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royaltyofmultifandom · 3 years ago

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Can’t survive without you

Summary: Two years after Y/n told Jane she couldn’t love her in the dark anymore she finds herself at Jane’s hospital bedside. Will Jane be able to prove to her ex-girlfriend she’s changed or will Y/n still walk away.

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: Angst with happy ending, injury and a little fluff.

A/n: Hi everyone! So I wasn’t planning on writing a second part to Love in the Dark as I wanted to test out my writing skills regarding angst as most of my stuff is smut or fluffy at the moment. But I received a few private messages and asks, asking me if I could do a part two so here I am. Hope you all enjoy and as always likes, comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated. Happy reading :)

Love in the dark part one , MASTERLIST // Join my Taglist!

Two years have passed since that night, when you walked away from Jane Banner. After you left the apartment you got in a cab and headed to your mom’s house where you let yourself fall apart, leaving Jane was never easy in fact it was the hardest thing you’d ever done.

You hadn’t taken the decision lightly but instead had been dwelling on it for weeks when you finally decided that you had to end the relationship. It was what was best for you and for Jane, though she’d never admit it. That week you asked your boss to be transferred to a different field office and if anyone came asking where you had transferred he was to tell them nothing. Your boss agreed although he was sad to see you go and you ended up transferring to Boston’s field office and after spending a week at your mom’s you threw yourself into being an agent.

****************

You dump your stuff at your desk and pick up the case file that has been laid on your desk, rubbing the remaining sleep out of your eyes. You look at the time on your computer and note it showing 8am and yawn once more before deciding to grab a cup of coffee.

“Hey hey hey, wow you look like death today y/l/n” your friend Mack teases as you slap him playfully over the back of the head. “Yeah well I feel like it too, god I don’t know what it is but I’m so tired today. On top of that I can’t shake this feeling that we are going to get bad news today” you sigh, selecting your chosen coffee type and placing your mug underneath the coffee machine.

“Come on Y/n, you’re probably just exhausted, try not to overthink so much. How about we head to the bar after work and let loose it’s about time you get laid by some beautiful woman. When’s the last time you even got laid?” Mack tries to cheer you up; he knows about you being into women as do the rest of the field agents and they were all totally cool with it.

“Uhm two years I think” you mumble trying not to think of Jane, there hasn’t been a day that has passed that you haven’t thought about her. If you were being honest you know full well that you are still in love with Jane Banner everytime you tried to get to know someone else you always compared them to her so, eventually, you stopped trying.

“Two years! Wait, so you haven’t slept with anyone since your ex?” Mack exclaims loudly as you try to tell him to be quiet. Just as Mack is about to enter his whole you need to let her go and sleep with someone speech three field agents come running over holding their phone.

“Guys you’ll never guess what. Some field agent from Las Vegas got involved in a shoot out on a reservation in Wyoming apparently she got shot and is in hospital on the mainland but it was touch and go for a while. She solved the murder of a teenage girl who had been found dead in the middle of the mountains barefoot. This agent is all the field offices are talking about and many are trying to recruit her, she was the only one left alive from the shoot out along with some local hunter. Crazy right she just came out of nowhere..” Murphy, a field agent you had worked with closely couldn’t stop herself from fawning over the agent.

As soon as you heard the agent was stationed in Las Vegas you couldn’t help the dread that seeped through your body as your hands got sweaty with worry. It couldn’t be Jane right, I mean what are the chances but you had to know.

“Who was the agent? What was her name? Her name Murphy. What was it?” you interrupt with a line of panicked questions. Everyone stops and stares at you but Murphy can sense it is important so she scans the information “uhm her name is Jane Banner” she relays.

In that moment you can’t think, your mind runs into overdrive and everyone around you disappears as the room starts spinning and all you can make out is muffled voices around you. The pang of pain that was present in your chest that night when you left makes its return as your breathing turns shallow and restricted as you struggle to take in any breath at all. Your chest feels like it is being crushed and you claw at your shirt to try and help yourself but it doesn’t work as you feel the sting of your tears forming in your eyes. You feel someone wrap their arms around you and whisper but you can’t make out what they are saying until you make out Mack’s voice.

“Y/n, hey, stay with me okay? Follow my breathing, we are going to take deep breaths in and out okay?” you nod shakily as he grabs his hand and places it over his heart to give you something else to focus on then he starts his deep breaths and you follow slowly coming back to reality. You look around and your field agents look concerned and ask if you are okay as Murphy comes over and sits you down on a chair and hands you some water.

“You know her don’t you?” Murphy guesses tentatively. You nod “Yeah I do, she’s very important to me but someone from my past” you confirm. You know then in that moment that you need to see her, need to know if she is alive and recovering so you excuse yourself and head to your supervisor’s office.

You knock on the door and wait for confirmation to come in and once you do your supervisor gestures to you to sit down.

“I’d like to request time off sir, the woman, Jane Banner, she is someone very close to me and I would like..no need to see her sir” you state adamantly.

“Okay agent y/l/n I can grant you leave but I can only grant you three weeks will that be sufficient?” he informs you. “Yes sir, that is more than sufficient. Thank you” you agree to the time off and he sends you home.

*******************

After packing the essentials into a bag you rush to the airport and grab the next flight to Jane.

You spend the majority of the flight wondering how Jane will react to you visiting her. Will she be angry that you show up now after two years, will she be happy and relieved to see you again or will she be worried in case someone sees the two of you together. On top of that you worry about her condition, how bad is her wound? Where was she shot? You try to calm yourself as all these thoughts race through your head.

Once you have touched down it is too late to visit Jane so you book into a nearby hotel and decide to try and get some sleep. You contacted some old field agents from your time in Las Vegas and one of them gives you the details of which hospital Jane is being treated in.

You toss and turn all night worrying about the love of your life.

***************

You take a deep breath as you walk into the hospital and head towards the receptionist.

“Hi, I’m here to see Jane Banner. I’m her fiance” you know how difficult it is to visit people if you aren’t their immediate family not to mention Jane will have additional security being an agent shot in the field.

“Of course, she is in room 504” the receptionist replies with a sympathetic smile as you thank her and head on up to see Jane for the first time in two years.

You reach her room and you tear up the moment you see her in the hospital bed still as beautiful as the day you left her. You gather your nerve and knock on the open door drawing her attention away from the television in her room.

Jane’s head turns her head wincing at the pain in her neck to see who entered her room as her chest drops at the woman standing in front of her.

Jane’s green eyes meet yours in an intense stare as the two of you take each other in never thinking that you would see one another ever again after that night two years ago.

“Y/n?” Jane gasped as her eyes filled with tears.

“Yeah Jane, it’s me. Uhm I can go this was a bad idea you probably don’t want to see me..” you ramble as you turn to leave her room.

“Wait” she panics loudly as you turn back around. “Please stay?” she pleads her eyes showing vulnerability and uncertainty. You nod smiling “of course” as you make your way over and sit on the edge of her bed.

“You’re all the FBI are talking about Jane, the woman who survived a shoot out and solved the murder of a teenage girl on a reservation. Everyone wants to recruit you to their field offices” you smile at her before you sigh and reveal why you are really here.

“I had to see you, I know that’s selfish after what I did but I needed to ensure you were okay. The truth is there has not been a single day that has passed since I left that I haven’t thought about you or wondered how you were doing. It took me a long time to be okay and I’m not entirely convinced I am even now. I always questioned my choice and if I made the correct one. I thought about flying back to you and running into your arms and feeling your lips against mine once more” you explain as the tears fall from your eyes.

Jane takes your hand in hers and strokes it softly with her thumb comforting you “I never stopped thinking about you either Y/n. I am still in love with you, I always have been. It was my fault that you left, I never ever blamed you only myself. I was so wrapped up in what other people would think or say behind my back along with my own internalised homophobia that I completely forgot what was right in front of me. You’re the love of my life Y/n y/l/n and you always will be.

When I got shot I had so much adrenaline running through my veins I could only comprehend that I’d been shot and everyone else I was working with was dead. Then when I got to cover, holding my wound and waiting for someone to come, all I could think about was you” Jane’s lip trembles as she looks at you with a pained expression.

“All I could do was replay our moments together like I’d done a thousand times over the past two years and every time I pictured a great one I realised I’d always ruined it somehow by being worried about being caught or hiding our relationship. I hurt you and I know that now. I thought about how after all this was over I’d come find you and apologise for the ways that I hurt you and tell you that I came out around six months after you left and that I did a lot of soul searching. That I am not the same woman I was back then Y/n. I’d tell you that I am so in love with you and I never stopped loving you and I would beg for a second chance because I can’t survive without you. I only stayed alive because of you Y/n, when I closed my eyes I could hear your voice praying for me to stay alive” she finishes sobbing gently so as not to hurt herself.

My own tears are streaming down my own cheeks as I know she’s changed. I can see it in her eyes and feel it in the way she speaks with such certainty. I reach forward and wipe her tears away with the pad of my thumb and cup her cheek gently on the opposite side of her neck wound. Jane leans against my hand and closes her eyes, reveling in the comfort of having me close again.

“I am in love with you too Jane, I said when I left that I would never stop and I meant that. I will always be in love with you. I can see you have changed, baby , so yes, I will give you another chance. The thought that I had lost you when I heard them say your name broke me, my love. I had a panic attack and raced here to see you because I knew then that I never want to be apart from you again. It’s not going to be easy to trust you won’t hide us again but I want to try Jane, I want you to prove to me with actions rather than words that you are not ashamed of me or us” you inform her.

Jane nods her head frantically “yes baby, I will never hide you again. I will love you in the daylight this time and give you the love you deserve” she promises. You giggle wiping both your own tears and Jane’s away holding her head gently still “stop moving you idiot, you’re going to hurt yourself”. Jane laughs “so, can I kiss you?” she implores.

“Yes, my love, you can kiss me” you confirm leaning towards Jane so she wouldn’t injure herself as you take her bottom lip in between your own lips. Your lips move against hers in a slow rhythm as they fit perfectly with Jane’s, just like you remember as you relish in how soft her lips are. Jane brings her hand to tangle in your hair as she pulls you into her further as she runs her tongue along your bottom lip silently requesting to deepen the kiss which you grant. You both let out soft moans as your tongues meet each other, running over one another sensually. You pull away when you need to catch your breath as Jane groans in protest as you let out a chuckle as you lean your forehead against hers before placing a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Don’t worry baby, we will have plenty of time to do that for the rest of our lives” you reassure her.

Just as Jane was about to reply a man knocked on the door. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just came to check on you and see how you were doing” he directs at Jane. “I’m okay” she replies then smiles as she looks at you.

“So, you must be the fiance the receptionist told me about downstairs. I’m Cory nice to meet you” he holds out his hand which you shake.

“Fiance huh?” Jane smirks nudging you teasingly as you roll your eyes “oh shut up, you and I both know it was the only way they were going to let me see you” you huff.

Jane presses a kiss to your forehead “Cory this is Y/n my girlfriend and Y/n this is Cory we worked together on the case, he saved my life out there” you feel an overwhelming feeling of pride and love as Jane introduces you as her girlfriend proudly.

You look back at Cory “thank you, for saving her life. I can’t imagine mine without her. I will never be able to repay you” you praise him. “No thanks necessary Jane really is a remarkable woman you’re sure lucky to have her” he points out as you look back at her gazing into her big green orbs once more “yeah, I sure am” you sigh placing another kiss to her lips.

******************

You and Jane took things slow for three weeks as she recovered fully and she made up for her past mistakes by showing you off to everyone in her life along with complete strangers. The two of you headed back to Las Vegas together and the first time you walked in her apartment the painful memories of that night returned.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’re good baby no more bad thoughts okay?” she comforts you as she walks over to you smiling as she wraps her arms around your neck and places a loving kiss to your lips before moving them to your neck as she nuzzles into your neck silently thanking you for giving her a second chance.

Since then, Jane held your hand in public, placing random kisses against your crown, cheeks or hands whenever the two of you would be walking. The two of you went on many dates of all kinds and you had never felt as happy as you did these past three weeks but unfortunately, your leave was up and now that Jane had made a full recovery the two of you had to return to work.

You pull out your bag and place it on the bed as Jane places a suitcase on the bed too. You look at her puzzled as Jane just smiles widely at you “I accepted a transfer and position in Boston” she gushes.

“Are you serious baby?” you exclaim as you jump into Jane’s arms and she spins you around as laughter fills her bedroom. You lean in and pepper kisses all over her face.

******************

“Welcome to your new home my love” you welcome her into your apartment holding her hand.

“I love it already but I do have one change to make” she notes before unzipping her suitcase and pulls out a framed photograph of the two of you and sets it on the stand as you come from the front door.

You smile through your tears to look at your girlfriend’s beaming prideful face which drops when she sees your tears as she rushes to your side and cups your face in her hands.

“I’m sorry baby, I just wanted to show our relationship in our home this time. I can take it down” she rushes as she pulls away to take it down but you grab her wrist and pull her into your chest “no, it’s perfect my love, I can already tell this time around we’re going to make it. I love you” you say.

“And I love you baby” Jane states, capturing your lips in hers.

At that moment Jane couldn’t care less where her career goes or what people will say about her relationship. All she cares about is showing you how in love she is with you for the rest of her life.

#elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #jane banner #jane banner x reader #jane banner x you #jane banner imagine #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen fanfic #wind river

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annoyingstupidmiracle · 3 years ago

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L.A. Confidential- l.r.h

CONTAINTS SMUT

Word Count: 1876

“My girl might leave me if she hears about this..” That Aussie accent mumbled under his breath as you left marks down his neck in a heated session behind his hotel door. You wouldn’t dare say a word as long as is hands would continue lingering on your skin every other night.

“She won’t,” you told him as he unzipped the back of your dress.

Your eyes blinked as you came out of your daydream from only a few nights prior. You stood in line at the red carpet waiting to take pictures of the band of 5 Seconds of Summer. You had began a job of being a professional photographer for popular bands or singers like them and it paid well. The only downfall was the fact that you had fell head over heels for the front man who also had a girlfriend.

Luke Hemmings was all around perfect, especially in your eyes. The way he laughed at your jokes in order for you to take a good picture of him just made your heart stop. His eyes had always lingered on you whenever you were in close perimeter. His girlfriend, Chloe, was a stunning blonde with tan skin and a perfect white smile. She was drop dead gorgeous, but Luke just couldn’t help himself when it came to you. You weren’t famous, only the people in your pictures were, but to Luke you were something else.

As soon as the boys stepped out into the light, Luke’s blue hues scanned the crowd in front of him in search of your beautiful form. You had always surprised him with the dresses and outfits you pulled off at the red carpet walks, interviews, or photo shoots. Tonight; however, you had decided on tight leather pants and an off the shoulder white blouse which had paired with your skin tone perfectly. The shoes you wore had really thrown him off. They were thick, black stilettos that crossed over your feet and allowed for your hot pink painted nails to be shown off. Luke had always been a fan of how you highlighted the best features of yourself. That’s exactly when he decided on how he was going to fuck you senseless over the-

“Luke! Luke, over here!” The paparazzi screamed over the flashes of cameras from every direction. The only camera he looked at was yours.

“Well, that was a crazy crowd, Jesus.” Calum said while stripping himself of his suit jacket and plopped himself in the couch of your hotel room.

“Yeah, well the afterparty is going to be worse.” Ashton breathed out as he unbuttoned the top few buttons of his dress shirt. You had your laptop out at the desk with the memory card inside it, scrolling through the hundreds of pictures you took for the night in order to send them to management for the band.

They had officially hired you for the full time job for their photographer early last year so, you had made it your full duty to make sure they got the best pictures and publicity you could. Ever since you got the job, the guys instantly made you feel like you were a part of a family. They were your best friends and you couldn’t be any happier.

“Crystal and I are going out for dinner tonight.” Mikey said as he fixed his hair in the mirror. “And no, I’m not skipping.” He adds before his friends could convince him otherwise.

Luke took this as his chance to speak up. “Yeah, I’m going to skip out on the afterparty, too. I haven’t gotten that much sleep lately.” Your eyes dart over to the blonde just to see that he was already staring back at you. A blush made its way to your cheeks as you turned back to your computer.

Calum and Ashton rolled their eyes. “Guess it’s just you and I tonight.” Calum said with a sigh.

“Alright, well we’re gonna head out then.” Ashton announces before ushering Cal out the hotel door. Mikey bids his goodbye as well before he’s out the door as well.

Arms reached around the back of the chair, wrapping themselves around your shoulders as lips pressed against your jaw. “Real smooth.” You joked and closed your laptop before sliding around the chair and standing to your feet. You were then pushed back down, but against the bed this time and a gasp left your lips. Luke was smirking down at your vulnerable form while your elbows were the only thing giving you some sort of angle to look at him better. You stared up at him through thick lashes innocently, waiting for him to do something. His hands ached to touch you through those leather pants, he just didn’t know what he was going to do yet.

Instead of waiting on him, your hand reached out to grab his own and placed it over the leather material between your legs. Luke’s body shuddered with pure excitement as he lowered himself over you against the bed. An elbow plopped down beside your head as a hand stroked your (h/c) hair out of your face. His eyes bored into yours and for a second, your heart beat changed pattern. You had silently hoped that his did the same as you smiled up at him. The smile that got him weak in the knees, which led to his next step of pressing his lips against yours.

You could feel him growing hard against you as he pushed himself farther against you. Luke pulled away from your lips only to leave kisses down your jawline. There was something about the way he was acting tonight that was different than any other night. Instead of dwelling of the thought, you cleared your throat.

“Is something wrong?” You question while running a hand through your hair.

“You know I got somebody so I can’t fuck with just anybody.” Luke mumbles next to your ear which causes your cheeks to heat up. What is he saying? “But sometimes I get lonely.”

You’ve heard those words before, and it only made you angry. It meant that he and his girlfriend had been arguing. She might’ve been pretty, but she was manipulative and often left Luke a drunk mess, but ever since he met you, he hasn’t touched a drop. You were his distraction, and he loved it. He loved how you made him feel important, and needed. Chloe was independent and would rather spend her time with friends at the club than to have a night inside in bed next to Luke with a movie playing, or to go out to dinner.

“Lu, you know you can always come to me.” You soothed. Although it made you guilty that he was cheating on his girlfriend, you were also glad because there had been so many rumors about her cheating that you’d believe it. He kissed your lips in response and lost himself against you. In that moment, you cupped his face in your hand and flipped so that you were now straddling his waist. In a swift movement, he pulled the blouse you wore over your head and to the floor. A grin took over the frown on his face as his hands roamed over your curves.

Your hands reached down and began unbuttoning his dress shirt as well as his pants while he shuddered under your touch. A hand reached behind and groped your rear, pulling you against the hard body beneath you. “Hold up.” Luke says while pushing you up to a standing position. He then curled his fingers on the inside of your leather pants and yanked them down your legs. A blush made its way to your face as you laughed. Luke then lifted you from the ground, wrapping your legs around his waist before putting you on your back. He fit in between your legs perfectly. You reached a hand down in between you and pulled his pants down just enough down his legs as he moves the lace covering you to the side.

Kissing him, you muffled the sounds of your moan as he pulls himself out of his boxers and enters you. He pulled away and placed his forehead against your own, looking in your eyes. “Fuck, Luke.” You breathed out while looking down between your bodies as he pumped in and out of you. His white teeth shined down at you as he grinned. With a swift movement, he wrapped his arms around your torso and flipped so that you were now on top of him.

“Ride me, (y/n).”

You did as told, wincing as his nails dug into your hips. It hurt, but you loved it. He knew how he made you feel while he fucked you senseless. Speaking of, he reminded himself what went through his head at the red carpet. Before he could get too close, he quickly pulled out of you. “Lay over the desk in front of the mirror.” He demanded. This excited you, so you hurried over to the spot he told you to. Grabbing the edge of the table, you tilted your head to the side in order to look at him.

“Like this?” You asked, but he shook his head. He entered you again causing a gasp to escape your lips. Luke reached around your head and wrapped a hand around your throat, forcing you to look in the mirror.

“Like this, I want you to watch me fuck you senseless.”

“O-Okay.” You stuttered, unable to contain yourself as the feel of his hand around your throat caused a different kind of feeling in the pit of your stomach.

He then began to thrust in and out of you at a fast pace as the desk bumped against the wall repeatedly. There was sure to be a noise complaint. And thank god the rest of the band decided to go out for the night. Your climax began to draw closer as he drilled into you.

“Are you close?” He asked, getting close as well. You nodded, unable to form words as he watched you in the mirror. “I wanna hear you scream, baby.”

“Fuck, Lu.” You cursed while adjusting yourself as the desk dug into your skin.

“Louder, I want everyone in the hotel to hear you scream my name.”

“What about-”

“(y/n).” He warned. You were nearly tipped over the edge as his hand tightened around your neck and your stomach flipped.

“Luke!” Your strangled voice screamed nearly at the top of your lungs as the two of you came together, him filling you up. After a few seconds, he let you relax before pulling out of you to get stuff to clean up. He disappeared in the bathroom, and soon came back to help you clean up. Leaning against the desk, you watched as he wiped the liquid from your skin.

“We’re gonna have to go to the pharmacy before they close.” You mumbled embarrassingly. You often had to make a trip there in order to get plan b.

“I know, why do you think I got out clothes for you to change into?” Looking over, you saw a small pile of folded clothes which belonged to him causing your heart to melt.

“Thank you.”

“You know, I can’t leave her right?”

Frowning, you nodded. “I know.”

“L.A Confidential.”

You nodded again and sighed. “L.A. Confidential.”

#lukehemmings #luke hemmings imagines #luke hemmings smut #5sos smut #5sos #luke 5sos #5sauce

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janetbrown711 · 4 years ago

Note

"how do you think this ends?"

Despite Lena’s hopes and dreams that when the morning came everything would feel as right in the world as it had when the little family had fallen asleep, it wasn’t true. When she awoke (for whatever reason, she was the first), she walked out of the room and was immediately surrounded by maids and servants pestering her with their endless questions. Of course, she knew why they were asking, she was supposed to be dead.

She did her best to explain the situation and told them that her mother had died in an avalanche at Acme Falls. This, however, made the situation worse, as then officials and advisors soon got word and started to try and plan things out with her, and Lena wanted none of it. It was early- hell, she was still in her nightgown and robe. She just wanted to take an early stroll around her home, but nope.

Then again, what did she expect? Come back from the dead and people are going to have questions.

Still. Being swarmed with questions and having plans and ideas thrown in her face that early was too much. She yearned to return to bed, but by the time she successfully convinced them to stop, it was likely too late.

So instead, she went to the kitchen and began to chop up some fruit, a skill she had gotten quite good at over the past year. She couldn’t do a lot, so she liked to help Helloise and Doctor Scratchnsniff prepare food, usually while they talked about things. Now all Lena could think of as she chopped was that of her offer.

She had written a letter last night asking for their assistance. In all honesty, she was ashamed. She thought returning home would do a lot to heal everything they went through over the past year, but Dot’s nightmare quickly told her otherwise. Because of her nativity, she had to write a letter offering and asking them to come to the palace to be the royal psychologist and counselor not just for Dot, but likely Wakko and perhaps even Yakko too. Goodness knows all of her kids must’ve been through hell under the care of her mother.

Lena paused and placed a hand on her cheek. She sighed.

Lena continued cutting fruit.

She hoped they were hungry- she was making a lot- goodness.

Well- she knew Wakko would be anyway. Her poor boy... he was so light to carry. Angelina must’ve locked him in the tower before the Wishing Star, and probably didn’t feed him.

Her mother deserved far, far worse than death.

But it was what needed to be done. She didn’t regret it. Not one bit.

Hopefully, they’d use all this food for the picnic they’d be having-

It was still winter. Snow was outside. They couldn’t have a picnic.

No. They’d just have one inside. It’s what Wakko wanted- who was she to take that away from him?

She continued to cut, despite realizing she lost count of how many kiwis, strawberries, and star fruit she had sliced by now.

“Mom?” Wakko came out of nowhere, startling Lena and she cut her finger.

“Gah- Jesus Wakko, you can’t sneak up on me like that,” She quickly began to suck on it and look for a towel.

Wakko froze, dead in his tracks.

“I-i’m sorry, I-i didn’t mean to- I-i-” He stumbled over his apology.

“It’s alright, Wakko, I’m not-” But by the time Lena said that, he had run out of the kitchen.

“Dammit, Lena, now look at what you’ve done,” She muttered to herself, wrapping a rag around her finger and running off to go find Wakko.

Day one and she was already screwing up.

“Wakko? Where are you?” She called, looking under hall decor, behind curtains, and in almost every room she walked by.

“Wakko, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap like that,” She said, hearing sniffles come out of one bedroom. Lena knocked on the door softly.

“Wakko?” She said.

