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page150 · 3 years

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Ruined 📱César x Reader (Enemies to Friends)

Request: None :(

Pronouns: None Stated

Word Count: 1888

Warnings: angst, mention on killing

It was night time in Los Angeles. The sky with it’s beautiful great white clouds had already turned from bright blue to black. Before, when you had waited on your porch, you noticed a few stars that poked out in the sky. You had felt a light chill in the air and as you stressed inside, you knew it had increased.

In your living room you paced back and forth. Your phone clutched in your hand as you stared down at it. Waiting for anything really. With each random notification you felt your nerves sky rocket. None of them were the ones you needed to ease your nervousness. You tripped lightly on the small hills in the carpet that had been made from your pacing, and looked at it as a sign you should sit down.

Right as you sat down you heard a knock on the door. It was different from your guardians and not like your boyfriend’s. His was sharp and in a pattern that the two of you had created. This one was soft, only one gentle tap.

The door was opened and you felt your heart drop a little. It was only César, but you could barely see him. He was sheltered in a thick black coat, a black beanie that was scrunched in his hand. Memories of your last encounters with him flashed in your mind. All the missed calls, the lies, the arguments. The last thing you wanted to do was have him disturb whatever peace that remained in your empty home.

“Can I come in?”

“Of course.”

In your head you smacked yourself at your response.

He walked in. You noticed that he still had his shoes on. He used to always take them off when he visited, because he knew that that’s how your guardian liked it. You rolled your eyes as he sat down on the couch and shuffled something in pocket. His eyes were low to the ground, head close to his neck. You could faintly hear the quick tap of his sneakers against the wooden floors.

“Is there a reason you're here? No offense, but usually you would call and it doesn’t look like you’re staying for long.” You ask, picking up your phone again.

“Yeah, I can’t stay for long” He pauses. In a way you were glad, you didn’t really want to see him anyways, but then his eyes glance at you, then turned away. “I just needed to ask you something.”

“What?”

He didn’t meet your eyes. You moved to sit down next to him, placing your phone on one of the cushions. You noticed how close you had gotten to him so you moved away a bit. You hated how you missed sitting next to him. Basking in the warmth he produced.

He perked up and put on a fake smile. “Olivia wants you to come to her quinceañera.”

You reply with a small smile at the sound of her name. “Does she really? I’m not that close with her, but I would love to go. Will Monse and Jasmine be there too?”

“Yup. She would really like for you to come. They all miss you.” He whispers.

Your smile falls. Now you’re looking at the ground as well. The chocolate colored wood isn’t as interesting as he makes it out to be.

“I know you didn’t just come here to tell me that. Spit it out. I'm busy.”

Cesar sighs and looks at you. You had never seen him so uncomfortable. It was like you sitting next to him was torture. He didn’t even act like this when he accidentally walked in on you in the bathroom one time. His eyes looked sad. Not glossy enough for tears to fall, but almost. He took a deep breath, mustering up courage to tell you the truth.

“Where’s Latrelle?”

You get up immediately at his words. By the sound of his name the room seemed louder now. Your hands grab your phone again and you sigh in relief as you feel it’s weight, but there were no missed calls from your boyfriend, not even a text message.

“What did he do now? Does he owe you money? I’ll pay for it, how much?” You rambled.

Cesar gets up as well. “It’s not about tha-”

“No I’m serious.” Walking towards your room you grab your wallet and pull out a bunch of crumbled bills. It was the money Latrelle had given to you for your birthday. The smell of the expensive perfume he partnered it with still lingered on the bills.

“This is $150, I can get more if he made a big mistake.” You joked. Cesar didn’t laugh, “so he made a really big mistake.”

“You know what I have to do, y/n.”

“No,” You gulp. “Just take the money. He’ll be back later and I’ll talk to him. I can talk to him, I’m very persuasive.”

“He rolled up on me and Monse, y/n. We could’ve gotten hurt. It’s not my decision, it's Oscar’s.”

“I’m sorry for that and I’m glad that both of you are okay, but you don’t have to kill him! He’s a kid, Cesar. We’re kids!”

“I’m a kid that almost got shot and now it’s his turn! Don’t you care about Monse? Don’t you care about me? I don’t know why you’re still dating him! Just be a good friend and give me the information.”

Something in you was switched on with what he said. Suddenly everything that had made you want to keep the door closed was back again. You dropped your phone and walked towards him. You push an accusing finger into his chest. All your anger that was fueled toward Latrelle moved towards Cesar in a wave that almost swept tears to fall from your eyes.

“I was a good friend and don’t you forget it. I was your friend! You pushed me away! I care about you, Ruby, Monse, Jamal, Jasmine, all of you! But, then you got all secretive and kept hiding things from me. You pushed me to the side and kept me away from your friends. It was supposed to be you and me and I don’t even care if you’re dating Monse now, but I was hurt. You hurt me and Latrelle was there when you weren’t. He was there after you ruined everything! Now you come into my house in the middle of the night asking me to rat him out? After you’ve ignored me for months? Fuck you!”

César opened his mouth to say something, but your phone vibrated on the floor. You both looked at it, Latrelle was calling, on your phone screen you could see the cute photo of you on his back pop up. It was taken at the fair, two weeks after César got Ruby to uninvite you to a party.

César looked away, “You can pick it up. Warn him if you want. You know I could never hurt you.”

Tears rolled down your cheek now. Any words that you wanted to say were clogged in your throat. The phone buzzed and buzzed until it stopped. You fell to your knees and clutched it, bringing it close to your chest. Sobs wrecked through you. They stomped at your heart and you knew what was going to happen. Cesar could only look down at you. He felt something pull him to you but he fought against it. He walked out the door closing it softly behind him.

“Cesar please,” You cried. You got to your feet and chased after him. The night was cold and you shivered at it’s emptiness. All around you the world seemed to have shut down. You and him were the only living things that dared to move.

You ran towards César and he opened his arms to bring you into a hug.

“If I don’t do this our friendship will be ruined. Your life will be ruined, y/n please let me go so I can come back to you.” He cried.

His arms wrap around you. His lovely warmth fought against the chill of night. You realize that the darkness that came from your face being pressed against his chest was more comforting then the darkness you knew would come from the absence of Latrelle. You ignore the feeling of the outline of a gun pressed against your abdomen. He held you up, as you suddenly felt heavy. You both fall to your knees. He pressed a kiss on your forehead, his hands moved to rub circles on your back.

“It’s not your fault, baby. I’m sorry for ghosting you. Life just got so hard. I didn’t want you to have to deal with it. I want you to stay safe.” He cries harder. You just hold him tighter, not wanting to let go. Not wanting it to end. For once you didn’t feel so angry when you thought about him, you could just enjoy his comfort, but memories don’t just disappear like that.

“I will. I can stay safe. I just want you to stay safe too. I know you'll kill him regardless of what I say. I’ll be honest, Latrelle’s made a lot of mistakes.” You take a deep breath. “In a weird way I’m glad you're doing it, he’s made so many enemies, but I don’t want him bleeding out near the gutter like garbage. Don’t hurt him, be quick.”

The both of you sat there in silence for a while. Collapsed in each other's arms like tired returning lovers. César cleared his throat.

“I have to ask,” He muttered. “Why are you so calm about this?

You pause for a moment. Why were you so calm? Internally you didn’t feel calm. You felt like a kid desperate for love. You felt disloyal for ratting out someone who at least attempted to make time for you. Choosing to rebuild friendship with César or to keep someone alive who doesn’t want to change was so incredibly difficult. To calm your mind you told yourself it was going to happen either way. If César doesn’t kill him, Oscar will, or some other person would get him. It was a matter of time, but César had treated you wrong. Feeling a headache storm in your mind you responded.

“I’m not stupid I know how this works. Latrelle could have shot you or Monse. I hate how he always tries to be someone he isn’t. I hate it.”

He looks down at you. Not necessarily a smile, but his face showed that a weight was lifted. One of many. A face that ignored a weight that was now pulling you down. He lifted your chin up moving to kiss you. You turn your head and pull away.

“I don’t think I can. I haven’t forgotten.” You mumble.

He wraps an arm around your shoulders. “That’s okay and I’m truly sorry y/n.”

You nod and look up at the few stars. Maybe there were more, but it was a cloudy night.

“You should go home.” He suggests.

“Okay.” You move his arm and get back up. You suddenly felt sick to your stomach, he noticed it.

“Y/n…”

“Goodnight César.” You replied.

You wrapped your arms around your body and walk away. Leaving Cesar where he was in the dark.

Author's Note: ok so there might be a part 2 to this so stayed tuned! follow my twitter for updates @/thepage150 anyways i got my first 60 notes on a post so you can hold the applause thank you thank you! & REQUESTS ARE OPEN so please leave a request! [no smut/no real people (ex. Harry Styles, Dream)] If you enjoyed this please like and follow for more. I have a huge surprise when we reach 100 <3!! Have a wonderful day ~c'k

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kim-poce · 2 years

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Alex and Neo 42 - Alone

CW: low-self esteem, fear of punishment, sickness, Evie getting violent so she can be alone.

Alex and Neo - Masterlist

Part 1 | Previous | Next

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Alex woke up with a nightmare like all the days before, all the years before. It never gets easier, it never stops hurting, this just becomes expected. This just makes him stay awake longer, work more, only to get on his limits and sleep again.

Many things are expected in Alex’s life. Nightmares, that he will kill more people, that someone will kill him eventually, that Evie will be always there with her emotionless face and eventual soft voice.

But there were unexpected things from time to time, many of them in the last months. Neo was unexpected, the way he became so important was unexpected, even Evie’s apologies came all of sudden.

Alex also didn’t see Evie’s break coming, this never crossed his mind, she was always there, but she has whims from time to time, rare but she has. The second day was more than unexpected, It was odd at best dangerous at worse, but it was Evie, what could possibly be wrong?

If Alex had learned something in those two days it would be that his place isn’t in the office, he somehow made Jasmine -from all people- sigh in frustration, he just wanted Evie to take back her work.

She didn’t.

It was only on the third day that Alex asked the right question. Jasmine is extremely literal, Alex knew that “Is Evie hurt?” is different from “How is Evie?”, Alex knew this but for some reason, he didn’t think it mattered, because it’s Evie. Because if she isn’t hurt she is fine, right?

Wrong.

“How is Evie doing?”, Alex asked, more avoiding talking about work than to get an answer, Jasmine was going to explain why they were changing weapons providers again and Alex wasn’t going to get the reason again.

“She hadn’t eaten in the past three days, Sir”, Jasmine said calmly as if this was nothing, she was always calm, that’s why Evie likes her after all, she doesn’t freak out, she doesn’t care.

Alex didn’t bother with the closed windows on the fourth floor for once, he didn’t even see them. His mind was elsewhere, his eyes could only look at the bedroom's door.

It is bad. Not the 'normal bad’, the dangerous or tiring, neither the annoying or bloody, it is worse.

It was never supposed to happen, Evie was- Evie was- she would just get over with things, like all the years before, like all their life, but when Alex knocked on her door she didn’t reply, nor did she pull her gun when he entered without permission.

Evie just turned her back at him, “Leave”, she ordered, her voice was small as if she had no energy or will to spend on words. His body almost did, every cell in his body trying to be obedient.

“Evie?”, Alex called, only then realizing he had no idea of what to do, how to help, what to say. Useless idiot, “hey…”, he tried again, but she didn’t move, so Alex did.

He approached the bed and slowly sat by her side, hoping that somehow he would do things right, Evie always knew what to do when he was feeling bad, but he never bothered in learning too, he should’ve, “Evie can you talk to me?”, he asked, touching her shoulder. Hot. “Evie! You got a fever why-”, didn’t you tell? Why would she? When did I ever ask? “Where do you keep the meds?”

“Not your problem.”, she said weakly, brushing his hand off of her. Alex tried to touch her again and was forced to remember how fast she is when his hand was slapped away.

“Can you please look at me, please?”, he approached again, the hit was so weak, and Alex didn’t like what this meant.

“Leave”, Evie ordered again, turning at him, Alex looked into her eyes, truly into her eyes, he felt nothing of the usual feeling of helplessness, it was just a pair of tired dark eyes, barely managing to glare at him.

Alex couldn’t stop looking at her, it’s my fault, “Evie, Jasmine is bringing some food, you should eat”, I should’ve noticed sooner, “I’ll take you some water”, I should’ve noticed when she decided not to work.

“Get out”, Evie ordered, no, threatened, even without the effect of her eyes Alex still felt the urge to obey, it’s what he does, he obeys, but this time he didn’t move, “it’s an older, Alex.”

“I know”, Alex said, trying to get closer, she looked so fragile, how long did it take until she reached this point? I should’ve noticed years ago.

“I won’t obey", Alex had no time to think, as soon as he closed his mouth the pain came, he touched his cheek where Evie backhanded him, it hurt, she is still strong, but there was only a bit of blood inside his mouth. It wasn’t nearly as strong as it should be.

“I’ll take the water, are the meds in the drawer?”

“Get out”, Evie said again, she was angry from the start, but she was barely keeping her eyes open, the last blow had affected her more than him, “I didn’t allow you here, fuck off.”

Alex swallowed hard, forcing his body to stay in place, not to obey, “I’ll look for-”, another blow, stronger, Alex almost fell from the bed, his ear started to ring. Evie did fall, she lost her balance and fell back down on the bed with a groan.

“Alex, if you don’t get out of this room right now I’ll make you regret it”, Evie threatened with a tired, hoarse voice.

“You are wrong”, Alex said these words for the first time, admitting she isn’t perfect out loud for the first time ever, all before he could even notice he was speaking. “If I get out now I’ll regret it”, he said firmly.

“Alex… just… leave me alone”, Evie said in a new broken tone, “I don’t want anything but being alone so leave.”

“I’ll”, Alex said, getting up and walking towards the nightstand, where the water was, and hopefully, the meds too, “After you eat something”, Evie didn’t reply, she just covered herself with the blanket.

Alex’s guess was right, when he found the meds he walked back to the bed, “I need you to sit up, please”, nothing, Evie didn’t move, because why would she help me? “Please, Drink a bit so we can talk.”

“Talk?”, Evie yelled, sitting back up suddenly and slapping his hand, making the glass hit the floor and break soundly, but Alex didn’t care about the glass, he could only stare at Evie. scared. She doesn’t yell. She complains, orders, threatens. But she doesn’t yell at him.

“I don’t want to talk, are you deaf or something?”, she shouted again, “I want to be fucking alone”, she fell back at the bed, trying to force herself up but she had no more energy to, “Leave”, it wasn’t an order, it was a broken plea, “I don't want to hurt you", she said weakly, turning his back at him and covering herself, "But I can't handle you."

Alex’s body was frozen in place, "Tell Jasmine to bring the food or whatever", Evie said, she was crying, it was unbelievable, wrong, it wasn’t… how things should be. “I’ll eat as long as you stay far away from me”, she curled on herself, “Leave.”

--------

Neo had a bad feeling, enough to go to Jasmine and ask what was happening, enough for him to go upstairs without permission, he hadn't broken this rule yet, and he didn't want to, but there he was, in front of Ma’am’s Evie room, pressing his ear against the door.

Neo was at the door when he heard the first slap. “Bad pet, mutt, you’ll be punished for hearing that.”, “Go back down, no one saw you yet maybe you can avoid punishment”, “You deserve to be punished, you should ask to be punished, to be better.”

He didn't leave, though, he isn’t a pet, he was treated like one, “If Alex gets angry at you do? Fight back?”, Ash laughed in his ears. Neo knows how fragile his situation is, how easy is for things to turn bad, all it takes is for Alex to decide to make his life worse.

But Alex was hurt, so Neo leaned on the wall and waited, his fear isn’t a reason to let people suffer if he can help. He can’t go in there, he can’t solve Alex’s problems, But he can wait and hug him after he leaves.

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Taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain, @whump-blog, @wolfeyedwitch, @octopus-reactivated, @whumpkinpie, @equinix, @stuck-in-this-mortal-form, @melancholy-in-the-morning, @neverthelass, @latenightcupsofcoffee

#Alex and Neo #Alex #Neo #Evie #whump #low-self esteem #fear of punishment #sickness #my writing

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sukifans · 4 years

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HELP ME // sokka

WARNINGS: language, a Bug

WC: 3.3k

A/N: a little somethin somethin for @fromthewatertribe’s 1k event! i had a lot of fun doing this drabble. i used 2 (“please help me”) and 8 (“i thought you loved me”) for this bad boy that definitely got away from me lmao

⇦ 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

Panic surged through Sokka when he checked his phone and saw he had about twenty missed calls from you over the past ten minutes. Just as he was about to call back, your contact photo popped up on the screen accompanied by the duck quack ringtone you’d set for yourself ages ago.

“I’ll be back,” he mumbled to Zuko, who nodded absently while preparing a customer’s tea. He stepped out the back of the Jasmine Dragon and slid his thumb across the screen. “Hello?”

“SOKKA, THANK FUCK!” You sounded like you were crying on the other end. He frowned, pulling the phone away from his ear in response to your screech.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Where are you?” he demanded over the ruckus of your wails. His hand dropped to his car keys in his pocket, ready to leave if you needed him.

“I’M AT HOME AND THERE’S A R-ROACH IN—“

Sokka groaned. “(Y/N), I’m at work. I cannot come kill a bug for you.”

Your blubbering paused. “B-But... I need help! And no one else will help me! Please help me!”

“As much as I want to help you I can’t right now, princess. I can swing by after we close in about an hour, though.”

You made a strangled sort of screaming sound and hung up. He brought his hand down, staring at his screen in surprise. The line was busy when he tried to call you back, so he pocketed his phone with a sigh and headed back inside.

Zuko was speaking on the store phone with someone when he got back to the front, making a face like he had just eaten something sour or smelled something foul. Sokka shot him a questioning look as he tied his apron back around his waist and Zuko beckoned him over.

“What’s up?” Sokka asked in a low voice.

“Just go,” Zuko huffed. “I can finish closing by myself and she said she won’t stop calling us until you help her.”

“Wh- give me that.” He took the landline receiver from Zuko. “Seriously, (Y/N)?”

“I’M FREAKING THE FUCK OUT, SOKKA!”

“It’s a bug!”

“IT’S FUCKING HUGE AND IT’S IN MY FUCKING ROOM, PLEASE GET OVER HERE! I NEED YOU!”

He made eye contact with Zuko and his friend just shook his head. “Fine, okay, you win. I’m on my way.”

She hiccuped. “You’re the best friend I could ever ask for, Sokka. I love you. Please hurry.”

“Yeah, yeah. Love you, too, princess,” he grumbled before hanging up. Zuko was watching him with raised eyebrows. “Oh, fuck off, dude.”

“I didn’t say anything.” He tried to hide his smirk by turning away to wipe down the counter.

“Don’t look so smug.” He smacked the back of his friend’s head after he threw his apron in the laundry bag.

“Hey!” Zuko punched his shoulder. “It’s not my fault you’re whipped for (Y/N) and too much of a pussy to make a move.”

“You’re fucking lucky I’m whipped and have to go kill a bug for my girl otherwise I’d kick your ass, Zuko.” He flipped him the middle finger as he headed out the door, keys in his other hand.

“Later, princess.” Zuko twiddled his fingers mockingly in goodbye. Sokka scoffed as he left, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. Yeah, he was whipped for you. He was wrapped securely and comfortably around your pinky finger. So what? It wasn’t like he had plans to do anything about it. He was perfectly happy being your friend — your best friend, in your own words. No way in hell would he risk fucking that up and losing you.

When he banged on your apartment door you simply yelled from inside that it was unlocked. It was hard to suppress a laugh at the scene that greeted him. You were curled up on your kitchen counter, hood of your sweatshirt drawn tight around your head so only your nose and eyes were visible and a can of bug spray in your trembling hand. Your tear-streaked face lit up when you saw him and it made his heart clench in his chest.

“Hey, princess.”

“Sokka!” You dropped the can and threw yourself at him. He caught you in his arms with a grunt and you wrapped your legs around his middle, clinging to his neck. His hands supported your back to keep you upright. “God, I’ve never been so happy to see you in my life. I could fucking kiss you right now.”

He had to recover quickly from almost choking on air in order to keep his composure. “Just doing my manly best friend duties.” He gulped when you slid down his body. Your feet hit the floor again but you still held onto him. “Alright, where’s the big bad bug?”

You glared up at him for his teasing. “My room. I was about to go take a shower when it fucking flew at my face! I don’t even know where it came from!”

“Stand by, princess,” he ruffled your hair and pulled off one of his sneakers to wield as a bludgeon, “I’ve got it all under control.” You rolled your eyes a bit when he puffed his chest out and flexed comically. You released him from your vice grip so he could stalk up to the closed door of your bedroom. Of course, you stayed planted firmly in the kitchen and watched from a distance.

“Be careful,” you warned, “it’s literally the biggest roach I’ve ever seen.”

“It may be big, but I’m bigger. And smarter.” He tapped his temple with his finger.

“I don’t know about that second part,” you giggled. He shot you a withering look.

“Do you want me to kill this thing or not?”

“Yes, sorry! You are so very strong and intelligent and handsome, Sokka. Much more strong and intelligent and handsome than the roach.”

“You know what? I’ll take that compliment.” He winked at you, sending your heart into your throat. You stuck your tongue out and made a face to hopefully hide how flustered you were.

“Stop flirting and kill the fucking bug!”

“You started it!”

“Sokka!” Laughing, he pushed open the door to your bedroom and disappeared inside. You watched the doorway with bated breath, listening to Sokka rummaging around to find the vermin.

There was an almighty thud, then a crash and a shriek along with thundering footsteps as your friend dashed out of the room with a massive roach flying behind him. You screamed too when you spotted the bug as it landed on your wall. Before you could react any further, Sokka had grabbed you and yanked you out the front door, slamming it shut behind you both.

“That’s no ordinary roach,” he panted, leaning against the door. He still held you close to his torso with an arm wrapped protectively around your waist. “Fucking military drone or something.”

“Did you think I was fucking joking?” Your stomach churned uneasily thinking about the insect walking all over your walls and prized possessions. A shudder ran down your spine and you buried your face into his chest, grabbing a fistful of the front of his shirt. “What am I supposed to do now? I can’t go back in there with that thing loose!”

“I don’t know.”

“You were supposed to kill it!”

“It charged me!”

“You big chicken!” Looking up, you flicked his forehead and giggled at his incredulous look. “I thought you loved me!”

His face felt like it was on fire. “I do!”

“Then why didn’t you kill it? You were supposed to protect me, Sokka!” Your hands settled on his chest and he hoped you couldn’t feel how fast his heart was beating. “So much for being smarter and stronger!”

