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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

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Thor Odinson - happier

A/N & WC - I am not trying to pretend I am Olivia Rodrigo at all: total credit for all songs and lyrics used here goes to her and her team. No disrespect is meant towards her. I do not own the songs, I also do not own the characters I’m writing these blurbs for. Please read the preface. 1.4k.

Warnings - Thor being a himbo, Thor being obsessed with Jane, break up talk, swearing.

“Ah!” Thor’s voice booms out once I manage to seek him out, still wiping my eyes. “Mortal girl. Why were you being so… noisy?”

“I was trying to find you,” I tell him, deadpanning.

“Ok then, y/n. Why?”

“For God’s sake, will you just follow me?”

He sighs at me rolling my eyes, but follows me. I ignore the hiss of wind and the way the flash of silver passing just inches over the top of my head dislodges my hair.

“I apologise for Mjolnir. He tends to…”

“I know,” I say, turning to meet his one-eyed gaze as we reach the living room, “I’m used to it. Make yourself comfortable.”

He’s still iffy about Midgardian furniture—probably since he’s broken multiple pieces of it during his time here—so balances uncomfortably on the very edge of the sofa with Mjolnir in his hand, the leather and metal of his fighting gear settling heavily against the cushions. I sit at the piano with my back straight, my shoulders squared, and my fingers gently curved over the notes.

“A-are you going to play for me, y/n?”

“That was the plan. I wrote a song I want you to hear.”

“Oh!” he exclaims, though I can’t tell whether it’s in surprise or disapproval, “ok.”

He runs one giant hand through his matted blonde hair, and hones his eyes in on my back. My fingers press the keys for the very first chord, Db7. The 6/8 time signature adds a swing waltz feel, unique to this song, unfamiliar with my usual compositional style.

‘We broke up a month ago

You've moved on, found someone new

One more girl who brings out the better in you’

Thor wasn’t grounded when I was going through the breakup, but returned by the photo leak, and hugged me so tight once he learned what had happened that I almost stopped breathing. He then proceeded to spend around ten hours telling me every small detail and every little passing emotion in a long winded retelling about his relationship with Jane. I won’t lie, it did help a little, and most certainly distracted me.

The part of his tale that inspired this song was about his return to earth during the convergence, when Jane was dating an Irish man who made Thor more jealous than he can recall being before in all thousand years of his life. When he took her to Asgard, he wished for her to only be happy with him. I don’t blame him one little bit.

‘And I thought my heart was attached

For all the sunlight of our past.’

For all of his chaos in recent years, Thor has his head screwed on straight. He can detach himself, be logical through heartbreak, and for all his recklessness, he’s… solid. He taught me how to separate myself from my heart so it wouldn’t hurt, how to watch my emotions from another perspective and weigh them up. We examined each and every one under the same question. Is it worth it? And a lot of the time the answer was no, so Thor sat by me as I let go of the happy memories. It… helped.

But she's so sweet, she's so pretty

Does she mean you forgot about me?’

Thor likes to ramble. He’s very good at it. I feel like I’m subjected to an inane lecture half the time, but the other half, he packs wisdom in his nonsense. Whilst rambling about Jane, he dropped a few quality bombs from their conversations. ‘I never forgot about you, or stopped hoping…’ ‘if you ever doubted my return, we aren’t meant to be…’ And then I realised that for the precise reason that I doubted him, it doesn’t matter if we forget one another, because we clearly weren’t meant to be.

‘Oh, I hope you're happy, but not like how you were with me

I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go

So find someone great but don't find no one better

I hope you're happy, but don't be happier’

Thor’s eyes are closed, and he’s swaying to the beat in his seat, his blond locks floating around him as he soaks my words in. His ego is the size of the nine realms most of the time, so he knows Jane won’t find anyone better, the same way I know my ex won't find anyone as good as me. Thor and I, though I always thought we were polar opposites, are exactly the same. We know how happy we can make people, we know we’re wonderful, we know we can be selfish at times, but that makes us great people to be around. He brought the oomph back into my ego, and for that, I smile at him as I tail off from the chorus, not that he can see me.

‘And do you tell her she's the most beautiful girl you've ever seen?

An eternal love bullshit you know you'll never mean

But she's beautiful, she looks kind, she probably gives you butterflies.’

Thor told me I was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. He was drunk, of course, and assured me it was platonic because he was in love with Jane, but it boosted my self esteem anyway, since my ex never said anything like that. I knew I shouldn’t be comparing myself to her, as Thor knows he shouldn’t compare himself to any mortal men that may take Jane’s fancy in the interim. Though misguided and rather conceited, I took his point in my stride. It’s complete bullshit, whatever my ex says, to me, to her, to whoever comes next and whoever has been before. Thor… he helped me increase my sorry Stark ego. Of course no one else in the tower was happy about this, but I was, because I was back to myself once he was done.

‘I hope you're happy, I wish you all the best, really

Say you love her, baby, just not like you loved me

And think of me fondly when your hands are on her

I hope you're happy, but don't be happier’

Vengeance seeps into my tone now as I experience the true meaning of the song. Thor, in typical golden retriever style, has his head cocked and his brows furrowed as he tries to visibly make sense of the lyrics. I’m fucking unforgettable, and I’ll be damned if he finds anyone better. I’m happier alone, but he’s so disgusting he wouldn’t manage it. There’s nothing more for me to feel fondly about, and I thank Thor in these lyrics for helping me recognise this.

Light, almost heady vocalisations spill from my lips, feeling them in my nose as I hum and ooh and ahh. I let it all flood over me, emotions pooling around me as I attempt to sift through them for some conformation, but all I get is clarity. I’m happy, so fucking happy now. While I was tied down—without the help of my bloody witless Uncle Thor—I never would’ve figured out that he was the reason I wasn’t happier. Jokes on him. I repeat the chorus with a smirk etched upon my face.

‘I hope you're happy, but don't be happier.’

My final line is sung almost ethereally, lightly, with the slightest riff and inflection on the words as I breathe out on the final word, vibrato lacing my lyrics. I glance at Thor, his cheeks full of food he got from lord knows where so he looks like a hamster, wearing that stupid grin he often does.

He stands up, his posture impressive, and applauds me. The sound booms around the room despite it only being him, and I feel the vibrations of his claps in my legs as I stand, wobbling slightly.

“I liked that!” he exclaims. “Not the style, of course, but the words are lovely.”

I offer him a smile, shuffling over to perch on the arm of the couch, “I wrote the lyrics after your help through my break up.”

“Who knew I was a songwriter? I can add that to my list, hold on one moment…”

“Thor, no—” I start, but cut myself off. I’ll let him have this one.

“Well then, y/n. What is it the others call you? Baked bean? I can see it! Your eyes are all... they’re all splotchy like baked beans,” he laughs.

And now I remember why we aren’t usually friends.

“Well anyway, I liked your little song. Thank you. Should I leave now?”

“Yeah, um, you can just go,” I say half heartedly.

He smiles at me over his shoulder as he disappears, leaving the door wide open behind him. Typical Thor. But then again, sometimes family is difficult, and I suppose that’s what he is to me, why he helped me, why I put up with him even when he says the most pointless things. Hopefully Bucky has a bit more to say.

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ladydimitrescuspet · 3 years

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Catch You Later

AO3 link - word challenge: pineapple

Lady Dimitrescu put two fingers under your chin and lifted your head, slightly straining your neck so you could look up at her. "Do you remember the safe word, my dear?" Lady Dimitrescu.

You frowned slightly. What did you need a safe word for? "Yes, I remember the safe word, My Lady." You replied with a small nod of your head when she removed her fingers.

"Good. You understand that if you say the safe word, fail to escape my maze within the given time frame, or get caught by one of my daughters or myself that you will be my pet, yes?" Lady Dimitrescu asked.

You raised your eyebrow. "I thought I was already your pet, Mistress." Lady Dimitrescu hummed at the already known knowledge but didn't say anything. "And what happens if I do escape?" You asked.

"You are free to leave this castle, this village, Romania, but on the one condition that you never return here under any circumstances. Far be it for me to catch you twice, but if Heisenberg, Moreau, or Beneviento were to get their hands on you, you wouldn't last past a night or two there. You were lucky to survive as long as you did here, sweet one." Lady Dimitrescu replied, but she didn't give you time to comment. "This map will help navigate you through the maze, make sure you pay close attention to it. My daughters and I will keep our abilities to a minimum to give you a fair chance in this little game."

You grimaced at the thought of this being their idea of a game. "When do we start?" You asked as you took the map from her hand. Lady Dimitrescu just motioned for you to turn around and you obeyed, albeit hesitantly. You stiffened a little as you felt a piece of fabric cover your eyes, but relaxed when you realised it was just a blindfold. "I guess this means it starts now." You mumbled to yourself eliciting a small chuckle from Lady Dimitrescu.

You felt the Lady pick you up. "Hold on tightly, dear, wouldn't want you to fall and get hurt before the fun begins." You grimaced again and barely had time to wrap your arms around her neck before it felt like you were flying but you chalked it down to her moving at an unnatural pace. It only lasted a few minutes before you felt her stop, your head was spinning a bit. "You're probably feeling a bit dizzy. I'm going to set you down and I want you to count to ten before removing the blindfold and beginning, understand?" You nodded your head. "Good girl. You'll have a half-hour head start and then you'll want to keep your ears alarmed at any and every sound. You're allowed to hide, but don't stay in one spot too long. And, darling, if you need to use the safe word then don't be afraid to say it. Best of luck to you, pet." Lady Dimitrescu patted the top of your head and then you felt her presence disappear.

You let out a sigh as you counted to ten and removed the blindfold. It was kind of dark outside, but not to the point where you couldn't see. You looked at the map and noticed something, it moved. "Great." You mumbled. You waited until it was finished rearranging, you noticed that only a few spots changed whereas the rest stayed in the same spot. You determined that you'd been brought to the centre of the garden maze. "Okay, so I go left first and then right three times before going straight." You did what you told yourself but came to a dead end. You frowned and looked at the map, it had changed.

You heard something behind you and turned around, but nothing was there. They shouldn't be out here yet, it hadn't been a half hour. You turned around a quickly made various turns, finding different shortcuts throughout the maze until you came to a spot that felt familiar. It was the entrance, but it was blocked off which meant that the entrance had moved to a different spot. You kept going until you came across a puzzle. Did you need to solve the puzzle to escape?

The puzzle wasn't hard you realised as you looked over it. You just needed to put the House's coat of arms in the right places to represent Dimitrescu, Heisenberg, Beneviento, and Moreau. You had seen the different coat of arms before and remembered the tapestry in Lady Dimitrescu's sitting room that had each of the House's on it so you relied on your memory when you put them in their places. You let out a sigh of relief when you heard a click and look to your side to see something open, it held a cloak in it. Put me on if you want to be invisible was on a note that you found in front of it. It had been good timing because you could hear footsteps getting closer to you. You quickly put the coat of arms back in the places you found them and slipped the cloak on and hiding behind a nearby statue as Lady Dimitrescu came into view.

"Hmm, it seems like my little one hasn't cracked this one yet, girls." Lady Dimitrescu said as she walked over to the pieces and inspected them before putting them in their places. She let out a soft gasp when she noticed that the cloak inside the secret space was gone. "So, you did come this way, little one. Girls, spread out, my little darling is somewhere close by. I'll head to the next place and keep a lookout there. You musn't let them escape this maze." Lady Dimitrescu practically growled at her daughters before they headed in three separate directions. You let out a deep breath as Lady Dimitrescu began to walk away only to remember her mentioning the next place you needed to go so you quietly followed her, hiding where you could when you saw her stop and check her surroundings, looking for anything that looked complacent with an invisibility cloak, you realised you had to be even more careful whilst wearing it. "Oh, dearest Y/N, where are you hiding?" You heard Lady Dimitrescu call out, but remained quiet as she came upon another puzzle.

You saw her arrange the puzzle in a way that completed it, but she did it in a position where you could only see part of the puzzle. It looked like a keypad of some sort, more modern than anything you'd seen in the village or the castle. You saw her walk away when she saw that you hadn't gotten there yet and followed where she went with your eyes until she rounded a corner of the maze. You waited a few moments before carefully making your way over to the puzzle but not standing directly in front of it, just close enough where you could see the keypad.

You squinted as you tried to read, it was in Romanian. Great, just great. You knew the language, but you didn't speak it often. "Ai prefera?" You read to yourself. That meant Would you rather? so that was the game this time, okay. You looked up to the corner where Lady Dimitrescu had gone around and noticed a shadow, it was her shadow. Now that wasn't fair. She was waiting on you to solve the puzzle so she could catch you. You grinned as an idea came to your mind. You'd play the game, but you would wait for her to come out. You continued to read the rest of the next question. "Cel mai sălbatic vis sau cel mai rău coșmar al tău?" Why would you need to choose between your wildest dream or your worst nightmare? How would it even know those about you? Shaking off your questions, you made a choice, you obviously wanted your wildest dream so you chose your worst nightmare and the secret space opened up. It was a bottle with a note that said Drink me if you'd like to see the world from a different height, you raised your eyebrow, that could only mean getting taller. You looked up, the shadow hadn't moved yet so you reached into the pocket of your jacket and switched the bottle out with it before allowing the space to close with a slightly loud thud. That caught the attention of the shadow and you saw it began to move so you quickly got the other space opened to find another bottle with a note that said the same thing as the other bottle, switching the bottle out with whatever else you had in your pocket and left it to close as you found a place to hide.

You saw Lady Dimitrescu finally round the corner with a grin on her face. You could tell that she knew that you took both bottles by the fact that she didn't even check each hidden space to see if they were still there. "I'd be careful about getting those two bottles if I were you, Y/N." Lady Dimitrescu said loud enough that you were sure even her daughters heard the warning. You watched her walk back the way she came when you followed her. There goes your plan of following her to all the other puzzles and games. You checked your watched to see how much time you had left, you had one hour left to escape.

You were sure Lady Dimitrescu wasn't going to come back so you made your way over to where she had been hiding and noticed something on the ground. It was a note. "You're very smart, Y/N, following me here, but what you do not know is that it was a trap. I know you've taken both bottles, I gave you a warning, it's best to heed it. As for the trap, well, I'll let you figure it out yourself. Yours truly, Lady D." She wrote all of that while standing here. You heard a laugh and stood still as Daniela, one of her daughters.

"Mother! Your little one has your letter, what shall we do?" You heard her asked.

"My, my, maybe my pet isn't as smart as I thought. You know what to do, Daniela, no need for me to tell you once more." Lady Dimitrescu replied before shooing her daughter away. "Turn around." Lady Dimitrescu said and you realised that she was talking to you so you obeyed. "Cloak off, now." You took the cloak off.

You sighed. "I guess you win. Should I say pineapple or just let you grab me?" You asked.

Lady Dimitrescu shook her head. "Neither, I'm having fun." Lady Dimitrescu smiled wide enough to show her fangs. "Run, Y/N, and don't let me catch you."

You scratched your head. "Can I get the cloak back?" You asked. She handed it to you. "Don't worry, it wouldn't be fair if I wore it the whole game, my love." You replied.

"I see you learned from last time. A tip for you, my dear, Victoria and Elise are hanging around the next stop, so tread lightly and watch the map, it's important." She said. You smiled at her and she smiled back at you. "You may actually win this time, my darling." You rolled your eyes. You weren't going to win, no matter how many times you almost made it out, you always ended in someone's grasp or yelling out pineapples to end the game.

"I'll catch you later, Alci." You replied as you turned around from her. You smiled as you heard her say that that was her line. "It's not your line if I say it first." You heard her chuckle and turned around to find her gone. Probably making her way to the entrance, wherever it may be, to try and hinder you from escaping. Even if you did win you'd never leave Castle Dimitrescu, it was your home and Alcina and her daughters were your family for the rest of time.

#lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident evil village

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stopeatingwhales · 3 years

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"i'll never leave you again," x graham coxon

this is so sad but so cute *sobs* </3<3

Pairing: 90s graham coxon x reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1.639

Requested by anon x

༉‧₊˚✧

Embracing my boyfriend in a much-needed hug, I squeezed him tightly whilst the wind from the outside flew into our house due to the door still being wide open, making both me and Graham practically freeze in our grasp within one another. My fingers softly ran through his lengthy brown locks as I took in his scent: cigarettes and aftershave, doused with a hint of alcohol. The aroma was intoxicating, not only giving me the crave of a cigar, but also reminding me of the pure amount of desperation I carried inside myself of needing to be with him, embracing him, once again. “I missed you so much.” I mumbled into his shoulder, my cheek squashed on the fabric of his polo shirt which clung to his torso, enveloping his lanky figure. Detaching my head away from the crook of his neck, I took a hold of his hands, which were cold as ice, and stared deeply into his eyes, the spheres of deep brown, not wanting the seemingly perfect moment to vanish into the memory bank hidden in my brain. I felt fulfilled with him in my presence, directly in front of me; I had longed for a simple moment like this more than I thought, for things never came easy between us. For the past year, it was as if our relationship was a distant memory - with him being on tour visiting almost every country known to man, performing countless amounts of shows per week, accompanied by him practically living at the recording studio, I had hardly been with him, and had hardly attained the knowledge of who he was anymore. We barely spoke, and our conversations ran dry consistently, paired with the fact that phone calls abroad were very costly. As well as that, I seemed to be receiving the short end of the stick with regards to my job as I was forced to work overtime due to many people taking vacations from their jobs, something that I could have done, but was my only distraction from the live that I had began to lead: isolated, with my boyfriend practically nowhere to be found.

“Let’s get inside, it’s freezing out here,” he mumbled into my hair, removing one hand from mine to grab the suitcase adjacent to his body. We held hands as we walked through the hallway, him dropping his bag by our bedroom door as I pushed the front door to allow it to slam shut into the latch, our desperate need for physical contact proving our true feelings towards how horrible this year had been for us. Once we were able to sit down on the sofa together in the living room, I immediately lifted my body onto Graham’s lap whilst I pulled the blanket left on the sofa over our bodies. “How’ve you been, love?” he asked me, his voice soft, almost as if he knew how fragile my mental state was at that moment. His free hand was caressing my spine gently, causing my body to shiver slightly as I melted into his touch - as it had been a while since me and Graham had been in personal contact with one another, my body had forgotten the blissful sensation of his touch, which made a feeling of melancholy pop up in my mind, contrasted against the pleasure of utmost joy that he was finally in my presence.

