#// (granted he is probably already well acquainted with his blood but this would be in a sexy way) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rubysunnday · 3 years ago

Text

stupid in love

request by anon: hey congrats for 2.6k followers, that's so cool!!! I don't know if i'm too late but can i request jesper from shadow and bone x reader with prompt 5? would love for it to be romantic :) congrats again and thank you if you decide to write it!! <3

A/N: is this romantic? no idea but I've been writing this for like a month and I'm beyond done with it so have whatever the fuck this is

warnings: six of crows stuff, blood, swearing, alludes to suicide throughout

"I threw myself out a window for you! What more do you want from me?"

Y/N almost punched him. Him throwing himself out the window was the entire reason she was annoyed at him. It had been terrifying and Y/N had thought Jesper was dead. But Jesper had taken it as another fable to tell the punters - hadn't realised how lucky he was. Y/N glowered at Jesper from across the bar as she poured him another shot.

"Maybe for you to actually pay for these shots?" Y/N asked, sliding the shot glass along the bar top to Jesper.

Jesper picked it up and downed it with one smooth movement. "Ah, it's fine, put it on my tab."

Y/N rolled her eyes but obliged, scribbling down the rapidly growing cost of Jesper's evening. He'd actually only had three shots - the rest had been spread around the entire club in celebration of something or other.

Their last job had been chaotic as usual. Jesper had thrown himself out a window, Kaz had almost gotten shot and they'd blown a few things up. But the image of Jesper falling through a window had stuck with Y/N all night.

The entire reason Y/N had ended up in the Dregs was because of her sister. Her sister, who had gone insane, and leapt off a roof, plummeting to her death in front of Y/N. Every time Y/N relived Jesper falling, she saw him in her sister's place. She saw his body instead of hers.

Which was why, Jesper making jokes about his window-smashing exploits wasn't appreciated at that moment.

"'ello, Y/N," Rotty said jogging up to the bar with a beaming smile, breaking her out of her thoughts.

"Evening, Rotty," Y/N called, setting the cleaned glasses on the side. "What can I do for you?"

"Boss wants you," Rotty replied. He gestured over his shoulder at Jesper who was singing a rowdy sea shanty with an arm around a red-haired woman who looked like an actual mermaid. "And him."

"Have you told him?"

"I did."

"And?"

"He said 'in a moment'."

"Oh for -" Y/N bought her fingers to her lips and whistled. Loudly.

The entire bar fell silent and everyone turned to stare at her. She pointed at Jesper and then up at Kaz's office door.

"You, upstairs, now," Y/N demanded.

Jesper sighed, grumbling to himself as he slid off the redhead's lap and practically stomped after Y/N as she walked up the stairs.

She paused at the top and looked down at the still silent bar. "Carry on."

The chatter and sound of money being lost quickly restarted. Y/N shut the office door behind her, the noise from downstairs all but disappearing behind the thick, iron door.

Inej was, unsurprisingly, already there. She stood near to Kaz, her hands clasped behind her back with her hood up. As Y/N approached Kaz, he looked up at her and then at Jesper who'd flopped down in a plush armchair near the window.

"Is he drunk?"

"No," Y/N replied, sitting down in the chair Kaz had in front of his desk and crossing her legs. She fanned out her skirt and clasped her hands together in her lap. "He bought shots for everyone in the club but he's only had three."

"Good, I need him sober," Kaz replied. He gave Jesper a cursory glance over his shoulder. "Jesper, come here."

Jesper stood up and skulked over to the desk, leaning over Y/N's head to see what was on the desk. "Is that -"

"Yes."

"And are we -"

"Yes."

Y/N frowned and sat forward, looking at the plans laid out on Kaz's desk. She raised her eyebrows. "The Geldrenner Hotel? Really? What's there."

"You mean who is there," Kaz corrected. He handed Y/N a newspaper cut out featuring a grainy print of a member of the Merchant Council.

"Is that Van Halla?" Y/N asked, squinting at the print. "Isn't he meant to be in Os Alta?"

"He's on holiday and is staying at the Geldrenner with his wife and entourage or fifty," Kaz replied. "And whilst he is here, he's attending the extravagant birthday of Van Eck."

"Oh, I see where this is going," Y/N said, nodding. "I saw the Van Eck birthday present list - what did Halla get?"

"The Millenium Watch."

Three pairs of eyes looked at Kaz with surprise and shock.

"I'm sorry, you want us to steal the Millenium Watch?" Jesper asked, gaping. "One of the most expensive watches in history?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I need a new pocket watch," Kaz said with a shrug.

"And the real reason?" Inej asked, raising her eyebrows.

"I've made a deal with someone - in exchange for the Millenium Watch we get the plans to the Boeksplein."

"And what's there?"

"Need to know."

The three of them scoffed but weren't entirely surprised.

"Now, are you done interrogating me?" Kaz asked. "Because I would like to get on with the job."

'So, here's the plan.'

The hotel was ridiculous grand for the streets of Ketterdam. Granted, it did sit in the middle of the Financial District and was within view of the Stadwatch barracks to avoid any burglaries, heists or assassinations.

It was strictly reserved for the rich and wealthy and the majority of Ketterdam knew they would never be privileged enough to see inside the marbled walls.

And up until now, Y/N had thought herself one of those people.

'Jesper, Y/N, you two will go in disguised as staff. Inej will be on the roof and sneak in through the skylight.'

'And what about you, Kaz?"

"I, darling, Y/N, will be causing a distraction.'

"What do you mean there's no reservation for me?!"

Y/N looked up from the bin she was emptying. Kaz was standing at the front desk, dressed in a - quite frankly ridiculous - outfit, waving his arms around and swearing. A lot. Y/N glanced over at Jesper, a smile pulling on her lips. "I take it that that's the distraction," she whispered.

As Kaz continued to flap his arms like a bird, Y/N and Jesper headed over to the hand-operated elevator. The two of them nodded at the elevator operator.

"Seventh floor, please," Jesper said, clasping his hands in front of him.

"Oh, oh, wait, please!"

A woman, dressed in the ridiculous fashions of the wealthy, bustled into the elevator, dragging about eight different cases and hat boxes with her.

"You," she said, snapping her fingers at Jesper, "take these up to my room - number 754b." The woman turned to Y/N. "Be a dear and take these."

Before Y/N could protest, a black, leather briefcase was pushed into her arms as Jesper was pushed out the door. The elevator operator sighed and began working the elevator up to floor 7.

"I like your dress, ma'am," Y/N said, attempting to break the awkward elevator music.

"Oh, aren't you a dear!" The women cooed. "My husband - Van Halla - bought it for me."

Y/N almost dropped the briefcase.

'What floor is Van Halla staying on?'

'Seventh floor, room 54b, Inej. It's the penthouse and the only room with a skylight.'

'Which is how Inej is getting in. But how are we getting out?'

'Front door, Y/N. If this goes to plan, we'll walk out that hotel through the front door with the watch.'

'And if something goes wrong?'

'Well, then, Jesper, I guess you'd better get acquainted with Hellgate.'

The elevator trundled up to the seventh floor and Y/N traipsed after the woman - who was, apparently, Van Halla's wife - to the penthouse.

As Y/N stepped into the penthouse, one thing went through her mind.

Money does not buy you taste.

And that was coming from someone who lived in the Slat which was, to be fair, held up by sheer terror at what Kaz may do should it collapse.

"Just leave the bags in the bedroom, darling," the woman called, waving a hand to the right.

Y/N hovered awkwardly for a moment, trying to work out where exactly in the cavernous, garishly white and orange room she was pointing to. Eventually, Y/N spotted a double door - bright orange like the cushions on the sofa - and assumed that was the bedroom.

She opened the doors and almost dropped the bags.

The 'bedroom' was bigger than her room. In fact, it was probably bigger than her room, Jesper's room, Kaz's room and Inej's room combined.

"Damn," Y/N muttered, her eyes wide. "What it is to have money, huh?"

Y/N dumped the bags on the floor near the wardrobe and turned to go when a small, black velvet box sat on a table. She paused.

"Do you want me to unpack the bags, ma'am?" Y/N called, quietly approaching the table, trying to get a closer look at the engraved plaque on the top of the box.

"No, no, you're fine!"

Y/N stood in front of the table, her heart pounding. Happy birthday, Van Eck was engraved on the top of the box. Y/N reached into her pocket and pulled out an identical box.

'So, we switch the boxes?'

'Thanks to Jesper's hidden talent - no need to roll your eyes, Jesper - we have an exact replica of the watch. Minus a few details, obviously, drawings and sketches only give so much detail.'

'And if we get caught with the watch? Because either way, they'll know something's up.'

'Best not to get caught then, Y/N. However, if for whatever someone isn't at the rendevous, we'll plan something.'

'So reassuring, Kaz.'

'Oh, good, I'm glad, I was concerned I my tone wasn't coming across.'