“But you admit I’m more handsome still?” Your cheeks burned when his hand slid to your hip, using his thumb to rub circles into your hipbone through the fabric of your clothes.

“More handsome than the roach?” You couldn’t help but laugh at his goofy smile. “I guess you qualify for that.”

“Tough crowd,” he sighed. “I was going to bring you back to mine so you could get out of your roach-infested apartment, but if that’s how you really feel then I’ll leave you with the stronger, smarter organism.”

“The roach?” you squeaked indignantly. He chuckled at your wide eyes. “I’m sorry, I changed my mind. You are the smartest and strongest and handsomest again. Please let me crash at your place?”

“Wow, using me for my sweet crib? And here I was thinking you loved me for me!”

“Pretty please?” You clasped your hands under your chin, pouted, and gave him the best puppy dog eyes you could muster.

He groaned dramatically and rolled his eyes as if he were being greatly put out. “You know I can’t say no to that face. Let’s go, princess.” He disentangled himself from you and started to walk away only to realize you weren’t following. He turned back to you. “(Y/N)?”

You looked down at your socked feet. “I don’t have shoes. Or my keys.”

“I’m not going back in there.”

“Well, I’m not either.”

“Then it seems we’re at a stalemate.”

You pursed your lips thoughtfully. “Do you still have that spare key I gave you when I went out of town?”

“Good thinking, kid.” He shuffled around his key ring until he found yours, easily identifiable by the heart you’d painted onto it with your favorite nail polish. “Way to use your noodle.” He locked your front door and stood in front of you once again.

“Shoes,” you said simply, extending your leg to lift your foot in the air. “I’m not walking around like this. Knowing my luck I’ll step on a used needle and end up with some rare blood disease.” Sokka scratched the back of his neck as he considered this before a wicked grin split across his face. You did not like the looks of that. “Sokka...”

Without warning, he grabbed you around your middle and hoisted you onto his shoulder like a sack of flour. The inversion of your body made you squeal, scrambling to grab something to stabilize yourself. In your panic, you sunk your nails into the flesh of his ass.

“Jesus!” He gripped you tighter to stop you from slipping in his surprise. “I know I have an irresistibly fat ass but you gotta be careful back there, babe. That’s my moneymaker!”

If all your blood hadn’t been already rushing to your head you would’ve flushed. “That’s what you get for picking me up, asshole!” You paused. “What the fuck are you talking about, ‘your moneymaker?’”

“Well, I couldn’t have you stepping on a used needle and ending up with some rare blood disease, now could I?” You could practically hear his smirk as he carried you down to the front of your building.

“Do you derive joy from driving me up a wall?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. You made an indignant noise and pinched his side. He yelped and smacked the back of your bare thighs in response.

“Did you just spank me?” You thrashed in protest, making him stumble a bit.

“No,” he grunted and then brought his hand down on your ass, eliciting a gasp from you. “Now I did.”

“Sokka!”

“That’s ‘Daddy’ to you, princess.” He tried to drop his voice an octave to sound stern but he couldn’t suppress his laughter. You were just glad he couldn’t see your face.

“I’m going to throttle you when you put me down,” you threatened.

“Kinky.”

“You know what? I’ll take my chances with the roach. Bring me back, you fucking deviant.”

He dropped you down to the ground and you leaned back against his car door, looking away from his face. “Aw, you’re hurting my feelings, babe. I seem to remember someone telling me—“

You clapped your hand over his mouth before he could continue. “That’s enough out of you, thanks.” You could feel his smile against your palm at the reference to a highly inappropriate conversation you’d had together when you were both extremely drunk. You recoiled when he licked your hand.

“Alright, alright; let’s go home. I’m exhausted.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you muttered without any malice as he reached around you to open the passenger door. He simply gave you that same shit-eating grin and closed your door.

Sokka decided to spare your pride and carried you up to his apartment on his back instead of over his shoulder. His hands on your thighs, shifting your position every so often, made your heart race. You could still catch whiffs of the tea from the Jasmine Dragon off his clothes, mingling with the masculine smell of his deodorant. The combination put you at ease after the trauma of dealing with the roach and you sighed happily, setting your chin on his shoulder and pressing your cheek against his. The stubbly scruff along his jaw prickled at your skin but you couldn’t find it in you to care much.

You thought he’d drop you down onto his couch once you’d entered his apartment but instead he carried you into his bedroom and flopped backwards onto his mattress, knocking the wind out of your chest as he squished you under his body. Despite the squeezing weight on your lungs you were laughing uncontrollably, arms still thrown around his shoulders. Sokka wished he could have moments like this with you every night; that he could turn around and kiss you without ruining everything.

“Why so giggly, kid? Are you enjoying this?” he teased, leaning his head back onto your chest.

“Laughter is my panic response. You’re suffocating me, fatass,” you wheezed

“Nah, I think you like it.”

You hummed thoughtfully as the giggles subsided. “Maybe. You’re kinda like one of those weighted blankets.”

“Yeah?” He turned so he faced you, propping himself up on his forearms on either side of your head. “Do I relieve your anxiety?”

You quirked an eyebrow. “The opposite, actually.”

“You wound me, really. I am a calming, peaceful, meditative presence. I am a delight and a joy to be around.” He frowned when you threw your head back in incredulous laughter. You hooked your leg around his hips and flipped him onto his back, pinning him underneath you.

“Maybe you have your moments.” He stared wide-eyed up at your teasing smile and considered closing the space between your mouths. Before he could work up the nerve, you sat back on your haunches out of reach. “I need to shower.”

“Without me?” he pouted. You groaned and shoved his face into the mattress as you stood.

“Don’t wait up, baby.” He flushed at the nickname you used to tease him. He propped himself up on his elbows to see you down the hall.

“I’ll take the couch tonight,” he said. You stopped just outside the bathroom door.

“Sokka, we don’t have to do this every time. I think it’s okay if we just sleep in the same bed without arguing over who gets the couch at this point.”

“If you’re alright with it,” he sighed, dropping his head back down.

“Why wouldn’t I be? It’s you.” You gave him a quick smile before disappearing into the bathroom.

You always secretly loved staying over with Sokka. The lather of his soap running down your body into the drain made you feel wrapped in his presence — a great comfort despite your teasing that suggested otherwise. His meticulous organizing even in the shower always made you laugh a little to yourself. His products were neatly organized in the order he used them, likely something he started doing when you’d dragged him to a beauty store after finding out he used 3-in-1 “for efficiency.” Now, to your immense pride and satisfaction, he had a full skincare and haircare routine.

Upon exiting the shower wrapped in a towel, you saw Sokka snoring lightly on his bed next to a pile of clothes he’d left out for you. You pulled on his shirt and quickly wriggled under the covers, propping yourself up on your elbow. You poked your finger into his cheek and he grunted, swatting at you.

“Leave me alone, woman,” he murmured.

“You need to shower.” He cracked an eye open to glare at you.

“You’re awfully demanding for a guest in my bed.”

“Well, you worked today and you stink.”

“That’s just my natural man musk. Pheromones and stuff. Nothing to be done about it.”

“Are you an ant?”

“Only if you’ll be my queen ant.” He sent you a cocky smirk and you simply shook your head.

“You’re fucking weird, dude.” He laughed and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you directly into his armpit as you squealed. Finally you freed yourself and rolled onto your side away from him with a huff. Sokka slid behind you and rested his head on your shoulder, sliding his arm around your waist.

“You know you love me, princess.”

“Whatever,” you grumbled. He chuckled and the sound reverberated against your back, his warm breath on your cheek making goosebumps rise on your skin. His thumb slid absently back and forth across your stomach and the soft touch lulled your heavy eyelids closed.

“Don’t go to bed mad, babe. At least give me my goodnight kiss.”

Enough. It’s now or never.

Before you could start second-guessing yourself, you rolled onto your back underneath him and surged upwards to press your lips to his in an insistent kiss. It lasted only a few moments before you pulled away because he remained frozen against you. His clear blue eyes were wide as he stared down at you and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks and the tears threatening to spill as you realized what you’d done.

“You shouldn’t flirt if you don’t mean it, Sokka. It gives people the wrong idea,” you whispered, the corners of your mouth pulling into a frown. His gaze darted from your eyes down to your lips and back again.

“Who says I don’t mean it?” And then he was finally, finally kissing you before you could tell him off. You snaked your arm around his shoulders and pulled him down on top of you, desperate to be closer, to feel his body on your own to reassure yourself that yes, this was happening and it was real. His hand trailed up to cup your face, skimming his thumb gently along your cheekbone. You both broke away to gasp for air. Sokka looked down at your flushed cheeks and bright eyes and lips that were just beginning to swell and he thought you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Oh, don’t look so pleased with yourself,” you laughed, swiping your thumb over his satisfied smile on your way to pull the tie from his ponytail. The ends of his loose hair tickled your face as he kissed you again, this time much more gentle.

“And why shouldn’t I be?” Another kiss. “I’m kissing the girl I’ve been in love with for years.” Your eyes widened and you shoved him back onto the bed.

“Years?” you squeaked. “We could’ve been doing this for years?”

“I didn’t know you had feelings for me!”

“Of course I had feelings for you, are you joking?”

“Then why didn’t you do anything before now? I flirt with you constantly!”

“Because I thought you were joking!”

“Well, that’s on you, then. Now c’mere, princess,” he reached out and hugged you close to his body again, “we have a lot of time to make up for.”

“God, you’re such a cornball.” You giggled at the teasing kisses he peppered all over your face. When he finally caught your lips you hummed happily against his mouth. He tasted sweeter than the most tooth-rotting candy and gave you the same sugar high.

“Yeah, but you love it.”

“I do.” You snuggled down under the blanket and rested your head on his chest. “I love you, Sokka.”

He ruffled your hair affectionately. “I love you too, princess.”

“You still need to shower, though.”

“Ugh.”

ATLA TAGS: @hotgirlazula @octophopi

SOKKA/ZUKO TAGS: @fiantomartell

#sokka x reader #sokka fluff #sokka imagine #sokka x you #sokka fanfic #atla sokka #avatar: the last airbender #atla #atla fanfic #atla x reader #mine #nina’s 1k event #sokka

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phantomphangphucker · 3 years

Text

Phic Phight - I Tried But Not In Time

For: @ave-aria

Lancer just wanted to help, but sometimes being ‘helpful’ just gets people killed. Especially when there are already dead, or half-dead, people involved.

Lancer considered himself a decent man, a good teacher, and an overall respectable member of society. He did his part, paid his taxes, and helped the next generations thrive. In many ways he did more for society and humanity than most did, even if he hardly got the pay or recognition he likely deserved. But he didn’t really care about those things, the children were what he cared about; their future and their happiness. It saddened him when there were some kids he couldn’t help and gutted him when there were others he merely failed to help.

Daniel wasn’t one he couldn’t help and he refused to let the boy be one he failed. Not this one. Not the boy once so filled with life and a positive bright future; even if it was a bit over-ambitious. Not the brother to the most brilliant child he’s ever meet. Not the son of the people that, while strange, helped defend this town. Not someone who could do well and thrive but wasn’t, not through any fault of their own intellect or the school structure or home life, but simply a lack of effort and drive. A bit of missing commitment.

Lancer gave him a bit of a pass -maybe he shouldn’t have- after that accident of his for the first while that school year; it was perfectly reasonable to be a bit lazy while recovering from any sort of accident, good even. But the boy merely got worse, not better. At first he suspected that his parents were going easier on him due to guilt -it was their invention that hurt him after all- and were thus slacking in the discipline department. So he had tried disciplining the boy, not only had that proven entirely ineffective but somehow also practically impossible to do. No amount of locked doors kept him in detention or his office. No amount of grabbing his arm to drag him to classes would stop him from literally slipping through his fingers. Verbal scolding didn’t even seem to do more than make him embarrassed or nervous; he’d sit and take it but nothing would change.

What really caught Lancer was spotting one of the many many times -he’s sure it’s extremely often- Dashiel had pinned Daniel to a locker by the shirt, holding him above the ground by a solid foot. Lancer was going to intervene, knowing full well Dashiel would deny anything was wrong and would act ‘all buddy buddy’ with Daniel, but he’d noticed Daniel’s hand on Dashiel’s wrist, the other hand curled into a fist. Daniel actively wanted to punch the other teen. But... he didn’t. He restrained himself. Practiced good self-control. Self-discipline perhaps. So maybe discipline wasn’t the issue.

So he took a different route. He tried very literally sitting down and watching Daniel closely, giving him one on one help with his work and... it helped! The teen did fairly well immediately! Lancer thought that this little success would be enough to restart Daniel’s drive and willingness to put in the work, the effort; since that seemed to really be all he actually needed to do.

But it wasn’t to be.

That sort of success only ever repeated itself when Lancer sat Daniel down and helped him one on one. If it wasn’t for the teen lacking all other signs he would have suspected some kind of learning disability, caused by the accident perhaps, but he was otherwise normal if a bit paranoid. And Lancer certainly wasn’t revisiting that attempting to send the teen into therapy event again, that had made things actively worse and Lancer doesn’t exactly... trust therapists these days.

Then the frequent growing tardies and skipping entirely made him think that maybe Daniel really truly didn’t care unless he was very literally forced to.

And now... now there were the C.A.T’s coming up and Lancer was out of time to help the teen. This was entirely in Daniel’s hands and maybe Jasmine’s a little as well, he doesn’t doubt she’ll help him with studying. Maybe she’ll even sit him down and make him study? Sadly though, if she hasn’t done that yet he doubts she ever really will. Unfortunate, truly unfortunate.

But then... the answer sheet went missing and Lancer could think of one, and only one, student who could seemingly slip through solid objects and move as if invisible: Daniel. And Lancer is perfectly well aware that Daniel wasn’t the most... law-abiding individual and was absolutely not above cheating, theft, or trickery. Lancer usually let that slide because Dashiel truly deserved it and he’s pretty sure that one time the teen locked him in a closet was a fluke; he thinks the teen's eyes might have been red actually...

But stealing test answers was absolutely unacceptable.

“But Mr. Lancer, you still have no proof Danny took the test answers“.

Judging by the way she cringed, Lancer’s fairly certain he’s right. Regardless, he technically doesn’t have real physical on-camera proof, “fair enough. He has up until the test to return the answers. But if he cheats, I won't just fail him. I'll destroy his future”. Lancer nods to himself, that was probably overdramatic but he was a drama kid and the cheer squad was for life. Jasmine, as expected, takes him seriously and gulps before nodding curtly while walking off likely to go find her unusual brother.

Lancer is perfectly fine letting Daniel retake the test -a makeup one with different answers of course and far enough away he has time to study, without feeling the need to commit a felony just to pass; which seemed incredibly extreme to Lancer- if Daniel simply gives him back the answer sheet. Frankenstein’s Bride! The boy could give them back halfway through the test and that would be good enough; Lancer would be far less impressed with that though. Will he be proud if Daniel gives over the answers beforehand? Yes, of course. Even Lancer knows how much harder it can be to own up to our mistakes and make things right than it is to make the mistakes in the first place. He’d still be in trouble for stealing them of course, with a punishment of lots and lots of one on one intensive study sessions.

But what Lancer hadn’t expected, upon walking back into his classroom, is for there to be a well-dress but old-fashion-looking man leaning against his desk; seemingly polishing some kind of staff. Lancer quirks an eyebrow as he speaks, “hello?”.

The man doesn’t so much as look up from the staff, turning a nob at the top with some clicking noises, “William Edward Lancer, you are a man of simple paradoxes and ironies”.

Lancer stays exactly where he is, hand on the doorknob, oddly he doesn’t feel safe. In fact, he feels like he is explicitly in danger and being actively judged for his worth. “Pardon?”.

The man still doesn’t look to him, but at least he stops tinkering with the staff, placing the base on the ground and standing straight, “you seek to educate the youth, yet cripple them with stress from excessive testing. You turn a blind eye to encourage strength of self, yet that only makes the weak meeker. You try to inspire, yet are so out of touch you discourage instead. Your goal is to make for a bright thriving future for every child you can, and yet... you’ve become a gear cog in the educational machine that is the catalyst for most of their premature deaths”.

Lancer decidedly does not like where this is going and takes a step back, only for the man to seemingly disappear into thin air and for Lancer to bump up against something or someone behind him. Spinning around and staggering backwards into the classroom at seeing that the man is now behind him and staring at him with apathetic judgmental crimson eyes. This man... was a ghost. But nothing like what Lancer’s seen before, he’s sure. Gulping, Lancer grabs the first thing he can -a stapler- and holds it up like a weapon, “what do you want”. He always impressed himself with how not terrified he can make himself sound when faced with a ghostly threat.

The ghost frowns slightly, “from you? Nothing. From Daniel? Plenty. And as much as you are a cog in the educational system, you are also a cog in Daniel’s existence; and so far, not a very good one”.

Lancer’s not sure what to make of that except... “you, ghost, whatever you want with my student, you leave him alone”, swallowing, “and I help him were I can, where’s the fault in that”; he’s not sure why he feels the need to defend himself but he does.

“Explanations? Very well. The fault is in that you push him towards that which is no longer in the universes cards for him. Adding stress and crisis unnecessarily. When all is said and done, some people would be better helped left alone. Would be better to seemingly fail in the eyes of larger mortal society”.

Lancer has to cut in, “I don’t believe that. Every student and child can be great if given help, guidance, and education”; that was the philosophy of any teacher worth their salt.

The ghost actually almost seems to chuckle and smirks faintly, “make no mistake, Daniel has every possibility to be quite great. Or more so, it is something in the potential of the future; a future that, due to your intended future actions, will not come to pass”. Lancer gets that explicitly ominous ‘I’m in danger’ feeling again and tightens his grip on the stapler while the ghost continues though sounding far more malicious, “so as such, the best option is for the problem, for you, to be eliminated”, and brandishes a very large scythe.

Now Lancer knows he is absolutely in danger; he had never imagined he’d be the specific target of any ghost or ghost attack in general. But the best option currently is to RUN! Which, with his weight, is not an option he’s all to confident in. That, and the ghost’s blocking the doors. Said ghost shakes his head in mild disappointment before swinging with the scythe, Lancer barely manages to move to side and lands on the floor with a thud while the scythe slices a desk clean in half. Lancer scrambles on the floor wide-eyed, this ghost really meant to kill him!

Doing what he always does Lancer tries to think quick and grab for anything that might help him -a stapler was doing nothing against a scythe and that’s a fact- lunging for the ghosts staff thinking that maybe the ghost would value that enough to avoid damaging it. He’s not going to claim to know why the ghost left it to the side. Glancing back, Lancer has just a slight feeling that the ghost is smiling? as he grabs the staff. Lancer realises far too late, as the staff makes a clicking noise and a portal begins to swirl open around the top, that maybe this was the ghosts plan all along.

The portal swallows him whole in an instant. The ghost hums to themselves, thins their lips, and nods slightly; disappearing from sight with the swirl of clock-hands.

---

Lancer lands in the dirt practically face first, scrambling to get up and away from the staff. Craning his head around and wincing before cracking out his back, one too many hours spent bent over a desk; the things he gives for those kids. At least the ghost is nowhere in sight but something’s not right, the wall of the alleyway he’s apparently in looks far more weathered and beaten down than the city would allow; had to keep things looking good to avoid the wrath of the rich citizens. Putting his hand to the wall and bits of it crumble off, Lancer gets the distinct feeling the entire wall would crumble to dust with one solid push. He doesn’t like this, it feels too much like he’s in the middle of a serious ghost battle; the lemon/lime stench of ectoplasm in the air doesn’t help.

He’s unsure what to do at this time, stay put and wait for the first responders to start yelling that it’s safe and to come out? or risk going out himself? Both options left him at risk of a violent ghost, like the one just previously after him.

But what he doesn’t get about that is what in the name of Shakespeare did that ghost mean?!? When Lancer threatened Jasmine with ruining Daniel’s entire future that was not meant literally! So why had that ghost seemingly acted as if it was literal? And better yet, what did that ghost seem to want with Daniel?

Yes Lancer was well aware of the Fenton family business, who wasn’t?, and that his parents very likely had plans for him to take over the business one day, but as far as Lancer knew Daniel had little to no interest in that. Maybe Daniel was more involved with ghosts than he knew? Or maybe the Fenton parents' intentions to have him inherit the business was exactly why a ghost was interested in Daniel. Sabotaging or influencing a future important hunter would be something that ghosts would consider doing, even if said future hunter had zero interest in being a hunter. Shaking his head, all this think is getting him nowhere, he needs to decide his actions now.

Swallowing, well he was a man of risks, both calculated and sudden. And it has been a bit.. Gulping Lancer lifts a foot to move to step out before pausing and glancing back to the staff, it sitting innocently on the ground. What would happen if someone else stumbled upon that? Nothing good he imagines. Nodding to himself before gathering it up gingerly and returning to taking a cautious step out of the alley way; at the very least he can use the staff as a beating implement or a spear even.

But stepping out is like exiting an empty silent movie theatre into a crowded mall, like time itself had been stopped until he made up his mind to step forward. The scene that greets him is like an active war zone, people are running around without paying attention to where they’re going, there’s screaming, something is cackling with a heavy echo in the distance, an entire building starts collapsing; Lancer doesn’t know where to look or what to do so he just... stands there, frozen in spot.

At least until he sees what brought down the building, or more so who, a crumbled body flopping and skidding across the ground surrounded by rubble. At first all he can make out is the red suit, The Red Huntress, that’s enough to get him running; running off towards the downed Huntress. but when he gets close... he sees the dark skin, the shaved military hair cut, and the determined expression even with blood rapidly pooling around her head.

“Valerie!”. Lancer immediately kneels next to her, putting fingers to neck and grimaces over the lack of a pulse.

No ones ever died before. But... Lancer was trained to deal with death, in the case of a parent or Shakespeare forgive a student dying. So maybe he’s a little more calm than he should be but, no, never from a ghost attack. People might get hurt sure, but they don’t die! And this barely makes sense! Valerie looked to be in her late twenties. He scoops her up anyways, he is not just leaving her; gripping the staff tightly as he runs, panting heavily.

He sets her off near a more sturdy-looking building, there really was nothing he could do. Him slumping against the wall and crouching, “Chicken Soup For The Soul, what is going on here”, glancing at Valerie, “is this what the ghost meant by ‘cause of their death’?”, shaking his head and glancing to the staff, staring at the top, at the clock, the thing the ghost had been fiddling with. Was... was this a time-travelling device??? One way to find out... Lancer pokes at the nob on top, finding that won’t budge, then prodding the clock hands which move. Gulping, he pushes the hour hand backwards slowly and watches as the world around him reverses. Valerie seemingly glides along the ground and back through the building, the building puts itself back together, people run backwards; it’s a lot to take in.