“I’ve been okay…” I mumbled, a lie solely spoken out loud as if to convince myself that I had been fine, that the constant feeling of longing and separation were mere ideations conjured up in my mind, to make myself think that I was broken, when I wasn’t. Fixing my gaze at the stripes on his top, I let my fingers outline them over his chest, my eyes beginning to feel heavy as I felt tears prick up in my eyes, the thought of him needing to leave again overwhelming my mind. The simple thought caused my heart to once again break into pieces as if it were a glass cup that had been accidentally dropped from someone’s grip, smashing into chunks of sharp glass that would instantly cut into your skin if you attempted to pick them up, all the emotions that I had pent up and attempted to dissolve through heaps of work finally leaving my body. “I don’t want you to leave again.” I whispered, letting tears slowly escape my eyes as I gazed at my lap. I felt like a little child, not wanting to leave her parents as she had to go to her first day at school, the apprehension of going out into the ‘real world’ for the first time in her life coming across as a thought unimaginable as an experience. The anxiety of separation from him made me feel small, pathetic, as if I should’ve been able to control my emotions and not let them get so out of hand like this. Though, an apartment bought for two was never designed for one person to live in; a couple is not stemmed from one person being in love with themselves - unless you’re a narcissist.

“Oh dear, I’m not going to leave you again,” he replied, his voice cracking slightly as he saw the state that I was in. The entire situation seemed like that of a film; the intense atmosphere almost perceived the emotions felt to be false, and that this whole occurrence was simply unreal as if it were a nightmare occurring the night before he had actually returned home. Pulling me closer to his body, he cradled me in his arms, my head resting on his shoulder once again as he grasped both my hands, bringing them each, individually, to his lips, placing delicate but deep kisses on my palms. The feeling of his soft lips connecting with the skin of my hand lingered through my body as I was still getting properly adjusted to his companionship. Afterwards, he brought his index and middle finger up to my cheeks, caressing my tear-stained cheeks as a method of wiping my face dry from the mournful state my mind had been perpetuated in. The only sounds dancing around the room were the noises caused from my constant sniffling, my fingers finding Graham’s hands once again to bring into a tight hold. “Come on, let’s watch a film.”

Shifting my body off of Graham’s lap to allow him to get up and turn the DVD box on, I admired how much effort he was trying to put into comforting me. “Here, take a pick.” he said, handing me the stack of films that we had collected over the years. Taking my mind off of the sadness that had erupted out of my body, I skimmed through the covers to remind myself of the memories we had connected with each film. Once my fingers landed upon the cover of Dirty Dancing, my mind instantly flushed back to the memory of when I forced Graham to watch it with me. You’re going to love this film Graham, trust me. I don’t get why you’re making me watch this, it’s overrated. Because you love me. Yeah, because I love you.

After a couple minutes had passed with Graham not being present in the room, I heard his footsteps slowly making their way through the hallway and back into the living space, where I had been greeted with the sweet aroma of hot chocolate, made by him. “For you, love,” he said, carefully handing me the warm mug, followed by my thanks, before setting down his cup of tea on the coaster placed on the coffee table. “Which one did you pick?”

“Dirty dancing, because I know how much you love Swayze.” I joked, handing the DVD to him as I placed the other films on the floor beside the couch. A playful groan escaped his throat as he inserted the disc into the player.

“When was the last time we saw it?” he asked whilst making his way back to the sofa. He sat back in his original place, sneaking an arm around my waist to be able to pull me onto his lap so I could lay down. Looking up at him, I smiled sweetly as our eyes connected as I realised just how much of a good person he was, how caring he was, and especially how much he meant to me. I doubt that I would ever be able to have a complete and utter understanding of my adoration towards one singular man, but I assume that is the beauty of love. Unconditional, never ending. If you were able to completely understand your tenderness for a person, it wasn’t true love. True love is being able to handle and stick with one another through thick and thin, through all the suffering and pain, to reach that level of enlightenment where you can both spend your lives in complete bliss as the money from your pension’s tumble into your bank accounts. It meant that the idea of growing old with your significant other was an awaiting desitiation, something that proved nothing but commitment and that the person you were with, is indeed the person that you would spend your last minutes with.

“I think when we first moved in here together,” I replied, taking a sip from the warm beverage cradled in my palms. “So, about three years ago.”

“That long ago? Wow,” he replied, also taking a sip from his drink. “You ready?”

Nodding my head at him, I watched as he pressed play on the remote, the intro music beginning to play through the speakers. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied, pulling the blanket to cover my body, just like I had done earlier. “I promise that I’ll never leave you again.”

#graham coxon x reader #graham coxon #blur #blur band #90s #britpop #band imagines #fluff #my writing #nineties #music

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honey-andtea1889 · 4 years

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Easy Love

AN: Hello!! Y’all are really loving the first Spencer Reid fic, so I figured I could write another one! I really hope you enjoy it!! This is my first smut so please be nice lmao

Summary: The BAU team decides to go bowling after a long work week. However, Y/N and Spencer get a little competitive.

Warnings: swearing, drinking, straight filth of smut, choking, daddy kink, fingering, oral, and lots of fluff!

Song: Easy Love by Lauv

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Bowling night was not something that the team did regularly, but when it happened, everyone got super into the game. The planning of it all came from a super stressful case, on the jet home the team would make plans to bowl and would set a time for the event. Teams were made between the team captains, which varied every time they went. Today, it was Spencer and Y/N.

Y/N was more than excited to be going against Spencer. The two had always been on the same team on bowling night, so Y/N believed it would be interesting to see where the night takes them.

“You ready to get ya ass handed to you pretty boy?” Derek asked as he sat down next to JJ.

“Please, do you remember the last time we went bowling? We completely smoked you guys.” Spencer stated, smiling over to his best friend.

“I don’t know there, Spence. I’m pretty confident we’ll win. My line up is pretty damn good if I say so myself.” Y/N giggled.

Spencer smiled at her. The two had been secretly dating for about 6 months now. No one on the team suspected anything, however they thought they’d be a cute couple. Comments were made every day around the office since Y/N had started, which eventually led to a small crush on the incredibly handsome Doctor. It wasn’t long until he finally asked her out. She did ask that they kept it on the down low for professional reasons. Spencer was more than okay with keeping their relationship private, as long as he was with her, he was happy regardless.

“What time are we meeting up?” JJ asked.

“I believe Hotch said 8:30.″ Emily said whilst stretching her arms out.

Y/N’s phone beeped. A text from Spencer came through as she unlocked the device. It read:

Spence 💕: How about we make tonight a little interesting yeah?

Y/N smirked as she replied.

And how shall we do that, my love?

Her phone went off again.

Spence 💕: If you win, I will make dinner for a month. Now if I win, you have to let me taste you whenever I so desire. Daddy’s been a little hungry lately ;)

Y/N blushed and glanced at the Doctor sitting next to her. His lips held a smirk as his eyes stayed put on the phone screen. She bit her lip as she began typing, making sure no one else could see the messages being sent.

Oh you are so on Reid. I’ll warn you, I am a master bowler. I hope you like spaghetti :p

Spence 💕: I’d make sure your lungs are set too darling, daddy is going to have you screaming tonight ;p ;)

Y/N clenched her thighs together with anticipation as the plane landed. Once the aircraft came to a complete halt, the team exited and began to head into the FBI headquarters in Quantico. They entered the Bullpen and headed to their separate desks to file reports on the case. Derek plopped next to Y/N.

“You ready to kick some pretty boy ass tonight?” He chuckled

“You know it! He’s got no idea what’s coming to him.” Y/N said, submitting her reports to Hotch.

Hotch chuckled at the playful banter. As soon as the team turned in their reports, they all made their ways home to get ready for bowling night. When they got home, Spencer pinned Y/N to the door and slammed his lips into hers.

She had gotten used to this behavior since he got out of prison. He was a completely different man. The first few weeks were hard, with his over excitement to be home and the horrific memories that followed him as he left, Spencer barely slept. He’d have nightmares of what pain he endured. His quiet sobs and sniffles would wake Y/N, having her comfort him back to sleep with cooes and sweet kisses. Spencer eventually went back to normal in a different sense. He still spewed out interesting facts here and there but there wasn’t as many. He smiled again, but it was never for long.

The sex was different as well. Before he was arrested, Spencer was gentle and delicate when they made love. These days, he was rough and almost animalistic. Y/N didn’t mind in the slightest. It was an adjustment to say the least. She wasn’t sure if it was the lack of sexual contact or the fact that he just missed her that caused the sudden change in their sexual relationship, however she went along knowing that they both needed it.

His lips moved down to her neck. Their breathing becoming erratic as she tangled her fingers in his growing locks. Spencer started biting and sucking around her collar bone, leaving love marks around her neck. Y/N moaned softly in his ear, sending Spencer into a frenzy.

“You like that darling?” He whispered, dragging his hands down her body.

“Yes daddy.” Y/N moaned.

He quickly moved away from her and walked into the bedroom. Y/N was left dumbfounded and extremely aroused. She followed him to their shared bedroom to see what his antics were leading towards, only to find Spencer in a yellow and black bowling shirt and his gold framed glasses.

“You should be getting ready, Y/N. We have to be somewhere soon.” Spencer said as he smirked.

Y/N sighed and began taking her work clothes off. Spencer watched as the love of his life stripped away her shirt and slacks, leaving her in a Calvin Klein thong and black lace bra. His stride carried him over to her as she turned around. Y/N crashed her lips into Spencer’s. He carried her to the bed and plopped her down, scooting her closer to the headboard. Y/N clung onto Spencer’s neck as he returned his lips to her’s. She could feel the growing bulge in his jeans when she brought her hand to his pelvis. Spencer groaned at the newfound contact and began to grind on Y/N.

Spencer’s phone rang and Y/N almost yelled at the little device. He chuckled and answered the phone while he brought his hand to her folds. Y/N gasped as Spencer played with her entrance. She moaned at the new feeling of his fingers slowly slipping inside of her. Spencer smirked as he pumped in and out of her dripping pussy.

“Hey Morgan. Yeah we’ll be on our way soon. Yeah, no, we’re okay. Just have some things to take care of. Alright, we’ll see you all there.” Spencer hung up and placed the phone on the night stand.

He stood in his place and smirked at Y/N. The sight was beautiful. Y/N was laid out on their shared bed, her legs spread wide with his slender fingers still working their magic in her. She had her back slightly arched as she moaned and panted softly at the contact that the doctor was giving her. He thought she looked so pretty in this state, so vulnerable to his touch.

“Get ready, Princess. Everyone is waiting for us.” Spencer whispered.

Y/N groaned as she tried grinding her hips against his fingers, but to her demise, his fingers exited her core, leaving her with an empty feeling. She got up and began to get dressed, not looking at Spencer the entire time.

She had a love/hate relationship with Spencer’s teasing. During their normal escapades, Y/N loved the teasing. She raveled in it. However, times like this are when she just wants to have her insides turned to mush by the man standing next to her.

Spencer chuckled and went into the kitchen. Once Y/N was ready, she made her way into the living room to grab her purse. As she passed Spencer to leave the apartment, Spencer slapped Y/N’s ass. She gasped at the action and turned to face him, but Spencer had her pinned to the wall in mere seconds. Y/N was taken aback by him doing this but she wasn’t the slightest bit upset with it. The aching between her legs yearned for Spencer. She pushed her pelvis against his and Spencer groaned.

“Wanna make tonight even more interesting?” He asked, ghosting his lips on the shell of her ear.

“How do you propose we do so my love?” Y/N panted.

“I get to tease you all throughout the night. No questions asked. You listen to everything I say as well. Remember, just because we are on opposing teams doesn’t mean you have the free reign to do whatever. I’m still in charge.” Spencer says darkly.

Y/N clenched her thighs together and simply nodded. Spencer smirked and released her, walking over to the elevator. Y/N fixed her outfit and skipped over to her boyfriend.

Once they exited the elevator and hopped in the car, Y/N’s phone went off. Emily was giving her a call from the bowling alley.

“Hey Em!” She answered.

“Hey! Where are you guys? We’re all here and drinks have already been poured. Not to mention all the smack talk from Morgan and JJ.” Emily chuckled.

“We should be there soon. Got caught up in something but it shouldn’t be much longer.” Y/N said as Spencer rubbed her leg.

She could feel Emily’s smirk through the phone as she wish them safe travels and hung up the phone. Spencer pulled into the parking lot and shut the car off. Y/N went to open the door before Spencer pulled her into a very passionate kiss.

It was the kinds of kisses that you give after not seeing someone for a long time. The kisses that the two shared the day Spencer came home from prison. The fireworks between the two were clear as day. With every movement of their lips, the couple felt flames between them. Spencer pulled away and looked at Y/N. He smiled and pecked her lips gently. All Y/N could do was smile.

The two exited the car and walked into the bowling alley hand in hand. The rest of the team had already started the game. They cheered when they saw Spencer and Y/N show up. The two gathered their shoes and bowling balls and jumped right on in.

About half way through the first game, Spencer started to get antsy due to his team’s losing streak. Spencer has never lost a game before so his tension was almost justifiable. He thought this would be the perfect opportunity to play with Y/N a little. She had glanced up to smile at Spencer, only to see him slipping the two fingers he had inside her only an hour and a half prior into his mouth.

The sight was a beautiful one to say the least. The dampness between her thighs came back as she crossed her legs. Y/N looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to their sexual build up game and thankfully no one was. Spencer licked his fingers again, nodding to the bathroom. Y/N excused herself from the game and headed to the family restroom at the back of the bowling alley. Spencer followed her a few minutes afterwards to look less suspicious.

A knock came from the door and Y/N opened to find Spencer waiting with his hands in his pockets. The two looked around to make sure no one saw them as Spencer entered the bathroom.

As soon as they closed the door, Spencer pinned Y/N to the door and slammed his lips to hers. She kissed back with just as much passion, tangling her fingers through his long, curly hair. He moves to her neck with ease and brings one hand to her waist while the other slowly wraps around the base of her neck. Spencer applied a bit of pressure to her airway causing Y/N to slightly choke. This only boosted her arousal. Y/N began grinding her hips against Spencer’s as he made his way down her neck and onto her chest, unbuttoning her blouse as he went. Y/N slipped her shirt off and threw it on the floor.

Spencer chuckled.

“Eagar, aren’t we baby?” He smirked, rubbing his hands up her body.

Y/N let out a breathy chuckle as she watched him slowly undo her jeans. He looked up through his lashes as he pulled her pants down to be met with his favorite black lace thong. Spencer bit his lip and ran his fingers over the delicate fabric covering where Y/N wanted him most. Y/N moaned as he swept over her dripping core. Spencer moved the thong over and entered the two fingers he was sucking on into her heat, moving them slowly.

Y/N arched her back and moaned softly. Spencer continued fingering her sweet pussy until he felt her clench around her fingers, signaling her upcoming climax. He stopped all movements and pulled his fingers out of her. Y/N looked down at her boyfriend with hungry eyes. He slowly kissed up her body until he reached her lips. She began to unbutton Spencer’s jeans and pull them down. Spencer pulled his boxers down, his erection springing free and slapping his tummy.

Y/N never got tired seeing Spencer’s cock.

She slowly dropped to her knees and kissed the tip gently, causing Spencer to gasp. Y/N took him in her mouth, starting with the tip and making her way down with slow, deep strokes. Spencer groaned quietly. He watched as she took him in so well.

“God Princess. You’re such a good girl.” Spencer panted.

Y/N hummed and took him deeper in her mouth. Spencer moaned and pulled her mouth off of him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a condom, slipping on him quickly then moved Y/N over to the sink and bent her over, lining his hard cock to her entrance. Y/N watched Spencer through the mirror as he slowly pushed into her, moans falling out of her mouth as he stretched her out. Spencer groaned and he moved farther in. Her walls clenched around him so sweetly, he felt as though he was going to burst any minute.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight.” Spencer moaned.

Y/N moaned as Spencer began to move his hips.

The feeling of his dick inside her was something Y/N loved more than anything when they had sex. The feeling of being filled up by him was more intimate and hot to her than any form of foreplay. She craved this feeling when he was in prison and the toys that he had bought her didn’t compare to Spencer.

“Daddy, I need more.” Y/N whimpered, encouraging him to go faster.

Spencer caught on and fastened the pace of his thrusts. Y/N could feel him in her stomach as she moaned his name. Spencer covered her mouth, trying to keep her from quiet so they didn’t get caught. He slammed himself into her more, groaning with every deep stroke. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer, his thrusts soon became sloppy. Y/N wasn’t far from her climax either.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum.” Y/N mewled, feeling Spencer move his hand to her clit.

Spencer began to rub her little button and Y/N nearly lost it. She was a panting, moaning mess. Her orgasm came quicker than expected as she clenched around Spencer’s cock, causing him to moan and cum right into the condom. As they both rode off their highs, Y/N panted heavily, resting her eyes. Spencer pulled out of her and disposed of the condom. The two got dressed and washed up before looking up at one another.

“I love you, Y/N. So fucking much.” Spencer said randomly.

Y/N smiled brightly.

“I love you too Spence.” She answered, pulling the lanky man into a hug.

They sat in that position for a minute. Nothing ruining the moment of love they shared. Y/N’s heart filled with so much love in times like this. It’s little gestures that make her realize how much Spencer really means to her. His feelings weren’t far off either.

Ever since Y/N started at the BAU, Spencer had been infatuated with her. He almost immediately wanted to get to know her. He wanted to know how she liked her coffee (not so light, very sweet), what her favorite book was, where she grew up. He wanted to know every little detail about her. His infatuation grew when he saw a book with poems and short stories from Edgar Allan Poe. Thus began the sprouting of their relationship.

Spencer kissed Y/N sweetly before he sent her back to the rest of the team. He soon followed out and joined the game. By the end of the night, it was a tie and everyone laughed and had a wonderful time together.

When Spencer and Y/N arrived home, the changed and snuggled into bed together. Spencer played with Y/N’s hair as they talked about the little things.

“Did you ever think we’d get to this point?” Y/N asked.

“What do you mean baby?” Spencer answered.