“I-i said I’m sorry, go away!” He shouted back.

“Wakko, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize, it was I who snapped at you,” She placed her hand that didn’t have a towel around it against the door.

“Go away! I only get people hurt,” He cried more.

“Wakko honey, no,” Lena wanted to go in, but the door was locked.

“Wakko, whatever your grandmother told you, she was wrong. You’re such a wonderful kid- energetic, compassionate, brave, and you give the best hugs,” She countered his statement. The prince paused.

“B-but it’s my fault D-dot died... they were aiming for me,” He countered, his words becoming mumbled.

“Wakko, it’s nobody’s fault but your grandmother and she’s already paid the price,” She said.

“She can’t hurt you anymore... so please... come out? I promise I’m okay.”

Wakko was quiet. Lena bit her lip.

“If you come out you can have a snack in the kitchen,” She said. Wakko must’ve responded positively to that because before she knew it there were shuffling noises, and he opened the door, though unable to make eye contact with his mother.

“I’m hungry,” he said.

“I know honey, let’s get you some food and water- I bet you’re dehydrated too, especially after all that crying,” Lena said, offering her hand. Wakko took it.

“Yeah,” was all he said. Lena gave his hand a comforting squeeze as they made their way back. Once there, she lifted him on the counter and started slicing more fruit, everything from apples to bananas, and handing them to him once finished. He ate slowly, but it seemed to be doing him a lot of good, as his mood increased dramatically once he got some food in his system.

“You feeling better?” She asked him. Wakko nodded. “Good,” Lena smiled and ruffled his fur a little. Lena always found it funny how he often liked to sleep with his red hat on, but who was she to judge.

“Now honey, I want to make things very clear with you: everything your grandmother ever told you or made you feel is false okay? I don’t want you saying it, I don’t want you thinking it. You are so much more than she ever thought, understood?” She placed her hand on his cheek, stroking his face with her thumb. Wakko leaned into it, nodding.

“Okay,” he agreed. Lena smiled softly.

“It’s not gonna be easy to undo what she’s done... but we’re going to figure it out together, understood?” She said. Wakko nodded again, eating an apple slice.

“I haven’t told your siblings yet, but in roughly a week's time, the good doctor from Acme Falls is going to start working at the palace to help you three heal from the abuse my mother put you through. He’s an emotions doctor and he’ll help you feel better, does that sound like something you want?” She said, going back to cutting fruit.

“Okay,” Wakko nodded, his tail twitching curiously. “What about you?” he asked.

Lena paused. “What about me?”

“Will he be helping you?” Wakko asked innocently. Lena looked down at her hands, then at the 20 or so fruits she sliced this morning.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I’m going to have a lot more responsibilities than what I’m used to in the upcoming days- I’ll likely be too busy.”

“But you should be okay too,” Wakko frowned, reminding Lena of how observant he could be.

“I’ll be okay Wakko- I promise,” She looked at him. He scanned her face a minute before either believing it or just dropping it and going back to his apple slices.

After a moment of more slicing and handing to Wakko, Lena spoke again.

“We’re going to be having a picnic today, just like you wanted,” She said. Wakko’s face lit up.

“Really?! Isn’t it snowy?” Wakko tilted his head.

“We’ll be having it inside, but I think that hardly makes a difference. What do you think?” Lena asked him.

“Okay,” he gave a toothy grin.

“Good,” Lena nodded. “How about you go and get dressed and get your siblings ready so we can do that soon, hm?”

“Okay,” He said, jumping off the countertop, and scurrying out of the kitchen.

Good. At least he was somewhat back to his old self. That meant there was hope after all. He was still a kid- he deserved to be happy and young while he could.

With a sigh, Lena began to get bags out and put the sliced fruit into separate bags as kitchen workers started to come in and began preparing their breakfast. Once Lena finished, she quickly apologized and got out of their way, explaining what was going to happen later with the picnic and all. They understood, and she left.

Now she was on her own again. And still in her nightgown- Lena really needed to get changed. Quickly she went back to her room and went to her closet to get dressed but her fingers hovered over her dresses. It had been so long since she wore something so fancy... Would it even feel right anymore?

Of course it would, she was born a princess, she was just being ridiculous... right?

Lena sighed and changed into her usual purple dress.

Today was going to be interesting.

.o0o.

And interesting it was. Home for less than 24 hours and already advisors and courtiers were already throwing piles upon piles of papers onto the poor queen-to-be. After signing about fifty billion documents, she finally got them to leave her alone, stating she made plans with her family she fully intended to keep. Thankfully, since she was in charge, nobody argued otherwise, though she knew they were likely doubtful. She did her best not to dwell.

By the time she did finally join her family in the room they were having their picnic, Wakko and Dot were already finished with their food and running around chasing each other, nearly running into Lena as she stepped in, though they both paused to give her a hug before running off again.

“My, they’re energetic today,” Lena chuckled as she joined her husband and Yakko on the pillows.

“Last night was probably the best sleep they’ve gotten in a while, nightmare or not,” Yakko shrugged, eating a piece of bread.

“I don’t doubt that... I slept pretty well last night too,” William said mostly to himself, looking at Wakko and Dot fondly.

“It really has been a year, hasn’t it?” Lena looked at Yakko, sadness in her eyes. “We’ve missed so much...”

“Not a whole lot... I mean- there were birthdays and stuff, but not... well...” Yakko was reluctant to finish the sentence, but Lena understood perfectly.

“Not much good, no?” Lena sighed. “I’ll never forgive her for this... for any of this.”

William and Yakko nodded supportively.

“But... Dot’s birthday was nice. I even managed to sneak a cake, and we all had a big sleepover, which was fun,” Yakko said. Lena smiled a little.

“That sounds lovely,” She said, sipping some tea.

“It was,” Yakko smiled at the memory.

“Oh! And we continued teaching Wakko to read,” Yakko remembered to tell.

“Really? Oh, that makes me so happy Yakko,” Lena side hugged him.

“We were so worried that Angelina wouldn’t let him and he’d forget,” William admitted.

“We had to do it behind her back, but I definitely think we made progress,” Yakko smiled, proud of himself, and rightfully so.

“I’m absolutely thrilled to hear it. You did a very good job taking care of your siblings in our absence Yakko, I’m very proud of you,” She kissed the top of his head.

“Thanks, mom,” Yakko teared up a little, and he quickly wiped it away. Lena didn’t comment, smiling softly.

“I’ll never forgive her for this.” The thought repeated in her mind. Anger returned.

“So, what took you so long?” Yakko asked.

“Paperwork. I’ve a coronation to set up by the end of the week after all,” She tried to laugh at the dread facing her.

“What about Grandma’s funeral?” Yakko asked.

“She isn’t going to be getting a funeral,” Lena said.

William blinked. “Are you sure that’s best?”

“Doesn’t every royal get a funeral? I mean- she even held one for you two...” Yakko said quietly.

“It’s unprecedented yes, and will perhaps even look bad to the people. However, once we explain everything that happened, I’m sure the people will be more than happy and most importantly on our side,” Lena sipped her tea.

“I guess that makes sense,” Yakko shrugged a little. William sighed.

“Lena darling, I know it must be difficult, but she was the queen after all-”

“She committed treason on the highest offense, William.” Lena snapped.

“I know, but well- hasn’t she already paid the price?” He said in a hushed tone, even though Yakko was still right there.

“It’s not that I think she deserves one, Lena. I’m just concerned that the people won’t understand and that it’ll cause them to turn against you,” He clarified softly, touching her arm. Lena swiped it away.

“I know full well what I’ve done,” She stated sharply. “And I don’t regret it. Let the people be upset if they will, they’ll get over it.”

Wakko and Dot stopped running by then, now looking at their parents, confused.

“Lena, darling, perhaps we should take this outside,” William sighed. Lena looked at her children before sighing and nodding.

“We’ll be back shortly... carry on until we get back,” Lena said, placing a hand on Yakko’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze before standing up and going. William followed in suit.

William stood by the door a moment, making sure they weren’t listening in. Lena paced across the hall, holding her arms.

“Well?” Lena asked him.

“Well, what?” William questioned her harshness.

“Well, what’ve you to say? You asked us to leave the room and we’ve left, so what’ve you to say?” She asked, digging her fingers into her arms.

“Lena darling... I just thought perhaps it wasn’t best to discuss such matters in front of the children,” William said softly. That didn’t make Lena feel any better.

“William, I’m tired of pretending I care about her,” Lena looked out a window. “I don’t want to waste a year of my life wearing all black and veiling myself pretending to weep over what I’ve lost. I can’t even fathom pretending to care a day,” She admitted.

“Of course,” He nodded slowly. The queen-to-be glanced at him.

“You aren’t going to argue otherwise?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Lena darling, I love you with all that I am. I trust your judgment. I’m simply trying to look out for you, that’s all,” William went to her.

“I love you too William,” She said. “I just... I know what I’ve done. I don’t regret it.”

“My dear... you keep saying that,” He took her hand and kissed it.

“It remains true,” Lena took a step away.

“Lena, who are you trying to convince?” He asked honestly.

“I... nobody,” She said quickly.

“Lena-”

“Nobody, William,” She closed her eyes and turned away from him.

She didn’t regret it. Her mother had to die, and by her hand.

There was no other way.

“There was no other way,” She said aloud.

“My love, you’re trembling,” William worried.

“She didn’t love me. She never did- even as a child. She shouted, she pulled the flowers out of my hair, she grabbed me, she blamed me for Father’s death, she... she hurt Wakko, she locked him up like some animal and then she... she killed Dot. She had to die, William,” She still didn’t look at him.

“I know darling...” He approached her slowly.

“A-and even if she had loved me at one point... if she brushed my hair, or sat with me in portraits, or picked out a dress she saw me admiring, it doesn’t matter. She killed our baby girl... she had to die,” Lena looked him in the eyes, though the sympathy was almost too much for her.

“My love, I know... What you did was incredibly difficult,” William said, wiping a stray tear from her face.

“Why though? Why was it difficult? After all that she did to our children, it should’ve been easy,” Lena argued.

“Lena, I do not know,” He sighed, stroking her face with his hand softly. “I’m not a psychologist or anything of the like... but I assume it’s because- well... she was your mother.”

“Hardly...” Lena muttered to herself.

“Despite everything, she still was. You can’t deny that,” He said. “And despite everything, you’ve always been slow to retaliation, so of course it’s taking a while to process what you’ve done.”

“I thought you said you weren’t a psychologist,” Lena joked a little. William chuckled a little.

“I’m not dear... though perhaps you really should take up Scratchnsniff’s offer,” William said.

“I wrote for him last night. He’ll do the children lots of good,” She said.

“That’s not what I meant,” William gave her a look.

Lena paused, sincerely thinking about it.

“I’ll be woefully busy... I’ll hardly have the time,” Lena said.

“We’ll make the time,” He countered.

“William- I just... I don’t know...” She turned away.

“Lena... please? I worry about you,” William held one of her hands in his and gave it a squeeze. Lena said nothing.

“My dear, you deserve to be at peace. Ever since I met you you were burdened by your mother’s actions, and now that she’s gone, you can finally find peace,” He said with a small smile. She could hardly look at him now.

She was an adult. Almost queen. She should be able to handle this on her own.

“If not for yourself, then can you at least do it for them? For...me?” He pleaded quietly.

Lena looked at the door a long moment, practically seeing her children leaning up against it (which she knew they likely were).

“William I don’t know if I can find peace...” She whispered.

“Can’t we at least give it a try, my love?” He whispered back. She looked at him. His eyes... those warm, dark, familiar eyes had brought her so much love and comfort over the years. So much love and worry...

Lena knew she’d do anything for him.

“I can try,” She nodded slowly.

“Really?” He smiled a little.

“I’d walk through hell and back for you, my love,” Lena placed a soft hand on his cheek. “I think I’ll be able to believe in myself a little for you too.”

“Thank you,” He kissed her wrist before pulling her in for an actual kiss, which she gladly returned.

However, the kiss didn’t last too long before a chorus of voices behind the door grew louder and before they knew it, the door opened, Yakko, Wakko, and Dot spilling out with it.

“Darn it Dot- you got us caught,” Yakko shook his head.

“Haha... hi,” Dot sheeped. Lena rolled her eyes.

“Mind telling me why you were listening in to what was supposed to be a private, adult conversation?” She teased, helping them up and off each other.

“Uh... curiosity?” Wakko shrugged. Lena laughed.

“Can’t deny that I suppose,” She ruffled his fur. Wakko smiled up at her with his tongue sticking out. She missed that smile.

“Well... the day isn’t over yet... what do you three want to do?” She asked.

“Can we hear a story?” Dot perked up and asked.

“Yeah! A story!” Wakko agreed. Yakko snorted, giving his silent agreement.

“It’s nowhere near bedtime,” William said. “What are we going to do then?”

“We can handle two stories,” Dot rolled her eyes. William chuckled.

“That you can... that you can,” He said, stroking his mustache.

“How about this: I’ll tell you a bedtime story if you’ll help me out with this one, hm?” He offered, winking at Lena to boast his cleverness. Lena rolled her eyes.

“Okay!” The younger warner siblings said in agreement.

“But first we have to clean all this up- can’t be leaving everything out like this,” Lena remarked, going back into their picnic room. Quickly, the children ran in and began picking up any toys they had brought in, folding blankets, and putting back pillows where they belonged, while Lena and William dealt with the food.

“Quite the plethora of fruit you prepared for us this morning,” Willaim commented as he cleaned.

“I do it when I’m stressed,” She shrugged. “You know this- you were there.”

“I know,” he teased. “They were very good.”

“I didn’t grow them,” Lena rolled her eyes, teasing him right back.

“It’s our garden. I think we ought to have some claim,” He shrugged. Lena rolled her eyes again.

“You say that like we don’t get most of our fruits from the farms-��

“Actually, we get our apples and citrus from the farms. The starfruit and berries were from the garden,” Yakko snuck up from behind, folding a blanket.

“Who’s side are you on?” Lena gave him a look. Yakko laughed.

“Checkmate,” William grinned.

“I hate you,” She snorted, putting the bread into a bag as Yakko disappeared to put the blanket away.

“You love me,” William elbowed her lightly. Lena chuckled and continued to clean without comment. However, a thought slowly dawned on her and she paused.

“Lena..?” William noticed.

“Sorry, I’m just... thinking,” She shook her head and continued.

“Thinking of what?” He asked.

Lena thought about how best to say it.

“I suppose... well... I don’t know. I just-... Do you really believe any of this will ever truly be over?” Lena asked him.

William sighed. “I really hope so... it may not be today, or tomorrow, or even the day after, but in my heart I know one day we’ll finally be truly happy and free from her and her effects.”

“What do you think it’ll be like when that comes?” She asked him. William smiled.

“Well... I imagine there’ll be dancing under a sky full of stars. Music playing softly in the other room, while we just have all the time in the world to ourselves, knowing Yakko, Wakko and Dot are safely tucked to sleep- or even if they aren’t we know they’re safe. They know they’re loved, we know we’re loved, you know you’re loved,” He said, a far-off look on his face indicating he had given this thought before. Lena smiled.

“Dancing under the stars... I’ve missed that,” She agreed with him.

“Perhaps we’ll even go to the garden. We’ll sit on our bench by the fountain where I first proposed to you and we’ll just sit and reflect on the good times we shared, and the good times yet to come. It won’t be the end, after all. There’ll still be a lifetime ahead of us,” He said. Lena closed her eyes, envisioning it.

“That sounds lovely,” She smiled and opened her eyes.

“One day,” He said with a wink.

“We’re doneeee, can you tell us the story now?” Dot ran up to them, grabbing William’s leg. He laughed.

“Alright, c’mon,” He said, peeling Dot from his leg and picking her up instead. Wakko went to Lena and held her hand. She gave it a comforting squeeze, not that either was nervous. Yakko walked on her other side.

Together, the family all went back to the familiar playroom and settled in for storytime with Dad.

Effortlessly he weaved a tale about a beautiful princess, a handsome knight, and a fearsome dragon. Had it been done before? Of course, but it was the audience’s choice and they missed the cliché. He spoke of everlasting love, the princess and the knight saving each other numerous times, and eventually how they lived happily ever after and created a land of prosperity, peace, and love- unlike the age of the Dragon. It didn’t take a genius to figure out his inspiration for such a tale, but it was interesting and exciting nonetheless.

After that, Lena and William played with Yakko, Wakko, and Dot with their dolls, playing a game similar to the story, but with its own twists (like the Princess being fire breathing and could transform into a giant lion and the knight was secretly the God of Thunder) until it was eventually time for diner.

After that, William read them a bedtime story, this time of a lonely siren and a sailor who nearly drowned, which captivated Wakko and Dot easily, though Yakko was tired, and barely awake by the end. Then, they checked for monsters for Dot (a new concern of hers), after which Lena sang them their lullaby and they all went to sleep.

And so several days passed in such a way. Lena would spend her mornings over paperwork and giving signatures and statements and writing to other kingdoms in preparation for her coordination while William watched the kids, and in the afternoon she’d join them for lunch and for some quality family time until it was eventually time to sleep and the cycle would start over. As much as she hated the paperwork portion of her days, she couldn’t deny the quality time made up for it. Seeing her children slowly regain their spirit filled her with more happiness than she could ever describe, especially with the help of Doctor Scratchnsniff.

Ah, yes. Doctor Scratchnsniff. At first, the children were hesitant to meet with him, but after Lena and William offered to sit in with them for their appointments (for the first one, at least) they agreed.

Dot seemed to be liking him, though she found him and his accent strange at first. However, the doctor reported she was already off to a good start and even after meeting twice he said she was making good progress. That was good to hear at least. The sooner her PTSD was gone, the better.

It was evident Yakko liked him less so, but Lena and William weren’t surprised by that. His issues were with being fiercely independent and untrusting so naturally, it was going to take a while for him to open up, which they were okay with. They had all the time in the world now.

Wakko, however, never wanted to be alone with him. He always had Lena sit with him through his appointments, either clinging to her arm, or sitting in her lap the whole time as she stroked his ears or rubbed his back soothingly. He hardly spoke a word at first, which was expected, but the doctor didn’t seem to mind. Hopefully, progress would be made with time.

Lena eventually found time to make an appointment of her own. It felt... odd, to say the least. She was used to the loving and kind support from William, but opening up to Scratchy was a different feeling entirely. She didn’t have to fear what he thought, as he was trained to listen and help. She liked that.

What she liked less was reflecting on her childhood. So many feelings and emotions and twisted memories she didn’t know how to look back on. He said this was natural for victims of childhood neglect and abuse, and she couldn’t deny that.

However, she was processing now. Moving on, as he described it. Acknowledging what happened was the first step, moving on was the next. It was... interesting. Then again, these were only the beginning steps. She still had lots and lots of work to do, but she had all the time in the world.

The days passed in such a sequence, that the day of her coordination threw her off guard. Heck- she had hardly noticed that when she had awakened, maids and dressers were immediately there to get her in the gorgeous cerulean blue, and gold dress they had made for her. It wasn’t until they were trying to comb through her hair she realized the day was special. Sure- she wasn’t normally dressed by handmaidens, but in all fairness, she had just woken up.

Oh god- it was finally happening. Important guests from kingdoms all over were going to arrive to watch her rise to the throne and accept her fate and destiny as the next queen of Warnerstock.

Hell- it felt like Lena blinked and suddenly she was waiting for the doors to open so she could walk down and accept the crown and say the lines and well- get coronated as Queen. She was wearing the nicest gown she’d ever worn in her life, and her ears were unbound, as she was no longer wearing her princess crown anymore.

“You ready Mom?” Yakko asked, adjusting his fancy little outfit. Lena thought he as well as the rest of the kids looked adorable, though it was clear he was rather uncomfortable with the lapels and sash. Still- that didn’t stop Lena from wishing she could get a portrait of him done.

“Hopefully,” Lena laughed through her nervousness.

“You’ll be great, I know it,” Wakko grinned up at her. Lena smiled at him, before noticing his sash was on the wrong shoulder and she fixed it.

“Yeah! You’re super nice and pretty and you’ll be a great queen,” Dot encouraged.

“You’re too sweet, darling,” She thanked her before standing.

“You’ve nothing to worry about, my love,” William placed his hands on her shoulders. “We have your back, it’ll be okay.”

“I’m the luckiest queen-to-be in the world,” Lena chuckled.

“Yep!” Wakko agreed.

“Your highness? They’re ready for you,” said one of the officials. Lena took in a deep breath and nodded.

“Well... let’s go,” She gave them a nod. Her family gave her quick grins and thumbs up, before the door opened, and the ceremony officially began.

The ceremony went perfectly as planned. Not a word nor person was out of place. She recited the vow of protection and service perfectly, didn’t flinch when the cold metal of her new crown touched her head, and even managed not to flinch at the mention of her full name (though she could still feel the internal dread of it). She recited her speech to the people perfectly, gaining their understanding and support with her carefully crafted yet heartfelt words, and eventually, the ceremonies were over and the festivities began.

Quickly, the children ran into the outdoor courtyard with many of the other royal children from nearby kingdoms, and music began to play. However, this wasn’t the stuffy, snooty music her mother would’ve chosen for her coordination, no. This was Lena, and she chose something exciting. A new beginning. Songs that make you kick off your shoes (if you wore those) and dance in circles until you pass out from exhaustion you didn’t know you had because you were too busy being swept away by the fun of it all. Lena danced with her new subjects and partners in foreign policy all day, and even a bit of the night as the sun eventually went down, only stopping when the feast began, or the band needed a break, but then returning right away.

She hadn’t felt this alive in years, and Lena was determined to never let it go. This was what freedom was. This was what life without her mother’s control could be, every day. People laughing, cheering, celebrating, being together and safe and happy.

People were happy.

Lena was happy.

Yakko, Wakko, and Dot were happy too, even mingling with children from neighboring kingdoms, with Yakko even finding himself fascinated with a certain dog prince that she and William gave a quick thumbs up to, embarrassing him deeply. Eh, he’d get over it. They were back, and that meant embarrassing him to his crushes- even if he just met them that night.

Wakko and Dot were having fun dancing, and drawing chalk on the ground. Wakko proved himself to be quite the artist, as while he danced he dragged and drew with his tail, and before anyone knew it the whole floor was a Wakko art piece. Sure, it may have stained their feet, but it was truly something to behold. Dot, on the other hand, was chatting with other princesses and citizens, charming them with her classic wit and cuteness that made Lena proud.

And William? For the first time in what felt like forever, he seemed to be enjoying himself too, the worry that was constantly behind those deep, dark eyes she loved so dearly being practically gone. Instead, joy and excitement, as well as love was shining back, as he spun and lifted and danced alongside her to the exciting music of the band. The couple had never felt so alive and free.

Eventually, though, all good things come to an end, and guests slowly began to leave, saying their quick goodbyes to the new Queen, wishing her luck, and promising their loyalties and hopes for the future. It saddened to see things coming to an end, but eventually, the band began to play much slower, softer music, and William took her hand in his and they slowly began to sway under the starlight.

“I told you you had nothing to worry about,” William smirked.

“I know, you’re always right, blah blah blah,” Lena snickered.

William laughed. “I’m serious though, I’m extremely proud of you. You’ve come a very long way for it being less than a month since returning.”

“And here I thought it was already a year,” Lena joked, referring more to the neverending piles of paperwork she managed to go through in such a short time than her time with her loved ones.

“Lena, I mean it. I’m incredibly proud of you,” William made sure she knew it.

“Thank you, dear,” Lena kissed him. “I couldn’t have done this- any of this without you.”

“I know,” He said with a small smile. Lena snorted a little, before stepping closer and leaning against him as they swayed together.

“How’s this for a perfect ending, hm?” he asked.

Lena thought about that, looking around the more than half-empty courtyard.

Wakko was curled up into a ball on a pile of pillows nearby a firepit, looking perfectly warn out and warm. Dot was drawing with chalk next to him, looking half asleep as well. Yakko was telling a story to his new friend, though it was very clear that friend was going to have to leave soon, but whoever was in charge of the boy clearly didn’t have the heart to break the two up, which Lena couldn’t say she blamed them for. They were cute. Kids- but cute.

Then she looked back at William. The love of her life. The man who never once left her side and carried her through the worst moments of their lives, and somehow made it out alive. She kissed him again.

“It’s not completely perfect... but it’s a damn good start,” Lena smiled.

“A damn good start indeed,” William grinned.

And it was a damn good start. After all, Queen Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca the Second was married to Sir William the Good, and had three beautiful children she loved more than anything in the world. Her mother was dead, and couldn’t hurt any of them anymore. There were no more secrets, no more lies, and no more abuse.

Together, the Warners were entering a new era; an era of peace, of love, of great healing, and great togetherness. After all- the old queen was dead, proving once and for all that nothing could or ever would keep them apart for long.

