#update i so lied i missed it but i do love all of you. izzy please look away im sorry i'm gonna ramble life update in your tags sorry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tiny-taepot · 4 years

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wander 2 (Jimin)

Genre: angst

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: the more distant he gets, the more his eyes start to wander

a/n: I tried my best to quickly update this so I hope you enjoy reading the next chapter, I can’t wait to post the third chapter! - Joy

Wander // Wander 2

“I think he’s cheating on me…”

“WHAT?!!!” Izzy screamed, catching the attention of everyone in the cafe. You felt your cheeks heat up as you could feel everyone staring at you. “Izzy shush!” you cried as she tried to contain herself. “Sorry y/n, I didn’t mean to make a scene but how could he do that to you? Do you have proof?” She asked as you shook your head, you felt for accusing Jimin without any evidence of him cheating on you but inside you knew something was wrong. “I don’t have proof but he told me he went out to lunch with some new girl at his work place and he didn’t come home after his lunch with her, I think he might be seeing her.” You explained as Izzy clenched her fists. “What an asshole, how dare he play you like that.” She growled as she grabbed your hands. “You need to leave him.”

You knew that the best thing to do was to break up with Jimin, but you didn’t want to leave him, you loved him too much. You felt stupid, how could you let yourself endure so much pain for a boy, but somehow you knew that Jimin was worth all the pain. You wanted to fight for his love.

Jimin awoke to an empty bed, he shrugged knowing that she had probably had to leave for work. Jimin sighed before he looked at his phone screen, he was expecting multiple missed calls and texts from you, but when he opened his phone he saw no messages or calls. He felt a little upset that you weren’t concerned that he was out all night, Jimin felt bad about all the cheating but he just wanted a break. He knew it was wrong to mess around with other girls especially since he loved you, but he wanted to experiment with other girls before he settled down with you. The fucked up thing about this whole affair is that Jimin wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, he just wanted to have his last few girls before he committed to you forever. The boys scolded him and told him that it wasn’t right, and he knew that, he just didn’t know how to stop.

(12:03) Namjoon: Yo, when are you coming?

Jimin looked at his phone and rolled his eyes, he forgot about the whole game night that Namjoon had been planning for months.

(12:04) Jimin: Isn’t it at five? Why do you need me to come now?

(12:05) Namjoon: EVERYTHING HAS TO BE PERFECT >:(((

Jimin laughed as he grabbed his coat and headed out.

You headed over to Namjoon’s house to help with setting up, you had brought some snacks with you and some of your boardgames, you knocked on his door as he opened and smiled and hugged you. “y/n! I haven’t seen you in so long, how have you been?” Namjoon asks as he helps you grab the snacks and games into the house, you softly smiled “everything has been great!” You lied as you thought about your suspected cheating partner. “Where’s Jimin?” You asked as you looked around to see everyone but Jimin. “Jimin isn’t here yet, probably still on his way.” Namjoon replied, setting down your stuff on the table with the rest of the games. “What? I thought he slept over...” You said as everyone looked at you confused, Namjoon’s smile dropped as he shook his head. You felt your heart drop to your stomach, a little part of you knew that he was cheating and now it really felt like it was true. “Oh, I’m so sorry I forgot, Jimin went to go sleepover at another friends place.” You lied as everyone softly chuckled. Suddenly, you heard the door open and Jimin walked in, his hair was messy and he looked like he was hungover. “What took you so long?” Namjoon scolded, “you look like shit, go clean yourself up” Namjoon yelled as Jimin shrugged and headed to the bathroom, not even acknowledging you. “I don’t know how you live with him.” Namjoon laughed as you dry chuckled back.

Jimin went to the washroom and cleaned his face with some cold water, he brushed his teeth and used his fingers to comb through the messy hair. While he was finishing up, Jin walked in, “where did you go last night?” Jin asked as Jimin looked confused. “I was with y/n? At my home?” Jimin responded as Jin hit him on the arm. “Are you lying? y/n thought you were sleeping over here, what the fuck is going on with you?” Jin asked he was angry at Jimin for lying to you, he knew that if something was going on he would want to know. Jin had always thought of you as a little sister so he was always protective of you, he introduced you to Jimin and was a little worried of you two dating since he knew about Jimin and his flirtatious past. “I just want you to know that if you hurt y/n, I will hurt you.” Jin threatened as he walked away.

It was a couple games later and you and Jimin had no spoken to each other, you didn’t want to confront him yet, you wanted to be sure. You wanted to speak to him badly, but you feared being right so you decided to ignore him. Jin noticed that you were being super quiet, which was not like you, you were usually super talkative during game night. The tension was high and nobody wanted to address it, Jin wanted to ask you privately but he was scared of making you angry so he decided to keep quiet.

Jimin and the other boys had left and you decided to stay behind to help Namjoon clean up, you were picking up the cans as Namjoon was putting the games back onto his shelf. “Hey, are you alright? You were so quiet tonight.” Namjoon asked, giving you a concerned look, you faked a smile as you shook your head. “Yeah, everything is alright, just a lot on my mind.” You replied, you couldn’t tell Namjoon, you didn’t want to ruin what Jimin and Namjoon had and you knew that Namjoon would isolate Jimin from the group if he knew that he was cheating on you. Namjoon didn’t believe you when you said it but he knew it wasn’t best to push things, he just smiled softly back. “Okay, but just let me know if something is going on, okay?” You nodded in response.

You got home, and set your bag onto the couch, Jimin was watching TV. “Where did you go after game night?” Jimin asked, it was the first time you heard his voice in a while. “I helped Namjoon clean up,” you replied as you took off your shoes and headed to sit next to him on the couch, leaving a cushion space between the two of you. “You know you don’t have to do that for my friends.” Jimin replied, you felt hurt that he thought that the boys weren’t your friends too. “I was helping Namjoon, because he is my friend,” you answered sharply, causing Jimin to widen his eyes, he was not used to hearing this tone from you. “Maybe, you’re only helping Namjoon because you have some other intentions to be alone with him.” Jimin accused, you could feel the jealousy in his voice, you were shocked that he would even accuse you of being unfaithful when he was the one disappearing to sleep over at unknown places and ignoring all of your texts. Jimin couldn’t help but feel a little bit angry, even though he knew he didn’t have any right to be, he didn’t like the thought of you being with anyone but him.

“I can’t believe you are accusing me right now when you are the one sneaking off!” You cried as Jimin’s eyes open wide, he hadn’t realized you knew. “It was only one time! She didn’t mean anything to me!” Jimin confessed, as you felt your heart drop, you didn’t actually think he was cheating on you and now he told you and you didn’t know what to do.

“You cheated on me?” You asked as you felt your face heat up, you looked at his face as you could see him freaking out. Jimin didn’t realize that you weren’t referring to his affair...

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the--blackdahlia · 4 years

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It’s So Easy (And Other Lies) Chapter 21

Title: It’s So Easy (And Other Lies) Chapter 21

Summary: Stevie Adler likes Duff McKagan. She has for a while now, but she is convinced Duff doesn’t like her that way. Duff likes Stevie, but so does their new bandmate Axl Rose.

Chapter Warnings: Language mainly

AN: This will be the last update for a bit, because this was the last fully written chapter I have. Thank you for all the feedback!

The boys had escaped the madness, the van they were in pulling up in the back of the hotel late at night. Slash was holding his top hat in his hand, after the driver told him to take it off to avoid detection from pissed off concert goers. No one spoke the entire ride back to the hotel, just exchanging glances and such. But once they were there, shit hit the fan.

“Why the fuck did you jump into the crowd?” Izzy asked.

“Shut the fuck up Stradlin,” Axl growled, lighting up a cigarette.