“You know.. just being together and being as happy as we are? I honestly thought that after my last relationship I couldn’t be as happy as I am. Then I met you and my life was changed for the better.” Y/N smiled as she looked up to him.

Spencer smiled and kissed Y/N for what felt like the a millionth time that night. He wrapped his arms around her waist and puller her to where she was laid on top of him. Her giggles filled the room and Spencer felt as though he couldn’t love her more. He studied her face before speaking again, taking in every detail that made up the love of his life.

“Y/N, you have gotten me through so much. I don’t know what my life would be like without you in it. I love you.” Spencer whispered.

Y/N smiled and pecked his lips, snuggling into his chest, sleep consuming her.

“I love you more, Spencer.”

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds smut #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #MGG #Matthew Gray Gubler #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #matthew gray gubler fluff #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler imagine

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one-boring-person · 3 years

Text

Requested by: @80s4life

I hope you like this!😊💛

What I Did To You.

Snake Plissken (Escape From New York/LA) x reader

Warnings: violence, injury, swearing, gun use

Masterlist

I have my gun levelled at his head before I've even closed the door properly, my face drawn into a fierce scowl, eyes blazing with anger. Every muscle in my body goes tense, my hand unwavering as I hold the weapon up, my leg throbbing in memory pain. Across from me, the intruder remains stood silently, his eye fixed on mine, his own hand still resting at his hip, ready to draw his pistol at any point.

"Hello to you, too." He greets me in the quiet way he always used to, his lips barely moving.

Frown deepening, I push the door behind me closed without looking at it, keeping my gun aimed at his head as I look him over. Not for the first time, he's covered in a light layer of grime, his brown leather jacket darkened in places by the dirt and lightened in others by the fraying, his boots caked in dust from the wasteland outside. His golden mane of hair is slightly dulled from exposure to the unforgiving sun outside and falls into his eyepatch, flicked out of the way every so often by a jerk of the head. A shadow of a stubble covers his chin, as it always has, disguising a few new scars I've not seen before...as well as one I know very well. Other than that, Snake Plissken has not changed at all.

My eyes narrow, grip on the gun tightening.

"Leave." Is all I say, shifting my weight onto my other foot.

"You used to have such nice manners." Snake's lip curls, the soldier taking a step towards me.

Instantly, I flick my thumb over the flintlock.

"Leave." I repeat, pulling the hammer down as the gun makes a dull clicking sound.

"No." He moves closer, standing so the gun is inches from his chest.

"You've got a lot of nerve coming here." I growl, oh so tempted to pull the trigger, "I don't know why you don't keep your distance."

A cruel smirk creeps onto his lips, eye narrowing as his head tilts to the side.

"Trust me, I didn't want to come here, either." He reassures me, "But I have no choice."

"I'm giving you a choice. Leave, or I'll introduce some lead into your diet." I retort, ignoring the burn in my arm from holding it outstretched. At this point, it's the only thing keeping us separated.

"I'll pass on both." Snake snorts, shooting a dismissive glance at the handgun pointed at his throat - now that he's standing closer, my aim only really comes up to his chest and neck, "Put the gun away."

I nearly laugh at him then, another surge of anger going through me.

"You're in no position to order me around. Not anymore." I practically snarl at him, keeping the gun where it is.

"Suit yourself. I came to ask for your help, the least you could do is be civil." He replies coldly, glaring at me now.

Again, the urge to laugh in his face goes through me.

"You came here to ask for my help?" I repeat, cocking my head in disbelief at the sheer balls of the man, "You really need to leave before I pull this trigger."

"(Y/n), we both know if you wanted me dead, I'd be bleeding out on the floor already." He points out, unimpressed.

"Maybe I'm waiting for an apology first."

This seems to catch him off guard.

"An apology?" He repeats, frowning in confusion, "For what?"

It takes all I have not to lunge at him and throttle the handsome bastard's neck in my hands, my leg flaring up in pain at the reminder.

"You know damn well what for." I growl at him, shifting off of my leg again, rubbing at it unconsciously.

Snake's eyes follow my movement, realisation dawning on him.

"I already apologised for that." He says quietly, clearly remembering back to the time I'm referring to.

It still plagues me, that one last operation we'd had to do together. Three years ago, back when we were still working together on jobs, good at what we did, the perfect partnership...except for Snake's tendency to protect his ego. It had been horrible that night, rain pelting the ground as we moved on the abandoned construction site, mud slicking our boots and trousers, foggy air making it impossible to see anywhere. I had told Snake we shouldn't go that day, that it would be better to wait until another, clearer night, but he insisted on the raid. He'd told me that he'd "been in worse" and that this was nothing, so we took our guns, knives and other equipment, and headed out into the wastelands to deal with the threat.

At first, everything had been fine: we'd managed to get in with no problem, creeping around the perimeter, taking out guards as we went, bodies sodden and filthy now, freezing under our light jackets. It was only as we moved to go further into the site that disaster had struck. Suddenly, gunfire was tearing into the ground inches away from us, driving us back behind an old container box, flashes of light appearing in the milky fog around us, our vision obscured by the sheeting rain, the mud making it hard to retreat. We later found out we'd been ratted out to the terrorists occupying the site, and they'd set up a trap for us, hounding us from the place with rifles spewing bullets at us the entire way. We had been close to escaping.

Then I slipped on a landmine.

All of a sudden, I was flying forwards through the air, agony erupting in my left leg as the flash of light and flames exploded behind me, my body crashing to the floor seconds later. Winded and incapable of moving thanks to the pain lancing through me from my leg, I had screamed out to Snake, hoping for him to return to me, the smell of burning flesh soon flooding my nostrils as my foot caught in the blaze. Howling in agony, I had tried to pull myself out, my fingers scrabbling at the slick mud in desperation, only for the pain to become too overbearing. I had looked for Snake, only to see the back of his head disappearing towards our getaway vehicle, paying no mind to me. It was then that I blacked out, my heart drowning in betrayal and hurt.

For a week or so, I'd been held captive by the terrorists, tortured sometimes, my wounds left to fester, bones shattered and out of place, burns turning ugly over the time. Eventually, another team had been sent in to rescue me, the group getting me out before it got too far. Taken to a hospital, it took me weeks to recover, every muscle and bone in my left leg needing to be reformed almost completely, surgeries being done near-daily to realign them all, the skin basically unsalvageable. I'd had four different skin grafts from various parts of my body, only to leave the limb looking twisted and mangled, basically useless to me until I was encouraged to learn how to use it again. That entailed another half a year of time spent working on getting it to full use again, and even now I can't go nearly as far as I used to. Every so often, the leg throbs, memory pain still hounding me since the day I got the wounds themselves, but I suppose I got off lucky: the surgeons hadn't expected me to make it through.

All of that because of Snake's ego.

His apology? A note sent to me whilst I was unconscious in the hospital.

"You and I have a very idea of what an apology is. Especially for something that kept me bedridden for months." I bite out, heart aching now at the memory, "Especially for someone who left me to die."

Snake purses his lips, swallowing tightly.

"I thought you did die." He says, much quieter now, eye roaming my body guiltily.

"You heard my screams. There's no way you didn't." I reply harshly, reminded again of the raw-throated shrieks for help.

He winces, looking down at his feet now, his fists clenched at his sides.

"I didn't think you'd make it. If I went back, I wouldn't have gotten out." He murmurs, sounding somewhat saddened by what he's saying.

"You wanna know how long it took those fuckers to get to me? Fifteen minutes. Fifteen! There was more than enough time!" I spit at him, face twisted in anger.

Once again, he winces at my words, only now realising the extent of what he did.

"And even when you knew I was alive, when I was in hospital, you couldn't even be asked to come and apologise in person. You sent a damn note." I shake my head, looking at him in disgust, "You're a coward. A spineless coward. Why didn't you at least show your face? Why? Why did you leave me to face the pain on my own?"

"Because I couldn't face it! I couldn't face seeing you there, lying in a hospital bed, all doped up, cut-up and bruised because of me! I couldn't face seeing you nearly crippled because of my stupid fucking pride!" Snake finally snaps, voice strained as his eye returns to my face, pain clouding the blue depth, "I thought I got you killed, (Y/n)! I could barely live with myself because of it!"

"Then why wait until now to find me? Why not come sooner?" I question, voice tense.

"I didn't think I'd be able to face you so angry and upset. I cared - care - so much about you, (Y/n), you have no idea how hard this is for me. I've lived with this guilt for so long." He fumbles for words, unable to voice his feelings as he always has been.

"How hard this is for you? Do you have any- argh!" I cut off in pain. As I was speaking, I'd stepped forwards, my leg sending a shock of agony through me as I'd done so, making me stumble forwards.

Snake moves closer, catching me before I can connect with the floor, his arms secure around me as my hands come to rest on his muscular chest. Blushing at the proximity, I try to ignore the butterflies in my stomach, pushing off of him to sit on a nearby chair, dropping the gun to the floor. Stretching out the affected leg, I sigh in frustration, the anger residing into the same loneliness I've always felt since I got the wounds that have left me like this.

Snake watches me silently, expression pained as he finally speaks.

"Can I...can I see? Please, I want to know what I did to you."

Surprised, I give him a sceptical look, before I hesitantly start to pull my trousers down over my legs. His eye widens at the sight of the limb, lips parting slightly.

Gnarled scar tissue crawls up my leg, discoloured and tight, appearing somewhat ghostly in the light of the room. Snake stares at it in horror, grief swiftly clouding his eye now as he falls to his knees in front of me, hands lifting to hover over it. He flicks his eye up to me, asking for permission, to which I nod, gasping as he removes his gloves and gently places his hands on the sensitive skin, a shiver going up my spine. Ever so carefully, Snake runs his palms over the scars, feeling them over with hesitant fingers, his expression becoming more and more open.

After a while, he looks up, pained eye meeting mine.

"God, (Y/n), I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry..." He grasps my hips, pushing his head into my abdomen as he wraps me into an awkward embrace, murmuring apologies over and over. Shocked, I hesitantly place my hands on his head, threading my fingers through his soft hair. An old tenderness springs into life within me, reminding me of why I used to stay with him, and what his riendship used to mean to me. Over the years, I had tried to forget it, but it's impossible - as he holds me close now, I realise I've missed him more than I'd ever let myself admit.

Snake pulls away after a few more minutes, caressing my hip as he looks up at me, thoughtful now.

"What job was it you needed help with?" I ask him quietly, twisting a strand of his hair between my fingers, "I'll work with you, if you drop the ego act."

He looks surprised and glad, a smallsile pulling at his lips.

"Of course." He promises, looking away again bashfully, "I only kept it up to impress you."

I blink in surprise.

"To impress me?" I repeat dumbly.

"Yeah, I, err, I've always felt the need to. Wanted to impress you so you'd consider going out with me." He admits, blushing furiously.

I blink again, head tilting in curiosity.

"Wait, what?"

"I always wanted to go out with you. Always." He chuckles, swallowing, "I've always loved you."

"You...you love me?!"

"Yeah, I do." Snake nods, biting his lip.

"Wow..." My voice trails off in surprise, unable to compute what he's saying, "I wish you'd told me sooner."

He frowns.

"What do you mean?"

I smile sheepishly at him.

"I've always had a thing for you, too. I just never thought you even liked me full stop."

"Really?!" He looks astonished.

"Yeah, really."

He's quiet for a moment, until a cunning smirk crosses his lips.

"In that case..." Snake leans up and connects our lips, kissing me softly but passionately.

A quiet moan escapes me, my lips moving instinctively against his, kissing him back in relief. His lips are chapped, but I can't find it in me to care as I pull his head closer to me, smiling as he pulls my body into him, his chest pressed firmly against my abdomen. In his arms, I can feel the pain of the last few years starting to slip away, still hooked deeply into me but starting to lessen, my eyes falling closed with the movement of his lips.

He finally pulls away, a content smile on his face, eye taking my expression in.

"So what's this job?" I breathe out, stroking his hair.

He grins lazily.

"Ever thought about going to LA?"

#escape from la #escape from new york #snake plissken #snake plissken x reader #snake plissken imagine #kurt russell #break writes

33 notes · View notes

snowe-zolynn-rogers · 3 years

Text

Pairings: None

Word Count: 1,727 Words

Summary: Touya’s first class in 1-A is a bit more complicated than anyone thought it would be.

Warnings: Food Mention, Child Abuse Mention, Cursing, Anxiety Attack Mention, Death Mention, Burn Mention, let me know if I should tag anything else.

Notes: Yes, I made Touya, Natsuo, and Fuyumi triplets. No, I won’t apologize.

Hair Dye Buddies: Chapter 2

In the morning, Kirishima lent him a uniform and he got breakfast with him and his friends, Bakugou, Sero, Kaminari, and Ashido. Breakfast was fun, he got to have whatever he wanted so he got to eat curry. He'd never been given options at home. He wondered if the lock was still on the fridge at home and how Shoto was doing with it.

When he followed the group to class like he assumed Aizawa wanted, he and his group had gotten there before everyone but a blue haired boy.

"Your hair looks good, Bakugou." Aizawa greeted the loud boy.

"Thanks, Kirishima did it pretty good. I look more like my dad finally." Katsuki grinned slyly as he sat with his feet on his desk.

"Alright, Touya. Your chair is next to Hagakure, the only chair by itself." Aizawa told him.

"I wasn't aware we were getting a transfer, Mr. Aizawa!" The blue boy exclaimed.

"We're not, Iida. I've personally taken Touya temporarily into the hero course for his own protection until we can find him a suitable housing arrangement." Aizawa told him.

"So he will not be here permanently?" Iida asked.

"As far as I'm aware, it's not permanent." Aizawa told him.

"I wonder how Todoroki will react." Mina smiled.

"How I'll react to what?" Touya asked her.

"No, your brother. You know, Shoto?" Mina reminded him.

"But what will he react to he's just-" The door opened and a guy with green hair came in and headed right for Iida but the brunette girl talking to the kid with split hair stopped his sentence. "What the...?" And that was the conversations downfall. "What the fuck prank are you pulling? What the fuck is this, Aizawa? Is this some kind of joke!?" He demanded.

"What's wrong, kid?" Aizawa asked.

"Why does he look like that!? Why is he so old!?" Touya was shaking, he knew he was shaking. What was happening? Why did Shoto look his age?

"What do you mean, Touya?" Aizawa asked and Shoto's eyes got wide.

"Touya?" Shoto asked.

"Why are you so old!?" He insisted.

"Mr. Aizawa, if this is Touya, he's supposed to be either 21 or dead." Touya felt his breath shorten. Dead? He was supposed to be dead?

"Shoto, how old are you?" Touya asked suddenly.

"I'm 16." Touya felt the world crash. Shoto was sixteen? He was supposed to be eleven.

"This isn't real. This is a nightmare and I need to wake up." Touya muttered.

"Touya, what's happening?" Aizawa asked.

"He can't be sixteen! He's supposed to be eleven! This isn't real! This can't be real!" Everything felt too much. Everything was too much. He didn't know how but he ended up on the ground, back against a wall, with Aizawa holding his arms. He knew he was crying but he felt like he couldn't breathe.

"It's okay, kid. Breathe slow. Everything's fine, I promise." Aizawa calmed him.

"What's happening? What happened to me!?" Touya choked out.

"I don't know but everything will be okay. I'll make sure of it." Aizawa promised.

"Mr. Aizawa, what's wrong with Touya?" Iida asked.

"He had an anxiety attack. Do you feel okay now, Touya?" Aizawa asked Touya. He slowly nodded and took some deeper breaths.

"I'm sorry, I worried you all. I shouldn't have-" Touya began.

"Don't apologize, it happens to the best of us." He assured him. "You seem to have been deaged five years."

"I lost five whole years?" Touya asked softly.

"It seems like it." Aizawa told him softly.

"What's gonna happen to me now?" He asked breath fast and shallow again, slowly realizing he would probably be put under his father's custody.

"Well, you'll stay here and I'll try to figure out if this is permanent or not. If it's temporary, I'll help you readjust when you grow up. If it's permanent, you'll stay here in UA and graduate with your brother and I'll take your custody to ensure your safety. Regardless, you'll get your final two years of schooling even if you age back up, since you didn't graduate in the first place." Aizawa assured.

Touya immediately tackled his teacher in a hug. He was scared, devolving into another anxiety attack at the overwhelming emotions. He needed someone close, something Aizawa reciprocated easily. He felt other arms soon and looked to find Shoto hugging him. His lungs loosened slightly at the comfort that nearly identical body against his brought.

"Sho?" He asked in confusion. Shoto was never allowed near him before, so why was he so close willingly?

"Deep breaths, you'll be okay." Shoto assured him. "At least we can pretend we're twins if this is permanent." He let out a watery laugh. Him and Shoto, twins? He never thought he'd see the day him and Shoto spoke without their father around, hovering, training.

"Joint birthday or separate?" He laughed out.

"Whichever you want. Maybe we can convince Dad you were a cover up by the nurses." Shoto, always the mastermind of a scheme.

"He'd believe that, the thick bastard." He smiled, wiping his eyes and totally smudging the eyeliner Mina had insisted on painting on his face.

"Mina, our emotional support emo messed up his makeup!" Bakugou complained.

"Gosh dang it, Touya!" Mina whined but Touya just smiled at his new friends and his newly appointed 'twin' brother.

He was okay, everything would be fine. Between Shoto and Aizawa, everything would be alright. Shoto and Aizawa got him up and Mina forcefully fixed his makeup for him whilst everyone slowly filtered in.

"Where's Hagakure?" Aizawa demanded.

"She's having issues with her insulin levels this morning and Recovery Girl insists that she stay in her office to be monitored." The raven girl in the back told him.

"Thank you, Yaoyorozu. Someone will need to fill Hagakure in when they see her next because we have a special announcement today." Aizawa began. Touya had been told to not speak until the end. Not hard given he was a bit overwhelmed and talking didn't quite come naturally to him anyway.

"As you can see, we have a new student with us. Some of you already know these circumstances and the situation surrounding the decision to allow him here today. I expect you to treat him like any other classmate you'd have here in UA." He threateningly lowered his voice, garnering nods from his student body.