They were together now, and together the Warner Family was unstoppable.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 The End

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slytherinsnekxvii · 3 years ago

Text

hi, remember that murder snily au i'm always talking abt but never have anything to show for? yeah, i've scrapped it like six times now and i finally have a version of it i'm marginally satisfied with. so, here you go, this is the first part of maybe three or four, i think? have fun:

anger

/ˈaŋɡə/

noun

noun: anger; plural noun: angers

1. Normal anger does not split open one's ribcage and wind itself around their heart. Normal anger does not coat itself in venom and sit behind one's teeth and hide under their tongue and lie patiently in wait. Normal anger is not cold and slow and remorseless. Lily thinks that what she calls anger is normal. Lily does not realise that she is extraordinary.

Lily's brand of anger is decidedly... different. What, exactly, makes it so different isn't exactly obvious to her, but she knows that it's not like anyone else's. At least, not as far as she's aware. Hers is a cold sort of anger, an all-encompassing thing that bites and burns and hurts. It's patient, too, winding in and around her ribcage and clawing its way upwards to settle behind her teeth, waiting for a reason to show itself. It's protective, aiming to eliminate a threat before it has a chance to do further damage.

She's... aware of her anger. Not very much so, but it's seen the light of day often enough to be familiar to her. She doesn't know it, though, hasn't made herself properly acquainted with the more... unfortunate spectrum of her emotions, and that is what makes it truly dangerous.

When she feels something scratching at her insides and festering beneath a vindictive sort of justice at seeing Black and Potter and Lupin and Pettigrew suffer the displeasure of the Slytherins, she thinks it's anger. She finds herself in a dusty, unused classroom in the dungeons, helping to refine a brutal spell designed to rend the flesh of anyone unlucky enough to be on the wrong end of it and she thinks it's anger that curls around her and whispers into her ear, "Make sure it hurts."

It isn't. She calls it anger, claims it a necessity, insists that she's protecting her best friend, but she doesn't realise she's mistaken.

The story of the "Prank" gets out—doctored, of course, to keep Black out of Azkaban, and Lupin away from execution—and Lily titters into the back of her hand when she hears it told in bits and pieces throughout the corridors.

"Did you hear?"

"Who would've thought—"

"—bloody idiots went into the Forest! At night! What kind of—"

"—ll five of them, yeah. Can't figure out for the life of me how they managed to get Snape to go—"

"—must've dragged 'im kicking an' screamin', I'm telling y—"

"—Gryffindors, my left tit! Damn cowards just ran off and left Lupin and Snape to deal with—"

"—no clue what happened, but have you seen the scars?"

"—out of the Hospital Wing, already? How—"

"—down fifty points! All because that lot wanted to play jokes aga—"

She smiles, a tiny, smug thing that she doesn't notice, and moves on. The Slytherins are properly riled up now, Rosier and Mulciber and Wilkes and Avery hovering around her and Severus with expressions she can't describe as anything but sadistic. At some point, she realises that their presence makes her feel much less uncomfortable than it did a week ago. She doesn't dwell on it, ignoring the small part of her that worries and shivers in favour of leaning over Severus's shoulder to read about the sort of magic that appears in nightmares.

She grips her wand, idly twirling the twelve-and-a-half inches of willow and dragon heartstring as she skims over detailings of ancient, arcane magic. It's always about blood, she thinks, staring a diagram of a pricked finger dripping red into a cauldron. Potion for Transferring Magic from One Wizard to Another, the heading proclaims. She shakes her head, accidentally knocking into Severus's in the process. "Ow."

He winces a little, and then tells her, "I'm turning the page."

She hums, eyes glued to a book she wouldn't dare look at not even a week ago, and says, "Okay."

It's fascinating, Lily has to admit. Gruesome in some cases and horrific in others, yes, but there's something... mesmerising about it, something hideously captivating in the way that the diagrams seem to eagerly demonstrate their attached spells. On the page, a young wizard is neatly flayed alive, the entire process precise. Her stomach rolls, but Lily can't seem to tear her gaze away for even a second. She doesn't think about it.

She doesn't think about a lot of things, actually, staunchly refusing to acknowledge the way she finds herself drawn away from her Housemates and friends, instead choosing to orbit around her best friend and the seemingly endless rotation of Dark Arts tomes he's somehow gotten his hands on.

Mary's sick of her excuses, she knows, responding to every one with a nod and an, "Oh, alright, then," in that tone that lands somewhere in the middle of disappointment, exasperation and concern.

Marlene has given up entirely, the whole of their interactions reduced to simple greetings in the hall and nods when they pass each other between classes.

Dorcas is nice about it, still catching her arm on the way to breakfast, still offering to study with her when they're all together in the Common and she doesn't want anyone to feel left out. It's undeniable, though, that her smile isn't near as warm as it used to be and it's tinged with worry at the corners.

No one makes it a secret of what they think about her recent activities. And as for the company she's keeping? Well, they'd always been particularly vocal about that.

Things must come to a head eventually, and they do, not even ten minutes after Professor Sprout has dismissed them from the classroom on Wednesday afternoon. She hears the whispers first, half of them from students she doesn't even know, has never said a word to.

"—conspiring with snakes—"

"—think it's the first time I've heard of a Gryff going Dark—"

"—ck was right about her, she's got no—"

Something ugly twists in her chest, and she forces her feet to turn and move, one step after the other. She can make it to the Common Room reasonably quickly, she thinks, and then she catches the self-proclaimed Marauders outside the Great Hall. Or rather, they catch her.

"You can do better than a bunch of slimy snakes, Evans," Potter crows, and she stops dead in her tracks. "Why bother with them when you've got a fine piece of Gryffindor right here?"

"Get lost," she says, the words ground flat between grit teeth.

Potter does not get lost. "Come on, Evans," he continues. "You're not acting like a proper Gryffindor. Where's your House loyalty? I can guarantee that chivalry and bravery are much better than whatever they're offering." It sounds... like a taunt, and this is when Lily realises that what she's been feeling isn't anger.

"Chivalry? Bravery? What would you know about any of that? It's not very chivalrous to corner students four-to-one, now, is it?" She hisses her words, each one more scathing than the last, and as she spits them out, every last one dripping venom, she realises that she wants it to hurt. "And it certainly doesn't seem brave to leave behind someone who needs help because you got cold feet! I'm not a proper Gryffindor? No, I think you've got it wrong, James. If you want to see an improper Gryffindor, the whole lot of you can go right ahead and look in a bloody mirror! I will not be talked down to by the likes of spiteful little cowards like you! I'm more Gryffindor than all four of you put together, but if you're what our House is supposed to look like, then I want nothing to do with it!"

Her ears are ringing when she's done, the whole world narrowed down to one singular focal point, the group of boys headed by the one who'd been desperate to get her attention and regrets it now that he has it. She looks at each of them in turn, summoning a contempt she didn't know she possessed until now. "Save your breath," she snaps, when Black's jaw unlocks, and she turns around and walks away.

Something slots into the place at the back of her mind, and she thinks, oh, her fingers itching to wrap themselves around her wand and whisper the words that will turn them inside out, call the blood from their pores and make it sing. Something clicks, when she thinks about she felt just then, and she can tell the difference quite clearly, very easily, between pure, white-hot, blinding rage and what she's been calling anger. She doesn't know what it really is, and she doesn't want to. She doesn't think about it, either, simply pushes the entire realisation to the back of her head and thinks, oh.

It changes... very little. Something inside of her has changed, and she finds herself growing steadily more unbothered by the voice in her that tells her about old, forbidden magicks of the body and the mind and the blood. It's always about blood.

She doesn't bother reading over Severus's shoulder anymore, the two of them scribbling notes as the pages flip on their own once they've both finished reading.

What does change things is when Rosier corners her after Defence one day, a sealed envelope held in his hand.

"What's this?" Lily asks, eyeing the pristine letter suspiciously. She might get along with the Slytherins much better now—especially after the incident with the Marauders that Rosier had found particularly amusing—but she can't say she truly trusts them.

"An invitation," he says, and before she can speak, he continues. "Every rule has its exceptions. We'd thought there was only room for one Mudblood prodigy, but it looks like there's space for two."

"Don't call me that," she bites, and he waves the envelope at her.

"Think about it. As it stands now, men like Potter and Dumbledore are holding too many of the cards. Men who would let people die and then cover it up to save their own hides. Don't you want to see them get what's coming to them?"

"There's no difference between you and them," she says.

"Isn't there? We've never claimed to be good."

She stares at him, silent.

"It's a new age, Evans. Don't you want to change the world?" he asks.

She takes the envelope.

anyways, i hope you enjoyed that! thanks for reading :)

#fic #murder snily au #severus snape #lily evans #harry potter fanfiction #darkfic #i mean not yet but it will be #anyways #that took wayyy too long #it took me so long to get to this point it's not even funny anymore #but i'm glad i did #getting my shit together seems likw a pretty solid birthday present to myself i think #snily #anyways bye for now #also i have the same birthday as draco malfoy and i found that put via tiktok #gotta love it

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the-melting-world · 4 years ago

Text

Strength | Side B: “Chasing Dials”

Art by @ligiawrites

~ In which a secretive barhand brings in the new year…

The Trio Appearances: Kipling | Khleo | Ozy

Arcana LI appearances: Asra | Nadia | Lucio | Valdemar

Track Origins: “Chasing Dials” by Blanco White

Not sure if this is the right track? The full album can be found here: Strength

Khleo is Non-binary and uses she/they pronouns interchangeably

cw: alcohol, implications of vampirism, mentions of blood

~ 2.3k words

***

Fireworks broke and rained hot glitter over the southern border of Center City and Goldgrave. A handful of bartenders were off duty and on the move.

Khlee von Heine walked among them. She was the only one who hadn’t taken the time to change out of her work clothes. Her coworkers were loud, merry, and prone to recklessness as they stumbled from one pop-up bar crawl to the next.

“Another year,” Gabe managed to roar over the next round of fireworks. “Can you believe we fucking did it?” He took a deep swig from the communal growler. The night was far from young and the barhands had lost track over how many times they refilled it. Gabe reluctantly handed it off to the next coworker so they could say their piece.

Khlee hung back in order to stand under a wooden arch whose sign was eclipsed in dead vines. But Khleo had committed its message to memory years ago.

Der Biergarten.

The plot of land overgrown in weeds and other invasive species was still up for sale, to Khleo’s relief. Though it was out of the way on most of her delivery routes, Khleo did her best to stop by every now and then. Just to make sure no one had bought up the property.

The barhand checked to see that her coworkers were distracted as she stepped up and snatched a flyer with the lot info off the gate. She folded it up and quickly tucked it in her pocket before the arm of a good friend looped around her neck.

Basil leaned on Khleo as he pressed the convex surface of the growler against her sternum.

“Your turn.”

Khleo playfully shoved him off of her, but kept the growler. She took a sip. Basil and the other barhands chided her — she was supposed to make a toast.

“Fine. Fine.” Khleo held up the bottle. “To progress.”

They made a show of peering into the depths of the amber glass. “Maybe this year we’ll get lucky and actually make some, yeah?”

Someone snatched the growler out of their hand. Gwendolyn? Max? The streets were too dark to tell.

Khleo’s friends were off. They blended in with the city’s bar crawlers as they chased down the next booze cart. People wanted refills that night, not whatever Khleo was about to say next.

Later when Khleo had returned to her apartment, she traded her work clothes for something softer and more comfortable. Then she dug through the pocket of her discarded jacket and retrieved the folded up flyer.

It was a short walk from her kitchen to the bedroom. There was no bed frame or vanity, just three lumpy mattresses stacked on top of each other that she rescued from the alley when she first moved in.

The room was already small, but it felt even more congested thanks to the uneven piles of text, of which there two types — loose leaf recipes or pages ripped out of cookbooks and cheap serial novels with depictions of bejeweled dragons on the covers.

The only piece of real furniture around was an antique dresser, the drawers of which were broken and jutting out like crooked teeth.

All except one.

Khleo took a deep breath before crouching and using both hands to work the bottom drawer open. Like always, it did not come quietly, but with a little patience and a lot of swearing, Khleo managed to pull it out.

Most of the drawer’s contents belonged to her late adoptive father, Hans von Heine. However, it was an unmarked jar that Khleo reached for. She screwed it open and tucked the flyer for the piece of real estate between old flyers and newspaper clippings back when the garden used to host events. The jar had cash in it too. Whatever Khleo could spare went into the jar. Most of it came from what was left of her tips after paying rent, bills, and whoever she needed in order to keep certain people off her back and out of her business.

Khleo sealed the jar and did her best to ignore the tightness in her chest as she struggled to get the drawer to shut all the way. Once she had, she found that her breathing had become more than a little unsteady. It only got worse when she heard the fireworks going off outside.

Khleo shut their eyes and leaned their forehead against one of the crooked drawers, trying not to dwell too much on where they were this time last here. As it turned out, they were right here, drunk and crying at the foot of this very dresser.

Khleo curled up on their side. Yes, tonight their head was buzzing from the alcohol, somehow both heavy and light. Yes, the tears had found their way to the surface again. Khleo was never one to hold them in as long as they could find the space to spill them.

Things would be different this year, Khleo told themself. They would make sure of it this time.

***

(Lucio’s POV)

Lucio hated the smell of this place. Rotting and damp. It was hard to believe that they were still in Vesuvia.

“You always have such a sour expression on your face whenever I come to feed. Why so, my Count?”

The silky, sardonic voice belonged to Lucio’s host, Quaestor Valdemar.

“Don’t call me that,” Lucio snapped. He wanted to fold his arms and stifle some of the shivers running up his back, but he couldn’t as long as he was hooked up to Valdemar’s device.

“My apologies, Lucio,” Valdemar corrected themself coolly.

Another shiver climbed up Lucio’s neck as he bit back the urge to say, I don’t want to be called that either.

“Tell me, what plagues you?” They added with a chuckle. “Don’t you like your living arrangement?”

Ever since cutting a deal with the scientist turned demon, Lucio had been living out his days in the lowest cellar of the Lazaret. When he was first brought back from the Devil’s realm, he had been too weak to demand anything else. At the time, all he cared about was that he was alive and wouldn’t be devoured by the courtiers.

Lucio glanced at the tube looping around his forearm, its transparent pathways already inflated with his blood.

But at what cost?

Lucio grinded his teeth. It was too late to consider that now.

This was how it always went anyway. Lucio would be presented with an opportunity — a way to improve what he could not on his own. He would leap at it, no questions asked.

Why, after all this time, after all those treacherous dealings could he not bring himself to stop and think things through?

As the last of Valdemar’s toll left his body, Lucio started to wonder what his mother might say about all of this. But he’d rather eat another shitty bargain than go down that road right now.

“Your contribution to our arrangement hasn’t been as satisfying compared to when we first began.”

“What are you trying to say?” Despite his nasty tone, Lucio was grateful for the distraction. “My blood’s not tasty enough for you?”

“It used to be,” Valdemar said. “I’ll be honest with you, Lucio, I agreed to keep you around as an energy reserve primarily for that reason. The notion of devouring you in one sitting and having to share with my dear contemporaries was not nearly as attractive as the possibility of having your flesh to dine on whenever I needed to during this indefinite campaign in your current reality.”

Lucio hissed as Valdemar unceremoniously removed the needle from his vein. He wasn’t sure how to react to what he had just heard. Thanks to Valdemar’s mask, all Lucio could read from their expression was the growing crow’s feet at the corners of their blood red eyes.

“So?”

Valdemar applied a cotton wad to the puncture wound and dug it in with their thumb.

“Ow! Hey – Owie!” Lucio yelped.

“So, my Count,” they sweetly clarified as they kept up the pressure, “I need you to find a way to restore that vitality you once possessed. Technically, you’re in peak physical health. I don’t know if you’ve looked in the mirror lately, but the evidence of your tussle with the plague has all but disappeared from your eyes. Your hair has been growing…” they took a moment to scan their critical gaze over the pale blond patches clinging to Lucio’s jaw. “You could easily blend in with the citizens.”

Lucio swallowed. “B-blend in? Why the devil would I want to blend in?”

Valdemar made a less than human sound as they peeled back their mask and bared their needle-sharp teeth at the former Count.

“Right now you taste like a boneless, gutless, gill-infected inferior breed of mackerel. And I prefer to have rare, mercury-rich, vinegar-glazed bluefin tuna. Captivity is poisoning your blood. So I’m giving you permission to get out there in your beloved city and find a way to sweeten it.”

The Quaestor gave Lucio a not-so-gentle shove in his chair. They replaced their mask as they straightened up. The former Count’s eyes widened as he covered his hand over his arm. The last thing he wanted was to piss off Valdemar. But he didn’t know the first thing when it came to what they were asking him to do.

“What happens if I can’t, erm… make my blood taste better? What if spending time in the city doesn’t work?”

The Quaestor sighed, their emotions back in check. They were already half occupied with cleaning their instruments and storing the sacks of Lucio’s blood in a portable cooler for later.

“Then I will have no choice but to invite my courtier companions over for a nice potluck dinner.” They glanced up. The crow’s feet were back. “And you’ll be the forgettable appetizer that no one asked for.”

Later, when Valdemar was kind enough to row Lucio across the stretch of water to the mainland, they suggested, “You should find some people who are very healthy. Outside of captivity, fish are the most robust when they’re in competition with other capable anatomies.”

Lucio hugged what was left of his royal uniform – a tattered speckled cape – around his shoulders. He grumbled, “Would you, for fuck’s sake, stop comparing me to a fish, Quaestor?”

Unperturbed, Valdemar said, “We’ve arrived.”

Lucio lowered his hood and blinked out at the morning overcast sky. His top lip curled into a distinctive snarl as he recognized where they were.

“Not here. Anywhere but here.”

Valdemar gestured to the nearest dock. “Get out, Lucio.”

The former Count wanted to blot out the images of the slumped architecture and purge his nostrils of the stale watery stench.

“Not the Flooded District. I can’t stand this place. Can’t you see that it’s a failure that I don’t need reminding of?”

“Lucio, don’t be so foolish,” Valdemar said almost tenderly as they nudged him out of the boat. “The entire city is your failure. Much of which is hard to see. Oh, but it’s there. Now go on,” they said as if encouraging a child at the fairgrounds, “go find someone healthy. I’ll come to retrieve you in a fortnight’s time.”

Lucio couldn’t believe he was watching Valdemar row off into the mist. He tried to take a deep breath, but the air was so bad that he just ended up coughing.

Even though Valdemar had been correct about Lucio’s appearance, looking nothing like he did in the days when he was the Count, he still found himself trying to crowd off his features with his hood any time a resident passed him by on the floating, rickety streets. But to his relief, no one seemed to know or even care about who he was or might be.

As soon as Lucio relaxed his shoulders and began walking with more confidence, the inner walls of his stomach suddenly contracted. Then he remembered. He had just given blood. Lots of it. Usually, the Quaestor supplied him with something to eat, but this time they hadn’t.

“Damn them,” Lucio hissed. He cradled his abdomen like it was made of glass as he tried to make his way towards some kind of common plaza. He had no money, but perhaps he would be able to find a dumpster to rummage through.

He was passing by a narrow alley when he caught a glimpse of the impossible out of the corner of his eye.

A lion.

Its coat was creamy and short all over. Its size was nothing short of mythical.

Lucio was tempted to shout at the two idiots occupying the alley with this beast on the loose, but they seemed both aware of its presence and entirely calm about it.

One of them was slumped against the wall of the grimy building. Despite their threadbare attire and weary expression, they were smiling at the other.

“No, Khlee. Please don’t. You’ll be late for work.”

The person squatting before the first seemed to be focused on the task of sewing up what appeared to be rips in a heavy cloak. Even with their short jacket, Lucio could detect the shape of their arms. Their brown curls had enough volume to hide most of the details in their profile.

“Nah. I’m already late. This’ll only take a minute.”

There wasn’t much time to take in the rest of their features before the big cat stepped up, blocking Lucio’s view of them.

< Can I help you? >

Lucio ran. He nearly tripped over himself getting out of there so fast. But he didn’t go far. He gripped the edge of a building and poked his head out, waiting for the lioness and her human to emerge. When they finally did, Quaestor Valdemar’s words from earlier echoed in Lucio’s mind.

Go find someone healthy.

Well, the individual strolling confidently down the street with a full grown lion at their side was definitely looking like the healthy sort.

At the moment, Lucio wasn’t really thinking about what would happen to him if he failed Valdemar’s taste requirements.

Right now, his stomach was hurting.

If the body of this lion tamer was any indication, they knew where Lucio could find himself a meal.

#the arcana #khleo the barhand #arcana albums: strength #arcana albums #count lucio #lucio #lucio the arcana #quaestor valdemar #valdemar #valdemar the arcana #montag morgasson #the arcana fic #the arcana fanfic #the arcana fanfiction #my writing #cw alcohol #cw blood mention #cw vampirism

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godsofhumanity · 4 years ago

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aight @xdeusxmachinax you asked for it.

let me introduce y’all to my cronus x rhea AU <3 i could go into a LOT more detail,, but i think i should probably just leave it at whatever’s under the cut, because otherwise it’ll literally go on for several pages.

for the record, let me just say that i did this uquiz to determine what kind of fanbase your characters would have and for my characterisation of both Rhea and Cronus, i got “people will not shut up about how they deserve better”, so that might give you a little insight into how i’ve imagined them...

so we all know the usual Gaia-got-fed-up-with-Ouranos’-bs-and-decided-to-kill-him story... well, i haven’t changed that part, it still fits in the story

here’s where we get into my AU- Cronus, in this version, while cunning, is also pretty noble and brave.. that’s why when all his siblings are a little hesitant to fight Ouranos, Cronus steps up and gives everyone a pep talk about how they can’t continue to live in oppression like this and how they need to stand up for themselves and fight to save the world from Ouranos’ tyranny

Gaia’s pretty proud of her son’s courage, and awards him the scythe, and with the Titans now invigorated with new-found pluck, they agree to follow Cronus’ leadership and help him defeat Ouranos.

at first Cronus doesn’t really have bigger plans for the future- he knows that he needs to defeat Ouranos, but after that? who knows.

that is- until he has a little aside with Rhea. now, in my AU, Rhea’s a bit of a girlboss, and while nothing’s really official between her and Cronus, it’s pretty obvious that they’re an item, even though they haven’t said anything.. anyways, Cronus thinks that it makes sense for Oceanus, their eldest brother, to become king after Ouranos, but Rhea tells him that he should be king, because he was the only one who didn’t hesitate when it came down to deposing Ouranos.

and the other Titans agree with Rhea, including Oceanus. it’s clear to all of them that, despite Cronus being the youngest, he’s the leader of the Titans, and they’re all happy to follow him because he’s a good guy.

anyways-- fast forward to the actual battle, and there’s a little incident that occurs where Ouranos tells Cronus that he’s a fool, etc. and, seeing the way Cronus looks at Rhea, Ouranos tells him that Rhea will eventually betray him the way that Gaia betrayed Ouranos- and that, as his father, it’s his duty to look out for his son’s best interests, and then Ouranos kills Rhea in front of Cronus (oh yes, we love us some tragic love)

but Cronus loves Rhea so much, he can’t deal with the idea of her dying, so he prays really hard, wishing that he just had a little bit more.. time

and time actually reverses to just a few seconds from before Rhea was killed!!! Cronus is still a little hazy about what happens, so he’s unable to save Rhea (again) but he tries to reverse time again, and he ends up going all the way back when the Titans had first gathered together to come up with a plan to kill Ouranos, and now Cronus is fully aware that he’s a god of time (he didn’t know before)

so now with his cool time powers, stuff happens, and Cronus defeats Ouranos, and he takes over from him, becomes king with his pretty girlboss queen, Rhea, and everyone’s happy.

UNTIL! Hestia is born not too long after, and at first, Cronus is really fucking happy to have a daughter.

but then the more he looks into his daughter’s big baby eyes, the more he begins to think about Ouranos’ final prophecy to him- that a child of Cronus’ will rise up against him and depose of all the Titans.

and eventually, Cronus can’t take it anymore- he and the Titans worked so hard to depose of cruel Ouranos- Cronus even lost Rhea a few times in the process. under Cronus, peace and justice has been restored, and the kingdom is happy. and now some spoiled brat is going to come along and destroy everything?? Cronus begins to see little Hestia as a threat,, not because he doesn’t want anyone else to be king, but because he doesn’t want the peace in the kingdom destroyed. so, when Rhea leaves the house one day, Cronus decides to swallow Hestia whole, and that’s that.

