills.

Core

Shatter charged, tearing up multiple people as this version of Nightmare tried to flee, but the harpoons were in the ground

Chara hopped over and cut all the ropes and took out a couple harpoons. Chara hands nightmare two soulstones she grabbed, she didn't think they were still alive but maybe a momento.

Core

Nightmare took them and fled.

As shatter made havoc chara enjoyed the snow by falling face first. She giggles then gets back to taking out people she got about 10 and they're trying to run from the area

Core

Shatter chased them off, but didn’t get unscathed, one of the people she killed got a knife in her front leg.

Chara calls for shatter to come back.

Core

Shatter did come back, limping slightly, she didn’t want to change forms while injured

Chara grimaces at the wound and gets some clean clothes off of on of her victims. She wraps it up. "Let's get you back to tonic. It's too bad we didn't get any info." She gets up

Core

‘Actually I did, the serpent had been eating livestock’ Shatter explained.

"How'd you know that?" At the hole them made chara stars to slide back down.

Core

‘When a freybug kill someone it absorbs their soul.’

"Weird. That must be annoying." Charas a complete mud ball when they get back to tonic. Tonic stands to meet them as chara dumps some evergreen trees at their feet.

Core

‘I find it rather helpful’ Shatter said, limping down the tunnel

Tonic was confused for only a second, they obsorbed the plant and handed shatter their head upside down.

Core

Shatter seemed hesitant, before licking up the fluid

Tonic can't see or hear when it's detached so they just wait. Chara goes to clear the tunnel with a few fighting moves she's picked up.

Core

Shatter turned back, once the wound was only a small cut, she reattached Tonic’s head.

Tonic shakes their head a bit of liquid returning to it. Seeing shatter's better they smile and go help chara with the rocks.

Core

Shatter went over to help too

They make a hole and tonic leads the way through. "The creature probably left the area " Tonic says

Core

“Then we wait.” Shatter said

"Borinnnnnng" Chara whines

Core

“It’ll come back for food.”

"We should lure it. How good do you think it's smell is?"

Core

“Snakes normally have good senses....” Shatter turned into a goat.

"Shall We Get Some Of Those bodies?"

Core

‘That’s a better idea’ Shatter admitted

"K" she goes and throws a few of the bodies down the hole. "Dinner is served little snake~" she slides back down with the last few. The smell of blood was very strong.

Core

Shatter turned back to her normal form and waited

Chara yawned sitting on some of the bodies. Now not just a mud ball but a bloody mud ball. Tonic was actually descused and sitting a ways away while not looking in that direction.

Core

Shatter heard soft hissing

Chara ripped off an arm when she heard it as well, weapon, bait, whatever it is.

Core

A pair of gleaming eyes shined further down the tunnel

"Why is it not coming?" Chara whispered.

Core

It sees us.” Shatter whispered

"Well now what?" She questions. "Think it knows this is for it? Think it'll trade for the gem? Cause frisk would like that, well, frisks body I guess."

Core

“Hold on, you can still tell what frisk wants? I thought you had full control?” The serpent flicked its tongue, showing the gem

"Would ya look at that!" She smiles perposfully ignoring shatter's question. Chara holds out the arm for it and lays it closer to the snake.

Chara steps back.

Core

The snake flicked it’s tongue again

"Do you want it or nah?" Chara asks. Tonic looks like they're gonna throw up.

Core

The snake slithered to the pile.

Chara squats down by it. "Can I have the gem sweetie?"

Core

It looked at her and stuck out it’s tongue

Chara scoots closer and sucks up her fear and reaches for the gem.

Core

The snake held still

She got the green gem and pulled away. "Thank you~! We'll leave you alone to enjoy your dinner than." She smiles and slides over to shatter. "That worked~"

Core

“Yeah.... are you scared of snakes?”

"I ain't scared of no things." She puffs her chest heroically. Then deflates thinking it over more. "Yeah. Scared of nothing" she says quitely not as sure.

Core

Shatter turned into a snake, ‘you sure?’

Tonic made a cave inside the cave and held their head down trying to calm its bubbling stomach. Chara looks at shatter unamused. "That's not funny shatter."

Core

‘Shatter waved her head back and forth, flicking her tongue. ‘Well? Are you scared?’

(BTW the only reason tonic is having such a hard time is because blood contains determination, if this was dust or something of the sort they wouldn't care. Tonic is attracted to the highest source of DT and this is hurting their senses.)

"No. Now cut that out, we have places to go."

Core

Shatter soon noticed Tonic, she turned back to normal. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Tonic just shakes their head. "Can we l-leave?"

Core

“Yeah, yeah we can.” Shatter said making another portal back to neon

Tonic jumps through and goes far from the portal. Chara follows. "We're back, with a gem, and we learned some things." She holds up the watch

Core

“Is that so?” Horror asked, here for the first ‘check up’

Chara looks kinda annoyed that she's here but she sucks it up. "Yeah so here's the names of each spot *she says them all* they all belong to whoever scattered all over the multiverse. So its hunting time. Also horror." She spins around shoeing all the grim and blood on her. "Like my new look?~"

Core

“Honestly yeah, looks scrumptious. Ya’ll went out to lunch?” Horror asked.

"Not exactly." Chara turns to shatter. "So about your question before. I kinda just feel frisks habits cause they're tide to my nerves and brain that's wiped of most any trace of frisk being there. not like I hear his voice or nothin"

Core

“Ok good.” Shatter sighed

Chara cocks her head wanting more of an explanation

Core

“I just didn’t want you to have to deal with any demons or crap.” Shatter explained as Horror left

"Haha, he could never be a demon, too much of a wimp. Okay so neon, you gonna come with us this time?"

Core

“If you are gonna to the void, no way.” Neon said.

"We'll be there for like a second though!"

Core

“Nope! No way.”

"Your loss!" Tonic takes chara to the library this time sense they know where it is now.

"Chronicalllll you asleep again?" She peeks into the room.

#rp chain #ignore me #long

3 notes · View notes

its-r-i-d-i-c-u-l-o-u-s · 5 years

Text

Right Side of Wrong- Ch 9: Part of the Solution

Words: 1,413

Warnings: None

Ch 8 | Ch 10

~ ~ ~

Harry and Gil dragged Ben along by his bound arms. He had stopped resisting a while ago, so there wasn’t really a point for them to both have a hold of him, but they did anyway.

Up ahead of them was the girl he had come to know as Uma, daughter of Ursula. She walked with a purpose, smirking at anyone who came to gawk at her new capture. King of Auradon. Who would’ve thought.

He recognized the clearing they had reached a moment later. It was underneath the bridge… where they had parked the limo.

He panicked for a minute, wondering if they planned to hijack the car. Maybe someone had swiped the remote from Jay and they were all going to get off the Isle. But after a minute he realized… the limo was gone.

Had they left him? Ben wondered. Jay? Carlos? Evie? Had they gone back to Auradon?

… Were they actually getting the wand?

Uma hopped into the pipe tunnel that he had wondered about earlier and suddenly Ben definitely did not want to know where it led. But Harry and Gil pulled him along through the tunnel and onto a ship.

For the first time since he had gotten to the Isle, Ben could see the sun. It had been hours since he and the other VKs snuck away to get Mal. No doubt he was missing class at this point. Maybe someone had reported him and the others as missing? But would anyone think to check here?

His two guards began to reattach him to the mast of the ship.

Ben glanced around. Uma had wandered off the minute they reached the ship. A few miscellaneous crew members walked about the deck, but no one paid him much of a second glance.

Except for Harry. He obviously did not have much of an issue with boundaries, because the moment Ben’s ropes were sturdy, he got right up in the king’s face.

“Well, if it isn’t King Ben all tied up and in a rut. I wish I could relish in this moment forever.”

Ben grimaced, as Harry rubbed his hook underneath Ben’s chin.

“How’s it feel being a king now, eh?” He laughed, circling the mast like a vulture.

Ben took in a breath, trying not to let the boy bug him, when Uma approached once more and pulled him away. “Give it a rest, Harry. Give it a rest. We don’t want damaged goods.”

Ben raised an eyebrow as Uma walked past and sat down on the steps in front of him.

“You said that I could hook him!” Harry argued, baring his teeth.

“I said, at noon,” she stressed.

Harry narrowed his eyes at the king, then held up a pocket watch in his face.

“20 more minutes,” he threatened.

Ben glanced at it, then chuckled. “That says 11:30.”

“You better hope your girlfriend comes through,” Uma interrupted, not wanting Ben to set Harry off any more than he already had.

“Well, she’s not my girlfriend anymore,” Ben admitted, his eyes trained on Harry, who waltzed around to Uma’s side.

The boy began to laugh and Uma’s face broke out in a smile. “Leave us alone, Harry.”

As the pirate walked past, he leaned in and whispered, “19 minutes to go, now.”

“Go.” Uma was obviously unfazed by Harry’s flirtatious and unsettling manner.

When the boy was finally gone, Ben decided that maybe there were ways for him to get out of this. “I get that you don’t deserve this,” he sympathized.

“‘This?” she asked. “This island is a prison thanks to your father. And don’t pretend to look out for me. Because no one’s looking out for me. It’s just me.”

“So this isn’t your mom’s plan?” he questioned.

She scoffed at him, pushing her hair from her face and he noticed something else.

“Isn’t that her necklace?”

“My mom doesn’t care about me, either. Well, not unless she needs someone for the night shift.”

“Ouch,” Ben responded. “I guess upstanding parenting is common on the Isle.”

“I don’t need your pity,” she snapped. “No one here does.”

“No, you certainly don’t,” Ben admitted. “You’re very resourceful… I don’t see you tied up.”

“All right. So let’s trash talk Mal,” she offered.

Ben saw through her ploy. In his emotional vulnerability, she could get him to spill secrets. So, he shook his head. “I’d rather talk about you.”

“Mm. Funny and a gentleman. I really hope I don’t have to feed you to the fishes.”

“Well, you don’t,” he tried. “Set me free. And we’ll go back together.”

“Oh, so now I get an invite,” she exclaimed, approaching him. “Gee, I wonder why… When you brought Mal, Evie, Carlos, and Jay to Auradon, that’s as mad as I’ve ever been in my life. And trust me, I’ve been plenty mad.”

Ben didn’t doubt it. Uma looked like a powerful being. So, he tried once more to convince her of his sincerity.

“I never thought of it like that before. That I could’ve hurt the people I didn’t pick. My plan was to start with four kids and bring more people over. I guess I was busy being king- That sounds lame… I’m so sorry. You’re a leader, Uma. So am I. Come to Auradon and be part of the solution!”

“Me?” she blinked. “Part of your solution?”

Ben waited quietly for her to indicate that she would let him go.

She leaned forward, quietly saying, “Nah. I don’t need you. I’m gonna get there on my own.”

She smiled at him and Ben found himself drawn to her presence. She was powerful, alright. He could understand why these people like Harry followed her so devotedly.

He knew that one day, Uma would get off the Isle. He could only hope that when it came she had good intentions.

~ ~ ~

Evie and I could just make out the limo as it rolled over the magic bridge. We stood silently for several minutes, waiting for the boys to roll up. When they finally did, though, instead of Carlos popping out of the passenger seat, it was Lonnie.

“I’ll get the swords,” Jay told her, jogging to the back of the car.

“Lonnie?” I demanded.

She rushed over, wrapping me up in a hug. “I made them bring me.”

I pulled away from her. “Jay?! What happened to not telling anyone in Auradon?” I yelled at him.

“Welcome to the Isle,” Evie greeted her. “It’s good to see you.”

Jay and Carlos strolled around the car, a large gym bag in tow. “I didn’t tell her,” he insisted. “But she did provide us with swords.”

He pulled open the bag so I could see the gym practice swords. The Tourney team often sparred with them.

“I guess weapons are good,” I grumbled. “But hide those. The fact that I’m walking in there with all of you is bad enough. If Uma sees us with swords, she’ll flip.” I turned to Carlos and held out my hand. “Let me see.”

He dropped the wand replica into my palm.

“You guys are geniuses,” I complimented. “It’s perfect.”

I handed it back to Carlos and he hid it inside his jacket. He knew as well as I did that you never walked into a deal waving the bargaining chips. Uma wouldn’t expect me to just hand her the wand… I had to argue first.

“Here’s the plan. I’ll walk up ahead. Carlos, you follow me with the wand. The rest of you, stay back. Evie, you got the smoke bombs?”

She nodded, lifting up her purse for me to see.

“Great. Lonnie, you carry the swords. Don’t open them until the Uma breaks the wand. She’ll catch on otherwise. Jay…” I sighed. “Don’t let me get too frustrated and compromise us.”

He chuckled, knowing full well that I would beat the shit out of Uma if she dared do anything unwarranted to Ben.

“And finally, no one step onto the ship. We stay on the dock for the entirety of the fight.”

Lonnie raised an eyebrow. “Ship?”

“That’s where we’re going,” I told her. “Uma’s pirate ship. It’s her territory. If you step over there, you are giving her the upper hand and playing offense in the fight. We’re not here to make a statement about Uma’s soldiers or her leadership. We came to get Ben and leave.”

“It’s noon,” Jay said.

“All right,” I sighed. “Let’s do this.”

20 notes · View notes

winx2200 · 4 years

Text

SasuNaru fanfic

Finally finished this. It’s not perfect but I’ll be editing it later. If anyone’s interested in reading this on another site with a better organization I’ll post it on Wattpad with the same name. I’ve never written romance before so excuse the bad use of words and I’m too lazy to edit this rn so you’re stuck with this bad version. Hope y’all enjoy!

Never Truly Gone

Part 2.

Naruto woke up, frowning at the light barely passing through the slim opening of his curtains.

“What time is it?” He asked groggily, not to anyone in particular. Opening a single eye, he felt around for his phone, groaning in glee when he finally found it. Looking at his phone, all his previous drowsiness faded away.

“Ah! I´m going to be late!” He said, getting up and questioning briefly why he was on the floor when he remembered his answer. Though it he was curious as to how his blanket and pillow magically followed him down the stairs. Deciding not to dwell too much on it, he rushed to the bathroom to freshen up before going to a very important village meeting.

He jumped out the window, stumbling upon contact with the roof of his neighbor’s yet still managing to be completely silent, as not to get another noise complaint.

Naruto hopped from roof to roof, waving carelessly to anyone who happened to get a glimpse of him. This wasn’t unusual behavior, the villagers were all accustomed to the Hokage’s care-free nature, even helping to elevate the town’s spirits in times of crisis. It was their daily routine, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Only a few minutes late, Naruto bust into the meeting room breaking the window and landing directly in his chair. In his haste, it almost tipped over, saved by Sakura’s hand.

“Hi everyone!” He smiled, closing his eyes. The council stared at him with disinterest, promptly getting back to what they were discussing prior to his arrival. The only one to say hi to him was Hinata, waving shyly.

“I say we just bust in there, clear them out in one go.” Sakura proposed, crossing her arms.

Shikamaru opened one of his eyes. “How about we do something… less stupid?”

The council began to argue within themselves about what their approach to targeting a group of criminals supposedly living near their area should be. According to rumor’s they were supposed to be fairly strong, one of the main reasons their village would be handling this incident.

“Hey, hey! Calm down.” He said, standing up and waving his arm as if he were talking to a bunch of toddlers.