"The new student is in limbo of becoming a permanent student due to his situation. He was hit with a quirk that deaged him five years, losing his memory and reverted him, either temporarily or permanently, to a sixteen year old once again." Some gasps from the room.

"I will be seeking his custody and he will be an honorary student come the end of today's school day, due to the limited knowledge of the quirk that hit him while he was older." Aizawa finished his speech. "Class, I'd like you to meet your new classmate, Todoroki Touya." He drawled tiredly and Touya had to wonder if he was actually physically tired or just emotionally tired.

"Hello Touya, we're very happy to have you here!" Announced Yaoyorozu.

"Thanks." He felt awkward with focus on him now.

"Todoroki? But we already..." The brunette girl began.

"He's my brother, yes." Shoto confirmed and everyone went about chattering about how similar they looked and how they seemed to have been meant to be twins what with Touya having cotton candy pink hair, a mix of Shoto's red and white. He always was the odd sibling out, he supposed.

"So now we have two of them!?" A girl he'd heard being referred to as 'Jirou' exclaimed.

"Yes. Sorry for any confusion that may occur around this due to our names being the same. If you'd like, you could likely refer to Touya by Himura, our mother's maiden name, or just begin calling us by our first names." Shoto told them as everyone looked to Touya for confirmation.

"Touya?" Yaoyorozu asked.

"It's fine by me." He quietly replied.

"Okay good, I'll call you Touya since you seem rather comfortable with the idea." She announced and he smiled.

"Thank you." He meekly hid in his chair. He wished for the focus to go elsewhere, like a lesson Aizawa was likely supposed to be teaching.

Eventually, Aizawa began to teach his lesson and Touya was asked to accompany them to Gym Gamma and to show them his quirk once they arrived so they knew what they were facing in later classes.

"I um...I don't know what it is anymore." Touya admitted.

"What? Anymore? What do you mean?" Aizawa asked.

"That guy, he thought my quirk was dangerous so he changed it. That's his quirk. He can change other's quirks. That's why I ran away, he changed my quirk to something else." Touya was quiet, afraid of his own new power.

"Well what was it?" The scruffy teacher asked.

"Strong fire. Like, really strong. Burn myself strong." Touya admitted.

"Well, whatever he gave you, try to use it. I can stop you if it gets out of control." Aizawa assured him.

Touya took a few deep breaths and tried to call his fire as he'd had it with whispy movements. No luck. Odd but expected. He tried something more rigid and geared toward Shoto's ice he'd seen once. Still no luck. He tried to call something more fluid like Natsuo's water. No luck. Minimal movements to change temperature like Fuyumi and still no luck.

Just when he was about to give up on hoping he still had the family quirks, he tried one more way, combining the rigidity of Shoto's ice with the whisp that was his own fire. And it was like a whirlwind of snow suddenly hit Gym Gamma and he gasped at the flakes falling on the brisk October day.

It was beautiful. He had a new quirk. No longer would his fire eat him up from the inside out, but this new quirk also had a beauty to it that truly combined their parent's quirks.

He looked up to find half the class playing in the snow of his own making, others smiling awaiting their training, and Shoto and Aizawa smiling proudly at him. He smiled and made some more snow at the demand of Kaminari desperately trying to make a snow angel on the ground.

Taglist: @lgbtforeverything @rin-tanaka @everythingisstardust

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alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer · 3 years

Text

all gone, all gone, all gone

part 3: it will not be at all or any better

CW: kidnapping, suicidal thoughts, manipulation, descriptions of bullying, child abuse, and toxic relationship

as a disclaimer (and acknowledgement), some of the dialogue is from what I remember of the book, and some of it is based on takes i've seen on tumblr that I agreed with!

Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3 | Masterlist

Thomas never made it to the Devil Tavern that night. His throat burned when he woke, a mixture of dehydration and whatever drug had been used to incapacitate him.

“There you are,” a familiar voice drawled. “Finally. I was worried I’d perhaps gotten the dosage incorrect and killed you.”

Alastair. “You were worried about me?”

“Ha, I suppose not. Would have been a lot more work if you’d died, though. Belial surely wouldn’t’ve been happy if I killed you before he got his hands on you.” He approached Thomas with a glass of water. “Drink,” he ordered.

Thomas wanted to refuse, but he was so thirsty that he could not stop to worry about whatever Alastair may have snuck into the drink. When Alastair finally took the glass away, he attempted to regain his composure. “What do you want from me?”

Alastair shrugged. “I’m sure Belial has his uses for you. Until then… I am to get as much information from you as I can.” He picked up a knife from a table and spun it around with a flourish. “Whilst leaving you in one piece.”

“Why are you doing this?” He hadn’t entirely intended to ask the question out loud, but it hung in the air anyways.

Alastair rolled his eyes. “What, you expect me to hold some sort of loyalty to you? What’ve you ever done to earn it? You truly expect the world to be handed to you, still? You despise me, Thomas. You send me rude letters and threaten me at large gatherings. Give me one reason why I should ever choose your side instead of Belial’s.”

A wave of guilt crashed over Thomas. He knew he’d made mistakes. He was simply angry. He was never trying to hurt Alastair. Thomas wondered whether he would have treated him differently if he’d known what he was hiding. “Cordelia. What about your sister?”

He shook his head. “Before, I had all of these ideas about what I owed her and the world and what I deserved myself. I felt it sensible to give all of myself to others, to give endless compassion and protection and patience to the people I cared about and accept when they gave me nothing in return. Belial helped me to see clearly.”

“What did he do to you?”

Alastair flung the knife, it soaring right past Thomas’ head. He braced himself but never felt an impact. The blade splinted the wood behind him. “Belial made me strong,” Alastair said coolly. Thomas could tell his outburst was not out of anger; he was making a play at intimidation. Thomas would not show him just how terrified he truly was.

“You were already strong.” Thomas’ heart ached for the boy beneath this creature that Belial had created. Though that wasn’t entirely true, was it? It had not just been Belial, it had been Elias, it had been every cut and lash that had led Alastair to the bridge that night. Perhaps some inflicted by Thomas himself.

“I was weak. Love is weakness. Perhaps it is not for everyone, but in my family? In my family, the cost of love is hopelessness. All of us are destined to love those who will never truly care for us.” Thomas thought of Cordelia. Did he know the marriage had been false?

“What did you think I couldn’t see how deeply my sister felt for James? How he disregarded her over and over again for Grace Blackthorn? I understand now that the situation was more complex, but my sister did not marry him thinking that he did not love her back because of a bracelet, she believed he did not love her at all. Such seems to be our curse. So when Belial came to me, when he offered me our deal, I thought, wouldn’t it be nice to not care, too?”

“Love makes us human, Alastair.”

“Good thing, then, that you and your friends already thought me a heartless monster.”

Thomas bit at the inside of his cheek. It was true. He’d spent months, years convincing himself that Alastair was cruel and uncaring. He wanted desperately to know how he could have confused hurting for heartlessness. A thought creeped into his mind, one that had been pestering him ever since he learned of Cordelia’s letter. Had Thomas been one of those people? One of the ones Alastair gave himself to and received nothing in return? He studied his expression, but could read nothing. “It was you, wasn’t it? The person who was following me when I went out at night? You- You were protecting me.”

Alastair didn’t waver. “Perhaps I was.”

“But… why?” He was correct, Thomas had treated him more than poorly the past few months. Why would he risk his life to protect him? Why would he do it all in secret, not even leaving behind a trace of his true intentions in his letter to his sister? In fact, he was fairly certain that if Alastair had been killed, if it were not immediately apparent that he had been following Thomas, he would have assumed that Alastair had some completely separate business that he was taking care of, and they merely happened to be in similar places at the same time. Why would he do that? Perhaps he did not want to risk exposing what Thomas was doing? Or… perhaps he wanted to save him from the guilt?

Alastair approached him non-threateningly, but he could not forget the dagger in his hand. “Because you have shown me kindness in the past, and there are not many people in this world who have done so. I thought it would be most unfortunate for you to die alone, recklessly trying to repair your guilt over not saving your sister.”

“I- I wasn’t- I was just trying to find the killer. So that no one else would get hurt. I had to go alone; going in pairs or groups… it’s too obvious. He would hear you coming.”

“Is that what you told your friends?”

Admittedly, his friends hadn’t asked very many questions about his whereabouts and his actions, so he hadn’t explained it to them. He didn’t answer.

“There may be an element of truth to that, but you and I both know that’s not the whole of it. You couldn’t save your sister. The killer may not have been responsible for her death, but it didn’t matter. Evil is evil, whatever form it takes. You went alone because you knew the risk you were taking, you knew the danger you were putting yourself in, and you didn’t want anyone going down with you.”

“How- How do you know that?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re not the only one who can be observant, Thomas.”

“I- I don’t understand.”

“Just another piece of evidence, proving human weakness. You were never going to save Barbara. You’re guilty over nothing. You risked your life for nothing.”

Thomas felt his anger rising again. “That’s not- If we had-”

“Did you think it was a coincidence that her and Oliver both got so much sicker so much faster than the others? That they were simply unlucky? There was nothing unintentional about her death. Oliver was unlucky, certainly. Unlucky to have loved her, perhaps. But your sister was dead the moment Belial marked her.”

“The welcome ball,” Thomas realized. “But why?”

“Tatiana,” Alastair answered without hesitation. “She has quite the grudge against your father. You’re the icing on the cake, of course. When your family learns of your death, when your father finally realizes why… The guilt will consume him. He will never forgive himself. Tatiana will finally have her revenge.”

“You- you said you weren’t going to kill me.”

“I’m not going to kill you, no, but only time will tell what Belial plans on doing with you.”

Thomas could find no words, only stare at him in fear and shock. That was what he wanted wasn’t it? Alastair placed his fingers against his cheek, and he flinched away. After a long pause, Alastair sighed. “Do you want to know what my favorite memory from Paris was?”

“No.”

“It was you.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Why is that? I would never tell you lies, Thomas.”

Thomas swallowed hard. Alastair’s voice was soft, filled with longing. It’s not real, he told himself. “All you have done is tell me lies! From the very beginning. I know you were in Paris with Charles Fairchild, anyways. I’ve seen the ways you look at each other. When we were together, your eyes lit up every time you mentioned him.”

Alastair hesitated for the briefest moment at the mention of Charles. Thomas cursed himself for still feeling the slightest pang of jealousy. “Pathetic, isn’t it? But no. My favorite memory,” his voice softened again, a sickly sweet melody in Thomas’ ears, “was taking you to see that film. I’d fallen in love with moving pictures during my stay in Paris. I’d fretted all night over it, worried that you would find it silly, or worse, you would mock me for it. But I wanted so desperately for someone to share it with. Charles never had an appreciation for art, not that he would have ever dared to go somewhere that public with me anyways. Afterwards, looking into your eyes, I thought… in another life... in another life, I could have been here with him.”

Thomas hated how his heart ached in his chest. He hated Alastair, even before this whole deal with Belial. That’s what he told himself, anyways. In another life… These are lies. He’s using you. “No chance we could go now then? I hear it’s beautiful during the holidays.”

Alastair smirked. He ran the cool blade lightly against the skin of Thomas’ throat. “Don’t you feel guilty, Thomas? You couldn’t have saved your sister, but you could have saved me.”

He hoped Alastair could not feel how hard his heart was beating. “No- no, that’s not true. There’s no saving someone like you.” He knew they were lies.

“No, not someone like me. Someone like him.” Alastair leaned forward so that Thomas could feel the breath on his neck as Alastair hissed, “He loved you. He would have died for you, in secret, even knowing how openly you disdained him. You gave him hope last summer. You helped him realize he deserved more than a lover who lied every time he claimed to love him, who never cared for him more than a Clave meeting and always left before the sun rose.” He frowned. “You could have saved him, if you wanted to. But you didn’t think he was worth it.”

“I- That’s not- I-” Thomas tugged at his bindings, suddenly filled with rage. “Shut up! I hate you! You now and you before! You’re cruel and callous! You never cared for anyone but yourself! Why were you even so mean to us at school? We never gave you any reason for it! Your family is friends with the Herondales; you could have at least been kinder to James.”

Alastair looked away wistfully. Thomas loathed it, how easily he replicated emotions. He felt none of them. “If you wanted an apology, Thomas, you should have asked for it two weeks ago.”

“Just explain it to me. You wish for me to feel something for the person you once were? Explain it.”

“When I arrived at school, talk about my family preceded me. The rumors about my father’s drinking, the speculation about why we moved so much. The fact that my family couldn’t afford tutors for us. I looked different than them; talked different than them. Shadowhunters like to pretend that such prejudices don’t touch them, but it’s only to make themselves feel better. I had no friends; I knew no one when I arrived. Who better to beat up than the Persian boy whose father would never show up when he was injured?”

“So you were jealous, that day after the prank. I thought you might-”

“No. I wasn’t jealous. I was angry. I was put in the infirmary for two weeks, I nearly died, would have were I a mundane, and all my father did was lecture me when I came home for the holidays about how I needed to be more careful and how much of a burden I was to him. You, James, your friends, you had everything. You had pretty homes with nice parents, parents who loved you, who cared for you. You arrived at the Academy expecting the world to embrace you, as it never had me.”

“So, what? You needed to even the scores?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. There are no scores, and if there were, I would never be able to even them. It had to be someone. It was the only way to keep them from hurting me. I had nothing, no one, but I had my tongue, and when I cut some poor student down to size, the other boys were so amused that they forgot about ever hurting me. I never hit anyone, never got my hands dirty, but it didn’t matter, did it? I was one of them. It had to be someone, so I chose you. I chose James.” He paused. “So, what about now?”

“What?” Thomas’ throat ached from holding back tears.

“Do you think I could have been saved?”

“I don’t know.” His voice was just above a whisper, more of an echo. It was the truth. He understood what Alastair was telling him. The decision he’d come to was not a rash, impulsive decision. It was one that was built up over many, many years. And with that was the knowledge that time after time, year after year, someone, anyone, could have helped, could have saved him, like Thomas’ own father had been saved when breaking free of his father, but no one did. No one noticed, and the ones that did didn’t care. “You deserved better.” A still silence fell on them. “You’re stalling.”

“How do you figure?”

“You’re meant to torture me, but you can’t do it. You never physically hurt anyone at school, and you can’t now. Maybe it’s morals, maybe your mind is still caught in your past, maybe some part of you still cares for me. It doesn’t matter; you can’t do it.”

“That’s quite the gamble.”

It was. There was no telling whether his speculation was correct or whether Alastair was about to place him on a skewer. He was simply trusting his intuition. “Prove me wrong. Hurt me or let me go.”

Alastair moved closer to him, essentially on top of him, but Thomas kept his eyes locked with his, not showing a flicker of fear. When Alastair’s arms dug in, however, he felt no stab of pain. His wrists came free. He watched as he slashed the binds at his ankles. Alastair kept his eyes on him as he left, his expression never swaying. I’ll free you next, Thomas thought.

* * *

"You let the Lightwood go?"

"He esc-"

"Don't lie to me! What, do you think you're special now? Do you fancy yourself human? Redeemable? You think yourself better, more moral, than I? You would betray me for them? You are exactly what I make you. If you wish to be sentimental so badly, you need only ask." With that Belial disappeared. The doors to the room slammed shut and Alastair nearly stumbled to ground. It felt like he couldn't breathe. It felt like- It felt like heartache.

He ran first to the doors, but he knew they wouldn't budge. There were no windows to this room and only one vent that would not move no matter how hard he tried to pry it open.

He gasped for breath, knowing there was no escape. Belial would not let him go free. Not after Thomas. He’d had a lapse in judgement, and he would not make the same one again. Alastair was trapped here, alone. Alone with nothing but the feeling of the world crumbling around him, of his guilt crushing his chest. Finally, he was all the things other people believed him to be: evil and heartless and cruel. Finally, he was all the things his father and Charles had called him: pathetic and weak and useless. Finally, he was the monster he’d always feared becoming.

There was no redemption for him, not anymore. Not after Belial. Not after betraying Cordelia. Not after kidnapping Thomas.

He looked to his blades laid out on the table. He could not leave the warehouse physically, but… He lifted one, and it felt oddly heavy in his hands. His grasp shook and he sunk to his knees. He gripped it tighter and he realized that Belial would never let him.

He had not let him die the first time, and he would not now. Belial wanted this, he wanted him to give up. It made him much easier to control. Belial wanted him to have no motivations, no loyalties, no reason to betray him. If he wanted him dead, he would be dead. Belial still had uses for him, and the only thing Alastair knew was that he could not let him win.

thanks for reading! we're almost done actually! taglist (lmk to be +/-): @jem-nasium @littlx-songbxrd @fortheloveofthecarstairs @cant-think-of-anything @vampireeugenia-deactivated20210

Part 4

#alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood #thomastair #tlh #the last hours #fanfic #fanfiction #all gone fic #cw suicide #cw kidnapping #cw manipulation

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blu-joons · 3 years

Text

An Unexpected Pregnancy ~ Kim Namjoon

Being so busy in your lives often left the two of you on different sides of the planet, performing to separate stages, but still loving all the same things. Music, performing, dancing, and most of all, each other.

Very little changed in your lives whilst you lived so distanced, life never really felt the same when you were separated, often catching different parts of each other’s performances in the opposite time zones you lived in.

The good mornings and the good nights were bothersome, but as you sat down at home with Namjoon back by your side, you were reminded again how worth it they were, for the moment like this that the two of you cherished.

Yet as he sat peacefully, unassuming of your heart pounding as you sat beside him, the box you had hidden under the cushion you leant on continued to poke into your hip as it’s own way of reminding you that it was there.

“There’s one thing that I’ve not told you yet that happened on tour,” you whispered to him.

“Really?” He smiled, turning back to face you, “I keep telling you that your memory is terrible, how do you keep managing to forget things?” He laughed, stopping however when he noticed the serious expression on your face.

You took both of his hands in yours, squeezing over them gently, biting hard on your bottom lip to try and stop yourself from getting too upset too quickly.

“I’ve known about this all along, I was just waiting for the right time,” you told him, “but I can’t keep it to myself any longer, I need to tell you about it.”

“Well, you know I’m listening, so whatever it is, just tell me.”

He made everything sound so easy, his voice was always one of your favourite things about him because it brought you so much comfort, but not even this time did his voice have the power to settle the nerves that you felt.