“You started a fucking riot!” Duff pointed out.

“ I didn’t start the riot. The lame-ass security did,” Axl shook his head. “Why don’t you just go fuck your wife or something and leave me alone.”

“Guys, chill,” Matt sighed. “Let’s just go get a drink or something.”

“I’m going to go check on Stevie,” Duff told him, needing some space from Axl for a bit. It seemed that Izzy and Slash did too, because they followed him to the elevator while Dizzy, Matt, and Axl headed to the hotel restaurant and bar.

****

“This was a fucking nightmare,” Axl groaned as they took their seats in the bar area. “I can’t believe this.”

“I mean, their security wasn’t stopping it,” Dizzy pointed out.

“I probably wouldn’t have jumped into the crowd if it wasn’t for fucking Izzy,” Axl snapped.

“You’re kidding, right?” Matt asked. “What did Izzy have to do with the guy videotaping the concert?”

“It’s not because of that,” Dizzy laughed. “It’s because Izzy’s getting laid and it’s not by Axl.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Axl snapped.

“Why does he have you so riled up for?” Matt asked. Axl stared at him for a moment. “Axl?”

“I, uh, he...he’s my best friend and I want what’s best for him,” Axl whispered before taking a drink of his beer. Dizzy and Matt looked at each other, knowing there was something the redhead was leaving unsaid.

****

“Fucking hell,” Izzy shook his head. “What the fuck is Axl’s problem?”

“Lots of anger in a small body?” Slash suggested. “And he’s a redhead.” He left one more thing unsaid, about how the frontman was jealous every time he saw Izzy with someone else. But, he knew it wouldn’t do any good, because Izzy had confessed his feelings to Axl once, and it didn’t exactly go over well.

“I’m getting real tired of his shit,” Izzy sighed. “And he’s at the only fucking bar in the hotel. Guess I could tap into the mini-fridge if I wanted to.” Duff opened the door to his and Stevie’s room while the two guitarists talked. He didn’t see his wife around, but he saw the TV on, a news broadcast about the riot playing, and a note laying on their bed.

Duff,

I don’t know when you’ll see this, but I’m going to the hospital. It might be nothing, or it might be baby time.

Love Stevie

“Fuck!” Duff ran out of the room, causing Izzy and Slash to halt their conversation and look at him. “Fuck!”

“What’s wrong?” Izzy asked. Slash looked around.

“Where’s Stevie?” He asked. Duff gave him the note as he ran to the elevator. Slash read it real quick.

“Shit!” He looked at Izzy. “Stevie might be in labor. Let’s go!” Izzy nodded and they ran after Duff. They went back to the lobby. Slash decided to be nice and let Axl, Dizzy, and Matt know what was going on while Izzy and Duff went to the front desk.

“My wife,” Duff breathed. “She was going to the hospital to possibly be in labor.”

“Oh! Yes!” The girl nodded. “A very nice policeman escorted her because I guess there was a riot or something.”

“What hospital?” Duff asked. By this time, Slash had come back with the other three band members following him, all three looking worried.

“Uh the closest one is University…”

Duff didn’t even hear anything else she said as he ran out of the hotel. The road crew was loitering around when the band ran out. Thankfully, the van that had brought them back to the hotel was still sitting there.

“Someone fire up this van now!” Duff yelled. “Stevie’s at the hospital! I have to get to her!” The guys all looked at each other before one of them started the vehicle and the band got in. Duff was a nervous wreck as they made their way towards the hospital. Slash put a hand on his shoulder.

“Everything’s gonna be okay man,” Izzy spoke up.

“I just don’t want to miss it if this baby comes now,” Duff told them. “I won’t forgive myself if I miss it.”

****

“Well, Mrs. McKagan,” The doctor smiled at her. “It seems like you’re suffering from false labor.”

“False labor?” Stevie asked. She had read something about it in one of the books her mom had suggested for her, but she didn’t really think it would actually happen.

“It can be brought on by stress. It’s called Braxton-Hicks, and it is labor without the labor part.” The doctor explained. Stevie nodded as she absorbed all the information.

“Is this going to happen a lot?” Stevie asked.

“As long as you keep the stress to a minimum, the next labor pains you feel should be actual labor,” The doctor laughed. “Outside of that, you’re free to go. Just take it easy, okay?” Stevie nodded and got her things together. She was leaving the room and thinking about how to get back to the hotel as Duff ran into the hospital.

“Stevie!” Duff called out. Stevie stopped and looked up, smiling when she saw her husband. “What’s going on? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

“Oh, uh, it was something called Braxton-Hicks,” She told him. “It’s like false labor caused by stress.”

“Stress?” Axl asked. “What do you have to be stressed about?”

“Well, it seems that someone started a riot at the place where my husband,” She nodded towards Duff. “And brother,” She nodded towards Slash. “Were playing.” Her eyes darkened a bit as she stared at Axl. She knew how hot-headed he was.

“Oh, yeah…” Axl looked around, rubbing the back of his neck. “Who did that, huh?”

“Come on,” Duff wrapped an arm around her shoulders, keeping her close to him. “Let’s get back to the hotel. We’ll order room service.”

“You okay?” Izzy asked Stevie as they headed back out to the van.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” She nodded. She let Izzy give her a hug before they all were on their way back to the hotel. It wasn’t a very far drive, and, thankfully, they were going to be staying there until sometime in the afternoon, which gave everyone plenty of time to rest after the events of the night.

The van pulled up at the hotel and they all got out, Duff keeping Stevie at his side as they made their way in. Everyone split up, heading back to their rooms. Slash went with Duff and Stevie though. He wanted to make sure everything was okay, just like her husband did.

“Want some food?” Duff asked Slash as he settled himself in the chair in the room.

“Yeah,” He nodded. He looked over at Stevie, who kicked off her shoes and sat down on the bed, looking over the room service menu. She was tired, and hungry, and just so many things at once that she didn’t even want to try to sort out. “So, what now?”

“I was thinking about that,” Duff spoke up. “I think that when we get ready to leave St. Louis, we should put Stevie on a plane to Seattle.”

“What?” Stevie asked, staring at them.

“That’s a good idea,” Slash agreed.

“Uh, no it's not,” Stevie stood up. She marched over to them. “The doctor said to take it easy. How can I take it easy when I hear about shit like what happened tonight and I have no way of knowing if you two are okay?”

“Stevie,” Duff started.

“Don’t Stevie me!” She growled. “How would you feel if you were back home and I was on tour and you saw a fucking news report about a riot in the same place I was? And you couldn’t call me or anything?”

“But…” Slash tried to interject.

“No. I am staying,” She rubbed at her belly. “Now somebody order me and peanut here food please.” Duff had a smile on his face as he got the menu and ordered room service.

Forever Tags: @dekahg @marvel-af-imagines @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogarukes @xxwarhawk @sandlee44 @shatteredabby @caswinchester2000 @jennifer-reaper-shadowhunter @lauravic @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @teller258316 @horrorpxnk @tommyleeownsme @marvelismylifffe @mrslogansixxpixx

Guns n Roses Tags: @duffshairdye @slashscowboyboots @hauntedapricoteggsclam @bitter-13-suite @arianareirg @lucyboytom @ozzy-dumbass-of-darkness

It’s So Easy Tags: @str4nge-haze @viralwolf02 @overlyobsessedfangirl

#it's so easy and other lies #guns n roses #duff mckagan #steven adler #duff mckagan x steven adler #fanfiction

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itsanerdlife · 5 years

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Smoke 2/16

Pairing: Ronin!Clint Batron x Black Cat!Reader

Warning: Violence. Torture mentioned. Death mentioned. Nightmares. Lies. Seducing. Sexual humor. Broken and damaged pasts. Killing. Possessive Male. Struggling to open up. Secrets. Dark past.