They immediately quieted down. “Kiba and Shino will scout the place out. If they seem too strong for both of you feel free to call for back up.” Naruto directed, utilizing a more formal tone.

Kiba shrugged. “Seems fun. We’ll get rid of them quickly right Shino?” He joked, jabbing him in the gut with his elbow. “Of course,” Shino stated simply, ignoring the hit he just took.

“Well,” the Hokage clapped, “looks like we finished things here. I’ll be on my way to get breakfast-”

“We’re already done?” Ino asked, disappointed. A few of the more enthusiastic members nodded, wanting to continue the meeting.

“Oh, yeah,” Naruto started, plopping down onto the table, Sakura and Shikamaru distancing themselves from him. “I had someone follow me last night.”

The room got serious, tension beginning to settle in.

“I could sense them but pinpointing them was hard. They seemed relatively passive though. Not really something we should worry about I think.” Naruto scratched his head, picking up the train of his coat and putting it on the table.

“Though… they could be part of the group that’s been causing a ruckus. So that’s why you’re going Kiba… I guess.”

“Thanks!” Kiba boasted.

Ino facepalmed. “Why didn’t you start by this?”

“They could be dangerous…” Shikamaru added.

“I don’t think so,” Naruto said, standing on the table.

“But-” Sakura started.

“No buts. I don’t think we need to pursue them so just focus on your current missions okay?” Naruto cut in, patting Sakura’s head with his foot.

“I- get off me! - guess…” She said, pushing him off the table. The blonde landed on the ground, hardly maintaining his balance. The previous tension was instantly cut due to the silly acts, Hinata giggling at their antics.

“Now that everything is solved. Ramen time!” He yelled, putting his hands in the air and jumping out of the window he broke into, his voice fading as he fell.

The day went by quickly, Kiba and Shino reporting back quickly having already taken care of the group. For safe measure, Naruto commanded a couple of shinobi to take care of the cleanup and monitor the area.

He took an afternoon nap to make up for the lost sleep in the evening, not minding that this could ruin his sleep schedule. When came to it was already sunset, making him wonder why no one had woken him up. It was probably Hinata’s fault anyway, she knew when he needed sleep and told them not to wake him up.

Naruto smiled slightly. He has such good friends.

It was already nine and he had finished all his work so, “Time to go home!” Naruto fist pumped into the air. Outside once again, he felt the air lash at his cheeks, red dust covering them. Naruto facepalmed. “Ugh… I’m so dumb.” He covered his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Indeed you are.” A voice called out of the darkness. Naruto stopped to look towards the source of the sound, but the figure had already moved. He could sense him, but like before, he had no clue where he was. The voice was male, low and husky, the phrase short and simple. It felt familiar, as if he had heard it before, albeit not knowing when or where.

“Hey! Only I can say that!” Naruto yelled, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff.

“As if.” The voice responded, this time coming from another location.

Naruto growled and pursed his lips. “Ah!!! Fight me!” He yelled, completely disregarding that it was nighttime. Another faint voice yelled back, telling him to shut up as there were people who were trying to sleep.

“Sorry!” He said back, his blush not now only just because of the cold.

The figure, wherever he was, began to clap slowly. Naruto’s eyebrows furrowed in anger, his cheeks reddening even more. “Yes, you’re not dumb, very smart indeed.” He hummed in agreement, the amusement visible in his voice.

“I’m not dumb, dumbass.” The voice said.

“Says the idiot.” Naruto shot back.

“Imbecile.”

“Stupid.”

“Dunce.”

“Uh… You… Y-you…”

“Cat got your tongue?” The voice teased.

“Die, you constipated vulture!” Naruto quickly responded.

The figure, unable to contain their anger, flew out of the shadows jumping towards the blonde. Naruto sprung out of the way with ease, smirking at the figure. They were a few feet away apart, both illuminated by separate lamposts for the sake of composition. The stranger wore the same clothes as before, his position seemingly normal, but the slight tension in his posture showing he was prepared for any attacks Naruto planned to make.

“Haha! I got you out of the shadows!” He mocked, putting a hand on his stomach. They just crossed their arms, facing away from Naruto. “Ignoring me now? Hmph, then I will too. Good day, sir.” He joked, walking away from the individual.

Naruto waved, not looking back. “See you later!”

“Are you going to leave just like that?”

“I’m not having an argument with a vulture!”

“I’m not a vulture!”

“You look like it with that hair!” Naruto said, not bothering to turn back as the voice faded.

“And you look like you got hit by a thunderbolt!”

Naruto turned around rage bubbling up his throat. But he was met with no one, he couldn’t sense the person anymore. Sort of disappointed, Naruto walked back to his house, his shoulders slightly hunched. The person no doubt got on his nerves, but it was sort of fun, exhilarating even to be able to banter with someone so easily.

It reminded him of a previous relationship he had with somebody he used to know. His heart was doused in guilt, and Sadness threatened to spill over in the form of tears. He shook his head, trying to push his feelings down and think of something else. Like the mysterious person following him around.

His instincts were that they harbored no ill intentions, and that made him even more curious. Why him? The most dangerous person in the village? They must be confident in their abilities then, maybe even on par with his. This, however, was a little more threatening to him. He needed to be strong, to protect his friends.

Rubbing his head, Naruto looked up at the stars. He wondered if Sasuke was looking down on him.

The stranger ran away from the Hokage, a small smirk playing on his lips. It was weird squabbling with his old friends, especially when they had spent so much time apart. For some reason, they still fit perfectly, insults bouncing off each other, neither taking them too seriously.

Not that he’d admit it aloud, but he missed it. He missed being able to simply talk with his - something else he wouldn’t admit aloud - best friend. At least that’s what Naruto probably thought of their relationship. As just… friends. Even if it was a long time ago his feeling never properly went away, the strange sense of hurt and pain in his heart whenever he’d jokingly call them best friend, a feeling of euphoria consuming him anytime he’d see the blonde laugh heartedly at his sarcasm, a slight blush spreading across his cheeks, or when he executed a difficult Jutsu with grace, only to be destroyed by his boasting in the end.

God, he loved it, he loved him. And this time he spent without seeing him made him really realize and accept his feelings after four long stubborn years.

Slapping his cheeks (silently, somehow) Sasuke inhaled sharply. And it hurt. Knowing that they could never be what he wanted, and it was all his fault, not that Naruto would ever like him like that anyway.

#naruto love sasunaru bl yaoi sasuke

3 notes · View notes

elven-oracle · 6 years

Text

the siren, act i: serenity |p.p. / part 1|

moodboard credit to @candycornparker

[teaser] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7]

SUMMARY: When merchant ships start mysteriously going missing, Tony Stark enlists the help of Peter Parker to discover what could possibly be causing them to vanish from thin air. Unbeknownst to them, some mysteries go deeper than the sea itself.

PAIRING: Peter Parker x Siren!OC

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

Peter Parker was not engaged in his modern politics class.

School was miles away. The only thing he was engaged in was the phone that had vibrated in his pocket at the beginning of seventh period. He would have gotten it confiscated if he hadn’t suavely talked his way out of the predicament. Now, the phone was burning a hole in his pocket, and his leg was bouncing out of control. Happy Hogan’s name appearing on his screen was a rare occurrence, and it sucked that it had popped up almost milliseconds before the bell rang. He stole a glance at the clock for the millionth time that afternoon and realigned his focus for the last ten minutes.

“Okay,” his teacher, Mr. Ellis, looked through his lesson plan, “We have ten minutes left, let’s briefly touch on the missing merchant ships.”

The class erupted into excitement, every student turning to each other to dive into the various theories they had heard, and some that they had come up with themselves. It was a topic of particular interest and had been dominating the news. Peter had a decent feeling the notification had something to do with it as well; this type of mystery was like candy for Mr. Stark.

“Okay! Okay!” Mr. Ellis sighed, trying to settle down his class, “Yes. It’s insane. It’s crazy. We’re not here to talk about aliens, or the Bermuda triangle, this is a politics class and I want you to tell me how this affects international relations.”

Peter wanted to zone out again, even though he knew the answer. He looked over to Ned, who was sitting across the room and rolled his eyes. The Friday blues were hanging over their heads, the weekend just a hop away.

“Attacks on trade ships have started world wars,” MJ said, she was sitting next to Ned. If there weren’t assigned seats, they would all be sitting together. In usual MJ fashion, she hadn’t not bothered to raise her hand. She shrugged at Peter and returned to her sketch.

Mr. Ellis affirmed this, “Correct. The mysterious disappearance has already caused tension. Since there is no viable evidence that this is an attack, not a whole lot can be done, and next week we’ll dive further into the problem trade relationships can cause. Have a good weekend.”

Before Mr. Ellis had finished his sentence Peter was out of his seat, packing up his notebook and laptop to leave school. He bounded out, racing towards the door in a childlike glee and whipped out his phone from his back pocket. Sure enough, there was a text from Happy waiting for him, along with a sleek black car in the front of the school. Happy Hogan leaned against it, looking unamused. He adjusted his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose and opened the door.

“You got my text, Mr. Parker?”

Peter skimmed it, Boss needs your help with an important project. Might have to stay overnight. Will pick you up from school. He nodded.

“Have you let your aunt know?”

“Will do!” he shot him an enthusiastic set of finger guns and fell into the backseat, shooting May a text to let him know what his weekend might hold.

Happy wasn’t much of a talker, and it was hard for Peter to shut up when he was bursting with excitement. He kept his mouth shut, anyways, not wanting to say anything stupid. This was the first time he had heard the phrase “important project” in all the time he had been working with Mr. Stark, and the potential was endless. It had been a painfully long month since anything interesting had happened, and even then, interesting was an understatement. Taking down Mr. Toomes, who Peter had now nicknamed The Vulture, was terrifying, but in the best way possible. He finally felt like he was doing something right. Petty theft and muggings could only fuel his need to help for so long. The responsibility he carried with his abilities seemed to grow with every day that was put in between the last time he had spoken with Mr. Stark. The fact that he had enlisted his help, he couldn’t help but be thrilled.

His phone buzzed again, a text from Aunt May.

Okay, Peter, next time maybe call and ask? I know that you haven’t been putting yourself in too much danger, but the Spider-Man thing still worries me.

He sighed. The care that he felt for Aunt May was unparalleled, which was precisely why he had no intention for her finding out. She obviously had been struck with quite a shock, walking in on him wearing his suit, but with further explanation, it had all made sense. She wasn’t dense; she knew he had been sneaking out. After probably the longest conversation of his life, she finally gave in to business as usual, as long as he kept open communication with her.

He twiddled his thumbs until the Avengers Complex came into sight. The place felt like Disneyland to Peter, and it took everything in him not to jump from the car and take off running.

Mr. Stark, dressed in his usual formal attire, met them outside. His expression was unidentifiable thanks to the sunglasses that shaded his eyes, and he didn’t speak a word as he led Peter inside. His confident gait remained unaffected by Peter’s eager nature.

“Mr. Parker, how have things been? Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man keeping you busy?”

“Yes sir, I-“

“And your aunt? I heard she found out?”

“She did Mr. Stark but-“

“And school? I can only do so much to get you into MIT.”

“School’s all right and wow I really appreciate that Mr. Stark but-“

“You got a girlfriend yet? Boyfriend? I don’t know your preferences I guess but-“ “Mr. Stark!” Peter finally cut him off, frustration and curiosity getting the better of him. Sometimes his mentor’s wittiness was humorous, but when it was knowingly teasing, he didn’t want to beat around the bush. Mr. Stark raised his eyebrows and took off his shades, stopping the steady pace they had been keeping

“Peter. Suit up. I’m assuming you brought the suit. Happy will take you to my lab where I can explain everything. Kapeesh?”

Peter nodded, nervously fidgeting with the straps on his backpack. He watched Mr. Stark confidently put on his sunglasses and walk away, unsure of how to feel. In front of him, Happy gestured him towards the restroom.

Being able to take his time changing into his suit was a new feeling. Normally he would be hidden in an alleyway, doing all he could to remain unidentifiable, but now he stared at his reflection in the mirror, unfazed. He paused before taking pulling the mask over his head, examining the expression in his chocolate eyes. There was a bit of fear in them, but like every Spider-Man duty, he brushed it away and pulled the mask on, his suit coming to life.

Good afternoon, Peter. How was your Friday?

“Good, Karen. Good,” Peter exhaled, unaware that he had been holding his breath.

Glad to hear it.

Feeling somewhat clownlike standing next to Happy, he followed a maze of hallways and a few flights of stairs to their final destination. A few times, Happy had to scan his hand to get through, which Peter found incredibly impressive. One day he hoped to be at that level of trust with Mr. Stark.

The lab was not of the tradition he was used to, but it was a prime example of who Mr. Stark was as a person. Music boomed and reverberated off the walls, various AI’s and robots assisting their creator at every command. Happy stood at the door as Peter, eyes wide as saucers, gawked at his surroundings.

“Like it? It’s gone through phases. Variations. Had to move it a couple times. Especially when my house practically burned down,” he searched for Peter’s eyes through the mask. “Mind taking that off for a moment?”

Peter scrambled to remove it, “Oh! Yeah of course. Sorry.”

He added a nervous laugh for good measure.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. pull up my research on the missing boats.”

Right away.

Holographic images, articles, and videos all materialized directly in front of Peter’s eyes. They layered and piled on one another, and if these had been physical documents, it would have reached the ceiling. The devastating mystery continued. 64 lives had been lost, no one knows if they were stranded or dead. It had been months since these ships had been heard from, and no one knew where they were going. No bodies, no remains, no rubble, nothing gave any sort of lead to where or why they were vanishing. The only information they really had was-

“After the United States made a slight variation in the route they were taking, ships went missing left and right, luckily, they were smart enough to figure that minuscule clue out. Thoughts?” Mr. Stark looked at Peter quizzically.

“I-uh-well-“ Peter started to fumble over his words, but regained his composure to add on his ideas, “They have sent rescue boats through that route though, correct? The video and audio footage from the last five minutes before vanishing show silence. Complete silence. There’s no viable explanation yet.”

“Yet,” Mr. Stark looked at Happy with a mischievous smirk. “That is precisely why I have brought you here Mr. Parker. You have a scientific mind. Reminds me of me. Don’t you think, Happy? Don’t answer that.”

“Okay, Mr. Stark but I don’t really see what me suiting up has anything to do with-“ “Let me finish, Pete. Can I call you Pete?”

“I guess so.”

“You’re suited up because we are headed to an area in the Atlantic Ocean that I suspect is where these ships are going missing.

Peter furrowed his eyebrows, concerned, “Isn’t that sort of…dangerous?”

“Not if we take a plane. I have some good ones as well. I’m not guaranteeing we’ll find anything, but it’s worth a shot, and a sample of the water. Maybe a giant octopus. We might be there for a while, sitting. Observing. Science,” Mr. Stark brushed away the holograms and threw a pen behind his ear.

“Science…” Peter couldn’t put a finger on how to respond. The fact that of all the people he could have called (which was probably a lot), he called Peter. It was validation he hadn’t felt since Mr. Stark returned the Spider-Man suit to him. Mr. Stark trusted Peter with a top secret and delicate mission, and that was remarkable.

“You do like science, don’t you?”

Peter snapped out of his shock, “Right! Yes, Mr. Stark, I do. This-this is right up my alley.”

Mr. Stark smirked again, “Good. Follow me to the aircraft. I have everything we could possibly need, so all you have to bring is your person.”