Lancer pulls his hand away from the staff clock face, backs away from the people, slipping back into the alleyway and breathing out heavily. Glancing to the staff, “it is a time travel device”, he’s not sure whether to be in awe or completely horrified. Because that meant this was the future, he doesn’t want this to be that. Not by a mile. He flinches from the sound of a building collapsing, now knowing exactly what was happening out there.

Sliding down the wall and running a hand over his balding hair, he wants to go back, but what was the point of going back? His job was to prepare people for the future, prepare children for the future; but no one could be prepared for whatever this was. It was like something out of an apocalypse drama! The sound of another building going down sounds like definite emphasis. A sudden voice startles him, “that is indeed what it is”. Lancer snapping his head to the side and jolting upright, knees protesting; it’s the scythe-wielding ghost again... minus the scythe. And he looks like a proper ghost now, blue-skinned, cloaked, and sporting a ghostly tail.

Lancer narrows his eyes, more certain now that this ghost let him take the staff intentionally, “why?”.

The ghost almost seems to chuckle, “why not? A lesson taught in shock value sticks far better than any lesson plan, but I shouldn’t have to tell a human that. Now of course that isn’t the real question, now is it. No, the real one is why you”, the ghost floats a little closer, “why now”, and closer, “why here”, the ghost gets slightly closer and gestures with an arm, small screens appearing from thin air showing destruction taking place all around the globe, “and yet it’s not just here”; Lancer lets the ghost pretty well get up into his face, his back pressed up against the wall and shaking slightly. But where else is he going to go? Into the streets filled with suffering? He’ll take his chances here... and maybe this ghost had a point, not all ghosts were evil after all. Phantom proved that.

But as if on cue, a larger sneering ghost lands on the wall across the alleyway, cackling loudly and looking a lot like an older Phantom. But while Phantom felt safe, childish and goofy even, this ghost feels like death has arrived and is knocking down his front door with a battering ram. This ghost feels like terror and suffering without even looking at him; and looking felt like his god had come and he wanted nothing but his absolute obliteration. When Lancer jerked his head to take that unpleasant look to the side at the Phantom-like ghost, the strange ghost reaches out and taps the staff before yanking it away. Lancer snapping his head back to that ghost just as a purple portal opens up under his feet and he falls down. He’s almost glad purely because it’ll get him away from the Phantom-like ghost, away from death and torture come knocking.

If he stayed in this time, that time, nothing but brutal pain would await him.

Lancer staggers but manages to stay on his feet when he lands on the ground this time, putting a hand against what feels like wall to steady himself further; shivering still and glancing around cautiously. It looks as if he’s back in normal Amity but his gut’s doing flip-flops and, in the name of Dracula, he is trusting his gut. Especially after just having had run-ins with two of the only ghosts he’s ever felt truly and genuinely deeply afraid of. The only times he’s felt like something dead, something that was death itself, had set its eyes on him. His paranoia right now is cranked up to eleven.

Even so he still doesn’t expect the sudden explosion seeming to come from the building he’s directly behind that shakes the ground violently and blows out his eardrums, clapping his hands over his ears and wincing. He still walks cautiously to make his way around the building, coughing on the smoke as he goes; only to come face to face with bits and pieces of flesh and clothing.

Including clothing that looked disturbingly familiar to what was in his own closet. The breath he sucks in nearly makes him choke; from smoke and shock alike.

But looking up, there on the road, there’s Daniel kneeling on the ground with an outstretched hand looking stunned and red-eyed. And looking back down, Lancer understands, he gets it.

The bits of red hair.

The chunks of blue and orange spandex.

Half a dark-coloured beret.

The pair of almost jarringly intact faux leather combat boots.

The clothes that look so much like his own.

And the piece of the Nasty Burger sign impeded into the ground.

If Daniel never returned the test... this place, the Nasty Burger, was were he intended to take him and his parents; his sister of course would have came.... his friends too. They were there for him through thick and thin, even if that thick was cheating or expulsion or jail time or just a slap on the wrist. To Kill A Mocking Bird, they’d come faster and more determined than the boy’s own parents would.

There was something deeply wrong with that. Wasn’t there.

The sound of sirens overtaking the ringing in his ears gets him to look back up, back to Daniel who hasn’t so much as moved yet, his face is wet with tears. Lancer can’t do anything but watch the paramedics get to him, shake him and check him, try to ask him questions. He can’t do anything because... because he’s realised that this was what that ghost really meant. This was his own doing.

He brought Daniel and them all here in his vain self-indulgent desire to help the teen with what he thought were normal issues that just needed correction.

He brought them here and they all died because of it.

All of them but one.

And Lancer doesn’t have that staff to turn back the tides of time this time. He wishes he did because he doesn’t want, almost can’t bare, to watch Daniel be checked again and again. Watch the boy push them off when he remembers himself enough and refuses to let them take him away with surprising strength. Watches as Vladimir Masters, one of the richest men in the world, arrived seemingly out of nowhere and places a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

The amount of pure hatred filling Daniel’s eyes makes Lancer unable to doubt for even a second that Vladimir has something to do with this. But the green that flares up in those eyes is what finally makes Lancer move, jerk a step backwards. Yet still watching as Vladimir subtly jabs Daniel with something and the teen goes limp; the man telling the paramedics that he’ll handle this, that he can look after the boy himself, that he’s family. At first they protest but, with red flashing in their eyes, they agree.

And then... everything stops as if it’s a photo rather than real life. Even the puffs of smoke and steam are still.

“For a mortal to be faced with their own death, it is a grounding thing, is it not”.

Lancer doesn’t bother turning around, watching Daniel’s limp frozen form instead, “that’s not it”.

“Ah then perhaps it is Daniel, the one left behind, the forgotten child to fall between the cracks. The one the system, your system, failed”.

Lancer swallows and shakes his head weakly, but he doesn’t deny it because it’s not a lie. Lancer knows in his gut that wherever Vladimir is taking Daniel he won’t come back from.

Daniel was going to die.

And Lancer helped ensure that.

Because he did what he was supposed to do. He tried to help and he did, in some ways. But he missed something, missed a malicious presence, so entirely, so completely, that it didn’t matter; that it did the opposite of help.

Lancer glances to the side as the ghost, now appearing to look like a small buck-toothed child, floats near his shoulder, “there are times that you, as a mortal, must realise when you are at your limit. When something is simply outside of your reach. When someone is. And you must let go. If you do not...”, they tilt the staff just slightly and Lancer is transported with them to a place that looks like a lab. Lancer’s stomach drops.

Daniel is strapped down and thrashing against the restraints on a table.

Vladimir forcing a gas mask onto his face and slowly... that struggling dies.

Clawed gauntlets are wielded and Lancer can only watch as Daniel gets impaled by them and thrashes even though he’s unconscious.

Phantom is torn from him like something out of a nightmare and he lunges at Vladimir full of rage and wrath. Lancer’s never seen anything like this from the ghost, rage and hatred. The desire to hurt. He sees now how Phantom could have grown to become the other version he saw. This was how he was tainted.

Phantom, in his rage, tears a ghost out of Vladimir and devours him piece by ectoplasm splattered piece. The teen ghost has completely lost it.

Daniel has slipped off the table and woken up, has tried crawling off to the corner. It does him no good as Phantom sets his sights on Daniel.

Lancer collapses down to his knees and nearly vomits when Phantom violently tears out Daniel’s stomach, tossing intestines and organs across the room before tearing Daniel’s throat out with his teeth. He’d never imagined even ghosts to be capable of such cruelty. A bout of insanity, surely, that the hero wouldn’t come back from.

This wasn’t just Daniel’s death, but the fall of a hero too. Where they one and the same? Lancer isn’t going to claim to know, not after today.

The strange ghost speaks up again as Lancer stares down at the blood pooling on the ground and slowly creeping towards his knees. “Someday I will teach that boy, and I will teach him well. So, I want to make a deal”, the ghost leans over his shoulder near his face, all Lancer can do is side-eye them as the ghost continues, “he will live, mostly. He will thrive, in a way. But he will amount to absolutely nothing in your mortal society. In fact, he will amount to less than that, another failed statistic. And you, you will let him. He will misbehave, and you will wave it off. He will skip and miss classes, and you will let it go. He will do everything worthy of expulsion, and you will act as if no wrong has been done. You are but a bump in the road of his existence and you will act like it, and you may become his favourite adult because of that fact alone. People often appreciate the simple things in life, do they not. So be a simple thing. Deal?”.

Lancer swallows, “and everyone will be alright”. He doesn’t really have a choice here, does he?

“But of course”. The ghost sounds sickly sweet.

Lancer doesn’t know what he’s agreeing to or what he may be condemning Daniel to, but he nods weakly anyway; anything would be better than this after all.

“Much appreciated. Truly. He’ll make for a very satisfying-”.

Lancer jerks, spinning around, suddenly back in his classroom, an open empty briefcase sitting on his desk. He does hear the end of the ghosts statement though...

“-god”.

Lancer stares forwards for a bit before shaking his head violently and slumping down into his desk chair. Eyeing the briefcase warily, moving his hand and closing the lid with a soft click. Closing the lid on this day. Closing the lid on a teenager's future. Closing the lid on Daniel.

There’s something’s he’s better off not knowing. And some people better off left unhelped. The book of Daniel Fenton’s life is staying firmly unread. ‘God’ that ghost had said...

Glancing to the wall clock, it’s about that time that he talked to Jasmine, before whatever exactly that ghost was that messed with everything. But this time... Lancer’s staying right here. He’s not moving from this chair, he’s not reopening that briefcase, and he’s not talking to anyone.

He’s... not going to ignore Daniel but he is not even going to consider interfering with him and whatever The Great Gatsby was going on with the teen. He’s also going to run away if he ever even glimpses that cloaked staff-wielding ghost again. Very far away.

Daniel looks shocky and shaky the next day, but at least he and everyone else is alive. And Lancer’s going to have to live with his decisions and actions, or lack thereof.

End.

Prompt: Lancer + Time Travel

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scuttling · 3 years

Text

Tempting

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Latina OFC Sophie Cortes Word Count: 2,392 Tags: 16+, Mature SFW, Pre-relationship, Fantasizing, Accidentally turned on, Mentions of sex Summary: Aaron and Sophie both find themselves... tempted. Collection: Sophie Cortes timeline, 7-12 Months at the BAU (See Masterlist for reading order) Link to AO3 or read below! “Hey, just wanted to hand off my profiles,” Sophie says as she peeks her head into Hotch’s office Wednesday night. “Any idea when the department will catch up to the 21st century and let us do these on the computer?” she asks playfully, and he smiles, rolls his eyes a bit.

“It’s not the department that makes us do these on paper, it’s me. Morgan has been trying to get me to switch to digital, says Garcia can make us a user-friendly system in her sleep.” She crosses her arms, leaning a hip against the doorframe.

“And you’re resistant because…?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe it’s nostalgia, or because I hate change.”

“As long as it's not because you’ll miss seeing my smiling face at the end of the day, turning in my files,” she says, and though it’s obvious she’s teasing, that kind of is part of the answer.

He doesn’t want to be just a figure in his office, silently collecting completed case files with a ping of his computer. He knows they know his door is always open, but it’s sometimes the excuse of turning in their work that leads them there, gets them in the door, and he thinks it’s important to maintain.

“All joking aside, I think it could really benefit the team. If you wanted a beta tester, I’d be happy to try it out; we can get together once a week for a couple weeks to discuss any bugs or issues we find with the system. The others don’t even need to know; I could do my regular cases during the day, stay later once or twice a week and work them on the computer. I don’t mind the overtime, I’ve got nothing going on.”

“You should go enjoy your life, not spend extra hours holding my hand because I’m resistant to change.”

“I want to, though, if it will help. And I said I don’t mind the overtime.” They stare each other down for a moment; he is the first to cave, sighing and pushing a hand through his hair.

“I’ll talk to Garcia, see if she has capacity to work on the program this week.” Her answering smile is almost blinding, and he feels warmth spread in his chest; he's been feeling that a lot lately, always where Sophie is concerned, but especially when she smiles. “Hey, while I’ve got you, do you mind looking at a case with me? I can’t help feeling that I’m missing something.”

“Sure, of course.” She walks fully into his office, around the desk so she’s looking over his shoulder at the open file. Her hair falls in cascading waves around her face before she gets a chance to tuck a few strands behind her ear, and the smell of her shampoo is... tempting, to say the least.

It’s coconut, and jasmine, maybe, a light, tropical scent that makes him think of palm trees, fresh pineapple, warm sand under his feet… Sophie in a bikini, a tiny thing that shows off her every curve… Sophie curled up next to him in a private cabana, laughing softly in the moonlight… Sophie on a soft bed in a hotel room, her bare skin, even darker from sunbathing, a beautiful contrast to crisp white sheets…

“Have you considered that the second unsub could be a woman? That would explain how the victims are being lured from the mall—a woman probably wouldn’t stop in a parking garage at night for a man, but she would for another woman, if she’s in trouble.” She turns to look at him, and he’s shaken from his fantasy abruptly.

“No, uh, I hadn’t considered that. That closes the gap in my profile. Good thinking.”

“That’s why you keep me around, isn’t it?” He earns another, softer smile, and he thinks about leaning in to kiss her, how easy that would be. It doesn’t take long to shake that thought away, because it’s almost literally insane, but he can’t deny that he had it.

“Something like that. Are you headed home?” She stands fully, and he’s glad, because that means the temptation is gone. It’s not her fault in any way, all his, but he can’t deny it gets worse the closer she is.

“Not home; the girls and I are meeting around the corner for a drink. Will you be finishing up soon?”

“Probably not, but it’s alright. I have nothing going on,” he says, repeating her turn of phrase. He looks down at his work, and she sighs lightly.

“You could have something going on. Come out for a drink with me.”

“And crash your meeting with the girls?” He’s not entirely certain he’d be welcome, or comfortable, but she makes it sound so easy. Like it’s something he could just decide to do, if he wanted.

“Trust me, they won’t mind.”

“It’s a nice offer, thank you. Maybe another time.” She rests a hand on his desk, on top of his case file so he can’t finish filling out the consultation paperwork, and he has to look up and make eye contact with her, which he’s sure is by design. She’s too good at reading him, sometimes. “Definitely another time. I really do appreciate the offer.”

“I’m gonna hold you to it, Hotch. You need a life outside of this place.” She lifts her hand from the desk, places it briefly on his shoulder, and then heads for the door. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” he sighs at her retreating back. His feelings seem to be getting a little too hard to ignore. Their next case doesn’t come until the beginning of the next week. Sophie goes with Hotch to interview a victim’s mother in hopes that they can find the woman who is currently missing before the unsub kills her, but they come up with nothing, which is all they’ve come up with all day.

It’s clear Hotch is not pleased with their progress. He stands outside the car for a moment, looking like he’s trying to compose himself, and he takes off his jacket and throws it in the back seat.

“Damn it,” he hisses when they get back into the car, slamming his hands against the steering wheel; he scrubs a hand through his hair, unbuttons his cuffs, and rolls up his shirt sleeves a bit more angrily than seems strictly necessary. Sophie can’t keep her eyes off of his hands as he pushes the fabric up over his forearms—baring firm muscles covered in thick, dark hair—and when he throws the car into reverse and turns his head, placing his palm on the back of her headrest while he looks behind them, it gets her a little… hot.

It’s nothing new, of course. She has been feeling certain things, where Hotch is concerned—some emotional things, some physical things—for a little while now, if she’s being honest with herself. And she’s usually got the presence of mind to ignore it, or force it to the back of her thoughts, but he caught her off guard and she’s spiraling, now, imagining his hands on either side of her head, on her throat, holding open her thighs. His hands are close all the time, and visible, and the thought of reaching out to touch them is just so… tempting.

She must be making an oh, shit face, because his eyes become more inquisitive, his features a little softer. “What’s wrong?” She’s breathing heavily, and her cheeks feel warm, so she probably looks insane; she just shakes her head and exhales lightly, tries to calm herself.

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” He looks like he absolutely does not believe her, and she curses herself for the hundredth time for choosing to work around a bunch of profilers; they’re always thinking, analyzing, squinting their eyes at you and trying to figure you out, and it can get really irritating.

“I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I’m sorry if I upset you,” he says when he’s done squinting. She almost wants to laugh: he’s worried about upsetting her over a minor curse word while she’s literally hot under the collar for him; her chest feels like it’s on fire, always quick to flush when she’s aroused, and she’s thanking the gods that she chose a crew neck t-shirt today and not a v-neck, or the situation would probably be a lot more awkward.

“You didn’t upset me, Hotch, it’s okay,” she insists, and he breaks eye contact to focus on the road.

They ride in silence the rest of the way to the precinct, but he doesn’t move to exit the vehicle after he takes the keys out of the ignition. “I’m sorry again for my outburst. I shouldn’t have reacted that way, at least not with you in the car.” She sits back in her seat, because this is now about more than her embarrassing moment from before.

“You’re allowed to be human, you know,” she tells him, and when it looks like he’s about to argue, she shakes her head. “I know the bureau likes to discourage it, but being in tune with our emotions and other people’s emotions is what makes us the best at what we do. Don’t apologize for the things you feel.”

“I have to lead by example. It’s the best way to set clear expectations.”

“Telling us your expectations is the best way to set clear expectations. You don’t have to pretend to be emotionless. When you’re angry, be angry.” He frowns, looks at her like what she’s saying makes absolutely no sense.

“When I got angry just now, you were looking at me like you were seeing something about me for the first time. Like you were afraid of me.”

“I wasn’t afraid of you, it’s… it’s nothing. I’d really rather not get into it.” His face softens again, and he’s giving her a look that’s usually reserved for families of victims, which throws her off guard.

“I know that victims of abuse can sometimes have a negative reaction to shouting…”

She wants to groan. He’s being so kind, but if he doesn’t let this go...

“I’m not a victim of abuse, and you didn’t scare me.” He still looks guilty, and if that’s what he thinks happened, and that’s how she made him feel? Well she’s gotta come clean sooner than later. She takes a deep breath. “You turned me on, okay? You were angry, and you rolled up your sleeves, and then you put your hand on the back of my seat and it just… affected me. I can’t believe I’m saying this,” she mutters, covering her face with her hand. Hotch processes that, is still processing that when she removes her fingers from her face. He just looks at her, expression carefully blank.

“Oh. Uh, well. It’s natural; nothing you could have done about it.” She sighs at that, runs a hand through her hair.

“I know, I’m not ashamed of being aroused, or anything, but—we’re working, you’re my boss. The situation is awkward.” He looks at the steering wheel, like he can’t say what he’s going to say directly to her.

“You shouldn’t feel awkward. This kind of thing happens to all of us.” She arches her brow, smiles a little incredulously.

“You’re telling me you, Aaron Hotchner, have been inappropriately turned on on the job before?” He shrugs, nodding.

“Sure, yes.” Her brows rise further into her hairline, not believing him for a second; he sighs at her expression and shakes his head, huffing a laugh. “Okay. You were in my office last week, leaning over my shoulder to look at a case file, and I could smell your shampoo. It’s coconut, right?” She nods, not sure exactly where the story is going, but she feels herself getting hot again, against literally her every wish. “Well, it made me daydream of the vacation I so desperately want: a drink in my hand, sun on my skin, sand beneath my feet… making love late at night with a breeze blowing through the open patio door.”

“Oh.” Her heart is racing, beating so hard she’s almost surprised the sound doesn’t give her away, and her breathing is heavy, and she thinks he’s about to speak again when someone taps on his window abruptly. He rolls it down and Gideon sticks his head in.

“There’s another body, 482 West Hemlock; you two might as well stay in the car and meet us there.”

“Will do,” Hotch replies, and Gideon nods, steps away from the car. If he wonders why they were sitting there unbuckled for so long, he doesn't show it.

They back out of the parking lot sexy-incident-free, and they’ve gone a few blocks before he turns to look at her again. “Are we okay? I hope I didn’t say too much.”

“No, you didn't. We’re okay.” She smiles softly, actively thinking about anything but vacation sex with her boss.

(It’s surprisingly difficult.)

They process the crime scene, gaining some new insight about the unsub, and before long they’re ready for a profile. Sophie opts to ride back to the station with Prentiss under the guise of letting Gideon and Hotch iron out the details, but really she needs to be as far away from him as possible while working the case, or she’s going to lose her mind.

The rest of the day is uneventful, spent poring over pages and pages of cold case files trying to link other murders to the one that occurred earlier that day. They identify at least 15, and when they literally can’t go on for a minute longer, Hotch calls it and they discuss where to go to grab some dinner.

Italian wins, and Sophie gets a big, beautiful bowl of pasta primavera and a glass of white wine, and it’s almost enough to make her forget all about the day until Hotch catches her eye from across the table, smiling at something Morgan said, and her stomach clenches. She smiles lightly, trying to hide it, but she’s not sure she was able to save face in time. She spends the rest of the meal arguing semantics with Reid, something so perfectly normal that it shouldn’t raise anyone’s suspicions.

She feels eyes on her anyway, but she doesn’t look in their direction.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner/original female character #Criminal minds fanfic

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antebunny · 3 years

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Wei Wuxian, worst supervillain: part 2

Full series here.

“Wen Ning,” Wei Wuxian, with the urgency of a doomed man. “You gotta help me.”

“What’s the problem?” Wen Ning says immediately.

“Absolutely not,” Wen Qing says, without looking up from her book.

She’s sitting comfortably on the single couch in Wei Wuxian’s so-called villain lair. In reality, he couldn’t afford anywhere else, and the Burial Mounds are rent-free and neighborless. She still made Wei Wuxian buy the red couch, and it remains the only splash of color in the whole complex.

Wei Wuxian pauses, his palms still slammed down on the creaking table in the center of the room. Wen Ning continues mixing his tea. “Okay, first off,” he says, mortally offended, “you didn’t even know what I was going to say. And second, I wasn’t even asking you!”

“I’m answering for A-Ning,” Wen Qing says calmly.

“Wen Ning is a free man!” Wei Wuxian argues. “He can make his own decisions!”

“What do you need help with?” Wen Ning intervenes, dragging Wei Wuxian’s attention away from the argument.

“I’m not being taken seriously!” Wei Wuxian wails.

Wen Qing snorts. “Why would I?”

“I didn’t mean you,” Wei Wuxian says, once more mortally offended. “I mean the superheroes! They’re not taking me seriously as a villain! Last time I robbed the national bank, they just sent Lan Zhan, and we didn’t even fight!”

“Right,” Wen Qing says drily. “You just debated philosophy for two hours.”

“He had some interesting points,” Wei Wuxian mutters sulkily. “What was I supposed to do, just not debate him?”

“Yes,” says Wen Qing.

“I can’t just ignore Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian says belligerently. “Anyway, shouldn’t you be concerned? If the superheroes don’t take me seriously, how am I supposed to secure the safety of your family? If I just rescue them the government will never stop hunting them!”