Y/N glanced out into the main room of the penthouse and quickly switched the boxes, making sure the fake was in the exact same position as the original. She slipped the original into her pocket and stepped out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

"If that's all then, ma'am," Y/N said, bowing to the woman.

"Yes, yes, thank you," she said, nodding.

Y/N headed towards the front door when it swung open and a large man, with a red face and a huge moustache, stormed in.

"Excuse me, sir," Y/N said, pressing herself to the wall as he marched past.

The man barely looked at her - he just sniffed.

"Victoria! Why did you not wait for me?" He called.

"You were busy having a go at some man, darling," the woman - Victoria - replied. "Feel better for yelling?"

"Oh, wife, you know me too well."

Y/N quickly left the room before Van Halla started kissing his wife. They were only some things she could cope with.

With the watch secure in her pocket, Y/N made her way back down to the elevator. She spotted Jesper on her way - struggling with the numerous bags Van Halla had apparently abandoned.

Y/N whistled at him and gestured her head, tapping her wrist. Jesper dropped the bags - Y/N was certain she heard something smash - and jogged up to her side.

"You got it?"

"It was surprisingly easy," Y/N whispered as they headed to the elevator. "It was lying there."

The music in the elevator played joyfully as they rode down - Y/N was trying not to bop to the light plinking piano music.

'So, once we've got the watch. How do we get out?'

'No need to point between you and Jesper, Y/N, I knew who you meant. You two will go out the servant's entrance here and meet Inej and I where the carriages are stored.'

'And if things go to shit?'

'Luckily for you, Jesper, I have plans ranging from A all the way to T.'

'What happens if we get to S? Damn, Kaz, no need to glare at me like that, Saints. You could set me on fire!'

'Shut up, Y/N.'

"Never, boss.'

The servant's entrance was quiet and empty which was a blessing for Jesper and Y/N - especially since Y/N could feel the watch box beginning to metaphorically burn a hole in her coat.

A guard was sat in the chair by the door, intently reading a book. He looked up as they approached and smiled.

"Ah, hello!" He said, standing up. "Right, let's do this quickly, shall we? I'm at a good point in my book. So, you know and I know this but I have to state it again for rules - I have to search you as you come in and out the building since we have numerous Merchants staying here. We don't want anything expensive to get stolen since we can't afford a lawsuit!" He clapped his hands. "So, which one of you wants to get searched first?"

Y/N and Jesper shared a look.

"I'll go first," Y/N volunteered, stepping forward and holding her arms out.

The guard patted her down, humming joyfully as he did so. "Perfect! And you, sir?"

Jesper stepped forward but tripped over the leg of the chair, knocking the chair over and jogging the table and knocking a vase over.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Jesper exclaimed, kneeling down to pick up the vase.

"Oh, it's fine, I do it all the time," the guard said, smiling. "Anyhoo."

Jesper set the vase on the table and lifted his arms. "You know, this isn't usually how I like to begin."

The guard looked up at him and raised his eyebrows, smiling. "No?"

"No. I prefer a more intimate setting."

Y/N rolled her eyes and sighed. She cleared her throat pointedly and Jesper winked at the guard, stepping aside.

"Seriously?" Y/N hissed as they walked down the side street to the garage at the back.

"It worked, didn't it?" Jesper replied.

"Oi!"

Jesper turned with a smile on his face, fully expecting it to be the previous guard. Except it wasn't. A sterner looking guard was marching towards them both with a glare in his eyes.

"The idiot back there forgot to ask for your papers," he snapped. "Papers. Now."

'What happens if we need papers to get in and out?'

'I've thought about that.'

'And?'

'Well, best get running. And try to avoid bullets.'

'Why did I expect anything else from you, Kaz?'

Jesper's hand brushed against Y/N's as he stepped forward, communicating silently the plan.

Which consisted of nothing more than run.

"We forgot our papers," YN said smoothly.

The guard raised his eyebrows. "Well, then I can't let you leave until I've contacted your supervisor. You'll have to come with me."

As the man reached out to grab Y/N's wrist, she grabbed his arm, and using all her strength, flipped him over her back and into the floor.

"Go!" Y/N yelled, shoving Jesper up the hill as she ran down it.

Y/N leapt over the guard and ran down the street, the steep gradient speeding her up. The garage was at the other end of the street - up the hill where Jesper had gone - but Y/N knew the guard would be chasing after her.

For a moment, all Y/N could hear was her pounding heartbeat, her vision bouncing up and down as she ran. And then a gunshot cracked out.

Y/N stumbled forward and then darted to the right, hiding in a bush in someone's garden as she panted. She kept quiet as she heard the guard stop right in front of her bush. Y/N didn't allow herself to relax until the guard swore loudly and jogged back up the hill.

Y/N leant her head back against the wall behind her and felt tears well in her eyes as she pressed a hand to her stomach. The bullet had gone through her back and out through her stomach. There was so much blood and the pain was overwhelming - almost blinding.

But, Y/N forced herself out of the bush and to her feet. There was a back alley with a set of stairs leading up to the garage - a very steep set of stairs, mind.

Step by step, Y/N climbed up the stairs, tightly holding onto the handrail as she climbed. Thankfully, the row of expensive-looking carriages was at the top of the stairs and Y/N's knees nearly buckled with relief when she saw the familiar slim shape of Inej.

"Inej," Y/N gasped, falling forwards onto her knees.

Inej ran over to Y/N, her feet silent on the cobbles. She knelt down next to her and held Y/N up with a hand on her uninjured side. "What happened?"

"Oh, turns out we need papers to get out," Y/N grunted, hissing with pain as Inej pressed a black handkerchief - that looked suspiciously like the one Kaz carried - against her front wound.

"Where's Jesper?"

"No idea. Where's Kaz?"

"No idea."

"Excellent, at least we're on the same - ow - page," Y/N inhaled sharply, her hand flying to grab Inej's arm as a wave of pain tossed her into a rock. "Saints."

"It went straight through, thankfully, so I think if we stitch it when we get back and keep it clean -"

"I'll live to get shot another day?" Y/N quipped, smiling despite the sheer amount of pain she was in. "I hope one of them appears with a carriage soon."

Inej kept a steady hand on Y/N's side, keeping her propped up on her knees as she tied a scarf around her waist, covering both wounds.

"Thank you," Y/N said softly, her head resting against Inej's shoulder.

"For what?" Inej asked, frowning. "For saving your life? Again? Because I'd do that even if you'd pissed me off."

A breath of laughter escaped Y/N's lips as she lifted her head. "No. Just for being here. Jesper and I..."

"I know," Inej said quietly. "Does he know?"

"About what? About how I had to watch him fall out a third storey window, not knowing if he was alive or dead? To have to cope with the mental images I have of his broken, bleeding body lying in the streets only to be thrown onto the Reaper's Barge? To know that every time I close my eyes I see Jesper where my sister was? I see Jesper jumping off the roof and plummeting instead of her? I see him staring back at me with glassy eyes and a broken neck and bleeding and -"

"Ok, ok, calm down," Inej shushed, putting a hand on the back of Y/N's head. Y/N sobbed, burying her face into the crook of Inej's neck. She cried for her dead sister, for the fact Jesper was at times an oblivious idiot and for the fact her side really fucking hurt.

"Inej I just keep seeing him lying there," Y/N sobbed. "I know he's fine but I -"

"I know, Y/N, I know," Inej said softly, stroking her hair back. She gently took her face between her hands. "But he is not your sister. Ok? Now, come on we need to get you standing."

Y/N managed to get her feet underneath her and with help from Inej, she was soon standing up - albeit a bit wobbly. Inej kept a hand on Y/N's arm, the physical contact keeping them both going as they waited for Kaz and Jesper.

Not even a minute later, a carriage rolled down the street with Kaz and Jesper in the driver's seat.

"Don't tell Jesper," Y/N said suddenly, panic in her voice.

Inej nodded. "I won't."

Kaz's dark eyes looked Y/N up and down as Jespe halted the horses to a stop. "Trouble?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle," Y/N replied, trying to hide her wince of pain as she tried to stand straighter.

"Inej?"

Y/N rolled her eyes. Kaz had quickly caught on to the fact she often downplayed her pain when injured, so he often asked literally anyone else.

"Through and through - she'll be fine if get back soon," Inej replied.

"Good, on you get."

Y/N climbed inside the carriage, sinking into the velvet green seat with a sigh of relief. Inej hovered by the open door before eventually coming to a decision.

"I'll be up front if you need me," she said softly, knowing that Y/N needed a moment alone.

Y/N had never been so grateful that Inej was her best friend. The carriage doors shut, and with the curtains pulled over the windows, it was blissfully dark. Y/N closed her eyes and relaxed as best she could - she kept a hand tightly pressed over Inej's scarf and her wound.