“I don’t even know how to really explain how, or pinpoint when, and I really don’t know how you’re going to react, just please don’t freak out,” you requested from him.

He couldn’t lie, even he was beginning to get nervous seeing how terrified you were to tell him. He was always the one telling you to relax and calm down, but now he needed all that effort just to keep himself calm and collected.

“I’m being serious when I tell you that there’s nothing to worry about Y/N,” he smiled, squeezing against your hands, pulling you closer towards him. “We’ve got all the time in the world so just give yourself a moment, and then why don’t you tell me, I’m not going to rush you into anything.”

You nodded, looking across at him with teary eyes, “just promise me before I tell you that you’re not going to overreact or walk away from me.”

“I promise,” he laughed, “it would have to be something serious for me to ever leave you.”

Your eyes rolled sarcastically as you reached behind you and passed the box over to him for him to take the lid off, taking a look at what was inside. “I’m pregnant Namjoon.”

“Are you actually?” He asked, unable to hide the wide smile on his face as he looked at the positive marking on the test. “Why on earth did you ever think that I’d leave you because of this?”

Your shoulders shrugged; all sorts of scenarios had been playing through your mind since you found out. Having to keep the secret on tour and pretend that you were fine, seeing how much it was going to affect your career, you were scared about doing the exact same to his.

“How do you feel about all of this?” He asked, moving his hand so that it rested over your tummy, feeling at the very small bump that was beginning to grow.

“I’m excited, and I’m happy even if this wasn’t part of our plans, I just didn’t want to mess up your career with this-“

“-you haven’t messed up anything-“

“-but I thought I might because your life is going to take a whole new direction now, you’ve got to balance traveling with a baby Namjoon, it’s not going to be easy,” you reminded him.

Whilst he knew that you were right and it definitely wasn’t going to be easy, it was a responsibility that he couldn’t wait to take on and enjoy with you right by his side. The two of you had always talked about wanting children, even if it was happening a little earlier than you both expected.

“There’s a lot that we need to talk about, and we will, but we’ll figure all of this out. Whatever sacrifices I need to make, I will do, and whilst I know this will be a lot harder on your career, hopefully we’ll find a way to both still get to do what we love and raise our family together.”

“You really think we’re going to be able to figure all of this out?”

He nodded, kissing lightly against your lips, “like I said, it’s definitely not going to be easy, but we’ve got so many people around us who will support us, somehow we’ll find a way to make all of this work. I’m not going to leave you behind, everything else takes a backseat in comparison to being a father.”

It was going to take a lot of effort from the both of you to find the balance between being two global icons and now becoming mum and dad. But you knew that if there was anyone who was going to help you through all of this, it was definitely going to be Namjoon.

“It still doesn’t feel real, like this is actually happening to us.”

“The last thing I expected you to tell me was that you were pregnant, but I’m so happy you are, I’m so excited to embark on this new adventure with you.”

“I’ve never been surprised as I was when I found out myself,” you smiled, “finding out you’re pregnant in a hotel room toilet isn’t exactly what they show you in the movies.”

“I wish that I could have been there with you.”

Your head nodded, but the two of you were all too familiar with missing out on different moments with each other because of how crazy your lives were in your groups.

“Have you told any of your members yet? I can’t wait to be able to tell the boys, they’re going to be so excited,” he chuckled.

“I didn’t want to tell anyone until I’d told you, it didn’t make much sense, but I think they all sensed something was up towards the end of tour, I was sleeping all the time and barely eating anything,” you reminisced, laughing as you looked back on it.

His smile grew, “I’m glad I don’t have to deal with all your sickness, I missed out on the bad part, and now I get to just sit back and watch your bump grow.”

“When the baby is here, you’re definitely going to make up to me the fact that you missed out on all the horrible stuff at the start.”

He couldn’t argue with that, especially when you were the one carrying his child, “I’ll do everything for our child, and for you, whether I’m here or out somewhere in the world, I’ll always be there for the two of you.”

“I’m so glad we get to do this together.”

“Me too, it’s just another part of our crazy worlds.”

---

Masterlist

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blackswaneuroparedux · 4 years

Text

Patricia Highsmith: The problem of good art made by bad people

No writer would ever betray his secret life. It would be like standing naked in public.

- Patricia Highsmith, the novelist writing to a friend in 1940

Patricia Highsmith, who died in 1995 having written a series of psychological thrillers, including The Talented Mr Ripley and Strangers on a Train and the romance The Price of Salt, left two sets of diaries hidden in a linen closet in her home in Ticino, Switzerland.

In one she recorded details about her professional life: plot ideas, philosophical musings and thoughts on writing. In the other she documented her private reflections and memories, including a single sexual encounter with the writer Arthur Koestler (a “miserable, joyless episode”) and her efforts, through psychotherapy, to “get myself into a condition to be married”.

She had no more compassion for men than she did for women. In one entry Highsmith writes that “the American male does not know what to do with a girl once he has her. He is not really depressed or inhibited by his inherited or environmentally conceived Puritan restraints: he simply has no goal within the sexual situation”.

Highsmith’s diaries, which run to more than 8,000 pages, have been pored over by biographers, but have never before been made public, or in this case interwoven into a single narrative of the life of a complex woman who thought deeply about themes of good and evil, loneliness and intimacy.

It was in her diary that she described becoming sexually obsessed with a customer at Bloomingdale’s in New York, whom she later followed to her home, provoking observations about murder and love.

She had an obsession about detailing absolutely everything in her life, very much like Sylvia Plath. And she drew on the diaries for her novels, which explore the notion of obsession, guilt and murder, and reject rationality and logic for the darker elements of human personality.” Dubbed “the poet of apprehension“ by the novelist Graham Greene, who said she “created a world without moral endings … Nothing is certain when we have crossed this frontier”, the Texas-born Highsmith was deeply influenced by European existentialists such as Albert Camus and Søren Kierkegaard, and those influences are deeply felt in her diaries.

She was a lesbian who hated women, totally politically incorrect in lots of ways, and certainly not a poster girl for the feminist movement. She hated blacks, Jews, men, and women. A sort of equal opportunities hater then. In mitigation Highsmith was self aware of her own beliefs and it mortified her and was a source of constant anxiety. She herself was fighting many demons including her mother’s rejection, an attempted seduction by her father as a child, and being sexually abused by two travelling salesmen. She had a tough life.

But there is a question over how far Highsmith can now be assimilated into contemporary culture of ‘wokeness’ and ‘MeToo’.

There is no question in person she could be a monstrous, violent and quite unpleasant woman. Knowing about her life and views could for some make it difficult to read her works. But for all that I think the diaries’ publication could help to again reveal that, contrary to popular imagination, creativity is not necessarily rooted in our best instincts.

These same highly culturally charged debates raged around the controversial French writer Celine in France. In Germany Wagner continues to be a touchy issue. Or back again in France, the recent controversy at the Césars where many people walked out as child minor rapist Roman Polanski was honoured for his latest film.

Going further back Gaugin was a pedophile. Degas was an anti-Semite. Caravaggio killed a man. Where do you draw the line? When do you draw the line?

Some argue art cannot be good or evil. Only the artist can. What he/she presents as art is a different dimension of thinking and somehow not really representative of the artist. I’m not entirely convinced by that argument. If only because great art is never transmitted through an empty vessel but is actively germinated through the life experiences of the artist. But also more importantly most artists don’t separate themselves from their art as they are convinced their art comes from the deepest depths of their being.

We don’t have to be puritans to acknowledge that some henious actions deserve more consideration than historically allotted to a consideration of the artist and his/her works.

But those who are ‘woke’ liberal left activists arguably seem to be advocating a one size that fits all approach. There is no wriggle room for discourse correction or allowing nuance to inform the conversation. And I use the word ‘conversation’ deliberately because such things are nearly always being worked out in real time and also each one of us ascribe different values to different things e.g. Picasso cheats on his lovers and so I don’t like his art, whilst others would say, so what? Grow up. There is a serious slippery slope that if you eliminate the bad artist and writer from the canon and you might as well eliminate art and literature itself. And that’s where we might well end up.

I believe that adjusting personal behaviour seems much easier than enforcing an interpretative cultural lens on a shifting audience and telling them this is how you should enjoy art.

I personally believe it’s a matter of personal conscience and conviction. If you’ve really searched your heart, and found that a piece of art is just that important to you, as many people do without admitting it out loud, then it should be fine to engage with it. But the imperative now is to privately think about why it matters to you. If I can justify that to myself then yes, I will go ahead and ‘enjoy’ that piece of art regardless of how much of a shit the artist was or is.

To me it’s not a question of compartmentalising, of ignoring or suspending my disgust with an artist's personal behaviour so as to concentrate on the art. I'm watching and reading because I expect art to be about moral dangers in a way that is less didactic than essays are. I expect art to be troubling because I expect people to be troubling. I am prepared to like and dislike something in every work. I can also appreciate the aesthetic genius of a moral monster without feeling that I am becoming inured to monstrosity.

For this reason when I for example look at Benvenuto Cellini, creator of Perseus With the Head of Medusa, was a murderer and a rapist. He killed at least two men and was accused by a model of sexually assaulting her. This does not stop me from looking with great amazement and curiosity at the naked and sexual Perseus With the Head of the Medusa. The knowledge of the immorality of the creator does not distract from my enjoyment of his creation; indeed I am made even more curious to know how beauty is perceived by a violently troubled man.

In the end for me, and I can only speak for myself, contrary to popular imagination, creativity is not necessarily rooted in our best instincts. Nietzsche said, “One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star.” I like that.

A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To the artist, to paraphrase Pearl S. Buck, a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this a cruel overpowering necessity to create - so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating.

In Patricia Highsmith’s case it’s revealing she said once in a sly backhanded way, “My New Year’s Eve Toast: to all the devils, lusts, passions, greeds, envies, loves, hates, strange desires, enemies ghostly and real, the army of memories, with which I do battle — may they never give me peace.” A true great artist never know really knows peace or contentment for this is the price of creation. The intensity of personal turmoil is the fuel of their creativity.

The Greeks may have believed that they had “muses” whispering ideas in their ears. Or that the Romans believed they wrote with their “genius”. But I suspect the best artists are those that are in touch with and confront their humanity, at their best and at their worst.

#highsmith #quote #art #aesthetics #bad art #literature #nietzsche

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henryobsessed · 4 years

Text

I Took You Home - The Morning After

Summary: Henry Wakes up in what he thinks is Lucy’s apartment

Word Count: 1633

Warning: Bare Chest, Fluff.

Previous Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Henry groaned his head was pounding, wondering how much he drank last night he gingerly opened his eyelids just a little. Dread hit his gut as he realised this was not his house or his bed. The duvet that was currently hugging his body was colourful and bright, definitely not his bed. Shifting a bit to look around the room he noticed his clothes hanging on the wardrobe door, whoever it was that had taken him home was at least kind enough to look after his clothes.

"Oww......." he groaned as the sun from a window caught his eyes, and he shut them tight against the brightness. Wondering where and with whom he was Henry tried to remember the night before. It had been a hard day. Nothing had gone right on the set of his latest project, and at the end of the day they had sent everyone home telling them to "Take a break over the weekend, and come back fresh for Monday" Frustrated and not wanting to spend the weekend alone again he had talked his friends into going out. But that was short-lived as they had ditched him, the vague memory of them all finding perspective girls to go home with and leaving his sorry ass to look after himself. That's why he had been so happy to see Lucy.

Eyes wide now he sat up remembering that Lucy had taken him home, but this was not her apartment, Had she moved?. Remembering somewhat now, he had not been sure how to get home, consuming more than he knew he should out of self-pity he had then seen Lucy. The rest of the night was blurring into a blackhole as the alcohol in his blood had concentrated. He heard the sounds of humming coming from the other room, this was going to be awkward he had not seen Lucy since they had broken up many months ago and he was sure she would not have been happy to see him in the state he was last night. So why had she taken him home? Shifting his legs out of the covers he felt, then saw the mess in his boxers. Still not sure what had happened and wondering if he had experienced a wet dream or if Lucy had given him a hand job decided he better clean up and have a shower before facing the music.

The hot water felt good as it cascaded over his sore head, the longer he stood there the more he started to feel human again. Stepping out of the shower he towel-dried his hair and then wrapped the grey fluffy towel that he had found hanging over the towel rack low around his hips. Grabbing up his boxers he walked to the door to the living room, looking at his boxers he asked, "Lucy, can I put these in the wash?" standing in the doorway separating the bedroom from the living room Henry looked up expecting an answer but was shocked into silence as a young woman stood staring at him, eyes wide a blush creeping up her face. Where was Lucy?

The woman seemed to shake out of her silence, placing a plate of Bacon, Eggs, and toast with Roasted tomato's on the counter her, a nervous voice broke the silence "I..I'll fix that for you, come, sit and have some breakfast. I hope you like black coffee cause I'm out of milk" She motioned for Henry to sit at the breakfast bar. Still not sure what was happening Henry followed his stomach. The food really did smell good and his stomach felt empty like he had not eaten in days. Sitting down the woman took his boxers from him and walked down the hall to a cupboard where it seemed she had a washer and dryer hidden away.

Henry started to eat not wanting to waste the hot food but with each mouthful he watched her. Her hair looked like Lucy's, but she was shorter and curvier. He watched as she finished setting the washing machine on and walked back down to the kitchen. Anxiety starting to sour his meal but deciding not to let it take control he chose to make the most of his awkward situation. Speaking between mouthfuls his deep voice rumbled " Mmmmm this is good, by the way, my names Henry, I'm sorry but I don't remember your name" He watched as her cheeks reddened but surprisingly she also looked like she was fighting back laughter. Tucking a strand of her reddish-brown hair behind her ear she said: "My names Reba" then turned around to pour the coffee into a mug. She looked so embarrassed at the moment that Henry felt sorry for her.

Wanting to rescue her, but still curious about what had happened, he smiled his best smile, the one that put his fans at ease when they were nervously taking photos with him. "Reba, that's an unusual name are your parents Reba McIntyre fans?" Reba turned back to him placing the hot coffee by his plate and smiled "Yes they were, Country music was played a lot in our house as I was growing up I would often walk out into the living room and find mum and dad dancing or rocking out to Reba" Chuckling at the picture she was painting he was thankful this question had seemed to relax her a bit, but now he needed to ask a more important question the one itching to be asked. "My heads a little unclear on what happened last night." Reba smiled a soft warm smile as if trying to ease his worries, the feeling startled him causing warmth to wrap around his middle.

He watched her take a deep breath and sitting down with her own breakfast she filled him in on the blanks. "I think you must have mistaken me for an ex-Girlfriend, you were really drunk but you have nothing to worry about you were still a gentleman, at least if I was your girlfriend. To a stranger, it was a little disconcerting. You are very strong and not easily dissuaded. Bob the bartender said you had been coming to the pub for a few years, and that you had always been good-natured even when drunk. So, I offered to drive you home seeing as your friends had nicked off on you. Once we got you in the car though it was obvious you couldn't tell me where to go so, I bought you here."

Everything Reba was saying held a sound of truth to Henry and he was embarrassed that he had imposed himself on this stranger. Rubbing his hand on the back of his neck he smiled a sheepish smile "I'm sorry to have imposed myself like that." she once again smiled that small smile at him again "It's ok, chalk it up to a new experience." He chuckled at her answer liking her light-hearted response. Finishing his plate and wanting to not be an imposition he got up and bent down to put it into the dishwasher turning to ask another question he was interrupted "so Henry what do you do?"

Shocked and slightly offended that she didn't recognize him He crossed his arms across his bare chest and flexed his biceps a bit, noticing her blush he chuckled thinking this could be a very fun morning. Keeping his stance, he answered "I'm an Actor" not ready to give more info than that Henry smiled his famous smile thinking this could be fun hanging around someone who did know him.

Seeing that she was finished with her food Henry took her plate and placing it also in the dishwasher. Hoping his action of bending over would also make her blush he turned back around to catch it, only to be disappointed as she had moved to the couch looking the other way. She didn't look his way again but asked him whilst gazing out the window "So what kind of acting do you do?" Henry walked over to the couch sitting at the far end to Reba however the couch was so small that there was not much room between them. It was too small for his big frame and he had to arrange himself in a way that the towel would not open revealing all. Stretching his arms along the back of the couch he looked at her to answer chuckling as he noticed the rosier hue still staining her cheeks. She seemed unable to look at him as he asked. "Have you heard of Man of Steel?" starting with his most famous film.

He watched as Reba scrunched up her nose in an adorable manner, then looked at him scrutinizing his face "I have heard of Man of steel but haven't had time to watch it yet any other films I might have seen?" Henry mentally noted her reactions as he spoke: "Mission Impossible – Fall out, Night Hunter, Justice League, Batman v Superman, The Man from Uncle, The cold light of day." Her face continued to look blank the blush almost completely gone replaced with her normal hue, slight frustration tickled his gut, as he thought, really? Maybe her job doesn't allow for much movie watching. "I've also done some Tv series – The Tudors and The Witcher" at the mention of this her face took on a shocked look. She seemed to be scrutinizing him even more, moving to put her legs under her she turned fully to face him. Her face then lit up and blushed with an all too familiar look he was used to seeing on his fans' faces. Her soft voice whispering in awe "You were Charles Brandon?"