Rhea returns and is, understandably pissed off with Cronus, but Cronus explains to her everything, and at this point, Rhea still loves Cronus, and he still loves her. She finds it hard to believe that such an innocent child could do all this harm, but she has faith in Cronus, who had previously liberated them from Ouranos, and while she doesn’t like what happened, she convinces herself that it’s just a one-off thing.

But then Demeter is born, and the same thing happens. Then Hera, then Hades, and by the time Poseidon is born, Cronus has become a completely different person- he’s cold, he’s paranoid. Now he doesn’t even try to comfort Rhea. and Rhea herself has become so distraught over the loss of her children, and she absolutely despises Cronus and what he’s become.

she goes to Gaia and begs her mother to relieve her of the pain of living with a madman, but Gaia tells her that she can’t, because Rhea is with child again. but this isn’t good news for Rhea, and she begs Gaia to just take the child from her,, that she can’t bear it. Gaia takes pity on her daughter and reminds her of the prophecy about one of her children deposing of Cronus and tells her that the child within her will save the land and his siblings.

this is pretty shocking to Rhea because she thought this whole time that her children were dead. but upon learning that they’re actually still alive and can be brought back, she’s renewed with energy, and decides that it’s time to take Cronus down.

then it’s just the usual Cronus swallows a stone instead of Zeus, and thinks nothing of it, and Rhea gives baby Zeus to the nymphs to care for.

fast forward to several hundred years later- Rhea goes down to the nymphs to visit Zeus for the first time in her entire life, and there’s an emotional heart-to-heart between her and Zeus, who has heard so much about his mother but never met her.

and Rhea tells him about her plan to free Zeus’ siblings and depose of Cronus. and Zeus is super pumped and excited and he’s like, “hell yeah i HATE that guy!” and Rhea tells him that she doesn’t hate Cronus at all- she hates what he’s become, and that she needs Zeus to fulfill the prophecy so that Cronus doesn’t have to bear the burden of being king anymore- Rhea doesn’t love Cronus anymore, she hasn’t for sometime, but she does feel pity for him, and she refuses to continue watching as Cronus poisons himself.

anyhow, then Zeus meets Cronus and they fight and all Zeus’ siblings are rescued, and eventually Cronus himself is defeated, and he’s weakened by the fight, although he’s not dead.

Zeus, for his mother’s sake, imprisons Cronus in Tartarus, not with the other Titans who had sided with Cronus, but in one of Nyx’s caves, where he dwells forever, sometimes receiving prophecies and stuff.

Rhea lives with Zeus and the rest of the Olympians in Olympus, occasionally providing her counsel, but for the most part, she’s just retired and living the good life <3

and that’s it! congrats if you read all the way down to here ^-^

#lolol if you're wondering why i've thought so much about this it's because i was actually going to make this into a comic #who knows.. maybe i will #i have lots of ideas... but no time ://#replies #hc #rhea x cronus #oc tag

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frustrated-writer-skyeknight · 4 years ago

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Afterstory

Read here

For a moment, can we just talk about how Tony pretty much claimed a home not his as his new boyfriend’s family’s home? This kid is living the thug life lol.

"Thank you for letting us stay here, till the next birthday, Frederick. Oh, and do tell if you're planning on snacking on the humans. I call dibs on the adorable munchkin."

Rudolph placed a hand on his forehead, with Tony hiding behind his shoulder. "Auntie, for the last time; they're friends. Besides, we have that 'no biting humans' rule, right?"

"Wasn't that for before? When we were lying low, right?"

Frederick chuckles, "Regardless, the rule still stands." he says.

"We just made our peace with the mortals," Freda interjects, "no need to start it up again." she says.

After the interesting events that transpired for the last three days, Tony managed to convince his parents to prolong their stay, and the Sackville-Bagg family got used to their new home and the old couple more or less come to terms that the vampires are not so bad. It took a while and a whole lot convincing (Anna not to do it using her spell, included.) But after a few nights, and with their necks still free from being bitten, they came to a compromise, thanks to Tony; that every Halloween, the family would act out and role play to attract some tourists annually, insinuating that they would be moving statues or vampire actors, similar to the attraction in Disneyland, so that The Bed and the Breakfast could attract more tourists. Tony was already begging his parents to let him take a week off from school to come visit during Halloween for their debut. Rudolph was just glad that the old humans let his family stay without reporting them to any vampire hunter.

Considering they got Rookery thrown into a mental asylum with his claims of vampires are real, it wasn't really a problem. Nevertheless, Frederick and Freda found that they liked their new home.

The Thompsons were more or less accepting the fact that vampires exists at all.

Tony Thompson was more or less psyched about the entire thing. Definitely more.

(Except when Rudolph's relatives tried biting him the first few times. But that was an understandable exception.)

────────────────────────────────────

Rudolph and Tony were now hanging out in the human's room. Apparently, Rudolph hasn't chosen a room for himself yet. While his friend was there, he decided to stay with him. The only change was that they got an actual coffin for Rudolph now. They were exchanging stories... well, the vampire was. Tony's sharing was mostly information, some explained in anecdotes. Half the time, he had to stop in the middle of it to explain some expressions.

"Okay, how about this." Tony starts, nibbling on some chips. He got Rudolph to fly him into the nearest town to buy snacks that this castle was severely lacking. "he looks like one, and she looks like one, but just to confirm, is your father an alpha, and mother, an omega?"

Rudolph frowns, scratching his head. He was only familiar with that term when it came to werewolves, and even he hasn't met an actual one yet. "My parents are vampires; those terms are used on those canine creatures. A counterpart to our patriarch and matriarch term referring to male and female heads of family."

"Ah, no, no. Not that kind of alpha, omega." Tony said, waving his head dismissively. "Hmm, maybe it doesn't really apply to vampires, anyway. I can explain it better if we just have some internet, and I can show you this link that popped out on my Facebook News feed just before coming here..."

Every time Tony says something, Rudolph has a new word to learn. "Facebook?"

"Oh, and this is what we call Facebook." Tony explains, showing the vampire his phone and pointing at an icon. "I can't use it right now because I don't have any data, and this castle doesn't have any internet. Well, yet. I heard mom and dad convincing those old folks to get it installed since tourists would be expecting that in order to post on their timeline. Or Instagram it, which is getting popular these days."

Rudolph nods, "Hmm, interesting technology. But," he frowns, "what is internet? And... 'Instagram'?"

"Heh, we should have one day where I dedicate explaining internet and apps alone." Tony chuckles, "Basically, it's some special features on a this device we call mobile phones."

Rudolph examines the device, "So these days, humans don't use phones for calling?"

"We do, but we also use it for other stuff. Like... Well, just think of it as... a very advance phone. You've seen phones, right?"

Rudolph hums, "A bit... But yours is way different than what I saw before father moved us to the vault, and pretty much just stayed there since. So I never really got to use it since I wasn't human anymore by then." he shrugs.

"Huh, human..." Tony repeats, thoughtful. "you say that... So that means you weren't a vampire from the start. And your parents...?"

Rudolph turns to Tony, "Still my parents. Only ones I've ever known, anyway." He says, "Whoever my parents were, they couldn't keep us. Too poor, or so Gregory remembers. I definitely don't remember, not after being turned anyway, only wondered if I've ever met them at all. Gregory was the only one who really cared for me and Anna, till our parents, the ones now, took us in."

"Oh, I didn't think that... I'm sorry, Rudolph."

However, the vampire just raised a brow at this. "Why do you apologize?"

"Well, it's just that... You're technically all dead, after all." Tony points out, "and it's a shame; somehow... you never got to meet your parents."

Rudolph just shrugs, "Don't know if it even counts as being dead, we still sort of do what the 'alive' does. As for my birth parents, well, no point on dwelling on what I never knew. Older brother was sent to the workhouse at one point. We never saw him again until after he was turned, and had father change us as well so we could be a family with Frederick and Freda Sackville-Bagg. Those were my parents then, and they're still my parents."

"Well, if you say so," Tony manages to smile, "it's kinda cool, that you all look alike even if you aren't related. Well, to your parents, that is."

Rudolph shrugs, "Father says that those turned tend to develop some semblance to the one who turned them." he says.

"So how about your parents then, who turned them?"

"In their case, they were born as vampires." Rudolph told him.

Tony frowns, "Born... As in babies?" he repeats, "I thought vampires don't age. Aren't you guys stuck the way you were when you're turned?"

"How do you explain me being thirteen then?" Rudolph made a look, "of course we age, just differently. Have you seen my aunts and uncles?"

Tony scratched the back of his head, "Yeah, that did raise some questions for me." he admitted. "But how does aging work for you guys? I mean, I really thought vampires were immortal. Timeless."

"We are immortal, in the sense that time means nothing to us." Rudolph waves a dismissive hand, "as for why my aunts and uncles look like who you humans would call the 'elderly' is because of the blood they've consumed. I don't drink blood except for animals', both mother and father haven't had a drop since... well, since they turned us."

Tony raised a brow, "Blood ages you?"

"Not exactly. We choose the form we wish to stay as, which is why I've been thirteen all my immortal life so far. It's a bit like that expression you said the other day, uh, 'Time flies when you're having fun?' Did I say it right?"

Tony nods, "So... you guys don't age when you don't have... fun?"

"No, not that either. But it's like the breeze, sometimes you don't notice it among other more visible things in your surroundings. Especially in our case, nothing special ever happens, as if we're stuck doing the same thing all over again when the next moon rises." Rudolph tells him, "Basically, we can choose not to rush our aging. According to Gregory, mother was in the form of a fifteen year old till she met father." Rudolph says, "But human blood, while a pleasurable nourishment to us, also acts like a drug. Likewise, too much of it weakens the willpower needed to maintain the form of our choice." Tony still looks thoroughly confused. "All right. Think of it this way. You mortals have lifelines, think of the numbers of age a human would miss out on once they're drank, or turned." he explains further, "the 'growing old' part of mortal living transfers to the vampire who drank it's blood. My aunts and uncles can no longer will themselves to maintain a youthful appearance because some of them drank too much human blood. Then again, not so bad a thing; that's why our clan is so big. However, for the same reason, father and mother don't like having human blood as much anymore, Well, aside from the initial plan of maintaining a low profile. They prefer and are contented with their form right now."

Tony nods, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I get it now... I guess." he says.

"Hmm, that reminds me..." Rudolph starts, frowning suddenly. "you're gonna die someday, too, right?"

Tony gapes, staring at his friend. "Wow, this took a bleak turn fast." he says. "But yeah, technically. Still young though, so my lifespan still has some ways to go." he elbows Rudolph. "you're gonna see me hanging around for at least a hundred years, if I'm lucky to live that long."

"Huh, yeah..."

Rudolph suddenly felt apprehensive, something he hasn't felt in a long time. That thing he dealt with when Rookery invaded his old home didn't compare. Even while he was afraid for his family, some small part inside him still knew he wasn't going to lose his family and maybe Tony had something to do with that small part. But the thing with Tony being human, like others, growing old and eventually dying, being buried while vampires wait for their bones to disintegrate to occupy their coffins... It left a cold ache in him.

He didn't want Tony to be reduced to that.

After being turned, Rudolph never knew anyone close to his age. Or sort of his age, in Tony's case. He had Anna, sure, but she was his sister. She was family, like Gregory was, and like the whole Sackville-Bagg clan was. But he never had a friend, a real friend like Tony. Someone who would go through lengths to help him without family ties and responsibility compelling him to. Even when they just met, and even when Tony didn't know exactly what he was getting into by fighting against vampire hunters, he still did. Because Tony had a good heart. Which was one of the things that Rudolph loved about him.

Loved? Rudolph blinks, shaking his head. He blushes, No, like... It's like. Friends like each other after all...

Which was why he was thoroughly annoyed with Anna, who tried stealing his friend with her spell, didn't even let it come naturally. Rudolph may not remember much of his old human life, but he does remember that it wasn't right. Besides, Tony was his not hers... his friend and not hers. And Rudolph knew there was only one way he could keep his friend for a very, very long time.

But Rudolph had a feeling that Tony wouldn't agree to that idea, not just yet. Plus, there were his parents to think about. And while Tony seemed to find vampires cool, it didn't seem like he wanted to be one himself. For one thing, while the blond enjoyed their night excursions, Tony would probably miss going out in daylight freely. He did want to drag him and Anna to swim down the lake earlier in the morning till he remembered that vampires burn in the sun.

So maybe not now, Rudolph thought. But... maybe someday.

Because for some reasons, after meeting Tony, even while he couldn't explain why, Rudolph couldn't imagine spending more than one hundreds without him.

"Hey look, I think the sun's going down." Tony approached the curtains, and opened them. True enough, the sun has finally set. He grins, turning towards Rudolph. "Hey, I just remember the old lady mentioning something about a natural hot spring somewhere up the mountains. Better than the chilly lake those jerks dumped me in last week; how about that swim, huh?"

Rudolph grins, getting on his feet. He walk towards the window and they both pushed it open. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's fly."

"Right on! Oh," Tony pauses, thinking. "how about your sister? She might want to join—woah!"

The blond didn't get to finish his sentence as Rudolph drags him out into the night.

────────────────────────────────────

The weeks of summer seemed like days by how fast they went by, and the next thing Tony knew, it was time to return to America. While he was disappointed that summer was coming to an end, like most boys his age would be, he was especially upset now. After everything he's been through... Everything he and Rudolph's been through, it was hard for Tony to imagine going back to his normal reality.

More to the point, it was hard that he needed to say good bye to Rudolph.

He's never had a friend, not quite like Rudolph, and not just because said guy was a freaking vampire. While he did have some friends back home, no one really understood his obsession with vampires. He didn't understand it himself, to be honest. Most kids his age didn't strongly believe in the supernatural anymore, unless they were conspiracy theorists or the like. But even Tony knew that wasn't it; he was drawn to the concept of vampires. Even his mom said his first word was vampire. (Vam-vam, technically.) And while he would cry easily when anybody tried scaring him when he was a baby, seeing vampire movies just made him laugh, even the not-safe-for-kids type of movies.

He even wished his future soulmate would be a vampire at one point, no matter how his parents kept telling him that they didn't exist.

Speaking of, it was almost his time for that. Although it didn't necessarily happen every single time, but a person would usually end up meeting a soul mate prospect by the age of fourteen, since fourteen was the age people usually started presenting their secondary gender. More often than not, the first prospect doesn't always work out because both individuals weren't mature enough to understand the concept of soul mates, so they break it off by mutual agreement. And just like that, the link is broken, giving the individuals freedom from the bond, and to find the next prospect without ties to the past. But the thing about soul mates is that the first prospect is the most ideal, if it was managed properly the first time.

Nowadays, most people don't end up with their ideal soul mates. Tony knew his parents weren't each others' ideals, after all. But maybe it came with his obsession with the supernatural, but Tony was hoping to get it right the first time. At first, he thought it had been Anna. But when he looks at her, when she wasn't looking back at her or talking to him to use her spell, he didn't really feel connected to her at all, not the way his mom would describe the soul link sensation.

Then again, he wasn't fourteen and has yet to present as a beta, like his parents, or the unlikelihood of being an alpha or omega.

"Tony, dear, hurry." Dottie Thompson calls out to her son, "we need to catch our flight."

Tony waves at her from where he still stood, near the castle's entrance. "Give me another minute, mom!" he turns back to the Sackville-Bagg family, but mostly Rudolph. "So, remember how to log into Skype. Cause that's the only way we're talking till next summer."

"Or Halloween." Rudolph says insistently.

Tony chuckles, "Fingers-crossed." he literally did just that. He saw the confusion on, not only Rudolph's, but the family's faces. "Oh, uh, it means... Something along the lines of 'Hopefully, it happens'."

"Oh, well, in that case," Anna smiles, showing off her perfectly white teeth, "Fingers crossed."

Tony smiles back at her, enchanted for a moment again. Gregory rolls his eyes before purposefully getting between his sister and the mortal, to which Anna made an opposing cry. Undeterred, Rudolph steps forward and holds Tony in an embrace. The first time the vampire did it, the human was too startled by the gesture to react, and maybe a little awkward. But this time, Tony returned the hug, finding that he was already missing the vampire, and he hasn't even left yet.

Rudolph pulled back first, "I'll see you in the skies." he says.

"It's Skype, but pretty close." Tony chuckled before stepping back, practically walking backwards to the car until finally reaching it. He inhales, and turns towards his parents. "Can I please—"

Bob Thompson sighed, expecting. "Your mom and I discussed it, yes, we'll let you off for Halloween IF" he pauses, "you get mostly A's or A+'s on your card before then."

"But that's—" Tony starts before sighing, "Fine." He gets in, and Bob drives off as the first ray of dawn starts showing.

The youngest looks back to the castle, already shrinking as they got farther and farther into the road. He wished to catch one more glance of his friend, but he knew the family already returned into the castle for refuge from the sun.

Soon... Fingers-crossed.

#The Little Vampire 2017 #Ao3 #RuDony #Rudolph x Tony #Rudolph Sackville-Bagg #Tony Thompson

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pandoraborn · 3 years ago

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Cruelty of the Beast - Part 18. -END-

( previous. )

-----

Characters: c!Tommy, c!Ranboo, c!Wilbur, c!Dream, c!Techno, c!Phil Word count: 2547 words Content: Death, rebirth, beginning, reset, an ending.

Thank you for sticking with me through this story! I had such a blast writing this. This last chapter might be a bit rushed, I don’t know, but I wrote down everything I wanted to write, and I think it’s a fitting end, for all of them. Thank you so much for reading each chapter and sticking with me, and please stick around for my other works! I have so many ideas planned and in the works and I can’t wait for you all to love them too. <3

------

There are too many thoughts swirling in Tommy’s head. One, the fact that he’s out of breath before they even make it to the crater. Two, that Ranboo’s eyes are eerily purple instead of the normal green and red he’s used to. The purple is the same shade as the magic coming from the dragon, but Tommy doesn’t dwell on it.

Three, Quackity’s body is still in front of his old house.

Gods, Tommy had really done that, hadn’t he? No wonder he’s out of breath. It’s not from running, he’s having a panic attack. Tommy doesn’t slow though, partially because Ranboo is still holding his hand and urging him forward. Tommy really needs to stop though.

“Ran,” he wheezes, tugging back. “I need...”

“Tommy?” Ranboo doesn’t let him go. Instead, the enderman is pressing up against Tommy in a way that with anyone else, Tommy would be screaming about personal space. With Ranboo though, he leans into the embrace. “Tommy, breath. Breathe. You’re okay!”

“What did I do?” Tommy swallows breath after breath, trying to steady himself. It’s not working, he’s seconds away from collapsing to the ground. He wonders if his lungs shrunk over the past several days, because this aches. “Quackity!”

“Tommy, shh.” How long has it been since anyone had actually shushed him? It’s almost patronizing, but Ranboo’s rubbing circles into his back. “You did what you had to do. It’ll be okay soon.”

Tommy bends over, resting his hands on his knees. Part of him wants to vomit, as if that will undo everything that had just happened. Part of him wants to slip away into some numb trance and stop feeling all over again. Neither option is happening, which means he’s stuck with this reality.

“Tommy, we don’t have much time. The dragon can’t stay forever.” Ranboo, while his voice is gentle, still has that underlying urgency. “You’re okay.”

“I’m not okay,” Tommy whispers. “I killed one of my friends. He still loved me, Ranboo. Said...”

“I know.” When Tommy looks up, Ranboo’s eyes are filled with emotion. It’s the way they’re drooping, the way his lips are curled downward. Tommy is struck with fear at that expression. If Ranboo is empathizing with him, then Tommy doesn’t want to think about the sacrifices Ranboo made. “I’m sorry, Tommy,” Ranboo continues. He leans closer, though now he’s pulling Tommy upright. “You breathing?”

He nods wordlessly. “Don’t have a choice big man.” He reaches for Ranboo’s hand again. It’s strange, how in a matter of days, Ranboo had become Tommy’s partner. He’s no Tubbo or even Wilbur, but he’s too important to Tommy anymore. When Ranboo’s hand finds his, Tommy squeezes, refusing to let go. “Lead the way.”

They start running again. How much time did Ranboo say they had? Minutes? How many minutes? Tommy isn’t sure he wants to know the answer, but he pushes those thoughts to the side when they approach what looks like a tunnel going straight down.

“Don’t worry,” Ranboo reassures him. “Wilbur made sure to put water on the bottom. It’s safe to jump.” He detaches himself from Tommy with a smile, before jumping into the hole. Tommy stares down, not at all reassured by this. He has no idea what’s even at the bottom, but then again, it’s probably leading to the bottom of the crater. Looking back over his shoulder, Tommy stills when he realizes the dragon is heading this way. It’s still breathing the magic fire. Tommy wonders why it’s coming this way, of all places.

“Tommy! You coming?”

Ranboo’s voice tugs him back to the hole. With a deep breath, Tommy jumps in, squeezing his eyes shut. He braces himself for a painful impact, but it doesn’t come. Instead, he hears a splash, and then the immediate sensation of being soaked. With a groan, Tommy hauls himself out of the tiny body of water, shaking his legs as if that will dry his trousers. “I hate this,” Tommy gripes.

Ranboo laughs and pushes him forward. “Come on, I want to explain the book to you.”

Book. Tommy had almost forgotten about that. His lip curls back in distaste. After what he’d just contributed to, Tommy isn’t sure he wants to handle more magic. They don’t have a choice, because Tommy doesn’t want to live in a world where everyone he once loved is dead. Plus, Ranboo’s eyes are still purple, and that has to mean something.

“Come on.” Ranboo takes his hand again and leads him forward. How does Ranboo know where they’re going? Tommy doesn’t know anything about the bottom of this god forsaken crater. He’d avoided it completely since Phil and Techno and Dream had blown up L’Manburg. That particular memory still aches. It still hurts, twisting in his gut every time he thinks of...

...thinks of how so many people had stood back to let it happen. He can’t even blame Techno and Dream completely, because he’s sure they’d have stood a chance if people had actually stepped up to fight with him instead of turning their backs on the country.

The memory aches, but shockingly enough, being down here doesn’t. Tommy almost feels neutral. He and Ranboo are surrounded by stone on all sides and it’s pitch black except for the faint glow of Ranboo’s eyes. It’s also eerily quiet. Above ground, there had been chaos and destruction. Down here, there’s nothing. It’s quiet, and Tommy can’t remember the last time he’d heard complete silence.

Maybe it’s an ominous sign, he doesn’t know.

“This way,” Ranboo whispers. “It’s so quiet down here, isn’t it?” Even he sounds unsure. Tommy gives him a sideways glance and sees the concern on his face. shrouded in darkness, but he can see the concern all the same. Hear it in the enderman’s voice as well. “You ever get scared?”

“Yeah.” Tommy laughs as they take a right turn. “I’m terrified, Ran.”

“Me too. Honestly, I have no idea what I’m doing, only that I feel safest around you.”

“Me? I’m the one that gave the green light for all this shit.” Tommy waves his arm around.

“Yeah, but it’s the way you did it. You were like, so confident. Like you were completely sure of yourself. I didn’t realize that maybe you were not so confident until...”

Tommy’s throat feels like it’s closing. There’s no going back, even if he wants to go back to the surface and check on the remaining damage. He wants to see who’s left, but maybe he’s better off not knowing. His stomach still hasn’t recovered from earlier.

“Where are we going?” Tommy asks, changing the subject.

“There’s another end portal,” Ranboo says solemnly. “Dream found this one, and the others are already waiting.”

Something isn’t adding up. They would’ve known if there was a stronghold underneath L’Manburg, so why would one appear now?

“We’re still surrounded by stone,” Tommy points out, confused. “I don’t see a stronghold.”

“I didn’t say stronghold,” Ranboo corrects. “I said end portal.” They finally come to a stop, and Tommy can see the glowing purple rising up from the ground. There’s more light here, too. It takes Tommy a moment to realize they’re near the hole. A couple steps forward and he could look up at the night sky.

Tommy rushes for Wilbur, wrapping his arms around him tightly. He holds back a sob, but can’t stop the trembling.

“We need to do this now,” Dream interrupts. The man pulls out a book, holding it out to Ranboo. It’s not a book Tommy had ever seen before. This one is glowing the same shimmering purple that matches Ranboo’s eyes. The pages all seem to be black, as well.

“Tommy,” Wibur says, nudging him. “You know what this is, right?”

“No?” He shakes his head, looking back and forth between Ranboo and the book. Above them, the dragon roars, blowing its magic down into the hole. “Uh, I think the dragon landed,” he adds.

“Tommy, I’m half enderman,” Ranboo explains. “My homeland is the end, where there is magic there that doesn’t exist here. Magic and creatures and lands and places that...” he trails off. “I had limited access to that magic before. I used this book to summon Wilbur when he was still dead.”

Tommy flinches at how casually Ranboo says that.

“I’d been going to the end for awhile before I got my memories back,” Ranboo continues. “Learning the magic, tapping into it, and taking this book with me. On one of those visits, I bound the dragon to me.”