She didn't realise she'd fallen asleep until someone tapped her knee. Y/N jumped and opened her eyes to Jesper staring at her with eyes full of concern.

"You alright?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Y/N... why are you acting strange?"

"I'm not."

Jesper sat down opposite her as the carriage resumed moving. "You are. Ever since the last job you've been acting weird."

Y/N shrugged. "Sorry."

Jesper frowned. "Is this about the last job? Look, I didn't actually fall out a window for you..."

Jesper's words faded away as Y/N's mind was filled with the memory of Jesper falling. And then it wasn't Jesper it was her sister again. And then it was Inej. And even Kaz. Over and over again they were falling and falling and falling.

"Stop the carriage!"

The carriage had barely stopped before Y/N practically threw herself outside, her side screaming in protest at the sudden movement. She didn't give anyone a second glance as she moved off the open road and down into the hedgerow. There was a small river running through the field near them - one that leads into the Ketterdam canals - and Y/N fell to her knees on the banks of it, plunging her hands into the water.

Stupid, so, so stupid. It had been years since her sister had died and just when Y/N thought she'd moved on, Jesper pushed her back miles and miles.

Y/N leant forward, leaning on her hands as she stared down at the water, her knees getting wet as she knelt in the wet grass. She heard a twig snap and sighed. "I'm fine, Jesper, just leave me alone."

"Flattered that you thought I was Jesper, but alas," Kaz said, standing behind her.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder at Kaz. "Sorry, I'll be back in a minute."

Kaz was silent for a minute. "When the memory overwhelms you, find something to ground you. The feeling of something, the sound of something, even. It helps drown it out."

Y/N nodded, sniffing softly. She grunted as she got to her feet, her hand pressed to her side. A quick glance down and she saw red but not too much. "Sorry."

"Trauma doesn't apologise," Kaz said roughly, turning around and heading back up the hill. "So why should you?"

Y/N chuckled to herself. She spotted Jesper at the top of the hill, pacing nervously as Inej tried to calm him down. It took Y/N only a few seconds to decided what to do.

"Jesper, come here," Y/N called, waving him over.

He jogged over to her and his hands were instantly on her shoulders - almost as if he was holding her together. "I'm sorry -"

"Don't be, Jesper," Y/N said softly. She placed her hand over his and rubbed a circle on the back of his hand. "My sister went insane and jumped off a roof when I was fourteen. When I saw you fall out the window... I saw her. She landed in front of me and I stared at her dead, broken body, unable to comprehend what had happened. So, when you fell... I felt like I was fourteen again. And the fact you kept joking about it didn't help. It was nothing you did, Jesper. It's my own trauma rearing its head and wanting to take me down again. I just..."

"I understand," Jesper said softly, his eyes gentle and caring as he looked at her. "And I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. Trauma doesn't apologise so why should we?"

Kaz, who was trying not to listen, smirked to himself. He tapped the side of the carriage with the head of his cane. "Come on, lovebirds, we need to move."

Y/N turned back to Jesper and smile, despite her heart aching. "All I ask, Jesper, is if you could maybe carry me back to the carriage because I really hurt right now."

Jesper laughed. "Of course I can, love."

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone imagines #shadow and bone x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagines #jesper fahey #jesper fahey x reader #jesper fahey imagine #jesper fahey imagines #jesper fahey x fem!reader

373 notes · View notes

ramshacklestar · 5 months ago

Text

As to what the game actually was Yuu had no real response her vision not granting her the distance of seeing what was going on from the door way to the table in which Idia and Azul were playing. In fact all she really could see of what was going on was how Azul seemed to be getting irritated about something to do with the game twisting his wrist this way and that in effort to get a better dice roll; it was only because another member of the club had spotted her an looked at her with a questioning gaze that Yuu hadn’t further pursued learning of what could frustrate the other housewarden in such a way. Well, that and the fact that she hadn’t exactly been acquainted with Idia at that time and considering how her first encounter with the other housewardens had gone she wasn’t particularly in the mood to be a part of any sort of drama that day. But had she known that the man seemed almost terrified of other interactions back then; then she was certain she might’ve reached out sooner.

“Magical life?” Yuu repeated, a similar game of Life from her own world coming to mind as she spoke it aloud, a game she’d also never really had the pleasure of playing mostly on account of the fact that the orphanage had a fairly limited supply to choose from. But to his hyping up about cat themed games Yuu found herself needing to remind herself that laughing at him could potentially ruin what she’d currently been working for. By the way he reacted to Grim though, she really shouldn’t have been surprised, her feline companion running up to her on multiple occasions speaking of how another student called him kitty-cat and tried petting him. To be fair though Grim did have a sort of adorable feline charm to him; even if he insisted he was a powerful direbeast that should be respected as much as a mage.

“Some are very complicated, like we have this game called mahjong it can be really complicated but I’m really good at it. Someone important in my life taught me how to play it a long time ago and no one from back home has ever managed to beat me at it.” Mostly because they were confused on the gameplay itself, but Yuu would still count that as a win. “That one’s only really a two person game, but we also have a game called Solitaire, Sorry, Chess and Checkers there was another game the kids liked to play with the regular cards too called old geezer and we could make the jack in the cards that geezer. At least those are the games we had around the…” There’s a pause, she’d almost slipped. “…the uh, house.” Not entirely incorrect she supposed but likely not what a person would normally think when they heard the word house and if anything she’d just hope he wouldn’t cling to why Yuu didn’t outright call the other kids her siblings. Maybe, they had a bond like siblings but by blood Yuu didn’t actually know if she had any.

“But anyway! A lot of those can be played with multiple people and some are even strategy based so you could totally wipe the floor with Azul and turn him into a huff-topus.” Mean? Probably, but the idea of him getting beat in a simple game already had Yuu feeling a fit of incoming giggles. Sure she liked the merman well enough but he did still have a knack for getting under her skin every now and then as well. “Who know I might even be able to beat you the gaming god of NRC!”

Idia undeniably perks up at the mention of playing games together. She's actually initiating the idea of hanging out with him? Idia would have laughed at the idea because it seemed so impossible to him before. It would be nice to play with someone other than Azul from time to time, and it might be nice to play with someone who maybe isn't so averse to games of chance. Perhaps Idia might even be willing to teach her some of the newer games he had been itching to try.

"Ah, you mean Magical Life? It's really fun. You've never played a game like that before, I bet. There's tons of other types too. I've even seen cat-themed ones." Never mind that she apparently watches while they play or something... It's still the least weirdest thing to happen in this entire interaction. The fact that she was actually trying to show an interest in his hobbies in order to get to know him better... Wow, this is what it feels like, huh?

For all intents and purposes, Idia comes to the conclusion that Yuu is, more or less, being quite genuine. If he doubted otherwise, he wouldn't be nearly as open to her request as he is right now. From what he's seen, it doesn't seem like she has a single manipulative bone in her body (unlike some other people in this school). "And you can show me how to play board games from your world too. I wonder what they're like... Heh heh..." It's all starting to come together.

Step one, get her hooked onto board games.

Step two, introduce her to all his favourite video games.

Step three, ???

Step four, profit!

Idia isn't the kind of person who really wants or needs "gaming buddies", so he's not expecting much, but if he can open her eyes to the world of gaming, he thinks he's actually doing her a service anyway.

#//Mini spy. That is easily caught xD #//So not a spy at all #i'm just me || ic.#stygia n #off doing chores || queue

6 notes · View notes

babyybitchhhwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Hisoka x Reader 18+

Title: An Unexpected Surprise

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Words: 4445

Warnings: barebacking, cowgirl position, hot tub sex

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24581845

♥♥♥♥

Finding Hisoka waiting for you in your room was not a particularly surprising turn of events. The man had a history of simply letting himself in whenever the mood to do so struck his fancy and, despite not having a keycard to grant him access, you’d never been able to find any evidence to suggest forced entry. His enigmatic response every time you’d asked how he did it had been “It’s magic”. Nothing more. Nothing less. It was infuriating and unnerving in equal measure but you’d since become grudgingly accustomed to these impromptu visits. It seemed to be part and parcel where any acquaintance with him was concerned.

Finding Hisoka naked and waiting for you in the hot tub your room was outfitted with, however, was unexpected. The candles and the scattered rose petals floating in the water with him were especially concerning and you froze in the doorway, trying to process what you were seeing. Nude man. Cheesy romantic setting. The smell of wisteria and jasmine wafting from the burning wicks that were strategically placed on every available surface. If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he was looking to genuinely woo you this evening but you were much too familiar with his twisted inclinations to fall for that trick.

“What are you doing?” You asked suspiciously.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He simpered and submerged one sharp nailed hand under the water before lifting it back up so that the resulting splash echoed off the walls. An errant petal cascaded down into the water again and another plastered itself to the elegant curve of his wrist, looking for all the world like a splotch of blood against pale white skin. The handful of candles floating in the tub shifted against the ripples and slowly drifted in opposite directions as he brought his gaze up to pin you with a pointed leer. “I’ve been waiting for you, love. For some time now, actually. I think I might be starting to prune.”