A/N: ENDGAME SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN IT, DON’T READ THIS!!!

After the snap, the avengers split apart. Finding their own ways to cope. Clint found his under a new identity, Ronin. Getting revenge for those they lost. For the family taken from them. The evil left when heroes were wiped out, it became his mission to take out the evil. All while keeping a list of those who could help, if needed one day. Clint stumbles upon a woman, Cat. She’s a mystery in the dark. One happen stance meet, one night, gone like smoke.

After the second snap, setting the world right again. Fury is looking at those kept tabs on. When Cat appears on the screen, nobody know a lot about the mysterious woman who haunted Clint’s dreams and stole his favorite T-shirt. There’s a chance she’s in trouble, can Clint find her, convince her there is more, that he can save her? But is he the cause of what’s after her? Just what mystery is she keeping all to herself? Or is he the one she’s trying to save?

Seven Years Since First Snap – Two Years Since Second Snap – Two Years, One Months Since Cat –

Clint

The team settles in around the meeting table in the newly remodeled and updated compound. Two years after the second and technically third snap, it took a lot to rebuild even with Tony’s snappy fingers and money. The ground was destroyed from the fight, from the battle, the war, they somehow, thankfully came out on top in. The team together again, but they were missing some still. Thor having taken off, and Tony being practically retired for the most part now that he had Morgan.

“New recruits?” Steve asks taking a seat next to Clint.

“Couldn’t hurt.” Tony points out, sipping his coffee.

“Romanov and Rhodey kept tabs during the snap, just to be safe, in case those who were left needed more strength.” Fury nods.

Tony brings up the holograms they move in a slow circle around the center of the table. Images of multiple people, those they thought could come in hand at some point. He watches the small clips, photos, and trace amounts of information with each one as they slowly pass.

“I know some of them aren’t our typical bread and butter, but we were desperate at the time.” Nat comments as she scrolls through the list of names.

His eyes scan each face that crosses in front of him. Bright white hair, and a rolling stones tee. He sits up instantly, from the slouch he had been in his seat. His sudden motion makes Peter and Steve look over. He quickly swipes bringing the hologram back.

The photo of her is from a distance, head tipped, hair falling over her shoulder, her eyes trained on something else. It’s the video that might as well have reached into his chest and ripped out his beating heart. She’s strutting down the side walk, a smirk on her lips, hair tied up, wearing his Rolling Stones tee she’d stolen on her way out his window. Her head turns, eyes focusing on the camera, as if she knew she was being recorded.

The video starts again, on a constant loop. It was like she was smirking back at him, staring into his soul with those mesmerizing grey eyes. He doesn’t pay attention to the team watching, confused by his actions. He stares, watching the video over and over.

“Barton do you know her?” Steve asks slowly, as if he was cautious to speak.

“I met her during the snap.” He swallows.

“How do you know Cat?” Peter asks, his head tips in that innocent puppy type of way. The same way Morgan did when she wanted something she wasn’t supposed to have. Clint turns looking at Peter, confused how he knew Cat as well.

“She was following me, at the same time someone else was. She killed him. I caught her.” Clint rattles off.

“Like highlander?” Tony smirks. “There can only be one Barton stalker?” He asks.

“I guess so.” Clint shrugs.

“Wait, so how does Parker know her?” Buck asks from across the table.

“Um. she beat me up.” Peter mumbles, looking a little embarrassed.

“Why?” Nat smirks.

“She was robbing a jewelry shop.” Peter nods slowly. “I tried to stop her.” He avoids eye contact.

“She whooped on you?” Sam smirks.

“She knocked me out cold.” Peter nods, pushing his mouth together.

“Why was she following you, Barton?” Wanda tips her head, watching him with a smirk.

“She was paid to find where I live.” He explains, his eyes falling back on the barely a profile they had on her. “I was causing a lot of trouble for very touchy, powerful people.” He smirks repeating the same line she used on him.

“What did she do?” Steve asks.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, zoning out. “She was gone before morning.” He spoke softly, falling into the memory of the only night he replayed over the last two years.

“Morning?” Tony’s brow snaps up. Clint’s head snaps up, blinking.

“Huh?” He looks around, forgetting for a brief moment he was in the meeting room with the others. The others smirk at him, Fury nods, slowly starting the spin of the hologram again.

--------

Clint

He sat on the couch, tablet in hand, his eyes fixed on the screen. Watching the same little video over and over again. A book lands in his lap, before Morgan clambers up next to him, curling herself up under his arm and into his side.

“Uncle Clint, read me a story?” She asks, peering up at him. Her dark brown hair the same as Tony’s before it started greying, rumbled in her adventure to get ready for bed.

“Huh?” He looks down at her. Noticing the book in his lap. “Oh yeah, of course I will.” He nods, setting the tablet down on the couch next to him.

“Who is that uncle Clint?” She asks, looking at the screen of the tablet. She’s six going on seven, and just as nosey as her father.

“Someone I think I need to help.” He admits, looking down at her. He brushes her hair back, smiling at the little love in his life.

“Is she in trouble?” She asks watching him.

“She might be.” He sighs. She nods slowly.

“You should help her uncle Clint.” She wiggles off the couch, taking her book with her.

“Where are you going?” He laughs, as she starts to leave the living room.

“Ask Petey to read to me.” She looks back, a small smile on her face.

“Tell him to read you two.” He grins at her.

“Tay.” She skips out of the room in search for her older brother Peter.

He picks up the tablet, staring at the screen for a few more moments. He stands, leaving the living room as well. Finding Nat sitting in the sunroom, watching the rain come down, book in her hand.

“Nat?” He steps into the room, still holding the tablet. Her head comes up, looking over at him.

“Barton?” She smirks.

“Can you run a facial scan through the city?” He asks.

“Who are you looking for?” She sets the book down.

“Her.” He holds up the tablet for her to see Cat.

“You going to tell me about that Morning, comment?” She lifts a brow smirking.

“Run her face. Let me know if you find her.” He chuckles. He leaves the tablet with her, heading back through the compound.

He stops in Peter’s doorway, Morgan curled up on his bed with him. Picture books on the bed next to them. Peter’s got a book in his hand about caterpillar, he looks up.

“Hey Clint.” He smiles, his little sister snuggled up, looking beyond content.

“Could you look for Cat?” He asks, leaning on the frame. “Let me know if you find her?” He shrugs.

“I’ll start in the morning.” Peter nods.

“Thanks Peter. Night munchkin.” He smiles at Morgan; she blows him a kiss.

“You know she’s a wild card, right?” Peter asks watching him.

“So am I.” Clint chuckles, pushing off the frame.

“Good point.” Peter snorts, going back to the story his sister picked out to be read for the night.