Next Chapter 4

I have Tagged people who follow me and who I follow if you want to be removed or added please let me know :)

@keanureevesisbae @darkverrmin @viking-raider @littlefreya@madbaddic7ed @the-soot-sprite @thelastsock @lovetusilver20@crimsonrae @demivampirew @ladyreapermc@henrycavillobsessed @nitannichionne @runawayolives @heartfelt-pen @omgkatinka @star017 @llly113 @sad-ghost-of-garbage @ayamenimthiriel @starstruckkittyangel @lebguardians @summersong69 @notyouraveragemochii @imneonpanda @carriebee1 @ivyfatale @thereisa8ella @lucy930 @sarahmichelle5 @stuckupstucky @cleodoramer @kmuir1 @elliepower @xobriellaxo24 @xxxkatxo @supernovacocorocha @hennerslionhat @xo-mery-ox @waitedforlove743 @ladamari68 @coksy @wickedrum @harleyfranquinn @mysticalstrangerearthquake @justrae9903 @willkatfanfromasia @daddys-littlewhitegirl @cavilladdict @lebguardians @theblondetumbleweed @snowbellexx @radaofrivia @geralttheewitcher @acdd22 @thullyana @fanfictionaddiction99 @beckythfc1882 @heyheyharry @sauve-et-libre @shy-violet-soul @elliepower @msamericanrebel @minion-of-the-lord @xxxkatxo @oh-for-fic-sake @omgkatinka @pterodactylterrace @ruthoakenshield @inanna999 @libbymouse @witcherfan @enchantedbyhiddles

#drunk!henry #henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #Itookyouhome

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drethanramslay · 4 years

Text

Without You

Pairing: Logan x MC (Lexi Cahill)

Masterlist

Word count: 2.5 K words

Warning: Just a little cursing, here and there and Angst

MC is actually not present in this fic, this is Logan's POV, four months after he had to leave LA

Author's note: I decided to take part in @rodappreciationweek so here is my submission :))

Thanks to @choicesarehard @brightpinkpeppercorn and @client-327 for hosting this 💙

Thanks to @mvalentine for pre-reading it❤️❤️

Title inspiration: Without You by Avicii (ft. Sandro Cavazza)

Song: Gone by Blake Rose

Forgive me if I make any mistakes.

The rays of the sun spilled through the crack in my curtains, making the white walls a yellow hue. My eyes were bleary and red rimmed. It had just been moments since I woke up and my hangover struck me like a train wreck, a familiar electric pain behind my eyes.

I shouldn't have drank so much.

I moved my head to only see an an empty bed side. Of course she left. Who would want to stick around after a one night stand?

The hazy memories of last night filtered through my head, making me wince. Another night, another rave, another tray of shots and another chick to bang.

You could call it saturday shenanigans but, this was different.

Everything was different since I left her.

All my days just seem to melt away into a haze of alcohol and drugs... Today, tomorrow, yesterday seems to fuse into this neverending torture, an ache which no matter how much I drink or how many girls I fuck, never fucking ceases to hurt. The only thing which can fix this gaping wound in my heart is Lexi.

But she is not here.

And never will be.

So this is how it has been for the past weeks. Me getting inebriated to new extremes just to numb the pain and to temporarily erase the loneliness before I become sober again.

Because when I'm in those intoxicated wastelands, I'm so out of it that I can almost hallucinate her dancing with me. I can almost smell her strawberry shampoo, tickling my nose. I can almost hear her tinkling laugh.

And in my alcohol induced sleep, I dream of her in my arms the both of us fitting together, like two jigsaw puzzles.

I despise being sober. Because when I am In my senses, the entire load of loss weighs down on me, crushing me and suffocating me. The 'could have been's' and the regret are all a heavy burden on my shoulders.

A small part of me is often wishing, praying and hoping that things could just go back to normal but, deep in my gut I know, that nothing is ever going to be the same again.

Nothing is ever going to be the same, now that she was gone...

How much time does it take to get over people?

It may be a day, a week, a month or a year. There is no definitive time span for getting over someone you loved, someone you cherished or someone who was close to your heart.

I think it depends on how much of an impact the said person had on you or how much of a void that person left in you.

I was the wild and carefree guy, with no strings attached and never saw myself being the one to fall in love because... Let's admit it, love is a vulnerability, a weakness which people don't hesitate to exploit.

But fast forward to four months later, I am in the same category as those emotional pussies crying over a breakup.

Being brought up in foster homes made me grow up quickly. Some houses were good and caring whilst some were harsh. And knowing that I am the most cursed person to walk the earth, I was always was stuck with the shitty households.

Don't believe me? I still have those scars from the fights and the beatings.

Growing up in such a hostile environment, taught me that there is no room for weakness or error and that love and feelings are just some fairy tale myth which is made by philosophical fools to give you a sense of hope.

But, hope is a dangerous thing, two side of the same coin. It can make you and break you.

I don't think I would have survived my childhood but... That's when I fell in love with cars.

It holds a special place in my heart.

The way my adrenaline spikes as the pointer on my speedometer achieves unattainable speeds, the way I feel the purr of my engine resound through my entire body and they way it's just me, my car and the open road... Nobody could ever compare to that sensation of freedom.

Well, that was before I met her.

Lexi Cahill.

I admit it started off as a way to recruit her as an informant, a tool to stay out of prison, another heart to break.

But little did I know that life would pull the fucking reverse uno card on me. But, I'm low-key glad it did.

It's been 4 months since that scum bag was thrown into the jail.

Four months since the crew went its separate ways.

Four months since I walked away from her.

I don't want to let you go...

Those words were on a repeat in his head, like a broken tape recorder and her teary eyes and broken expression is forever burnt into his brain. It was so hard to let her go. The one time I found a reason to stay, a reason to fight for, a reason to stop running, life just fucked it all up.

It was a tussle, a war between what my heart wanted and the logical side of me which just left me exhausted.

In conclusion, heartbreak sucks.

I reach for my phone and switch it on to check the time. But my eyes fall on our prom photo which I had made as my wallpaper. It's really stupid how head over heels I'm in love with her.

But it's the truth.

There is a saying that life gives you only one great love and that many people go for years without that.

I was one of the few lucky people to get that at 18.

But life is not sunflowers and unicorns shitting rainbows. It's rough, it's hard with its a mix of ups and downs. But it seems like mine is set to be on the all time low.

Staggering to the bathroom, I heavily leaned against the counter, my muscles flexing as I gripped the edge. My eyes lifted to see my reflection staring back at me.

I look like a hot mess.

This isn't you Logan... My inner conscience said, which eerily sounded like her.

God, I really must be losing it, huh?

Slowly and painfully I started my morning chores, my body on auto pilot. My mind kept on wandering to Lexi. She would be in Langston by now.

Would she be in that off shoulder sweater of hers, her feather tattoo peaking from underneath the sleeve? Would she be highlighting and colour coordinating her notes like she always did?

Would she have made new friends? Or dare I say a new boyfriend?

Logan stop hurting yourself. I said to myself as I visibly cringed at the thought of someone else having their arms around her.

The idea of someone else kissing her soft lips or someone else holding her hands or someone else running his hands along the curvature of her naked back made me equal parts angry and sad.

Angry for you know, obvious reasons but sad for the life I had to leave behind in LA.

God I hate this existential crisis shit... It's to early to question life.

I dragged myself in the direction of the kitchen, the smell of bacon waking me up. I was shirtless and wearing a pair of sweatpants because I was too fucking tired to wear anything else.

"Look who has decided to grace us with their presence."

"Shut up Carl, it's too early for your bullshit." Raven said as she slapped the top of his head.

I shot her a look of gratitude as I sank into my seat and reached for the plate of pancakes.

Carl and Raven were the closest thing to parents for me. Carl was a tough man with huge muscles, around six feet tall but, he was as goofy as a child. Raven was his girlfriend who was hella intimidating. The kohl lined eyes and the floral tattoo on the side of her shaven head made her look fierce. Both of them were in their early thirties and ran the Detroit Central crew.

We three were in a different crew when I was 15 and they really took a liking for me. They taught me everything I know and they are the family that I always came back too.

I dug into my breakfast, eating slowly and savouring the sweetness of the maple syrup.

"Thank god you are atleast eating now." Raven said as she ruffled my hair and turned towards the sink.

I shrugged and Carl picked up the newspaper to read, settling into his seat. Suddenly, the bell rang which had all of our backs becoming as stiff as a rod.

"Were you expecting someone, darlin'?" Raven asked, trying to peak through the windows.

"Don't get up, I'll do it." Carl said as he picked up the gun on the counter and pushed it into the back pocket of his cargo pants.

I was frozen, terrified. I had been very careful in escaping but me being the reckless fool and getting drunk seven ways to Sunday may have tipped them off.

I'm such a colossal dumbass.

I could hear Carl's gruff voice talking but I couldn't peek at the person on the other side of the door. I just sank further into my seat, hoping that it was some lost person and not the FBI.

"Boy this one's for you." He moved aside and the person I least expected to see walked in.

"You look like shit."

"Good morning to you too, asshole." I rolled my eyes.

Colt walked into the kitchen, wearing his trademark leather jackets and dark jeans. His combat boots made a thud sound with each step which made my headache worse.

"Will you be okay, Lo-lo?" Raven asked, her eyes flitting to the jerk standing in her kitchen.

Colt snorted at the nickname but luckily kept his mouth shut.

"Yep Ra. Meet Colt Kaneko. Colt meet Raven and Carl." I spoke at I stood up and put my dirty dishes in the sink.

"Oh you are Kaneko's boy, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"We heard about what went down in LA. Our condolences. He was a great man."

He gave a nod. It was a sore subject for me as well. That night in the alley, I wished I could take it back. I usually am not one to regret what I spew but whatever I said to Kaneko is another burden I'm gonna carry all my life.

"Also heard about your crew busted the Brotherhood? You were the mastermind behind it right?" Carl said as he crossed his arms.

"As much as I would love to take the credit, it was Lexi who came up with the plan." Colt said his eyes darted towards me, gauging my reaction.

"The newbie? Heard she drives like the wind-"

Hearing her name felt like an iron fist clenching my heart. That name will always be the source of my happiness, my cherished memories and my melancholy.

"Colt let's take this to the backyard, shall we?" Logan spoke up, interrupting them.

He walked to the back door and Colt followed him wordlessly. It a sunny day but a cool breeze blew which provided some kind of relief.

I reached to take out two beers from the cooler and handed him one. Colt raised an eyebrow.

"Beer... At ten in the morning?"

I shrugged as I popped the bottle cap off mine. "It's 5pm somewhere else."

"That's true too. Cheers." We clinked the necks of our bottles and took a sip as we sat down on the patio chairs.

I turned towards him. "So what brings you to Detroit?"

"To see your pretty face?" Colt said sarcastically as he rolled his eyes.

I snorted. "Always knew you had a thing for me, pretty boy."

"Always knew that you had an ego the size of Jupiter, dickhead. Some things just don't change."

I sighed. "Can't say the same for me through. Everything is different now."

Surprisingly, Colt didn't mock him. He stared down at the bottle in his hands. "Yeah... I can understand. How are you holding up?" He asked as he turned to face me.

I took a huge gulp of my beer before responding, my eyes staring at the mango tree in my neighbor's back yard.

"Not too good. It's been hard for the last couple of months. Kaneko's death, leaving LA and maintaining a low profile... It's been tough."

Life without Lexi is tough.

"Yeah I can understand. I still imagine pops opening the door to wake me up. And don't get me started on the FBI... bunch of bloodsuckers." He muttered the last part.

I snorted. "I'll drink to that."

"Good thing they are off our backs now." Colt spoke eyeing him from the corner of his eyes.

I scoffed. "Bitch please. They are anything but lazy. They are gonna continue hunting us down till the end of time."

"I meant that we are not the top priorities at the moment. Sure Mona was sent to jail but, a little birdie told me that they are after this 'world class' thief at the moment."

"That's a relief I guess."

"Do you know what this means?" He asked taking another sip of beer.

"It's too early for my brain to function. Come to the point, asshole."

"We are rebuilding the crew, dickhead."

My eyes widened. "No way."

"Yup." He said popping the 'p'. He downed the remainder of his beer before standing up. "I'm done repairing the garage. We have a job in two months and I need a crew for that. I already have Ximena on board and now I'm gonna go over to Toby's."

My mind was swimming. Mercy Park Crew was coming back for good.

I looked up at him, suddenly nervous. "What about Lexi?"

He rolled his eyes. "When I said I'm rebuilding the crew, I also meant recruiting Lexi, dumbass."

Oh god.

She is going to come back.

I was frozen in my place once again. I had often asked myself how I would react if I got the chance to meet her again. I always imagined that I would let out the loudest cheer and dance like a mad man.

But this is reality and my thundering heart was a reminder of that.

"Why are you sitting there with your mouth open like a fish? Go! Get your girl."

And that was it. I rushed to my room, put on some decent clothes and haphazardly stuffed my things into my satchel. Grabbing my keys and yelling a quick good bye to Raven and Carl, I was out and in my 2005 Devore GT.

Reving the engine I took off on the roads of Detroit, heading for the highway.

The window was open and the breeze threaded through my unruly hair, making me feel alive. My hands clutched the wheel and my foot pressed down on the accelerator, speeding through the empty streets.

For the first time, in a very long, the roads which felt like a never ending maze for me, were the very ones which were the path to my freedom.

The path to my happiness.

The path to my Lexi.

I hope you liked it 😊

Logan x mc: @kaavyaethanramsey @openheart @skylarklyon @shadowycreatorpaperopera @pixelberryownsme @magicalshepherdtreeprofessor @anotherbeingsworld

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#anushka writes #logan x mc #logan rod #ride or die #ride or die: a bad boy romance #choices rod #rod choices #rodaw #rod appreciation week #colt kaneko #rod colt #choices stories you play #choices stories we play #choices #pixelberry #playchoices #rodappreaciationweek

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interstellarflare · 4 years

Text

Welcome Home Soldier || Alex

~PART ONE~

(Call of Duty: Modern Warfare)

Warnings: Swearing, violence, gore.

Summary: After destroying Barkov’s chemical factory in Georgia, and in the aftermath of Alex’s death, you return home for some much needed R&R. But after a surprise visit from Price, you are called back to the line of duty with the delivery of some shocking news.

Author’s Note: There might possibly be a part two? I’m unsure as of yet. I know where I want this series to go, and I have multiple parts planned, but I’m not sure if I should write them. Let me know what you guys think, and a tag list is open. If you want to be added just comment. Enjoy!

The afternoon sky in Washington D.C. was a vibrant violet, fading into pastel shades of blue, pink, yellow and orange over the horizon.

“You’re gonna be home for an entire month!” My nephew, Max exclaimed, jumping up and down excitedly as we made our way home from the park. I laughed softly, nodding my head as a kind smile graced my lips. “You bet! That means you get to come over whenever you want” I mused happily, chuckling as Max wrapped his small arms around my middle, cheering ecstatically as we turned onto my street.

“We are going to have so much fun...” Max began, taking my much larger hand in his smaller one “we can stay up every single night, and make hot chocolate with the little marshmallows and...Oh! We could go to the museum, and...” my mind began to wander, as Max continued to list all of the various things he wished to do. A week. Had it really been a week, since Alex was killed in Georgia? Laswell, after hearing my plea for some R&R, allowed me to return home. There was no doubt that Alex’s sacrifice weighed heavily on everyone. I could still feel Price’s arms wrapped around my torso, holding me back as Barkov’s factory burned.

The memory caused me to feel sick to my stomach, my heart breaking as I realised I would never see that bastard again. A faint hollow smile formed on my lips as I remembered our first meeting. Alex and I had despised each other.

I had been in Urzikstan a few days prior to Alex’s arrival. Having been with Price upon rescuing Farah and Hadir from a Russian chemical lab, Farah welcomed me with open arms. She explained to me that she considered me as one of her own, a very close friend. Even going as far as to call me her sister in front of her brother, which he wasn’t too pleased about.

Farah, Hadir and I stood around a small table as several of Farah’s troops hauled Alex into the room. Forced to sit down opposite both Farah and myself, an annoyed expression forming on his face. ‘What is your message from Captain Price?’ Farah asked blankly, stepping forward out of the shadows towards him with her arms folded over her chest. For a brief moment, Alex’s eyes met mine. They skimmed over my military uniform, my vest, clearly displaying the American flag front and centre. ‘Commander Karim...’ he spoke somewhat awkwardly, trying to keep a level head ‘call me Alex’. ‘I’m listening Alex’.

His eyes met mine again, before motioning to the other soldiers in the room. ‘This is classified...’ he spoke lowly, whilst Farah motioned for her team to leave the room. I remained, much to his annoyance and confusion, but he didn’t say a word. The two of them began to talk, about the stolen Russian gas, which was now likely in Al-Qatala’s hands. Price had briefed me on most this, so I didn’t bother listening to much of what was said. ‘We would never use these poisons...’ Farah retorted sharply, whilst Alex breathed heavily ‘Then help us track it before-’

‘Before they what? Take it to Europe? Or America?’ she continued, releasing a breathless laugh. Alex remained silent for a moment, listening to Farah as she spoke, but before she could go on, the door behind us opened. I turned to watch as Hadir walked past, standing beside his sister. ‘Commander, it’s time to go...’ he informed, his presence only adding more pressure to the situation. I remained silent as they conversed, introductions and so-forth, while they filled Alex in on our plan to attack the airfield. ‘What do you think, Y/n?’ Karim asked, casually turning her head to meet my shadowed form. All eyes were on me now, including Hadir and Alex. I shrugged, pushing off from the wall and joining them at the table, ‘I think Price chose well...’ I drawled, meeting Alex’s gaze ‘I’ll let him know we received our newest recruit in one piece-’

‘Hang on a second, you know Captain Price?’ Alex spoke bewilderedly, his eyes widening in shock. I nodded as Farah and Hadir laughed to themselves, ‘We’re more like family, actually...’ I spoke quickly ‘but yes. I do’. ‘Then why the hell did he send me here and not just tell you?’ He snapped, his surprised tone suddenly changing to malice. My eyes narrowed as I stood tall, folding my arms over my chest, ‘Because we needed you here...’ I responded lowly, watching cautiously as Alex held his ground ‘we need all the help we can get around here’.

I felt myself smiling in amusement. Alex and I hadn’t really started to get along until we became trapped together in the tunnels below the Wolf’s compound. He had pulled me aside afterward, awkwardly expressing how worried he was when we had become separated.

I was brought out of my memory when Max suddenly tugged on the sleeve of my jacket. “Aunty Y/n, who is that man standing outside your house?” he asked quietly, leaning into my side shyly. With a confused expression, I turned my gaze towards my front door. Sure enough, parked in front of my house was a black sedan, with a very familiar figure leaning against its side. I mumbled a few curses under my breath, sighing heavily as I held Max’s hand tightly. “You couldn’t give me one goddamn week to myself?” I called out sarcastically, approaching the front of my house with an annoyed expression.

Price laughed lowly, folding his arms over his chest as he pushed off the sedan. “I know, and I want you to know that I am sorry for turning up out of the blue...” he began, stopping before me with a solemn expression “but this couldn’t wait. I thought it would be best if I told you in person rather than over the phone”. I nodded my head slowly, biting my lip awkwardly as my mind raced with possible outcomes. If Price was here now, then it had to be serious.