Wen Qing rolls her eyes. “It’s not my fault you chose the stupidest way to go about it. Now both of your siblings are mad at you.”

Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to retort and then pauses. “Okay, but,” he tries, “it’s too late now! After last Friday–”

“There were easier ways to explain to Meng Yao where he got his psychic powers from,” Wen Qing notes, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Both Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning flush bright red.

“–the truth, Meng Yao,” the Yiling Patriarch said melodramatically, and his black coat billowed out behind him as he stalked towards Meng Yao.

The young man scrambled backwards over the rubble of the destroyed convenience store, his honey eyes wide with fear at the sight of the masked supervillain loomed over him. He was the communications director for the superheroes before all this happened, but during this fight Wei Wuxian had noticed his fledgling psychic powers and looked at the young man, who happened to look eerily similar to Jin Zixuan, and realized what was going on.

“They never told you what happened to your father,” Wei Wuxian continued, easily cornering Meng Yao.

Back in the Burial Mounds, Wen Ning leaned towards his computer like he could merge into the scene. His fingers flew across the keys, as he suddenly remembered some quote about a father that would be perfect for this situation. If only he could get to his list of villain phrases fast enough–

Wei Wuxian paused as the line flashed in front of his eyes, projected by his mask. Without registering the words, he read it out loud. “I am your father!”

Meng Yao stopped cowering.

The Yiling Patriarch stopped stalking dramatically. “Ah, fuck,” he said, his pointed finger drooping. “Wait–I meant–”

Two superheroes landed on the pile of rubble beside Meng Yao.

“Darth Vader, The Empire Strikes Back,” Hanguang-jun said confidently.

“How are you so fucking stupid,” Sandu Shengshou said, almost wonderingly. Bright purple lightning crackled around his fingertips.

“Shut up, I don’t know you!” The Yiling Patriarch cried. “I meant Jin Guangshan! I meant Jin Guangshan!”

“I think Zewu-jun’s handling it,” Wei Wuxian says evasively.

Wen Qing snorts. “Sure.”

“The point is they’re not taking me seriously!” Wei Wuxian insists. “Wen Ning, what can I do to make them take me seriously as a villain?”

“Do something only a villain would do,” Wen Ning suggests.

“Well obviously,” Wei Wuxian says. “But what?” He pulls out the chair across from Wen Ning and plonks himself down in it. They both ponder this question.

“Maybe you could kidnap a hero?” Wen Ning suggests.

Wei Wuxian brightens. “That’s a great idea! But who?”

“Oh my God,” Wen Qing mutters from her comfy seat on the couch.

“Not Jiang Cheng, he’d kill me,” Wei Wuxian muses. He props his chin up with one hand. “And I don’t want to kidnap someone who’d get actually scared…Lan Zhan! Perfect. I’ll kidnap their precious Hanguang-jun. Then they’ll have to take me seriously!”

"Kill me now," Wen Qing groans.

When Lan Wangji wakes up to see the Yiling Patriarch looming over him, he thinks he’s still dreaming for one embarrassing moment. He’s glad he recognizes his mistake, or he would’ve said or done something mortifying that he prefers not to think about.

“Good morning, Lan Zhan!” The Yiling Patriarch says, grinning evilly. “You are in the lair of the Yiling Patriarch.”

Lan Wangji sits up. He’s on a soft red couch, wrapped in at least three blankets. Other than that, the large room is rather sparse; the walls are plain stone, as is the floor, save for a threadbare rug on top of which a rickety old table sits, with four chairs of varying styles situated around it.

“How does it feel to know you’ve been kidnapped by your worst enemy?” The Yiling Patriarch says gleefully.

He leans closer, and Lan Wangji swallows, his throat dry. It seems that the Yiling Patriarch forgeos his high-collar black coat when he’s at home. He’s currently wearing a baggy black shirt and black ripped jeans, which means that when Lan Wangji looks up, he’s looking directly at his collarbone, then up at his jawline, and then at the bottom half of his face. As he leans in, his lips curve in a wicked smile, and no, Lan Wangji not thinking about his forearms, or those beautiful, slender hands–

“How does it feel knowing you’ve been rendered powerless?” The Yiling Patriarch continues. His silver eyes track the movement of Lan Wangji’s throat. “Are you uncomfortable?” He asks worriedly. “This place has no heating–you know, free rent, that’s how it is–and I didn’t have anywhere else to put you, but I thought I brought enough blankets. Do you want tea? I can make tea!”

And the Yiling Patriarch bustles off, throwing a “Be right back! Don’t go anywhere!” over his shoulder.

Lan Wangji pushes the blankets off. “I am quite comfortable,” he says to himself. Perhaps he could’ve said it earlier, but he wasn’t going to dissuade the Yiling Patriarch from making him tea.

The Yiling Patriarch returns with two cups of jasmine tea, and invites Lan Wangji to take a seat at his table.

“Sorry about the chairs, they’re kinda falling apart,” the Yiling Patriarch says. “I got them at a yard sale. Well, four different yard sales, so none of them match.”

“It is fine,” Lan Wangji says.

“Right, right.” The Yiling Patriarch clears his throat, and pushes one teacup towards Lan Wangji. “Anyway. I thought it was time I proved my worth as a villain, don’t you think?” He leans back in his chair. One of the chair legs squeaks.

“You could always retire,” Lan Wangji suggests.

The Yiling Patriarch’s casual smile drops. “Not until I’ve done what I set out to do,” he says seriously. He pulls up his villain smile again. “Though I’m sure you heroes must be eager for me to retire, hm?”

“I am worried one day you might be seriously injured,” Lan Wangji replies.

“Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” the Yiling Patriarch says, shaking his head. “The tragedy is not to die, but to be wasted. I have so much–”

“Hannibal Lecter,” says Lan Wangji.

The Yiling Patriarch scowls at him. “Stop doing that. As I was saying, I have so much to do, and so little time on this earth. If I must turn to villany to accomplish my goals, then I will. You cannot debate me into giving up my pursuits.”

“Why must you turn to villainy?” Lan Wangji asks. He drinks his tea. It’s over boiled, but still the best tea he’s ever had.

“Because otherwise, nobody listens,” the Yiling Patriarch says. “You think I didn’t try the proper way first?”

“No doubt you tried,” says Lan Wangji. “Nevertheless: what are your goals? Why do you hide your face? Who are you protecting?”

The Yiling Patriarch slams his teacup down. “You want the truth?” He pauses. “You can’t handle the truth!”

Lan Wangji sips his tea. “Colonel Nathan Jessup, A Few Good Men.”

“Stop doing that!” The Yiling Patriarch cries. He stands up and shakes his finger very threateningly at Lan Wangji. “You seem to have forgotten that you have been kidnapped, Lan Zhan.”

“I have not,” Lan Wangji says. The location leaves something to be desired, but other than that he thinks it’s a very fine first date.

“Then–! Don’t forget who holds the power in this situation!”

“Mhm,” Lan Wangji agrees. He sips his tea again. “Thank you for the tea.”

“O-oh, of course,” the Yiling Patriarch says, thrown. He sits down again. “You seemed like a no sugar type of person.” He pauses. “I mean, if you want sugar, I have some in the pantry. I think. Unless we ran out.”

“No need,” Lan Wangji says. He is, in fact, a no-sugar type of person.

“That’s good,” the Yiling Patriarch says. He smiles at Lan Wangji, who almost smiles back, heart set aflutter by the gentle smile on the Yiling Patriarch’s face.

“What is your plan?” Lan Wangji asks.

“My plan?” The Yiling Patriarch echoes, thrown once more. “I mean, my villainous plan! Uh. The one that I have.”

“Is this all for your image?” Lan Wangji presses.

“Of course,” the Yiling Patriarch says immediately. “You know me. Vanity, definitely my favorite sin.”

“John Milton, The Devil’s Advocate.”

“Shut up! I can’t believe you memorized all these quotes,” the Yiling Patriarch bemoans. “Lan Zhan, you’re ruining all my fun.”

Lan Wangji sips his tea again. “I am quite capable of research.”

“I’ll say,” he mutters.

“It is not too late to turn back,” Lan Wangji says, trying for once to put the turmoil of emotion he feels into his tone. “We can still put old wounds behind us. I can help you.”

The Yiling Patriarch slumps against his table. “Can we?” He asks, subdued. “After all, our scars have the power to remind us that the past was real.”

“Hannibal Lecter again,” says Lan Wangji.

“Fuck you! Hannibal Lecter is a good villain!” The Yiling Patriarch swells belligerently.

“And you,” Lan Wangji says calmly, “are not a very convincing villain.”

“What do you mean?” The Yiling Patriarch demands. “I kidnapped a hero! Only villains do that!” He sweeps one arm across the situation, gesturing at the hot jasmine tea and the pile of blankets on the couch behind them, and at Lan Wangji, seated primly on the old wooden chair provided for him. “This is a kidnapping!”

“Hm,” Lan Wangji says.

“I am a supervillain!” The Yiling Patriarch insists. “There’s no coming back from that. I destroyed a skyscraper last week. I’ve cost the government too much money for them to ever forgive me. There’s no way for you to redeem me!”

“There is nothing to redeem,” Lan Wangji says sharply.

The Yiling Patriarch flinches. When he stops, his expression is scraped raw. “R-right,” he says shakily. “O-of course–”

“I meant there is nothing to redeem, because you are already good,” Lan Wangji says hurriedly, realizing the misinterpretation of his statement.

The Yiling Patriarch pauses, mouth half open. “Lan Zhan, there’s no way for you to know that,” he croaks. “You don’t even know my name.”

“I do,” Lan Wangji says quietly. “And I don’t need to.” He hesitates, then reaches for the Yiling Patriarch's hand. He grips it tight, and the Yiling Patriarch lets him. “You are good.”

The Yiling Patriarch draws in a shaky breath. “Wei Ying,” he blurts. “Courtesy Wuxian. That’s. My name.”

Lan Wangji can feel the corners of his lips curve into a smile. “Wei Ying,” he repeats. “Wei Ying, you are good.”

#antebunny's ficlets #my writing #writeblr #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wen qing #wen ning #mdzs #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #wangxian

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hello-nichya-here · 3 years

Text

Why the ATLA Comics Suck

Here is my merger attempt to explain why the ATLA comics suck. Please tell me if I missed anything or if you disagreed with any of my points.

Writing everyone out of Zuko's life so he would go to Ozai willingly and use his advice, despite Zuko making Aang promise to kill him if he ever starts acting like Ozai.

Making Aang promise to kill Zuko and almost follow through with it until Katara stops him.

FL Zuko and Aang “convincing" Kuei to allow the oldest FN colonies to become independent, despite being dominated by FN colonials, just to keep families “together” despite separating families due to creating new borders/nation-states. It is implied Kuei never got reparations (or at least adequate reparations) and so the loss of trillions of dollars of land/taxes partially motives his daughter and Kuvira in LOK.

Makes everyone act stupid so Azula could go on The Search free and unbound, constantly act a menace thanks to her psychotic breaks since no one asks her what she is hallucinating about, nearly succeed in committing matricide so she can use a letter (more details below) to overthrow Zuko, and then allow her to escape into a dangerous forest without giving proper chase (ex. have Aang use AS Seismic Sense, call in June or Toph or just have Zuko run after her in the beginning).

Zuko fails to station guards at Azula's asylum, allowing her to break out her fellow asylum mates (or at least Zirin) without Zuko ever finding out.

Mai finding out about the existence of the New Ozai Society (and the fact that her father is the leader) but not telling Zuko till Zuko has almost been killed and his half-sister (along with her bro) have been kidnapped by Azula and said mental asylum escape(es) who are working with the New Ozai Society.

Mai trusting Ty Lee's "aura sense" in order to gauge the trustworthiness of a New Ozai Society pasty she is dating in order to get intel despite already knowing who their leader is and at least one of their hideouts.

Mai initially honeypots said pasty also to get back at Zuko, but eventually falls for him but he breaks up with since it is painfully obvious that she still simps for Zuko, despite Zuko not really working on any of the flaws that caused Mai to break with him in The Promise.

Zuko trying to get into Mai's pants while searching for Azula's terrorist cell, despite the fact it is largely his fault that Azula is free and Mai and Ty Lee are rightfully fearing for their lives as well as for Tom-Tom's.

Azula getting a very unjustified/unearned power-boost that allows her to slap all of the non-Avatar State powered main characters without really trying once she regains her "sanity."

Azula regaining her "sanity" but decides on a 148D plan to make Zuko into a tyrant when there are better ways of doing so like becoming his advisor.

Ursa telling Zuko to never forget who he is but mind wiping herself of her time at the palace despite the fact that she loses the memory of the kids she supposedly loves and adores.

Ursa writing a letter saying that Zuko isn't Ozai's kid. Ursa knows that she and Zuko only have value if Zuko and Azula are Ozai's kids so if Ozai was smart, he could have used the letter to kill them off. Moreover, it makes Ozai stupid; instead of burning/banishing Zuko or trying to kill Zuko on DoBS, he could have released the letter to the public, essentially disinheriting Zuko without ever getting his hands dirty.

Western-style straight jackets and mental asylums; modern wheelchairs and forklifts.

Sokka getting reduced to comedic relief for the most part and Toph's power level being inconsistently portrayed in order to maintain tension in the various plots she is involved in.

Making the Southern Water Tribe look racist for being suspicious of their Norther brothers, and Kuei and Zuko when the North and EK allowed the FN to genocide their water benders without helping them and Zuko being the leader of a newly post-imperalist nation that he was an important member of before his defection. Moreover, when it is revealed that the North wants to essentially colonize the South for its oil.

Ursa being able to make a mega op poison on command and short notice with materials easily found in the palace but never thinking to use it on Azulon and Ozai until Ozai is going to kill Zuko at Azulon's command.

Never explaining how Zuko managed to make Azula a non-entity in Fire Nation politics; how he managed to make amends to Kyoshi Island to the point the other Kyoshi Warriors were ok with supporting his regime, let alone becoming his bodyguards; and whether or not he managed to help all the people Azula banished.

Aang almost getting killed by some mental asylum escapees; more generally The Gaang constantly suffering the worf effect so they don't stomp every Comics!antagonists like they should based on their show feats.

Never seeing Zuko find out what happened to his ship crew and whether or not decided to ever honor those who were killed by Koizila.

Not touching or trying to resolve the lingering plot threads in the TV show: Hama, Long Feng, and the rogue/ banished Dai Li. Especially since bloodbending eventually becomes common enough that Katara got it banned and the Dai Li are back defending Ba Sing Se during Korra’s era. Like how did bloodbending get spread when Hama was last seen locked up again, Katara doesn’t seem like the person to teach it to others, and it doesn’t seem that people are likely to come up with it on their own due to not being in the same desperate situation as Hama? Did Long Feng survive the coup attempt? And if so what is his plan to take back power of the Dai Li and/or The Earth Kingdom? Is he going to try to take revenge on the Dangerous Ladies, Zuko, and The Gaang for ruining him? And why would Kuei and/or his daughter ever be ok with reinstating the organization that not only betrayed their own country but was also ok with their own countrymen being genocided?

Never seeing someone recognize General Iroh in The Jasmine Dragon and have Iroh explain why it was a good idea to set up shop in the city he besieged for years. Especially when it reeks of economic imperialism and he never actually made amends to the people he had hurt (Earth Kingdom commoners). And point that he has better things to do like actually mentor his inadequately prepared and way over his head nephew in statecraft.

-----

Just a few notes:

1 - It is at least sort of implied Ursa killed Azulon with poison in the show as well, which is why no one can prove he was assassinated despite how awfully convenient it was that Ursa disappeared literally the night he died.

2 - The bending could be inconsistent on the show itself (though NOHING compares to how insane the change on what the characters could or could not do was on the comics)

3 - Iroh, by himself, opening a a tea-shop in a city he once attacked is not enough to make it economic imperialism. And while I too would have preferred him to stay in the Fire Nation, at least for a little while, to help Zuko, the comics can't be blamed for that since the show itself explicitly says that Iroh is going back to Ba Sing Se (mostly because of the trope that the father figure needs to either die or part ways with the hero to show that the character is now grown and more mature, meaning they "no longer need" said father figure to stick around)

But, yeah, the comics are fucking terrible.

#submission #avatar #atla comics #the comics suck

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mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

Text

To Call Forth Love (Modern!Ivar x OC) Chapter 1

So I recently joined the Vikings fandom (better late than never, right?) and could not get this one-shot out of my head. This is my first time writing for Vikings and writing Ivar. Let me know what you think.

Also a huge shout-out to @saritanotserena for helping me with the moodboard. You are the best, babe!

Words: 4300

Warnings: mild swearing, mild sexual content, mild angst?

Series Masterlist

"I'm going to get something to drink!" Kari yelled into the ear of her friend, Alana, hoping she could hear it over the deafening music blasting from the nearby speakers.

Alana nodded, ignoring the brunette in lieu of the man who had his hands on her hips and cock grinding against her ass.

Without waiting further, Kari squeezed her way through the crowd on the club's dance floor and towards where their table was. For the umpteenth time, she tried to tug down the short, skin-tight black dress over her thighs, unsuccessful in covering the vast amount of skin showing. Even if Alana told her it looked fine and to stop worrying, it still made her personally self-conscious. Right now, she would much rather be at her shared townhouse eating popcorn and binge watching a show or reading one of her new books, comfortable in yoga pants and a soft sweatshirt with preferably no bra. Definitely no bra if she had a choice. But no, she had used up all the valid excuses she could conjure and now had to pay the devil his dues. Or in this case, go out clubbing with her friends.

Quickly, she made her way to the table and plopped down in a chair, reaching for the bottled water she was smart enough to bring this time. She ignored the couple sticking their tongues down each other's throat on the other side of the table as she took a sip of the water. Yes, she had told Alana she needed a drink but mostly she just wanted a break. She never wore heels unless for special occasions and with all the dancing she had been forced to endure amongst the mass of sweaty bodies, her feet and ankles were killing her.

She peeked at her phone, seeing the late hour and wondering if she could use it as an excuse to leave. She knew her friends planned to stay longer, or leave soon with company for the night. Perhaps no one would notice if she snuck away, feigning exhaustion or some illness.

As if sensing her thoughts, a voice called out to her from the other side of the table. "Don't even think about it."

Kari looked up, meeting the narrowed, brown eyes of her friend across the table from her. "Rach…."

"No, don't you, 'Rach' me." She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Kari. "I see you, and you are trying to figure out how to leave. It's not happening. You know the deal."

"Please? It's getting late and there is no one here…"

"Bullshit. Quite trying to make excuses. You agreed to the deal and you can't leave until you fulfill your side of the bargain and you bet your ass I'm watching." She leaned back against her boyfriend, brushing a few strands of blonde hair behind her ear.

Kari grumbled under her breath. "Doubt it. You've been trying to eat each other's faces the whole time."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"What is the deal she agreed to?" Seth asked smugly, arms wrapped around Rachel's waist and laying soft kisses over her exposed shoulders and neck.

"Before Kari leaves tonight, she has to make-out with someone...and not just a quick peck either. Full. On. Snogging." Rachel answered with a mischievous glint in her eyes and a crooked smile.

Kari dropped her face in her hands, groaning. She knew there was a snowball's chance in hell that Rachel would have forgotten about what Kari reluctantly agreed to but still…. she had hoped.

Rachel continued speaking to Seth but Kari could feel those brown eyes on her. "She hasn't kissed anyone since her ex; so Alana, Jasmine and I decided that we needed to take matters into our own hands."

"Her ex... shit, wasn't that like two years ago?"

"Yep." Rachel popped the 'p' loudly. "Now, Kari, you get back on that dance floor and find someone or I will pick them out for you."

Almost giving herself whiplash with how quickly she raised her head back up, Kari stared horrified at her friend.

"You know I would."

"Shit…." Kari mumbled, fiddling with one of the diamond studs in her ear. If there was one ultimate truth in the world, it was that Kari did NOT want any of her friends picking out someone for her to make-out with. The thought alone made her shudder. To say they had different tastes was an understatement. Her friends seemed to prefer the big, Viking-looking, blonds that seemed to enjoy going outside and chopping down trees…. for fun. Her preference was for, well not that. She downed the rest of her water and stood up, tugging down her short dress once again. "I'm going to the bathroom."

The blonde rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you better get back on the floor once you're done. We can be here all night if we need too."

Kari scurried away without a response. She did not actually have to use the bathroom but used the excuse to check her makeup and hair...and hide…. possibly for the rest of the night. Hoping to kill even more time, she took the long way to the bathroom, pointedly looking at the floor to avoid encouraging anyone to approach her.

She stumbled past the short set of stairs leading up to the VIP section, silently cursing her heels. All she wanted to do was kick them off. It was becoming a miracle she had not face-planted yet. Making a mental note to never let Alana choose her attire again, she pressed on, moving down one of the half walls along the raised VIP section.

As if fate sensed her thinking about her loathed heels, it decided to do something about it.

Someone suddenly shoved into her, pushing past her on their way towards somewhere. All the brunette managed to catch a glimpse of was a long, blonde braid and a backless dress. The force was enough to lose her balance on the stupid heels and slam into the wall next to her, her momentum and gravity then yanked her towards the ground. Just as she thought she would at least fall to her knees or kiss the dirty floor, a strong hand grabbed her bare, upper arm, keeping her upright.

She staggered drunkenly for a moment, her hands automatically reaching out to grip the shirt of the person who magically appeared in front of her, and really saving her from utter humiliation. No exaggerations. At all. Utter. Humiliation.

Once her mind refocused on no longer falling to her demise, the first thing she noticed was that whoever was holding her was definitely a man. Not just because the person was taller than her, but the sheer size of the pecks underneath her fisted hands in his shirt and the broad shoulders were a dead giveaway. Even one handed, this person was holding her upright with ease. The second thing she noticed was his scent. Yes, she knew that thought was beyond creepy but her body decided to take notice. Not her fault. Obviously. She just got to enjoy the repercussions. Whatever cologne he was wearing, it should be illegal to wear out in public. It conjured images of a fire in a hearth, bourbon, hot sex under furs and debauchery.

In the next moment, she lifted her gaze, wanting - no, needing to know who this man was. To thank him for saving her. Of course. That was it. Yep. Not to sear his image into her brain to fantasize about later. Not at all.

As her eyes met his, any words of thanks died on her tongue. For whatever working brain cells she had left silenced under his gaze. Staring down at her was the most vivid, gorgeous and terrifying blue pair of eyes that both soothed and scorched under their allure.

He never spoke a word, just stared at her. His hand held onto her upper arm as if worried she was suddenly going to drop.