-----------------------------

Everything Peaches 2/6/19: @xmtd5 @mo320 @all1e23 @courtmr @avxgers @eliza-kat @izzy--lee @irepeldirt @dumblani @nishanki1 @crist1216 @alyssaj23 @allyp1023 @joannie95 @kolakube9 @rileyloves5 @sarahp879 @sea040561 @sexyvixen7 @pcterpvrker @pigwidgexn @doctoranon @abschaffer2 @bookluver01 @teller258316 @callie-bear15 @nickimarie94 @wandressfox @amandab-ftw @carostar2020 @henrietteoaks @nea90sweetie @circusofchaos @itsagalaxystar @bettercallsabs @miraclesoflove @lucifersnipnips @queenkrissy11 @sadyoungadult @destiel-artemis @paintballkid711 @isabelcrichards @iwillbeinmynest @sweet-honey15 @chanelmadrid13 @mellxander1993 @killerbumblebee @spookygrantaire @geeksareunique @supernatural508 @sammysgirl1997 @itzmegaaaaaaan @booksbeforebois @childishhoebinoo @elizabethaellison @mariekoukie6661 @pure-princess-97 @capsheadquaters @samanthasmileys @youclickedthislink @futuremrsb-r-main @lovemarvelousfics @notyourtypicalrose @petersunderoos96 @loving-life-my-way @buckystolemyheart @booktvmoviefangirl @supernatural-girl97 @abbypalmer14-blog @fanfictionjunkie1112 @meganlikesfandoms @awkwardfangirl2014 @supernaturaldean67 @xqueenofthecraziesx @queenoftheunderdark @writingaworldofmyown @supernaturallover2002 @daughterofthenight117 @mustbeaweasleyginger @sprinklesandsugarcubes @whothehellisbucky-1930 @verymuchclosetedfangirl @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @ocaptain-mycaptainmorgan @wonderlandfandomkingdom @crazy-little-thing-called-buck @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @stupendoussciencenaturepanda @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @supernatural-strangerthings-1980

Marvel Tag List 2/6/19: @lumelgy @dottirose @jcc04220 @rockagurl @a--1--1--3 @mizzzpink @jade-taillia @coley0823 @widowsfics @bookluver01 @thelostallycat @shield-agent78 @dtftheavengers @ilovetvshowsblog @capsheadquaters @iamwarrenspeace @thefridgeismybestie @whenallsaidanddone @deanwinchestersrifle @fandomsstolemylife00 @daughterofthenight117 @lilmissperfectlyimperfect

Clint ‘Destory Me, I’ll Thank You’ Barton: @ml7010 @coley0823 @yavanna80 @lakamaa12 @boltsgirl919 @feelmyroarrrr @mrsseizetheday @honey-bee-holly @marvelfansworld @mybarnesmyhero @the-real-mary-jane @dumbbitchenergytm @agentsinstorybrooke @x-whyareyoureadingthis-x @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

Smoke: @2s0uls @xxloki81xx @csigeoblue @demonlover87 @capandbuckylvr @marvelfansworld @natromanoffsboys @barton-you-dummy @thefandomimagines @thosesexytexasboys

#Marvel #Clint Barton x Reader #Avengers #Clint x Reader #Smoke #Marvel Fanfiction #Clint Barton Series #Avengers Fanfiction #Ronin Series

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 5 years

Text

Holy Queen | Writing Update

Hey People of Earth!

Y’ALL. Last week I had some insane writing mojo and pumped out this chapter for MOTH WORK. If you missed the previous updates, make sure to check them out in the shiny new Moth Work tag for context!

This chapter was *a joy* to write. I’ve had this chapter in my head since May, and it’s been one of my most anticipated writes! It’s also the start of part two of the book, which is now split up like this:

As you can see, 1-5 (or part one) belongs to Harrison and is called Eyes, and I’m hoping 6-10 (give or take) will be for Lonan.

Today’s update is focused on chapter six, aka HOLY QUEEN.

This is the first chapter I’ve written in Lonan’s head, and it was such a fun experience? I actually added his whole POV just for this chapter lol (DO IT FOR THE TEA). Drafting this chapter only took about two days which is WILD. I mostly wrote it over a few writing sprints with @sarahkelsiwrites which I don’t often do because I like really taking my time with drafting, however, I think it was super helpful in forcing me to really sit down and write without a break for 20 minutes--something I’ve had trouble doing for a while.

What’s it about?

This chapter follows Lonan wandering through Vegas, unaware of where he is and who he is. Because of this, the entire thing is written in a super disconnected state of conscious (which made it fun to play around with). The chapter starts when he stumbles into a cathedral during the early hours of the morning and meets Winona, a local woman who strikes a conversation with him.

The writing bit:

Like I said, I wrote this chapter almost exclusively during writing sprints! This was the least painful drafting experience for a chapter that I’ve had for this book to date, and I think this is because Lonan’s head is so much more interesting to be in than Harrison’s and that’s the TEA. This is mostly because he sees the world in a really warped way, especially because he’s so disconnected. Harrison has a consciousness to him that’s too immediate (and normal) for me to handle at some times, lol all I want is the “I could be a ghost” vibe POV character and Lonan is definitely fitting that.

The chapter itself consists of only three scenes that all have a really strong religious element to them. Though Lonan isn’t religious this chapter showcases his struggle with the remnants of his relationship with God (with that said, if that’s sensitive for you, tread carefully with the excerpts).

The chapter itself gets its name from the Catholic prayer Hail Holy Queen. @sarahkelsiwrites suggested it to me because it’s a prayer of the rosary (which becomes increasingly more important throughout the chapter). I really wanted a title with a religious context, and after re-reading this one, I felt it worked well for the chapter. I modified it because I only do two-word titles for this project, and I think it works well in the context of the story. This is the prayer if you’re wondering why I chose it (cuz symbolism tho):

Hail, holy Queen, Mother of Mercy! our life, our sweetness, and our hope! To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve; to thee do we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley, of tears. Turn, then, most gracious Advocate, thine eyes of mercy toward us; and after this our exile show unto us the blessed fruit of thy womb, Jesus; O clement, O loving, O sweet Virgin Mary.

Excerpts:

Holy Queen is broken into three scenes:

Scene A

Lonan aimlessly wanders Vegas and approaches a cathedral where he meets Winona

Scene B

Lonan gets a ride from Winona back to her place because it’s raining and he’s been wandering through it without realizing

Things get wild

Scene C

Lonan, finally more lucid than the night before realizes a few things: he’s in a city without a way to get back home, and he’s also! in a random! lady’s! house! He is subsequently beat up by a very angry husband

(I was supposed to enjoy this very much and instead very much pitied him my badddd sorryyyy rip eyeballs)

I’ll share a few paragraphs from the first scene. Here’s the opening paragraph of the chapter ft. Lonan being #dazedandconfused:

Lonan’s heartbeat and the church bells gong in a staccato so identical, he doesn’t notice he’s walked an hour and a half away from the motel. He doesn’t remember why he’s walking or when he started, he doesn’t remember the last time he slept or his mother’s maiden name. He doesn’t remember when it started to rain, or what rain really is, or what the water cycle looks like, or which stage he’s currently in. He doesn’t remember how many sisters he has, or the difference between astronomy and astrology. He only remembers the sequence of how to pray the rosary: ten Hail Marys, one Our Father. Hail Mary. Our Father. Hail Mary. Our Father. This is what guides him to the cathedral. Lonan isn’t Catholic anymore. He maybe never was. He can’t even remember this. He knows he’s a sinner. God will never let him into heaven.

He’s greeted by no one when he walks up the front steps and into the foyer, and the wall clock reading 2:33AM gives him a vague inclination of why. Lonan can’t remember the last time he went to church, or if his family went to church at all, but he walks toward the pew at the front like it’s natural to him and kneels. The sanctuary lamp dangling from the ceiling flickers above the tabernacle, and the air smells like damp wood. His hands tremble in prayerful submission, but he speaks to no one—no God, no deity, no mythologized woman. The act of religion comes easily. His mother could’ve done this as a teenager. A skirt below her knees. Her blouse precariously pleated and then tucked into the waistband. Lonan knows nothing about Izzy, but she would’ve been a good Catholic. She’s just as unbelieving as he is.

This next bit is Winona sparking up a conversation with #dazedandconfused Lonan:

The woman crinkles as she moves—it’s because of the fabric, because of her handbag. She sets all of her things down, the handbag first, and then the jacket, loosening it from her shoulders to reveal a tattooed patch of skin just above her chest. He stares because he doesn’t know where else to look—he can’t remember how mass works, so she becomes his surrogate priest.