Peter waited while Mr. Stark gathered things, various papers that he shoved into a briefcase. He turned around expecting to find Happy, but all he saw was his back walking away down the long hallway and into the elevator. When he turned back, Mr. Stark was already on his way, Peter needing to jog to catch up with him.

The first time Peter flew on an airplane he was headed to Germany to fight Captain America. The second time Peter flew on an airplane, he wasn’t on the inside of it, he was on the outside. This was the third time Peter had flown on an airplane, and it wasn’t even that. The jet looked like every single Stark Jet he had seen on TV. He never thought he would see one in person, nonetheless ride on one. Stepping on it felt completely out of reality. As they approached the cockpit, Mr. Stark gestured for him to put his mask on, which he did promptly. A pilot and a co-pilot sat in their respective seats, preparing for takeoff.

“Don’t worry, Spider-Man, they know that this is a top-secret mission. They’re sworn to secrecy. Right boys?”

The two women flying the plane looked unamused by Mr. Stark’s obvious sarcasm. They turned to Peter, looking at him nonchalantly.

“Taking a break from protecting Queens, Spidey?” the Pilot’s black hair was pulled into a tight bun. It hardly bothered her that Queens’ crime-fighting hero was in her midst. Not that Peter chalked himself up to that, but generally people had to take a moment and confirm that what they were seeing was actually Spider-Man.

“I-I guess yeah.”

The pilot looked confused, “Why does he sound like he’s 12?”

“I-“

“AND that’s our cue to leave. Thank you, Ms. Tran, your endless services to my company are continuously appreciated,” Mr. Stark took Peter by the shoulders and guided him away from the cockpit and into the main cabin. He sat in a seat, anxiety starting to creep into the back of his throat. He knew that Mr. Stark would never purposefully put him in danger, but he couldn’t help but explore the idea that what was causing the disappearances could cause a jet to go missing as well.

The plane rumbled, shook, and hovered above the ground and into the air. The jet moved faster but was more stable than a standard passenger cabin. The latest in Stark technology would probably make a five-hour trip less than 30 minutes.

“We’ll be there before you know it,” Mr. Stark was reading something on his phone. “I don’t know exactly what we’re looking for, kid, but I have a feeling we’ll know it when we see it. We’re essentially doing a stakeout.”

Observational science had provided plenty of breakthroughs but sounded incredibly boring. As Peter listened to Tony’s plan to watch and record every half hour, he secretly dreaded what was to come, unsure of how this could possibly get interesting. They were going to be there until midnight, when if they didn’t find anything they would return to the complex for the night. It was 4 P.M., and this was about to be the longest six to seven hours of Peter’s life.

They came to a stop, and Mr. Stark moved to the side Peter was sitting on, opening a window that covered the length of the jet. It provided a complete view. He opened the other identical window on the left side.

“Are you willing to sit on top of the jet, kid? I have equipment you can set up there, and an emergency button in case something dangerous happens,” Mr. Stark rolled in a cart. A laptop was mounted on a device designed to stick to the plane, as well as a desktop with notebooks, pens, highlighters, anything he might need to effectively record data.

“Y-yeah I think so.” “Good. You’ll do good, Parker. Let’s get you set up.”

The pair worked together to set up Peter’s station, lots of crawling and webbing to keep them stable. When Peter was finally comfortable, they exchanged some thumbs up, and Peter set to work. He opened the laptop and started the notes that Mr. Stark had carefully instructed him on how to take.

Hour .5, 4:33PM, water remains still save for the natural oscillation of waves. Fortunately, nothing seems out of the ordinary. Weather is clear, a couple clouds here and there. It would really suck for me if it started raining. That’s beside the point. If there’s any variation I will record, but for now, I will return to watching the sea.

And that was that.

He didn’t have much to do unless something drastically changed, so he rolled up his mask to just above his nose and inhaled, the clean, unpolluted air utterly refreshing. He asked Karen to notify him of any variations of his surroundings, then laid out onto his back, eyes glossily transfixed on the pure blue sky.

“Karen, can you play that song…that one sea shanty…it’s really creepy and stuff.”

Peter, I’m not entirely sure what you’re referring to.

“Oh come on…the first line is like, ‘My heart is kissed by Cupid’ or something like that.”

Now playing Jolly Sailor Bold

“Yeah.”

My heart is pierced by Cupid.

I disdain all glitter and gold.

For nothing can console me,

but my jolly sailor bold.

Peter pictured himself on the sea, a pirate. He had always enjoyed the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, even though he was conflicted by the fact that these men were traditionally violent, raping criminals. Plus, Johnny Depp was now everything that he didn’t want to be. He eliminated pirate from his head and changed the image to a sailor. A white, linen shirt, damp and windswept hair, leaning off the side of a ship as it plowed through the ocean. It was an interesting fiction.

Hour 4. 8:02PM. Over halfway there. The sun is barely starting to set. It’s getting cloudier, and the ocean is just as calm as it was when I first started. A couple of birds have landed on the surface and have floated for a few moments, and nothing seems to be causing them to vanish as mentioned in hour 2.5. Other than that, no changes.

It was getting painfully boring, but Peter persisted. Every so often Mr. Stark would check in on him, they would compare notes and then go back to it. Dinner was at 6, but the pangs of hunger had come out of nowhere an hour ago. Peter shifted to a position onto his stomach, grateful for the fact that he was sticky and would never fall off. His eyes drooped, tempting him to close them and take a nap, but he was almost there, and he knew that Mr. Stark would appreciate his efforts.

His sailor imagery reappeared in his mind, but something about the picture was clearer. It sat behind his eyes like a movie. On the banks of an island, a mermaid brought him, battered from a shipwreck to shore. It wasn’t anything from a Disney movie; scrapes and bruises scattered his body, and his left eye was swollen shut. The mermaid hoisted him onto land, her gentle hand lightly cupping his face. She cried heavy tears, sobs erupting from her chest over and over.

Peter tried to look closer, knowing that he was certainly not asleep. The harder he looked, the less that the sailor looked like him. Startled, he opened his eyes, wondering why and how his imagination had taken him to that place.

Come all you pretty fair maids

Whoever you may be

Who love a jolly sailor

That plows the raging sea

He was about to record hour 4.5 when Karen notified him of a change on the surface of the water.

This isn’t like the other ones, Peter. This came from underneath rather than above. I’ll zoom in on it for you.

Karen did so, and Peter squinted under the mask to try and find what she had been referring to. She was right, there was a ripple that was growing and expanding until a figure emerged, and Peter had no idea what to think.

“Peter, are you seeing this?” Mr. Stark said in his ears.

“Yeah, Mr. Stark I am…”

He had planned on saying more, but what he saw in front of his own eyes took over. The figure looked human initially, but the more it revealed itself. . .herself. . .he saw that she was unlike anything he had seen before.

When she floated on her back, she confessed her true identity.

“Is that…”

Mr. Stark finished Peter’s thought, “A mermaid. Don’t be so surprised, Spider-Man, a majority of the sea is undiscovered.”

A mermaid. Not too unlike the mermaid he had imagined just moments before.

“But here…now…”

“I know.” An unfamiliar urge pulsated in Peter’s chest, calling him to investigate, “I’m going to go interact with her.”

“I’ll be watching. Be safe.”

Cautiously, above the misty water, Peter lowered himself down to the figure, suspending himself upside-down. He gave Mr. Stark a glance on his way down, still completely unsure of what could happen. The creature looked like nothing he had ever seen before. Long, blonde hair surrounded her head like a crown, and instead of legs, a flesh-colored tail that resembled every mermaid fairytale he had read as a small child. He hovered a few inches above the water, not wanting to disturb her. If she was sleeping, it had to be soundly, but it was very possible that she just had kept her eyes closed to fool them.

When they fluttered open, it startled Peter who almost lost his grip on the web. He placed another hand on it to stabilize himself, and when he looked back down, she was staring at him in the eyes, her wet hair pushed back out of her face. The eyes he looked into were a piercing silver, a color that no human was naturally born with. Then again, there was no way that this being was human. He lowered himself another inch to get a better look, but she quickly set her hand on his mask-covered forehead.

She shook her head but didn’t speak. In the depths of his mind, he felt a thought inexplicably emerge that wasn’t his own. Do not touch the water unless you seek to be greeted with death.

He could hardly focus as a longing feeling ached in his chest. He wanted to dive into the water with her and never return to the surface, the only thing preventing him from doing so was the hand on his forehead, a plea to follow her simple instructions. Reality felt distant, and he couldn’t determine where he was and what he was doing. Her face convulsed into a grimace, and a tear rolled down her face as she opened her mouth and began to sing. The fog that had already began to form thickened, and the question of reality died, transforming into a desire to be with this newfound woman for all of eternity. He had no idea what eternity felt like, but the ethereal angel in front of him did. He felt her peel down his mask, letting his lips brush against the cool, ocean air. Reaching out, he was almost able to make contact with her skin; she was barely out of reach.

It all came to a violent and jarring halt as he was ripped from the haze he had free fell into.

“Peter, can you hear me now? Pete? Kid?”

“Wha- what yeah. Yeah. I can. What’s going on, Mr. Stark?” he did everything he could to sound as nonchalant as possible, but he sounded like he had just awoken from an all day nap.

“We lost you for a sec,” Mr. Stark sounded frantic, “Quick, web that thing and bring it onto the ship. I’m ready to get out of here.”

M A S T E R L IS T

CLICK HERE TO BE ADDED TO SERIES TAGLIST

T A G L I S T

@tinkeringtony @plushparker @spideyboipete @darlintom @vinndetta @starksmile @rainbow-marvel @pumpkinsandparker @upsidedownparker @m4shtyx @quietgeekygirl @bigunknownpolice @butwhyduh @shamelessbookaddict @spiderlingsweb @mendes-vuitton @roses-hxlland @sectumsempra-beaches @tomsfireheart @pbnjparker @saturn-aka-six @tomhiddleston-is-myboo @nasa-parker @starksparker @ohhparker @lovelyh0lland @blushypeter @spxcxrrxid @starkravingparker

378 notes · View notes

cancerianprincess · 5 years

Text

“Birkin Bag” (7)

|Part Six|

Summary: Erik finds out he might’ve rubbed off on his best friend a tad too much and that she’s really with the shits

