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five-rivers · 3 years

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Three Twilights

Can be considered a loose sequel to Deep Sea Diver (same vibes).

Warnings: Soft body horror, Danny totally ignoring objectively horrifying things

“I was thinking,” started Maddie over breakfast, “we could start observations of that island that came into view last week, the blue one.”

Danny shook his head. “You’ll have to use the Speeder, then,” he said. “I’ve got an errand to run.”

There was a pause as both of Danny’s parents looked at him, confused. He didn’t blame them. Danny rarely went out as a human anymore, and certainly not for anything like errands. Looking like he was still fourteen after all this time made doing anything even remotely official difficult.

But this wasn’t a human errand. “Yeah,” said Danny. “In the Ghost Zone. I’ve got to go to Three Twilights.”

“Where?” asked Jack.

“It’s, um, a city,” said Danny. “Well, three cities, I suppose, depending on how you want to group them. One Realm. On the shores of the Celestial Sea. I’m sure I’ve put it in your files.” Probably a direct copy from his files from before he came clean to them, but still. He stirred his cereal counterclockwise, letting his ice powers chill the milk.

“Yes,” said Maddie, “but there are a lot of places in there. I’m not sure we’ve had a chance to properly look at them all, much less memorize them.”

“Okay, yeah,” said Danny. “I guess that makes sense.”

“What kind of errand are you running, Danno?”

“I’m picking something up for a friend. A book,” he clarified. “They lent it to someone there, but they need it back.”

“A book,” said Maddie. “For the Library of Tongues?”

“No, they’ve got a contract service for overdue loans.”

“Contract service?” asked Jack.

“Yeah. Moonlighting bounty hunters mostly.”

“For a library?”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” said Danny, shrugging. “They’re really serious about their work.”

“If it isn’t for them, who is it for?” asked Maddie. “The princess? Wulf?” Wulf had actually been over a few times, and his parents had… Well, saying they got along would be an overstatement, they didn’t really have anything in common beyond ripping portals in the fabric of the universe, but everyone had been civil. “The boy at the school?”

“No,” said Danny. “Wulf would just get it himself.”

“Who, then?” pressed Maddie.

Danny put a spoonful of cereal in his mouth, delaying. Maddie hadn’t eaten anything since Danny had mentioned the errand. The errand was, in fact, for Clockwork. Danny was always more than happy to do anything for Clockwork. The older ghost had saved him too many times for him to be otherwise. But Jack and Maddie were wary of Clockwork. Danny didn’t get it, but talking about it hadn’t been productive so far.

He didn’t want to lie to his parents. Not ever again.

“It’s for Clockwork,” he said.

Ah, yes, there were those suspicious looks. The ones Danny could have interpreted even without being able to almost literally taste emotions.

“I see,” said Maddie.

“Anyway,” said Danny, quickly, “if I haven’t shown you Three Twilights yet, it’s really cool. I don’t want to take the full rig, but maybe the little ectocam would be okay? The one that I can clip on.”

“Why not the normal camera with an ectofilter?” asked Jack. “That has more features, and it’s easier for us to get data from.”

“Three Twilights. It’s dark there,” said Danny. “It might work in Civila, but not so much in Naŭtika and Astronomia, and I sort of want to go down to the beach and see if I can find any star pearls, and that’s really dark, so if you want to see anything properly, it’ll have to be the sonar setup, which I’m not doing, the noises that thing makes are offensive, or the ectocam.”

“And the Fenton Phones?” asked Maddie.

“Sure,” said Danny. “But I always bring those.”

“Yes,” said Maddie, after a moment. “You do.”

“Great. It’s settled, then.”

Most of the journey to Three Twilights could be made by air. Or, rather, what passed for air in the Infinite Realms. But when the rocky edge of an island came into view, Danny touched down. Further in was a blue wood, and Danny walked under its inviting branches.

The atmosphere started sunny, summery. The leaves and needles of the trees were the color of a clear blue sky. But as he got deeper, the leaves were touched with sunset colors: golds, reds, oranges, purples, and pinks. They fell to the ground, crunching beneath Danny’s feet. The sunset grew longer, deeper. The leaves on the trees grew sparser, revealing patches of sky.

By the time only bare branches framed the sky, it was a dusky, dim, purple. A few lonely stars twinkled in the sky.

He passed out of the forest. The city of Civila rose above him. Windows glowed in the near dark like eyes.

Danny had changed, too. His aura had dimmed. The whites of his suit were now dark gray, and patterns swirled on its surface like camouflage, like wind-twisted clouds, like nebulae.

Shadows bled around the corners of the city buildings like ink in water. Will-o-the-wisps bobbed, casting pools of illumination in lieu of streetlamps. Ghosts walked up and down the streets, or floated only a few meters up.

The buildings glittered. Everything was dark, vibrant, colors. A sharp, sweet scent filled the air, something dark and rich beneath it.

The canals in the center of the street were filled with flashing fish. Or perhaps serpents. Or perhaps worms. Between how fast they moved and the dimness of the light, it was difficult to tell.

Danny could feel his irises contracting, shrinking down to needle-thin rings. His teeth were sharp. He matched the other ghosts around him. This was how the Civila liked it, how things were in this part of Three Twilights.

Everything in order. Everything peaceful. Everything civil.

Danny walked through the market square, and bought some charcoal-colored cherry pastries from a vendor who looked like someone’s nightmare demon with a chip of ghost ice.

Much to his parents’ protests. They didn’t care for him eating ghost food.

There were seven bridges to Naŭtika, which was built half underwater and half on boats that floated both on the water and in the air. As the dark waters of the inlet lapped at his feet, Danny felt the changes ripple across his skin. To a human, he would look pure black, except for the faintest glimmer of rim lighting and the stars of his eyes. He and the other ghosts moved silently, cutting through the waters like shadows.

To Danny’s ghostly senses, the place was alive with emotion and force, energy loud and crackling against his senses.

“We’re solely on the ectocam, now,” said Maddie. “You were right about that.”

“Mhm,” said Danny, half distracted by a whispered sea-shanty backed by a choir of not-voices and not-sound that wove together with the mastery of a hundred years of practice.

He glided up a rope net, and began to navigate the ropes to the taller ships. The very tallest, the ones that scraped the ever-darkening sky and blotted out uneven sections of stars, moored the glass-like ships that floated above. He’d need to reach them, to get to Astronomia.

“What’s that?” asked Maddie, breaking his concentration on his path.

“What’s what?” asked Danny, whisper soft, drawing some looks. He turned, slowly, on the spot, planks barely creaking under his steps. A gentle wind ruffled his hair.

“There,” said Maddie. “By the ghost that’s registering red.”

It had taken Danny a long time to learn what color on the ectocam’s artificial sensor signified what, but he had, if only to reduce the guessing when they played this game.

“Star pearls,” said Danny, eyeing the ropes of stone that glimmered brighter than his eyes currently did. They were one of the only reliable forms of light, out on the Celestial Sea, although they were valued for other things, too.

“They’re putting out a massive amount of energy,” said Maddie.

“You mentioned them before,” said Jack. “You wanted to look for some?”

“On the shore,” said Danny. “Out past Astronomia.” He wanted to find his own, rather than buy them.

Partially because they were expensive. He didn’t really want to think about how much unmelting ice he’d have to conjure up to equal one of them. They were usually bartered in exchange for… more significant things.

The ghost by the pearls beckoned him closer, clearly hoping to make a sale. Danny shook his head, broadcasting regret and admiration for his wares. Speech might be faster but, under these circumstances, it would not be polite.

When Danny left, the social rules of Three Twilights would only leave the faintest impression on his mind. But, for now, they were a heavy, but not uncomfortable weight. One he could shrug off if necessary, but which was currently useful.

“What are they?” asked Maddie, as Danny turned away.

“They happen when big enough things fall into stars,” said Danny. “They’re all the memories of what they used to be… and the imagination of what they could become, when the star dies. Well, that’s what they’re supposed to be. I don’t think anyone really knows for sure.”

“And you can just… find these? Lying around?”

“Not… not really,” said Danny, slowly drifting towards a crow’s nest. “It’s like that one national park. That one where you can collect diamonds? You never really find anything good, but you can look.”

“I see,” said Maddie. “So, you don’t expect to find one?”

“Yes and no,” said Danny. “If I don’t expect to find one, I probably won’t. Unless the sea is feeling ironic, which it usually is, apparently. I mean, it’s an ocean and the stars. And prophecy is, like, ninety percent irony, but mostly for an outside observer. Which honestly makes sense, I think. An observer, not an Observant. Those are different things.”

The kind of silence on the other side of the line was the one that emerged when Danny used too much ghost logic.

“Anyway,” he continued as he scaled the crow’s nest and started traversing the glass ropes and chains to the all-but-invisible glass ships, “no, I don’t really expect to.”

The path to Astronomia was a staircase carved from moonstone harvested in October, when the moon was full and orange-red. It burned Danny’s eyes to look at and feet to walk upon. Like many ghosts who fixated on things like astronomy, he adapted quickly and thoroughly to the spiritual dark.

This darkest twilight was built of delicate bubbles, whorls, and arches of glass, any of which could cradle a ghost, all of which could be phased through with impunity. There were no true roads here, but certain places were easier to travel through. Addresses were carved in the glass in glimmering, holographic sigils made from glass-caught starlight that humans would never be able to read, but Danny could understand with a glance. It was not silent in Astronomia, the high wind sung through the glass like the immense instrument it was, playing ethereal and eternal music that mirrored heaven.

As always, Danny was enraptured. Perhaps the stars here were not true stars, only their memory and imagination (or simulacra made from stripped ghost cores, he remembered with a shudder), but he felt so close here.

“Danny? Are you still with us?”

Danny started to reply, but realized he had forgotten, once again, that he had no mouth here.

A phantabulist played a story for a group of not-quite-children, characters made of carefully constructed light chasing each other about with vigour. Danny stopped for a while to watch the story, a parable about spiders and fish. They were common here, storytellers who plied their craft this way. The stories could be pressed into glass prisms and orbs that served as books and viewed even in other environs of the Ghost Zone.

He moved on, passing through a glass bubble full of ghosts that snatched at and stroked him as he passed by, leaving stars and dark clouds to swirl across his skin. His suit had long since smoothed over and sunk in. His skin was a thin surface, a membrane holding in liquid night. He was like smoke, like vapour, thin and easily overlooked.

The places he passed were homes, places of business, warehouses, and hotels, organized without any apparent reason. A phantabularium glowed like a struck match, snatches of story visible inside its walls. He walked by.

Eventually, he reached the palace at the city center.

The ghost who lived there was old. Older, perhaps, than Pandora. She filled the vessels of her palace in placid pools connected by crystalized threads and looping tubes. Seven round-bottom flasks, radiating outward, like the spheres of heaven. The music here was almost deafening.

This was Urania, Muse of Astronomy. Astronomia was her city, and subordinate to her will before all else.

Danny resisted the urge to kneel. He was not here as a supplicant, and they both knew it.

The lowest pool bubbled, and slowly a glass prism, a dodecahedron, floated to the top. Danny took it with careful hands and left Urania’s direct presence as quickly as possible.

Being near her was always difficult. She was the Muse of Astronomy, and she felt he did not indulge his second Obsession as much as was proper.

Indeed, she thought it should be his first.

(The starlight inside him pulsed. He was never sure how much influence Urania could exert on him when he visited Three Twilights, never sure how much the relationship between his passions shifted when he was here. He loved it here too much to stay away forever.)

Astronomia did not end all at once. Instead, as one walked farther from the palace, the delicate, clear glass was replaced by black sand. When Danny had feet again, and could feel the grains beneath them, he knew he was no longer in Astronomia, but on the Shores of Night. The Isles of the Moon were faintly visible in the distance, sea-spray framing them in silvery halos.

He felt human here. His breath moved in his lungs, and his skin rose in goosebumps, the sleeves of his t-shirt fluttering in the wind. The sea and the sky were the same, and twice as beautiful for it.

“Sorry for going silent on you there,” said Danny. “I keep forgetting I don’t have a mouth there.”

“How do you forget that?” asked Jack.

“I don’t know.” Danny shrugged, even though he knew Jack couldn’t see him. “Do you think the ectocam might be able to spot buried star pearls?”

#danny phantom #ectoberhaunt 2021 #ectober 2021 #ectober #ectoberhaunt treat #danny totally ignoring objectively horribly things #worldbuilding

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

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Laugh

Prompt: Hi!! I really love your writing and always look forward to when you update, I can’t tell if your prompts are open (please ignore this if they aren’t!) but if they are I have a prompt for your (un)wanted series; each of the fae making Virgil laugh for the first time, at first he’s insecure/scared to laugh because of experiences in the village but he slowly learns to be ok/comfortable laughing thanks to the fae; again, if your prompts aren’t open I apologize and hope you have a nice day!! - anon

so uh

hey

did you guys know that this past Friday was the one year anniversary of the first chapter of (un)wanted

'cause wow

uhhhhhh I'm not good at speeches so have fluff

Read on Ao3 (Un)Wanted Masterlist

Warnings: none!

Pairings: DLAMPR, it’s found family nonsense

Word Count: 5419

Whether or not they agree on who made Virgil laugh first is irrelevant, the point is that they’ll find something to argue about sooner or later, and when they do, Virgil’s learned enough to curl up with Oliver and just watch. Preferably from the safety of the kraken’s head, a little bit away from the shore, where he’s close enough to hear the things they say but not close enough to be in the way.

It was Oliver’s idea to do that, actually. Virgil…hasn’t been the best at learning how to deal with anger. Other people’s anger, in particular, for completely understandable reasons.

It had been Logan who spotted it, coming over to his side when the twins were having an argument over what side of the lake they were each taking jurisdiction for that decade and Roman’s voice had risen, Remus’s voice had multiplied, and Logan had seen Virgil curl in on himself, clutching his tunic tightly around him and trying desperately to vanish into the wall.

Once the twins realized what was happening—namely, Virgil breathing heavily in Logan’s arms as he glared at the two of them for being so oblivious—they’d stopped right away, calming down and crouching to be smaller so that Virgil could see them, see them, not their anger, and apologize. Remus had tugged Virgil into his lap as part of his apology and Roman had ruffled his hair and promised that he’d never raise his voice around him again.

Logan had been quiet as Virgil clung to him, only later working up the courage to ask what was wrong with him.

“Nothing is wrong with you, little one, you’re experiencing symptoms of your trauma.” A cool hand had passed over his forehead, smoothing his hair back from his face. “Your experiences with human anger have not been good, it stands to reason that you react to it.”

“But—it’s stupid,” Virgil had spat, “I know—I should know you guys won’t—won’t—“

“Shh, shh, hush, now…that’s it. Come back here for a moment. There you go.” Logan’s chin had come to rest on top of Virgil’s head. “Knowing something theoretically and properly internalizing it are two different processes, little one. It’s going to take time.”

“But I’ve given it time.”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that. There’s no textbook on healing from trauma.”

“There should be.”

Logan had chuckled. “I don’t think even with our combined lifetimes we would be able to read it.”

But that didn’t mean that they couldn’t start trying to help Virgil work through it. It had been the twins who started taking the bigger steps; sometimes Roman or Remus would be spending time with Virgil and the other would bustle in, muttering about something or other gone wrong. A patch of kelp that kept getting infected, a herd of deer that insisted on trampling half of the garden, something. And as they talked, the other would coax Virgil into their lap, keeping him grounded. Their voices might raise, just a little, but they were very careful not to yell and the warm weight of arms around Virgil and a head on his shoulder kept him safe.

When someone couldn’t hold him, Oliver does. The kraken made no secret of how much he liked to hold Virgil—Remus muttered something about how he wasn’t jealous of a kraken, shut up, Roman—and had no reservations about extending an arm for Virgil to step into to wrap him up and carry him to safety. The others made sure not to yell, of course, but that meant that it manifested in other ways.

Logan’s hands turned blue.

Roman’s magic started to tingle from his fingers.

Remus’s tentacles came out.

Janus started hissing.

Patton’s chest glowed.

And sometimes, when he’s safely in someone else’s arms and high away on top of Oliver’s head, that was fine.

Virgil shuffles a little, careful to keep his weight squarely on top of Oliver, not shifting too much either side. Of course, that’s easy when Oliver is really fucking huge. And the kraken burbles every now and then, shifting slowly from side to side in the water, careful not to jostle him too much. He pats the spot next to him in thanks and the water thrums with Oliver’s purr.

Onshore, about twenty feet away, he makes eye contact with Logan. Logan rolls his eyes dramatically, the sheer exasperation on his face making Virgil snort. When he looks back, Logan’s face has softened considerably into such fondness that he can feel the tips of his ears flush.

“I don’t know why we’re still fucking arguing about this,” Remus says, drawing their attention, “I won! I got him to laugh first! So I win!”

“You have no proof of that,” Roman says immediately, “besides, you haven’t even told us what it is, how are we supposed to trust that?”

“Just because we’re not all Lolo with his meticulous journals and note-taking methods doesn’t mean I’m not right, you absolute—“

“Language!”

“Oh, I’ll show you fucking language—“

“How is it,” Virgil mumbles at Oliver, “that they’ve been arguing for so long and Remus hasn’t said what he thinks it is yet?”

The kraken just shrugs. Carefully, not moving Virgil, but he does shrug.

“Well, since you’re so adamant that you’re correct,” Janus drawls, effectively cutting off Remus and Patton’s tangent about swearing—which is something they never can quite put down—“why don’t you tell us what it is?”

“Roro and Pat were there,” Remus huffs, putting his hands on his hips, I don’t see what there is to argue about.”

“We were—oh goodness,” Patton sighs, “are you talking about the first time Virgil met Oliver?”

Remus beams. “Sure am!”

“Was that when I got absolutely covered in that voracious green slime that was determined to consume me?” Roman scoffs and wipes his sleeves at the memory of it. “Absolutely dreadful.”

Remus throws his head back and cackles.

“It was a wonder I was able to get clean,” Roman mutters, glaring at his brother, absolutely splitting his sides.

“Ah,” Remus sighs after a moment, wiping his eyes, “good times, good times.”

He points victoriously at Patton.

“See? You were there! You remember!”

Patton sighs. “I do…but that doesn’t count.”

“What?” Remus whirls around and gestures at Oliver, who stick up two tentacle tips and waves. “Are you discounting this magnificent, glorious beastie from our debate?”

“Technically that would be Oliver getting Virgil to laugh, not you.”

“Or,” Roman says, puffing his chest out, “it would be me. Since I was the one to get so egregiously wounded—“

“You were covered in slime,” Logan points out, “calm down.”

“—then it was me that sparked that reaction.”

Virgil rolls his eyes and pats Oliver’s head again. “You’re not just a beastie, you know that, right?”

Oliver rumbles under him.

“Okay, good.”

“Besides, that was barely a laugh.” Patton pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “It was…okay, yes, it’s one of my favorite memories since Virgil has come to stay with us—“

Remus turns and shoots Virgil a wink over his shoulder.

“—but a laugh?” Patton looks at Logan. “What’s the definition of a laugh, Lo?”

“Technically, it’s to express certain emotions, particularly mirth or delight, through a series of spontaneous and usually unarticulated sounds.” Logan crosses his arms. “Which means that as long as it wasn’t planned and it wasn’t articulated, anything counts as a laugh.”

“Thank you!”

“Alright, alright,” Patton huffs, “always with the technicalities.”

“You were the one who asked me for the definition.”

“So what do you think it is,” Janus asks, examining his gloves with feigned disinterest, “since you’re so insistent that you know the correct usage of the word ‘laugh?’”

Virgil can see Patton’s grin from Oliver’s head.

“Why, the bread day, of course!”

As if on cue, several groans go up around the clearing.

“Patton, none of us were there for that—“

“You can’t just keep insisting on that one, it’s not like—“

“You can stop rubbing it in, Pat—“

“Of course, you need—“

“It was wonderful,” Patton says, raising his voice just a little to speak over the others, “he looked so happy.”

Virgil does actually remember that one too. And yes, okay, maybe he’s glad that he’s far away from the others so they can’t see the small smile spreading over his face at the memory. The warm kitchen, the smell of the bread, the soft warmth of Patton’s presence next to him…

Yeah, that’s a good memory.

Oliver thrums under him and he pats the kraken’s head absentmindedly. Patton sighs over on the shore as the others mutter amongst themselves. Then he claps his hands.

“Well, I think that’s me winning, so—“

“Hold on,” Logan says, holding up his hand, “as we said, you are the only one who was there. I would argue that a laugh where all of us were present is much more significant.”

He glances up at Virgil and his gaze softens.

“Considering the incredible amount of work that Virgil has done since arriving to stay with us, I’d say that marks…quite an achievement.”

Of course, as soon as one of them starts to get all sappy, the rest quickly join in. Virgil is incredibly glad that he can use shifting on top of Oliver’s head to duck away from the blush he knows is spreading all over his face. Mostly so he doesn’t have to look at the fondness and pride on their faces. Partly because he knows Roman would immediately become insufferable.

“So,” Roman says after a while, which means it’s safe to look up again, “what exactly did you have in mind?”

Logan crosses his arms, using one hand to adjust his glasses on his face. “Do we all remember the first time Virgil began to experiment with his webs?”

Virgil’s breath catches in his throat. Oh, he knows what Logan’s talking about.

The seasons had been turning, fall creeping in through the tendrils of the forest. The leaves had begun to change, dislodging themselves from their branches and twisting down through the air to land in massive piles on the ground. Carpets of red, orange, purple, and brown had covered the paths they would walk, fruits growing heavy and ripe. Roman and Patton had spent hours out in the woods near the lake with him, plucking berries off the trees and eating them until their mouths and fingers were stained with the juice.

The trees around the clearing had lost their leaves a little quicker than the others, leaving their limbs bare, the naked wood gleaming in the sun. The light had warmed the leaves during the day, leaving them dry and crunchy as they walked over them. Something Virgil hadn’t minded at all during the day—he had gotten into more than a few playful encounters with Remus, crashing through the leaves just to hear them crunch—but when night had rolled around…

The thin limbs blowing in the breeze hadn’t been pleasant reminders that the seasons were changing. No, they were fingers tapping threateningly on the windows, or looming there to scratch him if he moved too much.

Logan had noticed him hovering just outside the clearing the next day, softly placing a hand on his shoulder after alerting him to his presence and asking, gently, what the matter was.

“The…the trees,” Virgil had muttered, balling his fists up in shame, “I, um…they…”

Logan had taken one look at the way the shadows fell around the clearing and nodded firmly. “I understand, little one.”

He’d tucked Virgil up in his arms when Virgil asked, rubbing his back gently.

“Would you like to talk about it, or be distracted from it?”

“Distraction, please.”

Logan had smiled. “Have you had a chance to practice with your webs yet?”

“No.”

“Would you like to try now?”

“Uh, sure. What do we do?”

Logan had started to walk them toward the center of the clearing, explaining how spiders use their webs as a part of their consciousness.

“Wait, they what?”