“Are you new?” she asks. Her voice sounds like a chorus whistling.

To Catholicism? To life? To this church? To Nevada? Lonan doesn’t understand what she’s referring to, so he answers the only way he can think to: “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” She laughs, but when he doesn’t, her smile fades. “Are you lost?” she asks.

“I’m praying,” he says.

Her hair is curly and chemical red. It bounces at her shoulders, and swishes with the rosary clinging between her breasts. She wears a lace camisole and three rings on one finger, all different stones: amethyst, peridot, sapphire. Her nails match her hair and glimmer in the candlelight like blood. He studies the tattoos lining her chest—the rushed outline of a lion, the smudged glimpse of a koi fish, a star circled and pressed into her skin like a brand.

“You’re a satanist,” Lonan says. He stares at that last tattoo, the wobbly outline like she drew it on herself.

This is one of my favourite parts of the chapter, particularly the line in the edit:

Lonan doesn’t understand why she’s asking him all these questions. Her eyes are blue, and her roots are growing back in—a dull brown instead of the hot red. She smiles like his mother, and rests her elbow against the edge of the pew. He stares as she adjusts the elastic of her camisole back over her shoulder, and follows his gaze like she’s expected this.

“I can’t remember.”

He can’t feel his tongue. He can’t feel his heartbeat. He can’t remember how he got like this—if it’s all an illusion, or if someone has cast a curse that’s made him this way. He doesn’t remember if this woman is supposed to be good looking—he’s only distracted by her fingernails, her tattoos, the stack of rings on her single index finger. He reminds her of someone but no one in particular—maybe just women, his mother, his ex-girlfriends, his unknown sisters.

The next one has so? much? symbolism? I am English class:

He doesn’t know why he gets up or when, just that he ends up at the altar. A bible sits on a gold mount, and he fingers the pages, smoothing the ink until it transfers onto his thumb. He doesn’t understand how to read the words—he doesn’t remember how literate he is, just that the ink transfers. He brings the blackened thumb to his face and presses it into his cheek, and if it weren’t for the sudden touch at his back, he’d forget about the woman at the pew.

“Are you a journalist?” she asks. Lonan smooths his finger again over the page, erasing words like father, lie, unnatural, flesh. The words don’t move as much as he wants them to—they don’t reorder even when he begs them to. He isn’t religious and never has been, but at the altar he wants nothing more than God’s forgiveness.

“My father is a journalist,” he lies. His father is dead, he means. His father is the Satanist. “Adam.”

“That’s your father?”

“My name.”

He can’t remember why the woman has removed her jacket. He turns to look at her.

“Are you supposed to be here?” He doesn’t know why he asks this. It just tumbles out of his mouth like his fake cover story, his fake name, the fake words smudged under his fingernails.

“We’re all supposed to be here. I’m Winona.”

“What city is this?”

She leans against the altar, closer to him. She smells like jasmine and vanilla. Moonlight pools through the skylight above her and carves out her outline. This is what distracts him from noticing the hand she slides against his shoulder.

“Vegas. I’m a local. Are you sure you aren’t a journalist? All the high school kids keep insisting this place is haunted. You’re trying to get a story?”

“I don’t believe in God.” Lonan stares at the moon from the skylight. The rain blurring it like organic pointillism. Her fingertips bleed through the jacket, not his jacket—Harrison’s jacket. The thought makes him flinch. “Do you believe in God?”

She chews her lip. “Is that a trick question?”

Lonan turns away from her and the Bible, descending the stairs back toward the pew.

“Why did you come to the church?” she says, her voice growing quieter and quieter the closer he gets to the exit. “If you didn’t believe in God?” He hears her shuffle to grab her things and catch up with him, and he lets her, slowing down until she reaches a half step behind him.

“I wanted to make sure,” he says.

That’s it for this update! Writing this chapter really sparked my love for this project again, and I’m excited to see where it goes from here because I’ve basically run out of pre-planned beats to hit! I’m almost at 25k, which is also very exciting!

Thanks for reading, pals!!

--Rachel

#writing #writerblr #writeblr #amwriting #fostered #mothwork #writingupdates

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timelordthirteen · 5 years

Text

The Don’t Fall in Love Job 5/?

Mr. Gold/Lacey French, Explicit overall

Summary: Con artist Lacey never planned on staying in Storybrooke, just long enough to let the heat cool off in Boston from her last job. She also never planned on falling in love with the town’s eccentric pawn broker, Mr. Gold, but here she is living a life built on nothing but lies. Well, almost nothing… This is what happens after it all falls apart.

Chapter Summary: Lacey runs out of options and makes a tough choice, and Gold gets a surprise.

Notes: Sorry it took so long for this update. This chapter is a little rough in the beginning because Lacey is going through some shit right now, but all will be well. Please heed the updated tags and the warning below.

Warnings: Pregnancy, Unplanned pregnancy, Abortion references

[AO3]

Present Day…

The afternoon was gray and hazy with a light, misty rain that didn’t fall so much as hang in the air and wait for you to walk into it.

Lacey ran a hand through her hair, frowning at the dampness that came away on her palm, and then wiped it on her jeans as she crossed the street. She took a deep breath, grateful to be out of the sterile smell of the clinic. The lingering scent of disinfectant and the harsh fluorescent lights had combined into a vague throbbing in her temples. They’d offered her pamphlets and given her forms to fill out, poked and measured, but none of it really made a difference.

The nurse’s words kept repeating in her head. “You have choices, sweetie.”

Except she didn’t. She couldn’t got forward or backward, not while this was happening to her. There was some jewelry left from that thing down in Baltimore, the incident she’d come to Boston to get away from, but after that there would be nothing. It was a stash for an even rainier day than the one that had driven her to Storybrooke, but for once in her fucked up life, Lacey was out of options.

A woman pushing a stroller passed by her, and she looked away. Her mind kept trying to block out what was happening, the swelling in her lower abdomen that made her jeans fit tight, and the tiny blob of tissue inside that was making her feel a kind of bone deep exhaustion she’d never known existed. A wave of nausea made her stumble up the curb, and she closed her eyes as she paused by the bus shelter, leaning on it for support as she breathed out slowly and fought to keep down the cereal she’d forced herself to eat before her appointment.

Someone asked her if she was okay, but she waved them off and started walking again. She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket, squeezing the small blister pack against the creases of her fingers. Her life was no place for a child, and there was little doubt that she’d been a terrible parent on top of it. Her mother had died when she was ten, and her father was more of an example of what not to do than anything else. She wouldn’t even be in this situation if it wasn’t for Moe French.

“Remember to smile and look cute, Izzy.”

The nausea returned, twisting like a knot in her belly, and she picked up the pace of her steps. Two small white pills and all this would be over.

The water was blissfully cold, and Lacey scooped more with her hands, letting it run over her wrists and palms before splashing it against her face.

She leaned down and slurped some of it into her mouth, swishing a few seconds before spitting it out. Her tongue felt thick and dry, and her throat stung from both the harsh stomach acid and the violent retching. She’d barely made it in the door of her temporary apartment before she lost every last Cheerio.

The faucet squeaked as she turned it off, and she straightened with a heavy sigh. Everything hurt and her body felt heavy with fatigue. How anyone could be expected to put up with forty weeks of this shit she’d never know, and it gave her even more respect for the ones who did. She eased herself down to the floor and leaned against the tile wall, letting the cold seep through her clothes and soothe the feverish tingle that always plagued her after she was sick. Her jeans pressed painfully against her stomach and she popped the button with an exhale of relief. In just a short time her lower belly had swollen; not so much that anyone could tell what was happening to her, but enough for her favorite skinny jeans to be uncomfortable.