Warning: Language, Angst, Blood Mention(s), Violence

A/N: This shit gets a little gory at the end so *BEWARE*

~~~~

“I bought my bitch a Birkin Bag so she could hold my fucking strap..”

____

Even from the entryway, you could see Trey’s body begin to tremble at the sound of your voice. Stepping into what was now your evil lair, you signaled for Erik to follow, silently mouthing for him to follow your lead as the plan was set into motion.

“What up, pussy! Miss me?” You twisted your hips going further into the room as your voiced gradually darkened, “Or at least pretend to? Because, you know, that’s what you seem to do best, apparently.”

His eyes practically gouged out of his head, speaking a mix of fury and panic that his gagged mouth currently couldn’t. Still though, Trey loudly muffled out something incoherent through the white rag against his lips. “Mmphmfm!”

“What?” You snatched the cloth away from his mouth. “Don’t nobody know what you saying, speak English.”

“-AID LET ME GO, YOU STUPID ASS BITCH ‘FORE I K-”

But the empty threat was cut short when your left backhand thwacked across the side of Trey’s face.

“Wrong answer, bitch.” You immediately tied the bandana back around while Erik blatantly snickered under his breath in the background. Peering deviously over your shoulder at the source of the laughter you asked, “Oh you think that’s funny? You shoulda been here for the beat down me, Rodney, and Ray Ray gave this nigga. Ain’t that right?”

Trey did nothing but blink at you furiously, beads of sweat making his forehead glisten.

“I mean, then again, it was only fair. What, with all the trouble you put me and my friend Mr. Stevens over here through.” At this point you had begun circling around your victim like a vulture painstakingly slow. “But seeing as to how you made me spend weeks searching for yo’ ass, some of those injuries were thrown in as...compound interest.”

And plenty of contusions there were. It was only right you gave back every scrape, cut, and bruise that horrible trio had given to Erik when they had him tied up here a month ago. The swollen eye, busted lip, and endless trails of blood falling from various places were evident of that.

“You didn’t make it easy for me, though, Stokely, I’ll give you that.” The false praise fell from your lips in a chuckle, half sarcastic, half genuine.

“Wait,” Erik interjected, being pulled from the trance of watching you playing with your food. “Stokely...why does that name sound so familiar?”

The wicked grin that’d been playing at your lips, per waving one of your knives dangerously close to your captive’s face, officially broke free at the ex mercenary’s speculation.

“Probably because it’s the name attached to the warehouse where this urchin and his cronies held you, i.e. the one we’re currently standing in.”

Erik nodded in acknowledgement, but his furrowed brow gave away that wasn’t the lightbulb he was looking for.

“Or maybe because it was part of the signature on the baby’s death certificate, when it supposedly should’ve been ‘Stevens’.”

Ah, there it was.

“Come again?” Though Erik had managed to keep his relatively cool demeanor, it was still evident that the piece of news had thrown him for a loop. He continued blinking repeatedly at you as if it would change what he heard. “What do you mean ‘supposedly’?”

“You were right about Lynda being pregnant when you shot her; the ultrasound they showed you was proof of that,” you remarked. “But that didn’t necessarily mean she was carrying your baby. Isn’t that right, Trey?” Both Erik and Trey’s head perked up simultaneously, and when the latter began shaking like a stripper, Erik’s wild eyes bore straight into him while speaking directly to you. “Go on.”

You knew the royal to be no dummy, at least when it mattered that is, but you could also tell he wanted to be sure of what you were getting at as well.

“It seems as though Lynda was trying to have her cake and eat it, too. She wanted herself a piece of the legendary ‘Erik Stevens’ just like every other girl at MIT, but once she got it, she just couldn’t seem to let go of her high school sweetheart over there.”

“So what you’re saying is that-”

“Trey was really the one who got the girl pregnant and not you?” You picked up the rest of his sentence, sparing him of having to finish it. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Why else do you think Little Miss Lynda was holding out on you all that time and then magically wanted to jump your bones? She wasn’t about miss out on securing that bag for her family,” you disclosed, whipping your gaze back to Trey trembling in his chair. You were confused when his eyes nearly popped out of his head. Until you felt Erik remove the pistol from your hand while breezing past you.

“Erik, wait, I wasn’t done ex-”

“Hold that thought.”

The former shell of Killmonger marched straight up to Trey and planted a bullet right in his left kneecap, forcing the loudest stifled shriek in all existence to sound through the room.

“That’s for making me think I murdered my unborn child.”

The combination of his act and words sent a tremble down your own spine, regardless of you both being on the same team, but it also put a twinkle of admiration in your eye, and strangely a spark of desire below your stomach. Luckily, Erik had only discovered one of the two as he went back to address you.

“What? Auntie said no more ‘murderous rampages’ so better to put a bullet there than through his brain,” Erik shrugged, followed by a right hook to Trey’s jaw to shut him up. “Now,” he breathed, dimple chasing the dark aura away quickly as it’d come. “You were saying?”

“I was saying,” you deadpanned, pinching the bridge of your nose at his block-headed ass. “That my head was spinning a million miles a minute after all the shit went down that night, so I started breaking it all down, play by play. And that’s when it hit me.”

Erik only blinked in anticipation.

“Remember everything I told you on the drive over? And what Tracee said about Trey not really ‘loving me’? Well she was right.”

Trey’s cries cut through the room, once again, just as fast as your knife landed deep in his bicep.

“Not that I wanted that weak ass shit from you anyway,” you spit, squinting at him in fury. You wanted to do much more than that, but your best friend’s pulled you back into focus.

“Relax, baby girl,” Erik cooed, sensing the flare of your bloodlust. “I’m still in need of some clarification here.”

You inhaled a deep breath upon realizing that he was right. Killing Trey could wait just a few more moments so you dove back in, picking up where you left off.

“Right. It made sense as to why Tracee and Jay wanted revenge against you; they were Lynda’s older sister and best friend. But recalling Tracee’s little slip up, it was only a matter of time before I put two and two together about those conniving little love birds. Though I don’t really think that’s my secret to tell, now is it?”

Creeping back over to the prisoner, you twisted the blade buried in his muscle while stooping to stare him in the eye.

“You listen here and listen good,” you threatened Trey. “It’s already been decided that you’re definitely not going to leave out of this room alive so unless you want to make dying any more pain than I planned for it to be, I suggest the words spoken in your final hour be nothing but the truth. Got me?”

You snatched the cloth from his mouth a second time once the groans of pain subsided, but kept your grip on the weapon in case the memo hadn’t been fully received.

“Alright, fine,” Trey panted out at last. “Lynda was my ol’ lady, so what?! Had been since we was fourteen. We grew up together-all of us did. Me, her, Tee, and Jay; couldn’t nobody come between us. Until yo pretty boy ass decided you just couldn’t stay away from my girl.”

“Aye, ain’t my fault she wanted to upgrade,” Erik bit back. “She came onto me.”

“Yeah, but the grass ain’t always greener, is it?. Sure she was feeling you for a quick lil’ minute, but ‘breaks’ don’t always mean ‘break-ups’.”

A grimey smirk formed at Trey’s mouth, beginning to feel himself courtesy of the sense of pride budding in his chest. “Me and her was going at it cause all she wanted to do was be on her Tomb Raider shit, but it wasn’t long before she was back to calling me ‘Daddy’-AGHHH!”

His spiel was interrupted by the curve of your wrist, bringing about more pain and blood from the wound.

“I don’t think I said anything about adding your irrelevant and grotesque commentary,” you sneered from behind him. “Keep going, and be sure to stick to script, please and thanks.”

Trey scowled and sighed in frustration, but did as he was told and continued telling on himself.

“It had been some months since me and Lynn had spoken since that particular falling out, so I suppose that’s when she starting kicking in with you in the meantime,” Trey concluded, the disgust evident in his voice. “But then I hit her up one weekend, told her I was coming that way to work shit out and wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. We talked about a lot that night, and needless to say some shit went down when we met up.”

With every new piece of information Trey dished out, you stole a glance at your homeboy to see how he was processing it all. He was simply shaking his head and casting an ironic grin that flashed his gold fronts. “Breezy always said these hoes ain’t loyal,” he recited, quoting the well known R&B hit.

“Anyway,” the deviant mocha man went on, rolling his eyes. “Lynda and I kept in touch on the low after that, but a few weeks later she sent me a text saying she was positive she was pregnant. At first she was panicking, worrying about your reaction and how it might throw a wrench in the scheme y’all had going with that Klaue dude, especially y’all hadn’t slept together yet.”

“And lemme guess,” Erik cut it. “That’s when you told her to try and start hopping all on my dick?”

Trey clapped back harshly, trying to establish his dominance for whatever reason. “You damn skippy I did! She told me about your master plan for heading to Wakanda, so I told her to stick it out, act like everything was still normal. The second you took over she was gonna tell you about the pregnancy; play the whole ‘heir to the throne’ card. Wasn’t no point in missing out all the wealth one measly little job had to offer.”

It was your turn to finally speak up now. “Yeah, and how well did that work out for y’all Jokey and Harley wannabe headasses?”

Obviously Trey didn’t take a liking whatsoever to your taunting, so he began to go off when you rounded out to face him again. “REAL FUCKING WELL UNTIL YOUR BITCH ASS BOYFRIEND PUT A BULLET IN MY GIRL’S CHEST!!! Me and Lynn coulda had it all made, but HE took it away when he murdered her. So when that king announced the start of all their outreach shit with him overseeing it all,” his voice growing colder, tears in the brim of his eyes, “I knew that was my chance. It took months of plotting, and waiting, but once Stevens was back in town, it was only a matter of time till he learned who I was.”

The hurt that was apparent in his face almost made you feel sorry for him. Though you didn’t find his actions anywhere near justifiable, this was the first time you realized how big of a loss it was for him to lose the love of his life, and child, so tragically.

“And now that Lynda’s gone, and this whole thing caved in on your head, you don’t have anything left to show for it. Do you?”

Trey drew in a sharp breath attempting to draw back the water beading in his eyes, erasing the agony that had threatened to break free. “Maybe not,” he begun maniacally. “But at least I got to dig in them guts for a while to keep you away from golden boy over there, hm sweet cheeks?”

“Excuse you??”

When those words hit your ears, you felt that familiar snap pop off somewhere deep inside your psyche. How dare this nigga have the audacity to even utter something so ignorant and crude, like you needed a reminder that you’d given him access to such a vulnerable part of yourself. Not knowing if it hit a nerve because you dared to sympathize for him a few seconds ago, or because it was brought to your attention yet again how stupid you felt for being used, it had been the final nail in Trey’s coffin either way.

Erik had been silently watching the exchange all the while, and though highly tempted to yank all of Trey’s teeth out due to the disrespectful comment, he could see he had to reign you in quick, fast, and in a hurry.

“Aniya-”

“Nah, E,” you declared chillingly calm, smiling as your tongue ran along the space between teeth and gums. “It’s all good.”

Your fingers flexed tightly around the grip of your gun, and with one lighting fast motion, you were knocking directly into the middle of Trey’s face before any of you really knew it.

“BECAUSE THAT’S FOR THE RUDE ASS SHIT THAT JUST CAME OUT YOUR MOUTH!”

“THAT’S FOR USING ME AND MAKING ME LOOK DUMB!”

“THIS ONE WAS FOR PIMPING OUT YOUR OWN GIRLFRIEND LIKE SHE WASN’T WORTH A DAMN!

“THAT ONE WAS FOR PLOTTING AGAINST MY BEST FUCKING FRIEND!”

“AND THAT WAS FOR TRYING TO TAKE HIM AWAY FOR ME AFTER I ALMOST LOST HIM ONCE ALREADY!”

The hits just came rolling in, one after another and another, driven by all the rage and pent up emotion you had been harboring for entirely too long. Truth be told if it wasn’t for Erik overpowering the now bloody weapon from your hand, you probably would’ve kept at it until who knows when. Fortunately though, he restrained you from behind, stopping you in the midst of your last swing.

“Hey-look, hey, shh. I gotchu now, hey, it’s all good, I’m here.” He steadily swayed the two of you back and forth until he felt you drift somewhat back to reality. It took a minute, your eyes glued Trey’s now disfigured, and lifeless, head that was bashed in and bludgeoned in all sorts of places. You took a moment or two more to calm yourself, feeling the warmth of fresh blood splattered across your face and clothes.

Erik let go once he felt you beginning to uncurl from underneath him. He knew for a fact that you didn’t mind getting your hands dirty, but still awaited your next direction, aware you were still reeling from the deed you’d just committed. Back erect once more and shoulders squared evenly, you instructed your sidekick of the next move without turning around one inch.

“Help me get him and the rest of this junk down to the basement,” you enunciated with a robotic like tone. “There’s an incinerator we passed on the way in.”

~~~~

~Taglist~

@iamrheaspeaks @princesskillmonger @chaneajoyyy @eriknutinthispoosy @wheredidallthedreamersgo @sonofnjobu @bidibidibombaclaat @turn-thy-paige @theunsweetenedtruth @madamslayyy @mareethequeen @marvelpotterlove @ayellepea @another-imaginesblog @okoyesbabe @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @muse-of-mbaku @purple-apricots @tiava143 @youreadthatright @erikslulbaby @eriks-girl @youwishiwasyobabymama @halcyonscry @wakandas-vibranium @wakandanblogger @wakandamama @laketaj24 @bartierbakarimobisson @killmoncoochie @amethyst1993 @jasmindaughteroftheworld @dramaqueenamby @hoopshoney @pocmarvelworks @uhlxis @killmongersaidheyauntie @fonville-designs

#cancerianprincess #birkin bag #erik x aniya #erik x black oc #erik x black reader #u guessed it #redeemed!erik #black panther imagines #erik killmonger

86 notes · View notes

every1studio · 6 years

Text

“not enough for him” [stray kids: minho]

genre: angst with slight fluff

ficstyle: bulletpoints

prompt: “you don’t have anything in common with him... does it even matter if you like him or not?”

note: inspired by 15&’s Jimin’s song, “TO HIM”

“is it even worth liking someone like him?” you’d mumble to yourself as you saw him walking into your classroom

“hey Minho! did you hear that new song from-”

the conversation your classmate Suzy was having with Minho made you zone out

you knew...

out of everybody in the class, he’d never notice someone like you

Suzy on the other hand?

she was pretty, smart, and loved by everyone

she liked everything Minho liked

you?

can’t you just like someone.. just because you like them?

Suzy wasn’t your best friend but you guys were close enough to call each other “friends”

anyways, your class had a partner project to do and your teacher assigned you with Minho

which would’ve made feel all giddy and happy inside

but you had a gut feeling that this wouldn’t make Minho fall for you just because you were his partner

you met with him at a pretty popular an overly crowded coffee shop

you preferred to be somewhere more quiet but he recommended it

“you’re.... y/n right? sorry I don’t talk to you in class often...” Minho smiles apologetically as he ruffles the hair on the back of his head

which made your heart tug, “no. it’s okay”

“you want me to get you a latte or a caramel macchiato or something?” he asks after he orders his berry latte

“an iced americano is fine-”

“wow an americano? you like bitter drinks? I honestly can’t handle them.. I like my sugar..”

you both went back to your table as he goes on and on about some hip hop artists, “you listen to them?”

you slowly shook your head, “I’ve never heard of them..”

Minho sinks in his seat, shocked, “wow.. you must be living under a rock.. anyways lets get this project started..”

to hide yourself away from him, you focused whole-heartedly on the project

“order for Minho?”

you looked up, “I’ll get it”

but he gets up first as he pats your hand, “it’s okay, I got it!”

(stop being so gentlemanly.. it’s bad for my heart) your heart was beating like crazy

when he comes back and hands you your drink, you flinched at the touch of his hand that your drink spilled on you

“oh shit I’m so sorry!!” Minho gathers napkins for you

embarrassed, you shook your head; brave enough to look up at him

“d-don’t worry about it...”

you couldn’t help but stare at the stain on your shirt

then you saw Minho hand his flannel over to you, “go change into this before the stain settles”

the little things like these got your hopes up

maybe, just maybe

he cares about you

he’ll care about you

you went to the bathroom to change and washed out the stain

it definitely looked like you were wearing a boyfriend’s clothes

when you went back to the table, your smile dropped

you saw Suzy with Minho; both of them we’re laughing as she swipes cream onto his lips

you were about to turn around to hide back in the bathroom when Minho called out to you

“oh y/n!” he smiles as he waves at you

you shuffled back to your table

Suzy hugged you and Minho, “see you guys at school, I’ll text you Minho!”

he smiles and nods at her as she leaves the cafe

...

without another word, you just continued to work

“what a coincidence huh? Suzy showing up out of nowhere..”

you tried real hard to give him a genuine smile

“you’re interested in her?”

Minho got pink; hiding his smile with his hand

“is it obvious?”

you’d be lying if you said that you were happy for him

“I’m happy for you... it seems like.. she likes you too,” you bit the sides of your cheek to refrain from bursting into tears

FLASHBACK

you were getting uncomfortable with some guy on the bus on your way home from your part-time job at a quiet cafe

the guy was standing behind you; grabbing at your waist

he was slowly making his way down as you squeezed your eyes shut

you felt someone walk in between you and the guy behind you

“get your hands off of her, you creep,” with that the guy got off the next stop

when you turned around, you saw Minho standing guard behind you

“are you okay?”

you just started to tear up; you were so scared

you covered your face because you didn’t want a stranger from your school to see you cry

you felt him pull you into your arms, “you’re okay.. you’re gonna be okay..”

since that day, you saw him often..

you both acknowledged each other

every word he said to you was crafted with care

but to him, you were just someone who fell in love with his kindness

BACK TO REALITY

you felt like you were about to burst into tears

so you started to pack up your things

“I-I have to go now.. I have to go to work...” you lied but it was better than feeling like you could never ever have a chance with someone you liked for so long

“you wanna finish this up tomorrow then? same place and time?” Minho just smiled; unaware of your feelings

“you know, I’m gonna be busy so you can just finish your part and I’ll finish mine.. we can just put it together before we turn it in...”

you left immediately after saying that; you didn’t want to stay any longer

Minho just sat there confused; was it something he said?

you went home

THE NEXT DAY AT SCHOOL

you overheard that Minho was going to confess to Suzy later that day

at this point, you didn’t even want to do the project with Minho

you felt someone tap your shoulder

Minho sat in the chair behind you, “hey, how’s the project coming along?”

“good”

you didn’t want to talk with him

what was the point in trying to talk to your crush if your heart was just going to be shattered?

not that it already is.. but it your heart was already taken out and fed to the vultures

“yeah so um... you-you’re close to Suzy right?”

you scoffed at him; the only way to have him to stop talking to you.. is to push him away

as far and as hard as you could

“no.. I’m not.. and I’m not particularly close to you either..”

Minho was shocked by your words; he has always known you as a soft-spoken girl

you picked up your things and gave him a side glance, “you don’t need me to help you with Suzy... you guys are practically made for each other..”

you had work that day after school

you were a robot most of time you were working

until Minho walked into the cafe with Suzy

why would they come into a small and quiet cafe like this one?

out of all the cafes, why this one?

you turned around and made yourself look busy so that your other co-worker could deal with them

when you turned back around, you saw that the both of them had the same thing

the light pink shade of the drink and the whipped foam on top was none other than the overly-sweetened berry latte

there was never a chance liking someone you didn’t have anything in common with

all of those heart shaking moments...

all of those flushed cheeks..

all of those times you thought you had a chance with him?

those were just a waste of your time and your feelings

“maybe I’m just not enough for him...” you monologue as you sipped on your bitter and black, iced americano

END + [masterlist + guidelines]

#yenni writes #yenni posts #stray kids #stray kidz #stray kids x reader #stray kids lee minho #stray kids lee know #stray kids lee know scenario #stray kids minho #stray kids minho scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids writing #stray kids imagines #lee minho #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #kpop angst

247 notes · View notes

guessimjoiningthespidermanfandom · 3 years

Text

Hell and Back Pt.1

Peter Parker x bisexual!reader

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Peter Parker x black!reader

Peter Parker x villain!reader

Warnings: Language, drug use, mentions of death/the dead, parental neglect, mentions of selling hard drugs, brief mention of drugging, self deprecating thoughts, near death.

Word Count: 4.5k

Songs: Trouble Dont Last Always- Rev Timothy Wright, Violent- carolesdaughter, Feel Better- Penelope Scott, Kids- Current Joys, Never (feat. O_super)- Mag.Lo, Weary- Solange, Sleepwalk (Remastered 2010) Santo & Johnny, Dark Red- Steve Lacy, Glitter- 070 Shake.