Lifting an eyebrow, Tommy presses himself to Wilbur again. He’s not liking where this conversation is going, and he’s waiting for someone else to speak up. Any of them, but they’re all watching Ranboo. “Okay?”

“I bound the dragon to me,” Ranboo repeats. “For this exact purpose.” The enderman cracks open the book, flipping through the pages. He moves closer to the portal, and starts chanting.

Oh.

That’s why Ranboo’s eyes are now purple. It’s not just the dragon that changed him, it’s the end. Ranboo’s connected to whatever magic flowing through him. Tommy starts to move closer to Ranboo, thinking he can offer comfort.

Techno grabs him this time, tugging him back. “Wait,” Tommy protests. “I just-”

“Tommy it’s okay.” Ranboo stops chanting to smile at Tommy. That’s... not a reassuring smile. The stupid fucker looks sad again. “Tommy, I’ll see you on the other side.”

“Wait, I don’t understand!” Tommy is still struggling against Techno’s grasp, determined to get close to Ranboo. “I can help!”

“Tommy, he needs to destroy the dragon and unleash the end realm for this to work.” Who said that? Techno? Dream? Phil? It could be any of them. For a long moment, Tommy watches as Ranboo starts to glow that same shade of purple, the aura completely surrounding him and almost pulsing. Glancing upward, Tommy can see the same effect happening on the dragon. The dragon is utterly still now, staring down at the group.

No, at Ranboo.

“Wait.” Realization settles on Tommy like a hot wave. Blistering hot and uncomfortable, pooling in his stomach and making him ill. He’s going to throw up.

“Wait,” Tommy repeats, more weakly. He’s being dragged away again as the auras from both enderman and dragon grow even bigger. Ranboo is still chanting, voice echoing even more. He almost seems to lift up off the ground.

“Stop!” Tommy screams. “That’s going to kill him!” He struggles even more fiercely against Techno, who lifts him completely off the ground. “RANBOO, STOP!”

“Tommy, we have to go,” Wilbur whispers frantically. “Please, trust him, alright?”

“I didn’t agree to this!” Tommy sobs. “Ranboo stop! I don’t want this! I don’t want this anymore, alright? We can be a family here, it’ll be okay! Dream can revive everyone, it’s fine, Ranboo stop!”

No one responds. No one’s saying anything because it’s taking the combined effort of the remaining men to keep Tommy from running to Ranboo’s side. Tommy’s sobbing and screaming loudly, reaching out toward Ranboo.

“Ranboo please!” Tommy cries out. “I love you, don’t leave me! Please don’t leave me!”

“I love you too Tommy,” Ranboo says. His voice is a soft whisper that seems to brush against Tommy’s ears. As if he isn’t speaking verbally, but through thoughts and feelings. Tommy swears he can see Ranboo smiling at him. It’s hard to see anything through the tears.

“I’ll see you soon,” comes the second whisper. That’s all Tommy sees before his entire vision is taken over by that same glow.

Tommy hears rumbling, and he can see faint outlines of the others rushing ahead. There’s no telling where they’re going, but Tommy feels static, like his entire being is on the verge of being struck by lightning.

The static feeling seems to increase, growing louder and louder until he can hear nothing but an ear-splitting buzz, and then he’s falling.

Tommy wonders if those are Wilbur’s arms around him, or Ranboo’s.

-----

Reality comes back to him slowly. He’s pretty sure this is what death feels like. Or the afterlife? He doesn’t know.

When Tommy wakes up, he’s laying on a patch of grass. He’s on his side and sprawled out uncomfortably. Next to him is Phil, who’s in process of sitting up. Phil looks around with a grimace, before hauling himself to his feet. When he stands, he then seems to notice Tommy.

“Tommy, you’re okay!” Phil breathes slowly, collapsing back to his knees. He reaches out for Tommy, brushing some dirt out of Tommy’s hair.

Sitting upright, Tommy looks around. “What...”

“We died, Tommy.” Dream moves closer, followed by Techno and Ranboo. “Well, the other version of us died. Look around.”

Tommy does. Ranboo is sitting by him and holding him, already whispering apologies. He can see the SMP before anything was built. There’s the lake where the community house should be, but the building is not there.

They really did reset the world. Tommy can’t tell if they traveled back in time or if they’re in a brand new world. He’s not going to waste time thinking about it when Ranboo is here again, holding him and very much alive.

“The others will arrive,” Dream says softly. “We’ll get this place build up into a nice community. No wars, no...” He looks pained. “None of the bullshit from before will carry over, you have my word.”

“I believe you,” Tommy says, resting his head against Ranboo’s shoulder.

He’s content to sit in silence for a moment, enjoying the small comforts. When their small crowd starts wandering off, presumely to start building shelter, Ranboo nudges Tommy.

“Hey, I think Wilbur’s waiting for you.”

Tommy startles, looking around. He spots Wilbur in the distance, casually resting under a tree. Wilbur looks incredibly relaxed, but he’s smiling in Tommy’s direction. On his chest, Tommy recognizes a small book. He knows that book.

“Hey Boo?” Tommy slowly raises himself to his feet.

“Yeah?” Ranboo’s getting to his feet after Tommy. “Yeah, it’s okay. I’ll build us a temporary shelter okay? We’ll wait for Tubbo, you go spend time with him.” Ranboo nudges Tommy toward Wilbur.

Shooting his best friend a grateful smile, Tommy turns back toward Wilbur, moving closer. Wilbur sits up straighter and pats the ground next to him. Tommy silently obeys, letting out a sigh as Wilbur wraps an arm around Tommy’s shoulders, pulling him closer.

He nuzzles into Wilbur withi a sigh, letting his eyes close. “Is that what I think it is?”

“I made you a promise, did I not?” Wilbur’s voice rumbles, and Tommy hums in response. He may have died, their world might’ve been destroyed, but it had all worked.

He doesn’t know how, only that the end had been involved and everything had ended in some sort of dimension-crumbling chaos.

Thinking about it all gives him a headache.

“Shall we start?” Wilbur continues. Tommy can feel a hand resting on his head, fingers already curling through his hair. It’s comforting, it’s relaxing, and Tommy’s melting into Wilbur. When Wilbur starts reading, his voice is a soft cadence, designed to lull Tommy to sleep.

“Chapter one: Concerning Hobbits,” Wilbur reads.

Whether or not this is his ending or beginning, it doesn’t matter.

He’s home.

#dream smp #dream smp fanfiction #dsmp au #dark!fic #tommyinnit #ranboo #dreamwastaken #wilbur soot #philza #technoblade #death #rebirth #ending #beginnings #reset #long post #miishae writes #thank you for sticking with me!

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atqh16 · 4 years ago

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Take My Hand (Say You Need Me Still)

A Daredevil Fic (Matt/Foggy, Girl!Foggy. Pre-Slash)

Summary : Look, getting shot is just the New York experience. You haven’t lived unless you’ve been held at gunpoint at least once. And if you save someone doing it? Hey, bonus!

AO3

Foggy will very openly admit that it was actually a really stupid thing to do. Matt will be downright furious when he finds out. If she makes it out of this alive she’s not keen on facing down the utterly hypocritical wrath of her best friend. She’s pretty sure Karen would defend her which is a nice thought to dwell on.

After Karen had told her about what happened with Wesley, it was like a wall had broken down between them. Suddenly she was so much more relaxed, open. She didn’t look like she was going to throw up every time Foggy talked about how ridiculously admirable albeit stupid she was to insist on constantly putting her life in danger to chase a good story (Lois Lane would be proud).

You’d think Foggy would get a break with having to deal with only one dangerously reckless best friend but apparently life felt that she deserved to handle two

She wouldn’t change a thing.

Though she feels that its incredibly ironic how she finds herself to be the one bleeding out from a bullet wound at the Police Precinct after daring to step in front of a mook with a gun. In her defense it was either her or the 8 month old pregnant lady and really was that much of a choice?

Marci would be really pissed at her too if she ever found out about this even if they've split up for almost 6 months now. That is if she ever found out from where she’s staying in Los Angeles. Knowing how much of a tattle tale Matt is, she’d probably find out. No Foggy Bear this time. Probably just an ass whooping in the form of a chilling reprimand that only serves to remind Foggy how much Marci really cares. Especially since this is the third time she’s gotten hurt in almost 5 years. Must be a record.

Maybe this is the universes way of helping her make up for the fact that she can't be out there in the thick of danger the same way her partners are. She’s not planning on making it a habit because this fucking hurts and the pregnant lady clumsily putting too much pressure on her stomach isn’t helping with that. She bites back a laugh at a sudden random thought that maybe her abdominal fat played a useful role for once and managed to absorb most of the bullets impact as opposed to her vital organs

She’s not brave she knows. Not in the same way Karen and Matt are. She can't even manage to take a bullet without crying because again, it fucking burns. But at the very least she’s comforted knowing neither Matt nor Karen are the ones bleeding out this time.

It’s a soothing thought and it helps that she’s starting to feel numb. There's a faint troubling nudge at the edge of her mine that she's sure is panic at this. Something about how it might be because she’s losing too much blood, she's going into shock. But the feeling is such a welcome compared to the overwhelming sting from before.

Charlotte -the pregnant lady- is saying something. Mouth moving, loud enough that Foggy can register the sound but her brain is filled with too much fuzz to actually tell what she’s saying.

Either way it doesn’t seem to matter. She’s just surprised she doesn’t feel more scared than she is. Her last thought is maybe that’s a cause for concern but really she can’t find it in herself to care. It occurs to her maybe that’s worse

“What the hell were you thinking Foggy?”

Foggy raises her eyebrows, actually impressed. Matt managed to hold off his furious outburst for five days after she woke up from her short induced coma – “It was two days Matt. Relax”, “You were intubated Foggy. You were in the ICU. Don’t tell me to calm down” – and really it’s a full five days more than she’d expected.

“I’m confused. Was I supposed to let the guy put a bullet through our very nice pregnant client?”

“You were supposed to let the police do their job”

“Right, the very understaffed policemen on duty at the station that included the guy who put me in the cell with our client in the first place”

“Why were you arrested again?”, Karen interjected and Foggy doesn’t miss how it was a cautious attempt to drain the heat out of the conversation.

“Obstruction of justice, or so the very hot headed rookie claimed. I wouldn’t let him do an extensive drug search on my lovely cellmate and told him to get a female cop to do it.”

“Where was Brett?”

“He was at the drug bust at the pier with me. I called him there”, it’s Matt’s turn to explain. There's a hint of guilt in his voice and while Foggy doesn’t agree for it to be there, she finds it the perfect moment to throw in another excuse.

“To be fair, I did call both of you to bail me out.”

Karen looks a bit red in the face. Coughing loudly before she says, “I was under cover. At the Irish Parlor”

The angry flush in Matt’s cheeks seem to redden even more “The Parlor Mob ?! Karen….”

“I was with Jessica! Relax, Matt.”

There’s a short moment where Matt seems to have more to protest but instead, “At least one of you has some common sense”

“OK, now you’re just being a hypocritical asshole”, Foggy retorts, rolling her eyes.

“You should’ve waited for back up! For Brett or even me-“

“And what? I don’t think you understand when I say this guy had a gun aimed at our pregnant client and was ready to shoot her point blank any second. God knows why”

“I Don’t… Its just… I.. “, words seem to have tied his tongue into a knot and Karen immediately understands it as her cue to leave.

“I think I’m gonna get some coffee. Have to talk to Jess. She actually asked about you Foggy”, Karen says. Providing an entertained smirk.

“Yeah well after all the times I kept her out of Jail I hope she does”, Foggy replies but there's no heat in it. Only a fondness that surprises even her.

“Tell her I said Hi, and tell her she still owes me my retainer”

Karen lets out a laugh but she doesn’t say anything else. She gives a soft peck on the side of Foggy's head before leaving. The sole of her sneakers pad softly on the linoleum floor until she probably turns a corner after which Matt seems to be satisfied that she’s properly out of earshot.

Foggy raises an eyebrow that she knows Matt can’t see but she trusts her tone conveys her expectation for Matt to continue,“You were saying?”, she prods. Curt.

Matt’s hands are on his hips. A classic Murdock stance the few times he finds his clever tongue has failed him. Shuffling back and forth before taking a deep breath and - “You’re not suppose to get hurt. I know-“ He raises a palm to qualm his best friends protest “- it’s hypocritical of me. I know. But you’re meant to be safe Fog. Karen… I can’t stop her. No matter what I do. I’ve accepted that-“

“Like I’ve accepted the same thing about you?”

“It’s different fog!”, Matts voice is weighted with frustration and he’s gritting his teeth the way he always does when he’s trying to hold back from snapping.

"Matt, breath. I promise I'm not gonna make a habit out of this. I don't think my health insurance can take it. It's going to be hell to get them to cover my third hospital visit in 5 years. I'm pretty sure they're thinking about cancelling my contract at this very moment"

"Leave that to me", there's a challenging snarl in the undertone of Matt's voice - glad to have something else to direct his frustration at - that has something balloon all warm in Foggy's chest.

It's not that Matt has never showed off his protective streak before. She remembers how he reduced one of their classmates to tears in a debate when he found out they'd called her a fat fag at a party a few days before. Which frankly is not the worse she's been called and is just insultingly unoriginal. But it still makes something flutter fondly inside her at the unofficial confirmation of how much Matt still cares.

There hasn't been a lot of that going around lately what with Matt being stretched thin with Daredevil and a new gang trying to claim the territory Fisk had left behind. There hadn't been anything else that could take priority. Which, Foggy truly doesn't begrudge.

But she lost her best friend for months. Thought he was dead. She just got him back. Is it selfish for her to want him for herself for once?

He hasn't just been hers for a very long time now. Which, again, understandable. Matt's a fully independent adult, not an object to own. But she used to be able to hold his attention a lot more than she does now. A part of her knows its not because of her, but years of high school bullying have buried a vindictive voice in her head, constantly trying to convince her that its because she's just not important. Not enough.

Which again is so self-absorbed that she internally cringes every time it comes up. Still, to admit that it doesn't gnaw at her self-esteem would be a lie. Which is why she absolutely refused to raise the issue with her walking, talking lie-detector of a best friend.

She distracted herself with their workload. Both hers and Matts because she hadn't suggested they reopen their firm without knowing exactly what to expect. Not that Matt hadn't pulled his weight. The info he'd gotten for some of their cases as Daredevil was invaluable which is sort of important when their rinky dink little firm absolutely did not have the budget for a private investigator. There's only so many times Foggy can call Jess in for a favor before risking her busting his door down and throwing their office phone out the window.

Which, ok yeah that's not fair. Jess is a drunk asshole but she's not a bitch. Big difference. There would definitely be some empty threats and cussing colourful enough to make a sailor blush. But nothing worse.

So Foggy had done what she could and carried what she could. Which is why when their most recent client had called her from jail in a tearful panic, Foggy hadn't hesitated to rub the lethargy out of her eyes before making her way down to the precinct.

How could she have known that a cop - their clients ex, she'd been told - would pull out a gun on them both? She'd done her best to distract and try to diffuse the situation till one of the other cups could tackle the maniac. But he'd been a lot more trigger happy than any of them expected. Pushing their client out of the way had been instinct. It's not like she had purposely let the bullet hit her. She was just slow. Sue her. Her reflexes aren't that great.

But is it bad that she was having fun basking in Matt's attention right now? Matt mother henning her, from adjusting the position of her bed to chiding her into drinking more water (This is the third glass Matt. Anymore and my bladder is going to burst") to even fluffing her pillow.

Unfortunately she doesn't get to enjoy it for long because despite what waking up from a very long sleep would suggest, she still feels exhausted. The pain-killers are weighing her limbs down and the filter between her brain and her mouth has turned from a sieve to a funnel and she doesn't really want to say anything she's going to regret. Not anything bitter or sharp. Just thoughts. Feelings. Things that she's not ready to face, let alone voice.

But she can't stop the warmth rising in her cheeks when Matt lifts a hand to her temple to push some stray strands behind her ear ("It's growing out", "I like it. It's more you", "Not very professional though", "Avocados don't follow society's idea of professionalism", "Well you got me there"). Or from curling her fingers around his hand when he grips hers between both of his, brought up to his lips as if in prayer.

Matt has never been able properly look at her of course. Hello! Blind! But even with his radar senses, the lack of use of his eyes and the presence of his glasses make it so that he never really bothers to adjust his pupils to give the illusion of eye contact. It took some effort and time but after a while she managed to learn how to read her best friend from his body language and the simple way he moved to communicate what he couldn't or wouldn't say.

From the difference between a fake laugh and a genuine one to the way he tilts his head when you had his full attention. How he stiffens when he's annoyed or pissed. The disparity of a toothy smile and a open lipped snarl.

Foggy knows her best friend. Has spent 10 years collecting bits and pieces of him and while Matt might disagree with the image Foggy has formed of him in her mind, Foggy refuses to budge on it. Matt insists that he's built with the devil under his skin and a fury that burns with it. Contrary to Matt's belief, Foggy has always seen and known that part of Matt existed. Its just, to Foggy, they didn't hide what laid underneath. The empathy and kindness that curled like roots from which all Matt's actions rose from. From pushing an old man out of the way of a speeding truck to starting a firm that barely earned pennies for the sake of helping the innocent to even his need to stalk the night with nothing but a cotton shirt protecting him from harm.

So foggy knows. She knows how Matt acts when he's around his friends. When he's around potential hook ups and even when he was with Elektra. Loath as Foggy was to see it.

But right here, right now, there's something different in the way Matt is moving. Something tender. His thumb swirling circles on the back of her hand. His lips brush over her knuckles. Chapped and rough but the kiss he leaves on them is lingering and hot from his breath.

Even as her eyes droop, Foggy's heart drums a furious beat that threatens to burst through her ribs.

"Matty?", Foggy barely manages to get his name out. So tired, blackness already easing her away from him. She feels more then see's one of Matt's hands gliding down to clasp her wrist while the other pulls hers closer to rest his cheek on the back of it.

"Sleep Foggy. We'll talk when you wake up"

She does and this time, nothing hurts.

#Daredevil #matt murdock #foggy nelson #Matt/foggy #My writing #my fic stuff #whump #angst

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personasintro · 5 years ago

Text

My Tiny Secret | 13; Not Welcomed

𝑴𝒚 𝑻𝒊𝒏𝒚 𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆 | 13; Not Welcomed

⏤𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; Pretty face doesn’t make it up for an ugly personality. And Kim Seokjin is the perfect proof of that.

⏤𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: seokjin x reader

⏤𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: angst, smut, mistress au, unexpected pregnancy au

⏤𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: toxic relationship, strong language

⏤> 𝒇𝒊𝒄 𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒙

buy me a coffee?♡

The packages looks exactly the same for him, the only difference is various kinds of brand and pictures decorating the same thing. He can’t even tell the difference between those sizes — just another thing that makes him frown and groan in frustration.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know which ones are right?” he asks through clenched teeth, muting his voice down when a woman with toddler attached to her hip passes by his frustrated and puzzled figure.

If Namjoon could see him right now, he would laugh his ass off. Never in a million years he thought he would be standing in this kind of aisle, completely confused and so out of place.

“I showed you the package!” you exclaim at the other side, your sigh of disbelief booming through Seokjin’s phone speakers.

“I fucking know that!” he exclaims back while a woman that’s grabbing one of the packages from the aisle gives him a glare, but he could care less. He looks away with coldness in his eyes, rubbing his eyes with his free hand that’s not holding his phone.

You specifically showed him the exact diapers package he needs to buy, even described it when he had it in front of his face. It caused him to snap at you ‘I’m not an idiot for fucks sake, I get it’, that’s what he told you. It turned out that he didn’t get it and is, an idiot after all. You would like to point that out, but you bite into your lip in amusement at his distressed tone. It kind of makes you wish you were there to witness it with your own eyes.

“I’ll send you a photo of it,” you sigh at the other side, the rustling sound can be heard before Yoojin’s soft whimpers follows right after. “I know baby, you’ll have to wait. Your daddy can’t remember a single package.”

He hears the amusement in your voice, the way you try to hide a giggle but he ignores it at the name you called him. Daddy. It’s so weird hearing that. It’s been a month since he became a father, but it still comes as shock that he can never fully recovers from. Still, the corner of his mouth twitches at the new nickname, a weird tension clenching his chest.

“You’re coming with me next time.” he grumbles before he can fully dwell on that new feeling, shifting on his spot as he stares at the baby that’s on one of the diaper packages.

Yoojin is cuter, he thinks as he hears you humming in agreement before you curse under your breath.

“Someone’s knocking, I’ve to go.” he hears you mumbling, the same rustling sound reaches his ears and he wants nothing more than to grumble in annoyance, but his eyes widen instead.

“What-- no-- what am I supposed to do? Send me that damn picture.” he stutters over his words, face red with frustration.

“Ask someone.” you quickly tell him before the line is dead, his eyes closing as he tries to calm down himself.

You were his only hope and now he’s stuck in the middle of grocery shop in front of diapers, babies on the packages looking at him. Fuck, he never felt so ridiculous. He’s starting to regret his offer of buying diapers for Yoojin once you found out there are only few left. Something he noticed is, that small babies use a lot of diapers throughout the day.

“Hello, sir. Do you need some help?” A cheerful lady with a name tag on decorating her red shirt reaches him. She must’ve seen him struggling for the past ten minutes that he’s been standing in the same spot, glaring at the various types of diapers. Ten tremendous minutes that he’s been too cocky not to call you straight away, since he thought he won’t need your help. It turned out that he did need it and well, still needs it since you declined the call.

“Err, yeah.” he says, preparing to embarrass himself in front of her as she keeps smiling at him — too much for his liking. Doesn’t her cheeks hurt from all that smiling?

“Well, what size do you need?” she asks, understanding that he’s looking for the right package and size.

How can buying a diapers be hard? Yeah, he thought. That’s what he gets for being too cocky and confident.

“Well-- I-- I’m not sure.” he mutters, scratching the back of his neck as he avoids her big eyes.

“It’s okay,” she smiles, “How old is your baby?”

He already feels annoyed by the amount of questions and her overly cheerful expression that she’s obviously faking just because it’s her job. Still, she’s his only hope.

So with that thought, he sighs and gives her an answer. “He’s newborn. Well, one month old.”

Wow, is he already one month? He wonders as she nods and already reaches for one of the packages.

“This one should be perfect.” she says, handing him the item before he takes it and examines it with curious eyes.

He looks at the price, not surprised she gave him the more expensive ones but he doesn’t care. As long as it the good size, he’s going to pay anything.

“You sure? He’s really tiny.” he says, turning it around to read the description that’s written on the backside.

The saleswoman smiles at him while he’s busy reading the back of package with a small frown settled on his thick brows. “Well, if it’s wrong you can always return it. Just don’t forget to take receipt with you.”

He barely manages to thank her before she disappears behind another aisle, leaving him alone with diapers package in his arms.

Fuck it, he thinks as he goes with the one she handed him while he makes his way to cashier.

The timing of the knock couldn't be worse, considering the unstoppable wailing that comes from the baby in your arms as you try to open the door with him in your arms.

You mumble repeated apology to your son, your lips brushing over his soft hair as you finally open the front door with a sigh of relief. The person behind the front door has a raised hand, probably ready to knock again since you took your time answering the door. But you don't have enough time to think about it for too long, surprised by the sudden visit you've never expected.

Your best friend stands in the front door, which brings a complete shock to you since his first and last visit was the day you moved it. You haven't seen him for weeks, at least in person, only through the screen of your phone.

Missing Hoseok is daily part of your life, especially during times when Seokjin goes home. Back to the times when you were living together, you never felt lonely. Not in the way you do right now.

He hasn't changed much, he looks exactly the same way he always does and you almost blurt 'what are you doing here' but stop yourself at the very last minute. It might sound rude and you're nothing than happy to see him standing in front of you.

“Hobi,” you breathe out, a large smile spreads across your chapped lips. “You're here.” you say with disbelief and happiness in your voice while he gives you a soft smile.

“Yeah, dropped by the last minute. Am I interrupting?” he asks, hiding his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he eyes Yoojin squirming in your arms.

He probably thinks he does at the sight of your bare exhausted face with baby crying while you pat his back to calm him.

“No! Of course not! Come in!” you say quickly, opening the door wider for him as you watch him cautiously cross over threshold.

He doesn't hug you, silently taking off his super clean sneakers to yours which makes you slightly frown. He's acting weird and considering he came to visit you, the lack of enthusiasm makes you feel tense. Maybe he doesn't miss you as much as you miss him, maybe he's glad he doesn't have to take care of you anymore.

Yoojin's wails turn into loud cries and you cringe at the volume, a look of distress dominating over your exhausted face when you look at Hoseok. “He's hungry. I have to feed him.” you apologize to him.