Another tug at my jacket sleeve, and I realised my nephew was still present. I cleared my throat awkwardly, wrapping my arm around Max’s frame with an uneasy smile. “Price, this is my nephew, Max...” I introduced, looking between the two with a small cough “max, this is John Price, a work friend of mine”. Immediately, Max’s expression brightened, his attitude completely changing and becoming more vibrant. His eyes sparkled, though he remained silent. I looked back towards Price, motioning with my head for him to follow. “Come on, we’re having spaghetti with little hit dogs for dinner, Max’s favourite” I teased, unable to help the amused laugh that escaped my lips as Price shook his head, smirking at my mocking tone.

“Spaghetti and little hot dogs!” Max shouted excitedly, “Why didn’t you tell me!?”. “Because it was a surprise!” I responded, turning back to face Price with a small roll of my eyes. As we all stepped inside the house, I couldn’t help but focus on the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

After a late dinner, because Max kept pestering Price to tell him about how we came to work together, my nephew eventually went to bed. Surprisingly, Price was exceptionally good with kids. Then again, he had dealt with more difficult things than a child. As I descended the staircase, I could hear Price chuckling from the kitchen. He remained at the island bench, drinking a bottle of beer as I entered the room. “Your nephew is quite adorable” he laughed, taking a small swig from his drink before him as I stood opposite him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard the word ‘adorable’ come from you in the long time since I’ve known you” I spoke mockingly, to which Price snorted in amusement. “Fuck off...” he grumbled with a mocking pout, “Max is going to be a great man when he grows up”. I nodded with a low hum, leaning on my elbows with a small sigh. “So...what did you want to talk to me about?” I asked hesitantly, my tired eyes meeting his own as I waited for his response. This time, Price downed what remained of his beer, clearing his throat before releasing a long sigh. “We received intel from some operatives in Georgia, something I’m not sure I even quite believe” he spoke lowly, clasping his hands together on the bench before him. I sighed in mild annoyance, rolling my eyes. “Price...” I spoke sharply “please, just tell me what is going on”.

His silence caused the uneasiness in my stomach to increase. Then again, it had been steadily growing since Price arrived. With a huff, Price’s eyes met my own. “Alex is alive”.

I choked, gasping slightly as my eyes widened in shock. Alex was alive? I felt my heart stop, my chest suddenly filling with a mixture of emotions; bewilderment, happiness, shock, sadness...

“How?” I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper. “The factory it...it exploded. He-he died-” “That’s what we all thought...” Price mused quietly, shaking his head slowly “but as far as we know, he’s gone AWOL. He’s been charged with desertion-”

“Desertion!? Why?” I exclaimed, feeling the familiar sting of tears welling within my eyes. Sensing my distress. Price stood from his seat on the opposite side of the bench, making his way over to my form. With a simple gesture, Price wrapped his arms around my frame, pulling me into his side as he held me close. I didn’t know whether to scream or cry, whether to be happy or sad. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear...” Price spoke calmly, comfortingly running his hands up and down my arms “but I need you to come back. We have a situation unfolding in Verdansk . Al-Qatala is under new leadership, and causing a hell of a lot of trouble”. Pulling away from Price’s embrace, I sighed heavily and ran a stressed hand through my hair. I turned my gaze toward the clock on the wall, checking the time with a small sigh.

9:30pm.

“Okay, well...I’ll have to call Max’s dad and, get him home before we leave”. Price nodded his head as I continued “You make yourself at home while I talk to Max, and get everything organised. Wordlessly, Price made his way over to the living room and sat down, while I began to make my way upstairs to prepare for the oncoming onslaught of the massive guilt-trip awaiting in my nephew’s room.

#call of duty x reader #call of duty imagine #alex #alex x reader #alex imagine #call of duty #echo 3-1 #echo 3-1 x reader

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quietlyimplode · 4 years

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@whumptober2020 - Day 19 - Survivors Guilt.

Day 1 - Waking Up Restrained // Day 2 - Kidnapped // Day 3 - Manhandled // Day 4 - Caged// Day 5 - Rescue // Day 6 - No More // Day 7 - Support // Day 8 - Isolation // Day 9 - Take Me Instead // Day 10 - Blood Loss/Trail of Blood // Day 11 - Psych 101 // Day 12 - Broken Down // Day 13 - Oxygen Mask // Day 14 - Alternative Prompt - Comfort // Day 15 - Into The Unknown // Day 16 - A Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day // Day 17 - Wrongfully Accused // Day 18 - Paranoia // Day 19 - Survivors Guilt

CW - Discussions of Child Abuse.

She’s looks at her hands.

“Nothing. It’s fine. It’s just thoughts.”

“Sometimes talking through your thoughts helps, right?”

“They’re not good thoughts.” She cautions.

“That’s ok, that sometimes happens.” He says carefully.

——-

She’s been cranky all day. He doesn’t want to bother her again with a suggestion to do something so he sits on the laptop and writes up mission specs, research into bows that can have delayed explosions once they hit and anything else that lets him sit with her but not interact. Every time he’s suggested something like getting something to eat or watch or do, he’s met with a ‘no’ or a look. He’s stopped now, the days pretty much gone. She’s been intermittent in reading and staring at nothing, he wonders if he should be concerned. It’s like she’s mulling over something, but whatever it is it must be a big something, because whatever got her into this funk is not going away anytime soon.

He throws a cookie at her and it hits her in the chest. Leaping up, she draws her gun on him. Hands up, he cocks his head. “That’s not the response I thought I’d get by throwing you my last cookie,” he says flippantly for someone how has a gun aimed at his head.

“What the actual fuck, Clint.” She puts the gun back under the pillow (god she has guns everywhere) and sits back on the couch. Where before she was laying down and relaxed, she’s now on edge. Whoops. He hadn’t meant to do that.

“You okay?” He checks in, knowing the answer is no.

“Yeah.. I -“ she lays back down, not finishing the sentence.

“You hungry?” He looks pointedly to the cookie now on the floor. “I can throw you something else?”

“No,” comes the response, then a beat and “thanks though.”

He gives up.

If she wants to be in a mood, that’s ok. He tries not to let it send him into one.

As a last ditch effort, he asks, “wanna spar?”

She looks up.

“Yeah. Yeah ok.”

He grins big. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, just let me get changed.”

He tells her he’ll meet her on the mats, and heads down to the gym, making sure they’re free and that no-one is around. They haven’t spared in ages and he’s seen her take on Steve. They’ve come to an understanding since they spoke the other day to come together in the gym. He knows Steve is going easy on her, hell she knows too.

She arrives in a zip up hoodie and shorts, still not ok with neck things, he notices.

“How you wanna do this?” He challenges.

“Wanna do take downs?”

“Umm. No. How about tagging?” The ‘game’ of choosing a body part and protecting that by all means whilst trying to attack your partners and tagging it. Clint finds it a good warm up game, but also helps to gauge where she’s at.

“Sure. What part? Head?” She follows up immediately.

“God Nat, are you angry with me? No. You’ve lost enough brain cells.” A wry grin.

“Ok, stomach?”

“Nah, how about butts?”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine. But I chose next. Best to five?”

“Ok, but no heads,” he cautions.

They move around each other, Clint throws some easy shots, which are parried by Natasha, each choosing opportune times to attack. They’re up to 2 shots a piece when Clint calls for a break. They’ve been going for 20 minutes and he’s tired. Deconditioned might be the better word. Grabbing water from the nearby fridge he throws one to her, and takes another for himself.

“What’s up?” He says sitting on the mats next to her. “You’ve been in a mood all day, and you’re clearly not thinking here - I left several openings and you didn’t take one.”

She’s looks at her hands.

“Nothing. It’s fine. It’s just thoughts.”

“Sometimes talking through your thoughts helps, right?”

“They’re not good thoughts.” She cautions.

“That’s ok, that sometimes happens.” He says carefully.

“Do you ever think that we shouldn’t be here? That I shouldn’t be here?” She starts. He ponders whether to cut her off or let her go now she’s started, if he interrupts he worries that she’ll shut down. He lets her go on, prepared to cut her off.

“The odds of me surviving the Red Room, the sadists, the torture, the lessons; I can’t tell you how slim that was. It was only by chance that I survived that and others didn’t. Once, they had us locked in the basements with no food, only water and then gave us food after 5 days. I think the expectation was that we’d fight over it, kill over it. But you know, we were smart; we knew what they wanted and even though we knew we’d be punished; we shared it. I think we all thought it would be our last meal, we didn’t say it but I know we all felt it.. I don’t even remember their names. But I know their faces. The repercussion of that incident was, for lack of a better word, brutal.” She pauses takes a drink of water, Clint nods at her to continue, these are things Natasha never talks about. Things he’s only heard snippets of, from dreams or nightmares, from flashbacks to dissociation. Therapy must have opened some wounds right up, because volunteering this information is something he’d never thought happen. “we were separated after that. Only brought together for lessons. To fight each other. To best each other. Kill. Maim. Torture. To weed ourselves down to 28.” She takes a deep breath. “And now. Gods and monsters, we hold our own Clint, but I don’t have your skills, Tony’s armor, Bruce’s abilities. I have a boss who trusts my judgement on others but doesn’t trust me. Not enough to tell me that he’s faked his death or to tell me that Hydra was coming because in my previous life I was a turncoat, a ‘predatel'’ and that I might be playing both sides as well..”

Traitor, Clint’s mind supplies, tripping up on the Russian.

“Sometimes I can’t help but wonder, why me? Why did I survive it, when so many others didn’t? I’m not special or smarter or anything.. I just. I don’t even know..” she stops. Looks up at him.

“You know?”

He does. He really does. But he really doesn’t know how to address it other than talk of his own feelings of self worth. A story for a story, he supplied in kind.

“Barney would leave me, for hours, when we were at the circus. I didn’t trust any of them. Some of the others would pick on me, come looking for me when they knew Barney was out. I didn’t know at the time he was helping them with some pretty illegal shit, but I did know to hide myself, and I did know how to become invisible. There were others, my age, maybe older, that didn’t have that skill so when they’d move on from me, they’d go look for them. Beat them. Make them do tricks for the sheer fun of making them do something over and over again; taunt them. I’d watch, from up high, and wonder if I should save them from it. But if it wasn’t them, it’d be me. Those kids, they didn’t last long; they’d leave, some died and others; well I don’t really know what happened but I know it wasn’t anything good.” he grabs his own water and feels his heart rate quicken. Suppressing a memory.

“My point is, that there’s been shit that’s happened to us that no kid should go through. That’s not on us, yeah?”

She nods, slowly.

“And I suppose as adults we build our own support systems. Look at you, and how much work you’re putting into getting rid of this trigger? God Nat, we’ve made it this far. Not only that, we’ve found each other. And others that have our backs. Look at Tony; he’s done everything to make sure we are safe, Pepper keeps baking us shit, and Steve holds back on whooping our asses daily, Bruce and Cho, even Fury and Maria and May too. What are the chances we’d find them, or find a team that’s as fucked as us?” He smiles.

“Right?”

She nods slowly.

“I suppose.”

“It’s never going to go away, that feeling of why us.” He reckons. “but maybe it’s like the lottery; you win some you lose some.”

Natasha stands. Looking, he supposes, somewhat brighter.

“Come on slowpoke. It’s 2-2, someone has to win. Like the lottery,” she teases.

———

#whumptober2020 #day 19 #survivors guilt #clintasha #natasha romanoff #black widow #clint barton #hawkeye #tony stark #clintasha fic #child abuse tw #violence cw #discussion of child abuse #let me know if there are other tags i need to put in #red room cw

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thegoodprincess · 3 years

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Together We Are Apart, but Apart We Are Together | KTH Ch. 5

Author: thegoodprincess

Pairing: Kim Taehyung | Original Female Character

Genre: romance, fantasy, action, forbidden love, human KTH | angel of death OC, supernatural au

Word Count: 2.9k [series, ongoing]

Rating: N/A

Warnings: Extremely brief mentions of blood. (Taehyung sadly doesn’t appear in this chapter 😭.)

Summary: After admiring a handsome boy from afar, an Angel of Death reluctantly rescues him from his own demise. As a result of going against her better judgment she inadvertently invites him into her world.

Together We Are Apart, but Apart We Are Together

Chapter 5. Revelations

“I chose you even before I met you.”

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I was both physically and emotionally exhausted by the time Malachi put the boy to bed, yet I still found myself pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. The air around me felt thick with tension as I began to recognize the gravity of the situation that had unfolded tonight. I found myself wringing my hands out of habit to get the pent up jitteriness out of me. My shoulders ached. I was acutely aware of how the pain started in the base of my neck and gradually crawled down my spine. It only stopped to settle when it reached my lower back. But even the pain couldn’t distract me enough from the twisting knot of anxiety in my stomach.

I stopped pacing to stare absentmindedly into the fireplace. Narrowing my eyes I fixated them on the way the flames licked around the edges of the firewood. They vaguely reminded me of the way the blood-tinted-water curled around the boy’s body as he sunk unconscious towards the bottom of the river. Upset at the memory, I dug my toes into the fibers of the Persian rug beneath my feet. But to no avail, it only spurred an entourage of other images. I unwittingly began to recall every minute detail of tonight’s events. Harrowing flashes of sights, sounds, sensations, smells and even tastes replayed over and over.

If I closed my eyes and focused hard enough I could see the panicked expression on the boy’s face when he’d realized he was falling, the bright red droplets of blood splashing against the backdrop of white snow, and the pale white translucency of his ice cold skin. I could clearly hear the sound of the bullet exiting the gun, the boy’s body breaking through the ice, and the way he gasped, panted, and gargled when his breathing became labored. I could feel the painfully icy water stabbing through my skin, how the feeling was amplified greatly by the frigid night air when we broke to the surface, and his heart beat gradually slowing as he got closer to death. I could still smell the metallic scent of his blood mixed with the faint undertones of his cologne. I could even remember the bitter tang left in my mouth from all the stress. It was almost too much for my reeling mind to comprehend. The memories only seemed to momentarily cease whenever I noticed that some of the stray cinders escaped the fire to create smudges on the rug.

I was unsure I had made the right decision saving the boy. As much as I didn’t want to admit that Malachi was right, there was undoubtedly going to be some sort of consequences for my actions. I was also uncertain of their severity. Maybe it was best to just have let him die. It wouldn’t have complicated things so much. Moreover, it wasn’t like I only saved him once. I had stopped death from claiming him during three different instances; the first time being when he fell into the river. He should have drowned as a result. The second and third times could have happened separately or together simultaneously while he was bleeding out from his gunshot wound and experiencing hypothermia after I rescued him. I was beginning to understand and accept that I had messed with the delicate balance of life and death. It made me uneasy to think that it was going to come back to haunt me one way or another. However, I couldn’t say I entirely regretted saving the boy. Something in my gut told me this wasn’t his time to die. There was something more to it that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

I was vaguely aware of Malachi’s presence when he entered the room. He must have sensed my mental turmoil brewing behind my far-off gaze. After I heard him purposely cleared his throat, as to not startle me, he placed his ashen fingers on my tense shoulders to gently turn me to face him. Worry swam in his eyes as he stared at me. I broke eye contact first, as I didn’t have the energy to endure another lecture. Taking a second to collect his thoughts, he sighed out before speaking.

“Mistress, if I may on my behalf express to you my thoughts,” he hesitated as if to ask for permission.

“You may,” I curtly nodded, anxious yet genuinely curious of his opinion.

“What is done is done. And it is rather foolish to harp on such occurrences that we can not change.” Trailing his hands down my arms, he grabbed both of my hands. “While I do not entirely agree with involving ourselves with humans,” he trailed off almost sounding repulsed, “If you truly believe you did what was right, then I faithfully stand by you in your decisions.” He gave a reassuring squeeze to my hands.

Surprised I jerked my head up towards him and stared wide eyed. I was in disbelief at the sincerity of his words. His reaction was not what I was expecting. He only kindly smiled at my bewilderment.

“You’re not disappointed with me.” I timidly whimpered out. A few stray tears escaped my lash line and rolled down the apex of my cheek, feeling relieved as my emotions bubbled to the surface.

“I have grown too fond of you to ever be disappointed by the decisions you hold dear to your heart.” At a loss for words, my mouth opened and then immediately closed a few times before I just settled for abruptly hugging Malachi.

“Thank you,” were the only words I could muster as I whispered the sentiment into the crook of his neck. It took him a moment to realize I was embracing him before he returned my affection wrapping his arms tightly around my waist and shoulders to pull me even closer into him.

“You are very welcome,” he said before letting go of me. “Now have a seat. I will make you some tea with fresh herbs from the garden. In the meantime please refrain from staring at the fire so intensely. It almost looks as if you will burn a hole through it, not that that is really possible since it is already set ablaze, but you understand what I am alluding to. Relax.”

I giggled at his playful demeanor and nodded, walking around the coffee table to take a seat on the worn sofa. Once he left the room, I closed my eyes and rested my head on the back of the sofa. The grandfather clock settled next to the fireplace ticked rhythmically in the foreground. I syncopated the noise of the swinging pendulum to my breathing, focusing on it to momentarily distract me from the topic of the boy currently residing a few rooms away in my bed.

Sometime later Malachi returned holding a tea tray containing two crystal glass teacups and a freshly brewed kettle of tea. After sitting in a love seat adjacent to me, he gracefully poured the piping hot liquid just short of the brim into a cup, he then carefully handed it to me.

“Here, this will help to calm your nerves. But do be careful it is quite hot,” he quickly warned me before I could even think about taking a sip. As I brought the cup up towards my mouth, I noted its flowery vanilla aroma before the taste of the liquid washed over my tongue.

“Mmm, thank you. It’s good,” attempting to make small talk in a bid to distract myself I continued, “But I thought you were going to use some of the herbs we have. Instead you used roses. I hope you didn’t use too many. You know my rose bushes are precious to me,” I teased.

“Do not worry, I used only a few. They smelled too fragrant to pass on the opportunity. Plus they give the tea such a lovely color.” He said looking keenly into his own cup, admiring the way some of the stray petals swirled about it when he slightly rotated his wrist. Noticing the juxtaposition between Malachi’s daunting appearance and the delicacy of the tea’s ingredients was something I found quite comical. I chuckled softly to myself. It was then that Malachi broke the phlegmatic atmosphere.