Logan had nodded. “There is a theory of mind known as ‘extended cognition.’ It states that whilst humans—and most sentient beings—use their minds as a great deal of their processing of thought and feeling, we rely on a lot of external structures outside of our minds to help us think. Sometimes outside of our own bodies as well.”

“Whoa…” Virgil had looked down at his hands. “What do you mean?”

“Think of the way you organize your room.” Logan had gestured to Virgil’s door. “It’s laid out in a way that helps you think, helps you process information. It informs your decision-making sometimes, does it not?”

At Virgil’s nod, Logan had asked softly for his hand, beginning to make small circles in the air as Virgil started to let his webs slip.

“The same is true of a spider’s web. Picture the web as something of a hub.”

“A hub?”

“Yes. Do you remember talking about how spiders use their webs?”

“Yeah, as like a sensory extension. They can feel the vibrations of different strands in order to track their food or sense what’s coming for them.”

Logan had smiled. “Very good memory, Virgil, that’s excellent. Yes, they can tell the difference between different types of vibrations too, from different types of prey to debris to predators.”

A small web starts to form between the gaps in Virgil’s fingers.

“But what else they do is fascinating.” He tugs very gently on one of the strands. “The spider isn’t idle when it sits in the middle of its web. Rather, it’s constantly moving, checking each individual strand. Pulling this one a little tighter, tugging that one.”

Virgil watches as the light gleams off of the strands. He moves his fingers a little to watch them. “What for?”

“Pulling a strand tighter makes it more sensitive to vibrations.” He reaches up to Virgil’s head. “Like cupping your hand around your ear to hear things more clearly.”

“Whoa, that’s cool.”

“Mm. An external way of filtering what information the spider receives in order to better process it.”

Virgil had looked up at Logan. Logan had smiled softly and stepped back, letting Virgil spin the web between his own hands.

“…you think this will help me too?”

“I think that my research has shown that taking a spider’s web away from them severely impairs their ability to function,” had come the quiet reply, “and that you haven’t had much of a chance to spin freely.”

Virgil had looked down at his hands. The web had looked so small, too small. He had looked back up at Logan, chewing on his lip.

“Can I…?”

Logan had smiled and folded his hands behind his back.

Virgil had closed his eyes and reached.

There was something strange, he had realized, about being in your body without being in your body. Something like a wall, sometimes thick, sometimes only static, between you and whatever you sense. Hiding somewhere in a corner of your mind where you were in the world, but not really with the world. As if you were existing but just…slightly to the left.

His body didn’t need to do anything spectacular, it just needed to exist. He was a shape. Just a shape. Nothing more, nothing less.

And that was okay.

Without even realizing it, his four legs had lifted him up, suspending him a few inches off the ground as his hands continued to spin. He had felt them taking the web produced and moving it from place to place, but he wasn’t thinking about it.

He had just…done it.

He had been the slight crack in his left finger as he wrapped his hands around and around the threads of the web.

He had been the very tip of his upper left leg as it took the web and tossed it into place.

He had been the last strand that decided to stick to somewhere and make that its home.

When he had opened his eyes, an unknown amount of time later, his mouth had dropped open in awe.

The clearing, previously empty save for the bare-limbed trees and scattered leaves, was draped and covered in spiderwebs.

Logan, who must’ve been standing there quietly, had looked up and around him, eyes wide with wonder. He had turned slowly, spotting Roman, Remus, Patton, Janus, all staring around with wide eyes at the mass of webs that clung with gossamer elegance to the fabric of the world.

Virgil had hung there, suspended amidst the web, spinning slowly as he felt the world breathe.

Dusk had fallen, bathing the clearing in a soft light that reached gentle fingers out to paint thin blue shadows along the ground. The cool air had been weightless, blowing effortlessly through each strand and setting it to tingle. Everywhere a strand vibrated, a single drop of dew had formed, a single crystal in the half-dark.

A glittering hub.

And for the first time, Virgil had looked at something he’d made not with fear, not with anger, but with wonder.

And he’d laughed.

Giddy, child-like, bemused entirely by his creation and the way his body molded to the soft chimes of the web, spinning, spinning, unspun in the comfort of the mist.

Virgil’s legs twitch behind him at the memory of the first web, and as he looks down, he realizes he’s been idly toying with a web on top of Oliver. The kraken, of course, is more than delighted to realize he’s received a present, burbling happily as Logan finishes his quiet recounting of that evening. A lull hangs over the shore for a moment before Logan adjusts his tie.

“I believe I win.”

“Hold on,” Roman says, “let’s not be too hasty, here.”

“I do remember that,” Patton murmurs, glancing over at Virgil, “that web was so pretty.”

“Pretty enough for Logan to win?”

“Maybe not that pretty.” He sends a wink at Virgil.

Rude.

“Well,” Logan huffs, turning to Roman, “if you’re so certain, Roman, what on earth do you think it is?”

Virgil can hear the fucking smirk on his face from here.

“Have you all forgotten so quickly?” He spreads his arms. “Has the image of our sleepy little spider left your minds so soon after it happened?”

Oh.

Oh, no.

Virgil knows exactly what Roman’s talking about.

Okay, in his defense—who is he kidding, he knows damn well he set himself up for this. But it had been such a long day! He’d been working with Logan, trying to get the garden set up properly and that was hard, okay? Trying to manage the three different notebooks, the planters, the pots, the tools, it was a lot, and he still wasn’t used to using his new legs so he kept bumping into things and it was a lot. Then he had to help Patton with clearing out another section of the kitchen to make room for all the new baking pans and they were so loud and hard to manage and get the things in all the right places took so long and ugh. And then to top it all off Janus had promised to go with him on a walk and—listen, okay, the day was long.

And Roman is really, really warm.

He’d been walking back from the portal, drained from the effort of keeping his magic under control on the other side of the garden, panting slightly as he rounded the corner. He’d looked up just in time to see Roman shutting his red door behind him.

“Ah,” he’d said, coming over with a smile, “there you are, little honeybee, I’ve been looking for you.”

He’d taken one look at Virgil’s demeanor, however, and quickly softened his voice, coming a little closer, hands at the ready to ensure he was alright.

“What’s happened, little honeybee, are you alright? Do you need anything?”

“I’m fine, Roman, I just—oh—“

“Shh, easy, hey, come here…” Roman had leaned Virgil gently against the side of the house. “Too much?”

Virgil had nodded wearily. “Think I just…pushed it a little too hard today.”

“It happens.” He’d run his hand gently through Virgil’s hair. “Magic-wise or just existence-wise?”

“Bit of both?”

“My poor little honeybee, you must be exhausted.” Virgil’s eyes had slipped closed for a moment as Roman had carded his hand through his hair again. “Do you want to be left alone, or can I take care of you?”

Virgil had leaned into Roman’s touch and mumbled something. Roman had chuckled.

“Those aren’t words, little honeybee.”

“Mm.” Virgil had managed to crack one eye open. “C’n I come with you?”

“Of course, Virgil, let’s get you somewhere warmer.”

Roman had guided him carefully through the red door, sitting him down and producing cloth and bottle out of seemingly nowhere. He had shushed any protests gently, saying that it didn’t matter that Virgil hadn’t been crying, he can still let Roman clean his face off. He’d cupped Virgil’s head and asked him quietly to look at him.

“I don’t want you to fall asleep here, little honeybee,” he’d murmured, “so try and stay awake until we can get you somewhere comfortable, alright?”

“I’m not that tired,” he’d protested, “I’ll be fine.”

Roman had just smiled.

And Virgil really didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing him be so tired that he’d tried really hard to keep his eyes open. Even when Roman’s hand under his chin had been so warm, so confident in holding his head right where it needed to be. Even when the soothing repetitive motions of the cloth had coaxed his gaze not to Roman’s face but to the way the fabric moved in and out of his vision. Even when Roman had to pause and rewet the cloth and he’d let his eyes drift shut for a moment, just a moment.

Only to realize later that Roman had stopped completely, and was watching him with a quietly smug smile.

“Stay awake for me, little honeybee,” he’d whispered, “I’m almost done.”

“‘M trying.”

“I know, I know,” Roman had soothed, finishing cleaning his face, “and you’re doing a wonderful job for me.”

Then, of course, everything had gone wrong.

Because just that one little word of praise had been enough for the very tips of Virgil’s ears to go read, and of course, Roman had spotted it.

“Little honeybee,” he’d murmured, tilting Virgil’s chin up just a little higher, “what’s got you so flustered?”

“Nothing.”

“Hmm, nothing? Are you sure? Your ears look awful red.”

“It’s fine.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Roman had said lowly, still cleaning off Virgil’s face with gentle swipes of the cloth, “I’m sure it’s fine, little honeybee, I trust you completely, I’m simply worried. If I’m doing something wrong, then I’d hate for you to be uncomfortable.”

He says, as he’d looked directly into Virgil’s eyes.

“Why,” Virgil had whined out as Roman had chuckled, watching him cover his face, “are you so mean?”

“Sorry, little honeybee,” Roman had murmured, not sounding very sorry at all as he leaned forward to press a kiss to Virgil’s forehead, “I couldn’t resist, you’re too cute.”

“I am not!”

“Oh, little honeybee—“

“No,” Virgil had said—said, definitely, not pouted, “don’t respond to that.”

“If you insist.” Roman had given him another moment before reminding him that he still needs to finish. “I’m really almost done, I promise. It won’t take much longer.”

Of course, having someone hold your face when you were already flustered is not easy, and it was Roman, so…

“What happened,” he had asked as though he didn’t know damn well what had happened, “why aren’t you so sleepy anymore, little honeybee?”

Virgil had been quite impressed with the glare he’d managed to give Roman through the remaining blush on his cheeks. Roman had simply laughed.

“Alright, I deserve that.” He’d stroked a thumb carefully over Virgil’s clean cheek and leaned in to kiss him lightly on the other. “You did wonderfully, little honeybee, thank you. I’m all done now.”

Roman had turned away, putting the cloth and the bottle back into whatever aether he’d pulled them out of and offering his hand to Virgil.

“Come on, do you want to change into something else?”

The sleepy haze had returned by the time he’d managed to get into the softer clothes Roman had offered, all but stumbling into Roman’s arms as they retreated to the large mess of cushions and pillows. Roman had laid down first, Virgil on top of him, one hand tangled in his hair, the other scratching lightly at the center of his four legs.

“Shh, shh,” he’d coaxed when Virgil had started to whine, “none of that now, little honeybee, just relax.”

A soft knock on the door.

“Yes?”

“Roman, have you seen…” Logan had trailed off the instant he spotted them. “Ah. Nevermind.”

“Have I seen our little spider?” Roman had lightly knuckled Virgil’s jaw. “Yes, I believe I have. Did you need something?”

“Only to join you, if you’d allow me.” He’d glanced behind up. “Or rather, allow us.”

Virgil hadn’t been able to fully recognize the others coming in to join them around the mass of pillows, but he had registered the soft weight of Patton asking if he could dust him off a little and the soft gurgle of Remus as he settled in above them on the wall.

“My, my,” a voice had drawled, Virgil too tired to look over at Janus, “what a sleepy little spider.”

“Mm.” Virgil had felt Roman’s chest warm as the hand on his back continued to scratch gently. “Precious little spider.”

“Are you two just going to fuss at him until he falls asleep?”

“Why shouldn’t we?”

“Well, if you fluster him too badly he might not be able to sleep.”

“Why, Logan, I’m hurt. Surely you know we would never.”

Virgil still isn’t sure what it was, whether it was the drawl of Janus’s voice, Logan’s disbelieving scoff, or the very real memory of Roman enjoying driving him out of his mind a few minutes ago, but whatever it was, it bubbled up in the pit of his stomach and he started to giggle.

The room had gone quiet, just listening to Virgil lying on Roman’s chest, absolutely stunned.

“You’re so giggly, little spider,” Roman had teased, “so giggly, so adorable, I’ve never heard you giggle before. It’s so cute!”

“Giggle spider, is that a thing, Logan?”

“Well, it certainly is now.”

Roman had rubbed his back soothingly, still teasing, trying to lull Virgil back to sleep. Janus had reached over and tucked a blanket over the two of them, leaning down to kiss Virgil’s hair and murmur something about getting it out, little spider, it would be alright.

Virgil isn’t sure if that was the first time he’d fallen asleep with a smile on his face, but it wasn’t the last.

“…yes, alright,” Logan concedes, “that was adorable.”

Roman throws his hands up in triumph. “See? Everyone’s favorite is our giggle spider.”

Yeah, Virgil’s really glad he’s not standing next to Roman right now, and that he’s far enough away that they can’t see his blush if he ducks his head. He still gets all giggly when he remembers it, no use in reminding everyone of that now.

“Janus? Are you going to try and compete, or…” Roman strikes a dramatic pose. “Shall we commence with my victory already?”

Janus is quiet for a minute. Then he raises his hand and lets a little bit of the golden glow of the Claim flicker up around his hand.

“Virgil,” he says softly—oh, he’s using it so he doesn’t have to raise his voice, that’s clever— “would you come over here, please?”

“Uh, sure.” He pats Oliver’s head and the kraken burbles, wrapping an arm tightly around Virgil’s waist to set him on the shore near Remus. Remus reaches out to steady him, make sure he’s alright. “I’m good, thanks. I’m here now.”

“Yes, thank you, little mouse.” Janus tilts his head. “Do you have a favorite?”

“…favorite?”

“A time you laughed,” comes the soft voice, “do you have one? It’s alright if you don’t.”

Virgil glances around the circle, expecting to see scoffs or playful challenges or maybe—just maybe—someone will whisper that he knows theirs is the correct choice. But he doesn’t.

All he sees are curious expressions, even a few encouraging smiles.

“Wait, really?”

Janus nods. “Anything? It doesn’t have to be much.”

Virgil thinks. Does he? He remembers meeting Oliver for the first time, remembers making bread with Patton, remembers spinning in the clearing, remembers falling asleep on Roman’s chest.

Something else…something else…

“I remember,” he starts nervously, “it was one of the first times I went for a walk at night by myself.”

He looks around, maybe he wasn’t supposed to do that, but no judgment meets his gaze. He swallows.

“It was dark outside but the moon was really bright. I could see perfectly, even with the trees, all the way to the lake.”

He glances behind him, at Oliver, playing in the reeds.

“Oliver was asleep. He—I think it was after you guys spent the day cleaning out the underbelly of the caverns down there, he was really tired. So the lake was, like, super flat.”

He remembers little ripples, just the barest touch of the breeze to the surface of the water.

“And I, um, I realized that I’d never actually seen anything be that…” He struggles for a moment for the right word. “…still before.”

He shifts a little.

“Everything was always moving. Even when it was quieter, the water was never completely flat. There were waves, there were—there was always something.”

But not that night. No, that night it felt like the lake was breathing, not like the wind was blowing across it. If he sat still enough, it was almost as if he could watch it inhale and exhale, at peace in the moonlight.

“And I…I dunno, I really liked the way the moon looked.” He looks down at his hands. “It, uh, reminded me of what the Claim looks like.”

He’d sat there for a while, just staring at his hands, wondering how the gold of the Claim would look bathed in silvery light. He’d rubbed them together, trying to see if he could feel it, only for something else to emerge entirely.

He hears the gasps of Roman and Patton as a purple orb begins to form in his hands.

“I, uh…made this for the first time that night,” he murmurs, watching it spin and dance in his hands, suspended there, floating like some great bubble, “and it looked…like me.”

He remembers staring into it and not seeing anything but energy. About looking at it the way he used to watch the moon, the stars, anything he could never understand but wanted to, so desperately.

Only to realize that he already understood it.

Gone were the gauntlets, gone were the strings, gone were the threats of torture and hurt and pain.

All that was left was this.

And feeling that relief, seeing this orb as a manifestation of the fact that it was free…

In that release, he’d laughed.

“It was…the first time I think I realized I was me.”

Virgil looks up at them. The orb fades back into nothingness, leaving his hands empty. After a pause, Janus reaches forward and gently draws him in.

“That,” he says softly, “that is my favorite.”

“You fucking sap.”

“He has gone soft.”

“Oh, like you haven’t?”

And just like that, the petty bickering is back, but filled with fondness and barely concealed amusement and it’s so perfect, it’s so right, that Virgil can’t help himself.

Virgil can’t help it, he laughs.

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theonewiththefanfics · 3 years

Text

Give You Hell (one-shot)

Synopsis: When you’re in a relationship with someone famous while being famous it can be difficult. But not for the Reader and Harry, yet when her past comes knocking, she’ll make sure to know where she stands.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, some minor angst, like microscopic

Warnings: swearing, reference to past abusive relationship, but nothing explicit.

Word count: 3428

100% inspired by ‘All American Rejects’’ ‘Gives You Hell’

Dating someone famous while being famous yourself had pros and cons, much like everything in life. The cons mostly came from the outside, not from the inside. It was the opinions of others, thinking what they said mattered, the scrutiny of the press, hoping one of them would mess up, and they could run some bullshit article just so their numbers could go up, without a second thought of how the people involved felt, and it was some jealous fans who didn’t seem to comprehend the people they admired were actual human beings with feelings and thoughts and emotions and autonomy. But other than that, Y/N’s and Harry’s relationship was just like any other. Save for when their emotions bubbled over, millions of people heard them in songs. They’d met at the iconic yellow-suit-Harry Brit awards. She’d been right next to Hugh Jackman opening the show, a red glittering bodysuit with a black and gold ring-master jacket, a top hat adorning her head as she dominated the stage. If Harry had been sloshed at that point (much like he was later on, but who was Y/N to say, given how most of the night was a blur for her), he would’ve absolutely started drooling at the sight of her, and he was one of the thousands who stood up, hollering and clapping as she and Hugh ended their performance.

Much to his dismay though, Y/N wasn’t one of the people assigned to sit by his table, instead, she was a couple of rows behind, whispering something into Billie Eilish’s ear, the two erupting into uncontrollable laughter. He felt like a creep as he tried to catch every possible glimpse of Y/N, her smile making his heart race. She’d been on his radar for a while, had even thought about asking her to collaborate on a song for ‘Fine Line’, but at the end of the day, it was an album of personal discovery (and when one of his producers told him Y/N was halfway across the world in the middle of Norwegian woods for the next half-year working on her own music, he didn’t want to be a bother). But seeing her then, Harry wondered why he hadn’t reached out on his own, especially after at the after-party Lizzo had dragged Y/N to him and introduced the two. The following day, pictures of them dancing together, drinks in hands and drunken grins on their faces would sweep the web, sparking millions of rumours, but, at that moment, they didn’t care, nor did they care about what was written because as Harry twirled Y/N under his arm, as much as the connection was there, that night they went their separate ways. Even when they were drunk, they understood that about the other person, and wouldn’t accept anything else, but a sober and coherent ‘yes’. Sometime midday the next day, Harry reached out to Y/N through a DM on Instagram checking in on how she was doing, which then turned into a six-hour FaceTime call. “What do you mean you’ve never had a hangover?!” Y/N laughed at Harry’s almost offended expression. “I mean I’ve never had a hangover. I’ve never thrown up while drunk or after being drunk, my head’s never hurt – nothing. I mean I’m tired, but that’s because I’m still on New York time and got to bed at like five AM.” “You… are something else.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Is that something else something good?” Y/N didn’t know, but when Harry saw her eyes sparkle, his heart skipped a beat, and he immediately knew – she was it. “The best.” “Well…” she bit her lip. “If I’m the best, would it be too forward of me to ask you out for a coffee?” What Harry didn’t know was that when she saw him smile as if those were the best news in the world, her heart skipped as well, and she knew he was the one. “Only if it’s my treat.” “But I was the one who asked you out.” “Yes, but you can pay for the second date.” Holding in her squeals of joy was tough, but she raised her eyebrow, giving Harry a sly smirk. “Already so confident there’ll be a second date?” Harry scoffed. “And a wedding!” Seeing Y/N throw back her head as she laughed, made all sorts of butterflies fly through his stomach. “Okay, Styles. I’ll take your word for it.” Three months into the relationship, the two were booked to appear on The Graham Norton show together, which was also the first time they’d appear officially as a couple at a work/outing kind of a setting since the rumours started floating, and a picture of Harry kissing Y/N outside of a hotel room had sort of confirmed that. “So, you two.” Graham pointed between Y/N and Harry with his cards. “Have started to date? Not to say anything Harry, but Y/N… I didn’t think boy-bands were your type.” That made her lean over in laughter as Harry gave everyone a shocked face, before slumping back and pouting, nudging Y/N with his knee. “That’s not funny.” “I mean it kind of is.” “She was twelve when she swore off boy-bands.” Graham nodded, taking a sip of his wine. “Isn’t that what you said last time you were here?” “Hey, it’s been ten years since I said that!” Y/N laughed. “Cut me some slack. All the people I was crushing on are married anyway… with kids… and could probably be my dads… I have issues, don’t I?” Everyone exploded into giggles while Harry shook his head, chuckling. “Love you with all of your issues.” He nudged her shoulder, and she nudged right back, taking a sip of her drink. “Yeah, give it a couple of months. You’ll regret your words.” The thing was Y/N was so wrong, and she’d never been happier to be so wrong. Each morning they were together, Harry woke up to her showering him with kisses or vice versa. As private as Harry was, his Instagram stories were now filled with pictures and small videos of them, of Y/N’s face half-covered by a blanket, glasses crooked as she smushed her cheek to his chest and watched a movie, or her eating breakfast while re-watching old Bones and Castle episodes with captions like ‘dunno how she keeps the food down’ and ‘she swears it’s just for research’, while her feed was full of candid Harry photos or her rummaging through his closet and showing everyone his immaculate style, and giving tips how others can recreate it (also she may or may not just use that as a reason to steal his clothes). Generally, people loved it, and their love for one another. It was refreshing to see them enjoy each other’s company, and not be afraid to do so, especially now, given how it was a couple of days before Y/N ended her tour in New York in Madison Square Garden, to which Harry had specifically flown out for despite being in the middle of filming for ‘The Little Mermaid’. Three AM blinked on the clock, as the two finally drifted off to sleep after five hours of a passionate reunion when her phone dinged, indicating a message had arrived. “Turn it off,” Harry grumbled into the skin of Y/N’s back. “’S too early.” She hummed in agreement, furrowing her brows as her palm blindly searched for the offending device, and she squinted her eyes as the light burned her retinas before widening in shock at the message. Harry felt her body go rigid, and he pressed a kiss to her neck. “Everythin’ alright, lovie?” “Uh – “ she stuttered, trying to process the words on the screen. “Uh, yeah. Yes, everything’s fine. Just… some last-minute changes for the show. They want something really big for the ending, and some of the propositions are just…” She could feel a smile stretch across Harry’s mouth. “Extravagant?” “You could say that, yeah.” “Sounds like it’s gonna be one hell of a show. Not that the others weren’t.” Y/N switched the phone off wiping away the message first and then turned to cuddle into Harry’s chest. “It most certainly will.” For the next two days, she was an anxious ball of mess, as her crew got everything ready, and her and her band rehearsed relentlessly before she asked all of them to gather at the studio to add a song to the setlist. “It’s gonna be a couple more hours, Hazza,” Y/N murmured into the phone as Harry had called in to check on her. “ ‘M sorry. You don’t have to wait up for me. I know you’re still adjusting to New York time.” “ ‘S alright,” he slurred, clearly already falling asleep but determined not to. “Can’t sleep without you anyway.” At those words, Y/N’s heart did that stupid flipping thing it’d been doing ever since Harry entered her life to stay, and a shy grin blossomed on her lips. “You’re exhausted, sweetheart. But I’ll tell you what - if you do go to bed, I’ll be sure to wake you up with a kiss when I get back.” “You promise?” She could hear the smile on his face. “Swear it.” “Alright, lovie. I’ll be waiting to cash in on that kiss.” “I’ll run to give it to you as soon as I can. G’night.” “See ya’ in a bit.” Y/N let out a shudder as she heard the call disconnect. She entered back inside the studio and clapped her hands, drawing the attention of her producers and band members. “Where were we?”