Later, she would blame it on the combination of his touch, that intense look in his gaze and his cologne that made her act irrationally. So, before her mind could convince her how stupid she was, how reckless this was, how outside of her normal behavior she was acting…

...she rose up slightly on her toes and kissed him.

His lips were surprisingly soft against hers but unmoving. Slowly she retracted, hurt by his inaction but honestly not surprised. It was probably for the best. This idea was a failure from the start. She did not even know the guy, he just saved her from falling. She should have said 'thank you' and walked away…. not…. not kissed him! Opening her eyes to meet his now painfully hardened gaze, it only confirmed her stupidity. Before she could apologize and retreat to hide away from the world for at least the next century, he spoke.

"Are you drunk?"

His abrupt, harsh question startled her. Her answer tumbled out of her mouth before her mind could filter the proper response.

"What?...no, I've had like two drinks but that's it...wait. Oh gods! Was my kiss that bad? Shit. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll just...sorry." She tried to pull away from him, face flushed from embarrassment. What had she been thinking? This was why she never just made-out with random guys. Whatever self-esteem she had evaporated beneath his piercing gaze. Her ex had called her frigid but this….

His hand tightened ever so slightly on her arm, not enough to hurt but to certainly impede her desire to run away. His eyes bored into hers as if trying to read all the secrets of her soul. It was now, caught in this trap of his gaze, that she noticed the predatory glint in his eyes. She wondered if this was what a rabbit felt like while staring down a wolf, too frightened to move away. Well in her case, she was probably more of a hamster than rabbit. At least rabbits were fast and could try to hide. A hamster had no ability to outrun or outsmart a wolf. And everything about him screamed predator.

"Come." He commanded, releasing her arm and took a step to the side.

"Wha...what?"

He cocked his head to the side slightly, eyes narrowing. "Come. I am not through with you."

A sharp shiver ran down her spine at the severe scrutiny sent her way but for some reason found herself agreeing. "Ohhh….um, ok." Her friends had wanted her to make-out with someone right?

She followed him, carefully ogling him from behind. The nice button-down he wore only accentuated the broadness of his chest and shoulders, plus with the sleeves rolled up and those toned forearms on show, he could have easily been just walking out of a photoshoot for some fashion magazine. Even the dark wash jeans and white Adidas sneakers could not deter from his overall striking appearance. His dark hair was long on top and shaved on the sides, something she had never seen before but it gave him a serious look instead of it being comical.

Surprise coursed through her when he started up the few steps leading to the VIP section. Somewhere she had never been nor expected to go. Only people with money or connections were allowed to be in there. She wondered which one of the two he was. It was also now as she followed him that she happened to notice the slight limp in his gait which drew her attention to the braces around his legs. Her mind wandered with questions as to why he needed braces. Had he been in an accident recently? Or surgery? Should he even be up walking?

Once they ascended the few steps, passing the bouncer at the top of the stairs who only gave her a passing glance before returning his eyes to the rest of the club, she continued to trail him to a short 'L' shaped couch with a low table in front of it. There were short half walls around all of the arrangements giving the illusion of privacy for those seated on a couch. Glancing around quickly, she could hear laughter and see some heads over the partitions but no one seemed to have paid any attention to her and the stranger she followed.

The man dropped down unceremoniously onto the black leather couch, stretching his legs out in front of him. Immediately, his intimidating gaze turned on her and she could not help but thickly swallow at the pure wicked look that sent shivers down her spine. Without a word, he held his hand out, beckoning her closer.

For the rest of her life, she would always question why she moved closer, why she took his hand, why she let him slowly guide her to straddling his lap.

All she knew was in the moment….it felt right.

"Good girl." He breathed out; rough, calloused hands held her hips steady over him. His fingers skimmed the hemline of her dress, now indecently high, almost no longer even covering her ass.

Her rational side screamed at her, reminding her she never did this, that she did not know this man. That if her family ever found out, gods forbid, they would probably disown her and not care if it left her starving in the streets due to her wanton behavior. Though their opinions no longer truly mattered in her life.

But her emotional side softly whispered that for once, to just give in, to let someone else be in control, to revel in the pleasure his touch brought forth. To throw caution and fidelity to the wind and enjoy life for once before she locked away her heart again.

Tipping her head forward, she pressed her lips to his once again. Where he had been unresponsive to her prior kiss, this time his lips slammed against hers, dominating and controlling. It sucked the very air from her lungs. Right now though, he could happily own all the oxygen she ever needed if he continued to kiss her like this. His hands slid to grab her ass, coaxing her even closer and drawing a needy moan from her. As her mouth opened, his tongue slipped in to explore as if he owned it. He kissed as if he was making love to her mouth and giving her a hint of what he would be like in bed.

Eventually she yanked her mouth from his, chest heaving and desperate for air. His head dropped to her chest and she gasped when she felt his tongue traced the line of cleavage her dress exposed.

"Fuck, you taste amazing." He whispered, practically branding the words into her skin as his lips tasted her. Before she could move or question him, his tongue was back on her exposed skin. This time it slid up from the hint of the valley between her breasts up her chest and neck to end with him sucking just below her earlobe. A whine, or was it a purr, was all her brain could handle, so overwhelmed with sensations she had never experienced before. Sure she had been kissed before but it had never felt like this. It all felt so…. tame compared to what this man elicited out of her. As if her prior understanding of fire was only looking at a lit match; while now she could only stare, completely absorbed by the raging bonfire that threatened to touch the sky with its unending flames.

Her hands shifted from grasping his shoulders to keep her upright under his onslaught to gripping his face and forcing his lips back to hers. A heat continued to build in her belly, an inferno that she wanted to dive into without fear or care of being burned. Her hips ground against him, feeling his hardened length between her legs only spurred her on.

"Fuck, kitten, keep going. Ride my cock." He growled into her mouth.

Before she realized it, the waves of pleasure and heat she had been riding exploded. She ripped her mouth away from his, head thrown back in a silent scream. She could feel his mouth move back to her exposed skin, kissing and sucking as he continued to grind under her. Her mind felt shattered into a million pieces but instead of frightening her, she felt pure bliss. Eventually she came back down from her high, her mind whirling with what just happened.

"What…." She licked her lips, wondering why her mouth was suddenly so dry. "What, um, was that?"

"What are you talking about?" He asked smugly as he placed open mouth kisses along her chest and neck, never stopping his ministrations.

"Um, that feeling… I just...wow…."

He stopped to tilt his head slightly and meet her gaze. "Have you never had an orgasm before?"

Her eyes widened as realization swarmed her. Hastily, she tried to scramble off his lap but one of his hands grabbed the back of her neck, while the other still gripped her hip, forcing her to remain on his lap. His eyes scoured her, pupils blown wide but it was the dark, heated look in them that caused a whimper to slip from her lips.

"You never have…" he murmured, in something between surprise and a dangerous, boyish glee. Mumbling something in a foreign language, his wicked gaze never released her from looking away. One of his fingers returned to tracing her cleavage, teasing her occasionally as it dipped between her breasts only to continue its path. She could feel the heat slowly building in her core again, but if it was due to his touch or the devious smirk he wore, she was unsure. Never more had she felt like prey being toyed with by a hungry predator.

"Are you a virgin, my pretty kitten? Mmm?" He asked in such a filthy voice, it should never be allowed outside of a bedroom.

She whined, "please…"

Agonizingly slow, he leaned closer to her once again, his mouth just hovering over hers with a mischievous smirk that proved he knew what he was doing to her.

"Kari!"

She jerked at the unexpected calling of her name. Turning to look over her shoulder, she could see Rachel and Alana both standing next to the bouncer at the top of the steps into the VIP section. Rachel was staring her down while Alana's blue eyes bounced back and forth between Kari and the man under her.

"It's time to go." Rachel yelled at her over the loud music, still easily heard this far away.

Kari turned back to...to him. "I need to leave."

He nuzzled the crook of her neck, brushing her hair out of the way, before whispering into her ear. His hands never relinquished their hold on her. "Answer my question first."

"I... I need to go. I'm sorry. Please. I just…"

His hand trailed around her neck so he could grip under her jaw, forcing her face back up to meet his. His vivid blue eyes covetous in their intensity. "Answer. Me." His breath ghosted over her lips.

"Yes." The single word came out in a just barely heard whisper.

A hesitation, a pause, as if both were frozen in the moment due to her confession. Then his mouth slanted over hers in a greedy kiss, as if claiming her through sheer willpower and his ardent touch. Unable to help herself, she moaned into the kiss. Her hands gripped his shirt as if clinging for her life.

"Stay." He whispered against her lips.

"I can't…"

"I'll bring you home. We aren't finished yet." As if to emphasize his point, he rolled his hips under her, his hardened length pressing against her wet core.

"Please, I'm sorry. I want to stay, I promise. I've never…. I…. I just need to go. I'm sorry."

Deliberately slow, his grip on her loosened. First the hand on her neck, his thumb caressed her pulse point before dropping next to him on the couch. The hand on her hip glided up her body leaving a trail of fire in its wake, up to her arm and down it to her hand still clutching his shirt. Gently, almost reverently, he entwined their fingers. His blue eyes stared into hers as he helped guide her off his lap to stand before him. The lust was still evident in his gaze but now she noticed something underneath, something hidden by the ferocity. Yet she could not name it. Though it made her want to pull his head to her chest and just hold him, let whatever the unnamed emotion there bleed from him and comfort him.

"KARI!"

She jolted at the frantic call of her name, pulled away from gazing into his eyes.

"Can I see you again?" He quietly asked, running his thumb along the back of her hand.

"I hope so." She smiled gently then stepped away, before she did something stupid like give the man her number. That would be too forward for her. Turning her back to the man, she walked towards her friends.

Once she reached them, Alana slipped her arm through hers and they started to follow Rachel down to the main floor. At the last second the brunette looked over her shoulder to glimpse him one more time. His elbows were on his knees, body leaned forward and eyes glued to her as if trying to commit everything about her to memory.

For the briefest of seconds when their eyes connected, his gorgeous blue meeting her blue-green, she considered returning to him. To see what happened next so she never would have to wonder. To try and label what lay behind the dangerous glint in his eyes that she glimpsed.

Then her steps brought her to the main floor and away from his piercing gaze. She was too much of a coward to give in and taste the forbidden fruit he so freely offered. Even if a part of her wanted too. Her family rules seared into her brain since birth would never allow her too.

Quickly, the three women headed towards the exit. Just before they reached it, Rachel directed them to a semi-secluded alcove.

"What the hell was that?" The angry blonde demanded, turning on Kari with a vengeance.

"What?"

"No, don't you fucking 'what' me! We told you to make-out with someone, not plan on getting fucking murdered!"

Kari almost stumbled back at the venom in Rachel's voice. Her eyes bounced back and forth between her friends, trying to understand what she obviously was missing. "What are you talking about? Murdered? He was nice…. I thought."

"Nice? Oh, he was nice?" Rachel stared at her for a long moment in shock. With a huff, she pinched the bridge of her nose as she harshly asked her next question. "Do you have any idea who that was?"

"Um, no... we...he didn't say his name."

"Gods, you are so stupid sometimes."

Alana cut in, before Rachel could continue to berate. Her doll-like face ranging in expressions from concern to pity and fear. "Kari," she spoke as if explaining a simple matter to a child, her blue eyes pleading and intent on her face, "that was Ivar."

"Huh?" Kari stated, dumbly, mind not fully processing what that meant.

"You know…. Ivar Lothbrok…." Alana gave a pained smile, tugging on one of her large hoop earrings under her blonde, pixie cut,"....one of the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok."

The sudden knowledge felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head, freezing any semblance of warmth she may still have carried from their interaction. "What? I didn't…. are you sure?"

"Well the braces on his crippled legs should have been a damn giveaway." Rachel practically snarled.

Alana spoke back up, laying her hand on Kari's shoulder. "I know you haven't been here long but the Lothbroks have a…. reputation…. especially Ivar, for being, well, um, brutal. We just want you to be safe." She sighed and peeked over at Rachel. "Let's get out of here. Everyone else is waiting outside."

"Ok." Was all Kari could say as her mind whirled with this new information. She followed behind them like a lost puppy, too absorbed in her thoughts to pay attention to where they were going. She could faintly hear Rachel harshly muttering something under her breath as they continued.

She knew who the Lothbroks were but kept that information to herself. Honestly, she probably knew more about that family than her friends did. She had listened to her uncle curse them enough times she had grown to associate their surname with a one-way ticket to the gates of Hell. If mortal enemies were a thing, her family and the Lothbroks would be that.

Her thoughts though stayed focused on a pair of brilliant, piercing blue eyes, soft, dark hair and a voice that called something out in her. There certainly was an aura of danger that hung over him like a shadow of doom plus with the predatory, wicked glint in his eyes, Kari could understand what they meant by dangerous. It was the other look her mind continued to replay over and over. Now away from him, she could pinpoint what it was. Vulnerability. When he asked her to stay- in anyone else she might have mistaken it for begging- that confidence he wore as a mask slid away just for a moment and allowed her to peek underneath. No wonder she wanted to crawl into his lap and hold him close. A part of her yearned to turn around and rush back to him to do that very thing. But her feet kept moving, following her friends.

She was not stupid, naïve maybe but not stupid. They wanted her to stay away from him. She could read between the lines well enough. Though if she encountered him again, she was unsure if she would be able to stay away…. or would want too.

#vikings #vikings fandom #vikings fanfic #vikings fanfiction #modern ivar #ivar x ofc #ivars heathen army #ivar romance #modern!ivar #modern!ivar x oc #ivar the boneless #to call forth love #mzwrites

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vampiresuns · 3 years

Text

This Is How We Say Goodbye (Song To The Open Road) | Asra x Milenko

☽ THIS IS HOW WE SAY GOODBYE (SONG TO THE OPEN ROAD) ☽

1.9k words. Written for Asra Week, day 6: Promise. In which the Plague ravages Vesuvia, there’s an argument and Asra and Milenko part ways.

You can catch up with Milasra’s pre-game canon, ‘Like Thirst Holds Water’, here.

When Anatole and Milenko got involved, Asra and Amparo were already fighting.

Their relationship had always been peculiar. More than friends, they were sometimes mirrors, matchstick and friction, cause and reaction. While Milenko was the one Asra had fallen in love with, and Anatole the one who he rode and died for, Amparo tended to spring Asra into motion. Both of them did things in almost identical ways — Asra’s sun sign was Amparo’s moon sign, her rising sign, his moon. As such, they gave the idea of instant compenetration, of unspoken frequencies vibrating in the same way.

Amparo, the animancer, the actress, the dancer, the impersonator imbued in Asra something the others could not quite describe. That was Amparo’s charm, after all, that pizzaz that made her no one other than La Cassano.

In that way, they shouldn’t have been surprised they would butt heads this way. They shouldn’t have been surprised that nothing could deescalate the fight either. Everyone was tired, everyone was grieving. The City was ridden with the Plague, there were no answers and no solutions offered, and for the first time in the almost 20 years Lucio had ruled the inevitable had happened: the Council of Vesuvia wasn’t enough, and now it was too late for them to remove Lucio from power by declaring him unfit to rule. The mechanisms would not work, the tissue of the Court was almost entirely destroyed, and the people were ill and needed food, clean water and doctors.

Their families had decided to all ride this out together in the Palazzo, with the proper health regulations that they could adopt. The building could house them all without problem but more importantly, it would mean they would be together. Many things were said about them, like how nothing mortal could kill them, based on an old, old story of how the Consul’s office had become theirs. It was no less true that the Radošević-Cassano did not survive alone.

So they grouped, they went back home, and with their location inside the walls of the infamous Palazzo Cassano, they took in their closest friends. Their families had begun as friends, marrying between each other was recent, and only a kink of some very specific sets of family members. To them, family wasn’t blood, family was a choice.

They had asked Asra to move in with them, and with that, to relocate Muriel, no one had to know he was in the Palazzo with them, specially not the Count. Asra, however, wanted to leave, and he wanted to convince Amparo, Anatole and Milenko to go with him, so they all would take their stuff and go, and abandon Vesuvia — a City that had never done anything for any of them. There was no point in dying in it, let alone for it.

Naturally, the proposal turned into an argument. Amparo especially would not leave her mother and parent, Amparo would not leave Anzano, their grandparent, as she knew they would not leave Vesuvia. Anzano was old, very old, but still fit for travel; however, they had once been the High Priest of the Sun and had trained the new one, just like their spouse Atilia Cassano, had been the High Priest of the Moon. They wouldn’t leave a City they felt a sense of responsibility towards, and Amparo herself would not desert her family when they needed her.

Milenko had a similar idea. He couldn’t leave. He couldn’t leave when he could help, he couldn’t leave when his mothers would not go, when his grandfather would not go, when his cousins would not go. Unlike Amparo he had no will to argue with Asra, instead, with the help of Anatole they tried to calm it down, so Asra could see where they were coming from, and they could try and answer Asra’s concerns.

It didn’t work. Everyone was strung, stressed and grieving, so it was a matter of time before one of them said the wrong thing, at the wrong time, with whoever the comment had been directed at not wanting to be understanding about it. It was a matter of time before they were all arguing in the ground floor of the Moonstone and Jasmine, all of Asra’s things packed up as he said he was not staying to die in a City like Vesuvia and how anyone with half a mind would do the same.

Milenko saw the point of no return happen in slow motion: Asra’s words collided with nothing other than the behemoth that was the Cassano’s sense of pride. Whatever they had begun, it could not be stopped now.

A lot of accusations flew around. Amparo tried to tell Asra that he couldn’t just expect her to leave the City she had always lived in, the City that she hoped to die in at old age. Asra told her what did she know about losing homes, she who had been born in the Heart District with a silver spoon on her mouth, who had never had to struggle because she always had a roof above her head. Funnily enough, Amparo’s patience ran out when he told her that she couldn’t even cook for herself.

“Do whatever you want. I’m not leaving. If that’s all you think of me, then forget we were ever friends Asra.”

She disappeared into the upstairs of the shop, into its main living quarters.

“Asra, that’s not fair,” Milenko said. His tone was critical, but he still tried to stay as calm as possible. Maybe if Asra could see that he really would be safe—

Then Anatole spoke, his anger raw, yet cold and precise, like a well practiced fencing blow: “What the fuck is wrong with you. If we were a bunch of superior assholes who did everything for our own benefit—”

Asra snapped. “No, but you sure think you’ll save Vesuvia from Lucio just from existing, as if anyone in this city would ever care if you lived or died, Anatole. That’s what you do, don’t you? Pretend like you can fix his mistakes while everyone else suffers from them.”

The silence that fell between the three of them was abrupt, soon ringing in their ears, but when Asra tried to apologise, noticing he had said the wrong thing, it was too late.

Anatole looked like he had been slapped.

“Toly?” Milenko asked, moving closer to his cousin to squeeze his shoulder, wanting to make sure he was okay. Asra’s words had hit one of Anatole’s greatest fears: that no matter how hard he tried, it’d never be enough.

Before he could reach Anatole, his cousin’s face changed. As his features shifted with anger, Anatole spoke again.

Now he was truly and really angry. “You meant that.”

The issue with words was you couldn’t take them back once you said them. All you could do is hope the other person would forgive you and understand if you had misspoken. As Milenko was once again caught between Asra and Anatole arguing, he realised this was one thing Anatole might never forgive. He doubted it was his place to say, yet Milenko didn’t know if he could even advocate for Anatole forgiving Asra’s words, with time.

The issue wasn’t about who was right or wrong. There was no right or wrong, there was no miraculous answer in this unsalvageable situation. It was that Asra had meant it. Part of Anatole’s language magic was this: he was able to read feelings and intentions in spoken words. As a language manipulator, he could tell everything which people (intentionally or otherwise) imbued into words when they spoke, even if he couldn’t tell the why or the how.

Would he be able to carry on if he could feel that after years of showing honesty and vulnerability because you want the other person to know you, this was what they thought at their worst?

The argument didn’t last much longer. Anatole, not wanting to speak, went upstairs to check on Amparo, while Milenko and Asra stood alone on the ground floor of the shop.

The magician began taking his things, preparing himself to leave for real. Milenko followed him, standing outside of the backdoor as he looked at Asra adjusting his travelling coat. Amparo has gotten it for him. It was handmade, Amparo’s gift to Asra two birthdays ago.

“Aren’t you going to say farewell?”

Asra startled, not expecting Milenko standing there. “I thought there was nothing else to say.”

Once again they stood in silence. It felt like forever, even if it was probably just a couple of seconds. They were aware of every moment they lost to silence, looking at each other under the Vesuvian sunset. They felt far away, miles away.

It hurt to realise, more than Milenko was willing to admit, but Anatole had been right: he still remembered when they were arguing about Asra not asking for help about Muriel. They could be as open as they wanted with Asra, but Asra would never step in time with them, even if he wanted to.

Who better than Milenko to know this, and to know that sometimes, it was through no fault of his own.

Asra spoke first. “You think I’m making the wrong choice.”

Milenko pressed his lips together. “I don’t think there’s a right choice. There’s just the best we can do with the options we’re given.”

“You don’t think I could do better with mine?”

“I don’t know, beloved, could you?”

“Don’t— don’t call me that.”

“I’m sorry. Force of habit.”

“I forgive you,” Asra said, shifting his weight between his feet. He wanted to say something else, yet he said nothing.

“Asra. I’m not judging you. I already told you I am no one to judge.”

“How can you say that to me at a time like this?”

“What? It’s the truth. I don’t like that you’re leaving and I would never make the choices you are making, and I could give you a piece of my mind and point fingers at you. I am angry, I’m hurt, but nothing I accuse you of will make me feel better. Judging you will not make me feel better, so I won’t. I’ve never done.”

“Sometimes,” Asra said, dislodging his travel bag from his shoulder, “sometimes I wish you did. It would make leaving easier.”

To Milenko’s surprise, Asra crossed the distance between them. Milenko didn’t stop his hand from cupping Asra’s cheek. Asra leaned against it, even if he wished he hadn’t. Asra closed his eyes, tears coming through his closed eyelids.

“You know I won’t ask you to stay,” Milenko said, getting teary himself.

“Just like I know I won’t get you to leave.”

“Just promise me you’ll think about it, Asra. Promise me that at the very least, you’ll try to take good care of yourself.”

Asra opened his eyes, his vision blurred because of the tears. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, letting Faust slither into his arm to stretch herself all the way to say goodbye to Milenko.

Her tongue flicked against his nose, making Asra smile.

“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself too, please.”

Milenko nodded, Asra saying his farewells before turning around and walking away as fast as he could without breaking into a run. Milenko watched him go, until Ursula, his familiar, nudged him inside.

“May Allah keep you safe, Habibi,” he said to the empty street before closing the door behind him.