“Pity.” You murmured, thoroughly distracted. “That doesn’t answer my question though. What’s with all of … this?”

Cocking his head to one side when you gestured vaguely at the bathroom, Hisoka allowed his smile to widen. “Don’t you like it? I was under the impression that most women enjoyed this sort of thing.”

“I don’t.” You shot back, sounding unnecessarily petulant to your own ears.

“Well, I do. Now get in.”

Lifting a brow at the command in his tone, you stood your ground. Hisoka didn’t seem daunted by the look of challenge you were pinning him with though and he merely continued to stare you down with a level of patience that spoke volumes. He was willing to wait as long as it took and he would not be leaving until he got what he wanted. Typical.

You finally gave in with a deeply bothered sigh and reached for the hem of your shirt. “Fine. But I expect an explanation once I’m in there.”

“You know I’m not in the habit of leaving you disappointed.” Hisoka purred as he watched you jerkily disrobe, annoyance with his antics evident in every quick motion.

Saying he was unperturbed by the prickly display would have been an understatement and, realizing that you weren’t going to get anywhere by acting like this, you dropped the pretense altogether. Your shoulders relaxed and you reached back to unclasp your bra, shrugging the straps down the length of your arms. Hisoka’s pointedly dangerous attention zeroing in on your exposed chest made your skin crawl in a way that was as exciting as it was disconcerting. You tried not to pay him any mind though, ignoring the goosebumps that erupted across your body when you slipped your fingers into the waistband of your panties so you could slide them off.

Your nipples tightened and peaked for your audience of one as you straightened back up upon stepping out of them. Being naked in front of this particular man was always an experience, if not because he was quite possibly the most deadly individual taking up residence in Heaven’s Arena then because you never knew what to expect from him. He was capable of any number of atrocities, as violent as he was unpredictable, and here you were, nude as the day you were born. It always left you feeling indescribably vulnerable and defenseless but, in this case at least, he was just as naked as you were.

Somehow, you found that marginally comforting and you stepped over to the hot tub without bothering to try and cover yourself. Such bashful behavior would only serve to amuse Hisoka and give him a reason to tease and bully you, which wasn’t something you usually invited. He’d have his fun with you either way before this night was through so there really wasn’t any reason to give him more ammunition to work with.

“I’m starting to think I should talk to the staff about upping security on my room.” You said, casually offhand as you climbed over the ledge of the tub.

“That won’t stop me, I’m afraid. You’re welcome to give it a try though.”

Shooting him a quick look, you stepped down into the water and couldn’t seem to resist issuing a quiet sound of pleasure when the warmth immediately started seeping into your muscles. It felt much too good for you to cling to your displeasure with his invasive escapades and total lack of respect for personal boundaries. The tantalizingly sweet, relaxing aroma drifting throughout the steamy room also helped and your last remaining reservations were gone before you even realized it.

Humming contentedly when you lowered yourself down to sit, you watched the candles rock around you from the resulting slosh of your added mass to the water. You probably should’ve known better than to trust Hisoka with so many fire hazards in a single space but, so far at least, he hadn’t done anything outwardly distressing enough to warrant panic on your part. Besides breaking and entering his way into your room, that is.

You glanced across the expanse of the tub to find him watching you, a knowing smirk curling his damnably kissable mouth, and you huffed. “Spill it.”

“Whatever could you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean. What’s with this lovey dovey atmosphere? It doesn’t suit you.”

He had the nerve to look shocked by that assertion. “How rude! And here I am trying to do something thoughtful for you.”

You pinned him with a wry smile. “I don’t buy that, Hisoka.”

“Good. Because it was bullshit.”

You laughed before you could catch it. That seemed to please him and, drawing a slow breath that made his broad chest puff out, Hisoka gradually leaned forward so that the candles scattered again with the redistribution of his weight in the tub. He was lythe and sleek in the flickering light, all sinewy muscle and unfairly attractive. An entirely different animal with his vibrant red hair down, the signature star and teardrop you were accustomed to seeing absent for once. Your throat cinched as you watched him close the distance between you two but didn’t try to escape; allowing him to brace his hands against the ledge so that your head was bracketed between his arms and you were effectively caged in. Trapped.

“This,” He intoned in a sly, lilting voice. “Is all for me, love. You’re just the lucky girl I’ve decided to share this special night with, that’s all. Don’t you feel honored?”

“What’s the occasion?” You asked thinly, idly wondering if now was a good time to start panicking.

Supple lips parting on a breathy chuckle, Hisoka dipped his face down to brush a fleeting kiss across your mouth. You didn’t make a move to return the gesture, letting him deliver increasingly more demanding pecks to your face before eventually pulling back with a soft, reverberating groan.

“It’s my birthday.”

Your brows shot up in stark surprise, jerking your attention around to look into his face. “Your birthday?” He nodded, once, and you valiantly tried to wrap your head around that information. “You mean to tell me someone actually gave birth to you and you didn’t just … appear one day?”

“What a mean thing to say.” He admonishingly chided, but the glint of amusement reflecting in those ocher eyes suggested that he found such an accusation funny rather than offensive. Rolling his shoulders back in an enticingly slow shrug that made the muscles in his chest flex, Hisoka nudged even closer and you tensed when you found yourself pinned against the side of the tub. “Isn’t there anything else you can think of that might be more appropriate for this situation?”

You thought about that for a moment, trying to pretend like you didn’t notice the spark of pooling heat in your gut. “You’re a Gemini …” You said at last. “I’m not surprised. Actually, that explains a lot.”

Hisoka promptly threw his head back and laughed up at the ceiling. You chanced a tentative smile, finding his good humor tonight a bit suspicious, but then he abruptly shoved himself up against you so hard that water splashed out over the side of the tub and slapped against the tile floor. Mouth opening in shock, you shuddered as he forced his way between your legs until his pelvis was slotted tightly against yours. The unmistakable weight of his cock, already straining hard, settled on your stomach and your hands flew up to blindly sink nails into his biceps.

“Hisoka - !”

“I was expecting to hear ‘happy birthday’, at the very least.” He cooed, peering down at you from just a scant few inches away. “Where are your manners, darling? Hmm?”

Leaning close, he teasingly brushed the tip of his nose along your cheek in a blithe imitation of affectionate nuzzling. You tipped your face up at him and brought your legs around his narrow waist in silent encouragement. It was impossible to deny the dizzying heights of arousal this incredibly dangerous man inspired within you but all he did was laugh, the puff of hot air on your skin making you tremble.

“What a curious little thing you are. One moment you’re acting like you could care less and the next you’re so eager for me to have my way with you.” He paused to nip at your earlobe and the sharp sensation of teeth sinking into delicate flesh caused you to gasp. Mouth curling in a devious smirk, Hisoka pressed his lips against the outer shell of your ear so that his voice was the only thing you could make out over the sound of your own pounding heartbeat. “Do you really expect things to go your way just because you’re willing to submit to me? Is that it?”

You tried to speak but nothing came out. All you could focus on was the hard length resting threateningly against your lower belly, the palpable memories of his cock carving out a space within you inspiring white hot pangs of desire throughout your core. There was a veritable laundry list detailing exactly why engaging with him like this wasn’t a good idea but you still found yourself arching into his touch when Hisoka brushed the rough pad of his thumb over your puckered nipple. You couldn’t escape his gravitational pull even if you’d tried.

“Well?” He prodded, letting the sharp point of a single nail just barely scrape the peak of your breast.

Sucking in a haggard gulp of air, you clung to him even more fervently. “If you want to hear it so bad, I’ll say it.” You managed to croak out.

Hisoka noised a thoughtful hum and drew back, surprising you yet again when he slipped out of your hold in favor of retreating back to his end of the hot tub. “I think I’d rather have you show me.”

You stared in rapt disbelief as he reclined against the side, bracing his elbows along the ledge so that just the tips of those sinfully long fingers dipped into the water. It took a prolonged moment for your cloudy mind to catch up with what was happening but, at last, you grumbled something unkind under your breath before moving after him, much more mindful of the bobbing candles than he’d been.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

“I’ve may have heard that once or twice before.” He said with a flippant shrug.

Pursing your lips, you climbed up to straddle his lap. Hisoka offered you a smile that could only be described as condescending, making you scowl even as you reached under the softly rolling surface of the water to find his cock. You gave it a tight squeeze, reveling in the silky skin under your fingers, and his chest hitched at the sensation.

You let out a slow breath through your nose while you pumped him, resigned to your fate. He probably would’ve been content to take the lead as he always did if you’d just told him what he wanted to hear, but it was clear now that he wouldn’t lift a finger to assist until he’d deemed your transgression paid in full. Such bratty behavior was par the course for him though, so not at all surprising, and you angled his cock so you could rub the glans against your clit in tauntingly slow passes.