***

The hour before a show was always nerve-wracking for Y/N. It’s when the adrenaline truly started to rush, when her feet and palms got all tingly, and her ears and cheeks heated up. It was when their warm-up band exploded on stage, and the crowd got pumped up. But the best moment that night by far was right when she was about to run out, Harry had pulled her back by the wrist and kissed the living daylights out of her. “You’re gonna kill it tonight,” he muttered against her lips, words skimming her mouth and making her smile as bright as the sun. She seemed to do that a lot around him. It’s why he now dedicated Golden to her every time he sang it. “Thank you. For being here.” Harry flicked her nose. “Always. Now go. People are waiting.” When Y/N finally appeared on stage, pretty much glowing as brightly as the stage lights, her fans went wild, and even more so when she jumped, starting off the show. The whole time, her gaze flitted to backstage just to get a glimpse of Harry, and whenever she did, she saw him dancing, singing along, filming her having fun and some clips of himself as well, going absolutely ham to her songs. As the night was moving towards the end, usually, she’d feel euphoria from giving a great performance, after hearing thousands of people sing her songs in unison, now Y/N felt closer to throwing up and fainting. “So uh…” She pushed back strands of sweaty hair, hollers of people echoing in her head. “This is a very special show tonight. Umm… this is the first concert my boyfriend’s come t - .” She didn’t even get to finish the sentence before the cheers of the people interrupted her, deafening the girl even with the earplugs. “But umm… it’s also a special show because two days ago someone reached out to me, and uh… he… well, he was as important of a person once the same way Harry is right now, and he wrote this.” Y/N went over to where the piano chair was, lifted it and fished out her phone from it, revealing the message that’d been basically haunting her nights and days since receiving it. “Breaking up with you was the biggest mistake I ever made.” To her own surprise, her voice was steady and sure, unlike her hands which were trembling like leaves in a storm. “I know you look happy and in love, but I know it’s not true. I’ve known you for five years, I know how to see through the mask you put on every day just to make sure others are happy while you yourself suffer an inauthentic life. But you do deserve to be happy. And I’ll be waiting for you if you decide to give us a chance again. I’ll be at your concert in Madison Square.” She looked out into the crowd. “You wrote a song once for me. If you sing it, that’s how I’ll know you feel the same.” By the time she got to the end, there were no more shouts or screams, but confused murmurs. Y/N let out a shuddering breath, hoping that she could manage to do what she wanted, and everything didn’t fall apart. “The thing is, I’d like for Harry to come on stage, please.” She could see the fear in his eyes as he jogged to stand next to her, but he disguised it with an overenthusiastic smile as he waved over towards the raging sea of people. He’d seen the message, had seen her reread it more than fifty times by that point, and as sure as he was in their relationship, when someone who held such importance, no matter if good or not, in someone’s life came knocking again, you could never be too sure what would happen. Harry didn’t want to say anything, believing if it was important enough, she’d tell him. Guess that was it. “So, uh…” Y/N pulled Harry’s arms over her shoulders and grasped onto them, grounding them both. “This is for you.” Y/N looked over into the crowd before glancing over her shoulder, Y/E/C eyes meeting Harry’s wavering green ones. “And you,” she whispered so that only he could hear. “Hope you know I mean everything.” As the cords started playing, she felt Harry unwarp his arms from where she’d been holding them over her shoulders and a smile erupted on her face. “I wake up every evening,” Y/N sang, “with a big smile on my face, and it never feels out of place.” “And you’re still probably workin’,” Harry’s voice joined in, grin as wide as the Cheshire cat’s, as he now had a microphone in hand, the other placing earplugs in his own ears, “at a nine-to-five pace… I wonder how bad that tastes.” “When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell,” the two harmonized, Y/N’s eyes locked onto the masses, imagining the face of her ex-boyfriend who had the audacity to send that message. “When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell.” Harry was looking at the crowd as well, now fully understanding the message and the person behind it, and although he lived by ‘treat people with kindness’, he couldn’t help but gloat at the fact he got to sing with the love of his life on stage, and basically serenade a break-up song to a person who didn’t know how to appreciate what he’d had. Y/N cocked her head to the side. “Now, where’s your picket fence, love, and where’s that shiny car? It didn’t ever get you far. You’ve never seemed so tense, love. I’ve never seen you fall so hard. Do you know where you are?” It was hard not to smile, knowing where she was and who she was with. Harry threw an arm over Y/N’s shoulders as she sang, giving a mock sad look, while Harry pouted. “And truth be told, I miss you… And truth be told, I’m lying!” “When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you find a gal that’s worth a damn and treats you well.” Y/N pointed towards where she imagined her ex was standing. “Then she’s the fool, you’re just as well, hope it gives you hell! Hope it gives you hell!” For a split second, the music slowed down, guitar strumming in the air, as Harry pulled Y/N by the palm and towards his chest. When the next lyrics came out of his mouth, he knew them to be true as he sang them to the man, he’d heard Y/N talk about, to the man who thought everything he’d done to her, every horrible word and deed was justified, to the man who thought breaking someone else down was the only way to bring themselves up. “Now tomorrow you’ll be thinking to yourself, where did it all go wrong, but the list goes on and on.” “And truth be told, she misses you,” Harry hummed, Y/N letting out a large laugh, holding onto his bicep, as he slightly changed the lyrics. “And truth be told, she’s lying! When you see her face, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you walk her way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you find a gal that’s worth a damn and treats you well.” Harry sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “Then she’s the fool you’re just as well hope it gives you hell.” “Now you’ll never see,” Y/N took over the song. “What you’ve done to me.” She placed a hand over her heart. “You can take back your memories, they’re no good to me. And here’s all your lies, you can look me in the eyes, with that sad, sad look that you wear so well.” She dragged her finger down her cheek, giving a pout while Harry mimicked her stance before turning the mic to the audience. “When you see my face, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell,” the crowd sang back with such vigour, Y/N was sure the whole ground was shaking just from their voices, and the clapping and stomping to the drum rhythm would bring the whole world down. “When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you find a gal that’s worth a damn and treats you well, then she’s the fool you’re just as well, hope it gives you hell!” The two were jumping around the stage like madmen, adrenaline filling their veins. “When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell!” “Hope it gives you hell!” Everyone else repeated. “When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell!” “Hope it gives you hell!” “When you sing this song and sing along, well you’ll never tell. Then you’re the fool, I’m just as well, hope it gives you hell!” Y/N grinned once more, placing her hand over her heart, meaning every word – she was just as well. She had amazing friends, a career that’d flourished, and a person who loved her more than words could describe. “When you hear this song, I hope that it will give you hell!” Harry crooned down the mic, knowing their happiness would, Y/N’s happiness would give him hell. And he enjoyed it, knowing how good her life was. “You can sing along I hope that it puts you through hell!” Her voice became the only sound as the last word echoed around everyone, her chest heaving up and down from the exertion, from all of the emotions running through her body as well as the overwhelming feeling of not only having Harry watch her perform but to end up performing with him. When his hands wrapped around her body, it startled her out from the daze, and the popping confetti startled her even more, as the rest of her band joined the two to take their bows, grins on all of their faces while they did so. “Not the song you thought I’d sing, is it?” Y/N laughed into the mic, Harry’s arms tightening around her waist. “There’s a reason I blocked your number, let alone you from my life. Don’t think I won’t do it again.” “But I would like to say thank you, to the asshole in question,” Harry said, making Y/N’s forehead scrunched up. “You let go of the best person ever; you had the honour of calling yourself her boyfriend, but instead, you chose to walk away. So, thank you for that. Because now I’ll have that honour and pleasure for the rest of our lives.” Yeah. It was one hell of a show.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15 @breezykpop @girlboss99 @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist @alliyjane @sirtommyholland

A/N: I love ‘All American Rejects’ and have been listening to ‘Gives You Hell’ non stop. It’s the best break-up song ever, and you won’t convince me otherwise.

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. please don’t repost my work on other platforms without my explicit written permission. reblogs are fine :)

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calaofnoldor · 3 years

Text

Drug of Choice

Characters: Dean x Reader (gender neutral)

Words: 3,790

Summary: A night of drunken rambling leads to an unexpected change in your relationship status.

Warnings: angst, language, alcohol, feelings of inadequacy, very slight allusions of alcoholism/talk of drug addiction, reader likes the sound of their voice a bit too much when drunk, fluff, implied smut

A/N: written for @deanwanddamons 1st blogiversary and 2k follower celebration challenge! my prompt was “I wish I knew how to quit you“ which is bolded in the fic. congrats on the incredible milestone, sorry this is late! also for @spnfluffbingo and it fills the mood board square for @girl-next-door-writes‘ Make Me Feel Bingo challenge!

Square Filled: Kissed to Keep Quiet

MASTERLIST

It was four in the morning when Dean finally came home, and the bottle of Jack Daniels that sat before you atop the library table was over a quarter of the way through.

The heavy thud of his boots against the bunker floor drew your dark-adjusted eyes toward his shadowy figure, while the alcohol in your bloodstream loosened your lips, "How was she?"

"Jesus- Fuck!" There was a slight commotion before the lights flickered on, forcing your eyes to shut against the onslaught of sudden brightness. "Y/N??” Dean’s gruff, alarmed voice shattered the previously eerie silence, “What the hell are you doing sitting in the dark by yourself?"

Your eyelids lifted an experimental sliver but you kept your gaze directed down at the glass of whiskey in your hands. "It wasn't dark when I started."

Dean narrowed his eyes when he noticed the slur behind your words. "Started what? Are you drunk?"

His second question prompted a dismissive snort from you, "Hunters can't get drunk; you should know that by now, Dean."

"Yeah alright, we need to get you to bed." The man of your dreams began to make his way over to you until your gravelly words ceased his steps.

"I can't sleep... you haven't answered my question yet."

"What question?"

"How was she?"

"Who?"

You looked at him like he was crazy, "You know, the girl from the bar, the one with the curly hair… the one that was climbing onto your lap when I left?"

"I don't- there was no girl," Dean stumbled. His lips were parted and his eyebrows pulled together in an ever-gorgeous expression of bewilderment, but you were too busy examining the way the newfound light danced along the lustrous amber liquid between your fingers to notice.

"Oh," you grumbled in response, sounding a bit disappointed, which only served to deepen those adorable lines of confusion between Dean’s brows. "She sure was pretty though.” There was a pause as you pondered his declaration before blurting out in disbelief, “You really didn't fuck her in the back of Baby?"

"What- No! Y/N, there was never a girl and nothing happened, OK?" He sounded genuinely serious, so you conceded.

"I'm sorry."

"Why- why are you sorry?"

"I know you needed to blow off some steam after today, after I pissed you off by fucking up the hunt." You ventured a glance up at him through your lashes and the unadulterated pain in your eyes almost had Dean reeling back in surprise.

"What are you talking about? You didn't 'fuck up' the hunt," he argued, shaking his head as if to accentuate his point.

"Course I did. I got you hurt and I nearly let that dickbag get away."

A weighted sigh escaped Dean, "Y/N, you have to know that wasn’t your fault, and it’s not like you haven’t done the same thing for me. Besides, I wasn’t pissed off, I was... I was scared, OK?”

You were about to take another sip of your drug of the night when you lowered your glass to let the irrepressible giggle leave your system, “Scared? Since when does the big bad Dean Winchester get scared? And if he did, he definitely wouldn’t be talking about it out loud. Are you sure you’re not the one who’s been drinking?”

“I mean, I have been drinking but that’s beside the point. Look, Y/N, why don’t we talk about this tomorrow, alright? You’ve just gotta sleep this off.”

"Pft. This isn't something I can just sleep off. Trust me, I've tried." There was a tickle in your throat that alerted you of the oncoming word vomit, but your friend Mr. Daniels seemed to be gaining complete control of your tongue; it was all he was ever good for really, “I’ve also tried drinking it away, but clearly that doesn’t work either. There’s just- so much- of it, of you… and now, now you’re in me-“ Dean’s eyes went wide but you were no longer at liberty to stop, “and I can’t get you out. Sometimes I don’t even think I want to. But I don’t think I can keep going like this any longer either… all this waiting, and wondering, and watching.” Some fragment of sobriety within you recognized how ridiculous and melodramatic you sounded and it gave you enough sense to avoid eye contact with the subject of you’re alcohol-induced speech, as if that could help you elude further embarrassment.

“OK, you’ve gotta slow down, Y/N/N. What the hell are you talking about?” At this point, Dean had moved to take the seat across from you, subtly sliding the bottle of Jack out of your reach as he sat down.

A mirthless laugh was your reply, "Of course you don’t know. Why would you?“

“What does that mean? Why wouldn’t I? Y/N, what’s going on?”

But you ignored his questions and answered with one of your own, “Why am I never enough? You know what, don't answer that; that was a rhetor- rhetor…”

“Rhetorical?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed, flailing your index finger in his direction, “Yes, that’s the word. See, even your brain is too good for me.”

“What- why would you say that? Y/N, you know that’s not true. And why do you think you’re never enough? You’re plenty enough.” Concern now painted Dean’s features. He hated seeing you this way, broken and depressed, trying to drown your feelings in whiskey; he’d figured that was his trademark amongst the bunker residents. And he couldn’t understand how someone as incredible as you would think themselves unworthy of anything. Whichever son of a bitch made you feel this way would pay, Dean swore it.

“Then how come you never pick me?” you countered simply, deciding it was finally time to call out his hypocrisy.

The accusation floored Dean. He scooted back in his seat as he stared at you with a slack jaw, utter perplexity swirling within his emerald eyes. Over the years, Dean had garnered an inkling that you felt some kinda way about him, but he never really let himself believe, and not once did he think he could be hurting you. On the contrary, he always figured it was his own hopeful heart playing tricks on him. Even now, he wasn’t entirely sure he was hearing you correctly, or that your drunken state could be trusted, though he remembered you once told him that you were always the most honest version of yourself when you drank, whiskey in particular.

“I watch you go out with waitress after bartender after waitress, but I’ve been here the whole time, and you never consider me. It’s like I don’t even exist, like I’m not even an option, like I could never even help you scratch that itch, at least not as good as any barfly across the Midwest could.” You were aware that this was getting out of hand, but you couldn’t seem to find the brakes. “But that’s not even the real problem – I mean, sure, a roll around the hay with you would probably be mind-blowing as fuck – but it would never solve the root of it, never be enough for me.”

Dean had been studying you meticulously as you spoke, your words starting a fire to the embers of his soul, breathing life into a long-forgotten hope that brought him both joy and fear. “What would? Be enough for you, I mean?” His tone took on a raw sultriness that matched the intense, borderline predatory glaze of his eyes. Needless to say, Dean hadn’t expected your sardonic laughter to fill the air, and your sudden frenzied, carefree state certainly took him off guard.

“Nothing!” you laughed, “I don’t think anything will ever be enough for me! C-cause you’re like this drug that I’m hooked on and it’s just so fucking hard to get off… I mean, it’s also hard to get off without you now, or thoughts of you anyway...” Your tangent was quickly overcome when you remembered the topic of your initial spiel, “But it’s like everything about you draws me in! From the way you reference classic literature even though I’ve never seen you pick up a book that’s not about lore, to the way you rebuild Baby from scratch like it’s no big deal, to the way you’re so good with kids even though you never got to be one yourself, to the dumb way you bottle up all your feelings and never let them see the light of day yet still manage to do so much good in the world, t-to the way you get excited over classic rock and crappy horror movies and pie, and don’t even get me started on the way you love Sam! I mean, it’s just all of it! It’s your strength and perseverance through literal hell, it’s your huge fucking heart despite the mask of swagger and charm, it’s that stupid grin you get when you make a dumb joke and Sam rolls his eyes at you, it’s just those god damn lips in general! And then you walk around looking like that!?” you gestured wildly at all of him, “I mean, who gave you the right?!”

Dean looked like he was about to respond, but you cut him off. There really was no stopping your tirade now, “I’m like an addict who can never get enough, and when you leave, I get feelings of withdrawal, and I don’t know how to fucking deal with those either… You’re so deeply ingrained in me; I don’t think I’ll ever be able to flush you out of my system. And I just-“ you took a rare pause to heave a large breath before admitting quietly, “I wish I knew how to quit you. I really do, because as much as I love you, and trust me, it’s a whole fucking lot – God, does it feel good to finally say that out loud – but for every ounce of love that I have for you, for every bit of you that I’ve inhaled, it hurts just as much. Because you don’t feel the same, and you never will, and I don’t blame you, because you’re Dean fucking Winchester and you could have whoever you want with just a wink and half a smile, and you deserve to have whoever you want-”

“Are you done?” Dean was quick to latch onto the brief respite in your monologue, “Fuck, Y/N, you really have no idea what you do to me, do you? What you are to me?” His head shook in disbelief while his troubled green eyes searched yours.

“What I am to you? I’m your hunting buddy, Dean. The one you call when you need an extra hand with a vamp nest or an extra set of eyes to scour the books, the one who stays up with you when you have nightmares about the souls you tortured in hell, the one you sing rock songs out of tune in the car with, just never the one you go to for a booty call,” you finished with a bitter laugh.

Dean’s head had never ceased it’s shaking, even as he got up and walked around the table towards you. “Only because you’re worth so much more than that. Y/N, you deserve so much more than me.”

It was your turn to shake your head. How typical, you thought as you rolled your eyes and stood up to meet his eye line, “Don’t give me that bullshit, Dean. I know you’re trying to let me down easy and that’s nice of you and all, but you can’t fool me. I know you too well, Dean Winchester, and I know there’s no way in hell that- Mmf!“ The rest of your words were intercepted by Dean’s lips on yours.

The feeling was unexpected but not at all unwelcome. There was an urgent force behind the kiss as he pushed his mouth against yours with gentle yet firm ferocity, bracing your head with large hands cupping both sides. It felt as if he was desperately trying to convey a message to you, to disprove your woeful words of self-pity, or perhaps he just wanted you to shut up. You, of course, responded with tremendous enthusiasm regardless of his intent, grasping blindly at his forearms while slotting your tongue and lips around his in an increasingly frantic manner. You didn’t care if the kiss wasn’t good for him; this might be your only chance to take what you need from Dean Winchester, if only a tiny fraction of it.

When he finally pulled back, you were both panting for air. Dean still held your head in both hands as he leaned forward to rest his forehead upon yours. “Dammit, I shouldn’t have done that; you’re drunk... Do you at least believe me now?”

A slight grimace contorted Dean’s features as his mind was suddenly bombarded by a multitude of conflicted thoughts and feelings, feelings of desire and regret and bliss and unease, but when he caught the dazed look in your eyes, Dean made up his mind, “Ah, what the hell, you’re probably not gonna remember much of this anyway. Look, Y/N, you’re wrong. I do feel the same way about you; I have pretty much ever since I saw that magnificent ass of yours.” Pausing to chuckle at his own words, Dean licked his lips, still able to taste the whiskey from yours.

“The only reason I fucked around with those other people was because I couldn’t stand not being able to have you,” he continued through closed eyes and gritted teeth before filling his chest with a deep breath, “Like today, when I saw that fucking werewolf come at you, I nearly lost it. The thought of anything happening to you scares me shitless, and I didn’t know how to process that feeling, so I let that girl at the bar get close. I was trying to fill the hole you created but it was pointless cause in the end, just like every other time, I couldn’t go through with it. Every time I try to forget about you, your face shows up in my head,” he growled in that low, throaty tone that always seemed to reverberate down to your nether regions.

“But I- I wasn’t lying when I said you deserve more than me. Y/N, you know me. I’m a broken, twisted, shell of a man. I’m-“

“Poison, I know,” you finally lifted your head away from his so that you could look directly into his dazzling eyes. Dean’s hands slid down along your neck and landed on your shoulders while yours remained on his forearms, not willing to lose all contact. “I know what you’re gonna say. You think you’re poison, that being with you puts a target on my back, that loving you is a death sentence… Did I get that right?”

Dean gave you a miniscule nod and a look of resignation as he reluctantly released you from his hold, forcing you to let go as well when he took a large step back. You suddenly felt extremely sober, the effects of the alcohol and that kiss all wearing off instantaneously, “And you hate yourself. No one hates you more than you, Dean.” Your voice was hardly a whisper now, “But that’s OK, cause I hate myself too, for never being able to make you realize that you are so much more than you give yourself credit for, that you deserve all the things you think you can’t have, that you can have them all and still be Dean Winchester.”

You watched as Dean’s eyes began to water and when a single tear rolled down his cheek, you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. Approaching him as slowly as you would a nervous animal out of its natural habitat, you stopped directly before him before cautiously raising your arm to wipe the offending tear away with your thumb. Your eyes seemed to be locked in a silent exchange of colossal magnitude, expressing everything mere words could not, from harrowing regret to agonizing self-inflicted torment to desperate desire. It was the yearning in his shimmering eyes that gave you the courage to speak your next words, a runaway tear of your own joining the whispered plea, “Please, let me show you.”

When your eyes fluttered open the next day, they were greeted with the most beautiful sight you'd ever awoken to. Dean’s face was barely a foot away from yours, and the man himself was already awake, staring directly at you. He was lying on his back with his head turned towards you, while your body was twisted to face his. A bedside lamp was on, allowing you to marvel at the breathtaking perfection in front of you, and despite the booze having long since evacuated from your veins, your mouth still imparted the first thing that came to your mind, “You know, I've always wanted to count your freckles,” you murmured honestly, “Maybe map them out like tiny constellations so I can memorize them better, so that one day I could trace them even with my eyes closed.” Your fingertips moved of their own accord as you spoke, gliding softly over his cheeks and across the ridge of his perfect nose.

Dean caught your hand in his and kissed it repeatedly as his magical olive eyes continued to bore into yours, never once leaving your face. His pouty lips curved into the slightest smile as if he were afraid to rear hope yet couldn't fight the peaceful thrill you were bringing him by simply lying next to him. “You’re not still drunk, are you?”

“Not unless it counts to be drunk on you… Sorry, that sounded a lot less cheesy in my head.” You cringed but Dean’s smile broadened.

“And no hangover?”

“No, I told you, hunters can’t-“

“Get drunk. Yeah, I heard. So does that mean you remember everything?”