#the arcana #asraweek2021 #the arcana oc #milenko #asra alnazar #asra #milasra #like thirst holds water #amparo cassano #aelius anatole #my writing

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fangirlwriting-stories · 3 years

Text

Reflecting Light

Chapter One

Chapter Nine:

Roman was ready to find his brother at this point. They’d been getting closer to catching up with them, if the people Roman asked in each town they stopped at were any indication. They’d started getting some “oh, you just missed them,” and Roman was starting to get a little more hopeful. They had two weeks left before they had to go home empty-handed, this just might work out after all!

The town they got to that morning was larger than most of the ones Roman had been to before, which is why he wouldn’t have been too surprised if they didn’t find anything here. But before they even got a chance to do that, Shane said they had to restock on food, and he was in such a rush down from the ship that Roman barely had a chance to grab the cat hoodie before he followed him. He was busy enough tying the hoodie around his waist to put on later that by the time he looked up, Shane was already talking to a shopkeeper.

Roman was about to walk up next to him when he noticed the look on the shopkeeper’s face. He was clearly scared, and when Roman looked down at the table separating them he saw his hands trembling. He walked forward hesitantly. Shane hadn’t even done anything yet. He just wanted food, what was going on?

“Shane?” he asked, stepping up next to him.

“Roman, there you are,” Shane said, but Roman was now more focused on the shopkeeper, who had turned his terrified gaze on Roman. “Help me bring the food back to the ship and then we can start searching.”

He passed the money over to the shopkeeper, who took it with still-shaking hands before turning to get the food they needed. Roman watched him go, more than a little uncomfortable. No one had ever been scared of him when he hadn’t revealed he was part of The Light. So maybe the question that he needed answered wasn’t why everyone hated people from The Light so much, but rather why they were so scared of them.

Before Roman could think much on it, the shopkeeper set the baskets of food they needed on the counter, and Roman and Shane both picked up half of the baskets to carry them back to the ship.

“Alright, this town is pretty big,” Shane said as they set everything down. “So the most likely way we’ll find people who have seen your brother is by checking with people here at the docks. I’ll take the left side and you take the right, okay?”

Roman nodded, pulling his cat hoodie on over his head. Shane rolled his eyes a little but left the ship without commenting. Roman headed past the first couple other ships and shops when the people who saw him leaving the ship that clearly belonged to the Light kept giving him scared or angry looks. Finally, after he made it about halfway down the docks, the looks faded, and Roman started up to a shop.

“Why hello,” the woman there said. “Can I help you?”

“I hope so,” Roman said, smiling uncertainly. “Do you know if Janus and Virgil Picani have stopped by here recently?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, you just missed them. They were here yesterday giving supplies to the orphanage just out of town.”

Roman brightened. They’d been here yesterday! If they left soon, they’d probably be able to catch them in the next town! Shane had been right about the destinations before, there was no reason to suspect he’d be wrong this time.

“Oh, thank you so much!” Roman called happily. “I’m looking for my brother, he’ll be in trouble if I don’t find him soon!”

“Oh, is he with Janus and Virgil Picani?” the woman asked, starting to smile back. “You probably don’t need to worry, honey. They’re not just two of the heads of the rebellion, they’re some of the most capable people I’ve ever met. If your brother is traveling with them I’m sure they’ll make sure he’s safe.”

Roman wasn’t nearly as sure of that as she seemed to be, but the idea that they were closing in on Remus was very promising. This could almost be over after all.

“I know,” he said to the woman anyway, like what she’d said had eased his concerns. “I’m just worried.”

The woman smiled sympathetically. “Oh, I understand. I can’t imagine what I’d do if something happened to my sister.” She was quiet for another moment, looking thoughtful. “You look like you need someone to talk to. Would you like to come over here and have some tea with me?”

Roman blinked in surprise. “Are you sure that’s okay?”

“Oh, of course. It’s been a slow morning anyway, I haven’t had many customers.”

“Oh, well in that case,” Roman stepped around when the woman pushed the table back slightly and dug around in his pocket as he did so, pulling out a couple coins and passing them over to the woman. “I can pay. I have plenty of money.”

The woman smiled. “Oh, why thank you. I’m Cynthia. It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Roman,” he replied, sitting down on the spare stool that wasn’t visible from the other side of the table as Cynthia stepped towards the back of the shop to make some tea.

“I hope you like jasmine tea,” she said as she poured two cups. “It’s my favorite.”

“I’ve never had jasmine tea before,” Roman said with a smile as he accepted the cup. Cynthia gasped like Roman had just admitted to murder.

“Well have a drink then!” she called, taking up the other stool and starting to drink from her cup.

Roman laughed a little and took a sip of the tea, which he would easily admit was very pleasant. “This is excellent,” he said with a much larger smile, and Cynthia beamed back at him.

“Wonderful, I have introduced another to the greatest drink in the world!” she called happily, and Roman laughed again before taking another drink.

“Now,” Cynthia said, sounding slightly more somber. “Would you like to talk about your brother?”

Roman sighed. “He ran away,” he admitted. “Which was such a stupid move, and I don’t even know why he did it. We were all fine, there wasn’t any reason for him to run. Yes, he’s always been rather impulsive, but he isn’t stupid. And leaving like this isn’t going to help anything. Someone…” Roman sighed. He didn’t want to blurt out everything that was happening to this woman he’d just met, but it did feel surprisingly nice to get it off his chest, especially considering Shane wasn’t as concerned as he was, reasonably so.

An idea came to him a second later, and he hesitated. It would be rather manipulative, but it could also be a way to try and get some more answers, and he wouldn’t even technically be lying. Roman hesitated a second longer.

“Someone from The Light is threatening to kill him,” he said finally.

Cynthia gasped like Roman had just announced the most horrible thing she could have imagined. “Oh no, honey, I’m so sorry. No wonder you’re concerned.” She smiled reassuringly the next second. “I’m not going to tell you not to worry, that wouldn’t be possible,” she said. “But if your brother is with Janus and Virgil Picani, he’s about as safe as he could be for someone on the run from The Light. I’m not saying you’re doing the wrong thing by chasing him down, but he’s gonna be alright, I can almost guarantee it.”

Roman nodded slightly to try and make himself seem reassured, and was surprised to find that he wasn’t totally faking. Remus being with rebellion leaders was about the worst situation Roman could think of, but Cynthia seemed so sure that made him safe, sure enough that it was hard not to believe her.

“And I tell you what,” Cynthia continued with a smile. When you find your brother, if you two ever make your way back here, there will be some more jasmine tea waiting for you.”

Roman smiled a little. “I would like that,” he said. “Thank you.”

Cynthia smiled back, but before she could say anything else a shadow fell over the entrance of the shop.

“There you are,” Shane said in irritation. “Come on, kid, we’re leaving.”

“Roman, run,” Cynthia whispered to him, standing.

Roman glanced over at her in surprise. “What?”

“Why hello sir,” Cynthia said to Shane. “What can I help you with today?”

Shane gave Cynthia an unimpressed look. “Take a step back, miss.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Cynthia said, giving him a bright smile. “But I absolutely cannot let you leave without trying some of my jasmine tea. I’ll have my assistant here get you some more from the back.”

“Cynthia,” Roman whispered, suddenly feeling far more guilty. “That’s not—”

“Roman, be a dear and go out back and get me some tea, would you?” Cynthia said to him. “I have a customer to help.”

“Miss,” Shane said, his voice dripping from condescending down to poisonous. “You have badly misunderstood the situation. That is Roman’s own fault, but you best back off now before I make you.”

“Well, excuse me,” Cynthia said, trying to subtly push him backwards. “But that’s not a respectful way to talk to people. I am only being polite and offering you some—”

“Stop!” Roman cried. He pulled the cat hoodie off from over his head and pushed the table out so he could slip out from behind it. “I’ll be back to the ship in a minute, Shane. I’ll tell you what I learned when I get there.”

Shane gave Roman a look, and sighed, waving in acknowledgement as he turned and walked off. Roman waited until he was out of earshot before he turned hesitantly to face Cynthia.

She was looking down at the cat hoodie Roman was still clutching. “You’re trying to hide where you’re from to get information?” Cynthia said, looking back up at Roman.

Roman swallowed. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, though he wasn’t quite sure why he was saying it.

Cynthia’s gaze hardened. “You should listen to your brother, Roman,” she said. “He had to have his reasons for running. You should hear him out.”

“They’re going to kill him if I don’t bring him home,” Roman whispered, feeling like he was trying to justify something that shouldn’t need justification. “I can’t just let them kill him.”

Cynthia’s gaze turned colder. “I meant what I said. No safer place running from the Light than with Janus and Virgil Picani. And you can’t make your brother’s choices for him. You don’t seem stupid to me, Roman. You have to know the difference between right and wrong.”

Roman glared slightly, trying to harden his heart as much as his gaze. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’d suggest you leave now,” Cynthia said, turning around and taking Roman’s half full tea cup to the sink. “Light soldiers are not welcome here.”

Roman hardened his gaze again, and might have succeeded in getting a little angry this time. “You shouldn’t base your opinion of people on where they’re from,” he said firmly.

“I’m not doing anything of the sort,” Cynthia said, sounding just as firm herself. “But I will not endanger the people in my town either.” She reached up and dropped a curtain tied at the top of her shop, cutting off Roman’s view of her.

Endanger? Did she think Roman was going to hurt her? Why in the world would he hurt someone who gave him tea and listened to his worries? Granted, the end of their interaction hadn’t gone so great, but that didn’t mean he was going to hurt someone just for being a jerk.

Roman tied the cat hoodie around his waist as he turned and walked back towards the ship, trying to push the interaction out of his mind.

“So, what did that woman tell you?” Shane asked as Roman stepped onto the ship.

“Remus was here yesterday,” Roman said. He should focus on that, the good news they’d gotten coming here. “If we leave now, we’ll probably catch him in the next town.”

Shane smiled. “Excellent. Let’s head out now then. I very much look forward to the possibility, for many reasons.”

Roman wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but he went to help launch the ship again. It didn’t take long with the two of them moving quickly, and then Roman walked to sit over on the other side of the deck while Shane piloted the ship towards their next, and hopefully final, location.

Roman looked down at the cat hoodie around his waist and pulled it off. Patton probably hadn’t had any idea what this hoodie would actually do for Roman when he gave it to him, but it had become much more than just something to block the cold.

Roman looked back towards Shane. People treated the two of them so differently based solely on whether or not they thought they were from The Light. But rather than hatred, Roman was beginning to suspect that their main driving force was fear. Now the main question that came to his mind was why. What did they think The Light was going to do to them?

Well, right now that didn’t matter. What he needed now was to use the means at his disposal to find out where Remus was. If that meant hiding where he was from, so be it.

…

They arrived at the next town within a day. Shane docked the ship while Roman got off of it as soon as possible, already wearing the cat hoodie. He found the first person that looked to live in the town and asked if Janus and Virgil Picani were coming here soon, as his brother was on the ship and he’d been looking for him for a long time. The person smiled warmly at him and told him that Janus and Virgil Picani hadn’t arrived yet, but they were expected any day now, that Roman had beat them here.

Roman gave the person a warm smile back and headed back to the ship to tell Shane the good news.

Chapter Ten

#sanders sides #remus sanders #roman sanders #pirates #rebellion #angst #abuse #tw abuse #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #my fic

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slashingdisneypasta · 4 years

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Can I get accidental! first kiss with disney villains? Maybe it was supposed to be on the cheek but they turned their head at the last second or something? With Gaston, Jafar, Evil Queen, Hades and Dr. Facilier. (Can you tell I'm lowkey obssessed?) Thank you for your time.