“No worries, I'll wait.” he gently says, fingers running through his lock that seemed to be longer and you wonder if he plans to grow it out.

“Thanks,” you smile at him, bouncing Yoojin as you're ready about to step into the bedroom before you turn around to look at him. His eyes are already on yours, their warmth lacking of something. “You can sit down or anything you want.” you tell him causing him to nod in appreciation before you're rushing to feed Yoojin.

It takes only ten minutes until he burps, his cries no longer existing as you step into the living room where Hoseok patiently waits and sits on the couch. He's occupied with his phone, his brows slightly furrowed in concentration before he looks up meeting your eyes.

His eyes soften at the sight of Yoojin and it makes you slightly relax, just a tiny bit. “He grew up so much.” he comments as you make your way to him to sit next to him.

“Really? Seokjin says he's tiny.” you say without realization, until the words leave a weird taste in your mouth as you look in alarm at your best friend.

He doesn't seem to react, his eyes focused on your son as he stares with look of adoration.

“Do you wanna hold him?” you ask softly and he nods with no hesitation which makes you smile.

He carefully takes him, supporting his head and back before he's pressed against his chest. It's nice to see him remembering all the important facts. Despite of his sudden visit, and mostly weird behavior, you smile at both of them finding the sight in front of you adorable and touched. But as you carefully eye Hoseok you know he doesn't came here for a simple visit, since he sort of avoids your eyes.

Over the years of knowing him, you just know there's something else that bothers him and you've no idea what that is. The only option is to ask and for couple of minutes in utter silence, you're trying to find the guts to do it.

“I didn't know you were planning on visiting. I would've bake you your favorite cheesecake.” you nervously smile, your voice thick and complete contrast to the silence between you two.

He looks up, causing your breath to hitch at the weird look in his eyes. His throat moves each time he gulps while his face twitch in the weirdest grimace as if he was in the pain.

“I didn't plan it.” he decides to speak, his tone dry as he cringes at it.

Is he trying to be cold to you for some reason? Because he's doing an awful job at it when he seems to be regretful right after he opened his mouth.

It's unusual to see him being so distant, but it's enough to create a weird lump in your throat.

“What--”

“Open it.” he cuts you off, pulling out a folded paper that's wrinkled by the pocket of his jeans.

He throws it on the couch, the paper landing just couple of inches from your thighs as you give him a look of utter confusion. But you don't question him any further, reaching towards the paper. As you slowly unfold it with knitted brows, your eyes widen as you finally read what's written on there. Opening your mind, you're not sure what you're about to say, you just know you've to explain it.

“What the hell, Y/N?” he asks, brows furrowed so much that you've never seen him being so angry – at least not to you.

He never looked at you this way and it only makes you want to shrink and hide.

It's a printout of his bank account, coming and incoming transaction as the huge number on the paper screams at you.

You surely knew he wouldn't be happy once he finds out, but you never expected him to come here and be so angry with you. Nevertheless, you don't feel like you've done something wrong.

It was a few days back when you finally got the time to sit down and transfer the money Seokjin gave you, to Hoseok's bank account. You've wanted to do it ever since he gave you the money, to repay your best friend for everything he has done for you and Yoojin. If it weren't for him, God knows how would everything turn out.

You completely forgot that you've sent him that money in the first place and judging by Hoseok pissed off look, he probably found out just today.

“Hobi--”

“I'll transfer that money back.” he cuts you off, his jaw tightly set as he pats Yoojin's back.

“What? No!” you protest right away, scowling at your best friend which mimics your expression.

You've never really got into fight with him, there never was a reason to, and you surely believe there isn't right now.

“The money is for you. I told you I would pay you back and honestly, this is the least I can do for you. You deserve them, Hobi.”

“I don't want them. You should have them. Buy something for Yoojin, yourself or just leave them in your bank account. I don't care, I don't want any money from you.” he's determined, his eyes burning yours as he makes sure to emphasize every word.

“We don't need them.” you tell him softly, scooting closer to him as you place your hand over his knee.

It makes you realize how much you've missed his warmth and proximity. He is the only person who would embrace you in a hug, the only person that makes you feel loved and appreciated. Feeling him even through the fabric of his jeans is enough to make you emotional, because you miss your best friend. You miss having him close and cuddle to you while watching boring movies and TV shows. You miss living with him, not caring that his apartment isn't as big as yours and not fitted for three people.

Even Hoseok himself, seems to relax under your touch while his eyes stay on yours. But there's still that irritated darkness in his eyes.

“We're fine.” you assure him, his eyes leaving yours to look around.

His eyes set on the picture of you and him, that's been there from the day one. It brings a soft smile on his lips, enough to make you do the same as he sighs.

You and Yoojin are really fine. And by that you mean you're being taken care of well.

Seokjin makes sure there's nothing missing for his son. He visits more often, mostly during weekends and later in the evening after he's done in the company. You even went for a small walk in the nearby park together, which was really awkward at first. To walk side by side with Kim Seokjin while pushing Yoojin's pram, in front of neighbors who couldn't help but turn around with shocked expression every time you passed by them. It felt awkward, weird but nice at the same time.

There's nothing much you both talked about, the only topic of your conversation was Yoojin himself. It surprised you, because Seokjin took a huge interest in his son as he asked the most detailed questions. You answer all of them casually, although you were freaking out inside.

“I-- it's a lot. I can't take it.” he manages to choke out, his eyes widely open once he looks back at you.

It's a lot – but still enough for everything that he has done for you.

“You can and you will.” you smile up at him, your eyes boring to each other with so much intensity to see who will budge first but you're stubborn to do so.

“Half,” he decides to say. “I'll take.. only half of it.”

He doesn't look comfortable with his own proposition, showing discomfort on his face but you can happily agree with him. It's a progress he even agreed to take the money – at least some of it. With cheerful squeal, you hug him as much as you're allowed considering he's holding Yoojin. He shakes his head at you, a playful grin shining your way at your stubbornness while he pulls you closer to him with his free hand. You both sigh in happiness, the familiar scent of his favorite cologne is like a peaceful smell for you.

“I've missed this.” you mumble, boring your head into his chest as your nose nudges Yoojin's small hand.

“Me too, I missed you guys,” he says back immediately, hand caressing your shoulder in calming manner as you feel him snuffling your hair. “It feels lonely without you.”

He's talking about his home, causing your heart to shiver at the way he says it. It makes you sad that you've left him and although, you can't complain about how you live right now, you still miss him. That will never change. You both got so used to living together that now it feels lonely and weird. But you both always knew that time will come.

“I miss this baby pumpkin.”

As you look up, you see him admiring your son with heart-shaped eyes but you see the slightest glimpse of sadness in them. “You should visit more often.”

“Mhm, maybe I should.” he hums, kissing the top of your head as you giggle, the both of you grinning at each other. God, you missed him.

Hoseok has always been very affectionate, the both of you are to each other. It's just the way the two of you are – not anyone would truly understand it. Not everyone would get the fact that you're comfortable with each other.

“What the fuck?”

The loud booms between the walls, breaking apart the two of you as you jump away from Hoseok in shock. Seokjin stands between the living room and corridor with a huge look of disapproval and anger, his eyes deadly set on Hoseok. You can't seem to bring yourself to check on Hoseok, your eyes focused on the father of your child and his growing scowl. He looks intimidating, causing your throat to go completely dry for some goddamn reason.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” he impatiently asks, the intensity in his voice is much bigger now as he stares back at you – sending daggers your way.

It's only now when you notice the huge package of diapers in his arms and if it were under different circumstances, you'd laugh at the rare sight in front of you. But you can't find anything amusing, especially right now when Seokjin looks like he's planning Hoseok's death. This is what you wanted to never happened, the two of them meeting since you're pretty aware of the grudge they hold against each other. It completely blew out of your mind that Seokjin is supposed to come here.

“Seokjin, please--” You're not sure what you're begging him for, but you don't want him to cause a scene even if there's just the three of you. Plus Yoojin, who luckily doesn't seem to be affected by the sudden loudness.

“Why the fuck is he holding my son?” he growls, taking a few steps forward as you're quick to jump on your feet.

Before he can truly charge at your best friend who seems to be awfully quiet about the whole situation, your hand is firm against his hard chest as you stop him.

“Our son,” you remind him with a frown and stern voice as he looks down to take a glance at your irritated gaze. “And stop making a scene. Hoseok is my best friend and he came to visit us, whether you like it or not.” you speak slowly, but firm and loud enough for everyone in the room to hear you.

You really want to check on Hobi, but your eyes are set on Seokjin as he challenges you with his firm and dark eyes. His jaw clenches and unclenches, complementing with himself.

“You told me this is my home,” you speak, the darkness of his eyes shifting between yours. “If I want him here, he's going to be here. If you have something against this, I can pack my stuff and leave.”

“Are you threatening me?” he scoffs.

You've no idea what's going on in the man's head, but he probably thought of it as you taking Yoojin away from him which is ridiculous, because you don't live together. Maybe he thinks you won't allow him to see him, which is again – ridiculous. You wouldn't do that, at least not now considering how they've just started to bond together more. Yoojin brings a different side of Seokjin, unrevealed and new one.

“I'm informing you.” you correct him and it causes him to scoff again, but he holds his ground and slightly relaxes underneath your palm.

Forgetting that you never moved your hand, you cautiously do with a sigh before you turn around to glance at Hoseok who stares at your interaction with unreadable gaze. He stands up, careful not to drop Yoojin as he smiles down at him before he walks closer to the both of you. Your breath is caught in your throat while you cautiously watch him, slowly handing Yoojin to his father. He drops the packages onto the floor with a huge smack, greedily taking Yoojin from Hoseok's hands.

“Hey, kiddo. It's daddy.” he doesn't forget to emphasize, glaring at Hoseok while you glare at him for making unnecessary comment. Hoseok is more than aware of Seokjin's position in Yoojin's life, there's no need for him to remind everyone around him.

“I'm gonna go,” Hoseok speaks with soft voice, hand caressing your touch as he draped an arm over your shoulder to bring you to a faint hug. You're about to tell him he doesn't have but he only shakes his head at you, smiling at the distress and determination on your bare face.”I'll come later, yeah?” he assures you and with a weak nod, you smile at him.

He leaves, your heart dropping when you hear the front door closing as you glare at Seokjin. “Was that necessary?” you snap, irritated when he only looks at you with a pleasant look.

“Actually, I think it was.” he mutters sarcastically, hinting at something with the roll of his eyes which you're not sure what's that about.

Your blood boils inside of you, angry from what has just happened and the fact Hoseok must've left because there was no choice. He could stay but it wouldn't do any good and you know he made the right decision to leave. You just feel angry that he felt like he's not welcomed here, thanks to Seokjin.

“It wasn't. Hoseok is my best friend and he'll get to see Yoojin whenever he wants to. He was there for me during my pregnancy and after it. He has done so much for the both of us,” you glance at Yoojin before you continue. “So stop acting like a fucking prick.” you snap at him.

“If you just told me about your pregnancy in the first place, I could've been the one who would take care of you.” he snaps back, glaring at you.

“You mean, before you tried to buy my son from me or after that?” you mockingly ask him, a shame flashing in his eyes as he looks away with locked jaw.

Bingo.

“Look, it doesn't matter now. All I want for you to act decent if the two of you are going to meet in the future. It's for Yoojin's sake as well. He's too little right now but I don't want him to grow up and see the hate between you two.”

The fact that you don't scream at him and not letting your frustration to get the best of you says a lot about your patience. But you need him to understand this. He isn't stupid but he's Kim Seokjin. Nothing is ever easy with him.

He's silent, cuddling to Yoojin as his plump lips touch his soft hair. You try not to melt at the pure sight and not let your guard down as you stare at him with intense glare. His eyes shift between you and the wall behind you as the wheels are running in his mind. But you don't budge, lifting your brow in waiting manner as he rolls his eyes.

“Fine.” he doesn't say anything else, nibbling on his bottom lip to calm down himself as you sigh in relief.

You're on your way to the kitchen to cook the chicken soup, knowing Seokjin will stay for lunch before you pause and call out his name. “Oh, and stop being fucking possessive about me or Yoojin. You don't own anyone.”

And with that, you leave into the kitchen with satisfied smirk on your lips.

taglist: @kpopyandere @btsxarii @nostalgicstudyblr @rkivemagic @0minabean0 @ughtear @queensavage1245 @choppe96 @mtgforall @jalexa83 @euphoriugh @baekimseokjin @quirkyanya @ladyartemesia @seoulazzyy @sinstae @betysotelo18 @ephyra1230 @namjoonsslutakakoreanmanswhore @nooooooooona @starry-magicshop @rjsmochii @lilsxtan @ephyra16 @fujispacebuns (it won’t let me tag you)

(comment on the most recent chapter to be added)

#bts smut #bts angst #seokjin x reader #bts au #kim seokjin au #bts drabble

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Kismet {2}

Henry Cavill x Famous OFC Aliya Taylor

Warning: Plot Heavy, Slow Burn, Mild Cursing, Flirtation

Words: 4.9k

Summary: Aliya is a singer turned model turned actress. Since she was fifteen, she’s been creating her empire in the entertainment world. As the daughter of a famous fashion model/designer and Hollywood director, you’d think life is easy for her, but her past has been anything but easy. Due to past trauma, she’s forever changed and no longer trusts any man that is not in her family and a select few in her team. She’s sworn off love and serious relationships and has planned never to fall again, but love isn’t something that can be planned. It just happens when it’s meant to. Can Aliya outrun a love that seems hellbent on holding tight to her, a love that is Kismet?

Note: I did something a little different this chapter with POVs. You’ll see it toward the end. Let me know if it was confusing or if you guys liked it. Also there are Google Translations in text. If they are wrong, I apologize. I hope you enjoy this. ❤️❤️

If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!! 😘 As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

Previous Chapters: 1 |

-Henry-

He could feel the eyes of those around him. He’d been recognized. You’d think that years of being in the industry, he’d be immune to the stares, whispers, and not so discreet pictures of him being taken. He was not. It was always like the first time. It was difficult for him not to feel self-conscious about it either. Doing a once over of the restaurant, he made a mental note of where everyone who looked suspicious was. Most of them looked away when they saw him looking around, but there were a few bold ones who kept looking and even one or two extra bold who tried to make eye contact while giving the classic seductress lip bite. When that happened, he usually gave a quick, polite nod before looking away, never to look back.

Tonight was no different, except he couldn’t stop thinking about one woman—you. It wasn’t enough that he’d dreamt of you last night in ways that were unexpected seeing how he’d just unofficially met you. He couldn’t explain how he felt. It was strange and new. He’d met beautiful women before, women that were drop dead gorgeous with an equally amazing and impressive body. The physical aspects of you were not what was keeping him enthralled. It was something else, something he saw in your eyes when he held you, something his body felt once he touched your skin, something his heartfelt when you spoke. It was unexplainable at this time, but just because he couldn’t explain it didn’t mean he couldn’t dwell on the feeling.

“Dude, I’ve been calling and texting you all night. What the hell?”

Jean, had his arms stretched out nonverbally, asking, “what the hell?”

“You have?”

“Yeah. Pick up your phone,” Jean finished.

“I didn’t know. I don’t have my phone,” he replied as he leaned back. The eyes of his three friends dropped to the table where your phone was. It looked identical to his.

“It’s right there, man,” William said, pointing to it.

“This isn’t mine.”

“Uh, it looks like yours,” Jameson informed.

“Yeah, but it’s not.”

They all looked confused. Stifling his laughter, he began explaining to them. He knew they were probably going to lose their minds.

“Yesterday, I had a meeting about Witcher, so I’m coming off the elevator on my phone, and I run smack into Aliya Taylor.”

The eyes of the gents around him widened as they sat up more alert.

“Thee Aliya Taylor?” Nodding his answer to Jameson, he gulped his Guinness before continuing.

“She almost falls over, so my reflexes kick in, and I catch her and set her upright. She recovers and gets on the elevator. I pick up what I thought was my phone, but I just spent the last night realizing that this is not my phone,” he finished.

The three of them sat there silently, each thinking over the bit of news he’d just shared. Saying it out loud, it sounded like a plot from a romcom. It was absolutely ridiculous. Things like these never happen in real life.

“So, you have Aliya Taylor’s phone.”

“I have Aliya Taylor’s phone, and she has mine,” he laid out.

Jameson, his oldest friend, slid back with a shocked expression on his face. “Wow. That’s bonkers.”

Releasing a chuckle, he nodded in agreement.

“So, what have you doing on her phone?”

He knew that was going to be William’s next question. He could also guess another one of his questions was going to be about your pictures.

“What you would find on a typical woman’s phone,” he answered.

“So, selfies, nudes, clothes, and makeup?”

The laughter around the table filled the space around them, giving him enough of a reprieve to drink down some more of his Guinness.

“Not sure about the nudes. I saw a half nude then stopped. I felt weird like I was violating her privacy.”

“The better question is, what’s on your phone, mate?” That was when he made a face knowing full well what might be on his phone.

“There might be a few nudes,” he admitted. His friends laughed again, but he didn’t find it funny at all. “Oh Christ, I hope she hasn’t seen them.”

“Mate, Aliya Taylor could be checking out your knob right now and fancying what she sees,” Jean teased.

“Shut up. She hasn’t called. I’m sure she knows by now that it’s not her phone,” he audibly thought.

“Just like you know. Call her,” Jameson urged.

He sat there for a few moments thinking about if that were the right move rather than a text. His friends could see his hesitation. So passed the next five or so minutes with them trying to convince him a call was the best option. With a unanimous decision, he picked up the phone as his friends squeezed in to look.

“Aw, flowers how adorable,” William teased. He ignored their laughter and dialed his number. He had no idea if you’d pick up or not.

The phone rang three times, and just when he thought you weren’t going to pick up, he heard your voice. It was soft and hesitant.

“Hello?”

Silence. His eyed automatically widened as he froze. His friends around him motioned to him, telling him to speak. That was when his brain restarted.

“Yes, hi. This is Henry—Cavill. I bumped into you; we bumped into each other yesterday.”

“Right, yes,” you confirmed in a professional voice. He wondered if you were slightly freaking out as much as he was on the inside. If you were, you sounded nothing but calm and collected.

“It looks like I might have your phone,” he breached.

“And I might have yours.”

“It seems that way.”

The silence stretched again, but it wasn’t entirely uncomfortable.

“Would you like to make a plan to exchange them back? Maybe coffee tomorrow, or brunch?”

His mouth said it before his brain caught it. Once it was out, he cringed. He sounded sleazy with a touch of desperate. It was not a good look either way. Your silence told him you thought the same thing.

“Are you asking me out or to meet up to get your phone back?”

It was a good question, one he didn’t have enough confidence to answer.

“I can’t tomorrow anyway. I’m actually in London right now working. I won’t be back in LA for about a week and a half,” you informed.

“Oh, wow.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. If you like, I can have my assistant mail it to you express. You should get it by tomorrow night,” you suggested.

“I would rather exchange hand to hand. My phone has a lot of very personal stuff on it.”

“As does mine,” you added.

“I would suspect so. The most secure thing would be when you return to LA,” he countered.

“Can you go without a phone for that long?”

A smile spread across his face. “I’ll be using yours.”

Your laughter was loud and unexpected. He couldn’t help but smile wider because of it. He wondered what you looked like while you laughed. Catching a glimpse of his friends’ faces, he wiped the smile off his face and shook the thought away.

“Feel free to use mine,” he added.

“And is someone important calls like Spielberg or a Francesca?”

That was when he knew you’d looked in his phone. He wasn’t angry. He was filled with something else—regret maybe. Regret that you’d seen things that he couldn’t explain then and there or beforehand. His friends all had the same look on their faces. It was one that said he’d been caught.

“If it’s Spielberg, yes, answer on the first ring.”

Again, you laughed. You were good for his ego; he thought to himself before continuing.

“Francesca, no need to answer, we have nothing to talk about.” It was the truth. “What about if it’s Tyra Banks or Liam or Jesse. Do I answer?”

The silence stretched for several long moments. He wondered if you would answer, and his friends looked equally interested. What seemed like a long while later, he heard you speak again.

“Tyra Banks answer at your own risk, she’ll pump you for info until you’re blue in the face. If it’s Liam or Jesse, if I were you, I wouldn’t. They have strong jealous tendencies.”

The answer was unexpected, and it was an answer he didn’t quite like. “Who doesn’t these days,” he stated. Neither of you spoke for a few moments after.

“So, a week and a half?”

“Sounds like a date,” he responded. You giggled. He liked the sound of it.

“Date?”

“Yes, a date,” he confirmed.

“I never said anything about a date.”

“I know, but I also know there was some sort of spark between us yesterday, and I know you felt it too.”

Again you were quiet. Yeah, it was bold, but he knew that he wouldn’t get any answers to the multitude of questions he had without some bold move forward.

“You’ll have your phone back in a week and a half. Goodbye, Henry,” you said before you ended the call.

Without knowing he’d been holding it, he released his breath and sat back in his seat.

“Jeez, she’s a firecracker,” Jameson professed.