“I don’t think I could forget that kiss if I wanted to; my brain wouldn’t let me.” You glanced down at his gorgeous mouth before meeting his gaze again, “I meant it all, you know? Everything I said was the truth. Every word.” You moved your thumb to graze his lower lip and he puckered his lips to kiss it.

“So did I, every word… Especially the part about that sweet ass of yours.” The hand that wasn’t holding yours roamed down to grab at your butt cheek with a hefty yet tender squeeze, causing you to squeal in delight. When you settled down, he moved your hand to place it above his heart, “You know I’m no good at chick flick moments, but you can trust me when I say I’m addicted to you too.”

The sincerity in his voice sent butterflies through your stomach and your smile felt invincible. “I hope you know that when I called you a ‘drug’ I didn’t mean it in a derogatory way. Some drugs are good for you. Some drugs can save your life,” you whispered as you fisted lightly at the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

“I wouldn’t go that far, sweetheart.”

“Isn’t that what you did yesterday?” Dean was about to retort but you sent him a raised brow and a look that said ‘don’t test me, I’ve got loads more evidence where that came from’ so he simply looked down with a small grin. “Does it still hurt?” You motioned to the white bandage on his shoulder where the werewolf had scratched him up yesterday when he jumped in front of you.

Dean shook his head, “Right now I can hardly feel it. Actually, it hasn’t hurt at all since I kissed you.”

The corners of your mouth lifted some more at his words. “See, that’s what I mean. To me, you’re like coffee on an early morning, morphine when I’m hurting, tranquilizers when I’m freaking out, Zoloft when the world’s got me down, mixed with a shot of ecstasy, and quite possibly the most potent form of Viagra known to mankind.” You might have lingered a moment to chuckle at your own joke, thinking ‘it’s funny cause it’s true’. Dean belted a guffaw himself and you were quite pleased as you continued, “You’re everything I’ve ever needed, all wrapped up in one beautiful, self-loathing man.” You stroked his stubbled jaw and caressed his cheek, letting your words waft softly across the distance between you, hoping he could sense the veracity within them, “And I just want you to let me love you, let me get high on you, so I can show you how good you are. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

A wave a sadness flowed through Dean and he lowered his gaze from yours. “This could end bloody.”

“I know,” you nodded, “But it’s so much better than the alternative... It was getting a bit too hard to bear, even if you were only eye fucking all those other suitors. Besides, if it means I get to kiss you whenever I want, it’ll be worth it. And if it means I get a chance to prove to you how worthy you are, then it’ll be more than worth it.”

“I was only staying away because I wanted to protect you from me, but I didn’t realize it was hurting you. I never wanted to cause you pain; Y/N, I need you to know that.” Dean’s warm, calloused palm ran up your arm, it’s gentleness in stark contrast to his fierce tone, while yours continued to cup his cheek.

Astounded by the passion behind his words and the utter beauty of his face, you whispered in awe, “How are you so perfect?” Seeing the cogs begin to turn in his brain, you quickly moved your index finger to press against his plush lips, “Shh, just let me say it. Baby steps, Dean.”

He took your finger and guided your arm to wrap around his wide shoulders, careful of his injury, then reached out to pull you snugly towards him until your bodies were completely flush, your chest heaving against his. “Well do we have to take baby steps with everything? Cause now that I’ve finally got you in my bed, I was kinda hoping you’d let me take you for a spin in it. Maybe find out if it’s really – how did you put it again? – ‘mind blowing as fuck’ I believe were your words?” That signature smirk of his that always brought you to your knees came out to play.

Your laughter fanned across his face, and the smile on your face was effervescent, “You really are one hell of a drug, Dean Winchester.”

thank you for reading! as always, feedback is marvelously appreciated!

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unbridgeabledistances · 3 years

Text

a ✨drunk and clingy ian✨ one-shot

okay so we all know that saint patrick’s day is a very arbitrary and somewhat meaningless holiday (at least in the u.s. lol)- but we also know that the gallaghers are incredibly fucking irish, so i am using this as an excuse to write some drunk and clingy gallavich fluff (bc i think we all need it!! or at least i do!!!!)

hope y’all enjoy<3

Mickey and Ian came in the door from their final weed security run of a way-too-chilly and grey March afternoon, kicking the slush off of their lace-up boots in a tired but comfortable silence. Mickey had been fantasizing for a good part of the afternoon about his usual afternoon ritual of collapsing onto the couch with a cold beer in his hand, and taking a long lazy nap while shitty game shows played on the TV in the background— but unfortunately, Debbie had other plans. Or so he realized when he turned the corner and his eyes were met with a forest of green and white streamers blanketing the living room, with Debbie determinedly balancing on a kitchen chair to hang them in the doorway.

Mickey did a double-take, shooting a glance at Ian and then back at the festive room again. What the fuck? He quickly racked his brain— there was no way he’d could’ve forgotten Franny’s birthday, that was in the summer—and he was pretty sure that Liam’s birthday was in the winter sometime; so whose the fuck was it? Too many goddamn Gallaghers to keep track of. Finally, Mickey admitted his own defeat.

“Is it someone’s fuckin’ birthday or something?”

Mickey flashed another gaze to Ian in confusion as he said it, hoping that Ian would silently mouth whatever the occasion was to him, or at the very least raise his eyebrows and goad Mickey enough to jog his memory to remember whatever the fuck today was— but Ian just gave an easygoing grin as he took in the room’s decor and let out a laugh.

“Debbie, isn’t this kind of going overboard?”

Debbie looked over her shoulder from where she was now taping a crudely scribbled picture of a shamrock, most likely drawn by Franny, up onto the wall.

“What? If it’s our last Saint Patrick’s Day in the house, the least we can do is go out with a bang,” she answered nonchalantly, and continued fixating on hanging up Franny’s drawing.

Mickey inadvertently let out a scoff and rolled his eyes. Fucking Gallaghers.

“I’m sorry, fucking Saint Patrick’s Day?”

Ian’s lips formed a playful smile and he elbowed Mickey between the ribs. “Yeah, Mick, Saint Patrick’s Day— also known as the unironically most important day of the Gallagher family calendar year. I can’t believe I forgot it was today, with all the work stuff we had going on.”

At first Mickey couldn’t tell if Ian was actually being serious— but in the same second he decided that it didn’t really matter, since Ian’s eyes were bright and shining and there was this weird giddy grin he was sporting from ear to ear, like he was absolutely fucking delighted that it was Saint Patrick’s Day, instead of just a normal goddamn Wednesday. Fucking softie.

And as endearing as that was, Mickey still couldn’t let him off that easily. “There’s no way I’m celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day. It’s a fake holiday for yuppie rich kids to go bar hopping—I’m not getting involved in any of your Gallagher bullshit.”

Ian’s grin just grew, like he knew exactly what Mickey was doing. “Hey, you married into this family. If anything, this is your own fault.”

Mickey just rolled his eyes, then continued to unlace his boots and throw them by the doorway.

“The fuck do you do anyways, aside from getting trashed?”

Ian put a hand on Mickey’s upper back to steady himself as he pulled his own shoes off. “I think getting trashed pretty much sums up the festivities. Today’s practically a holy day of observance for Frank, and I’m assuming Debbie’s also just gonna use today as an excuse to get drunk on a Wednesday.”

“Hell yeah I am!” Debbie called from where she was putting the chair back in the kitchen.

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “I knew Gallaghers were white trash, but I had no idea you were this bad.”

“Oh, come on. You don’t have any Ukranian white trash holidays or whatever?”

Mickey held back a bitter laugh. Yeah, they had “holidays,” in the form of days when Terry was celebratorily drunk enough to leave them the fuck alone for 24 hours, rare occasions when his looming shadow was out of the house and a festive lightness bled in in its place. They sort of celebrated Christmas, which was mostly just associated with too many painful memories of Terry ripping open the presents before he or his brothers had the chance, and too many painful stings associated with him having one too many drinks as they sat quietly inside the sagging house and pretended to be a big happy family for one night a year.

But never anything as gaudy and deliberate and ridiculous as observing a C-list, Irish-American holiday just for the hell of it, just for fun—which yes, was probably fueled by Frank’s alcoholism more than anything else, but also made something swell in Mickey’s insides that he didn’t quite know how to place.

And Mickey didn’t know how to let out that entire internal monologue to Ian while Debbie was standing within earshot. “Nah, man. Milkoviches don’t really do… holidays.”

Ian snaked a hand around Mickey’s back, giving his shoulder a squeeze, a grounding touch. He gets it.

“Well, get ready to have your mind blown, Mr. Gallavich, because we’re about to celebrate this hallowed occasion Gallagher style.”

Mickey rolled his eyes again, but let himself lean into Ian’s touch, lean his weight ever-so-slightly against Ian’s chest that was pressed behind him by the doorway. And, okay— as stupid as this was, maybe there was something sort of warm and solid about tradition, about hand-scribbled shamrocks and streamers on the wall, about having days to celebrate just because you wanted to, just because you could…

Just then Franny came hurdling into the room, wearing a baggy green t-shirt and a face-painted shamrock adorning her cheek.

Ian’s face lit up when she stopped in front of them. “Hey Franny! Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!”

Franny held out two bottles of beer to Ian and Mickey from where she had been hiding them behind her back.

“Mommy said I should give these to you when you came home!”

Mickey smirked, carefully taking the bottles from Franny’s outstretched hands. “Thanks, kiddo.”

And if all celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day took was knocking down a few beers on a weekday afternoon—well, Mickey wasn’t going to complain about that.

Of course, hours later Mickey realized how severely he’d underestimated Debbie’s enthusiasm— after lounging around the house waiting for the stream of Gallaghers to trickle in from their various daily activities, Debbie had rounded everyone up and they migrated to the Alibi as the sun was setting, where they’d met up with Kev and V and Lip and Tami, who (thank fucking god) looked as vaguely confused and fully apathetic about this whole “Saint Patrick’s Day” situation as Mickey did.

Now it was late, and Mickey was leaning against the bartop of the Alibi sipping a thick, foamy glass of Guinness, which was as close to embracing whatever-the-fuck Irish heritage his husband had as he was possibly going to get.

All of the Gallaghers were here, swirling around the room—Debbie had put on some sort of peppy music as Kev poured everyone drinks, and a couple of other Southside neighbors had heard the bass thrumming and joined the ruckus. The room wasn’t too crowded, but it was pleasantly full of bodies and chatter— Kev had bought bunches of shiny, tacky green mardi gras beads for everyone to wear, and the air in the room was festive and bordering on sloppy in a way that felt very different from how Mickey had envisioned this evening would go.

Mickey was pacing himself, because it was a Wednesday for fuck’s sake— but his husband was an entirely different story. Between the beers at home and the various drinks Debbie had been siphoning into his hands all night, Ian was teetering on the drunkest Mickey had seen him in years—which partially made the tiniest spark of trepidation start to creep into Mickey’s bloodstream, a spark that he immediately extinguished. It was one night, the first in a long time— Ian deserved to have some fun.

And he definitely, definitely was having fun— casually dancing with Debbie and Sandy and whoever else would humor him, grinning with red-hot cheeks and bright eyes— from across the room Mickey could tell how warm his skin would be if he pressed a hand against it, how flushed. Mickey wasn’t really in the mood for dancing, or whatever the fuck stumbling around and chatting and making friends Drunk Ian was up to for the evening, and he was perfectly content to nurse his drink at the bar— which is why it surprised him when Ian pulled himself out of the crowd, slightly stumbling over his own feet, and made the way across the room to where Mickey was leaning at the bar, immediately boxing him in and putting his hands square on Mickey’s waist. Mickey almost imperceptibly let in a sharp breath.

Ian looked down at him, all smiles and shiny eyes— when he spoke the scent of sweet, hot liquor danced on Mickey’s face and all he wanted was to be closer, to breathe it in.

“Are you having fun?” Ian’s right hand traced up Mickey’s side, then back down to its hold on his hipbone.

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “You and your leprechaun family don’t mess around, Gallagher.”

Ian smiled a lazy, tipsy smile, and pecked Mickey’s cheek before Mickey could be embarrassed about it.

“D’you wanna dance with me?”

Ian’s hands slid off of his hips and entangled with Mickey’s hands that had been hanging limply at his sides, walking backwards so their fingers were laced together an arm’s distance apart.

Mickey shrugged noncommittally. “I’ll leave showing the Irish pride to you and the rest of the drunken Gallaghers.”

Ian registered Mickey’s words and opened his mouth to reply, just as Debbie pulled Ian over by the arm.

“Stop sulking with Mickey and do more shots with me!”

Jesus Christ. Ian was going to be wrecked when their alarm went off for work in the morning, and Mickey was starting to debate if he was going to need to have a talking-to with Debbie about the appropriate amount of “Saint Patrick’s Day fun” they were allowed to partake in next year— but for now Ian was happy, and he could stomach one night of hardcore festivities.

Mickey stood at the bar for a while, watching Ian and Debbie get progressively more flushed as they bobbed through the crowd— and then, when Debbie had found some other victim in their mid-twenties to get even more shitfaced with, Ian made his way across the room to Mickey again, plopping onto the barstool beside him and heaving his bodyweight onto Mickey’s left side, burying his face in the crook of Mickey’s neck. Mickey wrapped a tentative arm around Ian’s waist, trying to hold him up from slouching off of the barstool.

“M’tired.” Mickey could feel Ian’s hot breath dancing on his collarbone as he slurred out the words, and felt Ian’s eyelids flutter shut against the side of his neck.

Ian was always giving Mickey measured casual touches, wherever they were—but it was so exceedingly rare that Ian fully let himself go like this, let himself be drunk and happy and just crumple into Mickey, without worrying about holding anyone else up. It felt new, but it felt good— Mickey let the solid weight of his husband’s body leaning against his press him down, rooting him into the Alibi’s sticky floors, feeling the clammy skin of Ian’s forehead that was solidly lodged into the side of Mickey’s neck.

He hated to admit it, but in that moment, something in Mickey was also frozen solid— as much as Mickey had grown in the past few years, something about these situations, about PDA or whatever, still made Mickey feel like he was treading water—like he was fighting to stay afloat while everyone’s eyes were on him, and the strong current was only lifted when he and Ian were in the dark safety of their bedroom. If Mickey was drunk at a bar and sloppily leaning onto Ian, there was no doubt in Mickey’s mind that Ian would hold him, would gingerly touch him and caress him and do more to him than just prop him up— but something in Mickey still hesitated and flashed with warning signs in a crowded room full of people.

But Ian was still breathing hot on Mickey’s neck— so Mickey thought about what Ian would do, if it was Mickey who was tipsy and slumped on his shoulder. He tentatively raised his arm from where it was lying limply by his side, and started to run soothing circles onto Ian’s t-shirt, just above his hipbone where Mickey’s hand was holding Ian up by his waist.

Ian hummed in acknowledgement of the touch— and then he pressed a tender kiss to the crook of Mickey’s neck, where his face was buried. Fuck. Mickey just pulled him in closer, gently tugging Ian’s torso in by his belt loop to hold him steady.

Ian hummed again, then started to press kisses up and down Mickey’s neck. “You smell good.”

Mickey’s heart started to beat a little quicker, his blood running hotter than usual—and Ian couldn’t fucking do this now, while the rest of his family was milling around and dancing and wearing fucking mardi gras beads while flaunting their Gallagher pride.

Ian lifted his forehead off of Mickey’s shoulder, and gently bit at the underside of Mickey’s jaw—and Mickey thought he was going to combust right there, on the spot, in a room full of Gallaghers pressed against the bartop at the Alibi by his very drunk husband.

And in an act of excruciatingly inconvenient timing, Lip sidled up to the bar and sat on the barstool on Mickey’s other side, nursing what Mickey assumed (and hoped) was a diet Coke in a beer glass.

“Hey there, Mick. And, uh, Ian.”

Ian looked up from where he was very engrossed in continuing to nuzzle the opposite side of Mickey’s neck, and glared at Lip from across Mickey’s chest.

“Go away, Lip.” Ian collapsed his head back onto Mickey’s shoulder and closed his eyes again, wrapping his arms around Mickey’s neck like a fucking boa constrictor. Mickey snaked an arm up around Ian’s back, holding him steady on the wobbly barstool.

Lip held back a laugh as he sipped his drink, then took a drag of the cigarette he was holding. “Seems like Ian’s done enough drinking to make our ancestors proud.”

Mickey took a sip of his own beer with his free hand. “Debbie made sure of that.”

Lip raised his eyebrows. “Damn. Guess we’d better keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t also have the Frank gene.”

Mickey grunted in acknowledgement, then took another sip of his beer, mostly because he didn’t know what else to say. Ian’s head shifted slightly on his shoulder— and Mickey realized he probably needed to haul Ian home ASAP, before he was even more sleepy and incoherent and unable to lug down the street.

Lip noticed Ian’s movement on Mickey’s shoulder and smirked. “I’ve gotta say, I’ve never seen Ian being this clingy before. Even with other guys—no offense, Mick— he usually stayed pretty contained. And you guys aren’t usually too into the PDA department.”

Mickey shrugged, trying not to jostle the heavy weight of where Ian’s head was hanging. Lip was right—he and Ian never really were all over each other, especially not like this, outside of the context of their room, when they were very much always all over each other.

Lip kept studying them, and the corner of his mouth eventually ticked upward. “It’s good. He’s definitely not this… comfortable with anyone else. Including me, which is definitely saying something.”

It felt weird, to get something like what felt like Lip’s full blessing at a raunchy Gallagher party months after he and Ian had gotten married—but that was also exactly what it felt like was happening.

Lip’s eyes suddenly darted across the room, to where Tami was holding up his coat and gesturing to the door. Lip rose from the barstool, stubbed out his cigarette, and put out a hand to clap Mickey on the shoulder as a goodbye.

“Catch up with you later, Mick.” Lip reached out and jokingly tousled Ian’s hair. “Make sure this one doesn’t hate himself too much tomorrow morning.”

Mickey smirked. Ian was practically asleep and drooling on his shoulder, his breathing turned steady—Mickey reached a hand up to card through his hair, then gently shrugged his shoulder to get Ian’s head to rise from where it was jammed on his neck.

Ian raised his head, his eyes bleary and confused at first, then softening around the edges when he met Mickey’s gaze.

“Alright, let’s get you home, carrottop.”

#did i read this before posting it???? nope #this is so silly but was also living RENT FREE in my brain #also this is temporally separated from the last ep lol bc i do not have it in me to write anything heavy this week #drunk happy husbands only !!!!#🙅🏻‍♂️‼️#gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless fic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #ian and mickey #ixm #gallavich fanfiction

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copias-thrall · 3 years

Note

Would it be alright to request some Papa IV x f!Reader? Like the reader is a very kind and sweet person and she has always supported Copia kind of thing? Maybe they’re having a whole day to themselves to celebrate?

Yes! Let’s get some more sweet Copia 😊

They made fun of him and called him The Rat.

Terzo made him the butt of all his pranks.

Nihil undermined him at every turn.

Imperator pushed him to the point of breaking.

What you saw a man trying to do his best with his only flaw being an outsider within the Abbey walls, and in a place where actual hellbeasts were basically demon cats, were rats such an odd choice of pet?

You were fairly certain Copia knew the “Squeak if u like cheze” sign was taped to his back, but he just walked down the corridors anyway and let the Siblings and Ghouls chitter at him. You’d seen this man save one of the Abbey mice from a glue trap, and your heart just couldn’t let it continue.

So, you’d approached him and offered to remove the offending paper.

Copia, however, had just smiled at you.

“It is good of you to say, Sister. But let them have their fun, eh?”

He’d given you a slight bow and had gone on his merry way.

After that, however, Copia had warmed to you, often seeking you out so he could sit with you in the mess hall at mealtimes or chat theology with you on lazy Saturday afternoons.

When some of Terzo’s faction had started stuttering to make fun of Copia’s shyness with public speaking, you’d tried to shut them down. Not everyone was good in front of a crowd—especially when that crowd was hostile. All that did, however, was get them to double down and start calling you, "rat lover."

“Doesn’t it bother you, Cardinal?" you'd asked during one of your food dates. "It’s so…petty.”

But he’d just given you a fond look.

“It is of no consequence, dear Sister. Let them be thinking what they will.”

You’d learned all of his rats’ names and started smuggling them contraband from the kitchens.

Copia had you transferred from Imperator’s admin pool to work as his assistant.

“All this new paperwork!” He’s swept his arm across the stacks of his desk. “I thought I could be using a little help from a friend, yes?”

You’d inherently understood you weren’t there to file paperwork—you were there to tell him when to take a break, to replace his cold coffee, and to be a sounding board.

And you didn’t miss the way Copia’s mismatched eyes would look on you with adoration.

Well, you thought he was pretty neat, too.

When he’d been away on his first tour, you’d done your best to keep up with him. You had your other duties and your friends, but you tried to send him a supportive word before, during, and after each performance.

His missives back had grown fewer as the tour had dragged on, but each one had been effusive—if riddled with typos.

After the first tour, things had been different. Copia had come back from the road a glowing success…and in a tight suit that showed off his assets instead of his smothering cassock.

The tide turned, and while there were still his many detractors, gone were the days of “kick me” signs and farces.

You’d noticed a significant pay increase and an extra day off.

“But Cardinal! You need me here!” you’d protested.

He’d simply grabbed your hands and kissed each one.

“I do. And that is why you must be well-rested. Lots to get done. Now, shoo!”

And truth be told, the two of you had worked harder. Copia had spent less and less time in his study and more time attending meetings or at band practice or at weekend symposiums. You’d done your best on keeping his mountain of paperwork down to a molehill, but sometimes the two of you needed to work late into the night to meet seemingly arbitrary deadlines while you put your foot down and told the kitchen Ghoul that making some rigatoni past hours wasn’t going to kill them.

Of course, then you needed to put your foot down about Copia stopping long enough to eat the carbonara. Sometimes he’d growl at you, and you’d have to snap your fingers at him and tell him being hangry wasn’t a good excuse to be snippy with you; he was predictably contrite after he’d consumed a good portion, and you took his apologies as your due.

All of which is to say: you had Copia’s back from the get-go, and he knew you were always in his corner.

When he comes back from Mexico newly ascended, there are dozens of Siblings who want a piece of him. Some—like you—have been in his fan club since day 1; others jumped on the bandwagon during the final tour; while a few just see the razzle dazzle and want to shine too.

You’re in his study because you want to make sure everything is caught up before he comes back to work. You imagine that he’s going to spend a few days reaping the rewards of his promotion, and—while a part of you feels a little let down about not being a part of that particular party—you are genuinely invested in Copia succeeding.

So when the door bangs open, you’re startled to find Copia…er…Papa Emeritus the 4th striding into the room.

“Oh! Your Dark Excellency! I was just making sure—”

“How did I be knowing I would find you here, eh? Today is not a day to be working!”

“But you—”

He makes a shushing noise and reaches his hands out. They linger in the air between the both of you until he makes a “come here” motion with his fingers.

Tentatively, you curl your fingers into his gloved ones.

“We are taking the day off, yes?”

“W-we?”

Copia raises an eyebrow at you. “Sí. With who else should I be celebrating?”

You blush, pleased that he seems genuinely baffled.