Yay obsession XD

I hope this is okay for you!! And I'm so sorry it took so long.

~~~

All:

I stand, seething but motionless as the bastard sweeps by behind me. A long-fingered hand curls around my upper arm, and I have to fight with myself to prevent me flinging it off of me and slapping them across the face.

“Y/N… You understand, don’t you? I just can’t let them live. I’ll leave you be, if you tell me where they’re going.” I look up with just my eyes, not moving my chin an inch, to see (Tiana and Naveen / Snow White and the Dwarves / Belle / Hercules, Pegasus and Phil / Aladdin and Abu) running off in the distance, escaping.

You do know where they’re heading to hide, but revealing that to (The Shadow Man / the Queen / Gaston / Hades / Jafar) isn’t an option, so you just press your lips harder shut and straighten your head. Creepy crawlies squirm up my arm and my spine, feeling them close behind me. What I want more then anything right now is to run after them, my friends, but I’m the only chance they have at a distraction. This villain is hell bent, but lust’s a deadly sin for a reason.

And unfortunately, I’m their chosen suicide weapon.

“Like I am ever going to give you that kind of information.”

Not all this shaking is from anger, it’s from disgust.

Why me. Why me. All I want is to be good, and help my friends, and beat the bad guy together, but instead I’m the tart in the middle- and sometimes it’s hard to resist them.

There will always be a certain treacherous, wild charm to bad people, but God, if they never showed any interest, I wouldn’t be having this problem. I don’t want it!

Their other hand finds my opposite shoulder, gentle and patient, and forgiving somehow, and can I feel the heat of their front against my back, they’re so close. Can I run now?

“Love, I keep giving you this get out of jail free card, but you just don’t want to take it, will you? I just want this little bit of help in return, is that too much to ask?” They sigh, and I grit my teeth.

“Of course, it is, yes! - “

To my complete shock, the kiss they were apparently going to press on my cheek, lands horrifyingly on my lips when I turn my head, eyes blazing to them to say it is too much to ask.

They go with it.

Dr Facilier:

His hands on my shoulder and my arm immediately switch to cup my face, as he slips around me to be in front instead for easier access, pressing his mouth more securely over mine, as a shocked squeaky sound comes out of me like a dog toy.

And by some awful, evil, cruel force of the world, he’s really good kisser. Of course, he is. Because this isn’t hard enough already with him being freaken gorgeous. Sense escapes me, because I beautiful man is kissing me, and its good, and I’m a weak, weak, human being. I soften to his touch, and I tilt my head to go and kiss him back-

But then the sense comes back to me, and my eyes fly open as I jump back. “Oh no.”

I must look paler, because the Shadow man looks almost nervous when he looks at me. My lips feel hot. “Cher… “

“No, no!” I snap and he stops everything immediately. I feel redder the longer I stand here in his line of sight, just hot and embarrassed, and worried. So, in my confused and slightly panicked state, I turn around towards the direction the frogs escapes to, then turn back to Facilier, realise I don’t need to say goodbye, turn back to the escape route, turn back for half a second again, then turn back again finally. I slap a hand over my kissed lips, and start escaping off. “I have to go.”

“… till next time, Cher.”

Evil Queen:

It lasts only a few seconds, but when the ordeal, the kiss, the surprisingly lovely kiss ends, we look at each other in shock for a millisecond.

And only a millisecond. “Oh dear… Look what you’ve done, now.” Hilde touches her lips for second, then an uncharacteristic, evil smirk crosses her delicate features. It’s like she sees exactly what I’m thinking with those piercing eyes of hers, because I’m thinking just what she said.

Look what I did now.

Oh god, look what I’ve done now.

This is my fault!

They’re never going to forgive me now.

I step back from her personal bubble, and cover my mouth in shock, ad horror, and despair. They’re going to hate me.

I kissed the evil queen.

I look up at her -not sure why, - to her cover her horrible victorious look, with one of gentle concern for me. Fake concern for me. She takes a step forward, as if to take me in her arms again. “Oh, sweetheart… come here. I’ll make it better.”

This time, I don’t hesitate to respond to her affection. I whip around and run down the stairs of the tower, away from her. “No!”

Oh god. Oh god, what have I done?

I liked it.

Gaston:

Gaston doesn’t think- that’s what he’s known for actually. Besides being pretty.

Or maybe that’s just Belle and I.

Or maybe just me.

Anyway! He doesn’t think, and which is made quite clear when the next thing he does is instead of letting me go or acting surprised in any way, shape, or form, he sweeps me up against him in one rough movement with one of his arms and completely flattens his mouth to mine.

Oh Christ, my lips are going to bruise! And then people, or particularly in this case Belle, is absolutely going to know this happened.

I make a muffled yell sound against his mouth and pound my-puny, compared to him, - fist as hard as I bloody well can against his chest, and to my relief he lets me go. I drop down on my feet again, as he had gathered me literally up to him.

Using my fist, my wrist, and half of my arm, I savagely wipe my mouth. “Agh! What did we do?!”

“You, just experienced the magnificent kiss of Gaston!”

My cheeks are bright red and I feel hot, but still, I point a firm mummy finger at him. It shakes a bit, though, lessening the effect. “We never speak of this again.”

He smiles. “Now, darling, of course we don’t need to talk about it. In fact, you’re perfect for thinking that. Although, we might want to talk about other things- “

“No! No, no.” My pointer finger wilts, dropping all my weight onto my hip. “Oh, no. That isn’t what I meant.”

This may take some time.

Hades:

“Ah!” I squawk, breaking the kiss before either of us really let it sink in and take a couple steps back, shielding my mouth with the sleeve of my shirt. “Oh, hell.”

“Quite literally, sweetheart.”

I only glance at him in response to that, covering my ears pointedly, slowly, so he sees I will not be listening in to his mess while I’m freaking out.

It wasn’t a ‘real’ kiss, I guess. No, it wasn’t. So, does that mean I don’t have to tell Herc? It would be a lotta heartache for next to nothing, if I did… But if I don’t, it’ll just grow bigger and bigger… and it’ll eventually come out; That’s for sure. Herc will find out, and he’ll be hurt…

Because this is the monster that’s trying to hurt him, and his father, and who got the love of his life killed -she came back to life, sure, but I’m sure he’s still a little bit upset about it,- , and… and… this is his uncle we’re talking about.

The horribleness of what’s to come, when I tell him, dawns on me like a drawn out gong and the world suddenly feels much darker then before. I cover my mouth. “Damn it… “

As I was thinking, I must have taken my hands off my ears because when I hear Hades voice behind me it surprises me and I straighten my back immediately, feeling the shock race up my spine.

“I won’t tell him if you don’t, babe.”

Its, really, an enticing offer.

Jafar:

Before I can move to escape from the bastard myself, Jafar sweeps back from me on his own, exchanging the intimacy to flash me a long, creepy grin. I hug my stomach with one arm and run a hand through my hair with the other, looking at the ground instead of at him. Jesus.

What is Jasmine going to say? I can’t keep it from her, that’s for sure.

Wait, can I? …

No, no. Ridiculous thought. Moving on.

“Would you like to try again, my dear?”

“No!!?” I look incredulously at this man, before turning around because I cannot look at him anymore. I feel sick.

Not because of the sorta kiss with him. Not because I have anything against kissing him, in the first place.

But because its Jafar. He’s evil, he’s a creep, he’s trying to do horrible things to my friends, and the Sultan, and probably the whole kingdom.

And I liked it. I wanted more.

I still want more.

Oh god, am I a horrible person? I’m horrible. Before I realise what I’ve decided to do next, or even if I have made a decision or if I’m just scared, run off as fast as I can.

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years

Text

From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 36)

Azula reclines on the chair and stares up at the ceiling. She blows a strand of hair out of her face only to have it fall back where it had been, she does this several times more before it finally stays out of her eyes. She taps her feet together and drums her fingers upon her tummy--she is so thoroughly bored.

She hasn’t been this bored since father had sent her to spend a few idle days on Ember Island. Even that had ended up being more exciting than this. She slows her drumming and her frown deepens. She wonders if the baby knows that this is all its fault. She folds her arms across her chest.

When the front door opens Atsu bursts in first. He rushes past and darts up the stairs, scattering a trail of coins and cards behind him. Before she can ask, Hajime bursts out laughing. “Spirits, I’ve never seen someone look so angry to have some leisure time.”

“I was bored.”

“Still bored?”

She shakes her head, “confused.”

“I took him to one of his friend’s bending emergence celebration. He won a lot of goodies from the party games.”

“You celebrate discovering the ability to bend in the Earth Kingdom?”

“I think that it might just be a Wujing tradition.” She shrugs. “I got something for you.”

Her eyes sparkle with delight when he holds out a box of mochi. She reaches out and wiggles her fingers. It has been ages since she has delighted in her favorite treat. He sets it in her hands. “Thank you.”

He nods, “aside from boring, how was your day?”

She thinks for a moment. “Nope, that’s it, just boring.”

“Is it still boring?”

She pops a mochi ball into her mouth. “I have a feeling that it won’t be when Atsu gets back here.” She moves to make room for Hajime on the sofa. The man takes his seat and she props herself up against him. “Where is he anyways? With Caihong?”

Hajime laughs, “school, Rikka.”

“Oh, right. I forgot that children go to school.”

“What did you do?”

She shrugs, “went for a few years, then I was sent to war.”

“Right.” Hajime nods. “You were young…”

Azula nods, “most of us were.” Saying it out loud feels different. It makes it somehow worse. She holds her hand to her belly--at least her child won’t have to grow up hearing about a war. At least her child won’t be raised on war. Hajime cups his hand atop hers. “Can we talk about something else?”

“What do you want to talk about?”

Azula reaches for another ball of mochi. “What’s your favorite flavor?” She points to the treat.

“Green tea!” He answers immediately.

“I like strawberry.” She places the treat on her tongue.

“I guess I picked the right box then.”

Azula nods, “correct.” She nuzzles her head in the crook of his neck and closes her eyes. He squeezes her hand as a gentle breeze billows its way through the open window, bringing on it a perfume of jasmine and lily. She supposes that, for a boring day, it isn’t so bad.

That day she learns the value of doing nothing at all

.oOo.

Days later, she finally feels. And she feels everything. Everything horrible and unkind, that is. Everything that she thought she would never feel again. Everything and a touch of satisfaction and conquest.

She wishes that she could, at the very least, say that she had thought of showing mercy. But she hadn’t; mercy hadn't even crossed her mind. Granted, nothing had crossed her mind at all beyond a mechanical sense of duty. At least she can say that she had taken no pleasure in her vengeance. At least she can say that she feels sick over it. Sick and like she has just thrown away her last shot to be a better person. Her stomach twists and flutters. She can’t come back from this one. Whether she had felt it or not, hatred had consumed her, driven her, and ruined her. Deep down she is almost certain that hatred is all she has left even if she manages to burry it under strawberry fields and layers of clay. She is only hatred. Only a ghost of a woman who had died with her family. And for a moment she had fooled herself into believing that she was alive. That she could love and move forward that…

Sokka still keeps her company on and off and she can’t begin to understand why. She supposes that it doesn’t matter because she swears that he doesn’t look at her the same way anymore. And how can he after witnessing her kill a man? She is certain that he is looking at her the same way he had when they were younger--with fear, with caution.

It isn’t just Sokka. It is Zuzu and Mai and TyLee. And mother. She knows that everyone has remembered that she is a brutal and twisted monster. Agni, if Hajime were alive… she thinks that even he would look at her with disgust, he wouldn’t let Atsu see her anymore, he would take the baby from her. Her stomach lurches again; she wonders if Caihong has heard yet. Agni, she shouldn’t be around Caihong either...

She has made a perfect mess of her second chance.

Suddenly she wishes that she can have the empty numbness back. It is better than being nauseous with regret and anxiety. She thought that she had changed. She had fooled everyone, even herself.

She bunches in on herself and clutches her head. It hurts so terribly. Everything hurts. Everything is sad. She feels the bed dip and a hand on her shoulder. And this time she doesn’t yell at her mother to leave. “Where’s Sokka?” She asks, her voice soft and cracking. Usually he is the one to…

“I think that he’s checking on Caihong.”

This time she doesn’t snatch her hand away when her mother takes it. “I would have done the same thing.” Ursa speaks finally.

“What?”

“If someone had killed you or Zuko.” She replies. “I would have killed them where they stood. To kill a mother’s child…” she clicks her tongue. “It’s unforgivable.”

“There’s something wrong with me.”

Ursa shakes her head, “there would be something wrong if you didn’t detest that man for what he did to your family.”

“I killed him.” Just like she had shot the Avatar down before that. It has always been there, she realizes. Perhaps not a desire to kill but a startling indifference towards doing it if she has to.

“And he massacred an entire village. Several of them from what I hear. He and his band have a reputation.”

Azula sits up and presses her lips together considering the woman’s words. Perhaps in killing the man she had spared several others. Or perhaps his group will move forward without him.

Ursa seems to be doing some pondering something of her own. “You’ve done a lot on behalf of the Fire Nation military.” She comments. “Just like Lu Ten and your uncle Iroh.”

“Yes, and?”

“That’s how your father raised you.”

She gives a reflexive cringe, the feeling comes as a tickling in her tummy, an uncomfortable lolling.

“He raised you as a soldier.”

More than a daughter, he had done just that. “What are you getting at?”

“I’m trying to say that you have a sense of duty, Azula. There’s a difference between enjoying a kill and accepting that sometimes it’s necessary. Did you enjoy killing that man?”

“Yes, mother.” That’s just the thing, she is both prideful and shamed all the same. “I wanted him dead since the day I met him and he is dead.” But she wishes that she wasn’t thrilled. Wished that there wasn’t even a little bit of her that felt satisfaction.

“Do you think that I’m evil?”

Azula nods, “very much.” A small smile plays on her lips.

Mother gives her an eye roll and a light nudge.

“I don’t think that you’re evil.”

“What if I told you that I killed your grandfather?”

“I would tell you that I already know.”

Ursa sighs but pushes forward anyhow. “Do you know why I killed him?”

She has vague ideas. Little scraps that her childhood mind had collected for her.

“I killed your grandfather to protect Zuko.” She pauses. “Have you considered that you are not so much like your father? That you’re more like me?”

“I try not to.” She grumbles.

Ursa rolls her eyes. “If you wouldn’t either kill or die to protect your children, I would have a lot more questions for you.” She pauses.

“Did it bother you, mother? To know that you killed someone.”

Her face grows stern and distant. “You and Zuko are still alive.” She says at last. “I don’t regret it at all.”

“But did it bother you.”

She hums to herself, “at first it did, I suppose. But when I see Zuko alive and happy, it’s much less bothersome.”

“Atsu is dead. Juro never got to live.”

“But Caihong is a cheerful girl and there is a whole village of people like her that is still standing because that man didn’t have a chance to ravage it.” She pauses and gives Azula’s hand a squeeze. “I suppose that it’ll be hard to sleep sometimes but every day that you see Caihong playing with that badger-mole, it’ll get easier.”

“They’re afraid of me; Zuzu, Sokka…”

“They’re afraid for you.” She gives Azula’s back a gentle pat. “Come on, it’s been a while since you left your room.”

For once she listens to her mother. She gets to her feet and lets the woman lead her downstairs. Perhaps, others are looking at her with terror, but for once mother is not. For once, mother looks proud.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Sokka #Sokkla #Fanfiction

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thelittlestcheshire · 3 years

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if it weren't for you meddling kids...

A collection of seven playlists about my character’s inner-muse dynamics with one another.

playlist i: you’ll always be the one i love the most

a general balo and ches playlist

team (lorde) [not very pretty, but we sure know how to run things. livin' in ruins of a palace within my dreams. and you know, we're on each other's team] // drag me down (one direction) [all my life, you stood by me when no one else was ever behind me. all these lights, they can't blind me, with your love, nobody can drag me down] // brave honest beautiful ( fifth harmony ft. meghan trainor ) [don't go and waste your precious time, with all the nonsense on your mind. no, don't criticize yourself no more, you got a smile worth fighting for] // told you so (little mix) [girl, just come 'round mine tonight i've got wine and make-up wipes. i'll hold you (i'll hold you),. we can put the kettle on, talk 'bout how he's not the one. i told you but, i'm never gonna say i told you so] // friends (jasmine thompson) [who knows, who cares what we're gonna be. if you're near, i'm there. it will always be home, wherever we go.] // we belong (pat benatar) [we belong to the light, we belong to the thunder. we belong to the sound of the words, we've both fallen under. whatever we deny or embrace, for worse or for better; we belong, we belong, we belong together.] // safe & sound (taylor swift ft. the civil wars) [i remember tears streaming down your face when i said i'll never let you go. when all those shadows almost killed your light. i remember you said, “don't leave me here alone.” but all that's dead and gone and passed tonight] // buzzcut season (lorde) [cola with the burnt-out taste, i'm the one you tell your fears to. there'll never be enough of us] // unsteady (x ambassadors) [if you love me, don't let go. hold, hold on, hold on to me ‘cause i'm a little unsteady, a little unsteady] // i’ll keep you safe (sleeping at last) [don't be, don't be afraid. god knows, these mistakes will be made, but i promise you i'll keep you safe] // tell her you love her - acoustic (echosmith) [when she says she needs you, tell her you need her too. you tell her clearly, speak what your heart wants you to. tell her she's lovely, always tell her the truth. when she says she loves you, tell her you love her too] // nightingale (demi lovato) [oh, nightingale, you sing to me i know you're there. 'cause, baby, you're my sanity. you bring me peace, sing me to sleep] // deep end (ruelle) [what can i do when it's pulling me under, pulling me underneath?] // hold your breath (ruelle) [hold your breath, don't let go. i feel it coming] // my love won’t let you down (little mix) [we can sit on the edge of your bed, tell me all of the fears in your head. and i'll sing you your favourite song ‘til the pain and all the tears are all gone] // rainbow connection (sleeping at last) [have you been half asleep and have you heard voices? i've heard them calling my name. is this the sweet sound that calls the young sailors? the voice might be one and the same.]

playlist ii: #squadgoals (aka balo and ches are sharing the aux):

8+ hours of music the girls listen to when they hang out, please remember to shuffle!

playlist iii: and if you were drowned at sea i’d give you my lungs so you could breathe

a general balo and zander playlist

shaking heads (foxes) [and if i turn around, there'll be no light. i know the danger, but it's alright. pick up the light and keep it, darling. you know that i can tell] // bottom of the river (delta rae) [hold my hand, ooh, baby, it's a long way down to the bottom of the river] // hey brother (avicii) [hey, brother; do you still believe in one another? hey, sister; do you still believe in love? i wonder.] // i hope you dance (lee ann womack) [i hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean. whenever one door closes, i hope one more opens. promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance...] // my wish (rascal flatts) [i hope you never look back but you never forget all the ones who love you and the place you left. i hope you always forgive and you never regret, and you help somebody every chance you get.] // echo (foxes) [look into my eyes, do you see something to defend? spinning in the lights, will i grow old before i die?] // brother (kodaline) [if i was dying on my knees, you would be the one to rescue me. and if you were drowned at sea i'd give you my lungs so you could breathe] // get your wish (porter robinson) [so tell me how it felt when you walked on water, did you get your wish? floating to the surface, quicker than you sank. idol, idol] // icu {madison’s lullaby} (demi lovato) [sometimes i can see myself in the little things you do but i'm not afraid that you'll lose your way. 'cause i believe in you. you're gonna be the one who's strong enough, who can overcome, anything in your way]

playlist iv: i’m afraid of what i’m risking if i follow you

a general ches and zander playlist

into the unknown (panic at the disco) [what do you want? 'cause you've been keeping me awake. are you here to distract me so i make a big mistake? or are you someone out there who's a little bit like me, who knows deep down i'm not where i'm meant to be?] // carry you (ruelle & fleurie) [you are not alone, i've been here the whole time singing you a song. i will carry you] // bud like you (ajr) [kickin' in the basement, kickin' in the basement, hatin' all the same things too. if i need a pick-me-up, would you come and pick me up? i could really use a bud like you] // wilson {expensive mistakes} (fall out boy) [and when i say i'm sorry i'm late, i wasn't showing up at all. i really mean i didn't plan on showing up at all. don't you, don't you, don't you know i hate all my friends, i miss the days when i pretended. i hate all my friends, i miss the days when i pretended with you] // unpack your heart (philip philips) [show me something the rest never see. give me all that you hope to receive, your deepest regret dies with me] // where do you run (the score) [where do you run when you need to breathe? where do you run when you don't believe? where do you run when you can't face your fears? 'cause every time i run, i run to you] // twin skeleton’s {hotel in nyc} (fall out boy) [and there's a jet black crow droning on and on and on; up above our heads droning on and on and on. keep making trouble 'til you find what you love. i need a new partner in crime and you, you shrug] // maybe idk (jon bellion) [i wonder why i feel short when i know my money’s tall. i wonder why i miss everyone and i still don’t call. i wonder why i can’t run that fast in my dreams] // you are enough (sleeping at last) [you're enough, you're enough, you're enough, you are enough. these little words, somehow they’re changing us. you're enough, you're enough, you are enough. so we let our shadows fall away like dust] // midnight sun (philip philips) [oh my friend, look how time has changed the cracks in our skin. oh my friend, let go of the fear that’s inside your head. so stay strong, live on, and chase the midnight sun]

playlist v: beyond every bend is a long blinding end; the worst kind of pain i’ve known

a ches and zander playlist set during the aftermath of the jack posters with an alternating pov (track 2 is zander, track 3 is ches, etc etc. tracks 1 and tracks 12 are mutual)

the choice (gustavo santaolalla & alan umstead) // burning in the skies (linkin park) [i'm swimming in the smoke of bridges i have burned, so don't apologize i'm losing what i don't deserve] // the good in me (jon bellion) [one temptation sparked this, now i can feel the darkness. it's my own fault, but you had this planned. all of me, you take now, like criminals and shakedowns, yeah, you make me forget who i am] // another brick in the wall, prt. 3 (pink floyd) [i don't need no arms around me and i don't need no drugs to calm me. i have seen the writing on the wall, don't think i need anything at all] // bad blood (taylor swift) [did you think we'd be fine? still got scars in my back from your knives. so don't think it's in the past, these kinds of wounds they last and they last] // no light, no light (florence + the machine) [and i'd do anything to make you stay. no light, no light, no light. tell me what you want me to say. you want a revelation, you wanna get it right. but it's a conversation, i just can't have tonight...] // that won’t save us (against the current) [how did we become so numb? we just let it come undone, and i just started giving up. but that won't save us] // hard to say i’m sorry (chicago) [it's hard for me to say i'm sorry. i just want you to stay. after all that we've been through i will make it up to you, i promise to] // believe (mumford & sons) [i don't even know if i believe everything you're trying to say to me] // second chances (imagine dragons) [quicker than lightning, whiter than bone. if you can erase it, then i can atone. oh these days, oh these days get heavy. i get older and life fades, but you remain] // swallow my pride (ramones) [loose lips sink ships, they said but isn't it always that way? swallow my pride, oh yeah] // roads untravelled (linkin park) [weep not for roads untraveled, weep not for sights unseen. may your love never end, and if you need a friend there's a seat here alongside me]

playlist vi: it’s mourning in america

a playlist for the luxor trio - balo, ches, and zander

heathens (twenty one pilots) [we don't deal with outsiders very well, they say newcomers have a certain smell. you have trust issues, not to mention, they say they can smell your intentions] // morning in america (jon bellion) [we're secretly out of control, nobody says it. when the class president overdosed, we all pretended tt was rare, it was shocking and all the town was talking. yeah, we're secretly out of control and everyone knows. oh, it's morning in america] // the kids aren’t alright (fall out boy) [and in the end, i'd do it all again. i think you're my best friend. don't you know that the kids aren't al-, kids aren't alright?] // more than words (little mix & kamille) [i find peace in every story you told, i think of you, i'll never be alone. oh, it's true, you know i do. oh, i need you more than words can say. oh, you save me in ways that i can't explain. always been there for me, now i'll do the same] // family (mother mother) [and when you’re standing on the ledge i’ll pull ya down, put you to bed. and if you’re bleeding from the heart i'll come around, and clean it up] // beautiful people (ed sheeran & khalid) [we don't fit in well 'cause we are just ourselves, i could use some help gettin' out of this conversation, yeah. you look stunning, dear, so don't ask that question here. this is my only fear: that we become beautiful people] // immortals (fall out boy) [they say we are what we are but we don't have to be. i'm bad behavior but i do it in the best way. i'll be the watcher of the eternal flame, i'll be the guard dog of all your fever dreams. i am the sand in the bottom half of the hourglass, i try to picture me without you but i can't] // family (the chainsmokers & kygo) [when i am blind, in my mind i swear they be my rescue, my lifeline. i don't know what i'd do if i, if i'd survive my brothers and my sisters in my life, yeah] // walking the wire (imagine dragons) [oh, the storm is ragin' against us now. if you're afraid of falling, then don't look down. but we took the step, oh, we took the leap and we'll take what comes, take what comes] // take it out on you (ruelle) [i don’t wanna take it out, take it out on you, on you. it feels like i'm breaking down, watching my words cut you in two, in two. 'cause you are the only who saves me from myself when everything is caving. don’t wanna take it out, take it out on you, on you, but i do] // from now on (the greatest showman) [and from now on these eyes will not be blinded by the lights. from now on what's waited 'til tomorrow starts tonight. and let this promise in me start, like an anthem in my heart] // long live (taylor swift) [can you take a moment? promise me this: that you'll stand by me forever, but if god forbid fate should step in and force us into a goodbye. if you have children someday, when they point to the pictures, please tell them my name] // i hope you’re happy (blue october) [there will be days when you're falling down, there will be days when you're inside out. there will be days when you fall apart, someone else will break your heart. they're never gonna hold you back, i'm always gonna have your back so try to remember that...]

playlist vii: those meddling kids

a playlist for balo, ches, collen, and zander - and their friendship

on my way (phil collins) ['cause there's nothing like seeing each other again, no matter what the distance between. and the stories that we tell will make you smile, oh it really lifts my heart], more than a band (lemonade mouth) [i never knew you could take me so far. i've always wanted the home that you are, the ones i need] // i lived (onerepublic) [hope that you spend your days but they all add up and when that sun goes down hope you raise your cup. i wish that i could witness all your joy and all your pain, but until my moment comes, i'll say...] // i’m gonna be {500 miles} (the pretenders) [if i get drunk, well, i know i'm gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you. and if i haver, yeah, i know i'm gonna be i'm gonna be the man who's haverin' to you. but i would walk five hundred miles, and i would walk five hundred more just to be the man who walked a thousand miles to fall down at your door] // tongue tied (grouplove) [take me to your best friend's house, ‘goin' 'round this roundabout, oh yeah. oh, take me to your best friend's house; i loved you then and i love you now, oh yeah] // i’ll be there for you (the rembrandts) [no one could ever know me, no one could ever see me. seems you're the only one who knows what it's like to be me. someone to face the day with, make it through all the rest with. someone i'll always laugh with, even at my worst, i'm best with you, yeah] // drag me down (one direction) [if i didn't have you, there would be nothing left, the shell of a man that could never be his best. if i didn't have you, i'd never see the sun, you taught me how to be someone, yeah] // miss americana & the heartbreak prince (taylor swift) [it's you and me, that's my whole world. they whisper in the hallway, “she's a bad, bad girl.” the whole school is rolling fake dice, you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes. it's you and me, there's nothing like this, miss americana and the heartbreak prince. we're so sad, we paint the town blue, voted most likely to run away with you] // sharp edges (linkin park) [sharp edges have consequences, i guess that i had to find out for myself. sharp edges have consequences, now every scar is a story i can tell. we all fall down, we live somehow. we learn what doesn't kill us makes us stronger] // family (mother mother) [a motley crew, a rodeo. a goddamn zoo, a circus show. but oh don't you know how it goes, we are all walking each other home] // the story of tonight (hamilton) [raise a glass to freedom, something they can never take away - no matter what they tell you. raise a glass to the four of us, tomorrow there’ll be more of us - telling the story of tonight.]

#I debated if I should wait or not #because this was legit the post I was working on today when the admin note came up #but... have the meddling kids playlists #all of my heroes died all alone ( musings )#all you cool people better leave now 'cause it's about to happen ( balo | zander )#musings ( playlists )#musings ( friends )#I'mma reblog it to the other two in a more spaced out manner but yeah