Her head lolled to the side, her eyes catching the small pill pack on the floor. She’d dropped it when she’d come running into the bathroom. Now it was across the floor next to the shower, sitting next to some weird stain she’d been ignoring. That was her life; dingy apartments, dodging the law, and nothing to offer a child. She should have already taken the pills, and she stretched across the floor, ignoring the stinging her eyes.

As soon as she moved, a stabbing pain lanced across her body from above her right hip to the center of her abdomen, settling beneath her navel. Her eyes closed as she rolled back and pushed herself up against the wall, letting out a low groan. Breathing steadily, in and out, the pain eventually receded, and she looked down at herself, running a hand back and forth over her side. The pills lay just to her left, in easy reach. She could take them anytime in the next couple of days, anytime she was ready. Maybe this pain was a sign, maybe the problem would take care of itself without her having to do anything.

Maybe…

Lacey sniffed loudly and pushed to her feet, letting her loosened jeans fall down before she wriggled them over her hips and kicked them off. She snatched up the pills, setting them next to the sink before she moved into the bedroom. Her hand idly rubbed at her belly.

Even though she would be a hot mess as a mother, Gold would probably be a decent father. He’d had a son before, and even though their relationship wasn’t as close as he might have liked, they still kept in touch. The love in his voice whenever he spoke about Neal made her hate her own father even more. She doubted Moe ever talked about anything but money with so much reverence and devotion.

If only she was a better person, maybe they could have made a go of it, co-parented or something like that, swapping off every other week, meeting in the park to exchange the kid. But she wasn’t, and they weren’t.

Another twinge hit her as she sat down on the bed, and she twisted to lay on her side, her knees bent and curled up towards her chest. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, her throat so tight she could barely breathe. The pain passed, leaving a lingering ache that she felt all the way up to her chest. It would be easy right now, while it wasn’t as real to her as it might be in a few weeks. The pills were so small, so easily swallowed, but she could wait.

Two more days, just to see what would happen. Then she’d take them.

7 months and two days ago…

“Miss Belle!”

Lacey turned at the sound of her fake name, and smiled. “Grace! How are you, sweetie? Did you find a book you like?”

Grace made a face and shook her head, turning it all the way one way and then the other in an exaggerated no.

“Why not?” Lacey went down on one knee, bringing herself to Grace’s level. “Have you read everything already?”

That earned her a smile and a soft giggle. The girl could be sensitive and stubborn when things weren’t going her way, but she was a very bright child, and Lacey suspected that much of her angst came from frustration at the adults and other children around her. Her father, Jefferson, was a very eccentric man, and a good friend of Gold’s. Lacey had only met him once, but he seemed charming and sweet, and very devoted to his daughter.

“All the books about superpowers have boys in them,” she groused, her head flopping back as she huffed. “And I don’t want another story about princesses.”

Lacey bit back a smile. “I see.” She tapped her lip with her finger, and then looked over at the circulation desk where a stack of newly returned books was sitting. “You know I might have something you’d like…”

Grace’s head tilted, and Lacey took her by the hand, leading her over to the desk. At the same time, the library door opened, and Mr. Gold stepped through the door. He paused with his cane planted in front of him and looked around the space before his eyes settled on her. Her breath caught the second she felt the weight of his gaze. Sunlight streamed in behind him, and she blinked as he started towards her.

They hadn’t spoken since two days prior when she’d dashed into his shop to escape a rainstorm and they’d fucked in the back. Her legs pressed together as she licked her lips, her body recalling how good he’d felt inside her, and how ready it was to do it again.

“Miss Belle?”

Grace tugged on the hem of Lacey’s cardigan, and she looked away from Gold, giving herself a shake as she focused back on the little girl.

“Yes, sorry,” she said, flipping through the first few books on the stack. “Here it is!”

Grace accepted the book from her and stared at the cover. “Ma - Mat - Mat-ill - dah?”

“Matilda,” Lacey said, smiling as Grace repeated the name flawlessly. “It’s about a very smart little girl, who has a super power.”

Grace looked up at her wide-eyed. “Can she fly?”

She shook her head, tossing a quick glance in Gold’s direction. He was leaning on the counter a few feet away, smiling softly as she spoke with Grace. It was unnerving.

“No, she can’t fly,” Lacey said, dropping down to Grace’s level again. “She can move things with her mind!”

Grace let out a soft gasp and gave the book’s cover another once over, her eyes moving from top to bottom over the drawing of a little girl sitting surrounded by stacks of books. “That’s cool!”

Lacey grinned. “Right? She’s so smart she can move things just by thinking about it, and she uses her power to help her teacher, Miss Honey.”

“Her teacher?”

“Mmhmm,” Lacey hummed. “Miss Honey is the only adult who sees how smart Matilda is, and she’s very sweet.” She slipped the book from Grace’s hands and flipped it around, letting her fingers trace over the cover. “This was my favorite book...”

The idea of having a super power, of being able to escape your circumstances and leave behind people who didn’t want you or love you had entranced her as a child. If only it had been that easy. A noise drew her attention, and she watched Gold crossed to the small rack of magazines by the front sitting area. He started turning it around and around, without taking any of the magazines out, and she returned her attention to the process of checking out the book.

“There you go,” she said a few minutes later, handing Grace the book. “I hope you enjoy it.”

Grace beamed at her and opened the cover to look at the stamped return date on the inside. “Thanks, Miss Belle!”

Lacey blew out a breath and watched the girl go, her fingertips running back and forth over her bottom lip.

“Do you have a minute, Miss French?”

Gold’s voice surprised her, and she jumped, nearly knocking over the stacked books. She reached out to catch them at the same time he did, and their hands slipped over each other.

“Oh - I - um, I’m sorry…”

“My fault, entirely.” He flashed a tight smile and pulled his hand back, folding it over his cane.

She met his gaze and held it, feeling her cheeks flush. “Did you need something?”

“You’re very good with her,” he said, and then nodded towards the doors. “With all the children, I imagine.”

Lacey shrugged. She wasn’t, but Belle was. “I don’t know, I just try to treat them like people.”

“Well, they do tend to grow up and become people,” he agreed. “At least in my limited experience.” She gave him a look, and he shrugged. “I have a son.”

Her eyes widened and her head tilted slightly. “What grade is he in?”

“He’s twenty-five.” Gold chuckled. “He, uh, he doesn’t live around here. He’s down in New York.”

“I see, well…” She pressed her palms to her skirt and tried to ignore the heat creeping up the back of her neck.

His grin was crooked, and he looked down for a moment, as if remembering something. “I was looking for a book...”

“Obviously.” She was grateful for the change in subject and smirked at his raised eyebrow. “Any particular one, or will this one do?”

She held up the book on top of the stack, and he wrinkled his nose at the cover. “I love trashy vampire romances as much as the next desperate housewife, but no.”

Lacey’s lips twitched as she set the book down. “Then how can I help, Mr. Gold?”

He gave her an odd look and said, “Well, I need to translate some Spanish. A fellow collector in Boston thinks he has some original writings by Neruda and we’re trying to authenticate them.”

“Ooooh!” Her eyes lit up and she came out from behind the desk to lead him back to the language section. “I’m sure there’s something here that will help, assuming the writings are legitimate.”

Her fingers ran along the shelf, eyes searching for something that might fit. She hadn’t been at this very long, but walking among the books every day had given her a sense of the job, and a familiarity with the building’s contents. After selecting something that would do the job, they went back to the desk and she started the checkout process.