“Did you want anything else for your birthday?” You ventured quietly.

“No. Just you.”

You cocked a brow at that but the cryptic grin Hisoka fixed you with seemed to imply that was all the explanation you were going to get. As much as you knew better than to unquestioningly trust the things that came out of his mouth, there really wasn’t much you could do to argue the point and you grudgingly left it at that.

Using your fingertips to guide the hard length of him to your entrance, you started to sink down. The bulbous head dipped into the flesh of your labia, forcing the meaty lips to spread for him, and you sucked in a faltering breath to steady yourself. The lack of meaningful prep added onto the resistance of the water made penetration a slow going process but you basked in the searing burn. He breached your body one torturous fraction at a time, the pressure just this side of painful, until the glans finally popped through the first barrier. You stilled above him, giving your body a chance to adjust before bearing down on him again with an unbidden moan that seemed to claw its way up your throat.

Hisoka responded with his own rumbling noise of pleasure and you choked on a disgruntled squawk when he lifted his hips to force himself another inch or so inside. You swayed above him, reaching out with both hands to grab onto his shoulders when the tension in your loins doubled and threatened to bowl you over. The stretch was exquisite, blurring the line of pleasure and discomfort so thoroughly that you weren’t sure which side you were on anymore. It hardly seemed to matter though and, biting your lip in concentration, you pushed down until he was sheathed within you halfway to the base.

You had to stop and regroup then, taking several long blinks to clear the starbursts from your eyes. Hisoka shifted underneath you, making your pussy ache and flutter around him, but he didn’t try to force you to take the rest of his cock just yet. Instead, he nonchalantly brought one of his hands around to idly tweak your nipple and you gasped. Brows furrowing, you tucked your chin down to watch him pinch the sensitive nub between thumb and forefinger before giving it a playful tug. White hot static raced down your spine, making your cunt ooze more sticky slick, and you eagerly arched against him with a low sound of wanting.

“Are you making those pretty noises just for me, love?”

Groaning deep in the back of your throat, you haltingly pivoted your hips - up, down, up and down - to loosen your passage and coat him in more arousal. When you started to lower yourself again just a brief moment later, the penetration came easier and Hisoka’s cock slipped against your inner walls until you were fully seated on his lap. You tossed your head back, sighing in pleasure, and he took that opportunity to approvingly squeeze your breast in a tight grip.

“Look at you.” He breathed. “So lovely when you’re enjoying yourself on my cock like this.”

“Hisoka …” You whimpered and rocked against him, the gentle slosh of the water echoing in your ears.

“Tell me how it feels. Tell me just how much you love being stretched and filled up.”

Screwing your eyes shut, you leaned into the sturdy muscle mass underneath you and linked your arms around his neck. “I love it … you always feel so good when you’re inside me. I can feel every bump and vein. Every time you even twitch it drives me wild. It’s like your cock was made specifically to fit me.”

Hisoka chuckled and nuzzled into your hair. “Maybe it was.”

You rolled your eyes at that, safely out of his line of sight with your chin docked over his shoulder. He didn’t seem to mind your lack of response though and when you pushed up so that he drug against your clinging cunt until just the head remained wedged inside your body, he issued a pleased groan. You sunk down again in shuddering slow motion, acutely aware of every inch of him that entered you. It was thick and heavy, pushing up on that dense cluster of nerves just right to make your breath come a little harder. A little faster. Nails sinking into his skin, you started bouncing on his cock at a subdued pace while trying to be mindful of the water level but it quickly became apparent that this wasn’t going to be enough to satisfy you.

It was hard and fast that you needed to get off and you knew the same applied to him. The two of you had gone through the motions with each other enough times in the past to recognize what would make the cut and what wouldn’t. This slow, gentle tempo was decidedly not it and you hissed in frustration as you started bouncing with more enthusiasm. Just as you’d expected, the water churned around your heaving body and it didn’t take long at all for you to catch the sound of it splashing over the edge to hit the floor below. The thought of getting billed for any incurring cleanup costs flitted through your mind, and you were sure it wouldn’t be cheap in a place like Heaven’s Arena, but then Hisoka was working a hickey into the side of your neck and you promptly forgot all about it.

“Oooh … shit …!”

Slyly humming his agreement, he threaded fingers through your hair and pulled it aside, nails catching your scalp in the process. You hissed at the lingering pain and obediently tilted your head, exposing the vulnerable line of your throat to him. Hisoka’s mouth immediately descended upon the pounding pulse point laid bare to him, sucking and nipping at the spot until it was minutely throbbing in time with your heartbeat. Another juvenile hickey for you to hide in the coming days, you were sure, but it was hard to be annoyed with him for that when his cock felt like it was tickling your cervix on every downward thrust. The sheer force at which you were driving down onto him seemed to punch the oxygen right out of your lungs, making you suck in one ragged gulp of air after another. You tried to pace yourself over the next few minutes but it quickly became too much and you finally had no choice but to slow to a stop and try to find your bearings again.

Having him sitting hot and heavy inside you was too much to ignore though and you weakly ground down on him with twitching hips. Hisoka’s response was to moan right into your ear in an undulating, rising pitch that went straight to your cunt. It fluttered and clamped down around him, a warning tremor rippling through your body, and you wheezed.

It still wasn’t enough.

“Hisoka …” You mewled, pressing your face into his shoulder. “I don’t think this is going to work.”

He issued a thoughtful sound and pressed a deceptively chaste kiss to the mark he’d worked into your neck. “How unfortunate. Though I might be persuaded to help if you say the magic words ...”

Knowing it wasn’t ‘please’ he wanted to hear, you scoffed. He could be such a spoiled brat sometimes. “Fine. Happy birthday. I hope you enjoy many more.”

The way he laughed made his cock twitch inside your pussy and you jerked, starting to pant more vigorously. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it? Although it didn’t exactly sound convincing coming out of your mouth, I suppose I’m willing to accept it.”

You were about to tell him to shove it when Hisoka abruptly brought both arms around your back and pinned you flush to the front of him. It made your breasts squish against the firm expanse of his chest, the electrifying jolt of friction to your nipples sending fresh waves of pleasure shooting down your back. Sucking in a faltering inhale, you allowed your head to loll to the side where it was pressed up on his shoulder and you clutched at him all the more fervently, bracing for what would come next.

Even when you were expecting it, Hisoka managed to catch you off guard when he flexed up off the bottom of the tub and drove into you with enough force to have you shrieking in delight. Your whole body shook against his and you instinctively tried to push away with your knees, attempting to escape the blinding pressure he was exerting on your pulsing cunt. His hold on you was as good as iron though and you couldn’t find a reprieve, helplessly ragdolling in his arms as he started up a brutal pace that had water violently sloshing out over the sides of the tub. You probably would have been horrified by how much of the floor was soaked if you’d had the wherewithal to care about that sort of thing while you were getting your brains mercilessly fucked out but you were too far gone to give it more than a passing thought.

“Hii - Hiso - ka!”

The thin chuckle that filtered over you was enough to make you claw at his shoulders, his back. Any part of him you could reach. You barely had enough time to draw a single, ragged breath before he was slamming back home and knocking you senseless again, your guts quaking under the intensity of his thrusts. The pressure inside you swelled almost nauseatingly fast, indescribably better than your own attempt at getting off which seemed pitiful in comparison to this. Hisoka was a force to be reckoned with in and out of the ring, and the strength in his slim build was never more apparent than when he was pounding into your cunt hard enough to make it throb.

Uncontrollably shaking, you blindly dropped your hands from his scratched up back in favor of holding on to the edge of the tub in a white knuckled grip. You tried to use it as leverage to push your body upward and lessen the intensity of his hips driving into you, but it was useless. Hisoka merely tightened his arms around your back and forcibly yanked you down to meet the punishing thrusts tit for tat. You wailed, unable to do anything except sit there and take it while the rapidly mounting tension in your loins continued to build higher and higher, leaving you swaying dazedly in his grasp.

“Ooh! God!”

“Is this what you needed, darling? A nice hard fuck to get you off? Hm?”

Hisoka, unsurprisingly, didn’t have the grace to sound so much as a little out of breath and you wanted to hate him for that even as you threw your head back, eyes rolling in your skull. The reverberating clap of skin on skin was practically deafening and the sticky wet squelch of your pussy sloppily sucking him in deep on every jolting thrust only added to the lewd cacophony filling the space of the bathroom. It was overwhelming in the best possible way, indescribably more satisfying than anything else you’d experienced before, and you twisted in his arms like something wild. Something possessed.

“I can feel that pretty little pussy of yours squeezing me like a vice grip.” Hisoka groaned, sultry and unbearably heavy. “Are you about to cum for me?”