“‘I wish I could be a religious person. They always seem so happy and carefree. To be able to put that much trust into something or someone. I know you were never religious but your family was. My family isn’t really all that religious but they did always feel like prayer could solve all. I’d been praying my whole life and not one had ever been answered. All my family is a bunch of hypocrites and sinners, but hey hate the sin not the sinner right? Ha yeah right.”

A/N: The part two of this chapter should be out soon and there was only two proof reads sorry for any mistakes.

Series Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

October 13th

‘Dear Rose, This is stupid, this shit is for white people. Wait let me try again.’

I ripped the paper in half. I was trying to do that thing where you write letters to dead people to help you get over their deaths or whatever. I never had a diary and I felt stupid doing this in the first place so it was definitely hard.

I was sitting in one of the queen-sized beds of the hotel room with an empty college-ruled notebook. I heard Bri and MJ go down to get breakfast, but I pretended to be asleep, I wasn’t hungry.

I’d already ripped three pages out but, I was going to do this, I started it and I wasn’t gonna back out now.

‘So I don’t really know why I’m doing this but I miss you, like a lot. I cried last night. For like the first in at least 6 months. I don’t know why I felt that was important, but it was relieving. I’m in the fanciest hotel I’ve ever stayed (legally) at right now. You’d like it. It's just a Marriott but it’s pretty big. I don’t know if I believe in heaven (or a God even), but I truly hope you’re there right now. I know I’m probably not going if it is real. If it is I know you and my mom and everyone else is there and I just don’t want earth to be the last time I saw y’all. I just feel ungrateful because I’m not happy. I’m not happy to be where I am right now. I know I’m better off than almost everyone else in Melrose but I didn’t earn my spot. I lied and cheated my way to where I am.

I remember that one argument we had. The biggest one back when you first started selling. I had the audacity to get mad at you for just trying to provide for your family. Then became everything I despised. I was trying to look back on the “good days”. Which was depressing because looking back at what we thought were goods days were just days that weren’t terrible.

At least when you were selling you never lost yourself. I don’t even know who I am anymore. I just feel burnt out.

Yesterday me and Bri were fooling around in the hotel which was fun so I guess that’s good. I’m tryna stick to the positives of my day. Another good thing was that I found one of Jay’s hoodies in my bag . It’s pretty comfortable. I miss him too. I’m trying not to think about all the people I’ve lost because that list could go on for eternity. I might do this again, I don’t know it doesn’t feel so stupid anymore. I’m burning this note though. I know you always said no one lives forever but why’d you have to go so soon, the good ones always do. If there’s truly life after death tell my mom I love her for me and I love you too.

Sincerely Y/N,’

October 14th 9:03am

‘I wish I could be a religious person. They always seem so happy and carefree. To be able to put that much trust into something or someone. I know you were never religious but your family was. My family isn’t really all that religious but they did always feel like prayer could solve all. I’d been praying my whole life and not one had ever been answered. All my family is a bunch of hypocrites and sinners, but hey hate the sin not the sinner right? Ha yeah right.

I remember Ms. Williams with that stupid “Shoot for the moon and if you miss at least you’ll be among the stars” poster. It was tacky and we were always making fun of it. I never realized how much it bothered me until now though. I’d say I have selective memory if I have any memories at all, but that poster is seared into my mind. I think it might be because I felt like it was mocking me because she knew goddamn well none of us were making it out this city. Let alone ever getting anywhere near the stars. Now, I was the closest to the stars and out of everyone who could've been here it was me. The person who deserves it the least.

Sincerely Y/N,’

October 14th 8:57pm

‘I think the reason I’m still doing this letter thing is because I don’t wanna stop missing you because missing you was better than feeling nothing. I don’t truly think I do anymore. Which sounds bad, but I just mean I’ve gone through the grieving process which I guess means, it’s time to let you go. I’ve never actually gone through a full grieving process without someone else dying in the middle of it. I read this thing once about people having favorite people or a favorite person and I think that was you for me. It means you basically can’t function without that person and when they're not around it makes your emotions go crazy. I don’t really want to say goodbye cause I miss the feeling of you in my life, but when it comes down to it I don’t remember it much. So I guess this is the final goodbye.

Love Y/N, ’

I was getting really fucking tired of Thorn. I was getting tired of Y/N L/N too. Why couldn’t I just exist. I don’t wanna have to be anyone. I just wanna get high and eat fruit snacks damn. but I could never have what I want could I.

I was sitting under some storage containers in a warehouse with all these old white men working on weapons and shit. Waiting for Vulture to come in. He flew into the warehouse I could almost see the anger, radiating off of him before he stepped out of the wings. He looked oddly familiar, if I hadn’t killed off all my brain cells I probably would have made the connection sooner but it got made and that’s all that matters.

The Vulture was Liz’s dad.

This is a fact I could and would be using to my advantage. I pulled out my backup phone and snapped a couple pictures of the people around me as a torn up van pulled up.

A man hopped out and Liz’s dad immediately started yelling at the man about something. He seemed to think it was funny though. Like he was high on adrenaline or something. I caught the words Avengers. Then something about Shocker and getting fired. I’m guessing the Shocker had the same idea as me to tell his family about his business. He picked up the closest weapon and fired it at the man. He instantly crumbled to the floor in ashes. That was nasty as hell.

Now these weapons are wayyyy more dangerous than I thought. He stormed out after bestowing another man the title of Shocker. Then it was only me and the guy working on some weird weapon left. I walked over to him and knocked him out. Taking the anti gravity gun with me and some shiny thing I thought looked cool I placed a tracker with a camera and mic on the Vulture suit before leaving.

That was about two weeks ago. Now, here I was, on the back of the truck of some random company following Vulture around like a lost dog. I should be back at the hotel right now, but I’ve never been known to do what I was supposed to.

He was talking to someone about a plan to steal more fuel for these weapons.

I was hiding behind a dumpster and I accidentally hit something on my way to leave.

I know he saw me.

Fuck.

I didn’t have time to think I was just running and running. I didn’t even realize I was practically hyperventilating until I made it back to the hotel. I didn’t have the key to my room. I must’ve dropped it somewhere.

I dropped it because I’m a dumb fuckup who’s gonna get herself and everyone else killed because I could never do anything right. I’d be better off dead.

I knew Bri and MJ were asleep and I didn’t wanna wake them up. I was sitting by the door trying to keep myself from going into a full blown anxiety attack. I pulled the hood of Jay’s hoodie over my head and pulled my legs up to my chest.

I think I might’ve drifted off for a second because I opened my eyes and Peter was standing over me looking concerned.

“What?” I asked sitting up.

“It’s just,” He brought his hand up to his forehead in confusion “Why are you on the floor? Are you okay?” He asked.

“I’m fine, what are you doing up?”

“I was just walking around,”

That wasn’t a very clear answer. Suspicious.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Your eyes are puffy,”

“I’m fine, probably just allergies,” He hummed like he didn’t believe my answer.

“You can go back to your room now,” I added since he was still standing there staring at me.

“You still never answered my question on why you were sitting out here on the floor,”

I just ignored him and pulled the hood back over my face.

He slid down on the floor next to me.

“I’m not leaving until you answer me,”

I didn’t feel like talking and honestly? I didn’t want him to leave.

I turned to face him before saying

“Looks like you’re gonna be here for a while then,”

I ended up telling him eventually and he offered to let me stay in his room saying Ned wouldn’t mind. I was too tired to decline the offer.

“Y/N,” I was awakened by Peter shaking my shoulder.

“Hmm?” I hummed.

“You gotta get up,”

I rolled my eyes and pulled the throw blanket back over my head. I would have flipped over but I probably would’ve fell off the couch.

“Everyone else is already at breakfast c’mon,”

He pulled the blanket off of me reeling back when he brushed against my skin.

“Y/N, you’re burning up,”

“Mhm hm,” I hummed again turning onto my side.

“I’m being serious Y/N get up,”

“Ugh, fine” I exclaimed sitting up.

“Do you feel sick?” He asked, touching my forehead again.

“I feel fine,” I said pushing his hand away. “Thank you for letting me stay here but, you seriously need to learn to stop being so repetitive,”

I went downstairs where everyone else was eating breakfast and let MJ and Bri know I was okay.

Now it’s really fucking stupid to smoke pre-rolls if you don’t want to be drugged but last night when I was watching out for Vulture someone offered them to me. Perks of pretty privilege I guess. MJ was all of my impulse control and she wasn’t with me so I smoked it.

And when I tell you this shit was strong I mean it was strong. I have a high tolerance when it comes to weed because I smoke a lot but this hit hard. Surprised I wasn’t shaking. Maybe I was.

Normally you don’t get full body highs from smoking. It’s usually edibles that do that but this wow. Couldn’t tell if this was Indica or Sativa. I thought it was Indica at first but I had too much energy for that. Maybe it was a hybrid if so, that’d explain the fog over my brain.

I wasn’t thinking clearly I knew I shouldn’t get any closer to Peter than I already was, but I was bored.

Now we were on top of some middle school jumping the roofs. I'm pretty sure he was only here because he wanted to keep tabs on me since he found me on the verge of a panic attack last night and currently thinks I’m sick.

“Are you sure this is safe?” He asked.

“Yes it’s safe, don’t be a pussy,” I rolled my eyes “Besides I do it all the time,”

“So you go to D.C and jump to different roofs of a middle school all the time?”

“You know what I meant smartass,” I elbowed him lightly and he laughed.

I laid on my back and shortly after he joined me.

“How do they get shirts so soft,”

“What?”

“I said how do they get shirts so soft,” I sat up.

“I don’t know probably lots of thr-”

“C’mon let’s go down there,” I interrupted pointing at the building before hopping down. Running through the mall looking through almost every store I’d spent about $1,000 just shopping for everyone who came to mind. Eventually I walked into Zumiez with Peter trailing behind me. I was looking at the hoodies by the skateboard rack.

“I always wanted a skateboard as a kid,” He said coming up behind me.

“Pick one,” I nodded my head towards the rack of decks. “I’ll get it for you,”

“ I can’t let you do that,” He said.

“No, I insist,” I laughed at my word choice “That’s a fancy word” I laughed and he laughed too “No but for real, pick a deck and I’ll buy it for you,” He shook his head “I’m not leaving until you do,” I turned his words from the earlier night onto him.

“Fine,” he sighed walking back over to the shelf.

After picking the rest of the accessories for the board he said.

“I still have no idea how to ride it,”

And with me still not thinking I said

“Ok then I’ll teach you,”

We headed back out the mall but not before I got a diamond chain because why the hell not. We were about to get on a train to head back until I interjected.

“Wait,” I grabbed his arm. “Come with me,”

“Are you sure this is safe?” He asked as we sat under the bridge that the train runs over.

I laughed at his nervousness.

“I do this all the time and I'm still here, aren’t I? Don’t be a pussy,”

Waiting for the next train coming over I put on a song that's been stuck in my head for a while. Weary by Solange. I didn’t realize I was singing along until he complimented my voice.

“You should sing more often, you have a really nice voice.”

“Shh” I hushed feeling my heats heating up at the compliment. Soon I felt the train coming “Just live,”

I leaned back on my elbows and closed my eyes. I guess this was some form of therapy. The rumbling of the tracks traveled through my body. It would’ve been loud but I’ve picked up the ability to block out noises I don’t want to hear on command. After the train passed the sun was already setting. I figure I might as well get food. This would classify as the first real meal I’ve eaten in awhile. I’ve heard of people not being able to eat unless high which I never thought would or could happen to me. Right next to the restaurant we ate at. There was a 7/11. I’m not sure how many people know this but almost every night shift employee at 7/11 is a plug.

“Can you hold my bags real quick?” I asked.

He nodded so I let him know I’d be back quickly and I had to go to the bathroom

I did not.

The employee I ran into proved my earlier statement.

He had about 10 mg of adderall and some xans. I wasn’t really planning on taking the xans, maybe I’d just sell them. I went back and forth adderall because it’d enhance my brain function instead of actually producing a high. I got two slushies and some other bottled soft

drinks.

I put the key up to the door then slowly opened it. They were on the couch and looked up at me when they heard the door open. If I knew they weren’t gonna be mad at me for just leaving and not telling anyone, I’d actually be happy because Bri was getting along with my friends.

“So where’d you go?” MJ asked.

“I just went out mom,” I replied, sitting on the dresser by the door.

“Well you clearly went shopping,” Bri said.

“Yeah and?” I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry I had a babysitter,” I rolled my eyes again. “You know you can come in right?” I referred to Peter who was still standing by the door.

He moved in, still not moving any farther than the bathroom door. I moved to close the door behind him before sitting on the bed closest to me.

She moved closer to me and looked into my face.

“Are you high right now?” She asked gazing into my eyes.

“Really?” I asked incredulously “No I’m not, and fuck you, now I’m not gonna give you your shit,”

“No! I’m sorry,” She said and I rolled my eyes, a smile cracking onto my face “What’d you get me?” She made grabby hands at the bags.

I handed her the one from Hot Topic.

“There’s a whole buncha stuff in there but…” I reached into the bag and took out the socks with weed plants on them. “These,” I held them up to her. “These are mine,”

“Alright weirdo,” she said looking through the bag. I went to go over to MJ but Bri grabbed my arm.

“Hey where are you getting the money for this?” She asked in a hushed voice.

“Don’t worry about it,” I waved her off.

I got MJ at least 7 books from a series she was reading and Peter said he had to go back to his room.

I was watching a movie on Bri’s phone while MJ started reading her book.

We heard a knock on the door.

I gave Bri a look that said I’ll get it. Then pushed off the bed. It was Liz.

“Hi,”

“Hey,”

“Me and some other kids are going to go down to the pool, so we were wondering if you wanna come?”

“Yeah just gimme a second I’ll be down,”

I ended up convincing Bri to come with me because I didn’t want it to be awkward.

It was nice. The pool I mean. There was a slight breeze and pretty much the whole team was there. Minus MJ, Ned, and Peter.

I didn’t really think about getting my hair wet. People were playing games toward the end of the pool. Bri was halfway in and halfway out on her phone.

I was floating on my back. It was as if I was drifting down a long river with my eyes closed. The breeze over my body pushing me along. There was a heavy weight on my back that had been building since birth, but the water took a hold of that weight for me.

I just lied there on my back floating and breathing.

Things were peaceful at the pool. They however were not back at the room.

I could not sleep. Believe me I tried. I looked through my bag with “everything” I brought. It wasn’t much since I hadn’t been home in a long time. However I did pack that cart I had in class a while back.

I was scrolling through Tiktok and remembered it was still next to me. I made a tiktok to that one audio with the whistles where you ghost the vapors on each whistle because I thought it looked cool and I can do whatever I want on my account.

I don’t know how long it’d be but I finally felt my eyes fall shut for the night.

When I woke up it was weird because I was already at the decathlon. I’d already been working on whatever problem it was that’d we’d gotten, but I didn’t need to because MJ had already gotten us the answer and we’d won.

I should’ve been more excited.

Why wasn’t I excited?

You couldn’t tell I wasn’t as happy as I made myself seem. I had become quite the little actress over the years and by actress I meant liar, I’m really good at lying.

I didn’t realize Peter was missing until we’d gotten on the bus to go to the Washington Monument.