The March air is living up to its reputation, so Copia leads you to one of the sunniest rooms in the Abbey. There, you find a picnic blanket set up with a picturesque spread of food, and Rain helping Mountain to position a bevy of potted plants around the area.

Copia clucks at them good-naturedly to leave. Rain gives you the thumbs up and Mountain just pats you on the head as they leave. (As Copia’s Girl Friday, you’ve had to backmanage his ghoulies as much as you’ve had to organize his report piles.)

When he gestures for you to sit, you arrange yourself comfortably in a big square of sun that’s streaming in from the windows. As you take in the meats, cheeses, sandwiches, and fruits that populate the corner of the blanket, Copia putters around with a bottle of Champagne and two glasses.

The whole thing is a little unexpected, but not unwelcome, and you watch him with fondness as he utters a Whoopsie when the cork goes flying at the ceiling and as he obsesses over making each glass level.

You two clink glasses with a Salute, both taking a modest sip.

“This is lovely, Cop—uh, Papa.” He’s all smiles. “But why me?”

His eyebrows draw together, and he tilts his head at you.

“Mia cara…who else would it be?”

You blush and shrug your shoulders, looking down at your platter. When he takes your hand in his warm, leathered one, you look up and get lost in his earnest, mismatched gaze.

“You are the most important person in my life.”

His thumb strokes over your knuckles.

“You are too sweet, mia cara. Helping an old man—”

“You’re not old—”

He tsks at you.

“Helping a person I am being. At my side even when you are in the knowing.” He taps his nose and winks. “Our little conspiracy of silence, yes?”

That Copia is not quite exactly the bumbling, nutty-professor he leads the rest of the Clergy to believe he is? Yeah, obviously.

He nods.

“And yet, you are by my side. Keeping my head on straight. Because you are wanting to.”

Because you saw the way he treated his rats, his Ghouls, and even Sister Imperator. He may have a dangerous ambition, but he’s not a dangerous man.

“I believe in you Papa.”

He gives you that fond look again.

“Well. I believe in you too, Sister.”

Copia lets your hand go and claps.

“Now! Let us enjoy this feast! Next up is a movie marathon where we enjoy our food comas, yes?”

You pop a grape into your mouth.

“Of course, Papa.” You give him a devilish smile. “How ‘bout you give the schedule so I can make sure we’re on track, hm?”

He blinks at you for a moment before giving you his little rat laugh.

“Ah, eh heh heh! There is my little taskmaster.”

“What would you do without me?”

He tosses a gape and just barely catches it in his mouth.

“I wouldn’t, cara. I wouldn’t.”

#marionette-ghoulette #cardinal copia #papa iv #female reader #fluff

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whythinktoomuch · 4 years

Text

Something’s wrong.

Kara can tell the moment she steps into Andrea’s office because Andrea’s avoiding her gaze. And pacing. And fidgeting, meticulously tugging at her own fingers before dropping her hands away altogether with a sharp exhale.

Andrea was uncertain and nervous, her entire body riddled with unease, and something so clearly had to be wrong.

“What is it? What happened?” Kara hisses, her shoulders already squaring, ready to be draped by a red cape at a moment’s notice.

Andrea’s cheeks swiftly lose all color and her heart starts pattering just a tiny bit faster, but her scoff sounds just as natural as ever when she says, “Nothing happened, Kara.”

“Okay...” Kara crosses her arms, her frown unassuming though unconvinced. “Why did you call me in here then?”

A darkened scowl tugs at Andrea’s sharp features, her jaw clenching tight and determined. But the moment quickly passes without consequence, and Andrea’s shoulders eventually drop, and she draws back every so slightly. “Just... wanted to make sure you were working.”

Kara stares, bewildered. “Well, I was.”

“Good,” Andrea says flatly. “Get back to it then.”

“All right,” Kara says, her abject curiosity thoroughly unsatisfied. “I’ll go do that.”

She can feel Andrea’s stare burning a hole into her back as she leaves the office.

—

Kara notices her right away. It’s impossible not to, even with her senses slightly dulled by the pleasant buzz that could only come from consuming an exorbitant amount of Chinese food in one sitting.

The sight is unexpected, but not unwelcome, and there’s no point in trying to convince her heart otherwise. So, even though she shouldn’t, Kara can’t help herself as she bursts into Andrea’s office, her heart thundering and stuttering in her ears in equal measure.

“What are you doing here?” she demands, the question cutting through the air, sharp and splintering.

Lena barely looks up, hands still carelessly sifting through the various documents spread across Andrea’s desk, her expression somehow bored. As if she had any right to be there. To disrupt Kara’s entire life with a simple look. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Andrea’s not here,” Kara informs her coldly, and Lena just rolls her eyes so heavily, never pausing in her task. And, well, it’s unfair. “Lena, you can’t just—”

“Really?” Andrea’s clipped tone rings out as she stomps into the room. “You’re just going to show up like you—what—own the place?”

Lena flashes a smirk, her shrug small yet utterly self-satisfied. “Well, you weren’t exactly answering my calls, babe.”

Andrea’s scowl deepens considerably. “Get out.”

“Fine...” Lena sighs, tucking a small flashdrive into her pocket. “Already found what I came for anyway.”

She saunters out, but not without throwing one last look over her shoulder. A frown, apparently, for Kara’s benefit. Her eyebrow raised in such a pointed fashion that it must mean something.

It twists at Kara’s stomach, already swirling unhappily in the wake of Lena’s perfume.

Kara quickly glances back at Andrea, who was now taking her seat at her desk with a weary sigh. “Was that something important? Do you need me to get it back for you?”

“It’s fine,” Andrea says, waving her hand dismissively. “You can go too.”

Kara blinks, taken aback. “Andrea, I work for you, so if you need me to—”

“Yes! You do,” Andrea all but snaps, cutting Kara off with an icy glare. “And I’m telling you to get out of my office.”

After a prolonged, teetering moment of holding her tongue, Kara just shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re the boss,” she mutters, fastidiously reminding herself to not slam the door on her way out.

It’s been a long day of putting out literal fires all over downtown for Supergirl, and Kara’s tired, covered head to toe in soot, and in desperate need of a hot shower and a warm bed. And so, it’s only natural that she hears a bona fide emergency unfolding on her way home.

The unsavory combination of a distinct click of a hammer being pulled back and a panicked wait! has Kara hurtling straight for L-Corp without a second thought. Within seconds, she has her cape thrown up and over Andrea’s trembling form, bullets ricocheting uselessly off the heavy fabric.

Tugging Andrea close to her chest, Kara throws her cape aside in a sharp flourish, and blows out a gust of freeze breath that scatters the gunmen like veritable dominoes.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Kara can’t help but demand, her tone verging on the more exasperated side of incredulity. “Why are you snooping around Lena’s office?”

Andrea snorts. “I wasn’t snooping,” she says in a slight sneer, and the wave of whiskey hits Kara as a solid wall of sickly sweet because, oh, Andrea was so very clearly and oh so thoroughly drunk. “I was just... well, it doesn’t matter. Just let go of me.”

Kara backs off, shaking her head. “I don’t know what’s going on between you and Lena right now, but whatever it is, you need to fix it. Fast. Because it almost got you killed tonight.”

“They weren’t after me,” Andrea says, rolling her eyes. “They were after Lena. I just happened to be here, and well, collateral damage, I suppose.”

“But you would have died just the same. How are you not getting that? You could have died, Andrea, and—”

“Stop,” Andrea snaps, her eyes wild, yet terribly, terribly focused. “You don’t have to do this. I’m not some pathetic damsel in distress like your precious little Lena. I don’t need—”

The next thing Kara knew, Andrea’s staring up at her, mouth slightly agape, her delicate wrist somehow encased in Kara’s tight grasp. “Never... talk about Lena like that,” she gets out between painfully gritted teeth, and Andrea’s breath falters in a half-hearted scoff. “She’s a friend. Mine and yours, and she’s the most...”

A pained whimper tumbles from Andrea’s lips and stops Kara cold, and she promptly snatches her hand back, cheeks burning furiously in realization and shame.

Andrea rubs at her wrist, where Kara’s grip remains readily apparent, an inexcusable brand of angry pink and slight bruising. “A friend,” she repeats, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Right.”

“I’m sorry...” Kara reaches out instinctively, her heart sinking with heavy regret, but Andrea flinches away from her. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you...” She sighs and backs off even more with a ducked head. “Listen, just go home, okay? Take care of yourself.”

With one last apologetic nod, Kara grabs the pair of still unconscious, would-be assassins by their shirt collars and takes off into the air, desperately fighting off the inevitable guilt still hanging over her as she flies over to the nearest police station.

When she hears the persistent knock at her door, Kara wastes no time super-speeding out of her bed and right to the door in question. Because it’s practically four in the morning, and anyone knocking at her door at four in the morning has to be having an emergency of some sort or another.

But even so, it comes as a complete shock when Andrea ends up being the person standing on the other side of the door.

“Andrea?” Kara blinks, the exhaustion slipping off her bones as bewilderment settles in its stead. But Andrea hardly seems to notice, shoving her way into Kara’s apartment like she belongs there. “... How did you know where I live?”

“What the hell is your deal with Lena?” Andrea says, whirling around in a fury, and it’s immediately evident that she was somehow even drunker now than she had been at L-Corp. “Why are you so fucking obsessed with her anyway?”

Kara’s jaw drops in outright disbelief. “I—ex-cuse me?” she sputters out. “You show up to my house in the middle of the night to interrogate me about Lena, and I’m the one obsessed with her?”

“You’re changing the subject,” Andrea says, words sliding out of her mouth careless and slurred. “I’m just asking a simple little question, and all I need is a simple little answer, so if you would just please get—”

“It’s none of your business.”

Andrea blinks. Then blinks again. Then stares.

“It’s... none of your business how I feel about Lena,” Kara says with a defiant shrug. “Or anything about us really, okay? Just try to focus on your own issues with her, and stop making everything so messy and complicated.” She then shakes her head, sighing. “This is all highly inappropriate, by the way. You’re my boss, Andrea. You can’t be drunkenly berating me about personal matters like this. Like, at my apartment? This late?”

“So, you meant it then?” Andrea asks softly.

“Meant... what?”

“What were you going to say?” Andrea asks instead, now tugging at her sleeve, rubbing insistently at the imprint that Kara’s hand had left around her wrist. “Before you stopped yourself, what were you going to say about Lena?”

Kara’s stomach drops, the implications behind Andrea’s simple line of questioning striking her where she stands, where she lives. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about...” She goes to adjust her glasses, but her hand closes around empty air, and Kara’s already made so many mistakes today since getting out of bed this morning, and yet somehow, it seems that she’s made even more just in the last five minutes.

“Don’t be like that,” Andrea says, pressing closer, looking up at Kara so earnestly that Kara’s ears start to burn, as if in solidarity. “Just tell me.”

Kara forces a laugh, eyes darting helplessly around her sparse living room. “She’s just... really important to me, okay? Happy now?”

“Even with everything going on between you two?”

“Well, yeah. Nothing’s ever going to change how I feel about—”

Kara’s cut off as Andrea’s lips crash against hers.

All higher brain function snuffs out, and Kara freezes in place. She can barely process the firm press of Andrea’s mouth, soft lips moving against her own slowly yet insistently, the bittersweet taste of whiskey spreading across her tongue...

Then Kara grabs Andrea’s shoulders, shoving her at arm’s length with a strangled gasp. “What are you doing? You can’t—Andrea, you’re drunk!”

“I’m... not.” Andrea sighs, almost resigned, and Kara could almost laugh out of sheer incredulity. Or maybe hysteria. Perhaps both.

“Um, yes, you are. I can literally taste the whiskey off your breath,” Kara says, before abruptly coughing and shaking her head. “I mean, smell. I can smell the... you know, the whiskey...”

“No,” Andrea growls, her eyes growing sharp, alert. “I’m not... Andrea.”

Kara takes a step back, her entire face scrunching into a deeply perplexed frown.

She studies the face staring back at her. The sharp features, the pouting red lips and the jagged scar across the brow, all deeply familiar and completely at odds with the assertion that had just spilled forth from those very same lips.

But Kara wills herself to look harder, to look past the obvious, and meets the insistent gaze before her head-on. Her heart pounds painfully in her chest, somehow recognizing the eyes before her brain can even catch up.

They’re the wrong color, but it’s the very same softened expression that had accompanied the words that still drift into Kara’s awareness at the most inconvenient moments.

I know you believe that everything is good...

Kara swallows hard.

And kind...

She blinks and shakes her head, but it clears up absolutely nothing for her.

And that is one of the things I love about you.

Kara holds her breath, and dares to venture, to believe, to hope.

“... Lena?”

#well this was something #my words.

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onewithnomightypowers · 3 years

Text

clandestine (chapter 6)

PAIRING: Tom Holland x fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Y/N is an up and coming actress, married to a once hotshot actor, Harrison (Haz). What happens when her co-star, Tom, makes her realise that she is stuck in a loveless marriage. A marriage starts crumbling and a new romance stars brewing.

chapter 6: beautiful songs always end

A/N: i do not encourage cheating. i hope you guys like this chapter!! we are so near to the end. only one chapter left!!! feedback is always appreciated. thanks for reading <3

warnings: drinking, cursing, mention of pregnancy and miscarriage

word count: 1.8k

important: bold and italic are character thoughts

series masterlist main masterlist chapter 5 chapter 7

It was the first Monday of September, the beginning of an eleven-day affair, that is, TIFF. The air was slightly chilly in Toronto but full of possibilities. It was Y/N’s first time at a major film festival. Her film was to screen on the second day. The main cast and the director were invited to MTV’s opening night party. Just an ordinary girl between Hollywood’s A-listers, saying she was intimidated, was the understatement of the year.

The party was at a downtown bar. All her friends had left her alone, well, the other two people who were attending the festivities with her. The only place she could find to calm her nerves was the bar.

Two old fashions will do the trick.

She ordered both of them together, saving her the time. She was about to finish her first drink when she picked up her second, with the first glass still on her lips. Her eyes were shut with the pleasure of a burn in her throat by the whiskey.

“Easy tiger”, a grinning Harrison said, standing by her side, resting his arm on the bar counter.

She laughed in her glass, Y/N opened her eyes to see who said it.

“Oh my god, you’re Harrison. I watched your movie today, it was so good”

His ocean blue eyes really pop in that navy shirt.

His grin turned into an unadulterated smile filling his face, his cheeks turning red from the compliment. “Thanks”

Y/N picked her drink number two again, “and you might be?” Haz asked.

“I’m Y/N, enchanté”, she raised her hand to meet his.

“Are you here with a movie too?” He seemed genuinely interested.

“Yeah, I’m the lead in a little indie movie called ‘Midnight Love’”, she pinched the air, a gesture to show how small the movie was.

“No way! When can I catch it?” his excitement was noted.

“It’s screening some time tomorrow morning I guess, I’m not sure”

“Can I give you my number so that you could text me with the time of the screening? I would love to see it”

“Yeah sure”, she handed him her phone.

---

Someone had clicked a photo of Haz and Y/N kissing at Washington Square Park, and had uploaded it on the internet. Nobody really knew who Y/N was, so they dubbed her as the ‘heart throb stealer’. Haz didn’t truly realize the gravity of the situation, the situation being a toy for the media, dating a seemingly normal girl from New York.

Haz had an early call time, so he left Y/N’s apartment before she even woke up, stopping at a deli near her flat in Sunnyside, Queens. When he came out with his breakfast, he noticed that the day started early for New Yorkers too, especially those who considered selling pictures of celebrities as honest work. They were hounding for his flesh.

Maybe I should go back to Y/N’s so that they would leave me alone. No. I can’t go there, they will get to know where she lives. I can’t let her live like me, locked in a golden cage.

Later that day, Haz came around Y/N’s place in the evening. He had planned on a quick ‘get in and go’. He even had a whole speech prepared. She opened up the door. Y/N was in her sleeping shorts and a bra, with a spoon in her mouth. She was clearly not expecting any visitors.

Man, why does she always look this perfect.

Before Y/N could say anything, Haz started his speech by clearing his throat.

“Y/N, I think we should break up and before you say anything, hear me out. I live in the public eye and the opinions of people have locked me in a bird cage. I am alone in here and that is fine with me, but you dating me will be your one way ticket inside this circus. You live a normal life, you are so grounded, and you get me back to earth whenever I’m on Saturn. I love you for that, but I can’t give you the peace you deserve to live a happy, healthy life. I don’t want you ever regretting us in the future so, it is for the best that we draw all our cards”, Haz said that all while still standing in her door frame.

“No”, she turned on her heel and walked towards her melting ice cream, leaving the door open for him.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” he finally entered the house and followed her.

“Are you insane? I’m not going to fucking leave you because of some stupid bird cage you live in. There’s nothing in this world that could stop me from loving you, ever”

---

It was late at night, Y/N and Haz were lying on their new bed, exhausted from a hard weekend of labour. Moving in was no joke. Only their bedside lights were on along with Y/N’s salt lamp which she had brought from her apartment. She was reading ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’. Haz was making circles on Y/N’s stomach.

“You are distracting me”, Y/N spoke softly.

“Oh, am I now?” Haz started tickling her around her stomach.

“Harrison. Stop. Please”, she said between giggles.

“Never darling”, he travelled up to her neck.

She tried to catch his fingers with her chin, “what do you want from me?”

He stopped. Haz placed his hands on her shoulder to calm her down, locking his eye with her he said, “I want to wake up to you every morning and fall asleep to you every night”

“Well you can do that now”

“I want to do that every day for the rest of my life. Marry me, Y/N.”

---

Y/N was walking down 5th avenue, unaware of a photographer following her across the street. She rang her mother to tell her all the new developments in her life.

“Hello?” her mother answered the phone.

“Hi mum, how are you?”

“Oh hi Y/N! I’m doing fine, what about you?”

“I need to tell you something”

“What is it darling?” Y/N could hear her father in the background asking her mum whether it was Y/N she was talking to.

“Put the phone on speaker, I want to talk to you and papa both”

“Okay”, before heading underground for the subway, Y/N stopped at a small café to finish the conversation.

“Are you both here?” They hummed a yes.

Y/N took a deep breath, “I’m getting married to Harrison”

“What!?” both of them exclaimed.

“Honey you are too young to get married”, her mum said.

“If I’m old enough to do my own taxes, then I’m old enough to take this decision on my own”

“Kid, I just want to give you one piece of advice, I don’t think you should announce your engagement to the world just yet, you both haven’t been dating long enough and they already call you a gold digger”, her dad said.

“Where did you hear that?”

“On the internet”

“Dad, you shouldn’t be Google-ing your child. The internet only feeds you poison. And, lucky for you, we haven’t yet decided when to announce it”

---

Haz was stirring the sauce in the pan, next to the pot of boiling pasta. Y/N was sitting on the kitchen floor, with her back using the cabinets for support, reading a script.

“Babe, can you pass me the salt?”

Y/N carefully got up and opened the spice drawer. “There you go”

“Thanks” he took the glass jar of salt from her.

“We should watch ‘A Quiet Place’ tonight,” Haz suggested.

“No. we are going to watch ‘Letters to Juliette’.”

“Y/N, we have seen that movie a hundred times”

“Well make it hundred and one because we are watching it again, tonight”

“Why do you get to choose the movie?”

“Because I’m the pregnant wife here, Haz”, she got on her tippy toes to kiss his forehead.

---

“I want a divorce”, she whispered, loud enough to be heard.

“What?” he looked up at her with the most polarizing gaze.

He heard her. She knew that. She refused to repeat it, she thought if she did, he would win, in some weird way he would win the fiercest fight of their marriage.

“Is this what you do every night when you are not at home, with me? Stay out and drink your pettiness away?” Y/N said, pulling her hair down.

“Is this what you do every night when I’m not home, go to fancy shit with him?”

“Do not bring him into this”, she was stern.

“Come on, say it. Say his name. Say that you are in love with him”, he was poaching her.

“Fine. I love Tom, more than I ever loved you. But this is not about him. He has nothing to do with this sinking ship.” The claws were out.

“Oh honey, you punched the hole. You hurt me”, a mad man said. “You mean to say that you fucking him has nothing to do with us?”

“You should be more hurt that I had a good laugh with him”

She took the dagger out of his back and plunged it straight into his heart. He said nothing. Bleeding out on the floor, no whimpers were whispered.

“When you lost the kid, I was there for you. I took care of you” he said softly.

“Did you ever stop to ask me whether I wanted this kid or not?”

He looked at her confusingly.

“When I lost our child, I was honestly relieved”, she sat down on the floor opposite to him. “I was not ready for it but you were so joyous that I couldn’t say anything. I realized that I was so toxically in love with you, that I was ready to grow a piece of you in me, that I wanted to lose. Our love that seemed so healthy was just in shambles.”

Tears were streaming down both of their faces.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he moved forward and rubbed her knee.

“I just couldn’t” she said between sobs.

“And now you have to go. It’s okay. I get it.” He took her in his chest, letting Y/N cry her heart out.

“Hey, just like Passenger sang, ‘you’ll only know you love her if you let her go” he tried to be funny for her. And it worked. Y/N scuffed out air, a sad attempt to laugh.

“I will always care for you, Haz”, she looked him in the eyes, the stream of tears never stopping.

“I know”, a deep sigh heard. “I know, I know.” He said stroking her cheek.

@mysticapples17 @storybookholland @flqwsome @hollandstanevans

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #marvel #marvel fanfiction #harrison osterfeild x reader #harrison osterfield #spiderman x you #spiderman x reader #spiderman #spider man #spiderman x y/n #taylor swift

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nagitoandkokichioneshots · 3 years

Text

Dance with me - Komaeda x Reader

Hey all, Peko here! Just a little thing i wrote about dancing with Komaeda on the beach. Not heaps of substance here or anything, i’ve just been a little stressed lately and wanted to write something cute and fluffy! I hope you enjoy it! ☆〜 Mod Peko

Contains: gn reader, canon murder mention, post killing game, alcohol (only a little)

There is something deeply morbid about Togami’s decision to host a party in the same building he was murdered in. With the rest of the islands inaccessible until Souda manages to get a boat fixed, there aren’t many other venues available, but this fact doesn’t make standing in the old building any less uncomfortable.

Everyone is doing their best to keep the mood light, but anytime the air conditioner beeps the room turns icy. The table in the back right of the room has been disassembled and thrown into the dumpster behind the Rocketpunch Market, and despite the inconvenience, Hanamura decided to cook all of the food in the dining hall and cart it over instead of stepping back into the old kitchen.

While he has been trying to have a good time, you caught Hinata bending down and checking under all of the tables before everyone had arrived. Since leaving the simulation, he had almost unintentionally asserted himself as the leader of the group. Shoulders square, back stiff, you can tell he hasn’t been sleeping.

You are standing by the wall, sipping absentmindedly on a gin and tonic with too much gin. It’s bitter. There’s a spot on the wall across from you that you can’t pull your eyes from, a spot that in a different reality was inhabited by Nagito Komaeda. Half a foot to the right of a powerpoint, nothing is plugged into it.