She could feel his eyes roaming up and down her body as she moved, and she nearly dropped the stamper. He hadn’t said anything about their encounter, and she was starting to wonder if he was going to ignore it entirely. He leaned in as she held out the book to him, but he took hold of her wrist instead, using it to pull her closer. Across the narrow counter, she could feel his warm breath on her face, and a flush of something washed over her as she turned her face towards his.

“I crave your mouth,” he said softly, his voice dropping low, his eyes drifting down to her lips. “Your voice, your hair.”

Lacey shivered. Her lips parted and her eyes fluttered closed as a flush of arousal washed over her, settling low in her core. She sucked in a shallow breath and caught a hint of Gold’s scent, aftershave or cologne maybe, warm and earthy like sandalwood.

“Silent and starving,” he continued, “I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.”

His mouth brushed her cheek, her jaw, and then his nose touched to hers, their eyes meeting before he pulled away. She swallowed hard and looked down to realize her hand was still outstretched, the book now tucked under his arm. The bastard was smirking at her, and she wanted to walk around the desk and kiss it right off him.

“Have dinner with me.”

She blinked hard. “What?”

He chuckled again, a low, dark sound that did nothing to stem the throb between her legs. “Dinner, Miss French?”

Lacey breathed slowly and folded her arms. “Where? When?”

“My place. Tonight.” Gold shrugged one shoulder. “Say...seven?”

She swallowed again and licked her lips. There was another invitation there, unspoken but clear, and she grinned slowly. “See you at seven. Mr. Gold.”

Two Days Later...

Gold turned the glass, watching as a drip of condensation ran down the side to puddle on the side table.

He pressed on the wet spot with his finger and wiped it away. Outside the rain patted at the window, a gentle, soothing white noise that annoyed him. He didn’t want to be soothed, he wanted to take his cane and smash everything in his reach to pieces. The only reason he didn’t, the reason he was sitting and drinking the most expensive scotch he owned, was because seeing the remains of his possessions in the morning would make him feel worse. He tried not to think about the shards of glass on the floor in the back of his shop, the remains of a crystal figurine that had been sitting on the cash register since Belle had put it there some months ago in an effort to tease him.

Belle.

Lacey.

Whatever.

The scotch slid down his throat smoothly, warming in his belly, and he leaned back in the chair. At some point he would get over her, just as he had his ex-wife. He was coming around to accepting that she had been doing nothing more in Storybrooke than biding her time, and that their tryst had been an easy distraction.. She wanted to be comfortable and protected, and he couldn’t blame her for that in the end. It was his fault for making everything into more than it was, for believing her soft touches and quiet words meant something. Inviting her for dinner, giving her space in his home and his heart, that was all on him. She’d never asked for any of it, never seemed to want it in hindsight, but he’d been too stupid and foolish in the moment.

Gold blinked as the fire in the fireplace lept upwards, glowing brighter and higher with a sharp snap and a whooshing sound. He frowned and looked down at the floor to see pieces of glass shining in the light, some so close to the fire they were melting, and a splatter of liquid trailing from the floor up onto the stone hearth. He slumped in the chair and stared at his hand as if it had betrayed him by caving to his emotions and flinging his glass into the fire. After a few minutes, he pushed to his feet and head towards the kitchen for a rag and something to put the glass in.

A knock at the door drew his attention, and he scowled down the hallway, his eyes narrowing at the colorful stained glass in the door. He could see a shadow of someone outside, and huffed as he made his way to it, assuming it was Sister Astrid or Miss Blanchard, out collecting for some cause or another.

Gold yanked open the door, ready to lash out at the poor unfortunate soul who disturbed his brooding, only to nearly fall over in astonishment. “Lacey…”

She shrugged, swaying the backpack that was slung over her shoulder. “Hey.”

His lips curled over his teeth as his hand pressed down on his cane. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“The traditional lover's greeting,” she mumbled looking down at the worn wood planks of the porch.

“There’s nothing here for you.” He stepped into the doorway, thumping his cane hard against the threshold. “Go back to Boston, or New York, or wherever the hell you ran off to.”

He started to shut the door, and she reached out, catching it with her hand and bracing hard. “Hey!” She gave it a hard shove, and he pulled it open again, glaring down at her. “Fuck you! I came all this way because I have something to tell you.”

“I. Don't. Care.” His jaw clenched, grinding his teeth together as he sneered through every word. “About you, or whatever you have to say. I'm not -”

“I'm pregnant.”

Gold blinked hard and frowned. Lacey stared up at him, her face calm, and he reached out to hold on to the door frame. His head felt strangely heavy and he let his eyes close for a moment. “You're - uh - you're - you’re what?”

“Pregnant.” Her mouth curled a bit. “And don't insult me by asking if it's yours. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't.”

“I - I wasn't.” Surprisingly, it was the truth. He didn’t believe she’d show up and tell him something like that without the certainty that it was his. “Lacey, what - why - why are you here? Why are you telling me this?”

Lacey shook her head and twisted the strap of her pack in her fingers. “Because it's yours and - and I thought you should know.”

He swallowed and leaned against the side of the doorway. His leg was throbbing along with his head, and his stomach felt like he’d been punched. A tiny ember of hope bloomed in his chest and he wanted to stamp it out and throw it in the fire along with every shred of emotion he had left for her. She shrugged again and looked down at her shoes, and his earlier anger returned full force.

“Why? So nine months from now you can sue me for child support?” She looked at him, her mouth twisting, wrinkling the skin on either side of her nose and across her forehead. “So you can weasel even more money and time out of me? What you got wasn't enough?”

Lacey’s eyes went wide and she wobbled backwards before catch herself. “What the hell are you -?”

He scoffed and shook his head, tossing his hair back from his face. “You're so dedicated to the con, you're playing the longest game possible with another human being’s life?”

“Fuck you!” she spat, slapping the door with her palm instead of his face.

Gold let out a humorless snort and looked her up and down, smirking. “No thanks. This time I'll pass.”

Lacey stepped back and shook her head, pressing her lips together. “You know what,” she said, her voice even as she shoved her hands in the pockets of her worn red leather jacket. “This was obviously a mistake.”

His eyebrows lifted as she took another step backwards, as if confirming her stupidity.

“I'm sorry,” she continued. “I just thought maybe this baby was wanted by at least one of us. That if there was anything left of this giant shitcake to salvage...this would be it. But I was wrong.”

She turned and walked down the porch steps, her boots making heavy thumps on the wood. Gold’s mind was still reeling, both from shock and anger, and some part of him was screaming to stop her, but his legs wouldn’t move and his throat felt too tight to form sound.

“Sorry, kiddo.” Lacey looked down at her belly. “You're O for two!” Then she looked back at Gold, digging her nails into her palms and swallowing hard. “You don’t have to worry. I'll be on the bus tomorrow. Have a nice fucking life, Gold.”

She continued down the sidewalk from the pink house, blinking as the tears stung her eyes. This had been another stupid mistake, a complete disaster just like most of her life. He was watching her leave, again, his eyes on her, burning a hole in her back straight through to her heart.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #golden lace #golden lace fic #the don't fall in love job #fic #my golden lace fic #abortion cw #pregnancy cw

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consulalexander · 5 years

Text

i can’t breathe (sneak peek)

NOW. I wasn’t gonna post this after this week’s episode happened because ouch my soul. And I don’t have time to update multiple WIPs. So after this I’ll be posting the entirety of this fic on AO3 when it’s finished, which won’t be for a couple weeks unfortunately but I swear it’s coming, it’s just become a bit more of a project than I had originally thought

HOWEVER

Y’all are yelling at me to post something so fine here’s the opening scene, have fun crying

A couple things: this goes AU after 3x17, Magnus has the loft because I wasn’t creative enough to figure out another solution and he had to have his own place for the purposes of this fic, and this takes place about a month after the almost proposal because the Shadowhunters timeline is GARBAGE and I refuse to accept it

If you REALLY like pain, I was listening to lovely feat. Khalid by Billie Eilish and i can’t breathe by Bea Miller on repeat while I was writing this (Bea Miller’s song is the inspo for the title and various thematic elements of this angst monster) (also wow way to drive a knife in my heart with that scene and that song Shadowhunters fuck u very much)

Feel free to scream or ask questions in my ask

TW for depressive thoughts and all the Magnus feels

Waking up becomes the worst part of his day.