“Hey,” MJ waved her hand in my face “You okay? You’re doing that thing where you scratch your inner arm, and you only do that when somethings on your mind.”

She placed her hand on mine to stop me

“So what’s up?”

“Nothing much like you said just thinking,”

“About?”

“Everything,” I didn’t want to tell her what I was really thinking about because things would get real awkward real quick.

MJ just wouldn't drop it though.

“There’s clearly something bothering you so just tell me what it is you can tell me anything,”

“I just told you,” I sighed.

“Tell me what you’re really thinking about,”

“Death,” I looked at her, who looked back at me, “There, you happy with your answer now?”

“No,” She said and I looked at her knowing it was a look of exasperation. “Who’s death?” She asked.

“Mine,”

“What about your death?”

“Just wondering if it’d be painful,”

“Oh,”

“Yeah,”

When we pulled up Bri was standing by MJ, she didn’t want to go into the tower because of it being built by slaves. I understood that I didn’t really want to go either but my feet were moving on their own accord.

I could’ve fallen asleep right then and there on that elevator. It was if my brain was checking in and out all day.

I might've. I don’t know. The rip off police officer was saying something but it all sounded like gibberish to me.

I closed my eyes and leaned on Liz’s shoulder. She patted my head and went back to whatever she was doing. Then there was an audible snap.

Followed by a jerk of the elevator.

My shot open and I looked up at the ceiling and there was a circle of singed metal.

“We’re all gonna die here,” The kid who I believe's name is Abe claimed.

And for my sake I pretended I didn’t hear him.

Everyone staring up at the ceiling, another student said.

“We’re freaking screwed,”

To think I was just thinking about death less than an hour ago and here I was about to taste the sweet kiss of it.

“I know that was scary, but our safety systems are working,” The police officer said.

Yeah fucking right that’s what they all say. They just didn’t want us to panic but that’s exactly what I was doing. Panicking.

“We are very safe in here,” she added. That's what they say seconds before everyone dies.

The trap door above the elevator opened and everyone began to move again. I could feel the elevator shaking again. No way was I gonna move and risk snapping the cords.

I was gonna die here.

Most of the team had gotten out already. Then it was Flash’s turn and he just had to put the fucking trophy up with the rest of everyone. The elevator fell farther as he got out. I wanted to move but I couldn’t. My brain power wasn’t stronger than my muscles. I couldn’t will them to do what I needed them to.

Something hit the ground above us and the elevator was free falling.

It stopped second after we were launched to the ground then low and behold Spider-man

I swear it was like he was stalking me. I’d be kinda freaked out if I didn’t know he was Peter.

When he spoke it was in a very poor accent.

He was telling Ned not to move because he was shaking the elevator.

He pulled the metal death box up to the doors and Mr. Harrington, Ned, then Liz got out.

Spider-man or “Peter” said something but I couldn’t make out what exactly I was still trying to process everything.

Then the elevator was falling, I reached out towards Spiderman but wasn’t close enough to reach him.

A web caught my arm but I was still hanging.

Until I wasn’t. My feet were planted on the ground but my brain was moving too fast for me to keep up.

“Y/N?” My shoulder was being shaken.

“Yeah huh?” I said trying to locate and place an identity to the voice it was Bri.

“I was asking you if you needed a ride home,”

Oh yeah she didn't know.

“Uh I don’t know maybe,”

“Alright…” She said turning back over to whoever she was talking to this time.

Since I was the one to almost fall they wanted to check me out in one of the ambulances.

Which I do not trust at all.

The whole medical field is a giant scam so is insurance, ask MJ she’ll tell you.

Once we’d gotten back to the school. Everyone’s parents were all freaking out over them and asking if they were okay. Majority of everyone had already left. Peter had his Aunt. MJ had her parents. Ned has his dad. Bri had her dad. Everyone has someone.

Well almost everyone.

Flash was still waiting too. With Mr. Harrington off in the distance.

Then there were two

I moved over and sat down on the curb next to him.

“You got no one either huh?” I asked.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Fair enough. The hostility was understandable. I did punch him in the face less than a week ago.

I kept talking though.

“My dad never picks me up from anything either. “ I didn’t really want him to but he could’ve at least asked while I was still living at that apartment and now he expects me to come back like it’s nothing.

A car pulled up and some random white guy who was probably a chauffeur picked up Flash.

Then there was one

I wanted to go home but I had no home.

I guess I had one home in the cemetery. Everyone I love leaves me. That’s something I learned over the years. It applies to many and the sooner you learn that the easier life will be for you. I hadn’t been back here in the longest. I’d normally just show up and clean the graves of the people who I’d known closely.

This was embarrassing but sometimes I’d talk to my mom. Today was one of those days I sent. I stayed talking to my mom and Rose so much for stopping the letters which I did for way longer than I thought I would.

I was already in my old neighborhood and before I knew it I was at my “house”.

I really didn’t mean to come home. I just did before I could stop myself.

Taglist:

@tomdiddlyumptious

#peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #reader x peter parker #Peter Parker x Vigilante!Reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker x bi!reader #peter parker x bisexual!reader #poc reader x peter parker #peter parker x poc reader #peter parker x thorn #spiderman x villian #thorns prick

24 notes · View notes

tuwam · 5 years

Text

leather.

@belleavie [ x ] badboy!sam x poetrystudent!jamie

‘don’t you think it’s a bit excessive?’

sam takes the moment to pause, eyes falling on his very distressed mother. it’s usual for her she’s always been a high-strung woman. it only makes him smile more as he hops on the motorcycle.

“what’s wrong now mom?” ‘the motorcycle.’ “the piercings, the tattoos, i’ll be fine.”

he’d only just received his license but he’s been riding for the better half of two years. she’s only worried because he’s picked up the habit from his father and she’s afraid it’ll lead to other habits. unlikely. he gives her a fair kiss on the cheek before the helmet is on, secure and he’s revving the engine.

“you’ll miss your flight and I will be fine. I promise.” he bids her goodbye, sparing his step-father but a glance as he pulls off.

sam’s had this conversation with her before. trying to ease her worries, trying to assure her that everything was okay. that everything would be okay. that his decision to move to seoul had nothing to do with finding out about his dad or her new husband. that his decision to move to Seoul and attend university here had been about other things. about discovering things he couldn’t find in california. about getting away from the drunk party life that swallowed all his cousins and almost swallowed him. about getting something new, something refreshing.

he just didn’t think he’d be so spot on about it.

the obvious choice had been seoul u. because of his father’s reputation and his mother’s job back in the states ( to which he had the courtesy to study whatever he wished ). a reputation that earned him a fair share of stares and whispers. but that was korea. whispers, stares, questions about family and fame.

that was also california.

here - at least the flannels weren’t an indication of social status, or instagram feeds. other things were but flannels typically weren’t.

they were the first thing he’d bought when he’d arrived. from some off the wall store where the girls giggled at his accent but also asked if he wanted to be shown around.

his mom had laughed at that one, saying he must’ve inherited his father’s looks and charm.

as sam soon realized that wasn’t all he inherited from his father. the flannel didn’t say money, but it didn’t say ‘i don’t want to be bothered’ and his father’s reputation began to follow him on his journey to find himself in seoul.

it began to follow him in clubs which were unsurprisingly old stomping grounds. clubs where the occasional camera and snapchat would follow him around. not excessively but enough to bring out annoyance in him he hadn’t thought could follow from the states.

it’s one night of running, maneuvering away from a rather persistent girl with rather invasive question that have sam forgetting his flannel in her hands and grabbing the first jacket left on the rack.

in hindsight - this was stealing. moving ahead - he began to commit to the look. leather jacket said money, but leather jacket and a few piercings ( fake or not ) and a neck tattoo did the trick. he planned on getting the tattoo anyway so it was simply a plus. the look on his mother’s face both after she saw it and after he told her the meaning behind it - kodak worthy.

that was summer in seoul before classes started.

when classes began - so did everything else.

the only difference between dealing with the vultures during the summer was that the students had some tact - some focus. minds less clouded and a little more to do with their time than gossip or question him.

for the most part.

the outfit helped and sam soon found it to be an aesthetic. it didn’t fit him exactly but it was simple, monochrome and quick to put together. he wasn’t one for colors and as far as comfortable clothes went, he could slip a turtleneck underneath if he felt inclined. needless to say the leather look kept up, just as the whispers did.

the stories came on their own. with any good college, any bustling college, the rumors were next. some stories that sam himself couldn’t recall if they were true or not. stories that only built up as the months began to drive by. as he began to tell his mother his own set of stories, as he reassured her day after day that she didn’t need to fly down there.

‘did you really slam someone’s head in mashed potatoes?’ “do we even have mashed potatoes here?”

ahyeon - the one person sam thinks makes this journey something worth dealing with. the spice in his otherwise routine college life. he’s managed to keep a low profile and has avoided parties since his first summer here. it’s been about three semesters and she’s one of his stable friends - if stable’s the word for the two of them. he’d asked her if she was trying to strip him naked in a room and she replied that she’d strip the skin off his body if he ever implied that again.

her boyfriend ( who was not in the room at the time ) had laughed.

“it sounds like something you’d do not me.” ahyeon makes a motion to deny it but it’s trapped with joon coming by, the boyfriend who isn’t the boyfriend. ‘i thought it was a bowl of kimchi rice?’ “now I know we have kimchi rice here.” is sam’s only response, watching ahyeon reach to shovel a quarter of his beef onto her plate and another spoonful of rice.

“......are you high?” ‘are you jealous?’

a snort. whether it comes from joon or him, he’s not too pressed. sam’s just glad he’s found something of a routine for the days to pass by with. he finishes morning classes, meets up with them for lunch and tries to be an art student for the second half. committing to the art studios gives him peace and quiet he couldn’t get anywhere else on campus.

apparently, today wasn’t such a day.

[ from: joo joo the fool ] hm. ahyeon might get into a fight. wanna come record?

“no i’m not here to record.” is the first thing sam says when he steps up beside joon. joon who’s busy with a toothpick in his mouth, arms folded and looking entirely unimpressed with the situation. the situation being ahyeon, looking equally as impressed, if a little pissed out at the girl in front of her. the one who looks equally pissed off.

‘why the fuck would I care enough to throw kimchi on your designs. I don’t even know you.’ ‘i could care less about whether you know me or not. you left a note, because obviously you’re not intelligent enough to know to cover your tracks or that your boyfriend’s not that cute that i’d even give him the time of day.’ joon’s laughing and sam thinks he’s grown another head because nothing - nothing was funny about ahyeon looking like she’s about to swing. or the other girl. both were equally as troubling. ‘she’s got it all wrong if she thinks ahyeon would ever do something like that over me.’ but then ahyeon’s laughing too and sam thinks they’re both insane and perfect for each other. ‘you think - i’d sabotage your designs for talking to joon? talk to him I don’t care, free me.’ now sam’s laughing and it might be entirely inappropriate and the look the girl across from ahyeon gives him is all he needs to know.

‘something funny? these designs cost more than your future.’ probably. but sam doesn’t move. joon doesn’t move either.

the person who does move is coming from a bit behind them. a girl a bit shorter, dragging a man who’s much taller.

‘hanna you’ve got it wrong. the note isn’t signed ahyeon - it’s signed ah-neun. seriously you’d think your boyfriend tutoring would help but you apparently can’t read your own language now.’

the girl - hanna - does all but pale at the words boyfriend and the boyfriend who sam is assuming isn’t the boyfriend is just casually standing - looking halfway between amusement and disappointment. or both. sam doesn’t care - he’s worried about dragging ahyeon from this situation without her beating the life out his arm.

“hey ahyeon - let’s go.” he makes a motion to help joon tug her away when the shorter girl, the red-head with a smile so uncharacteristic for the situation, turns around to watch them.

‘sorry about hanna - she gets pretty heated about her designs. they were for her midterms.’ ‘don’t care. just tell her to find the one who did it and beat them - for her designs of course. and tell her boyfriend to tutor her better.’

that sets hanna off in a language sam understands too well and thankfully for both of them joon is tugging ahyeon away with promises of beef and hanna’s not-boyfriend is doing - something. something between soothing, scolding and laughing all in one.

‘thanks for the help.’ brighter-than-the-sun girl says. “didn’t do anything.” is all sam says before he’s following behind.

‘hanna just because they can’t understand you doesn’t mean you can curse!’

hanna’s got a colorful mouth is his first thought when he makes it to the studio.

he paints about more colorful things, and colorful hair in his remaining time.

‘he was cute.’ ‘no no and no.’ ‘you’ve got nerve ordering me around when you can’t read.’ ‘he’s got too much attached to his name, date someone off radar.’ ‘like you with minsoo?’ ‘like someone that i don’t have to fight girls who try to snatch the dye out your hair.’ ‘lucky for you i’m dyeing it again so it’s fine.’ ‘jay,’ ‘what’s so bad about him hanna?’ ‘nothing just - i can’t read him yet.’ ‘good, then let me.’

‘hey, once again really sorry hanna almost caused a fight.’

sam’s busy grabbing a few fruits to tide him over when jamie approaches him in the cafeteria. “okay.” is his response. simply because he’s not sure why she feels the need to apologize, why she even thought she need to. and to him of all people. joon’s the one who’s sad he couldn’t get anything to record. also because - it’s been a while since anyone’s approached him other than ahyeon who usually announces it with a fry launched at his neck. sam doesn’t say that though, instead he shoves the apple and sandwich into his bag.

‘you’re an art major?’ “you’re still here?”

with people like ahyeon and joon as his company, perhaps sam’s forgotten how to be less - candid? it’s also early and he hates being approached when it’s early. but she doesn’t seem to mind, in fact she smiles at that.

that’s new.

‘i don’t have class until another hour.’ “I have class now so - unless you need something?” ‘nothing.’ everything is big even if the words are small, her shrug, her smile.

sam’s walking away with the same thought. she’s still as bright as usual.

‘you’re here late.’ “lost track of time.”

which usually happens when sam’s in the studio, if he’s got a good idea and he’s just going about the canvas, he can stay at it for a while. his mom has often called him to wish him good luck and then called to say good night at the same time. he’s been scolded before but he can’t help it. sometimes he’ll leave and there are still others slaving in there, and sometimes like tonight, he’ll be caught late, paint still drying on his fingertips.

‘busy?’ “headed home.”

the curiosity that she has, he can’t quite match. but he does linger for a bit, he’s learned that she’s not always done when she starts, unless she makes it known.

‘bummer, i had a show tonight but maybe some other time?’ “maybe.”

he leaves without really knowing what she meant by show or really saying goodbye other than a bow of his head and slip of his helmet. she’s still bright, still smiling too, makes him think the night couldn’t really cover it that well.

‘oh - i thought you said you had inspiration?’

sam’s looking at the painting, concern something that isn’t usually on his face - showing today.

“i thought I did - i thought you said you were hanging with joon.” ‘he’s booked right now so i’m not going to bother him.’ “so you’re bothering me.” ‘if i was you would’ve told me.’

true.

also true about the inspiration thing. sam had it earlier, but it’s been fading as of late. fading and making him a little stressed. the inspiration was the main reason for coming here and while he’s been getting good grades on his assignments, he still isn’t feeling much from them. it’s why he’s a little antsy about being visited these days. ahyeon’s right though, if it was a bother she’d know. what he doesn’t know is what he needs to continue this painting. so he packs up again and they head out together.