Komaeda is not at the party. He’s the only one who isn’t.

You down the rest of your drink and make your way over to the door, resting your empty glass on the nearest flat surface. Koizumi grabs you by the wrist before you can escape, her brows are drawn, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You pause, “I just don’t like parties.”

That is partly true, Mioda’s playlist is very loud and you get headaches easily.

Koizumi sighs, “I know that it’s not simple, getting back to normal after everything that happened.” She rests a hand on your shoulder, “You can tell us if something is wrong.”

Your eyes flit over to the Komaeda shaped absence on the wall, “I’m going to find Komaeda.”

“Oh?” Koizumi says, eyebrows jumping up, “Well...good luck.” She steps to the side and gestures for you to continue through the door, “It’ll be nice if you can convince him to come.”

You smile, “I’ll try.”

The real island is a lot warmer than the digital one was. Even at night you can feel the warmth of the absent sun seeping up through the pavement, it’s kind of weird being out this late. You had been so used to cowering inside your cabin the second the sun went down, but now things were safe. They were still awkward and messy, but they were safe.

It doesn’t take you long to find Komaeda. He’s out on the beach, jacket laid out on the ground as he lays back on it and stares up at the stars. He turns his head when he hears you coming, it’s hard to be quiet on the sand.

“Oh, hello.” He says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect anyone to come by here. I hope I didn’t ruin your walk.”

You join him on the sand, curling your arms around your knees and looking out at the ocean, “I came to find you. You didn’t ruin anything.”

“Does Hinata need me for something?”

“No...I just…” you sigh and bury your head in your knees, “I just wanted to check that you were okay…”

Komaeda laughs, tucking his arms behind his head. He looks beautiful in the moonlight, “Aha, that’s very kind of you, but there’s no reason to worry about me.”

“Yeah, well...I worry anyway.”

The sound of the waves crashing is only slightly louder than the sound of the music from the party. The hotel is quite a ways away, but Mioda likes her music loud. Komaeda is still staring up at the sky, face neutral as he watches the stars, the light of the moon cross his pale face. You feel your stomach twisting.

Komaeda died before you could tell him you were in love with him.

You turn from the ocean to watch the rise and fall of his chest, being given a second chance is both a blessing and a curse. Without the impending doom of the killing game, you are even less inclined to rush things, but the buzz of five gin and tonics is making your hands shake. You almost feel like you’re going to throw up when your mouth opens and you say, “you wanna dance?”

Komaeda turns to you, “hm?”

“I uh...I asked if you wanted to dance?”

He blinks, his eyelashes are very pretty, “Oh. Why would you want to dance with me?” He rolls onto his side to face you more easily, his hair is a perfect mess, “I’ve never tried before, I suspect I’ll be terrible at it.”

You shrug, “it’s a party. Dancing is what you do at parties, right?”

The sand shifts beneath your feet as you pull yourself up, you hold your hand out, worried that it might be sweaty, “I haven’t really danced before either. We can figure it out together.”

His hand is...hesitant, as it reaches out to grab yours. You smile and gently tug him up from the ground, he sways like a palm tree in the breeze. Your heart is racing.

“So…” He starts, laughing a little to himself, “What do we do?”

You swallow, “Oh...well...I think you put one hand here-” you tug one of his hands down to the curve of your waist. Sucking in a breath at the warmth of his palm, “-and uh...i put a hand here-” you reach up and rest your hand on his shoulder, “and then we just...you know…” you take his other hand in yours and hold it up, gently swaying.

(If you weren't so focussed on Komaeda. You might have noticed Mioda’s playlist has shifted to something softer, more romantic. Entirely out of character, and incredibly lucky.)

The steps are awkward, and entirely unpracticed, but it feels nice. The ocean air is cool on your skin, and Komaeda is warm. He’s staring down at you intently, trying his best to follow your poor imitation of a waltz. He smiles, “Are you sure you aren't the ultimate dancer?”

You laugh, “Very. You’re just lucky I haven't stepped on your toes.”

Komaeda grins, “Extremely lucky.”

The two of you continue swaying in silence for a while longer. Komaeda has a moment of boldness where he lifts up his arm and coaxes you into a spin, all you can do is smile.

“Why didn't you come to the party?” You ask, looping your arm around the back of his neck, “It was...weird not having you there.”

He hums, brow drawing in thought, “It was fairly clear nobody wanted me to come. I didn't want to be a nuisance.”

“Well, i wanted you to come. So did Koizumi.” You sigh, “You’re one of us, Komaeda. It isn’t the same without you.”

Komaeda smiles sadly, averting his eyes, you can feel his confidence in the dance dropping, “I may have been a member of your class, and of the remnants of despair, but I still can't hold a candle to the hope inside any of you.”

He is so close to you now, you can feel his chest rising and falling. You can count his eyelashes. It’s impossible to breathe, “Hey...um…”

“Yes?”

You readjust the grip of your hands, slipping your fingers between his, you can see his throat bob. Your heart is racing, “I think you are just as important as the rest of us, that you belong with the rest of us.” you smile up at him, feeling your cheeks turning pink, “and I like dancing with you.”

“I’m not sure why.” He replies, eyes cast downward.

You laugh gently, feeling bolder as you lean in and rest your head on his chest. He smells like fresh laundry and jasmine. You can hear his heartbeat quicken, but yours is even faster, “because I like you.”

He stops moving, the dance pauses mid step. His hands are shaking.

You raise your head to meet his eyes, your hand slowly tangling in his hair. His arm slowly curling around your waist, “what’s happening…?” He whispers, you can feel his breath on your face.

“I think we’re going to kiss.” You swallow, “I mean...if you want to.”

“I...of course I want to.” His hand releases yours, lifting up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your lower lip, “but you’re so amazing, I don’t understand why you-“

He’s cut off, you grab the front of his shirt and tug his lips down to yours before he can continue into a self-deprecating spiral. For a moment he is frozen still, but your heart warms like butter when he moans into your mouth and kisses you back in earnest. His hand burying into your hair. He feels perfect.

He’s breathing heavy when you pull away, pressing his forehead against yours, “you...love me?”

You smile, warm tears rolling down your cheeks, “yes, I have for a long time.”

Komaeda laughs, but it almost sounds like a sob, “I’ve...I’ve always wanted someone to love me...I didn’t think...I couldn’t…”

“Shh.” You whisper, standing up on your toes to kiss his temple, “do you want to go back to the party?”

He smiles and links his fingers with yours again, “Can we stay like this a little bit longer?”

You can't help but grin as you slip back into the abandoned dance, spinning and twirling, slowly and messily. You press your lips to his, “As long as you want to.”

#komaeda x reader #nagito x reader #komaeda nagito #nagito komaeda #mod peko #Mod Peko Pekoyama #peko writes

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discoscoob · 3 years

Text

Praise Him | Loki x Female Reader

Loki (Marvel) x Doctor Who

Getting tired of the tension on his ship, the Doctor threatens to take you all home if you don’t go on an adventure with him but the TARDIS gets thrown off course and you end up trapped in a hotel where the personal fears and bad dreams of every visitor are hidden behind each room.

Part Twelve | Part Fourteen | Chapter Index

Words: 8.8k

Warnings: death and angst

Read on AO3

A few days had passed since your argument with your auntie and you had spent the whole time avoiding her. Loki knew all the perfect places to hide in the TARDIS, which he had found when he was avoiding you after the Dark Ages. The pair of you had been enjoying each other’s company completely undisturbed, until the Doctor grew tired of the tension on his ship and called an intervention in the control room.

“This can’t go on any longer. I am taking you all on an adventure.” The Doctor had said once he managed to gather you all together.

“Thanks but I’d rather not.” You attempted to decline, you didn’t mean to sound rude towards the Doctor, you realised he was only trying to help and you appreciated that, however you couldn’t pretend everything was okay while Donna kept scowling in Loki’s direction the whole time.

“You can all either come on this trip with me or I can take you all back home right now, your choice.” The Doctor shocked all three of you with an ultimatum, knowing none of you would want to give up the freedom of space and time travel and return to your mundane lives.

The Doctor also knew that you had to consider your relationship with Loki, where would the Doctor take him, what was ‘home’ to Loki? Would he return him to Asgard or would he take him back to Earth with you? Technically he was still on the run from the TVA and staying put on one planet would likely only make it easier for them to track him down. You knew you couldn’t risk getting separated from Loki just to avoid the awkward tension with your auntie.

“You can’t do that!” Donna argued against the Doctors ultimatum.

“She’s right, it’s not fair.” Loki agreed with Donna who scowled at him as soon as he spoke up.

“I can. This is my ship and I can decide whether or not I will allow you to stay on it.” The Doctor threatened to display just how serious he was, practically daring any one of you to call his bluff. “So what will it be? An adventure or home?”

“Fine.” You were the first to yield, Loki and Donna looked at you with surprise but they knew that going home wasn’t an option. “We’ll go on an adventure.”

“Brilliant!” The Doctor celebrated his small victory with himself, “this might be exactly what you all need.” He optimistically assured the three of you as he pulled down the handbrake and sent the TARDIS into turbulent flight.

***

You all leaned over the brown wooden bannister of a red carpeted stairwell to look up and down at the many floors above and below you, the distinct scent of a hotel filled the air. So far your interest hadn’t been spiked and from the looks of it, neither had Loki’s or Donna’s as they wondered what sort of adventure could have been found on a seemingly abandoned hotel on Earth.

The only one who seemed excited was the Doctor, who enthusiastically bounced up the stairs with a wide smile on his face, but it didn’t usually take much to impress the Doctor.

“This could be the most exciting thing I have ever seen!” He said with genuine delight and you thought even that was a bit of an overreaction even for the Doctor, as he ran almost two flights above you.

“What’s exciting about an empty hotel on Earth that looks like it has a three star trip advisor rating at the most.” You asked, already wondering if you could call it a day and return to the TARDIS.

“Because, my friends, this is not Earth.” The Doctor told you as he leaned over the bannister above you all. “This has just been made to look like Earth. The craftsmanship involved... can you imagine?”

He ran back down the stairs towards you, now he had managed to grab your interest as you all wondered where you actually were.

“Then where are we?” Loki asked as the Doctor ran passed you all and you automatically followed after him, you were stood in front of the TARDIS which stood between two rows of stairs on the stairwell, against a wall.

“I don’t know, something must have yanked us off course.” The Doctor vaguely answered. “Look at the detail on that cheese plant!” He gasped as he stroked and sniffed the leaves.

“Why would someone mock up an Earth hotel?” Donna asked.

“Colonists perhaps,” the Doctor suggested as he turned back around to face you all. “Trying to recreate a home away from home, like when ex-pats open English pubs in Majorca. Whoever did this I am shaking their hand or tentacle or paw or... fin.” The Doctor trailed off.

“Have you seen these?” Loki spoke, drawing your attention to a bunch of framed portraits which were neatly lined along the walls above, below and alongside each other in thin gold frames.

“Look at the labels underneath. Commander Halke, defeat. Tim Heath, having his photo taken. Lady Silver-Tear... Daleks, I hope there aren’t any of those here.”

“You have encountered Daleks?” The Doctor looked at Loki with interest.

“Not personally, but they’re always attempting to invade the nine realms.” Loki answered while you and Donna kept looking at the portraits and reading the labels.

“What do they mean?” You wondered out loud.

“I don’t know. Let’s find out!” The Doctor was already running away in search of the lobby before anyone could ask anything else.

When you reached the abandoned reception desk of the hotel lobby, you could hear elevator music quietly playing on repeat and the Doctor hit the gold service bell, immediately giving you flashbacks to the TVA and when you looked around you realised the hotel had a strikingly similar dated decor.

You screamed and jumped back with fright when two strangers leaped out from around the corner with a battle cry. One of them, a woman dressed in blue hospital scrubs, swung a broken off chair leg at the Doctor, who managed to duck out the way just in time. The other one, a man with a head of messy curls and wearing thin silver framed square glasses, held a lamp upside down and waved it around wildly in front of him.

“What was that for?!” The Doctor cried as he moved behind your auntie for protection, while Loki was already pulling you behind him.

“Blimey, chill out!” Donna shouted at them.

“Why are you swinging about a chair leg?” The Doctor shouted from over Donna’s shoulder.

“Who are you?!” The woman in scrubs demanded.

“We’re back in reception.” The man next to her commented and you noticed the way his voice trembled as he looked around with wide eyes and you suddenly felt very uneasy.

The woman in the scrubs hesitantly stepped towards all of you and looked at each of you in the eyes.

“Rita, be careful, yeah.” The man told her.

“Their pupils are dilated. They’re as surprised as we are. Besides which, if it’s a trick, it’ll tell us something.” Rita told the man as she returned to his side.

“I’m the Doctor,” he said as he calmly stepped around Donna, “these are my friends,” he extended his arm towards the three of you and introduced each of you by your names.

“You with the glasses-“ The Doctor approached the curly haired man.

“Howie.” He introduced himself.

“You sounded surprised to be back in reception. Why?” The Doctor ask.

“The walls move, everything changes.” Howie answered.

“The corridors twist and stretch, rooms vanish and pop up somewhere else. It’s like the hotel’s alive.” Rita continued.

“That’s quite enough of that.” The Doctor stepped towards the old radio and flicked the switch to turn off the repetitive elevator music.

“And it’s like huge, with, like, no way out.” Howie added.

“Have you tried the front door?” You asked.

“No, in two days it never occurred to us to try the front door. Thank god you’re here!” Rita sarcastically answered and you frowned.

“Right. That’s not good.” You heard the Doctor say and you looked in his direction to find he had pulled the front doors open only to reveal a white brick wall completely blocking the exit. He walked over to a pair of shut curtains and pulled them open to reveal no window just another brick wall. “Definitely not good.”

“It’s not just that. The rooms have... things in them.” Rita explained.

“Things? What sort of things?” The Doctor asked.

“Bad dreams.” Rita answered hesitantly, almost like she was certain he wouldn’t believe her.

“Doctor, I think we should leave.” Loki suggested.

“I already told you, there’s no way out.” Rita reminded him.

“We have a ship.” Loki smugly smiled.

“Wait, how did you two get here, then?” The Doctor asks the pair.

“I don’t know, I just started my shift. I must’ve passed out, because suddenly I was here.” Rita answered.

“I was blogging, next thing, this.” Howie said.

“So people are being snatched from their lives and dropped into an endless, shifting maze that looks like a 1980s hotel with bad dreams in the bedroom.” The Doctor concluded.

“But you have a ship, we can finally leave.” Howie pointed out, sounding relieved.

“Yes we do, follow me.” The Doctor once again sped off back towards the TARDIS and the rest of you rushed behind to keep up. “We’ll all get into the TARDIS, I’ll do a planet-wide diagnostic sweep and then I’ll return you back safely to the exact moments you got snatched away...”

The Doctors voice trailed off as he stopped in his tracks in front of an empty space where the TARDIS once stood. He held his arms out and felt around like he was checking it hadn’t somehow turned invisible but you could tell there was absolutely nothing there.

“Don’t tell me the TARDIS has gone.” Donna sighed.

“Okay.” The Doctor muttered, still stunned.

“Where is it then?” She asked.

“You told me not to tell you.” The Doctor turned around looking genuinely confused.

“Don’t get clever with me.” She warned him.

“What’s a TARDIS?” Howie asked.

“Our way out. And it’s gone.” Loki groaned.

Suddenly you heard the elevator music from the lobby begin playing again by itself and the uneasy feeling spread deeper through your chest.

“Okay. We all just need to remain calm.”

The Doctor could sense how you were all on edge, “Rita, are there anymore of you?”

She glanced at Howie and down the stairwell before she looked back at the Doctor, “Joe, but he’s tied up right now.”

“Doing what?” The Doctor asked.

“No, I mean he’s... literally tied up.” She clarified.

***

You all slowly entered a large room, one by one, that was filled with round tables covered in white cloths. Around each table, there sat identical creepy ventriloquist dummies, their chins lifted up and down as they all laughed.

Once you all entered the room, their laughter subsided, leaving you in complete silence. Slowly their heads began to turn by themselves, as they followed you with their large, vacant, painted on eyes.

You felt as though you had been dumped straight in the centre of a horror story, the eerie atmosphere of the room sent dreadful shivers through your spine and quickened your heart rate.

Loki had immediately sensed your trepidation and secured his arm around you as a form of comfort as he whispered in your ear reassurances that they were just puppets and could not hurt you and he would keep you safe. You had leaned into Loki’s hold in pursuit for more of his comfort.

Neither of you had noticed the way your auntie was observing your interaction from behind the pair of you, for once she wasn’t looking at you with judgement but with contemplation instead, Loki’s behaviour seemed natural and genuine, she still didn’t trust him but she appreciated the way Loki had managed to sooth you.

In the centre of the room, a dazed man sat at one of the tables, with rope across his chest which restrained him to his chair. He stared blankly ahead, as if he hadn’t even noticed anyone enter the room, as the Doctor tentatively approached him.

“Hello. I’m the Doctor.” He introduced himself.

“You’re going to die here.” Joe answered bluntly.

“Well, they certainly didn’t mention that in the brochure.” The Doctor muttered. “Is Joe there? Can I have a quick word?”

“Oh it’s still me, Doctor, but I’ve seen the light. I lived a blasphemous life, but he has forgiven my inconstancy, and soon he shall... feast.” The way Joe spoke reignited the shivers down your spine.

“You’ve been here two days, what’s he waiting for?” The Doctor asked as he pulled out one of the chairs and sat opposite Joe.

“We weren’t ready. We were still raw.” Joe smiled.

“And now you’re what? Cooked?” The Doctor guessed.

“If you like. Soon you will be, too. Be patient. First, find your room. There’s a room here for everyone.” His eyes shifted over to you, as did the dolls heads and you shuffled closer into Loki’s side.

“Nothing else matters anymore. Only him. It’s like these things.” Joe looked around at the puppets which surrounded each table. “I used to hate them! They make me laugh now.” Joe began laughing to himself.

“Gottle o’ geer! Gottle o’ geer!” Joe cheered as his laughter increased and the dummies began joining in again, their slack jaws chattering up and down.

“You should go. He’ll be here soon.” Joe told the Doctor.

***

You had all returned to the reception, the Doctor had managed to find a stack barrow, to wheel Joe around in while keeping him tied to his chair as the Doctor went over his plan.

“First, we find the TARDIS. Quick thing before we go. If you feel drawn to a particular room, do not go in, and make sure someone else can see you at all times.” The Doctor instructed.

You ended up searching through the hallways of the hotel, they were decorated with a red floral carpet and white floral wallpaper, all the numbered doors to the different rooms were white and between each door there was a wall lamp, which kept the hallways bright, since there were no windows to let in any natural light.

You and Loki walked side by side at the back of the group, Rita was pushing Joe in the stack barrow, by now he had some duct tape over his mouth to quiet his nonsensical ramblings. The Doctor lead the group at the front and Howie was muttering to Donna about his theory on how whole thing was a conspiracy, she didn’t appear convinced but she just smiled and nodded before she stepped on ahead to walk beside the Doctor.

You suddenly heard a school bell ring as a man stepped out of one of the rooms in front of the Doctor, dressed in a white vest and white shorts with a whistle around his neck.

“Hello?” The Doctor spoke.

“Have you forgotten your P.E. kit again?” The man yelled, the Doctor had no answer as he glanced around in confusion. “Right, that’s it, you’re doing it in your pants!”

With that the man stormed back into his room and slammed the door behind him, the Doctor looked around at all of you in silence and you realised that must’ve been someone else’s bad dream.

“Hey! Don’t!” The Doctor shouted as he ran past you and Loki, you both jumped out the way and watched as Howie opened one of the doors to a room before the Doctor could reach him.

Once the door swung open you heard the sound of girls laughter.

“Oh look girls, it’s H-H-Howie.” You heard one of them tease, causing the others to burst into giggles.

“What’s “loser” in K-K-K-Klingon?” Another added encouraging another round of laughs.

“Shut the... d-d... the- the door!” Howie told the Doctor as he began backing away and the Doctor quickly slammed it shut as Howie stood behind him, nervously pulling the sleeves of his striped hoodie over his hands. “This is just some... m-m-messed up CIA b-b-bullshit, I’m- I’m telling you.”

“You’re right, keep telling yourself that. It’s a CIA thing, nothing more.” The Doctor told Howie as he put an arm over his shoulder and encouraged him to keep walking down the corridor and you all continued to quietly follow.

You felt as though you were walking around in circles as every hallway looked exactly the same, the same carpet, the same wallpaper, the same wall lamps and doors. There were no signs which told you what floor you were on, the only thing which was different was the numbers on the front of each of the doors.

There was a dip in the ceiling, which ran along the top of the corridor, it looked like a beam, the Doctor ran his finger over it to trace some large scratch marks that had been left behind. While Donna stopped and bent down to pick up some small notebook sized pieces of paper which she had found on the floor. You glanced over her shoulder to look at the words scribbled in pencil which were written over it.

Loki had fallen to the back of the group and he slowed as he passed one of the doors, until he was stood in front of it. Everything in him was screaming at him to walk away but he couldn’t, it was as if he were stuck, as the urge to open the door before him overpowered him.

Hesitantly he lifted his hand, which had begun shaking, to the doorknob. He was overwhelmingly curious about what his bad dream might be, many nights he had been plagued with nightmares of being back at the sanctuary, tortured by The Other. He wondered if that’s what was waiting for him behind his door, or perhaps it was Thanos himself, come to kill him just like in the projection the TVA had shown him.

No one noticed as Loki pushed his door open and peaked inside his room, to find the last thing he expected, it was empty. Apart from two single beds against the wall, a table between them with a lamp on top of it, much like a normal hotel room, there was nothing. Loki drew his brows together, he wasn’t sure whether he should’ve been relieved or worried.

Loki retreated and stepped back into the hallway, as he gently pulled the door back shut he glanced at the number on the front of it to find it was room 13 and he narrowed his eyes.

You had turned around just in time to see him with his hand on the doorknob and you called his name as you ran towards him.

“Loki, don’t go in there!” You grabbed his arm and dragged him away from the door.

“It’s too late.” Loki mumbled as his eyes remained on the door and you put both your hands on the sides of his face to force him to look at you.

“What did you see?” You asked him and he slightly shook his head.

“Nothing.”

“It’s okay, you can tell me.” You encouraged him, believing he was trying to protect you.

“No, I’m not lying... there- there was nothing.” Loki told you, you could see the genuine confusion in his eyes and you realised he was telling the truth.

A sudden growl grabbed everyone’s attention, it was a low and thunderous sound that could only come from a dangerous beast. Joe began squirming in his chair as he tried to break free from his restraints as the growling grew closer.

“Okay, whatever that is, it’s not real, yeah?” Donna asked the Doctor.

“No, no, I’m sure it isn’t,” you heard him assure her, yet the way he was backing away betrayed him, “but just in case, let’s run away and hide anyway, in here.”

The Doctor encouraged you all to pile into one of the rooms, some of you got separated, while you, Loki, Donna and the Doctor entered one room, Rita and Howie ran into another, abandoning Joe in the middle of the hallway.