Sleep is bliss—there is no reality in dreams. He’s filled to the brim with power, the familiar hum of magic coursing through his body, as steady as Alec’s heartbeat. It comes out of him in waves, blue fire wrapping delicately around the loft and out to the balcony and caressing his skin like a lover’s lips. He’s drunk and high and having an orgasm all at once and he’s never felt this alive.

For a moment, when he wakes up, golden light casting across the bed from the bay window and dancing tenderly on his skin, nothing is different. Nothing is missing.

But then, the knowledge of his new reality comes crashing down on him like a tsunami, and Magnus is drowning in grief, as if that part of him—the only part he really knows—died.

Every day is a new kind of hell—he might as well have stayed in Edom.

Magnus breaks out of his traitorous thoughts when he feels something stirring next to him: Alec, grunting softly as he rolls over. His long lashes flutter, opening to reveal big pale eyes that are clouded over with sleep.

He yawns until his jaw cracks and mutters, “Hey.”

Magnus gives him a small smile, barely a quirk of his lips.

“Good morning.”

Alec shuffles closer into Magnus’ side, clearly not ready to get out of the comfortable cocoon of blankets he’s sequestered himself in.

Normally, Magnus adores Alec in the morning; he’s the softest Magnus ever sees him, wanting nothing but warmth and sweetness. He reminds him fondly of a cat lying in a sun patch on the floor, sprawling his limbs out over the bed or on top of Magnus. He normally could spend hours tracing the runes on his pale skin, slowly waking Alec up with feather light kisses and barely there fingertips.

That was before, though. That was Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn.

He has no idea who Magnus Bane the mundane is, and Alec’s sleepy embrace only reminds him, with a pang, of what he no longer has.

Magnus extracts himself from the bed with some difficulty, Alec’s arms tightening around him like a boa constrictor. Alec groans in protest, lifting his head to drowsily glare at Magnus.

“Where are you going?” he pouts.

“Coffee,” Magnus says, because he knows it’s an answer Alec will wholeheartedly accept. There’s no limit to Alec’s caffeine addiction.

“Oh, okay,” Alec murmurs, predictably, sinking back down into the bed.

A part of Magnus, growing louder by the second, demands that he crawl back into bed and wrap himself up in his all too enticing boyfriend, thinking of nothing but them, existing in this space like nothing is wrong and there’s no gnawing pit in his stomach.

He can’t, though. He’s already put Alec through so much—Magnus doesn’t understand why he stays, why he lets Magnus do things like ruin romantic dinners or pick fights and cry, why he’s so patient and good. Far better than Magnus can ever be, that’s for sure. He doesn’t deserve it, and Alec especially doesn’t deserve what Magnus is giving him in return.

Which is, well, nothing. Nothing at all.

“I’ll be right back,” Magnus says, feeling suddenly overwhelmed and hoping Alec is still too tired to detect the note of panic in his voice.

He leaves the stifling bedroom and pads down the hall, his fingers automatically coming together in a phantom snap for coffee to begin brewing. The air rushes out of him when he remembers. Everything’s manual now.

As Magnus preps the coffee, he recalls, his face wrinkled in slight disgust, soon after he’d lost his magic for good. He’d almost had a breakdown over the damn machine, when he’d gone to make some for himself and Alec one morning and realized he had no idea how to actually make coffee.

Alec had wandered into the kitchen, wondering what was taking Magnus so long, and had found him sitting on the floor, head hanging low with the machine in pieces around him.

Of course—because Alec really must be one of those white knights in fairy tales—he’d hauled Magnus to his feet and helped him pick out a new coffee maker, a simple gold without any bells or whistles. When they got back, Alec sat Magnus down at the kitchen island and--with a teacher’s patience and a protective desire that was all Alec--walked him through how to make a perfect pot of coffee by hand.

Magnus pours the coffee into two mugs now, his fingers tingling when colliding with the warm ceramic. When he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend it’s the feeling of magic sparking at his fingertips.

Almost.

He goes back into the bedroom and finds Alec out of bed, pulling on a shirt. His phone lies on the edge of the bed, and his hair clings to his forehead, damp from the shower. Magnus wonders just how long he was in the kitchen for.

Alec makes no comment on it. He takes the mug Magnus offers him gratefully and sips, grinning at him.

“Perfect,” he says, eyes incredibly soft as he gazes at Magnus.

Magnus fidgets, a feeling of guilt that’s been ever-present lately when he looks at Alec washing over him.

“I have to go,” Alec says, apologetic, after a few moments of silence. “I’m sorry, Jace called, it’s important.”

Magnus nods his head too fast.

“Of course,” he says, more than a little relieved that Alec is leaving. He loves Alec, loves his grounding presence, but if he has to endure another day of pitying glances he might scream.

“You gonna be okay?” Alec asks, eyes probing as he slips on his leather jacket.

“Who, moi?” Magnus rolls his eyes, playing up nonchalance for Alec’s benefit. “I’ll be just fine. I’ve got some house stuff I’ve been meaning to take care of anyway. Dusting, scrubbing, Marie Kondo-ing. You know.”

Alec pauses in lacing up his boots, looking at Magnus in suspicion. Clearly, Magnus isn’t doing as good a job of hiding his emotions as he thinks he is.

Alec smashed through all of Magnus’ walls without even trying, by simply existing, and Magnus has to fight to rebuild in the wake of his new identity. He hates it, and he’s more than positive Alec isn’t pleased with it either, if the disastrous dinner on the balcony almost a month ago now is anything to go by. But he has to protect himself and without his magic, he doesn’t have very many ways left to do that. He’s safe behind the walls; nothing can hurt him here.

“You sure? I can try and leave work early, make Jace or Izzy take some paperwork for me—”

Magnus cuts him off, painting a wide smile on his face with as much false joy as he can muster.

“No!” he says, too earnest. “I’m fine, darling, honestly. You’ve got Shadowhunters to order around, you don’t need to worry about me.”

Alec slides his phone into his pocket and steps forward, closing the distance between them and cupping Magnus’ cheek with his palm. His eyes run over Magnus’ features, looking for… something.

“I always worry about you,” he murmurs.

Magnus doesn’t know what to say. If Magnus is fighting to rebuild his walls, Alec’s are crumbling down like skyscrapers in an earthquake. He’d worked so hard to get Alec to expose himself, and now that they’re here, Alec bearing everything to him in that urgently sweet way of his, all Magnus wants to do is hide.

He settles for a small smile, leaning into Alec’s hand and kissing his palm.

Alec’s phone buzzes violently in his pocket, and he winces.

“Gotta go,” he says, kissing Magnus’ forehead and disappearing out of the bedroom.

Magnus hears Alec’s tender call of ‘see you tonight, love you!’ as he leaves, the door falling shut behind him.

The loft is quiet, too quiet now, and Magnus stares off into the distance, embracing the hollowness of his chest as another empty, useless day stretches out before him, like the gray ocean fading into the horizon.

#shadowhunters #my fic #angst on angst on angst #malec #don't @ me #feels #magnus bane #alec lightwood

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