That’s the least of it, he thought.

~~~~~~~

-Aliya-

Your time in London was hectic. You were all over the place. Your photoshoots took you all over the English countryside. You frolicked in green pastures, posed on trees, in trees. You rode horses and pretended to play cricket. You posed with English roses and having afternoon tea all the while in the latest in fashion, and all dolled up in makeup. When your days began at five in the morning, they didn’t end until ten at night. If they began at night, you were not back in your hotel room until six in the morning.

On the days your modeling responsibilities didn’t rule your schedule you worked within your company. You were still in the midst of putting out your first magazine that you hoped would be up to par with Vogue or Bazaar. The goal was to do what they did, just better, and geared for a more ethnic audience, but you were now working on ways to be a bit inclusive—but not much. You wanted black and brown people to feel included, seen, represented, and heard. It was a lot of work, but you knew it would be worth it. Your launch was scheduled for a few months from now, and your excitement was reaching epic proportions with each passing day.

This project was your baby, you put sweat, blood, tears, sleepless nights, and everything ounce of your energy into it. You sometimes neglected having a life for it, and that included dating. It was what you told yourself was the reason for your lack of dating. At the surface, it sufficed, but deep down, you knew you were full of shit. No one else had to know that, though. All anyone needed to know was that you liked to work, and you were damn good at everything you did. You made sure of it.

With your current phone situation, you used Henry’s phone to do everything. No one recognized the number, and when they saw it, they always wanted to question you on what was going on. You were thankful that whoever you called didn’t have his number, or else the caller ID would say his name whenever you called, then you’d have a lot of explaining to do.

On your fourth day in London, you were sitting in the tub soaking after a long day when his phone went off with a notification signifying a text. When you looked at it, you couldn’t help but smile.

MSG Your Phone: Travis and Jesse have called three times so far. I haven’t answered, but you have an overflow of messages and voicemails.

You smiled and wondered if he was fishing for details. When you reread the message, you tried to pick up on any hint of jealousy. There was none.

MSG Henry’s Phone: Francesca and Abby haven’t called, but the messages are overflowing. Would you like me to forward them?

After barely waiting a minute, another message came in.

MSG Your Phone: No. As I said, we have nothing to talk about. Would you like me to forward your voicemails?

Again you smiled. He was fishing.

MSG Henry’s Phone: Nah. They can wait.

You had to giggle. You didn’t plan on giving him not one detail.

MSG Your Phone: How is London treating you?

MSG Henry’s Phone: It’s fine.

MSG Your Phone: Did the sun come out for you?

MSG Henry’s Phone: Nope. Raining cats and dogs.

You sank deeper into the tub and took up the glass of wine you had rested at the side. After a decent sip, you placed the wine glass back and sighed.

MSG Your Phone: Glad to know mother nature treats you just as how she treats me.

MSG Henry’s Phone: Are you in London a lot?

MSG Your Phone: I mainly live in London. I come to LA for work but am spending more and more time here for work, or on location.

The thought popped into your head of where he lives. You wondered if you’d passed it. As soon as you began thinking about it, you pushed the thoughts out of your head.

MSG Henry’s Phone: Oh, so you’re a Brit. Interesting.

It was a stupid reply. Duh, he was a Brit, the accent in interviews you’d watched since bumping into him made it a dead giveaway. It was the only thing you could think of.

MSG Your Phone: What is that interesting?

MSG Henry’s Phone: I completely missed your accent.

It wasn’t a lie.

MSG Your Phone: You were rather distracted.

You couldn’t help but giggle again. It was adorable how confidant he was. This was not the first display of it. Deciding to throw him off, you shot your final text.

MSG Henry’s Phone: Gotta run, goodbye Henry.

Instead of putting the phone down, you reread the messages. With each message, you found yourself smiling wider and wider until you noted a giddy feeling rushing through you. Nipping it in the bud, you put the phone down and closed your eyes, deciding to focus only on relaxing. Unfortunately, the two hemispheres of your brain weren’t in agreement. One wanted Henry, the other wanted relaxation.

Two days of working and forcing yourself to focus on work and everything related to it found you drifting onto the side of overstressed and worked. Any normal human would do everything to alleviate the discomfort, but you, you did everything in your power to prolong it. You knew what the root of it was, and you didn’t want to entertain any parts of your growing curiosity about him. Though you didn’t want to entertain your thoughts about him, you found yourself two days later sitting on your hotel room balcony with a glass of wine thinking of no other but him.

MSG Henry’s Phone: Why don’t you have a lock code on your phone?

As you waited, you sipped from your glass and stared out to the London Eye. It was one of your favorite parts of the city. Sometimes at night, you liked to ride it and just think about your life. You especially liked having it stop at the top. It gave you such a beautiful view of the city and the lights it always took your breath away.

He heard the chime of the phone in the next room. He turned the flame on the stove down to low, so the sauce he had simmering wouldn’t thicken too quickly and made his way to his bedroom for the phone on the nightstand. When he took it up, his smile was wide when he saw his number and the name he’d designated himself as highlighted. When he opened it and read the message, he couldn’t stop the victory dance that he did around his two-bedroom home that went on for much longer than he’d ever admit to.

When he stopped, he was back in the kitchen, hovered over the counter.

MSG Your Phone: What do I need a code for?

As he anxiously waited for your reply, he put the phone on the counter several inches from him. He hoped this would stop him from sending message after message. When he realized that it wasn’t enough, his idle hands still wanted work, so he went back to stirring his pot.

His reply had you wrinkling your nose. He sounded so flippant about it.

MSG Henry’s Phone: Well, for one, you’re an actor with a lot of private high secret info regarding movies on your phone. Anything can get leaked. For two, this is the twenty-first century, and the average person has at least six pieces of incriminating material on their phones. That incriminating material can end up on TMZ or US Weekly, hell every Perez Hilton.

You couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of that. This was logic to you, logic you couldn’t believe no one else had.

He nearly laughed out loud from your message. This was definitely a concern of someone whose star of fame was up there in the stratosphere. He didn’t consider his fame to be anywhere near that high. Yeah, he had fans that ventured on highly over spirited, but on the ever swinging pendulum of fame, he was somewhere a few notches past middle ground. He was glad for it. Already he found his level of fame to be somewhat invasive and debilitating. He could not imagine dealing with your level of fame.

MSG Your Phone: I’m not nearly important enough for anyone to want to hack into my phone to blast info. Also, yes, this is the twenty-first century, but I am anything but the average man. That doesn’t apply to me.

You liked his reply. It said a lot about him but also left so many things hidden, things you absolutely wanted to know more about.

MSG Henry’s Phone: So, there is nothing on your phone that you wouldn’t want a stranger, me seeing?

You thought back to his pictures and the women in his text history and wondered how he would respond. This time you finished your wine with the raise of your hand and poured the remaining contents of the bottle into it as you waited for his reply.

Immediately his mind went to his suggestive nudes and the messages with Abby and Francesca. Those were the only two things he worried about.

MSG Your Phone: Yes, there are things I wouldn’t want you seeing. A stranger, I don’t really care.

Your message came in almost immediately.

MSG Henry’s Phone: What makes me so different? I am a stranger.

Smiling, he turned off the fire, took up the saucepan and poured the caramelized onion, garlic, butter, and wine sauce over his perfectly prepared steak. After putting the saucepan in the sink for washing later, he walked to the dining table with his steak and potatoes dish. He was still living on a high protein diet to keep himself in Witcher shape.

MSG Your Phone: So I’m a stranger?

MSG Your Phone: Yes. I don’t know you.

He thought about your words for a few moments as he sliced a piece of his steak to pop into his mouth. As he chewed, he knew the right response.

MSG Your Phone: Do you want to know me?

It was bold as hell. You couldn’t believe the words as you reread them for the fourth time. What the hell did you say to that? What did he expect you to say? What did you want to say? The only answer that fits every question was you didn’t know.

MSG Your Phone: Something easier then. Why don’t you have a code on your phone?

Sighing out in relief, you took a few gulps of your wine.

MSG Henry’s Phone: I did, I was in the process of changing it when I bumped into you and never completed it, so both were void.

MSG Your Phone: Oh, so it was fate then.

You almost rolled your eyes into the back of your head so far they got stuck.

MSG Henry’s Phone: Fate?

MSG Your Phone: Yes, fate that we bumped into each other at the exact moment you took the code off your phone and then happened to have lost your phone to me. Fate that gave me ten days to peruse it if I chose to. Fate that gave me ten days to make a plan.

Your smile was widening every second that ticked by. The man was charismatic.

MSG Henry’s Phone: A plan? To what exactly?

His smile was big. This was going just as he hoped. The only thing left for him to do was take it there.

MSG Your Phone: To make you mine.

He wished he could see your face right now.

Gasping for air, you continued to cough. The wine was still trapped in your windpipe. As you struggled for air, you tried to calm your panic. After several moments you found yourself able to catch a full breath.

“Holy shit,” you finally gasped. The man was bold as hell for real. You read the message again, and again each time the shock remained. You couldn’t believe he actually said that. A flirtatious feeling washed over you, and you decided to run with it.

MSG Henry’s Phone: You can’t make something or someone a possession that doesn’t want to be possessed.

MSG Your Phone: I think you want to be possessed.

Scoffing, you shook your head and stared at the London Eye again and looked over the lights of the city.

MSG Henry’s Phone: Are you sure?

As soon as you sent the message, his phone chimed again, except this wasn’t a message from him. It was from Abby. Almost instantly, a sour taste filled your mouth, and your face reflected that. It was like a slap to your face telling you to wake the hell up and come back to reality. That was when your bitch face came out to play.

MSG Your Phone: Pretty sure, but you tell me.

MSG Henry’s Phone: You should call Abby. She’s sent you fourteen messages today, most recent right now. Goodbye, Henry.

Closing out messages, you gently tossed his phone onto the small table on the balcony, grabbed your glass, and looked out over the city.

For the next four days, any message he sent you ignored. The one thought that kept racing through your head was that there were currently two women that were continually texting him. Though you didn’t know the specifics of why the whole situation screamed messy. You didn’t do messy; you didn’t do love triangles or squares, you didn’t do anything that screamed complicated or distracting. You didn’t care how attracted you were to him. You wouldn’t compromise your ideals for anyone—not again.

When he changed his tactics from texting to calling, you ignored those too. You were tempted to answer, and on several occasions, you almost did until your stubbornness triumphed. You were victorious until one night in your room as you soaked in the tub after another long day. His phone rang loudly. Somehow you knew it was him. You didn’t know how, but you knew. When you reached for it and glanced at the screen, you loudly groaned as your suspicions proved correct. Closing your eyes, you tried to decide on if you’d answer or not.

“Hello?”

“Hi.” His voice sounded so damn good, and by the way, your belly flipped, you knew it agreed.

“Hey,” you nonchalantly replied.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Uh, not really. Not unless you call catching me in the bath a bad time,” you teased.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Henry quickly stammered.

“It’s fine. How can I help you?”

Yeah, it was slightly cold, but maybe cold was the right way to be. “Hello? Henry?”

You heard him release a puff of breath. You could imagine what it smelled like. You couldn’t picture it.

“Whew, this is the second time I’ve heard you say my name, and it had the same effect as the first time.”

Your belly again flipped. It was becoming a normal reaction to his words.

“What was the effect of the first time?”

He didn’t speak immediately, and after a minute of silence, you wondered if he would.

“So I’m about two weeks away from finishing reshoots and prep for season two for Witcher and I really, really need some time off. I had no idea how much the process had run me down. I am physically exhausted,” he mentioned.

“A lot of action, huh. I saw some episodes of the first season.”

“Nice. Yeah, it’s a lot of working out and fight training. It goes on and on,” he explained.

“Poor thing.” You were teasing him, and when he chuckled, you were glad he caught it and didn’t take offense from your condescending tone. The lite humor worked to ease away any tension in the air between you.

“This is strange. I’m talking to someone on their cell phone while they talk to me on mine.”

“I can see how that would be strange,” Henry replied.

Silence fell between you again. It was a mixture of a comfortable one and one of nervousness.

“I have to tell you before I miss my chance. You have the most amazing voice I have ever heard, and you’re an amazing artist.”

With a racing heart and a wide grin on your face, you closed your eyes and tried to get control over the butterflies in your belly. It took you several moments to get a grip. This was not the first time you’d gotten a compliment like this, but this was the first time it made you feel like this.

“Thank you. That’s—kind of you to say.”

“Just stating facts. I’ve always been a fan of your music,” Henry added.

“Thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome. How’s work?”

You sighed and dropped your head back on the cushion there. “Exhausting. I need a vacation or to stop getting on a plane. It takes a lot out of me,” you confessed.

“We both need a vacation it seems,” Henry began. The way his voice sounded had you lifting your head to read between the lines.

“Are you insinuating that we should take a vacation together?”

“I wasn’t insinuating anything. I was thinking it, though. Seems you read my mind. Sounds like a good idea.”

You snorted as soon as he finished. “How? We don’t know each other,” you piped up.

“What’s a better way to get to know each other than on vacation?”

Your jaw dropped. The man was insane. “You’re crazy. That’s a horrible idea.”

“Tomato, tomato.”

Your laugh was loud and almost uncontrollable. You had to give it to him, his sense of humor was top notch.

“Plus, after our date in a few days, we’ll know each other better,” Henry confidently slid in.

“What date?”

“The date you want to show up for when we exchange phones.”

Usually, this level of cockiness in a man was unattractive. You’d left plenty of them hanging for far less. With him, you found yourself not hating the cocky spiel maybe because it came off as something else—intoxicating confidence.

“I hear an accent, too,” Henry said, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“What accent?”

“An Australian one. It’s faint on most words but heavy on a few.” You smiled. You’d thought it had mainly disappeared by now.

“Not many people can hear it,” you clarified.

“I’m good with accents and languages. I know French, some Italian, a few words and phrases in German and Czech.”

You decided to test that theory.

“Combien de temps at-il fallu pour apprendre le français?” (How long did it take you to learn French?)

“Peu de temps peut être cinq mois.” (Not long maybe five months.) Henry responded in perfect French.

A thrill filled you.

"Und Deutsch?”

"Deutsch dauerte länger etwa acht Monate.” (German took longer about eight months) Henry replied in perfect enough German.

“You speak French and German?”

“A very little bit, trust me, it wasn’t my idea. You sound like a native, though,” you complimented.

“Thanks. I try.”

The longer you spoke, the more intrigued you became by him, and the more intrigued you became, the more attracted to him you became. You checked the phone and saw you’d already been talking for almost forty minutes. It didn’t feel nearly that long, though. You could hear his breathing through the phone. It wasn’t heavy breathing, but soft breaths that you imagines were pleasantly warm. When you thought it, you dropped your head back to the cushion in frustration.

“It’s pretty late here, and I have an early call tomorrow,” you began.

“Right, I’m sorry to have kept you up.”

“It’s okay—I guess.”

“All right, have a good night,” Henry ended.

“Goodbye, Henry.”

You ended the call and sank low in the water, but not low enough to wet your hair.

“I don’t need this now,” you groaned out before you slapped your hand on top of the water creating a small wave that splashed over the edge of the tub and cascaded onto the floor. You had to figure out a way to nip this in the bud.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

@dangerouslovefanfic @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @momobaby227 @naturalthrone22 @emjayewrites @chaneajoyyy @caramara3 @kikimiyazaki@sonjashuterbugjohnson @minton131 @aar-journey @sincerelyglowing @theonewithherheadintheclouds @shar74nett @mrsbarnes-rogers @livinglifeformemyselfandi @night-of-the-living-shred @munteanhorewrites @kittykatlow @give-me-a-million-dollars-pls @simply-heaven @winchwm @maximumninjavoid @offrostandstarlight @angrybirdcr @sausagefest1996 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @bellaamor88 @alyxkbrl @hello-therree @mery-be @that-chick212 @smuttywriter @ljstraightnochaser @ jd-now-jq @mrsbarnes-rogers @melanicia @live-laugh-love-ki @melanicia

***There are a few that are bold that I tried to tag but your @ wasn’t coming up. I’m not sure why. I’m sorry.***

#kismet fic #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x black reader #black fanfiction #henry cavill x ofc #slow burn fanfic

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purplesunrisefanfic · 4 years ago

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A long-ass defence of the unsexy sex scene between Abby and Owen.

(No pictures of it are included here because gross)

So, at the risk of alienating pretty much everyone who follows me, I actually think **that** scene with Abby and O🤢🤢n is a worthwhile storytelling element, and I see why that scene was included but not a Dina/Ellie one. (Even though “I wish things were different.”)

With Dina/Ellie, they love each other, they have a fairly healthy relationship, they have chemistry. Everything that, story-wise, needs to be shown can be (and was) shown without needing a full sex scene. Yeah, I would really like to see a sex scene between them, for sure, but I can’t pretend that because I think there’s vital story elements hidden in there. Not at all because, let’s be honest, we KNOW they had great sex. No one who wants that scene wants it because they’re wondering if they had good sex or not, we want it because we wanna see some great sex.

You‘re not seriously doubting that I’m good in bed, are you?

I’m not dissing us for that, representation matters, and I think Neil made a HUGE error of judgement when he spoke about a sex scene in a context where we’d all assume it was Dina/Ellie. (And that was a moment of terrible judgment that I would be classing as queerbaiting has it not been for the SO FUCKING MUCH groundbreakingly excellent representation in Part 2. In this case, I think it was an example of how even when you work really hard at things you can still make mistakes, still be thoughtless to how much impact you can accidents have on a representation-starved group. And yeah, it’s not easy to let him off the hook for something that important to me, but I do think he’s done enough overall to earn an assumption of good faith here. Not least because I don’t really don’t think anyone’s purchase actually hinged on whether we saw a Dina/Ellie sex scene vs a make out scene and a well-developed queer relationship, and the whole point of queerbaiting is to manipulate us into buying or consuming things we otherwise wouldn’t.)

But to get back to the main point, I think it’s important to recognise that we don’t wish we’d had that scene because we feel like there’s something vital to the story that we don’t know for not seeing it. We have good reasons for wanting that scene, but thinking that we missed out on some vital characterisation, relationship or story elements isn’t one of them.

Now, the sex scene that we do see is very different. First thing I wanna say is that this isn’t a sex scene that only lesbians or people who dislike Owen find to be uncomfortable. I’ve seen some critiques where I feel like a gulf might have opened up with that. Where it’s maybe kinda of assumed that if you are into that type of sex and don’t hate Owen, then that’s an equivalent to the Dina/Ellie scene that we didn’t get, and it’s NOT. Dina and Ellie having sex for the first time is a situation that opens a door (a door which then walk through with them in other ways, such as the small moments of love and bonding that we see portrayed so beautifully) while Abby/Owen having sex for the last time is a scene about reaching a dead end. It’s about realising that the past is a dead end. It’s a scene that I’ve not seen anyone, even people who didn’t find it uncomfortable, describe as sexy.

Abby has dwelled on the past for four years. She trained herself up to kill Joel. She took no notice of what she was doing and who she was becoming in the present because all she thought about was the past. She ended up “top Scar killer” without really noticing (though that point is more my subjective opinion than the other points here, but I see no evidence she was proud or that or even really trying to achieve that). She killed kids and parents ruthlessly without paying any mind to her own morals or whether she even wanted to be a Wolf at all, because she was living in the past, getting whatever the job in the present was done without asking any questions because her head was never there. Everything she did as a Wolf was just a means to survive long to find Joel and be in a position to kill him when she did.

Eventually, as we know, she does find and kill Joel, and the experience doesn’t give her any of the closure she imagined. Her friendship groups fracture, her self-image is damaged, and she’s now both without closure and without purpose. But she still hasn’t quite figured out why. She hasn’t yet realised that dwelling on the past is the problem. Her ex is still in the picture, an ex that she lost “because of Joel” (in the sense that the main tensions we see in their relationship are linked to Abby’s dedication to revenge).

So caught up in revenge through 4 formative years of life, she’s not had the space to develop in ways she likely would have otherwise. She hasn’t moved past the idyllic childhood sweethearts idea, she’s not moved on to thinking about what she actually wants and needs in a partner. She’s not even noticed that her friends have moved on to more adult relationships, relationships where you might settle down with children, until she’s shocked into that realisation by the news that Mel is pregnant. (This is similar to a point Druckmann has made in an interview.)

Even then, the way she talks about suggests she’s still struggling with seeing the present clearly. She talks about it (especially to herself in Jackson) as if they are still teens, as they are 16ish and should have been more careful. There’s ample evidence, in my interpretation, that Abby’s ability to notice the present, to notice change, and to grow up herself has been near-stunted for the 4 years between Jerry’s death and Joel’s death.

So when she has sex with Owen, it’s another way of looking back. It’s another attempt to look for a future in her past, and I think that to really see and understand just how much she has tried to find a future in the past, and how much that has led her to betray her own values, betray her friends, and to be blinkered to the consequences of her own actions and how she finally realises all of this herself, we need to see the sex.

Because the sex is like the receipts. Like the death certificate for the long-overdue passing of her idea that her future can be made good by a fixation on the past.

Say they had had a shitty kiss instead. Well, that could be Owen holding back because he’s torn about Mel. They could be Abby holding back because she’s torn about Mel. If they do anything less than completely betray Mel, then there’s still room for Abby to believe that, if Mel were to suddenly never had existed or whatever, that her and Owen would be 16yo idyllic sweethearts forever.

So they have to totally betray Mel, they have to have clearly and totally disregarded her, for us (and for Abby) to see their relationship clearly. So it has to be sex. And for us to share in that process in Abby’s mind, the realisation that life has moved on, the realisation that her love for him is based on assuming nothing much has changed in 4 years when it has, the realisation that the past is dead end, we have to be with her for that.

Then we can see how she’s gotten to where she is and how she finally realises that there’s nothing that the past can give her. And then, she’s finally ready to see the present for what it is. She’s finally ready to see that what she does in the present matters, that she can chose whether or not two children live or die, and that she should focus on that. She’s ready to see that Owen was a guy she loved 4 years ago, not a guy she loves today. She’s ready to “Let It Go!(sorry, couldn’t resist!). She’s ready to question whether she’s actually this person who wants to be “top Scar killer.” We’re able to see just how much of herself has been lost on her revenge journey, how she can get on a better path, and why we think she’s worth having that chance. I don’t think that story could come together so richly without the visceral discomfort and the layered realisations that seeing her having (imo terrible, some folks have gone as far as “mediocre” and I’ve genuinely seen no-one rate it any higher) sex with Owen.

Abby: I’d rather watch 10 live amputations and have my own arm amputated than ever have sex with Owen again. In fact, I’d struggle to choose between sex with him and sex with the Rat King at this point.

Yara: I think you should try your luck with fucking the Rat King, can’t be any worse, can it?

Side point: This argument also touches on why I don’t believe that Abby is categorically canonically straight, because her whole arc relies on her being too stuck in the past to consider who she’s actually attracted to in the present. Normally, it’s kinda on the people making the media to show us queerness and not expect us to be satisfied that “well, they could be bisexual because we’ve never said they aren’t,” but I think TLOU does enough in terms of active representation to merit an exception, especially when there’s a strong storytelling reason why we never see anything of what she’s into beyond her childhood sweetheart. (I’m not saying she’s def bi, just that I think saying she’s canonically straight is dicey and that, unlike with almost any other form of media where I’m with y’all in the “straight until otherwise proven” approach, with Abby specifically I find it does give me some of the bi erasure feels that I get all the time irl when people describe her as canonically straight.)

I’m gonna pick Lev up from Scar Island, then find myself a hot woman who likes big arms, boats, and my precious adopted children.

#tlou #abby anderson #the last of us #tlou2 #the last of us part 2 #tlou2 spoilers #spoilers #discussion #opinion #my thoughts

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queenk00k · 4 years ago

Text

but what if we were pure gold all along? jj maybank (chapter 4)

Summary: After the assumed death of their best friend, the Pogues are falling apart at the seams. With Pope and Kiara getting closer and JJ left with nowhere to go, he finds himself left to his own devices. Feeling lost and rejected, his luck seems to turn when he meets Scarlett - a Kook who doesn’t treat him like shit and has an affinity for partying. JJ gets sucked into her world as she promises to help him forget.

How much longer can he keep running from his demons? And what happens when he starts sharing a bed with one?

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, child abuse, angst, sexual content, drug use, underage drinking.

Author’s note: Hi all, this is my multi-chapter fic I’ve been working on. My oneshots & Rafe series have taken off so I thought it was time to share this one too. Let me know what you think!

Word count: 2K

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

the one where JJ makes his choice pretty clear

After two weeks of spending almost every waking minute with his new friend, JJ is starting to wonder if he’ll be able to keep up with her for much longer. Scarlett’s appetite for debauchery and disaster was insatiable and despite JJ’s best efforts to slow her down (“why don’t we just get lunch?” “why the fuck would we do that?”), she seemed intent on showing JJ a good time, Kook style.

After the initial night at Scarlett’s family mansion, where JJ climbed in her bedroom window like some sort of roughed up Edward Cullen and they drank their way through her mother’s gin collection, it had become a habit of JJ’s to seek Scarlett out at any opportunity. Not only was she the only person who seemed to want to spend time with him, something JJ was still reconciling, but God was she fun. Scarlett took quickly to riding on the back of JJ’s dirt bike, sharing a joint and even had a go at shooting JJ’s gun (a short lived adventure, since a firing mishap caused JJ to leap to the side of the yard to avoid losing a pinky toe). Scarlett was easy to spend time with, a breath of fresh air and a reprieve from the drama and darkness JJ had been experiencing when he last saw the Pogues.

Who, by the way, have still neglected to get in contact with him.