You sucked in a sharp breath, held it, and the coil snapped. Every inch of your body rattled as if you’d been electrocuted, the full brunt of orgasm slamming into you like a sack of bricks. You went ramrod stiff against him and screamed out your pleasure as he fucked you right through it, the pace of his thrusts not faltering for so much as a second. Hisoka enthusiastically moaned underneath you each time your palpitating cunt squeezed down around him, sounding like some wanton whore, but you were no better yourself. The two of you made quite the pair.

Your throat was raw and scratchy by the time you finally started to come down some moments later one convulsing tremor at a time. It was only when you began whimpering in high strung, oversensitized distress that he slowed down, though he didn’t stop altogether. Hisoka’s cock was sliding easily in and out of your thrumming cunt now and you could feel what a churning mess he’d made of you with every taunting push of his hips, the goopy consistency making embarrassingly loud sucking noises. Seething, you put shaking hands on his chest and pushed back to look at him imploringly.

“Hisokaaa …” You mewled, breath hitching when he brushed against the dense cluster of pulsating nerves from a different angle in this position.

“Don’t tell me you’re ready to tap out already.” He purred and hungrily licked his lips. “That was only round one and it is my birthday, you know. That means you have to keep going until I’m satisfied.”

You issued a frazzled groan into the statically charged air, deciding once and for all that this man was going to be the death of you. The fleeting thought that you’d die happy, at least, didn’t serve as much of a comfort.

#hisoka morow #hisoka x reader #hunter x hunter #self insert bullshit #my wriitng #hisoka

2K notes · View notes

josefavomjaaga · 3 years ago

Photo

Eugène de Beauharnais proudly showing the first signs of what might eventually become a moustache to the artist.

***

Antoine Darnay, an acquaintance of the Beauharnais family since before Josephine married Napoleon Bonaparte, had accompanied Eugène to Italy as his confidential secretary, the only person in his entourage Eugène had chosen himself (everybody else had been handpicked by Napoleon). After Eugène's death, he wrote a small booklet about the former viceroy's life, entitled "Notices historiques sur S.A.R. le Prince Eugène" and dedicated to his widow and children, because Auguste wanted to keep their father's memory alive in his children. This is how he tells the story of how Eugène got summoned to Munich:

The dispatch of Emperor Napoleon threw the Viceroy into an emotional turmoil he could not conceal. The brilliant destiny prepared for him, the fear that he might not please a princess whose graces and beauty were justly praised, and who was then sought after by several sovereigns; the unexpected happiness of soon seeing the Emperor again, of embracing his beloved mother, of being reunited with his friends from war, Generals Bessières, Duroc, etc.; this combination of various, though flattering, sentiments agitated his spirits and alarmed his modesty, which did not dare to imagine so much happiness at once. After a few arrangements necessitated by his absence, the viceroy set out with his first aide-de-camp (General d'Anthouard), crossed the mountains of the Tyrol on the 8th of January, cluttered with ice and snow, and arrived at Munich with the rapidity of lightning... Amor dat alas. [lat.: Love gives wings.]

I had the honour of following immediately, with a chamberlain and an equerry (the counts Bentivoglio and Mereniagno). We arrived in Munich twelve hours after His Royal Highness.

So, apparently those wings love had given had sped up the journey by 12 hours on a three-days-trip. Of course it's not quite clear if it was the love to a bride Eugène had never seen (except on a coffee mug), or the love to hopefully party with Duroc and Bessières on his arrival. In any case, it seems he at some point picked up Rapp on the road, as Rapp in his memoirs claims to have accompanied Eugène to Munich.

It's not quite clear what happened next. The only thing everyone agrees upon: Eugène immediately reported to Napoleon, Napoleon wanted to present his stepson to the Bavarian family - and it cost Eugène the adornment of his manhood.

As already related here, Eugène in Egypt had suffered much from being the youngest of General Bonaparte's aides. Especially as he also looked the part. So the first thing he did in order to look a little more soldier-like was to grow himself a moustache. And this moustache now proved (in somebody's mind) an unsurmountable obstacle to a happy marriage.

Let's first hear Darnay again:

The emperor Napoleon had snatched the viceroy on his arrival, and had not left him since. This monarch was proud to present his dear student himself to the royal family of Bavaria and to the Princess Auguste. His Majesty was constantly preparing him for this ceremony, and went so far as to have the Viceroy's moustaches cut off in his own cabinet, so as not to frighten the timidity of the Princess Auguste by a too martial air.

But, as Darnay has told us himself, he was not even around when Eugène first entered the Residence, as Darnay only arrived twelve hours later, during the night. There is however another report by Mademoiselle Avrillion, lady-in-waiting to empress Josephine, who was already in the Residence. Personally, I find her version even funnier.

The empress was pleased to see her son contract a marriage which would associate him with the blood of the sovereigns of Europe, and at the same time all that she had seen of the princess Auguste, all that she had been told about her, made her foresee for the prince that inner happiness which is rarer among the princes of the world than among those whom fate has placed in a more humble condition.

The happiness enjoyed by the empress was, however, disturbed by a cloud; the prince had arrived very early in the morning, […]

Err – 10.30 AM, actually. That’s a little past dawn, even in January.

[…] and on arriving had gone immediately to the emperor. As the latter was not accustomed to lose time under any circumstances, after embracing his adopted son he took him by the hand and led him at once to the King and Queen of Bavaria, where the interview with his bride-to-be took place without any kind of ceremony, and so to speak in a bourgeois manner.

The prince, whom the emperor had sent for in all haste, had travelled day and night; on his arrival the empress had not yet risen; when, on entering her room, I announced to her that he was in Munich, she wept a great deal at the thought that the first visit of her son had not been for her, that after all she had not been the first to embrace him. A few moments later, and as she was still quite agitated, the emperor entered her room on his way back from the queen's apartment. I was a witness to this interview; the Emperor held Prince Eugene by the hand, and said, pushing him slightly forward: "Here, madam, here comes your great fool of a son whom I am bringing to you." The emperor often used, in his moments of gaiety, such expressions when speaking of the prince to the empress. Her majesty burst into tears as she embraced him. Who, moreover, would not recognise the susceptibilities of a maternal heart in one of the reproaches she made to the emperor for having presented her son to his betrothed without her having seen him first? It is well known that the prince habitually wore moustaches, and his mother thought he looked much better without them. "Why," she said, "did you present Eugene before he had cut off his moustache, without giving him time to make his toilet?" This observation, made with that emotion which always follows the moment when one has just shed tears, made the emperor smile, and he cheerfully excused himself for not having thought of objects of such high importance. The empress feared that the first impression might not have been favourable to her son; at last she did everything possible to persuade him to sacrifice his moustaches, and the day did not pass without the moustaches being cut off.

I guess we all can picture that scene: Eugène, unshaven, smelly and dishevelled after three days in a coach, bows in front of Napoleon and immediately gets dragged away across the residence to meet his bride. »So, that’s her. That’s him. Now do that falling-in-love thing so we can get on with the marriage. I got a banking crisis to solve!«

It seems all the more likely that the order to immediately shave was given by the empress and not the emperor, as there was already a precedent for this in Josephine's recent past:

At the end of 1801, Josephine had tried to arrange a marriage between one Michel Ney and Aglaé Auguié, a friend of her daughter Hortense. Unfortunately, the suitor had outright failed his bride-to-be's first examination - due to unacceptable hair and beard. (The painting above probably does not do the problem justice as it was only made in 1834.) Only after a complete makeover did the young lady show herself inclined to grant the gentleman a second interview, which then led to the desired result.

Josephine probably still had this traumatic experience in mind when she insisted that Eugène immediately get rid of that shoe brush under his nose! To what extent this was necessary is difficult to say; Eugène was allowed to grow his moustache again a few years later, presumably with his wife's blessings.

The incident however had not gone unnoticed by whatever went for a »paparazzo« those days and was duefully made known to the interested audience even as far as the Kingdom of Prussia. As the »Königlich privilegirte Berlinische Zeitung« wrote on February 6:

On his arrival in Munich, the Viceroy of Italy wore a small moustache, which he immediately had removed.

Well, either he, Imperial Maman or Imperial stepfather in any case. Amor does not only give wings, it also costs the most cruel sacrifices.

#napoleon #eugene de beauharnais #josephine de beauharnais #moustachesareasolutionforeverything #eugene's marriage #michel ney #aglaé auguié #napoleon's marshals #munich 1806

24 notes · View notes

jalapeno-princess · 4 years ago

Text

How Do I Get Over You?

Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: It’s so fucking sad guys let me just tell you that

Word count: 6.5K

Summary: Hey guys! So I was driving the other day and “Driver’s License” by Olivia Rodrigo came on and at first, I didn’t understand the hype but then I kept listening to it and this imagine popped in to my mind and now I’m sad. I’m almost done with part 3 of my fuckboy series so please stay tuned and thank you all for your patience. By the way, one in a million is a fucking BOP I’m so proud of my boy :(((((((( Mark Tuan deserves the universe. Okay happy reading (or should I say have fun crying)

I got my driver's license last week Just like we always talked about 'Cause you were so excited for me To finally drive up to your house But today I drove through the suburbs Crying 'cause you weren't around

And you're probably with that blonde girl Who always made me doubt She's so much older than me She's everything I'm insecure about Yeah, today I drove through the suburbs 'Cause how could I ever love someone else?

And I know we weren't perfect but I've never felt this way for no one And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that I'm gone Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me 'Cause you said forever, now I drive alone past your street

“P stands for?”

“Park.”

“Good. R stands for—“

“Reverse.”

“Good. N stands for—“

“Babe. We’ve been over this about ten times in the last week. I know the controls already. I just want to drive.”

You had gotten your permit a little over two weeks ago and you were more than excited to finally get on the road. You’ve been wanting to drive since the time you were old enough to understand what driving was. Watching your parents turn the steering wheel, press on the gas, accelerate and park—it just seemed like so much fun.

All of your favorite characters in the television shows you enjoyed watching knew how to drive—or at least that’s what you assumed when you were still young. Once you hit your pre-teen years, you understood that they were just pretending to drive—that it was just “television magic” that gave the illusion of them driving a moving vehicle but that didn’t stop you from wanting to learn. Your boyfriend Mark had gotten his license when he was only sixteen years old.

Technically, it was considered an intermediate license which meant there were a lot of rules he had to follow. He wasn’t allowed to drive without someone over twenty one years old, there could only be three passengers in the car at a time and he had a curfew of 10 o’clock p.m. As much as you begged your parents to allow you to start studying for your permit back when you were sixteen, they wanted you to focus on finishing high school before taking on such a big responsibility that came with being a licensed driver.

That didn’t stop your boyfriend from taking you out against your parent’s will and teaching you everything he knew about driving. Mark was almost five years older than you. You first met the older boy when you were in the second grade and he was right about to move up to the seventh grade. He was your oldest brother’s best friend at the time; the two of them were like two peas in a pod.

Where one went, the other one followed closely behind. If one joined a sport, so did the other. They were like magnets—always needed to be together. It was like that up until their sophomore year in high school. Isn’t wasn’t as though they had bad blood between them. Sometimes friends just grow distant.

Mark joined the football team whereas your brother was more of a soccer kind of guy. Their schedules began to collide a lot and it was actually pretty sad. Everyone who knew of the two of them just assumed that they were going to be friends forever, but it was only natural for both Mark your brother to go their separate ways.

Deep down, you’ve always harbored feelings for Mark. It was inevitable; you saw him almost every single day for the last six years. Although he could be a pain in the ass sometimes; not allowing you to join him and your brother as they would play video games, taking the last cookie from the cookie jar, making fun of your drawings in order to get under your skin—there was a point where you ended up hating him because you felt as though he had it out for you. But as the years went by and the two of you grew older, he became more kind-hearted and gentle around you.

Whenever he’d come over, he’d ask you how school was going, what you were interested in, if you needed help on any of your assignments and he would even buy you some snacks before heading over to your house. It didn’t help that he became more and more handsome with age—driving you to the brink of insanity each and every time you’d have to see him. When he and your older brother nonverbally ended their friendship, you were crushed.

Sure, you felt really bad watching the two of them over the years growing such a bond that you assumed would last forever only to decide that they were too busy to spend any time together. But you felt even worse knowing that Mark was no longer going to be in your life. When you turned fourteen and moved on to high school, you decided to join the track team because your parents claimed that they wanted you to have a good high school experience.

The first week of practice was actually pretty fun—albeit a little bit strenuous and tiring, but it was enjoyable. Little did you know that following week, your coach would bring in two previous students to help assist him in bringing your team to success. If you thought Mark was extremely good looking already, you were in for quite the surprise seeing him for the first time in two years since the end of his friendship with your brother.

Time was always so good to him; in fact, he looked much better now than he did when he was sixteen. Braces, bad haircut and the pitchy voice no longer existed. His voice was much deeper now, he was grazing six feet, his cheekbones were more prominent and his features were seemingly more sharper. He was just as excited to see you as you were to see him.

Maybe you imagined it in your mind, but deep down, you couldn’t stop smiling at the thought of getting to spend time with Mark again. You didn’t think much about being around him again—he was an assistant coach. He was there solely to help you with training and you were sure he probably saw you as his childhood best friend’s silly younger sister. However, you were quick to pick up on how Mark seemed to give you most of his time and attention.

He’d give your teammates excuses as to why he couldn’t help them or why he needed to coach you the most. At first, you assumed he was just trying to be nice because the two of you somewhat had a past together, but as the days went by and your conversations went beyond track and field—you were confident that his friendliness had nothing to do with the fact that you were well acquainted with one another.

Your friendship with Mark only got more and more tight knit to the point where you found yourself hanging out with him outside of school. It didn’t take long for your friendship to develop in to something more. Something beautiful—something, indescribable.

Seeing Mark again and spending majority of your days with him only brought back your feelings tenfold—especially because you were no longer a ten year old little girl anymore crushing on her brother’s best friend from a distance. You were old enough to understand what love was—or what you assumed was love and it didn’t take a genius to know that what you felt for Mark was more than just a small crush.

Since he was so much older than you, you pushed back the thought of him reciprocating your same feelings. He was a college student. He was devastatingly handsome, intelligent, outgoing, athletic, hardworking and very kindhearted. There must have been so many girls at his campus who threw themselves at him—he was a literal Greek God.

Guys like Mark were never single and although you didn’t consider yourself close enough to know what his exact type was, so you were confused and shocked yet over the moon when he stole a quick kiss from your lips and confessed his feelings for you while the two of you were out eating ice cream. You didn’t think there was anything wrong with the age difference—Mark was practically an older brother to you and you trusted him with your entire being.

However, you decided to keep him a secret in the fear that some people wouldn’t be so accepting of your relationship. Dating Mark was a dream. For the last three years, he’s shown you nothing but so much love, affection, adoration and happiness. He taught you how to love yourself—he took his time learning every little thing about you.

Mark Tuan was the actual love of your life and you didn’t care if you were still too young to know what love was. You’ve known it since you were six years old that the older boy was the person you wanted to give your entire being to. You wanted Mark for as long as you could possibly have him for.

He was very good in showing you and telling you on a daily basis exactly how much you meant to him and how he’s never been so in love with someone the way he he was with you. It all felt too good to be true. To love him and be loved by him—God it was such a wonderful feeling.

Before Mark, your life was so colorless—so dull. Waking up in the morning felt like a chore. You had to motivation to really do anything besides your responsibilities and you just assumed that it came with being a teenager. But when he stumbled in to your life again, it’s like something awakened inside of you. You’ve never felt more alive.

He gave you a reason to roll out of bed. He gave you the motivation to want to go out and go on adventures. To enjoy life and it’s many wonders. He made you the happiest girl on earth and you were never going to take his presence and his position in your life for granted.

“I know silly girl, and you will. I just want to make sure you know everything by heart. As much as I seem like an easy instructor, and how big of a pushover I am whenever it comes to you, I want you to be safe baby. The road is a dangerous place—“

“Yeah I know, I mean—you’re on it all the time—“

“Hey! I am an amazing driver. I’m a natural y/n. I was born to drive. Some people just have it in them and others—well others take a while to learn.”

You had a feeling he was hinting towards you, so you leaned over to playfully shove him but his reflexes were much quicker than yours. He placed a sloppy kiss on your lips before pulling away; earning himself a soft groan.

“Okay, press on the brake and then lift the lever to put it in drive—good. Just like that. Now slowly, press on the gas. Good job baby. Now—you can speed up a little bit faster—I said a little bit—y/n!”

You failed to notice the speed bump until you and your boyfriend practically flew forward. Maybe driving wasn’t as fun as you assumed it would be and by the look of nervousness on his face, you could tell Mark was soon regretting that he offered to teach you in the first place.

A small pout soon rose on your face; sure this was the first time you were actually driving the car and you weren’t meant to be a professional on your first lesson. But you still felt a wave of disappointment since you couldn’t even do something so simple as to driving at a slow pace. How did your boyfriend make it seem like it was the easiest thing on earth to do?

Most of the time, he’d only use one hand to steer the wheel and he’d always have his knee propped up—making it seem effortless. He was right though; there were some things he was extremely talented with that you practically suck at and there were some activities such as ice skating and baking that Mark could never succeed no matter how hard he tried.

You acted out of instinct; hitting the steering wheel in anger and abruptly putting the car in park. One of the traits you could care less about was your stubbornness. If something didn’t go your way, you were quick to grow angry and give up on whatever it was entirely. That’s just the kind of person you were and sometimes, you’d try to work on improving yourself because you hating lashing out on anyone for no reason.