‘staying late again?’ “thought I’d leave early.” ‘plans?’ ahyeon perks up at that. ‘please, i’ve been trapped in there all day.’ a different curiosity shines when the girl looks from sam to ahyeon, and someone sam knows he’s not getting out of this one.

the cafe is a short walk from the studio building. couldn’t be more than fifteen minutes off-campus, a place that isn’t too familiar, too flashy, or too big. it’s almost surprising that this is where she’s led them. it’s even more surprising when he sees the sign for the event. open mic night.

“you sing?” ‘you’ll see.’

and he does.

he watches, with the same confusion ahyeon has, as people go on and off the stage. he learns, very quickly, that it’s a different kind of open mic. it’s for poets. he’s even more surprised when he hears, kwon jamie, and she’s walking up on stage.

so that’s her name.

they leave that night with a little understanding, of who kwon jamie is. sam with an understanding of how she looks with fingers raised around her, snapping at her performance and stage lights zoned in on her face.

‘well. she was cute.’ “mhm.” ‘she was eyeing you.’ “uh-huh.” ‘sam.’ “hm?” ‘he’s in the zone.’

‘i’m scared to ask if you’ve been sleeping there.’ “almost, i remembered to come out.” ‘how long have you been in there?’ “what time is it?”

a serious question, that deserves a serious answer. all he gets is a look of bewilderment. one that ends with jamie dragging him to the nearest convenience store and pointing at the rather large display of ramyun. the only time sam does stop her, is when she’s pulling out her wallet to pay. sleep-deprived or not, he still has manners.

‘seven hours? painting.’

a nod, because he has a mouthful of noodles and steam rising over his cheeks.

‘are you insane?’ sam looks up, takes in the look on her face, one of fascination and general confusion before he swallows to answer. “you leave your studio the same time as me don’t you?” ‘okay but-’ “we’re both insane then.”

as time drags on, and sam downs two more bowls, jamie gets a glimpse of him sleep-deprived and a little loose-lipped. he gets a glimpse of her, under moonlight but also flickering convenience lights, her neck when she laughs so hard she throws her body back. the roots of her hair when she’s falling forward and he’s insisting it wasn’t that funny but is laughing as well. laughing and noticing things.

“you dyed your hair?” the laughter stops then, jamie composes herself, wipes a few tears before her arms cross. ‘you just noticed?’ and sam doesn’t have a response for that. not really. he just has thoughts, as always. except this time he lets them go. “i liked the orange but - the brown fits. it’s neutral but it lets everything else shine.” it’s uncharacteristic yes, and if he weren’t busy slurping the last bits of the noodles, he might have noticed the look she gives him. instead he’s careful not to get any on his clothes.

“it’s late, i’ll take you home alright?” ‘on the motorcycle-------’ “yes on the motorcycle.”

sam realizes that even if the brown isn’t as bright as the orange, the laughter she lets loose, perched careful and closely against his back as they ride, is just the same. just as satisfying even.

‘it was so much freaking fun.’ ‘i’m glad your motorcycle date didn’t end with you getting a tattoo on your ass.’ ‘hoho - you sound jealous.’ ‘she’s mad I won’t ride on one with her.’ ‘minsoo-yah, you have to indulge the woman.’ ‘that should’ve been with me, whisking you off into the heart of seoul.’ ‘heol, just be happy I had fun please.’ ‘i am happy.’ ‘and no background checks.’ ‘fine.’

‘how are things with the golden girl?’ ahyeon of course is quick to ask. “????” sam is of course, oblivious to everything that isn’t his food or coffee. ‘apparently people saw you give her a ride home last night.’ joon as always, is the translator. ‘and the night before that and the night before that.’

so it’s become a bit of a habit. that he won’t deny. even with ahyeon staring him down so suggestively that he wants to deny it, just to spite her. but it’s become a habit, and sam has no reason to lie about it. so he’s sliding the seat open for the male and regarding ahyeon with another look.

“i didn’t think you cared for gossip.” ‘i have become a fan because of hanna.’ “who?” sam is once again, out the loop. ‘the fashion student.’ joon is always in.

“why does anyone care if I drive her home?” it’s late, it’s not like he’s going to let her go by herself. sure he did it all those other times, but now he knows a bit about her. knows about how long and cold the bus ride to get home is. knows how she might carry protection on her but is still convinced she might not need to use it. knows how she prefers to grab ice cream from the convenience store and ends up staying even later out. sam knows now and does what he can.

that’s all.

‘people are wondering if you guys are dating.’ “people should mind their own business.”

sam’s hoped that for the while he’s started inching from the spotlight the students often like to throw him under - people would stop being so concerned with what he does. but he doesn’t see the problem here, whether he drove jamie home or not is his business. maybe it’s a little too early, and maybe he just needs to finish his coffee before he acts on this general annoyance.

“i’m going to the studio.” and for people who know him, they know that this time he just wants to go alone.

so they let him.

jamie is a different story. she’s only seen him thus far, loose and spent from working in the studio, a place he lets all the weight and frustration fall off in order to focus. when he walks in with such thoughts, he tends to get clogged up in his mind and isn’t productive at all.

‘now I really think you’re planning on sleeping here.’

sam’s on the floor, smudges of paint lining his jacket and dried on his fingertips. he only finger paints and splatters when he’s not feeling too inspired, likes to feel the consistency and really focus on what can come out of nothing, and how it feels to bring it about. abstract painting has it perks sometimes. he doesn’t say anything and yet he’s not surprised that it’s her.

“if i was?” ‘if you were?’ “planning on sleeping here.” despite the paint that’s chipping off his fingers, he slides his hands under his head, contemplating his thoughts. contemplating what he wants to say and how he should say it. contemplating that if he were to look up - would he be able to avoid her gaze. “guess someone else would have to drive you.” ‘guess we’d have a sleepover.’

and somehow, sam’s not surprised at all. when she takes a seat beside him. when she doesn’t stare at the tattoos lining his arms when his jacket’s off, and when she doesn’t deny the offer to sit atop it. he’s not surprised that he’s not bothered by the humming, or the occasional movement around him while he paints. not surprised that jamie’s sunshine seems to reach over all.

or when pieces of the canvas turn yellow.

‘what is it?’ he’s packing when she asks. “not sure yet.” he’s smiling when he answers.

smiling as she scowls his way, something different from the way people watch his movements, eyeing the tattoos and the piercings alike. something playful, like pink on her cheeks when they’re headed out to his bike. like wisps of her hair that flow past, and laughter that echoes each time he tells her to hold tight and they drive off. like a painting suddenly unfolding on it’s own.

sam doesn’t realize it at first. as the colors on the canvas start to change. as he pulls it out and shoves it back in corners, letting inspiration come every now and then. unconcerned about how it comes, when it comes, or the things that prompt it. unconcerned about how he’s starting to have a color for the little things she does. how she’s got a way of finding out about the little things he does.

how she’s managed to tackle his morning personality. how she’d laughed when he ignored everyone at the table and still sat beside him, coffee piping hot in her hand, and offered it without a word. how she’d known, how she’d been around enough to know, how she was simply okay with being around. sam too - more than okay.

more than okay with his corner of the studio smelling like the cinnamon hot chocolate she rarely comes over without. more than okay with spending time to grab one and have it waiting for her when she gets out of class. more than okay with knowing when she gets out that those late night drives home, happen whether they stay late in the studio or not.

they happen during the day too.

just as his arm happens to slink around her shoulders the first time as car zooms by, and starts to stay there. as people start to stare but his friends stop questioning. sam stops caring.

‘i think that’s the most color you’ve ever put on a canvas.’ “you think so?” his mom enjoys talking to him while he paints she’s one of the few who can. ‘i haven’t seen your work lately, but i’d say so. it looks nice.’ “i could paint a sunflower and you’d say it was genius.” she shrugs through the tiny screen of the video chat and sam smiles. considers painting her sunflowers and sending them back home. he knows her favorite flower though, it shines proudly on his neck each time he angles to get a look at the canvas in a better light. he enjoys the time with his mom, whether in silence or with headphones and the world blocked out.

‘sam you in here?’ he shoots a look to the door, to say ‘of course’ without saying anything, hand moving to cover the canvas in one swoop. jamie’s bounding in, iced mocha in her hand and he switches before she can give him the option to take it back. ‘were you on the phone, sorry.’ she’s approaching carefully having heard his mother’s who is that perk up from the speaker. “it’s my mom.” it’s still relatively early, so he takes the time to focus on drinking as much as he can of the coffee, knowing it might take a minute to effectively settle in the way he wants. he hasn’t decided if he’ll be here long, so he’ll stock up. he doesn’t notice jamie - who is caught in a conversation with his mother, both of them now staring at him.

‘you’d think he was 75% coffee and not water.’ “at least I don’t smell like cinnamon everyday.” ‘cinnamon chocolate and you’re the one who keeps buying it.’ “because you’re grumpy if you don’t have it.” ‘so are you!’ “great so what’s the problem.”

sam, whose been turning round and round in the easel stool, catches one glimpse of jamie’s face and has to keep twirling to prevent her from seeing his smile, lips around the coffee straw doing a good job of hiding it.

‘oh young love.’ jamie’s sputtering and sam’s laughing out loud now. “bye mom catch you later.” ‘bye, show me later!”

it’s quiet for a few moments after he hangs up. he’s packing up again but he’s mostly waiting for jamie to talk. whether she’ll mention his mom’s incessant need to embarrass him, or the pink that’s returned to her face, the whipped cream that’s still on her lips from her own drink. so sam decides to go first, snap her out of whatever thoughts have her a little too lost and out of characters. he leans forward, an attempt at wiping it off that jolts her well enough. jamie’s eyes are wide, clear, and ever as expressive. sam grins and halts his movements, close enough to reach and wipe.

close enough to -.

“you’ve got whipped cream there.”

close enough.

‘your - your mom said to show her later, is the painting done?’ she’s bouncing back, literally, bounding over to the covered canvas. she reaches to touch at the paper and sam takes her hand in his, eyes not leaving the other hand that’s packing everything else in his bag.

“not yet.”

it’s silent again. but jamie doesn’t move her hand, doesn’t say much. even when they make it out the studio and to his bike.

‘you’re not staying today.’ “you got plans?” ‘no just - hm people are staring.’

that’s when he takes the moment to look at their hands. and at the eyes that are still watching them, watching their hands more than sam fastening his helmet and his bag to the bike.

“do you care?” he asks her like he really needs to, like he doesn’t know. like he isn’t already fastening the helmet to her head and hopping on. jamie’s answer is her hands right back around his waist. ‘where are we going?’ “hold on tight.”

‘hanna thinks you’re a bad influence.’ “really? she should meet ahyeon.”

if by karma only, his tattoo artist runs the needle over a particularly tender spot.

“asshole.” is all he whispers to joon who laughs and continues. ‘sorry, gotta stick up for her.’ “for your girlfriend who’s not your girlfriend.” ‘yup.’

‘what’s the deal with that anyway?’ jamie perks up from where she’d been sitting quietly, close enough to where she can lean over and watch the next piece of his sleeve come to life. both sam and joon look over at her, joon for a second before he’s back to his work. ‘some people prefer it that way, without titles.’ ‘you think ahyeon prefers it that way?’ ‘i think if she preferred it otherwise she’d make it known.’ which, sam almost says at the same time as joon but joon’s quick and sam shuts up before he can finish. it’s the truth though, whatever it is between the two of them, ahyeon and joon, he’s long stopped questioning what it was. he can’t blame jamie for her curiosity, but he can’t blame joon for being defensive.

“ignore him, he’s ahyeon deprived and doesn’t know it, he’s been here all day.” ‘i wouldn’t be here now if you didn’t insist on getting this piece done on random.’ ‘what are you getting done?’ jamie’s back at it, this time leaning closer to sam than the tattoo. “i’m just extending the flowers on my neck to my chest.” ‘shitty date but at least you can see him shirtless.’ sam would whack joon for the comment but he knows better than to move. instead he sits back, huffing his annoyance through his nose. ‘she said she liked labels might as well call this what it is.’ “maybe i should call ahyeon since you seem to miss her so much.” instead joon’s eyes stay down, only lifting his other finger to flip sam the bird, to which he flips right back with a smile. for the moment, for several moments, jamie just watches. sometimes they don’t talk at all when he’s getting a piece done and sometimes all they do is talk. sam and joon both men of few words he’s worried a bit about jamie’s comfort level but she seems enthralled with the process, with the art itself.

‘do they all have meanings?’ she speaks up several minutes later. she’s hushed, the awe slipping into her tone. “some, not all.” ‘the ones sam designs tend to have meanings, the stuff for the fillers are mine.’ that launches them into conversations about which ones sam’s done and why. that leads them into discussions about art, about the differences in their styles, about how old the different tattoos are, stories of first ones and recent ones. the same comfort he slips in with joon, jamie slowly easing her way between them, their bickering and brash words and all. and sam knows, regardless of what he’ll label this as, he definitely likes it.

‘it’s me.’ “it is.”

he likes this too. the look on her face as she watches him put the finishing touches. as he outlines the crowd in some more grays and browns, as he adds layers to the figure that is her on the stage. he likes how easily she’s slipped into the studio and how boldly she approaches, how she can be so bold yet so bashful.

‘was this the open mic night.’ “the first one.” ‘you’ve been to more?!’

he had. once he realized where his inspiration was blossoming from. been to more than had her and some that didn’t. sat and soaked in it all, whether it was how she smiled as she spoke, how she pulled from her soul with every word, and how others did the same. the word for that was inspiration, awe, but it’s the urge past the canvas that let him know it was something more. something stuck closer to the heart. so he finally finished the painting without regrets, his image of her being a memory of much more than that night. a memory of all the times and all the colors she’s shared with him just far.

‘it’s-’ “not as good as the real deal probably.” sam’s turning again, in the easel stool, lips once again fastened around the straw of his coffee. he’d been up all night and called jamie in the minute it was finished. she’d made no objections but seemed to know he needed it as it was the first thing she handed when she walked in. “but that’s fine, i’m not too keen on letting everyone too close to the real deal.”

‘thought you weren’t into labels.’ “that depends entirely on you.” ‘what do you call this one?’ “she’s got it all.” ‘poetic, what’s she got?’

jamie’s drawing closer, sam hands now clasped around her wrist, pulling her as gently as she’ll come. smiling when her frame nudges against him, her eyes not leaving the painting.

“take a guess.”

she doesn’t move from the hold, slips her arms around his neck and lets his own slip around her waist. but jamie doesn’t move, her eyes still don’t leave the painting and sam stays quiet, lets her take it in. when she finally does look down at him, he sees in her eyes, the very thing that sparks inspiration in a starved man. the same eye smile that sparked what it did in his chest and makes him unable to let go.

‘she’s got - i’ve got - you?’ “all of, only if you want.” ‘took you long enough.’

‘still - don’t you think it’s a bit excessive?’

sam takes the moment to indulge jamie. as always. mid-sip of the coffee he’s been needing all morning barely getting to reach its destination. and he needed it - desperately. he pauses though, just for jamie. “what?” ‘the leather jacket, the piercings, tattoos?’ “it didn’t scare you did it?” ‘seriously - hanna thought you were in a biker gang.’

he takes the next few moments to think about that. not really - but he gives the impression well. the next few seconds are more so of him observing jamie, how she sits across from him, how her hands haven’t quite left his, how she doesn’t flinch when he leans over to plant a kiss on her cheek. how she deliberately leans in and gives him a glimpse of that pretty pink again. a color that not only fills his canvases now, but his thoughts.