JJ has been holding onto false hope. He’s swinging between complete disbelief and hurt that his friends haven’t spoken to him in two weeks, and almost blinding rage that he apparently means so little to them. He doesn’t often have that much time to dwell on it though, since every time he’s remotely upset or quiet as a result of his former-but-the-jury’s-still-out-on-that friends, Scarlett is there to pick him right up and distract him in all the ways she knows how.

They spend most of their nights drinking on the beach or at Scarlett’s house, where her parents are never really around, since JJ swore up and down that he was never going to a Kook party with Scarlett. She had tried to convince him to no avail and gave up pretty quickly when JJ pointed out Rafe Cameron would most likely be in attendance, since he wasn’t even trying to lay low after literally murdering someone, and JJ was not going to be held liable for any injuries he may cause. So they settled for each other’s company – sharing joints that JJ taught Scarlett how to roll, stacking beer bottles, going on late night motorbike rides and in one instance, seeing how easily they could blow something up. It didn’t take much convincing for JJ to change his phone background, the cracked screen now giving way to a photo of him and Scarlett messing about on his bike.

Simply put, JJ is trying his best to forget about the whole “one of my best friends is missing and presumed dead and the others don’t even want to talk to me” situation.

Scarlett is a nice distraction.

It helps that she’s gorgeous.

JJ isn’t stupid, he knows he’s spending time with someone absolutely beautiful and at times he struggles to understand why she would want to slum it with him. He’s not immune to how soft her thigh is when it brushes against his, or how her smile always reaches her eyes where the skin around them creases as she laughs, or how cute she looks with her dark hair tied up. JJ figures she must think something of him too – he notices how her hands linger longer on his waist when he brings his bike to a halt, how she’s affectionately started calling him Jay, and he certainly hasn’t forgotten how Scarlett kissed him on the cheek as he left her house last night.

JJ is as shocked as anyone would be that he’s started hanging out with a Kook, let alone calling her his friend and admitting to himself that he finds her hot. He’d be stupid not to, he is a sixteen-year-old guy after all, and she’s a stunning rich girl with a pert ass and deep brown eyes. He’s only human.

A knock on the front door of the Chateau brings JJ out of his reverie and he swings his legs around to hop off the couch where he’s been lying for the last three hours. After another late night at Scarlett’s the evening before, JJ somehow made his way home to crash on the couch to get some sleep before Scarlett was due to come over.

JJ runs his hand through his messy blonde hair and pads over to the door, yawning widely as he pulls it open. Scarlett is standing on the porch steps, dressed in her usual sundress and holding two six packs.

She lifts both arms up in excitement as she says “Jay! Long time no see!”

JJ shakes his head and smiles softly to himself, stepping aside to let Scarlett walk in the front door. She twirls dramatically as she crosses the threshold and makes a direct beeline for the fridge, bottles clanking as she shoves them onto the shelf.

JJ follows her and leans against the kitchen doorframe, accepting a bottle of beer and popping the cap off with his sharp incisor.

“Welcome back, Scarlett. It’s only been, what, ten hours since we last saw each other?”

Scarlett rolls her eyes. “What, you got something better to do?”

JJ laughs hoarsely as he replies, “you know the answer to that.”

Scarlett bumps her hip into his as she squeezes through to doorway and winks at him. “I need to sit down,” she says. “I’m beat.”

JJ adjust the front of his shorts and grimaces. It appears he needed to relax too.

He makes his way to the living room with a half full beer bottle, the condensation coating his fingers and making the neck of the bottle slippery. JJ notices Scarlett has already downed one drink and is making some good headway on her second, before he decides to tilt the bottle down and away from her lips.

Scarlett glares at him and purses said lips, and JJ fights the urge to stare at them, forcing his eyes to remain locked on hers.

“What did you do that for?” She asks, looking grumpy.

JJ thinks she looks cute.

He shrugs. “Maybe you could slow down. It’s 3pm,” he replies.

“Hair of the dog,” Scarlett says as she completely defies JJ’s suggestion and finishes her second bottle, letting out a small burp as she does.

“Oops,” she giggles.

JJ sighs but he’s not mad, not really, and he lets Scarlett know by patting her on the knee, resting his hand there for slightly longer than necessary.

“Drink up wuss,” Scarlett says, winking at him and JJ would be stupid not to do what she says, so he downs his beer too and cracks open another one.

Scarlett is scrolling through her Spotify and trying to get it Bluetooth connected to the old speakers next to the couch (JJ has told her before that it won’t work but she’s stubborn, alright, and insists on trying), and JJ is sat in quiet contemplation on the couch when a sharp knock on the door reverberates through the room.

Scarlett’s head snaps up, her top bun bobbing as she turns towards JJ, eyes wide.

“Who’s that?” She asks. They weren’t expecting any guests.

“Shit,” says JJ, standing up and placing his beer on the floor. “It’s probably my Dad. Fuck.”

“Your dad? What is he doing here?”

JJ shakes his head and presses a finger to his lips. “Stay here, do not come out under any circumstances, you understand? I’ll talk to him for a bit and then hopefully he’ll fuck off, but if anything happens, just go out the back door okay?”

Scarlett narrows her eyes in confusion. “And just leave you here? No way.”

Another series of sharp knocks, this time more urgent.

“Scarlett, I don’t have time to argue. Just tell me you’ll get out of here, okay?”

Scarlett looks like she has the time to argue but nods anyway. “Okay.”

JJ steels himself and sets his jaw as he cautiously walks down the hallway and opens the front door.

It’s Kiara and Pope.

JJ blinks slowly. “What are you doing here?” He says abruptly, skipping the pleasantries.

Kiara looks at him, bemused. “No ‘hey Kie, nice to see you?’”

JJ scoffs. “No offence, Kiara, but I’m not too sure you deserve that right now.”

Kiara opens her mouth to respond, ever the hot-headed one, when Pope has the right idea to butt in.

“We missed you man; can we talk?” He says, fiddling with his cap.

JJ steps out onto the porch, leaving the door slightly ajar. “Yeah, we can talk. Where the fuck have you been?”

“It’s complicated-”

“-I couldn’t see you-”

“-it’s been really hard for us-”

JJ has to laugh at that one, and he turns to Kiara, eyes ablaze with fury. “It’s been really hard for you? Are you fucking kidding me? YOU LEFT ME! ALONE!”

Kiara steps back from JJ, as if she’s scared, and Pope brings his hand to the small of her back to comfort her.

“Come on man, there’s no need-”

“Where were you, Kiara? Why didn’t you talk to me?”

Kiara’s dark eyes fill with tears and her chin starts to wobble. “JJ, you know my parents, they had me on lockdown-”

JJ can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You could see Pope.”

“He’s my boyfriend JJ, and you’ve always known what my parents think-”

Pope has the good grace to stay quiet and let them at it.

“So what the fuck am I then? Huh?”

JJ wouldn’t have noticed Scarlett sneaking up behind him if it weren’t for the sudden hardened look in Kiara’s eyes.

JJ spins around, jaw clenched, as Scarlett asks, “What’s going on here?”

Kiara’s mouth drops open. “A Kook, JJ? Seriously? You’re fucking a Kook?”

JJ’s mouth opens and closes as he struggles to reply. “I-we’re not, we’re friends-we aren’t-”

“This is unbelievable,” Kiara spits. “I thought better of you JJ.”

Scarlett stares Kiara down, folding her arms across her chest.

“She was here for me, Kiara! You weren’t! You were NOWHERE TO BE FOUND! Some fucking friend you are!” JJ shouts.

Kiara looks like she wants to stay more but she decides against it as she simply mutters “unbelievable,” and throws her hands up, walking away.

JJ’s chest heaves and heart pounds with adrenaline as Pope looks at him apologetically.

“Man, I’m sorry, I have to go too, she’s my girlfriend-”

JJ cuts him off. “Whatever man; just leave. You’re good at that anyways.”

Pope looks hurt but simply nods at JJ and turns to run after Kiara as she stalks down the driveway, long cardigan flowing behind her.

Scarlett sighs and places her hand delicately on JJ’s shoulder, and it takes everything in him not to lean into her touch.

“Drink?” She says.

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trashscenariihxh · 4 years ago

Text

Last Call Lay- Tonpa

Dear lord what have I done

It’s nearly 2 am, and the bartender has just announced the last call. You approach the bar, order a gin and tonic and close out your tab. You survey the room, which is filled with the last stragglers of the evening. A luridly dressed middle-aged woman sucking on her nth cigarette that night, two unshaven men in tattered suits at the pool table, a small gathering of young men who look far too young to be drinking. You like to think that you look out of place, but the reality is, you’re no different from everyone else in the bar: you don’t want to go home alone.

You catch sight of him out of the corner of your eye. He’s sitting alone at the end of the bar, staring into a glass of what looks like whiskey. You take a moment to appraise him. He’s clearly the wrong side of 40, his clothes have seen better days, and he looks like he could do with a shave. Far from perfect, but he is enough.

Grabbing your glass, you head over to him, trying your best to hide your intentions. It’s a hopeless endeavor. After all, why else does anyone strike up a conversation with a complete stranger fifteen minutes to closing?

“Come here often?” you say, chuckling at your blatant use of the cliche.

The man blinks as if surprised by the attention, and turns to you. “Me? Ah, no, no. I just happen to be in town.”

“Ah.” You take a seat next to him, bring your glass to your lips and take a sip, grimacing at the acrid taste of bottom-shelf liquor. “How do you like it?”

“A bar is a bar.” He shrugs.

You bite your lip. You’re losing him. “So, what brings you here?” you press, scooting your chair imperceptibly closer to his. To your relief, he looks at you again, and his face relaxes into a smile.

“I’m here for the Hunter exam.”

Hunter exam? Despite yourself, you look him up and down, taking him in. You don’t know much about the Hunter exam, but he doesn’t look like Hunter material to you.

“Hunter exam, huh?” You take another sip of your drink. “You ready for it?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” His smile broadens. “I’ve taken it loads of times. More than anyone in the history of the Hunter Association, in fact. I consider it an honor, if I do say so myself.”

You marvel at him. You would expect someone to be ashamed of so many failures, but he seems absolutely pleased with himself. Proud. Almost smug. You proceed carefully, not wanting to offend him. The prospect of going home with this homely man is unappealing, but the idea of going home alone seems so much worse. You press on.

“So what’s it like? The Hunter exam?”

“Oh it’s difficult. It changes every year. Different stages, different examiners, different risks..” His expression darkens, his easy smile turning into a leer. “Different applicants. New and hopeful.” He seems to notice your surprise at the change in his expression, and an instant later, his face relaxes again. “Gotta love those rookies.”

“Good luck to them.” You force a smile. “I’m ____, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

“Tonpa.” He nods cordially before briefly turning back to his drink. You don’t miss the slight look of relief that passes over his face. Perhaps he has guessed your intentions. Perhaps he’s just as afraid of going home alone as you are.

“Nice to meet you, Tonpa.” You smile again, and this time it’s more genuine. Warmer. He seems like a nice enough guy…

“So when’s the exam?” you continue conversationally, jostling the ice in your glass with the straw.

“Eh? In a couple of days.”

You nod. “Nervous?”

He shakes his head. “Not really.”

Your lips curve into a smirk. “If I was going to take the Hunter Exam, I know I’d be nervous. I’d hardly be able to sleep.”

He laughs as he finishes his drink. “I’ve never had a problem with that. I sleep like the dead.”

“I wish I could say the same.” You use your straw to flick the lime wedge off the edge of your glass. You’re about to ask him more of the usual questions about himself, but the music fades and the lights come on. It’s time to leave. It’s now or never.

“I guess it’s time to head out.” You stand. “Guess I’ll go home.” You pause, wondering if you really want to do this. You give Tonpa a final once over before you make your decision: he’ll do. “Do you wanna come?”

“Huh?” Tonpa looks surprised. “You mean, to your place?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” His surprise turns into jubilance, as if he can’t believe his luck. “Sure.”

You take his hand and guide him out, shivering in the crisp autumn air. The alcohol doesn’t take the bite out of the cold.

The two of you stand in silence as you try to hail a cab. You curse when one drives right past you.

“You know,” Tonpa says, casting you a sidelong glance, “we could just go back to my hotel. It’s within walking distance. If you still want to.”

Do you? Part of you thinks you’re still too sober, but again, you desire to not go home alone wins out. As you and Tonpa start heading towards his place, you begin to justify your actions to yourself. Perhaps it’s better, you reason, to go to his place rather than to yours. It’s closer, and it’s cold out. Besides, you can leave whenever you feel like it, whereas otherwise you’d have to awkwardly wait for him to get the hint and go in the morning.

The walk to Tonpa’s hotel is mercifully short; you’re eager to get out of the cold. The room itself is small and simple, and surprisingly tidy considering Tonpa’s decidedly untidy appearance.

“Well,” Tonpa starts unsurely, shuffling his feet. “Here we are.”

“Yeah.” You nod. “Here we are.”

You stand in silence for a few moments; the pleasant inebriation is starting to wear off, and you figure that it’s now or never. Without putting too much thought into it, you step into him and kiss him softly.

Tonpa stiffens for a moment before relaxing into your touch. His arms snake around your waist and pull you closer.

He tastes like alcohol. You pull back, not wanting to delay the inevitable with something as inconsequential as kissing. You tug impatiently at his tunic before deciding that it’s better to just take care of your own clothes. Tonpa follows suit, and it isn’t long before you’re tumbling, naked, into bed.

The greasy yellow light casts shadows over the room and makes the bedsheets seem dingier than they probably are. You don’t have time to dwell on this though, because Tonpa’s kissing you again, pawing at your breasts as he pushes you down onto the bed. You part your legs to let him settle between them, taking note of his hardening cock. Part of you had wondered whether he’d be able to perform after so many drinks, but it seems as though the alcohol hasn’t had too great of an effect on him.

You grunt as Tonpa reaches between your bodies to stroke between your legs. His fingers are rough, callused; a hiss escapes your lips as he pushes one inside you. You’re not particularly wet, but the alcohol has done its job. You’re eager to get off and be done with it.

You feel smothered as Tonpa’s weight bears down on you, so you push against his shoulders to roll him onto his back. Tonpa complies without issue, seemingly happy just to have you in his bed.

He’s fully hard now. “Just a sec,” you mumble, alighting from the bed to rummage through your purse, searching for the little foil square you keep for moments such as this. Condom in hand, you return to the bed. “Put this on.” You toss it towards him, noting how clumsy his fingers are as he tears the packet open and rolls the condom onto his cock.

Satisfied, you straddle his hips and, not wanting to waste any more time, lower yourself down onto him. You close your eyes as he pushes in. He’s not particularly big, but you don’t particularly mind. It’s enough. You keep your eyes closed as you begin rocking your hips. Your movements are quick, frantic even. Desperation courses through your veins as you chase your release, not caring much for the pleasure of the man beneath you.

Tonpa lets out a groan, and you suspect he’s already close. Perhaps it’s been a long time for him. You neither know nor care.

You begin to rub your clit as you feel your orgasm start to build. It hits you all at once; you shudder on top of him as your release washes over you.

You briefly consider stopping there and letting Tonpa finish himself off, but you decide to keep going. A courtesy. It doesn’t take long for Tonpa to find his own release; he cums with a deep groan.

Your movements cease immediately and you lift yourself off of him. With a soft sigh, you stand, padding over to where your clothes lay piled on the floor.

“You leaving?” Tonpa asks as he sits up, removing the condom and tossing it into a nearby trash can.

“Yeah.”

“It’s late. You can stay if you want.”

“I’ll call a cab.” You offer him a smile as you pull on your clothes.

“Suit yourself.” Tonpa yawns and flops back down onto the bed. “I wouldn’t mind going again, though.”

“I’m tired.”

He hums, unfazed by the rejection. “Fair enough.”

Fully dressed, you smooth your rumpled dress and run a hand through your mussed hair. You don’t want to look too much like you just engaged in a desperate last call lay, but you suppose that it’s inevitable. Why else would you be out at 4 am?

“Well,” you say, grabbing your purse and surveying the room. “See you around.” You’re fairly certain you won’t, but what else can you say?

“Yeah.” Tonpa’s voice is already thick with sleep.

“Hey.” You smile at him again, knowing that he’s not awake enough to see it.

“Hm?”

“Good luck with the Hunter Exam.”

Tonpa doesn’t answer, save for a quiet snore. He’s already fallen asleep.

Slipping on your shoes, you quietly leave the room. You want to get home, shower, and go to bed before the shame sets in.

As it turns out, the shame hits you during the cab ride back. You rest your forehead against the car window, watching the streetlights fly past. Silently, you promise yourself that this is the last one, the final one night stand. You know fully well, however, that this is a lie.

#smuttastic #tonpa #oh lord this is cursed #poor reader #it's meant to be kind of sad

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theshipsfirstmate · 4 years ago

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Agents of SHIELD Fic: Come On, Sweet Catastrophe

post-7x09 dousy (sousy? daisysous?) angst and talking and a little bit of sweetness. Because Daisy’s got some stuff to work through.

Title from “Hurricane” by Something Corporate, because yes, I was an aughts emo kid and yes, “you don’t do it on purpose, but you make me shake” was a line written for Daisy Johnson.

Come On, Sweet Catastrophe (AO3 - wc: 2393)

She and Coulson sit there with Enoch for what feels like forever. Even after he’s gone, even after they’re out of danger, even after Mack sends the all clear over the comms, they just sit there in silence.

She had told him, however many loops ago, how sure she was that they’d figure it out. She should have known it would go like this. They’re not that lucky. There’s no victory without consequence these days, not when the stakes get higher every time she looks up.

Sousa is the first of the team to get to them, of course he is. She can’t even pretend that she’s confused about why anymore. She knows now, just like she knows how frightened he looks when he’s about to die.

“Daisy!”

He says her name when he sees her slumped on the floor, and looking up at him is enough to push forward the tears that have been threatening to fall.

She’s not sure who moves first, but she’s reaching for him as he’s crouching to help her to her feet and it feels more natural than it should when she turns and buries her face in the crook of his neck.

“You did it,” he whispers, and it’s not as comforting as she hoped it might be.

She nods against his shoulder, taking in a deep breath as a fresh wave of grief and worry threatens to take her knees out from under her. “But, Enoch...“

“I know.” Daisy loosens her grip to see May and Mack are already seeing to the body.

“Why did he-”

“It was the only way.” Coulson answers before she can finish the question — even though she’s not entirely sure it’s the one she was trying to ask.

Deke nods in agreement, swiping at his cheeks with a jacket sleeve. Simmons can’t meet her eyes.

Suddenly, inside her, the sadness begins to crystallize into something darker. Coulson was right, it’s a special kind of devastation to be the one carrying the memories of all the failed loops. It feels almost like her childhood, packing her lonely memories into those flimsy black trash bags when it came time to move on to the next home. She can blink and see Mack going blind, Simmons gasping for breath, Sousa falling to the ground right in front of her.

And they’ll all leave her again, Enoch had warned with his last breaths. A bitter, angry dread pushes its way up her throat, blurring her vision and crawling across her skin, and an old familiar instinct returns.

She pushes Sousa back a step and turns for the door, ignoring his confused look and the way he calls her first name again as she leaves without a word.

_______________

The thing about this ship, she’s learned over the years, is that there’s really nowhere to run away. She makes it to the loading bay before setting down in an exhausted huff, and when Sousa follows moments later, taking the seat next to her, it feels like deja vu. Daisy remembers the fire in his eyes when he talked about taking on HYDRA single-handedly if he had to, remembers how it had ignited something in her own chest.

She remembers how he had told her time wasn’t the only thing he’d lost in the fight so far. She remembers wanting to tell him that she knows that feeling too.

Now, he just sits in silence, waiting for her to make the first move. When she finally does speak, she wonders if she surprises them both.

“When all of this is over, if we survive,” she asks, even as the odds of that seem lower than ever after today, “would you want to go back?”

“What do you mean?”

“Back to 1955. Back to your life.”

“I-I couldn’t. I’m dead, remember?” There’s a crinkle in the corner of his eyes, but his gaze is serious and she can tell he’s trying to feign a playful response to put her at ease.

She’s had countless extra time to try and figure him out, but when, in the midst of all this chaos, did he learn to read her so well?

“You work for S.H.I.E.L.D.” She adds a sarcastic eye roll for good measure, and hates herself immediately for it. “I think they could figure out how to keep that secret. Or you could have a whole new life, travel the world, I don’t know.”

“Why are you asking me this?”

It’s a fair question, and one for which she has no good answer. Maybe she’s selfishly trying to get him to reveal even more of himself to her. Maybe she’s trying to push him away proactively, to blow this up before it can even really begin.

“Just wondering, if you could. You said it yourself, there were some goodbyes…”

“Daisy.” It’s sharp, but not angry. He knows what she’s up to, even if he has no idea why. Even if she’s not entirely sure herself.

She sighs, and looks down at where her fingernails are dug into her thighs.

“You don’t call me Agent Johnson.”

“No,” he answers, immediately back on an even keel. “I guess I don’t.”

“You call the others by their last names,” she ventures, forcing herself to meet his eyes again.

“Yeah, I do.” This time the crinkle is genuine, and her heart gives a warning thud in her chest.

She wants to tell him everything. How many times she woke to find him at her bedside. How he’d sacrificed himself without a second thought, trusting her completely. How he had answered so simply when she asked why he cared.

(“Because you don’t.” Not a moment’s hesitation, nothing ulterior about it. The same way he’s had her back since the first day they met.)

She wants to tell him that she’s ashamed for only working up the courage to kiss him after she knew what it felt like to lose him.

But she decides to tell him something else instead.

“HYDRA destroyed my family,” she says softly. Out of the corner of her eye she watches his right hand flex into a fist. “They tortured and killed my mother, and drove my father mad, and left me alone in this world.”

She takes a deep shuddering breath and purposely doesn’t meet his eyes. “S.H.I.E.L.D. gave me a purpose, and a home, and if it’s all falling apart, I don’t know what I...”

I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t know who I’m going to be. I don’t know how I’m going to survive.

The violent voice in her head is silenced, though, when Sousa reaches out gently to take her hand in his.

“Did you learn something, in one of the loops?” he asks. She has to stop herself from scoffing — if only he knew — but she doesn’t pull away. It feels like she’s mere moments from coming completely apart, and that’s the last thing they have time for right now.

“Enoch, as he died, he warned us that this would be our last mission together,” she tells him. “I can’t even imagine a world where that’s true.”

Sousa hesitates but only for a moment.

“Well, it’s not like we haven’t changed the future plenty already.” Of course he still has faith. Of course he’s still unflinchingly in her corner. It shouldn’t surprise her, of all people. She’s the one that watched him wake up in that uncomfortable chair time and time again, ready to give her any support she needed.

“But Daisy,” he continues, “you’re not giving yourself enough credit. For as much as S.H.I.E.L.D. made you, you made it what it is, too.”

His eyes are just as earnest as she expects them to be when she finally looks up. And it feels like her whole rib cage splinters when he gives her hand a little squeeze and continues.

“I know your type. You’re the kind of person who fights tooth and nail to hold onto the things she loves. If you have any say at all, you’re not going to lose this family.”

It’s impossibly unfair to hold against him things that he hasn’t even said in this timeline, but she can’t help it. It’s the only part of his whole lovely sentiment that she actually hears clearly. “I know your type.” It echoes in her eardrums, throbs at the base of her skull.

It was perhaps the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to her, his little lost speech about being there to pick her back up, and it makes her ache to think about how it didn’t really happen at all. Not for him, at least.

But he’s still sitting here, isn’t he? He chased her down to hold her hand and look at her with those earnest eyes. It’s a look that tells her he’d give that speech all over again if she asked him to.

She wonders what Peggy Carter felt when he looked at her like that.

“Did you love her?”

It is absolutely, categorically, not at all the question she planned on asking him. Probably ever. But it’s the one that comes out.

He blinks, and then shrugs, pulling his hand away, and she realizes: this is what it looks like when he’s shaken. If she could reach out and take it back, she would in a second.

“I, uh- I don’t know,” he admits. “I think so. We didn’t really get a chance to…”

Now he’s the one who won’t meet her eyes, and it’s agonizing. He rolls with the punches so well, but Daisy should have known that there would be a breaking point. He lost 30 years — his whole life — in a blink, and the fact that he doesn’t dwell on it publicly is no excuse for her carelessness.

He even told her, back in that speech she can’t forget, that things weigh heavier on him than he lets on — and she blew past any semblance of propriety and pressed a thumb into his metaphorical bruises.

But before she can tell him any of this as part of a much-deserved apology, he’s standing to leave, rubbing absently at the knee joint of his new bionic before he does.

“You really should rest some more after… all of that,” he says softly, casting a quick, inscrutable glance at her as he goes. “Just for a little. I’m here if you need me.”

He says that, but then he’s gone. Down the hall towards his makeshift bunk. She wants badly to follow him, can feel the selfish ache in her fortified bones. But she’s not sure she deserves that kind of validation.

_______________

In another life, another time, Daisy’s sure she would stay behind and wallow in the callous way she’d let her own emotions step her so clearly over the line. In this one, where she’s ever cognizant of just how precious each moment can be, she gives him five, maybe ten minutes.

Thankfully, his door is still open. He’s sat on his bunk, fiddling idly with his wristwatch, and when he looks up he doesn’t seem surprised to see her.

“I shouldn’t have-“

They say it at the same time. It tugs at the corner of her mouth, but there’s no way she’s letting him apologize to her, so she speaks first — telling him another thing that’s true, another thing that’s been weighing on her mind.

“I’m afraid that if I go to sleep, I’m going to wake up in the loop again.”

He doesn’t answer right away, just pats the bunk next to him, and she doesn’t hesitate.

“Was there anything good in any of them?” he asks as she sits down beside him. “Other than the last one where you, you know, saved all of our lives and the entire human race? Anything else worth remembering?”

She turns to watch him as he speaks. She’s closer here than she was in the bay, and she thinks she could lose a few good minutes remembering what the salt and pepper on his temple or the line of his jaw or the unbuttoned collar of his dress shirt look like up close.

“Yeah.” Her voice comes out thick, and she has to clear her throat. “Yeah there were some moments.”

Sousa looks down at her as he waits for her to continue and the softness and trust in his gaze is another thing worth remembering.

“In one of them, I asked you why you care so much,” she tells him, readying herself for more honesty. “Why you’re always willing to help, no questions asked. Why you had my back right from the start.”

“And?”

Part of her had worried he was making some kind of comparison, Daisy realizes, but she knows now that it’s not about who she is to him, or who Peggy Carter was. It’s about the kind of man Daniel Sousa is, and seemingly always has been.

She leans back against the wall behind them and he follows. She tilts her head against his shoulder. Again, he follows, leaning softly against her.

“And you told me,” she answers, sure he already knows somehow.

“Good,” he says. Daisy can feel his mouth curve into a smile, and it feels almost more intimate than kissing him. “I’m glad I did.”

“Yeah?”

Her eyes feel heavy as the adrenaline from earlier finally starts to dissipate, and she wonders if she could actually fall asleep here, upright, but next to him. It’s the safest she’s felt in a long time.

“Yeah,” Daniel answers. “And there’s something else you should know, too.”

“What’s that?” Daisy feels his hand wrap around hers again as she drifts off.

“When all of this is over, the only place I want to be is where you are.”

#first mate fic #dousy #daisysous #daisy johnson #daniel sousa #agents of shield #agents of shield fic #sousy #daisy x sousa #daisy x daniel

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