When you looked into the room, you saw two stone statues of angels with their faces hidden behind their hands as if they were crying.

“Oh god. Okay, whatever you do. Don’t blink.” The Doctor ordered you all as he stared with wide eyes at the stone statues in front of him.

“Why not?” You dared to ask.

“They’re Weeping Angels, they can only move when they’re not being observed, a single touch from one of them will make you disappear forever.” The Doctor quickly explained to you and your eyes began to burn as you stared at the stone sculptures in front of you.

The light of the room began flickering off and on, every time the room was plunged into completely darkness the light came back on to reveal the angels had moved closer. Now they had removed their hands from their face as they reached out for you with their mouths open wide to reveal sharp teeth.

Your pulse raced as you backed yourself up against the wall each time they came closer, you wanted to scream but you were too frightened, your eyes watered from the sting of forcing them open too long and you clung on impossibly tight to Loki’s arm.

“Why haven’t they got us yet?” The Doctor asked once the angels stopped coming any closer.

The Doctor bravely stepped forward, while the rest of you remained against the wall.

“Doctor, be careful.” Donna warned him, as he reached his hand out towards the stone angel but once he touched it, nothing happened and the Doctor sighed with relief.

“They’re not real. They would’ve got us by now. They’re not real. Just someone’s bad dream.” The Doctor turned around to assure you all and each of you slumped against the wall in unison, as you let your eyes finally fall shut, you wiped away the moisture that fell from your tear ducts, as your eyes watered heavily to replenish their irritated and dried surface.

From the hallway you could hear the growls grow closer, as they were accompanied by heavy footsteps. On the floor, where light from the hallway leaked through the gap of the door, you saw the shadows of the beasts legs as it stomped past. You held your breath as you tightly closed your eyes and you felt Loki’s arms tighten around you.

The Doctor quietly stepped up to the door and spied through the peephole, but quickly jumped back when the beast banged against the door from the other side.

“Oh dear.” He glanced nervously at the rest of you before he returned to the door to take another glance through the peephole. “I think it’s going after Joe.”

He watched as Joe managed to struggle free from the ties which bound him to the chair, as he stood and held his arms out wide at his sides, with a large smile on his face.

“Come to me. Come to me.” He welcomed the beast. “Praise him.”

Suddenly it fell silent and you all glanced at each other, wondering if it was safe to leave the room yet. The Doctor was the first one to step out of the room as he looked up and down the empty hallway, the only thing left behind was the chair, the stack barrow and the ties which were left discarded on the floor. The Doctor looked to the top of the hallway just in time, to see Joes legs disappear behind the corner, as the beast dragged him away.

“Leave him alone!” The Doctor shouted as he ran after him. As you all ran out the room after him, Rita and Howie emerged from the room they had hidden in.

Once you all turned the corner, you found the Doctor crouching beside Joe, who was perched in a kneeling position against the wall, his head lulled lifelessly and his vacant eyes stared at nothing, as the Doctor patted at his cheek. The look on the Doctors face as he solemnly glanced back up at all of you, told you everything you needed to know.

***

The Doctor and Loki had managed to carry Joe’s body to one of the hotel’s bars, where they rested him on the floor and covered him with a white cloth from one of the tables, while you and Donna wedged chairs underneath the handles of all the doors in an attempt to stop anything from getting into the bar where you sought refuge.

The only sound that filled the room was the ear piercing whistle of an old kettle coming to a boil, as Rita made cups of tea for you all and Howie quietly sat at one of the tables by himself.

“What exactly happened to him?” Rita asked the Doctor as she approached him with two cups of tea in her hand, one of which she handed to him.

From where you sat on a nearby table, next to Loki, you listened in on their conversation.

“He died.” The Doctor answered plainly as he held his mug full of tea in front of him.

“You are a medical Doctor, aren’t you?” Rita checked, “you haven’t just got a degree in cheese-making or something.”

“No! Well, yes, both, actually.” The Doctor answered. “I mean, there is no cause, all his vital organs simply stopped, as if the simple spark of life, his loves and hates, his faiths and fears were just... taken.”

“So you believe this to be a fake alien hotel?” Rita pointed out. “I heard you talking when you arrived.” She confessed after the Doctor silently tilted his head, wondering how she knew that. “Look, it’s no more ridiculous than Howie’s CIA theory or mi... or mine.”

“Which is?”

“This is Jahannam.” She stated.

“You’re a muslim? You think this is hell?” The Doctor asked curiously and Rita nodded.

“The whole ‘80s hotel thing took me by surprise, though.” She added.

“All these fears and phobias wondering about, most are completely unconnected to us, so why are they still here?” He asked her as if she had the answers.

“Maybe the cleaners have gone on strike.” She joked which made the Doctor laugh.

“I like you, you’re a right clever clogs. But this isn’t hell, Rita.” The Doctor told her.

“You don’t understand, I say that without fear. Jahannam will play its tricks, and there’ll be times when I want to run and scream, but I’ve tried to live a good life and that knowledge keeps me sane, despite the monsters and the bonkers rooms.” She explained before Donna approached the Doctor, holding in her hand the pieces of paper she found on the floor earlier.

“Doctor, look at this. I found it in a corridor, I forgot I had it.” Donna told him as she handed over the pages to him. The Doctor took them in his hands and leaned against the table you and Loki were sat at as he read the scribbled writing on the paper out loud.

My name is Lucy Hayward and I’m the last one left. It took Luke first. It got him on his first day, almost as soon as he arrived. It’s funny, you don’t know what’s going to be in your room until you see it, then you realise it could have never been anything else. I just saw mine. It was a gorilla from a book I’d read as a kid. My god that thing used to terrify me. The gaps between my worships are getting shorter, like contractions. This is what happened to the others... and how lucky they were. It’s all so clear now. I’m so happy. Praise him.

“Praise him.” Howie repeated from where he was sat, grabbing everyone’s attention.

“What did you just say?” The Doctor asked.

“Nothing...” Howie innocently answered before he looked like he was fighting against himself as the words rose to his tongue. “Praise him.” He said again before he slapped his own hand over his mouth.

“This is what happened to Joe.” Rita told you all, as Howie rose from his chair and began to pace back and forth.

“God, it’s going to come for me now.” He worriedly muttered to himself.

“I won’t leave you, I promise, you have my word.” The Doctor swore to him.

“I don’t want to get eaten!” Howie grew more anxious.

“Howie, calm down.” Rita tried to tell him.

“He’s going to lead the beast right here.” Loki said.

All their voices jumbled together as the spoke over one another, before the Doctor raised his sonic screwdriver in the air and it emitted a shrill sound which rung through your ears, you quickly covered them with your palms and everyone fell silent.

“Thank you.” The Doctor said once everyone had stopped talking.

“Don’t you see? He will lead the monster right here!” Loki was the first to speak.

“What do you suggest?” Rita turned to him and Loki silently looked around at everyone, until his eyes fell on you.

“We have to keep ourselves safe and find the TARDIS,” he told the room, “tragic though it might be, now is not the time for sentiment. The beast is coming for Howie and if we all remain here it might take us too.”

“Of course you’re thinking about yourself.” Donna snidely commented.

“I’m thinking about the safety of your niece, actually.” Loki corrected her and she frowned regretfully.

“It’s okay, I’ll stay with Howie. You take the others and go.” Rita offered.

“No. We stay together.” The Doctor said with finality. “Howie, any second now, it’s going to possess you again. When it does, I’m going to ask you some questions. Please try to answer them.”

The Doctor sat Howie down at one of the tables and you all sat down opposite him. The Doctor tapped his fingers on the surface of the table as he waited for the possession to wash over Howie again. You noticed it seemed to have come over him when his eyes widened and he gasped in a breath of air.

The edge of Howie’s lips lifted into a smile and he raised his large brown eyes to look at you all from under his dark eyebrows, the sinister look unsettled you.

“Howie, you’re next! We’re all so jealous, so tell us... How do we get a piece of the action? Why isn’t he possessing all of us?” The Doctor baited him.

“You guys have got all these distractions, all these obstacles. It’d be so much easier if you just it let go, you know, clear the path.” Howie explained, his demeanour completely changed, he became lucid and relaxed.

“You want it to find you? Even though you know what it’s going to do?” You asked.

“Are you kidding?” Howie asked you directly. “He’s going to kill us all! How cool is that?!”

The Doctor abruptly stood up and you did too, followed by Loki and then Donna and Rita as you huddled into a group with your backs turned to Howie.

“It’s as I thought. It feeds on fear.” The Doctor whispered. “Everything, the rooms, Lucy’s note, even the pictures in reception, has been put here to frighten us. So we have to resist it. Do whatever you have to, cross your fingers, say a prayer, think of a basket of kittens, but do not give in to the fear.” He instructed.

“Guys... where’s Howie?” Rita asked and you all turned around and looked at the empty chair where he was once sat.

“My master, my lord. I’m here! Bring me death!” You heard Howie’s voice faintly cry from the stairwell.

“No!” The Doctor yelled as he ran out the exit of the bar, in search for Howie, Donna and Rita followed after him and you followed after them, ignoring Loki who called after you.

Somehow you all got separated as you ran through the corridors in search for Howie and each other. Rita had said that the corridors twisted and stretched, it likely did this on purpose. You found yourself alone in one of the empty hallways, the door at the end of it called to you. Number 7. Without moving the wall slid closer to you, until all you had to do was reach out your hand and turn the doorknob to find out what awaited you.

You know you shouldn’t have, you really tried not to, but you couldn’t help yourself as you slowly pushed open your door and glanced at what was inside.

Your eyes widened when on the edge of the bed you saw a dark figure, the only light in the room was the one which leaked through from the hallway, but you recognised it immediately. The figure haunted your dreams often as a child, it became less frequent as you grew older until you had forgotten about it completely. The nightmares used to petrify you, often you would wake in the middle of the night screaming and your mother would have to come running into your bedroom to comfort you and tell you it was just a bad dream.

You yelped when you felt someone yank you away from the door, before they slammed it shut.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Rita told you. “What did you see?”

“Nothing.” You said defensively, you didn’t want to explain it, “I didn’t see anything.”

Rita could easily tell that you were lying, but she didn’t call you out on it, respecting the fact you didn’t wish to share your bad dream.

“Come on.” She urged you, taking you to find everyone else.

As you ran through the endless maze of corridors, you eventually ran into Donna, all three of you remained together until you turned down a corridor and found the Doctor standing in front of Howie’s body which was presented in a kneeling position against the wall, just like Joe’s had been.

The Doctor silently stared back at the three of you, regret evident in his eyes at the fact he was unable to save his life. Just as you began to wonder where Loki was, he appeared at the other end of the hallway, as soon as you saw him you rushed towards him. He pulled you into his arms without hesitation and planted a chaste kiss on the top of your head.

***

The Doctor was walking up the stairwell, having just returned from the bar where he and Loki had placed Howie’s body alongside Joe’s and put another white table cloth over him. He had decided he needed to go for a walk, he was beginning to feel the pressure of time running out and if he didn’t come up with a plan soon he was going to lose all of you.

As he walked up the stairwell, he ran into Rita, who was walking in the opposite direction.

“Rita! How are you?” He greeted her, “not panicking, are you?”

She shook her head.

“Good. That’s very good. Because I’m on the verge of getting us out of here.” He assured her, despite the fact he wasn’t entirely certain if he actually was.

“Why is it up to you to save us?” Rita asked him. “It’s quite a god complex you have there.”

“I brought them here.” He told her, “I didn’t really give them a choice in the matter. I threatened to take them back home and take the freedom of all of time and space away from them if they didn’t join me on one adventure. How much safer they would’ve been if they had’ve decided to go home.”

“All of time and space, eh?” Rita grew interested.

“Oh, yeah. And when we get out of this, I’ll show you, too.” He promised her, before his eyes landed on a security camera above her head and he smiled as he suddenly got an idea. “Right down to the smallest detail. Got you, Mr Minotaur.”

With that, he ran off down the stairs and Rita was left staring at the security camera. Curiously she stepped up the stairs and stood right in front of it as she looked directly into it.

“Praise him.” She smiled as she closed her eyes.

***

Loki studied you as you both sat in silence at one of the tables in the bar, you had been quiet ever since you reunited after you all got separated. He understood you were frightened, even he was too, but there had been a change in you and it didn’t take him long to figure out what it was.

“You’ve seen your room, haven’t you.” Loki quietly said as he took your hand in his to get your attention.

You had been staring into nothing and you rapidly blinked as you zoned back in and looked at Loki, his face was filled with nothing but concern for you as you silently nodded before dropped your head in shame.

Loki placed the tips of his fingers under your chin and gently encouraged you to lift your head.

“What did you see?” He asked you.

“There was a figure sat on the bed,” your eyes gently filled with tears as you retold Loki of the nightmares that plagued you as a child. “I’m next, aren’t I? It’s going to come for me. I’m sorry, Loki. I’m so sorry, I tried to resist it, I’m sorry.”

Loki tenderly shushed you as you began to cry and pulled you into his chest, where you sobbed into the front of his shirt as you let his comforting warmth and scent surround you, never wanting to leave the safety of his embrace. You whined as Loki pulled back and he left a soft kiss on your salty lips before he took your face in his hands and wiped away the tears which ran down your cheeks.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise. I will do whatever it takes to protect you.” Loki swore to you, before he let you hug back into him as he tried his best to sooth you.

Unbeknownst to the both of you, Donna watched on from the doorway to the bar, she had missed the part where you revealed you had seen your room and only caught the pair of you as Loki promised to protect you, she was beginning to believe that he truly meant it.

***

After Loki had managed to calm you down, you decided that you should go find the Doctor, Donna had revealed herself to the both of you once you exited the bar and to your surprise she didn’t have anything to say about you and Loki.

“Where’s Rita?” You asked your auntie when you realised she wasn’t with any of you.

“Maybe she’s with the Doctor.” Donna shrugged.

Donna joined you on your way to find, Rita and the Doctor, she remained silent the whole time and didn’t even send any hostile glances in Loki’s direction when he took your hand in his, you were slightly confused but didn’t question it as you were just grateful that she was giving the pair of you some peace.

You were walking down a corridor when you heard the Doctor’s voice, from behind a door that was wedged open slightly and you rushed through it with Loki and Donna close behind you.

“What’s going on? Rita’s disappeared.” You told him once you entered the room, you saw all the black and white TV’s in front of the Doctor, which displayed live security footage and you noticed he had a phone to his ear, while on one of the TVA’s Rita looked directly into the camera as she, too, spoke into a phone from one of the bedrooms which she had brought out into the corridor.

“Rita. Rita, please. Let me find you.” The Doctor urgently pleaded.

“Stay where you are.” She ordered him. “Please, let me be robbed of my faith in private.”

“Listen, Rita. Go into the room, lock the door.” The Doctor instructed her after he saw the beast walk by on the security footage displayed on one of the other TV’s and saw it was closing in on Rita.

“I’m not frightened. I’m blessed, Doctor. I’m at peace.” She told him. “I’m going to hang up now.”

“No, Rita, Don’t!” The Doctor begged.

“Goodbye, Doctor.” Rita spoke directly into the camera, it was almost as if she was looking right into the Doctors eyes. “Thank you for trying.”

“Rita! Rita, please!” The Doctor shouted, but he knew he couldn’t hear her as she pulled the phone from her ear and placed it back down on the receiver. The Doctor still hadn’t removed the phone from his own ear, as the dial tone and his useless pleas were the only sounds that filled the room.

“Doctor, it’s too late.” Donna gently told him as she slid the phone from his hand and returned it to the receiver, the Doctor couldn’t tear his eyes away from the security footage as a large shadow began to loom over Rita and she smiled.

“Doctor!” Donna called after him as he abruptly stormed out the room. You jumped when you heard the sound of glass smashing and tables being thrown over, as the Doctor unleashed his emotions, you knew he had grown close to Rita during their short time together.

Watching the beast take her had only made it all the more real, as you realised that was your unavoidable fate. You looked up at Loki, your vision blurred as moisture gathered in your eyes, he had vowed to protect you and you didn’t doubt he would but you were trapped here with no way out, even the TARDIS had disappeared, you knew that the odds were not in your favour and that realistically you didn’t have long left.

***

You, Loki and Donna quietly sat at one of the tables which the Doctor hadn’t flipped over in the now trashed bar. As the Doctor paced around in front of you all, desperately trying to figure it out.

“It preys on people’s fear and possesses them. But Rita wasn’t afraid, she was brave and calm. Maybe it’s something to do with the people, some connection between you that will tell me how to fight it.”

“Yes. You keep saying that, but while we wait, people keep dying and she will be next.” Loki criticised the Doctor and you looked at him with wide eyes as he referred to you.

“No, you won’t let that happen.” You told him, as you took his hands in yours.

“I know, darling, I know.” He turned to you in his chair, “don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“You saw your room?” Donna realised.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice trembled as you spoke to her and she instantly rose from her seat to pull you into her arms and shushed you.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for, you’re going to be okay.” She assured you.

“Oh, no. Oh, no, no.” The Doctor mumbled. “It’s not fear. It’s faith.” He realised.

You pulled away from Donna as you watched the Doctor have an epiphany.

“Not just religious faith, like Rita’s, but faith in something. Howard believed in conspiracies, that external forces controlled the world. Joe had dice cufflinks and a horseshoe pin on his tie. He was a gambler. Gamblers believe in luck. They all believe there’s something guiding them, about to save them. That’s what it replaces. Every time someone was confronted with their most primal fear, they fell back on their most fundamental faith. And this whole time, I’ve been telling you to dig deep. Find the thing that keeps you brave. I made you expose your faith and gave it exactly what it needed.” The Doctor said with regret.

“What about me?” You asked, “What does it want from me?”

“Your faith in Loki.” The Doctor answered. “That’s what brought us here.”

You all fell silent and Loki realised that the one thing putting your life in danger was your faith in him. Which meant if you died, it would be his fault, he concluded in his own mind.

“But why do they lose their faith before they die and start worshipping... “it”?” Donna was the first to break the silence.

“It needs to convert the faith into a form “it” can consume. Faith is an energy, the specific emotional energy the creature needs to live.” The Doctor explained. “Which is why at the end of her note, Lucy said...”

“Praise him.” You said.

“Exactly.” The Doctor nodded, until his eyes widened when he realised you weren’t finishing his sentence for him, you had began worshipping the beast.

“No.” Loki said to you, having realised the same thing. “Please, no.” He pleaded as he took your hands in his own.

Suddenly you began to hear a distant growl and the sound of heavy footsteps from the floor above. The beast was coming for you.

“We have to get her away from here.” The Doctor announced and Loki urged you out of your seat as you all began to run out of the bar and back into the endless maze.

As you ran through the corridors with a tight grip on Loki’s hand, you heard the footsteps coming closer behind you, until when you glanced over your shoulder, you finally saw it chasing after you.

You slipped your hand free from Loki’s and turned to face the beast, you thought it was beautiful and you didn’t understand why you were ever running from it, you wanted to welcome it and the glorious death it would bring you.

But you felt two pairs of hands dragging you away, you tried to fight against them but they were stronger, as Loki and Donna both pulled you along the hallway, away from the beast which was quickly catching up to you.

“Over here!” Loki shouted towards the Doctor when he saw door number 13, “it’s my room, there’s nothing in here!”

The Doctor pushed open the door and Loki and Donna pulled you into the room before the Doctor slammed the door shut and leaned his weight against it in an attempt to keep the beast out.

“What do we do now? We’re trapped.” Donna looked to the Doctor, Loki turned to him for answers as well, as you crouched to the floor with your back facing everyone.

Suddenly the beast slammed against the door, trying to get through, but the Doctor continued pushing his weight against the door trying to keep it out.

“You have to destroy her faith in you,” the Doctor told Loki urgently, as the beast kept beating against the door. “It’s the only way you can save her.”

Loki swallowed as he felt his throat tighten and he lowered his eyes to you where you knelt on the floor with your back to him, another hit against the door from the wild beast behind him urged him to step towards you, until he crouched by your side.

“Loki, it’s happening, it’s changing me, it’s changing my thoughts.” You told Loki, still believing he could save you.

Loki fought back his tears, throughout his entire life he had been told to control his emotions, despite that, he had never been very good at it, but now your life depended on it and he tried to remain as emotionless as possible. He gulped down the lump in his throat and controlled the tremble in his voice, so it wouldn’t give him away as he spoke.

“I can’t save you.” Loki told you and he felt the first unbearable rip in his chest as you looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes, expecting him to be your hero.

“What? No, you can. You promised.” You desperately encouraged him.

Loki had to momentarily divert his gaze to stop himself from breaking. He masked it as a bored sigh as he wiped his palm down his face before he looked back towards you, ensuring that his eyes lacked any of the adoration, trust and love that he held for you in his wounded heart. Shadows cast over his eyes, making them darker in the already dimly lit room as he stared at you from beneath his eyebrows. The only time you ever recalled him looking at someone like that was when he confronted Cassandra, back then the look had sent shivers through your spine, but now it made your chest cave as you wondered what you had done to the person you love to make him look at you like that.

“I lied.” Loki lied. “I tricked you. I’m the God of Mischief, it’s what I do best, and you fell for it so easily.”

“You’re lying. It’s not funny.” You shook your head, refusing to believe him, your faith in him remained strong. Loki decided to try another tactic which caused a sick feeling to stir in his stomach, but he had promised he would do whatever it takes to protect you and he wasn’t going to break his promise, even if that meant he had to make you hate him.

“You should have listened to your auntie,” Loki continued. “She was right, I’ve been lying to you this whole time. I wasn’t controlled by the mind stone when I attacked New York, I brought death and destruction and enjoyed every second of it.”

“No, stop.” You pleaded as you began to sob, “why are you saying this?” You tried to hold onto him but he shoved you away as he stood up straight above you and you grovelled at his feet, clinging onto him and your belief in him for dear life, like it wasn’t the one thing endangering it.

By now the beast had managed to overpower the Doctor and the door was wide open. It’s shadow loomed over you and Loki realised that if he was about to lose you forever, he would rather it be in the way where you survived in the end. He had to truly hurt you.

“I told you a made up sob story and you fell for it, like a fool... or perhaps you were just so desperate for some affection, you didn’t care who it came from. I’d expect nothing less from a pathetic human such as yourself. You asked me once if I thought you were a worthless creature,” Loki noticed the monster finally stopped in his tracks half way into the room, as you finally let go of his legs and began to shuffle away from him, dreading what he was going to say next. Loki knew that this was the final blow that would completely shatter your faith and trust in him and save your life. So with his heart already torn in to shreds, he prepared to reach into his chest and rip out the broken pieces of his heart and throw them away, destroying any chance of it ever being put back together again after this. “Truth be told, I think you’re the most worthless of them all.”

With that the beast collapsed to his knees and you scrambled to your feet to get away from Loki as you looked at him with so much betrayal, he had to avoid your eyes to stop himself from breaking down right there in front of you and start begging for your forgiveness.

You rushed to your auntie for comfort, while the Doctor crouched by the creatures side as it let out it’s final breaths.