“Mistress,” Malachi addressed me but didn’t say anything else. I could hear the hesitation in his voice.

“Hmm?” I encouraged him to continue whilst casually sipping my drink.

“Forgive me, but that boy,” he paused again unsure, “Why did you save him? And do not say that you do not know, because I know that you must have had some kind of a reason. You do not usually act so rashly without one. So tell me the truth, please.” He pled with me.

My smile suddenly faltered. “Uh, well, ” I stuttered. Finding it easier to just start from the beginning I spoke, “The first time I saw him I immediately noticed him. It was like my eyes immediately found his. I couldn’t look away… and I didn’t want to. After that I kept seeing him. It was almost too easy to pick him out of a crowd. Over and over he kept appearing before me. And it wasn’t like I was always seeing him in the same place around the same time; it was multiple different locations anywhere from early in the morning to late at night. They didn’t seem like coincidences,” I reasoned. “The harder I resisted looking, the more I wanted to. It’s like his presence demanded my attention. And the funny thing is when I do see him it feels like a kind of sixth sense,” I said as I exhaled dramatically, “A tingling takes over my whole body and immediately a voice in my head tells me, ‘hey look up, look up now,’ and suddenly he’s there in front of me. It’s like time slows down and the world becomes a blur. Almost like I’m hyperaware of the moment, so that I can take in every detail of our depressingly short encounters.” I didn't want it to seem like I only liked the boy for the way he looked. He had other attributes that I appreciated as well.

“And it’s not just because he’s handsome. Yeah, he’s beautiful; but he’s also kind and considerate and smart. He’s always looking after the well being of his friends, he’s respectful to strangers, and he acts so sweet towards his dog. Not to mention he has such a unique outlook on most things if you take the time to really listen to what he has to say.” I began to fidget with a loose thread that had come undone on my nightdress. Spinning the fiber between my fingertips I continued, “There’s more there hidden in the depths of his eyes and the way he smiles wide, and how his voice excitedly pitches and his eyes light up when he tells a story,” my passive face formed a smile as I remembered. “He looks… like… someone worth knowing. Like I could share all my secrets with him, lean in close and whisper in his ear and he’d listen intently but wouldn’t repeat anything aloud.” I stared dreamily into the fire, lost in my thoughts. “I want to be his friend. I want to make him smile and be there for him when he cries. You know I saw him once wandering around the streets of Seoul late at night with red eyes and tear stained cheeks. All I could think about was hugging him tight. I don’t even know what made him upset. I wish I could have asked what was wrong so I could make it better in any way I could. But I know I can’t -,” I trailed off catching myself in the middle of a an exceedingly long rant.

Embarrassed by my blabbing, I abruptly stopped. I tried as best I could to articulate my feelings but I found I was unknowingly speaking in an unfiltered rush. It felt like what I was saying didn’t even make that much sense, considering I didn't even properly know the boy. Malachi was considerate enough to not interrupt me though. Instead he only stared with a pensive look in his eyes, trying to make sense of what I was saying. He could tell I was struggling. Frustrated with my inability to properly give a direct answer, I pulled a seam in my dress and inadvertently created a tiny hole.

“I… feel like there is some sort of connection between us, like he came into my life for a reason.” I picked at the edges of the hole. “Or maybe I came into his life for a reason. ” Drawing a shaky breath I uttered, “Perhaps it was love at first sight.” My voice was just above a whisper by the time I spoke the last word. Overwhelmed and a bit scared by my own admission, my trembling fingers caused me to clink my cup against the plate when I set it down on the coffee table. Malachi solemnly nodded his head once as if to convey to me that he understood, even though I knew he didn’t.

“What is his name then?” He asked with a stoic expression, the orangish hue of the light emitting from the fireplace reflected on his pale face.

“I don’t know.” I felt silly for even entertaining the thought that I had feelings for the boy when I didn’t know something as simple as his name.

“You do not know,” Malachi repeated, his features impassive.

“No, Malachi, I don’t,” I retorted. I was being unreasonably defensive, “Shall I go and try to wake him to ask?” I was unable to hide the scorn in my voice.

“You know that is not what I am referring to. I was just -.”

“You just what?” I impudently interjected, “May I remind you who is in charge here, because you are beginning to agitate me.” I pinched the bridge of my nose as my blood began to boil in my veins. “Know your place,” I snapped at him. As soon as the bitter words left my mouth I saw a drop in Malachi’s shoulders. Feeling regret for my vile temper I quickly apologized. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. It’s just -,” I paused before meekly continuing, “Would you please kindly drop the subject? I’m exhausted and I need time to think things over.”

“Yes, of course Mistress, my apologies for upsetting you.” Malachi responded sounding dejected.

Looking towards a mirror hung on the left wall of the room, I then remembered something. Before the boy had fallen into the river, the gunman had deposited his wallet into the snowy bank to hide it.

“I don't know his name,” I whispered astonished that I hadn’t remembered this from before. Malachi confusedly furrowed his eyebrows. He was probably questioning why I was bringing up the topic again after I had told him to drop it. “But I know a way we can find out.”

“What are you suggesting then?” Malachi inquired, trying to catch on to what I was referring to.

“His wallet. It was left on the side of the river. I’m sure it contains some sort of identification in it. That is, if I can still find it. It was snowing when you rescued us… probably even harder since we left. I’m sure it’s buried by now. It’s worth a try though.” I rose from my chair, to walk over to the mirror. Taking a moment to focus on where I roughly remembered the gunman hiding the wallet, I then channeled my energy into the mirror to show Malachi the location I pictured in my head. Suddenly the scene in the glass shifted right before us from merely reflecting myself to showing a view of the Han River from where I was previously standing tonight to witness death’s doing. “See right along here is where it should be located.” I pointed to a particular area of snow. “If I can just -.”

“No, you have been through enough tonight,” Malachi cut me off. “I will go retrieve it.”

“Thank you, “ I whispered grateful Malachi was volunteering to help me. But just as he was about to teleport to leave, I called out to him. “Wait!” Malachi stopped in his tracks and turned around to face me. His face was void of emotion, but he raised his eyebrows as if to silently question why I had stopped him. “The man that shot the boy, what… what do you think will become of him?”

“Hmm, karma probably. Those who commit such heinous crimes, their actions are bound to catch up with them at some point in time. If you are not referring to prison while he is still alive and breathing, the Shadows will surely drag him to Hell once he reaches the afterlife.” Malachi spoke matter-of-factly.

“Oh.” Malachi’s candid input put me at ease. Angels of death usually escorted the souls of the dead to Heaven or even Purgatory, while the Shadows delivered those found unequivocally evil straight to Hell.

“Hey, do not ruminate too deeply on the virtue of others, or you will begin to develop wrinkles.” He made his way back over to me and gently rubbed out the worry lines in my forehead. “I will return as soon as I locate the boy’s possessions. Make sure you finish your tea,” he advised nodding towards my abandoned cup. He then turned on his heel and disappeared from sight only leaving the remnants of a shadowy fog were he once stood.

#taehyung fanfiction #taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung #taehyung #taehyung x oc #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts supernatural au #bts army #v fanfic

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violetmuses · 3 years

Text

Grey || Chapter 2

Dedications: @clints-lucky-arrow @mymagicsuitcase @mypoisonedvine @punemy-spotted

__________

2023

Helmut Zemo

“I was a God. I did what no other scientist since Erskine was able to do, but mine was going to be different. No clunky machines or jacked up bodies. Mine was going to be subtle, optimized, perfect.” Dr. Nagel held enough arrogance to proclaim so-called immortality. We learned as well that Nagel recreated twenty vials of the damn Serum before Karli Morgenthau had stolen those items. I kept scowling, eying his boxed lab with disgust. Across the room, James and Sam were still alert nearby.

“How have we never heard about this?” Sam reasonably questioned soon after lowering his own firearm. James still kept his weapon close, planning to threaten Nagel once more if need be.

“Before I was able to complete my work, I turned to dust. When I returned, it was five years later. The program had been abandoned, so I came here. The Power Broker was more than happy to fund the recreation of my work.” Nagel continued speaking, his voice low but still purposeful. I quietly armed myself after finding a gun tucked under one silver cart.

“Where’s Karli now?” Sam probed once more as expected, keeping calm despite our current situation of urgency. With each passing moment, I’d become restless, but knew better than to react before questioning truly gripped its strong point.

“I don't know where Karli is, but a couple of days ago, she called and asked if I could help someone named Donya Madani. The poor woman has tuberculosis and it’s a typical consequence of overpopulation in displacement camps like that.” Nagel offered more information and I still listened intently, despite holding the gun.

“What happened to Donya?” Sam then asked logically to volley himself back for this interrogation.

“Not my pig, not my farm.” Nagel acted smug once more, irking my thoughts again.

For a moment, I concealed my weapon and stepped towards him, eying Sam as he allowed me to move forward. If questioning by “good people” didn’t work, then there was a chance that I would be convincing here. There was no other choice.

“If you won’t reveal where Karli is, then perhaps you can tell me where this woman could be found.” I reached for one of my inner coat pockets and showed Nagel this personal photograph. My own heart dropped and raced all at once this time.

“You’re definitely behind the times with this picture, but I know exactly who that is.” Nagel laughed almost menacingly to himself while sitting in the chair. James and Sam stood in place with clueless expressions, but of course I did not care.

Another story for another time.

“Where is she?” I asked, nearly gritted my teeth whilst anger coursed through every vein within me now. James and Sam were still watching us both, but questions had surely crossed their minds as I changed subjects of this probe.

“Dionne Charles has hid in plain sight for decades now. You haven’t been paying attention.” Nagel clued to me, but remained vague. It took everything in me not to shoot, but his answers would've meant quite the breakthrough. I needed more.

“Is she here?” I snapped once more, patience finally growing thin.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Nagel shrugged. I back away, deciding not to pull the trigger yet.

“Back to business. Is there any serum in this lab?” James stepped forward and pressed the barrel of his firearm right up against Nagel’s temple.

“No,” Nagel allowed his voice to tremble as he reached the brink of death once more.

“Guys, we're seriously outta time here!” Unexpectedly, Sharon Carter entered the container and warned us of more incoming trouble.

Not caring, I finally unveiled my firearm soon and pulled the trigger, killing Nagel without any further hesitation.

“No!” Sam and James then yelled towards my direction, pulling me back with his own stronghold.

“What did you do?” Sharon asked, peering towards my eyes. I still couldn’t care less. Impact of the powerful gunshot had shuffled Nagel and forced his hardened chair to fall backward. Blood immediately splattered all over his chest and face.

_______

James, Sam, and I had taken my private jet once more, moving to my safe house in Riga, Latvia the following day. One GRC resettlement camp had been located in this specific city and Donya Madani passed away there, which signaled one step closer towards Karli.

“I’ll ask you again. Who the hell is Dionne Charles? You won’t even show us the picture that Nagel saw yesterday.” Sam questioned me, sitting at the kitchen counter. I’d placed down a drink for him, but he crossed both arms, waiting for me.

“Fine, do you want the truth?” Sarcasm lined my voice, but he was right. I’d quietly spent the past few days hiding behind phones and secrecy to find someone and my veiled movement left them suspicious.

“Lying would put you back in jail without a doubt, so tell me everything.” Sam kept his words leveled, but this sense of curiosity peaked as well.

“Apologies for the old photograph, but this is the image that I showed Nagel yesterday.” I’d taken this laminated Polaroid out of my coat and finally handed the beloved image to Sam.

I’d captured the image myself with a disposable camera. 2003 had marked the year on a white border. In this candid picture, Dionne wore this cocktail dress and drank her favorite wine, sitting on the balcony of my family’s estate in bliss. The dark complexion of her skin tone nearly glowed as daylight turned into evening.

“She’s beautiful.” Sam mumbled gently, but I understood. Of course she was beautiful.

“I know.” I sighed, thinking back. Anyone with two eyes knew that she was arguably one of the most gorgeous people in the world. The phrase “often replicated, but never duplicated” was true, especially considering her presence.

‘Any reason why you’ve kept this picture around? I’m sure that times have obviously changed for both of you.” Sam asked, narrowing his eyes. At least he was not willing to act invasive.

“Nostalgia, perhaps. I haven’t seen her in person since…” I trailed off these words when James entered the safe house, entering my kitchen as well. Even Sam had then caught me and tucked the Polaroid back into that fur-lined coat of mine.

Mission first, memories later. I thought to myself.

“Well, the Wakandans are here and they want Zemo. I just bought us some more time.” James announced, not bothering to greet Sam or I in some content manner.

“Were you followed?” Sam asked James in return, completely forgetting and ignoring my previous conversation with him.

“No.” James answered quickly.

“How can you be so sure?” I joined in, facing the stain-glass window.

“Cause I know when I'm being followed.” James defended himself.

“It was sweet of you to defend me at least.” I turned away from the window and sprayed cologne, faintly smirking.

“Shut it, no one’s defending you. You killed Nagel.” It was not long before Sam spoke up once more, facing me.

“Do we really have to litigate what may or may not have happened?” I volleyed back, prompting Sam to respond again.

“There's nothing to litigate. You straight shot the man.” Sam eyed me as I handed over another beverage.

“Eleven injured, three dead.” James scrolled through his cell and offered information on Karli. A bombing at the GRC supply depot had taken place recently. There would be more attacks if a list of demands weren’t met as soon as possible.

“The very concept of a Super Soldier will always trouble people. It was that warped aspiration that led to Nazis, to Ultron, and to the Avengers.” I reiterated our need to rid the world of these monsters. No one deserved to have that immortality.

“So, Karli is radicalized, but there has to be a peaceful way to stop her.” Sam joined the conversation once more, facing me and James.

“The desire to become a superhuman cannot be separated from supremacist ideals. Anyone with that serum is inherently on that path. She will not stop and she will escalate until you kill her, or she kills you.” I set down the truth of Karli’s intent.

Whilst discussing our mission, I didn’t know what to believe when my burner phone began ringing within the trench coat. Backing away from James and Sam, I discreetly moved towards my coat and reached for that pocket. James and Sam were clueless, just continuing to speak on Karli or the Flag Smashers radicals.

973-675-1342

As soon as I grabbed the phone, this New Jersey phone number flashed before my eyes, signaling memories that had been long buried. Ignoring James and Sam once more, I headed into this cornered master bedroom, closing the door behind me.

“Hello?” Pacing back and forth at the foot of this bed, It was not long before I smiled briefly, trying to register the possibility of hearing her voice without jumping through the answering machine. This chat would be twenty years in the making.

“Who the hell are you?” On the other line, a man’s voice nearly growled unexpectedly to somehow address me. I’d never heard his voice before, but anger coursed through my veins as time stopped. This stranger even sounded American.

“Where’s Dionne?” I snipped with a low tone, conjuring up the worst case scenarios. In short the time when Nagel explained that Dionne could’ve been hiding in plain sight, an abduction could’ve taken place soon after. My skin crawled.

“You really don’t remember me, Colonel? That’s a shame.” This bastard laughed to himself while briefly recalling my years with Eko Skorpion. Despite still holding the title of Baron, I’d taken military service not long before Ultron destroyed Sokovia.

“At least give me your last name during this call, please. You sound like some average and run-of-the-mill American man.” I said, rolling both eyes, regardless of ongoing anger. For all I knew, this man could’ve held Dionne for ransom right now.

“Perkins.”

Back in 2012, Russell Perkins somehow bypassed the no-flight list and failed this harsh attempt to assassinate one of Sokovia’s official diplomats. Not only was Perkins arrested and indicted immediately, but he’d been imprisoned shortly after.

“How the hell did you escape prison?” I grit my teeth. Enough was enough.

“I could ask you the same question.” Perkins chuckled, showing the velvet tone of voice that would’ve rivaled any one of my cousins on their best day.

“How I have now been freed from my cell is none of your concern, Perkins. Where is she?” I returned to our main speaking point: Dionne. My heart dropped and shattered once more, trying to calm, but still enraged now.

“Right here. Hold on.” Perkins lowered his voice once more. Both anxiety and anticipation had quickly raced through my mind as I listened out for Dionne's presence, hoping that Perkins wouldn’t make a joke out of this very situation.

“Z…” Dionne spoke to me at last. Her voice, nearly fleeting, edging on the brink of death, shocked me. Not a hint of joy or content lined her tone as she tried to utter my last name.

“Hello, Sweetheart.” Tears pickled my own eyes. Yet, at that moment, my heart sank. It took everything in me not to shout for her and give myself away during this phone call. Sam and James would’ve immediately noticed that I was not nearby.

“Don’t say that to me.” she warned, reminding my heart of the mistake that led to our breakup many years ago.

“Apologises.” I whispered to her, still keeping my voice leveled despite the anguish that filled my very being now.

“Just say hi to Sam for me and tell James that I’m proud of him. I’ve heard a lot of different things since The Blip took place.” Dionne offered greetings to Sam and James, emoting bittersweetness.

“I promise to speak with James and Sam, but where are you? Where is Perkins hiding you right now? Please tell me.” I tried to keep up this clear facade of strength, but the attempt crumbled with each passing moment.

“I’m so sorry, but I can’t tell you. He’ll...he’ll kill me if you find out.” Dionne whispered back to me. Her perfect voice had shuddered against my left eardrum in response, but one damn gunshot then pierced out loud just moments later.

“No!” I yelled, allowing the phone to drop out of my hand instantly. If James and Sam barged through the door, so be it. To be honest, this moment marked the first time that I’d genuinely cried since the loss of my family, including Heike and Karl.

______

“I took the liberty of crossing my name off in your book. I hold no grudges for what you thought you had to do. Goodbye, James.” I bid farewell to James one last time before members of The Dora Milaje could haul me away towards The Raft now.

“She’s alive.” Whilst lowering his firearm at last, James uttered something from behind me. At one point in time, even one member of the Dora had allowed me to turn around.

“What did you just say?” I asked, narrowing my eyes across the cobblestone path found between us.

“Dionne is alive.” James repeated himself.

#baron zemo #zemo fanfic #tfatws #angst #possibly triggering #violence tw

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