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nuggets-and-french-fries · 3 years

Text

Taking Chances: Chapter Twenty Three.

Note: Alright, before you read this, I want to say a huge thank you to @hitmeonmytspot for her help with this chapter. She has been such an amazing help with this story as a whole and I’m grateful to her.

I have had this chapter written for so long and I’m so excited to finally share this with you. Of course having had this written and waiting for a while, I had to alter it and make sure that everything flowed nicely. I’m so happy with how this and I hope that you are too.

Right, here is your fair warning. You may possibly need tissues. I myself cried while fixing this up so be warned, it is sad.

Enjoy!

===

Within a few weeks, Nicola had cut off communication with Taron because she knew that Natascha meant business when she said to back off. It was for the best because Nicola’s health had plummeted and the morning (all day) sickness had really set in. Tina had even offered to take Jasmine when Nicola didn’t have the energy to chase after a four year old.

Brenna had also been a great help. She would come over with ready made meals, come over to clean Nicola’s house and do other various things that Nicola needed help with. Along with that, Brenna was Nicola’s source for all things Taron. She had made Brenna promise that she would tell her when Taron was back in Aberystwyth. True to her word, Brenna let her know when Taron was back. Even though he had been gone for awhile and was still with that god awful woman, Nicola grew more and more excited to tell him about the baby.

Granted she should have told him sooner but with his flippancy when she brought up possibly being pregnant, she knew he wasn’t in the right frame of mind. Now knowing that he was back however, gave her the confidence to finally grow a pair and tell him.

Nicola had been very grateful to Tina for the stern talking to she gave her. Without it, Taron wouldn’t have the ultrasound pictures she was giving to him. Nicola couldn’t help but wonder why on earth she had skipped the ultrasounds. Yes, she still didn’t want to believe that she was pregnant but getting to see the baby squirm happily in her belly gave her a level of excitement she never thought she’d have. She was getting there but wasn’t quite ready to fully accept everything just yet.

Nicola got out of bed, thankful that her extreme sickness seemed to finally be wearing off a little bit.

“Ok, I need to tell Taron today so please don’t make me feel ill.” Nicola said as she examined her growing belly in the mirror.

Feeling a tiny flutter deep within her belly, she took that as her body telling her that everything was going to be ok. Either that or it was a swift kick from the baby to tell her to hurry up and just tell their daddy already.

Taking a calming breath, Nicola gathered everything she needed and headed to the car.

Although the drive to his house from hers usually didn’t take that long, she felt like this particular journey took forever.

The whole way there, she went over the note she wrote to Taron in the D.I.Y pregnancy journal she had put together for when she saw him next.

Taron,

I didn’t want you to miss anything so I made this for you.

-Nicola.

Could she have been nicer about it? Sure she could have but she honestly didn’t care.

When she finally arrived, she groaned to herself. She really didn’t want to tell him but she knew that she had to, especially after seeing how Natascha was with him the last time they had seen each other. I mean after all, she did want the baby to have a father, the father she never had.

Blowing out a puff of air, Nicola got out of the car and made her way up the front path.

“What?” The woman on the other side of the door asked rudely as she answered the door.

Nicola took note of the shirt this woman was wearing. It was the shirt Nicola had given Taron when they dated.

“I’m looking for Taron. Is he here?” Nicola asked, hugging the journal to her chest tightly.

Natascha judgingly looked Nicola up and down before slamming the door in her face.

Nicola scoffed and rolled her eyes. She wasn’t going to give up and knocked again but this time, there was no answer.

“That’s fine, it’s not like I have anything to tell him.” Nicola sarcastically shouted at the door, marching back to her car.

Upon hearing her voice, Mikey ran from the kitchen to the front door.

“Don’t run Michael.” Taron warned from his spot at the hob. Mikey slowed down a little bit but still hurried to catch the woman he heard

“Was dat Lina?” Mikey excitedly asked Natascha. The woman bent down to his level, smirked and took the last juice box Taron had just given him out of his hand. Mikey looked as though he wanted to cry.

“No.” She replied simply, taking a drink. Natascha walked into the room Taron was in and saw the angry look in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” She asked with pseudo concern.

“First of all, I bought those for my son and second of all, why did you just lie to him?” Taron asked.

“Oh come on, he can share and what does it matter? She’s a bitch. You are both better off with me.” Natascha said. Taron had never been so disgusted in his life.

One week later, Nicola was staring at her 18th week of pregnancy. Unfortunately this meant that even more symptoms had flared up along with the all day sickness. It was pure torture for her and she couldn’t see an end to it. It was so bad that for the days that she couldn’t move from her bed, she had Jasmine stay with Tina.

Although Tina had been a huge help to her, it would have been nice to have a certain someone’s help. Though as he still had no idea about the baby, she could kiss that idea goodbye.

“I’ll be right back.” Taron called as he raced upstairs to grab his forgotten wallet. Natascha groaned.

Mikey put his shoes on and when he realized they had laces, he looked up at the woman in front of him. He was scared to ask her for help because he knew that she’d yell at him just like she had when Taron wasn’t around. She always told him that he was stupid and that he was a waste of space. Of course not knowing how to respond, he would always agree with her.

“Stop staring at me.” Natascha snapped.

“Help please?” Mikey asked timidly. Natascha scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“You’re an idiot. Tie them yourself.” She answered. This time though, Taron was standing on the stairs when Natascha replied. He wanted to listen a little longer to make sure he was really hearing what he was hearing.

“I need help.” Mikey answered, close to tears. Taron almost ran to him but Natascha opened her mouth.

“No wonder your mother killed herself.” Natascha replied. That was the last straw. Mikey burst into tears. It wasn’t his fault that his mother had been in an accident that took her too soon. Taron was beyond angry. If he thought he was angry last week after the woman had taken Mikey’s juice box, he was mistaken. The father rushed to his son’s side, picked him up and held him close.

Natascha stormed off and left the father and heartbroken boy alone. If Taron though they were going on their date now, he was wrong.

Not long after that, Tina arrived to pick Mikey up but the scene she was witnessing completely broke her heart into a million pieces.

“What’s happened?” She asked gently. Mikey reached for her and she took him and held as close as Taron had been.

“Please take him. I’ll explain later.” Taron said as he raced up the stairs to Natascha. He was going to end this once and for all.

“Come on sweet boy, let’s tie your shoes and we can meet grandpa and the girls at the park.” Mikey nodded and let Tina fuss over him.

“Are you four ready to head home?” Tina asked as the kids came running toward her.

The woman and her husband had taken the kids to a park close by so that they could run off some steam before Jasmine and Mikey had to go home.

“I want to sleep over.” Mikey whined, knowing that more than likely Natascha would still be at the house.

She was mean and yelled at him when Taron wasn’t around and made him feel like Taron hated him as well.

“How about this, you and Jasmine can sleep over on Friday night after school.” Tina suggested.

Mikey hung his head and trudged over to the car with Jasmine trailing behind.

The drive home was silent apart from the music coming from the radio.

Tina felt bad and knew that Natascha didn’t like her grandson, she had seen it and had stepped in when the brunette took it upon herself to ‘discipline’ Mikey for not coming to the dinner table quick enough when they came over for a family dinner one night.

When they pulled up to the house, Tina saw Taron’s vehicle and knew that he was most likely inside talking with Guy who had decided to walk home earlier.

“Let’s go play.” Rosie said as they entered the house.

“Make sure that you clean your mess up after.” Tina called, walking past the stairs and into the kitchen.

“How are you mam?” Taron asked as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

Tina looked at her son and saw the redness around his eyes. She knew that he’d been crying.

“What’s happened?” She asked.

“I ended things and it didn’t go too well.” Taron admitted. Tina notes the forming bruise on her son’s face.

“I’m sorry son but I’m glad that it’s over. I didn’t like her. No one did.” Tina replied, wrapping her son in her arms. Taron leaned into her touch and closed his eyes.

“Hi.” Jasmine greeted cheerily as she walked into the kitchen.

Taron and Tina broke apart and looked at the girl warmly.

“Hello Jasmine.” Taron responded.

“Mikey wants to know if he can sleep over tonight.” She asked sweetly, slightly rocking on her feet.

“Did he send you down to ask?” Taron asked.

“No.” She said with a cheeky glint in her eye.

“Are you sure the little monkey didn’t put you up to this?” Tina questioned, seeing her grandson hiding behind the kitchen door.

“I’m sure.” She answered.

“Michael, we can see you.” Tina announced.

Mikey shuffled behind the door a bit more until he was sure that he was hidden even more.

Taron chuckled and went over to his son.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Taron whispered as he peaked around the door.

Mikey looked up at him and grinned.

“I don’t want to go home.” Mikey replied. Taron didn’t blame him, he didn’t either

“How about we go pick up some pizza, grab your sleep stuff and you can stay the night.” Taron whispered again.

Mikey nodded vigorously.

“But, only if it’s ok with your nan.” Taron continued.

Mikey peaked around the door and Taron’s legs to look at Tina who had a bright smile on her face.

“Daddy said it was ok.” Mikey said.

Tina nodded and looked at Jasmine.

“Shall I ring your sister and ask if you can stay the night as well?” Tina questioned.

“Yes please.” Jasmine shouted excitedly.

“I’ll call her if you want to get the ready made meals together.” Guy offered, knowing that his wife had made freezer meals for Nicola to have when she was able to eat.

“Ready made meals?” Taron asked as he and Mikey entered the kitchen.

“Things have been really rough for her health wise and I thought since she can hardly get out of bed with the morning sickness, I’d make her some meals so that she can eat when she’s able.” Tina explained, not realizing that Taron still had no idea about the baby.

Hearing the words morning sickness made his heart stop. It had to be some kind of joke as Nicola would have told him, surely.

“I know she’ll appreciate that.” Taron replied, playing along.

“I just remember how bad it was for me with Mari and how bad Kate was with Mikey. Poor Nicola shouldn’t have to suffer the way we did.” Tina answered.

“I still feel bad for Kate having it so bad.” Taron said truthfully.

“Right, she said she’d really appreciate us taking Jasmine for the night if we are sure that it’s ok.” Guy said as he walked into the kitchen.

“Of course it’s ok. Taron can leave the kids here, go and get their things and drop off the dinners to Nicola.” Tina replied.

Taron nodded and left soon after.

“What are you doing here?” Nicola asked when she saw Taron at her front door.

“So it’s true then. You are pregnant.” He said with an accusatory tone.

“I don’t have the energy to fight right now Taron. Whatever it is you are here for, I don’t want to hear it.” Nicola said weakly.

“Mam made these for you and asked me to drop them off as well as collect Jasmine’s overnight bag.” He replied, walking into the house without Nicola telling him that he could.

He went to the kitchen while Nicola followed behind, holding her belly protectively.

Nicola rolled her eyes but instantly regretted it when she felt her stomach turn. She took a couple deep breaths and that seemed to help but only microscopically.

“Thought you could keep the baby from me did you?” Taron questioned with a raised voice.

“No, I tr-ied to te-” Nicola started before having to take a couple more deep breaths. This time though, the breaths didn’t help. She quickly turned to the sink and proceeded to empty her stomach with the little contents it held. As much as he didn’t want to, he attempted to help but she shrugged him off the best she could with her current situation. When she was done, Taron turned the tap on and washed everything away, even though she had basically told him to fuck off.

“You can leave now.” Nicola said hoarsely as she leaned on the counter taking a few calming breaths..

“Not until you tell me why you thought it was ok not to tell me that you were pregnant.” Taron answered.

“Taron, can we please not do this now. I don’t feel well.” Nicola asked, feeling herself needing to lay down

“No, I want to know why you kept this from me.” Taron scoffed.

“I tried twice, Taron. The first time I tried was when you said and I quote ‘fucking hell yes, could you imagine’. The second time I tried was last week. I went to your house but the girl you’ve been seeing answered the door and refused to let me talk to you. I didn’t have and still don’t have the energy to chase after you anymore.” Nicola explained.

“You could’ve called.” He snapped.

“I wanted to but I was scared that you’d have this reaction or that you’d see my name on your phone and not answer the call but in saying that, I made this for you.” Nicola said as she threw the journal that she’d made at him.

“Why do you think I’d want this now?” He asked.

“Do what you want Taron, I don’t care. Jasmine’s bag is at the front door all ready to go. Please leave now.” She replied, waddling tiredly to the sofa.

Taron rolled his eyes, grabbed Jasmine’s bag and left in a huff.

“What the hell is wrong with you now?” Tina huffed when Taron walked into the kitchen

“She’s Pregnant Mam!” Taron shouted exasperatedly.

“You knew that already Taron, you must have, I mean you certainly gave me the impression that you did” She replied. Taron stood there seething. His nostrils flared and his eyes grew two shades darker.

“So, you knew” He shouted angrily.

“Keep your voice down. Yes I did” She warned him, not appreciating the attitude he was feeding her.

“And didn’t bother to tell me?” He responded. Tina looked up at him and gave him her full attention.

“You gave the impression that you knew, so why would I tell you if I thought you already knew?” She spoke, trying to remain calm as taron’s rage grew tenfold.

“Well obviously not” He cried as he threw his arms in the air.

“Taron, I know it’s a lot to take in, but please don’t do anything rash. I really like her and I know Mikey adores her. Do not push her away please.” She urged, feeling a little desperate.

“That’s not your decision. She lied to me, kept my baby from me.” He seethed.

“Ask yourself this Taron, why do you think she did that? She is not stupid. She knew you would find out eventually, she’s not spiteful either. Nicola must’ve had some good reason. What do you think that is? When you find that out then you should go from there. My feeling is that you have some apologies to give yourself. You slept with her Taron and both of you failed to take responsibility and use the proper precautions. Anyway you need her and Michael needs her too, now more than ever, I would hate to see you throw away something over a lack of communication.” She sighed.

“Like I said Mam, this is up to me. It's my business and if it comes to it I will fight for custody” Taron said firmly, his face now pure red.

“Taron, sometimes I wonder if I made a massive mistake with you. How can you even say things like that. Imagine if your father had said that about me? You have no idea how that young woman is feeling. She is looking at having and raising a child alone and the way you have been behaving recently, I can see a lot of reasons why she might not think you have it in you to be what that baby needs. Maybe the attitude you’ve been feeding people is exactly why she didn’t tell you. She’s scared Taron.” Tina ranted with disgust at the way Taron was being so dismissive.

Taron rolled his eyes and crossed his arms whilst scowling at the ground.

“Taron, I love you. But I am extremely disappointed in you right now, I can’t bear to look at you. You need to leave.” She sighed.

“Leave?” He said shocked

“Yes. I can’t believe any son of mine, would behave like this, would talk like this and treat women the way you have been treating them. This is not how I raised you and until you talk to Nicola properly and with respect whilst understanding how your own behavior has contributed to this, I can’t be around you. I’m going upstairs and I don’t want you here when I return” Tina said as she walked out of the room.

Taron grabbed his coat and stormed out.

That night as Taron laid in bed, he thought back to how frail and fragile Nicola looked when he saw her. She looked broken and knowing that he was essentially the cause of that cut him deeply.

He grunted angrily and threw the covers from his body; storming to the kitchen to make himself a pot of coffee and read the journal Nicola threw at him hours before.

“Alright pickles, here goes.” Taron said as the cat sauntered into the living room, joining his annoyed owner on the sofa.

Taron opened the book and was met with the note Nicola wrote. His heart dropped. He didn’t really didn’t think that Nicola would do this, especially how he treated her.

Taron flipped to the next page and saw a black and white image nicely placed above a little message.

Hi daddy,

I can’t wait to meet you!

The baby was nothing but a small blob in the middle of the image but it still made his eyes water. Taron took a long drink of his coffee while pickles made himself comfortable against Taron’s thigh. Composing himself, Taron flipped through more pages until he came to the most recent page.

Hi daddy,

Are you proud of me?

In that moment, Taron knew that he had royally fucked up.

His eyes scanned the ultrasound picture from the front of the book and he felt nothing but pride.

How could he be such a prick?

===

Tag List: @sarahegerton96 @dangerouslcve @aberystwythboy @stronglyobsessed @hitmeonmytspot @cilldaracailin @jobanan23 @superthiccthighssavelives @hauntedflamingo @dragonstarre @jolovesfandoms @lovefortaron89 @fuseburner @rocknrollmadden @dogmom2014

#taronegerton #taronegertonimagines #its just pickles #Single Father #taking chances

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tkstrrand · 4 years

Text

Michael Guerin week 2020

Ao3: Day Two prompt - “There’s something you should know,”

Title: When the truth hunts you down.

Summary: While telling Alex about the aliens, Michael decides it's time to finally reveal to him what actually happened to Rosa Ortecho and why Liz left that summer and the part he played.

Preview:

Alex knew about aliens and was now involved; the truth would come out eventually. He had to tell him.

Michael shifted on the seat, pulling at his trouser leg for a moment, “There’s something else,” Michael quietly said, hoping that Alex wouldn’t hear, and he could avoid this conversation.

“Oh good,” Alex said sarcastically, smiling at Michael. He could tell Alex was nervous, fidgeting with his hands in his lap.

Michael swallowed, “There’s something you should know…” Michael started, staring up at the smiling Alex, committing it to memory, unsure after he told Alex this, he would ever get to see it again. “That night…when your dad found us,” Alex instantly tensed up, his jaw clenching. For a moment Michael got distracted by the wave of rage that went through him for Jesse Manes, Michael cleared his throat, “The night Rosa died,” He said.

*Keep reading for full fic*

Michael stepped closer to Alex, his head tilted to the side, “Do you wanna know who I am? Or what I am?” He asked, a small sad smile on his face. He watched as Alex scanned his face, his eyes flickering from his lips to his eyes.

He licked his lips, his eyes glassy, blinking a few times before answering, “Yes,” his voice confident and sure.

Michael gave a small nod, reaching up and running a hand down his face. Alex knew, Michael didn’t know what he knew, but he knew something.

Michael turned away from Alex, walking over to the chairs that were next to the air streamer. Michael grabbed them and pulled them across the floor, sitting them across from each other. Michael nodded towards the chairs, leaning against his one, “You should probably sit down,” Alex hadn’t moved from his spot, his chest moving up and down rapidly. He gave a simple nod, walking over to the chair to sit down. Michael walked around and sat in his chair, he leaned forward on his knees, “What do you know?” He asked, not sure where to start, the air around them felt thick with tension.

Alex opened his mouth, but no words came out, he shook his head a little, “I don’t know,” the confusion was clear in his face. Michael sympathised, even though he was an Alien himself even he got overwhelmed sometimes, he couldn’t imagine finding out about Aliens and that your ex something was one as well.

Michael nodded, “Well I’ll start from the beginning.” Michael said, trying to give Alex a reassuring smile, ”Guessing you know about the June 14th, 1947 crash.” Alex nodded, his eyes fixated on Michael, “We came on that ship, we don’t know from where or who with.” Michael said, looking down at his jeans.

“Then 50 years later Max, Isobel and I woke up in the Turquoise Mines from pods, they’d kept us alive the whole time and we gestated till we turned around 7.” Michael watched as Alex’s eyes widened slightly before his face went back to neutral. Michael knew that Alex had perfected his calm neutral face over the years, so it was no indication as to how Alex was actually feeling or thinking, Michael continued, having already started.

“We had no idea how’d we got there or anything like our memory had been wiped, some trucker found us and call the sheriff.” Michael licked his lips, finding them dry, he looked off to the side, “Later that year Max and Isobel got adopted by the Evan’s and I…I went into the foster system,” Michael said, still not looking at Alex. He decided to skip over his colourful history in the foster system, deciding to focus on the alien aspect of the story, “Then when I was 11, I came back to Roswell,” He said. Alex nodded again, Michael took in a breath, leaning forward, “You want me to keep going?” He asked.

Alex took a moment, clearly actually thinking over the question, “I think so,” he said, clearly trying to lighten the mood but Michael needed an actual answer. He didn’t want to overload Alex, who was getting 50 years of information in a few minutes. Alex seemed to understand, sitting up straighter in his chair, “Yeah,” he said.

“So quick run-down of our abilities,” Michael said, this clearly peaked Alex’s interest, he pulled his brows together in confusion. “Max can heal people, Isobel can get into people’s mind, influence them and I’ve got telekinesis; blowing stuff up with my mind,” Michael finished.

Alex didn’t say anything, he was just staring ahead at Michael. He gave a slow nod, his mouth slightly open, “Okay,” he breathed quietly.

“Okay?” Michael laughed, “That’s all you got to say?” He said, in all the times he had imagined Alex finding out he was an alien this was never how he predicated Alex would react.

Alex gave a small smile, “I’ve known about aliens and the crash for a while I’m just…processing the rest,” He said, his eyes going down to the ground. Michael could practically see Alex’s mind working, sorting all the information he had just gathered into sections and processing it. It was then Michael realised he had missed something, Michael felt his stomach cramp, his heartbeat increasing. Alex knew about aliens and was now involved; the truth would come out eventually. He had to tell him.

Michael shifted on the seat, pulling at his trouser leg for a moment, “There’s something else,” Michael quietly said, hoping that Alex wouldn’t hear, and he could avoid this conversation.

“Oh good,” Alex said sarcastically, smiling at Michael. He could tell Alex was nervous, fidgeting with his hands in his lap.

“I know she was killed by an alien,” Alex said, letting out a breath like he thought this was all Michael was going to tell him.

Michael just nodded, he took in a large breath, trying to expand his lungs and get more air in but finding it difficult. “After I left yours, I got like a…feeling, like something was wrong with Isobel, Max got it too,” Alex didn’t ask any question, just looked at Michael. He had been hoping Alex would interrupt, that he could stall. “I turned up at the Turquoise Mines and found her…” Michael looked down at his shoes, scuffing them across the floor.

“Michael, whatever it is, you can tell me,” Alex reassured from across the fire pit. Michael wanted to laugh, Alex had no idea what he was saying, what Michael was about to tell him.

Michael looked up at Alex who was still smiling at him, here goes. “I found her with Rosa, Kate and Jasmine,” Alex gave smile a confused look, the smile was still there but only for a moment. Alex’s smile slowly fell from his face, his furrowed brow loosened as he started to process what he was being told, “She killed them,” Michael finally said.

Alex’s face was blank, no emotion, no indicating of anything. “She had been suffering from these blackouts, it was almost like it wasn’t her,” Michael said, shaking his head. “I wanted to call the cops but Max said, Max said we should cover it up, that the police would ask too many questions and discover us…so we did,” Michael could still see the girls lying on the floor, could still smell the fire and gas from the car. Michael blinked his eyes quickly, having not noticed that they grew wetter. “Once Isobel woke up, we told her I had lost control of my powers and had crashed the car with the girls In it,” Michael breathed, he was nearly finished, could almost find out the damage he had done to Alex’s and his relationship. “Max and I promised each other that we’d stay here in Roswell to keep an eye on Isobel,” Michael finally stopped talking. Alex’s face was no longer neutral, his brow was pulled together again, his eyes wide and watery.

“That’s why you didn’t go to UNM,” Alex quietly said, his voice trembling slightly. He looked away from Michael, glancing down at the floor, shaking his head, “That’s why you changed that summer,” He breathed, running his hand through his hair. "I..." Alex trailed off, clearing his throat as the words got stuck, "I always thought it was my dad's fault that you changed," Alex confessed, staring down at the floor, Michael went to speak again when Alex continued, "My fault," Alex finished, a small stray tear escaping his eye.

Michael let out a shaky breath, his face screw up, "Alex, what happened to me that summer..." Michael shook his head, "That wasn't your fault." He assured. What Jesse Manes had done certainly had helped Michael on his way to 10 years of drinking and fighting, but it wasn't what caused it. Michael could feel the mixture of understanding and confusion radiating off of Alex, who’s hands were now resting on the back of his neck, his elbows resting on his knees. “I-I wanted to tell you but I couldn’t,” Michael said and damn it couldn’t be more true. Michael had spent weeks wanting to tell Alex, going over in his mind what he would say, but ultimately realising that Alex would never understand. “I didn’t want you to hate me,” Michael confessed, “but I get if you do,” Michael sadly said.

Alex’s hands dropped from his neck, he let out a deep breath, “I don’t hate you, Michael,”

It was Michael’s turn to look confused, “We blamed Rosa Ortecho for the deaths of those girls, we sat by for 10 years while everyone hated her and her family, Liz included,” Michael said, driving the point home.

Alex nodded, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, before letting his land rest on his knee. “Am I saying it was the right thing to do? No.” Michael looked down at the ground, “But..” Michael pulled his head back up, looking at Alex who didn’t have hate in his eyes or disgust. “You were scared kids, who didn’t want to be dragged off by the military,” Alex said, “You were trying to protect your family, your sister,” Michael looked away, feeling as his lower lip trembled faintly, Michael bite the inside of his cheek, “Is it fair what happened to the Ortecho’s? No, they didn’t and don’t deserve to be blamed for what happened to Kate and Jasmine, their innocent, and so is Rosa,” Alex affirmed, “But you can’t go back and change it, so you’ve gotta do what you can now, to help who you can,” Alex gave a small smile, the corner of his lips just peaking up.

Michael was speechless, his mouth hanging open slightly. Michael reached up and quickly wiped his eyes. Michael had suspected many responses from Alex, but not that. He looked up at Alex who hadn’t run away; who hadn’t yelled but had been understanding and honest. Honest, the relief that Michael had felt was short-lived, “What?” Alex said, clearly noticing the way Michael’s face changed, “What else happened?” Alex asked, leaning forward on his knees, the apprehension clear on his face.

“Remember when Liz left that summer?” Michael started, having kept these secrets for so long he’d forgotten he was holding them, the only reminder being the heaviness on his chest and mind.

“Yeah, a few days before Rosa’s funeral,” Alex said, clearly not understanding the connection.

Alex deserved to know everything, everything Michael had done. “Isobel made her leave,” He confessed, Alex leaned back on his chair, his face visibly distressed. “Max was going to break and tell Liz what happened, and we-we couldn’t let him,” Michael started to ramble, afraid he had said too much, that this was too much for Alex, “So Iz got into her mind and made her leave, it was the only way to protect us all,” That was how Michael had rationalised it when Iz had asked him about it, how he’d rationalised it over the years.

Alex looked down at the ground, his face wasn’t calm, his brow was furrowed and his lower lip trembled a little. Michael wanted to reach out but knew better, even before this conversation their relationship was fragile, one wrong touch or word could destroy it beyond repair. Alex finally looked up at Michael, his eyes almost pleading, “Did-did you do the same to me?” He asked, “Did you make me leave, so I wouldn’t find out,” Alex gasped. Michael just looked at Alex, Michael leaned as close as he could while still staying on the chair.

“I would have never made you leave for war Alex,” Michael said, his voice solid; he needed Alex to believe this. Michael kept Alex’s glassy gaze, after what felt like an eternity Alex relaxed back into his chair. Michael didn’t say anything, worried he would shatter the seemingly comfortable energy that had fallen over them.

Alex looked off to the side for a moment, wiping the corner of his eyes discreetly before looking back at Michael, “She couldn’t influence my dad not to be a dick?” Alex said with a small smile.

Michael gave a relieved laugh, feeling as some of the air came back into his lungs. Michael leaned back on his chair, “Unfortunately, the person has to want to do the thing before she can influence them,” He joked, one corner of his lip twitching up into a smile.

“Definitely no luck there then,” Alex joked back, resting his head against the back of the chair, the small smile still on his face before he pulled his head back down to look at Michael.

Michael rested his hands against his thighs, pulling the threads on the end of his jumper. He glanced up at Alex, “Well know you who I am,” Michael sighed, he slightly tilted his head to the side, “You still glad you asked?” He jokingly asked, but there was a tinge of seriousness in his voice that even he could hear.

Alex just smiled back, “Yeah, I am,” he said simply and honestly. Michael had dreamt about this day, the day Alex would finally know who he really was, he’d also had nightmares about this day. What had happened hadn’t been close to his dreams or his nightmares, it had been real, and in some way perfect. Alex was still here, he didn’t hate him, he wasn’t scared of him, and at this moment, Michael couldn’t ask for more.

#mgweek20 #guerinweek20 #michael guerin fic #malex fic #rnm fic #alex manes fic

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