“well, it’s a good thing I quit them early.” ‘sam.’ that earns her two more kisses and a rather hearty laugh. if this is what leather, piercings and tattoos get him, he’ll do well to keep it up for the rest of his days.

#belleavie #au.#{ w: sam. }#hm.

3 notes · View notes

fallinfor-youreyes · 6 years

Text

Straight Into Your Arms

For the Still Star Crossed 1 Year anniversary prompts by @dailystillstarcrossed. I just want to a major thank you to them for putting this together. It’s been great to see how many people still care about this amazing show that was taken from us.

Day 7: Comfort

Day 1 Day 2 Day 6 Ao3

(This is a continuation of the dance au but it’s not necessary to understand what’s going on.)

Everything hurts. She’s tired, exhausted, bone tired and with the beginnings of a migraine, but she can’t stop. Because stopping would be admitting to her vulture of an Aunt that she can’t. That she can’t figure out the dance Giuliana had choregraphed and performed 25 years ago, that she can’t perform the honorary dance at the newly christened Capulet Theater, that everything Giuliana had ever said about Rosaline was right.

She would never be as good of a dancer as the other Capulet’s before her, that she didn’t deserve the spot as head ballerina, that everything she was working to prove would be for nothing.

All because she couldn’t figure out a few simple moves to complete the routine.

She’s been practicing for over 8 hours and every bone in her body hurts. She has a few new bruises from falling, and worst of all, she’s alone.

Juliet had run off with Romeo, and by her last accounts, was teaching ballet for little kids in a prestigious California Studio. Livia was traveling Europe with one of the Verona Dance Academy’s investors son, who Rosaline had never met. And Benvolio, well, Benvolio was out in California as well, working on a music video that could change his career.

And she was the only one left, when she was the first one who thought of leaving.

Rosaline does not agree with failure. She wants to prove herself, not only because it will be a slap in the face to her aunt, but also because this is one of the first times that her aunt and uncle have acknowledged that she is a Capulet, and one worthy of the family name. There’s some stupid part of her that is still 13, wanting the validation from her uncle. She wants them to be proud of her.

She falls again, landing harshly on her knee, and this time, she doesn’t get up.

The music continues to play, but she just folds into herself, bringing her knees up to her chest, and closing her eyes.

When she was 15, she made a promise to herself she would never cry over her aunt and uncle again. But this feels like a special circumstance.

She knows Giuliana gave her this dance because it’s difficult. Because it was the dance she used before she was a Capulet to make name for herself at Verona Dance Academy, that it was the dance that caught Rosaline’s fathers attention before Giuliana moved onto Silvestro.

She knows Giuliana wants her to fail.

So, she lets herself cry because her body hurts and now her knee is burning, and she only has 36 hours to learn this stupid dance.

Rosaline hears the doors to the dance studio open, but she doesn’t care. Let someone see her falling apart, she hasn’t allowed herself to do it in years.

The intruder is whistling along to the music, but they turn it off, and she can feel them sitting in front of her, but she refuses to look up.

“You know, most people expect happy tears when they come home after being gone for nearly a month.”

His hand brushes over her knee and she tries not to wince. Rosaline finally looks up at him. He’s tanner, his hair a little longer and a complete mess.

“Hi.” She says, and she throws herself at him, forcing him to catch her. “It’s been a long day.” She explains, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He presses a kiss into her hair, and pulls her closer.

“I can see that. I’ve missed you.”

She chokes back a sob, and holds on to him tighter.

“Hey, Rose, c’mon. What’s wrong?” He moves back slightly, so he can wipe the tears from her face.

“I can’t figure out the stupid dance, and my aunt is going to use it to massacre me, and god, I’ve missed you.” She slides her hands into his hair and tugs slightly. “It’s so long.”

Benvolio scoffs. “We’re not talking about me right now.”

She leans closer to him, until he’s close enough to kiss. “I’ve missed you.” She says again, because she has/

“I’ve miss you, too.” He surges forward and kisses her, and it’s been almost four weeks since she’s seen him, or held him, or kissed him, and for a minute, it makes everything feel better.

“Did you come straight from the airport?” She asks, once they pull back for breath.

He nods. “Well, first I went to your place, and when you were missing, I came to find you.”

“You should go home and get some sleep.”

He tightens her arms around her. “I’m not leaving without you.

“I have to practice. I need to get to this right.”

He brushes a tear from her cheek. “You can’t dance like this.” He presses a kiss you her forehead. “I know you Capulet. You are tired, and obviously emotionally drained. You need sleep. And then we can pick this up again tomorrow.”

“We?”

“I haven’t seen you in forever, Capulet. I don’t plan on leaving your side. And I can try to help you.”

She kisses him again, because he’s here, he’s present, because she might be falling a little bit in love with him.

“And you know, once this is over, maybe we can start thinking about California. A little more, permanently.” He says.

“What do you mean?” She asks.

“Romeo and Juliet were talking about maybe opening their own studio. And you know, we could move away from Verona and family grudges and have a place where ballet and hip hop and all other forms aren’t so separated.” He pauses, running his hands up her back. “Plus, I think you would love California.”

“You do?”

“Mhm.” He kisses her again, soft and slow. “I’ve missed you.” He mumbles against her lips, and she smiles.

“Let’s go home.” She says, and then Benvolio is effortlessly picking her up and spinning her, and her tears have dried, and she’s laughing.

She knows she doesn’t have the dance down yet. But Benvolio is home. And she might finally be able to leave.

Once Benvolio stops spinning them she grabs his face and leads his lips back to hers, and she lets herself relax. She can worry about her aunt and the dance and the new theater tomorrow.

Right now, all she wants to do is be with him.

#rosvolio #ssc fic #still star crossed fic #still star crossed #my fic #ssc anniversary #i think this also turned into more fluff than comfort whoops #dance au #highkey inspired by straight into your arms by vance joy

15 notes · View notes

strangenormal · 6 years

Photo

Cherry Bomb Part 6

Summary: You were Billy’s best friend when he lived in California. You lost touch not by choice. You never took the chance to share your feelings before he left. Will you take the chance now that you followed him all the way to Hawkins?

Billy x Reader/ POSSIBLE Steve x Reader

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters featured in strange things. Story will contain mature content as it progresses. Requester open & hope you enjoy. Image credit to original poster.

Warnings: Minor foul language

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Max was so excited you were going to be hanging out with Steve and her friends tonight. She knew the they were all going to love you. You tried to get Billy to join, but he said he felt it was too soon after everything else that happened. But you made him PROMISE he wouldn’t skip your holiday get together with all of them next week. Steve’s parents were out of town on business, so everyone was headed there for the evening.

“Billy, I’m going to be late if you don’t let me up.”

He had you trapped with his whole body wrapped around you on your couch as you were both laying watching TV for a short time after you got off work before going to meet with everyone.

He sighed and grumbled before slowly releasing you and allowing you to stand up, only to pull you back down on top of him.

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Billy, it’s just Steve and the kids. You could go ya know.”

“You know it’s too soon for that and they invited YOU, not me. “

You wanted to say that you two were a “we” so whenever someone invited you, it should be implied that he was too. But you looked at how things have been and he’s still secretive around Max about it. He won’t kiss you on the lips in front of her, you haven’t really been on a date outside of your place and going for long drives. Were you a secret he was hiding? Was he ashamed to be dating you? Were you just a fling? Were you seeing you two as something more serious than he was? You were lost in your thoughts you didn’t notice him looking at you as if trying to figure out what was going on in your head. He placed a chaste kiss on your lips bringing you back to the present.

“Penny for your thoughts Princess?”

You shuffled yourself off laying on top of him and dismissively responded, “It’s nothing. I should really get going.” You started to collect your bag, keys, and jacket. “You’re welcome to stay and hang out here if you don’t wanna go home.” You gave him a quick kiss before rushing out your door leaving the poor guy sitting there stunned about what he may have done wrong for you to just run out like that.

You made it to Steve’s in no time and could hear the ruckus inside. You rang the bell and Steve answered the door, a big smile spreading across his lips as he pulled you in for a hug as he ushered you inside out of the cold.

“Glad you could make it y/n.”

“Wouldn’t miss tonight for anything.” You just realized the room got quiet as you walked inside.

All the boys were gaping at you and the girl you assumed was Jane was looking at you with her head tilted to the side. You weren’t sure if it was the new (punkish color of your choice) you just put in your hair or your style in general that had them all intrigued.

Max broke the silence introducing you, “Guys, this is y/n. Y/n, this everyone.” She started to point to each of them as she listed off names and they all gave you a slight wave as they were each introduced. Until Jane. You could tell she was going to be tough cookie to break through with.

“Hi everyone.” You normally weren’t this socially awkward, but it was different having a bunch of young teens gawking at you that you didn’t know.

Steve broke through the tension offering everyone head into the basement and start the movie while he called to see where the food was and start making the popcorn and getting the snacks together. You offered to help while the all the young ones went downstairs.

“Sorry about them. They’re not used to someone as eccentric as you.” He laughed a little as he started to get bowls out of his cupboards.

“Eh, I’m used to the weird glances and stares, but that was a little intense with a whole squad.”

“Well it doesn’t help that you’re beautiful too. The guys are still learning how to deal with girls.”

You couldn’t help but blush at his statement. “I don’t think they ALL do. Lucas and Mike have girlfriends, Max and Jane, right?”

“Well yeah, but Dustin and Will aren’t quite at that level yet. Dustin’s come out of his shell a lot and will usually go and strike conversation no problem, until he meets someone REALLY amazing.”

You bit your lip not ready for the stream of compliments to be coming from Steve. “He JUST met me, how does he know how amazing I am?” You sat on the counter next to the bowls looking at Steve and this time you caught him blushing.

“Uh…Max raves about you all the time after she found out you were back. She talked about you a little when the guys asked how she learned some of her skateboarding tricks, but as soon as we arranged this get together she just raved on and on about you.”

“Uh huh…well I’m glad I’m something to rave about.”

“From what I’ve gotten to know about you, you’re someone to shout from the rooftops about y/n.”

You had to look away from him he was standing so close to you. You shuffled off the counter top before grabbing one of the bags of candy and pouring it into a bowl.

Steve scratched the back of his neck and cleared his throat before picking up the phone to dial the pizza delivery, but as soon as he picked up the phone, the doorbell rang. You both looked at each other at the odd timing. Steve made his way to the door to find the pizza boy a little winded.

“Sorry Steve, it’s been crazy.”

“That’s ok Sam. I was just about to call.” He handed Sam the money and thanked him again before shutting the door.

The popcorn only took a couple more minutes and you carried the pizzas while Steve juggled the candy bowls and popcorn. The kids were sprawled all around, but left the loveseat open for you and Steve to sit on. You looked at Steve with an accusing raised brow. He sheepishly smiled back at you. You smirked back at him before grabbing a plate and loading it with pizza and taking your seat. Everyone else followed suit and Dustin hit play for the movie to start. It was Star Wars of course, but you really couldn’t blame them either.

“They’ve already watched this about a hundred times, but they KEEP watching it.”

“It’s ok. Love to watch Star Wars I do.”

Steve almost choked laughing at you and your horrible Yoda impression. You shoved at him telling him to fuck off under your breath.

“I’m sorry, that was adorably lame.”

“Whatever Steve, just watch the movie.” You faked a tantrum before digging back into your food.

About half way through Steve went and made more popcorn for just the 2 of you since the rest of them were hovering over the bowl like vultures. Your hands would sporadically brush against each other if you both reached into the bowl at the same time. There were small sparks, but you were confused by them. You knew you loved Billy, even if you had never said it aloud, and even if he was being a dude and being weird as he seemed to be hiding you. But you couldn’t deny you liked Steve too. He was cute, funny, was great with all the kids, and wasn’t afraid to do something he could be made fun of for. You started to get tired and Steve moved the popcorn bowl offering for you to lay on his shoulder. You took the offer and got comfortable resting on him. You all must have dozed off, because Max woke you up in a frenzy.

“Y/n! I need to get home! It’s so late! Dad is going to be FURIOUS!” You jolted up and took in your surroundings forgetting where you were momentarily. You looked at your clock saw it was 11PM.

“Shit!” Steve woke up at your outburst.

“Everything ok?” His voice laced with sleep.

“I need to get Max home and I need to get home too. Thanks for having us over Steve.” You placed a kiss on his cheek before you and Max rushed back upstairs and out to your car.

“So what’s the plan kiddo? AAAAAAH!“ You nearly jumped out of your skin at a tapping on your window.

You looked out the window to find Chief Hopper. You had run into him in town already before.

“You ladies Ok? Saw you running out of the house pretty fast.”

“Yeah, we’re good Chief. Just dozed off and lost track of time and now I need to rush to get this one home before she gets in trouble.”

He let out a sigh and you were hoping it wasn’t because of you.

“I can take her.“

“I’m not sure if it would help her to show up in a cop car.”

“Eh, I can say I got held up at the station and forgot to call them to say I’d be dropping her off late. They haven’t called her in missing, so she can’t be in that much trouble.”

You looked to Max for her input.

“I think it would be safer for me to go with the Chief y/n. My parents won’t question him.”

“Alright kid.” You give her a hug before she hops out as Chief Hopper goes inside to retrieve Jane. They all head off in no time and so do you. You make it home and Billy asleep on your couch.

“Fuck…his dad is gonna be pissed that someone else brought Max home and that he’s not home either.“

You strode over to him ready to rouse him awake, but stopped a moment to admire how peaceful he looked when he was sleeping. No creases of anger across his features and a content look on his face as if he was having a good dream. You tried to think of what to do. Do you send him home to face his father tonight or wait til the morning? You kneeled down in front if him and trace your fingers over his features before placing a kiss on his cheek. At this he starts to stir and slowly wake up.

“Hey there sleeping beauty. You sleep ok?”

“No, this couch was a whole lot comfier before you left it.”

You chuckled, “Well it’s almost 11:30 now…”

He shot upright and you placed your hand on his forearm.

“You’re welcome to stay here and WE can go to your house tomorrow."

He looked at you like you just suggested to climb Mount Everest.

"No, you’re not going near my dad. Out of all the horrible things I could think about how shitty it was to move here, the one good thing I didn’t have to worry about what his him having a chance to hurt you.”

You let out a sigh. “I can’t just let him continue to hurt you Billy. I lo- I can’t lose you and I’m scared he’ll beat you to death one of these days."

He took your face in his hands, "I’m not going anywhere. BUT… I should get home. I think he’d be more pissed if I was out ALL night.”

You kissed his palm and let out a sigh as you held his hand in yours. You tried not to cry, but you were literally terrified of what might happen when he gets home. You had flashbacks of the abuse you suffered and it killed you to know Billy hadn’t escaped his abuser yet .

He pulled you in close to sit in his lap as he held you, rubbing his hand up and down your back, as he whispered how he’d be fine and see you after you got off work tomorrow. You calmed down after a few minutes and he placed a long kiss on your lips.

“I’ve got to go, but I promise I’ll come straight back here if he gets too bad, ok?”

You nodded in agreement and he made his way out the door, quickly placing another kiss on your lips before dashing out.

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove #billy x reader #stranger things fanfiction

49 notes · View notes