Once it was dead, the hotel around you began to collapse like a house of cards, you were all left unharmed as everything around you vanished into nothing, until it revealed that you had been on a spaceship this whole time as you were surrounded by futuristic electronics and a round window which revealed the vast vacuum of space and a nearby grey planet. The ship was quiet and it seemed to be abandoned, but you weren’t going to stick around long enough to double check as you finally saw the TARDIS, stood in the far corner of the dark room. You wanted to get as far away from Loki as possible, so as soon as you had laid eyes on the Doctors ship, you had ran towards it and disappeared behind its blue doors.

It was then that Loki realised why his room had been empty, it was in his room where he had lost you, and that was his biggest fear.

#loki #loki (marvel)#loki x reader #loki x you #loki x female reader #loki imagine #doctor who #tenth doctor #10th doctor #donna noble #tom hiddleston

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capsteddybear · 3 years

Text

Our Playlist: Candy - Cameo

Song lyric: **" You're like a brand new feeling, in a special way, A surprise package, On a bright clear sunny day."

You and Chris are unpacking all of the food and drinks you just bought from the store for your game night. Tonight you would be meeting some of Chris' friends. Okay not just friends, but his fellow co stars from the Avengers.

You let out a deep breathe, "Not gonna lie I'm kinda nervous about meeting everyone."

Chris stops unpacking and touches your hand, "there's no reason to be. I love you and they will too." He kisses your cheek and continues unpacking the food. You put all of the drinks and beer in the fridge while Chris sets up the snacks on the coffee table. You guys then get games from the hallway closet and place them on the coffee table. You also bring out one of your portal white boards to keep score and to maybe play pictionary.

The doorbell rings and Chris takes your hand, "they're here." You take a deep breath as you're walking to the door and Chris squeezes your hand, "hey, it's gonna be fine" and kisses you on the cheek. You smile and Chris opens the front door. The first person you see is Anthony Mackie.

"Heeeey!" Chris and Anthony exchange hugs and Chris introduces you. "Anthony, this is (y/n). (Y/n) this is Anthony."

You shake his hand, "nice to meet you."

"Pleasure is all mine. You're more beautiful than Chris described."

You blush at his comment, "thank you."

"Hey stop flirting with the poor girl, she's already taken." You turn around and see Scarlett.

You laugh, "Hi Scarlett."

"Hi, it's (y/n), right?" You shake hands.

"Yeah."

"Nice to meet you. And ignore Anthony's flirty comments." She gives him a playfully punch on the shoulder. She greets Chris with a hug, "hi Chris."

"Hi Scarlett."

Next to walk in is Sebastian Stan and Chris Hemsworth.

"This is Sebastian and this is the other Chris. Guys, this is (y/n)."

"Hi (y/n), nice to meet you" Sebastian shakes your hand.

"Nice to meet you."

"Hi, other Chris" you laugh as you shake his hand.

"Please, feel free to call me Hemmy. There'll be less confusion."

You smile, "Alright, Hemmy it is."

Chris closes the front door as everyone takes a seat in the living room, "you guys want a beer or something to drink?"

Everyone including you answers yes in unison. Chris laughs and heads to the kitchen to grab some beers for everyone.

Anthony scoots to the edge of the couch and clips his hands together, "Alright, so what's the first game we're gonna play? I came here to win!"

Scarlett points to the white board, "let's start off easy, how about some pictionary?"

Sebastian answers, "sounds good. Who's on what team?"

"Well I would say boys versus girls, but we're outnumbered" Scarlett replies.

"I'll be the better man and join you ladies," Hemmy raises his hand.

Chris walks back into the living room with everyone's drinks, "so did we decide what we're starting with?"

You answer, "yeah, pictionary. And you're on the loser team with Sebastian and Anthony" you give Chris a smirk and everyone laughs.

"Oh, starting the trash talking early aren't we?" Anthony asks.

"Of course." You smile at Anthony.

"Alright let's start. Our team goes first." Anthony grabs a marker from the table and a card with the subject on it.

You grab the sand timer from the table, "Okay you got 30 seconds to draw. Ready? Go!" You flip it over and the sand starts to flow. Everyone's attention is on Anthony as he starts to draw. He starts with a stick figure standing on some sort of board.

Chris and Sebastian start yelling out their guesses.

"Surfer!"

"Surfing!"

Anthony shakes his head. He adds dots around the stick figure.

"What the fuck is that???" Chris shouts.

Everyone starts laughing. Anthony then draws pine trees.

"Snowboarding?"

"Snowboarder?"

Anthony then draws an arrow to the board.

"Snowboard!" Sebastian stands up and yells.

"Oh my God finally" Anthony says.

"Wait, hang on, what are the dots?" Chris points to the picture, "are those supposed to snowflakes? That's not how you draw snowflakes, man."

"whatever, we got the point."

Anthony takes a seat back on the couch and Scarlett is the first to go from your team. Sebastian flips the timer and Scarlett begins to the draw. She first draws a big mouth with teeth showing. You and Hemmy begin guessing.

"Smile!"

"Teeth."

She then draws a toothbrush.

"Toothbrush!"

She adds bubbles around the toothbrush.

You point to the board and shout, "toothpaste!"

"Yes!" Scarlett runs up to you and gives you a high five.

Sebastian is up next. You flip the timer and he begins drawing. First he draws a t-shirt and pants.

"Clothes!"

"Outfit!"

Sebastian then adds a bed.

"Pajamas!?" Chris yells.

Sebastian nods his head, "Yeeeeeah." He gives Chris and Anthony fist bumps before taking a seat. It's now Hemmy's turn to draw. Chris flips the time and he starts. He draws a circle with a little leaf on the top.

"An apple!"

"A tomato.

He then draws a bottle.

"Apple juice?"

"Apple cider!"

Hemmy shakes his head and quickly draws a hotdog and a squiggly line on it and points to it.

You stand up and shout, "ketchup!"

Hemmy points to you and everyone busts out laughing. Hemmy gives you a high five and passes the marker to Chris. He grabs a card and he waits for you to flip the timer to begin drawing.

Chris starts with a big square.

"Picture frame."

"TV."

Chris laughs and draws a couple of fish.

"A fish tank!"

"Finding Nemo?"

Chris shakes his head and continues drawing. He draws stick figures.

"Scuba diving!"

"Deep sea divers!"

Chris shakes his head again and adds a whale, but the timer runs out.

"Time!!!" Scarlett shouts.

Chris groans, "damn it."

"Was it an aquarium?" Sebastian asks.

"Yeah." Chris answers. He puts his head down and walks over to you and hands you the marker. You give him a pouty face and pat him on the shoulder as you walk by. Sebastian flips the timer and you start drawing.

"Balloon!"

"Hot air balloon"

You then add a stick figure to the bottom of the balloon.

"Skydiving"

"Sky diver."

You draw an arrow to the balloon part of your drawing.

"A parachute!" Hemmy yells.

"Yes!" You run up to your teammates and give a high five.

You guys play a couple more rounds. Your team has been in the lead by just 1 point. It's the last round and Chris' team needs to get this last drawing in order to win the game.

"Alright so who's gonna go for your team?"

"Uh we vote Sebastian to go."

Sebastian stands up and heads to the white board.

"Come on man you got this." Anthony roots.

You flip the timer and he starts drawing. Within a couple of seconds the game is over.

"Cat"

"Kitten!"

Sebastian quickly turns around bows.

"What the fuck? That was too easy." You yell.

Everyone cracks up.

Anthony leans over, "what did you say about the losing team earlier?"

You roll your eyes and stick out your tongue, "oh shush."

"What should we play next?" Scarlett asks.

Anthony quickly replies, "doesn't matter because I'm gonna win."

Sebastian grabs the deck of cards on the table, "Uno?"

You raise an eyebrow, "How about drunk uno? If you forget to shout out Uno when you're down to one card you gotta take a shot in addition to picking up cards."

Everyone nods, "sounds good."

You run to the kitchen to grab shot glasses and liquor from the cabinet while the rest of them clear off the coffee table and grab extra chairs from the dining room and sit around the table. Chris shuffles the cards and passes them out.

While you guys are playing they ask how you and Chris met. Chris explains how you met at the welcome home party. You smile and start to reminisce and forget to yell uno when you put your card down.

Sebastian quickly points to you and shouts, "uno! Take a shot."

"Ah shit, I got distracted."

Chris quickly turns to you and kisses your cheek, "sorry" he whispers.

You laugh and pour yourself a shot.

The game continues. During the game Hemmy and Anthony end up taking shots for forgetting to shout uno. Scarlett ends up winning the first game. Chris wins the second game even though he had to take 2 shots for not yelling uno the first two times. You were starting to think that the alcohol was helping him focus because he also won the next game. You guys play a few more rounds of uno before just lounging around the coffee table talking and drinking.

Chris and Anthony get up from their seats to go to the kitchen for more snacks.

You go to the bathroom while the others pick what game they wanna play next. When you come back from the bathroom the group has decided to play cards against humanity and are setting up the game. You head to the kitchen to tell Chris and Anthony to hurry up when you sneak up on them talking about you. You hide behind one of the pillars and listen in on their conversation.

"You seem really happy", Anthony says leaning against the kitchen counter.

Chris looks down and smiles, "I am, man. I really am", he takes a drink of his beer.

"She's perfect for you, man. She has the same humor as you."

He laughs, "Thanks. I love her so much."

Your eyes tear up a bit and you smile. You take a deep breath and come out from behind the pillar. "Hey guys, we're ready for the next game. Let's go." You walk up to Chris and wrap your arms around him. He notices your eyes are watery.

"You okay?"

"Uh yeah", you put your hand on his chest.

Chris smiles and kisses your forehead.

"Alright you love birds, let's go" Anthony buds in.

You guys head back to the living room and rejoin the rest of the group. During the rounds of Cards Against Humanity the group gets a real feel for the sense of humor you have. A dirty sense of humor to be exact because you win the first two games.

You guys play for a bit longer before calling it quits since its 3 o'clock in the morning. Once everyone has left, you and Chris attempt to clean up, but are distracted by each other. Every time you pass him he grabs you and kisses you.

You moan against his lips, "come on Chris, we gotta clean up. I don't wanna do it tomorrow morning."

He groans and kisses your forehead, "Okay fine, but as soon as we're done you're mine."

You guys continue cleaning up, but when you see Chris in the kitchen putting stuff away in the cupboard you sneak up behind him and wrap your arms around him. He jumps at your touch, "hey, what did you say earlier? Hands off til we're done."

"Yeah, I'm done" You kiss him on the cheek.

He points to the counter, "Okay but I'm not. I still need to put this stuff away."

You tickle his sides, "hurry up."

"Hey!" Chris quickly turns around and tries to tickle you, but you slip out of his reach and take off running down the hallway to your bedroom. "You're not getting away that easy."

Chris grabs you and you both fall onto the bed out of breath and laughing. He rolls you over so he's laying on top of you both of his arms on either side of you so he doesn't squish you. You run your hands up and down his forearms as he looks into your eyes. You both calm down from laughing. "Told you I'll catch you."

You bite your lip, "Now that you have me, what's next?"

"This." Chris leans down and starts kissing you. You moan against his lips. You wrap your arms around him to pull him closer. He kisses your neck, "I love you, (y/n)."

"I love you too."

You guys keep kissing each other before you push on Chris' chest.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm hot."

Chris laughs, "why yes you are."

You smile, "No, well thanks, but I meant you're making me hot."

Chris raises an eyebrow, "you're welcome."

You laugh, "goddamn it, that's not what I meant, Chris. Well in that category you are too, but I mean temperature hot." You tug at his jacket.

He looks down and laughs, "Oh." He sits on the edge of the bed and kicks off his shoes and starts taking off his jacket and shirt. When he turns back he sees you have taken off your shirt as well. He lays back on top of you. "Better?"

"Much better?" You wrap your arms around his back and kiss him. Chris' hands start to wander down your sides, but he feels you tense up and stops.

"Hey what's wrong?" He cups your face with his hand. You keep your eyes close and stay silent. Chris kisses you on the cheek. "(Y/n), what's wrong? Talk to me."

You open your eyes and let out a deep breath, "As much as I would love to have sex with you right now, I'm not ready yet... Sorry." Your eyes are watery so you look away.

Chris cups your face so you would look at him, "Hey, Don't be sorry. I'm more than okay with waiting." He kisses your cheek as a single tear rolls down. "I love you." He hugs you before rolling over and pulling you close to his chest.

"I love you too."

#chris evans #chrisevans #chris evans fanfiction #chrisevansfanfic #chris evans and reader #chris evans smut

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chromium7sky · 3 years

Text

The Devil wears Armani | chapter 12

A/n: I'm really sorry for the long hiatus of this au 😭. Finally got some spark about this update and I hope you guys enjoy it. Btw, guess who finally meet Raven? 😆😆

Raven finally reached her home after outing and small reunion with Karen. She remove her heels awkwardly as she yawned. It was a long night.

She tell Karen everything about what happen between her and Damian and of course minus the intimacy in his office.

-flash back-

Karen land her chin on her palm propped on the table as she listen to Raven's story. "You know, this is an interesting story though but did he knew about Melchior?"

Raven narrowed her eyes. " Why would I mention that jerk? Besides me and Damian still haven't declare about our relationship, I mean, he does flirt me back. Not to mention we did kiss..." Raven stop at the kissing part.

"Men can be complicated sometimes." She sighed as she take a bite from the cake she ordered.

"Couldn't agree more since I'm about to marry one." Karen wiggle her fingers that had betrothed ring on it.

Both designer and ex model giggled.

"I...I just hope Damian is serious about it. I'm quite invested my feeling for him." Raven chewed her lips.

"I hope so, Rachel. I hope he does." Karen smiled.

- end flashback-

Raven sighed on her bed after she change her clothes into night gown. "Gotta get some sleep because I'm going to meet him tomorrow. Should I ask again about us?"

Raven's mind wander about the golden question, her eyes start to droop as the cold night beckons her to the land of morpheus.

--------

Damian watched the E! Entertainment as he tidy up his studio to catch up any news on fashion industry then the anchorman, Josh Dirkmann said about a known designer from Europe came to town known as Melchior Draco.

"Melchior?" Damian arched his brows. Another designer in town? Maybe there's an event? And as soon as the reporter had some short interview with the silver hair gentlemen with black suit.

"So what makes you come to Gotham?" The reporter pointed the mic towards the designer.

"Well, a big company invited me to launched both of our collaboration and they said Gotham fit the aesthetic." He answered as he tug his silver hair behind his ears which earn a sneer from Damian as he watch the interview.

"Do you know Raven the designer?"

" Oh, yes. We did compete each other in Paris Fashion Show. She won first while I won second. It was a tough decision for the judges. Just so you know, between you and me, we kinda close during that time." Melchior slip out some interesting info towards the reporter.

The reporter almost gasped and demand for more answer but Melchior quickly waved away and walked towards the hotel lobby.

Damian quickly grab the remote control and closed the show.

" What do you mean close each other?" Both of his eyebrows knitted together. He closed his eyes and throw the remote at the couch. "It doesn't matter."

-------

Raven now in mess. The phone call came in nonstop just because of a statement when Melchior mention that both of them were close and the paparazzi possible sniffing out a scandal.

She sighed and landed her head on her desk. A hard knocking landed on her door makes her jolted. " Come in." As she turn her head towards the door.

Mona came in a hurry with an apologetic face. " Miss Rachel, I forgot to inform you that there will be a journalist came for your gala interview today. I'm really really sorry." Mona bow her head.

Raven stare blankly at Mona while her internal having conflict. 'First it's was Melchior statement and now interview? What...what should I do?'

Her palm start to sweat but quickly she fist up her hand. " When will be the journalist comes?"

The assistant girl check through her tablet. " In two hours."

"Who from where?"

"Jonathan Kent from Daily Planet, ma'am."

"Oh?" The same journalist who interview her winning success in fashion show. " Well, make sure escort him to my office and prepare our boarding room. Easier to execute it in there." Raven gives a stern order.

Mona nodded her head vigorously then quickly exit her room.

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

She straighten her back as she heard a knock. She breath in. "Come in."

"Ms. Rachel!"

"Mona."

"A journalist came to meet you for Wayne's Gala interview." She gesture her hands towards a young man with curly hair and those prominent square glasses. "Mr. Jonathan Kent."

"Ah, Jonathan. Hi! It's been a while." Raven stretch her hand towards him.

Jon adjust his specs then handshake with her. "Thank you for letting me interview again , Ms. Roth." His face display his friendliness towards her.

Mona bowed her heads and quickly went out of her office. "How about we bring this interview to boarding room? More comfy?" Raven suggest about changing place.

"Yeah, you're right." Jon nodded.

Raven stood up and escort Jon to the meeting room for more proper place to interview.

She open the light switch and pull out a chair. " You can sit here."

"Ah, right, thank you." Jon smiled sheepishly as he pull the leather chair and sit, opposite with the owner of AMZ company.

" So, how long does this interview lasting?" Raven asked him as soon as she's in her seat and lean on the table with both of her hands propped on her chin.

"Well, not long, more or less 10 minutes." The journalist smile sheepishly. "Anyway..." He pull out his notebook, voice recording and a pen."Let us start with, how long you know Damian Wayne?"

"Well...since I was freshly involved in this industry, Mr Wayne offered me to promote myself at Gala." Raven calmly answer as she tried to cover Damian from being involve with fashion drawing class back in those days.

Jon then stopped the voice recording which made her jolted then adjust his specs. "You are the one who have the same class with him right?"

Raven almost gasped but she quickly act nonchalant as she tried to deny it . "Are you try to dig something from me, Mr Kent?"

"Ah, yes. Such as wanted to know more about Dami's secret girl." He smiled.

Dami? Her eyebrow arched as she heard the name. Why in the world he would address Damian that way? "You must be mistaking. We were only in term of business."

"Seriously? I thought you guys were serious." He's moping. "He did ask me about how to flirt a girl too. Man, he's really an emotional constipated." He laughed. "Besides, Dami said he haven't meet her in 3 years after he's graduated."

Raven with her eyes wide as she heard it from him. "HOW DID YOU KNOW ALL THAT?!" She quickly rised from the desk.

Jon jolted as he seen her reaction. " Ah, I guess that's why he keep a secret about his girl." Sweat drop start to rolled down on his forehead. "I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable. Let me introduce myself again."

Jon straighten his back and stretch his hand. "Hi, I'm Jonathan Kent. Dami' s childhood friend and school mate, same goes with roommate at uni and currently, a journalist." He smiled.

Raven tried to process all the information at once and it takes a few moment. "So, you are Damian's close friend?" She point out with as she narrowed her eyes.

"That's right!" Jon's smile getting wider.

"Ah, hello." She slowly put her hands on him which Jon grab it and makes a several shake as he excited to met her.

"It's really pleasure to meet you by the way! For sure if Maya and Colin knew about you they will be screaming or teasing him saying Dami has finally grown up!" He laughed.

Raven sit on her chair with unsure feeling. First the confession, then his childhood friend meet her, and then what? A wedding? She press her lips into a thin line.

"You know, Dami is not that kind of guy when it comes to women. He always thought they were hyenas." Jon chuckled.

"Hyenas?" Raven puzzled. "What's with hyenas?"

"Ever since he lives in Gotham, he always seen his father been in and out with other women who prey for money. Still, poor him having lack of parent's love." Jon sighed.

That explain why he's being hard on anyone. Raven attentively listen to Jon's story. "You know, he has pets like a zoo at his house. From cow to snakes. I remember when I came, This Alfred the cat always sulking and threaten to scratch me."

"An animal lover? That much?" Both of Raven's eyebrow jumpy as she heard it. She could imagine if Damian standing on the field, as birds will land on him, it either makes him look like Disney princess or a scarecrow.

"Most of them are animal rescue." Jon nodded.

"I see..." Then Raven suddenly remember something. "How did Damian took fashion drawing class by the way?"

"Actually we suggested to him. I mean seriously, you haven't seen his potrait and figure drawing, Those are amazing! He most likely to observe the surrounding and draw on his sketch book while on his free time."

Wait. Does that means Damian has a secret sketch book like her? Raven unconsciously put her hands on her lips.

"Still, what makes you suspect it was me? I mean we haven't contact it for a while."

"Other than he told me that he haven't met her in three years, I've seen a drawing that looks just like you at his studio." Jon smiled.

There it is.

Raven sighed and there's a slightly red tint on her ears.

"Why you haven't contact him when he's in middle east?" Jon asked curious question.

"It was because when I know that he's Damian Wayne, I..I was screwed. I mean, Wayne as in Wayne Enterprise. The biggest contributor on east side. Me? I'm just, just an orphan girl who try to rise my own feet."

"Oh?"

"My mother died when I was 14. I still don't know who were my father is and all I got is this necklace from my mother." She showed the necklace to Jon.

The young journalist seems to be fasinating with it's design. "I wonder where did your mother got this?"

Raven sighed as she try to remember. " I'm not sure. All I remember that it's been in heritage for years."

"I see." Jon rubbed his chin. "Well, Maybe you should hang up with us sometimes. I'm sure Colin and Maya would love to see you." He smiled.

"The thing is, Jon. I'm still unclear about between us." Raven chewed her lips.

"Ah nonsense, he really likes you. I can see from the way he look at you."

"Is it? Wait, where did you saw him see me?"

"I think it was two day before?"

Raven slap both of her cheeks. OH MY GOD, HE SAW BOTH OF US KISSING.

"And don't worry. I won't tell a soul, though, I've been warn by him and probably will be dig out by Colin and Maya." Jon widen his smile as sweat start to rolled down on his cheek."Dami has been my friend of more than a decade. I understand the way he express himself."

Raven nodded slowly. " Jon, a question."

"Yeah?"

"Since you are a journalist, do you know anything about Melchior?" Raven voice change to serious tone.

"That Silver Blond guy?"

"Yeah."

" I heard he's having collaboration with a big company. However, another speculation I heard that he choose Gotham because of its mysterious aesthetic."

"Well, uh, there's something I heard during interview. He claimed that we were close during the fashion show competition."

Raven as stared at the desk.

"Been wondering myself too. Are you close to him?" Jon's curious eyes start to lit.

"We do only for a while but the thing is he stole my design during that time which I never forgive myself for letting me get fooled by him." Raven sighed then she looked at Jon. "Wait. Don't tell me you're going to put this on paper?"

"Wait, I get it." Jon again propped his hand on his chin. "No wonder I've seen familiarity design between both of you. Plus you're having a hard time too."

"Uh, Jon?"

"I think I found something to investigate." Jon's mischievous smiles start to paint on his face.

"Now you act like Damian."

"Damian is more hardcore. I'm still on the average level." Jon beamed his happy face on her.

"Well, I think our interview stopped here. Besides, I need to cover some story from Me Wayne itself about the gala."

"Dami?"

"Yep."

"So, nice to meet you, Ms. Rachel Roth. It's been a pleasure talking to you."

"It's been a pleasure to spill tea with you." Raven smug.

Jon blinked then put on his mischievous smile.

-------

Somewhere in his office, Damian sneezed for no reason. " Is it me or is this office are getting colder?" He looked at the air ventilation.

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