Especially your boyfriend. Luckily Mark was very understanding and patient whenever you grew frustrated with something and he was very good with calming you down and making you feel better. Which is why it came as no surprise to feel one of his hands graze against your thigh as the other gently wrapped around your neck. His thumb glided against your nape and he began to leave gentle kisses along your cheek. Only then did you realize you were tearing up and it made you feel so pathetic.

“Baby.”

You didn’t want to look at him; you were sure that if you were to see the look of remorse in his eyes that you would cry like a baby and that was the last thing either of you needed at the moment. You just wanted to give up and have him take you back home. It was pointless.

Now you understood why your parents were so against teaching you how to drive. You weren’t even 18 yet. What did you know about adulting and everything that came with being an adult? Why were you trying so hard to rush your age? Why did you want to mature so quickly?

There was so much you had yet to experience—driving could come later. However, you felt like in order to be on the same level as your boyfriend, you needed to know how to drive. It was always him coming to pick you up from school or your house and he was always the one dropping you off.

Although he’s never complained about it once, nor has he asked you to pay for his gas or anything like that, you couldn’t help but feel like such a burden and you wanted to do this so that you could take care of him as much as he was with you.

He’d come drive twenty minutes to your house in the middle of the night if you couldn’t fall asleep and you were well aware there was a big chance he was tired as hell. But he came to you every single time. Sure, he’d fall asleep not to long upon arrival—yet you’d feel so safe and warm just having him around and being wrapped in his embrace.

Sometimes, tension would rise at your house; whether your parents would argue with each other, or scold you for something so minuscule—all you wanted to do was run to your boyfriend and find solace in him. Since Mark was in college though, you knew he had a lot on his plate and you didn’t want to add on to his stress by worrying him about problems you were old enough to handle on your own. He had to get irritated with you every now and then—he was only human.

Having your girlfriend call you at the most randomest times to come pick her up or to console her as she cried had to be burdensome. Just like right now, he was probably annoyed that you only drove one foot and ended up slamming on the breaks in his car. You weren’t too sure how cars worked, but the way you were so rough with the controls probably wasn’t a good thing to do.

“Hey, why are you crying?”

You continued to sit there, forcing your attention on the dashboard and hoping that he would just drop it. However, you’ve known the older boy long enough to realize that he wasn’t going to stop prying at you until you told him what was wrong. He allowed you to let it all out—you weren’t sobbing, but a few tears fell from your cheeks as you began to heaven silently.

Mark ran his fingers through your hair and tried to pull you towards him, but decided to let you be until you were ready to find comfort in him. If Mark was anything, it was considerate. You were confident that he was upset seeing you cry—especially because he must have known you were disappointed in yourself. Your boyfriend was very vocal about how much he despised hearing you degrade yourself and talk negative about your abilities because in his eyes, you were the most wonderful human being to walk this earth.

Nobody was perfect; but to him, you came really close. After a couple of moments, your cries slowly dissipated and to your confusion, he got out of the passenger seat. Right as the question of where he was going fell from your lips, he opened the driver’s door and motioned for you to get up. You were about to get out of the car completely in attempts to head to the passenger side; maybe you weren’t ready to physically learn to drive just yet.

Maybe he was going to teach you a little more from the driver’s manual and from his personal experience before allowing you back in the driver’s seat and honestly, you couldn’t blame him. He was already doing so much for you; allowing you to drive his car and putting not only his and your lives at risk, but the tip top shape of his truck and even his clean driving record since you weren’t under his insurance.

However, before you could do anything, you were being pulled on top of his lap as you felt his mouth smash up against yours. It took you a while to process the entire situation going on in front of you—kissing Mark had to be your favorite past time. His lips were your favorite drug and you could wholeheartedly confess that you were addicted.

You’d find any and every reason to kiss him. Even when you were in places that you should have refrained from any kind of skin ship with your boyfriend, you couldn’t go too long without feeling his soft lips meld perfectly with yours. Mark’s lips were one of your favorite features on him. Not only were the prettiest shade of pink, but they were plump and heart shaped.

When you finally came to your senses, you deepened the kiss and allowed him to shove his tongue inside of your mouth. You could feel him literally take your breath away the longer his mouth was on yours but you weren’t complaining. You would rather spend the rest of the day kissing him and even a little more than to attempt driving again. To your dismay, he hesitantly pulled away—making it obvious that he was fine continuing what the two of you were doing, but the urge to tell you what was on his mind was a little more overbearing.

“Mm—Mark—“

“If you were crying because you were upset with yourself over what just happened, then I need you to know that it’s okay baby. Please understand that it’s a learning process. I’m sorry if I seemed mad or if I raised my voice—I really didn’t mean to I just—I don’t know. I really don’t. Whether it’s because the thought of you in any kind of danger scares the shit out of me or because I don’t want you to grow up just yet—I don’t know what came over me and I’m sorry. But don’t you dare for a second beat yourself up about this okay? I’m so fucking sorry y/n. I’m trying to be a good teacher for you and I know you want to hurry up and get your license which I promise, I will make sure you do. Don’t be too hard on yourself okay? I know, I probably didn’t make things any easier with how I reacted a few minutes ago but driving can be terrifying. Every single time I’m on the road, it may not seem like it but I’m nervous out of my mind especially when you’re in the car with me. The thought of hurting you or being the reason why something bad happens to you drives me crazy. I’m so protective over you, now I can see why your parents are so against you driving. Ah, I’m bad at this.”

His words pulled tightly on your heartstrings like they never failed to do whenever he showed you or went in to explicit detail about how you meant the entire world to him. Mark wasn’t the kind of guy who act all big and intimidating—like he didn’t have feelings. Most of his friends tried to pretend as though they were manly and didn’t care about anyone but themselves. Your boyfriend on the other hand was the complete opposite. Mark was excited to show you off to each and every single person in his life or that the two of you would encounter. He didn’t care if it was considered “feminine” to have and show emotions.

He’d cry so easily at sad movies, or ads about sick children and animals in shelters. He’d cry if life could get a little too much for him to handle and if anything, it made him so much more of a man than those who tried so hard to conceal their inner feelings. This wasn’t the first time he confessed something so heartfelt to you, it’s happened on multiple occasions and it just really solidified the love he held for you.

Not once in your three years of dating did you ever question Mark’s feelings for you and you could only pray that you’ve shown him generously the exact same amount of infatuation that he’s never failed to give you. You repositioned your body so that you were face to face with him and wrapped your arms around his neck, placing a delicate kiss on his jaw and giving him a soft smile.

God, what did you do to deserve someone so selfless, so caring, so gentle and kindhearted, someone who gave you the world on a silver platter and treated you as if you were the most perfect little flower? He gave you a pout, obviously upset with the idea of you being sad and you found yourself bringing your hands up to either side of his face and lifting his lips up in to a smile.

“Don’t be sorry babe. If anyone should be sorry, it should be me. I kept begging you to take me out to teach me and even if you were hesitant, which you have your reasons to, you never said no because you know how much this means to me and how eager I am to finally start driving. I—I know you’ll probably think I’m an idiot for thinking like this and you’ve never done anything or aid anything to make me feel like this, but I consider myself such a burden to you—don’t look at me like that. I’m so grateful you are the way you are and I’m truly so blessed to call you my boyfriend. I’m just saying that if it were anyone else, they’d probably grow frustrated having to drive so much for me and because of me. I’m sure you’ve spent at least $1000 on gas money from having to drop me off and pick me up. I know—you do it because you love me, because you want to see me and spend time with me and because you’d do anything for me—but I know I tend to reach out to you at all the inconvenient times. I want to be able to do something for you for once. You said so yourself, you can’t wait till I started driving so that I can drive up to your house whenever you want to see me. Thank you for trying, and thank you for being so patient with me. I want to make you proud Mark. I’m already so much younger than you. Your friends probably wonder why you’re stuck dating a child. I’m not old enough to drink or go out to bars and clubs. I can’t even buy nail polish remover or Benadryl on my own. Im selfish. My desire to hurry up and get on the road goes beyond being able to drive. I want to be a girlfriend you can proudly show off to everyone—“

“Do I not do that enough already? Did I say something or did something to make you feel like our age difference or the fact that you’re only seventeen and I’m twenty-three is a problem to me? Because it’s not babe. Sometimes I forget that you’re still so young because you act so mature and you have such a good head on your shoulders. If it wasn’t for your cute little baby face, I would assume you were around my age. I don’t give a shot about what anyone has to say or think about our relationship. The only people who’s opinions matter to me is yours and mine. No. You’re not a burden at all. Ever. So take that stupid thought out of your head. Yes, I can’t wait for you to finally get your license but it’s not for the reasons you think. If you ever want to run away from home, I don’t want you having to wait almost half an hour for me to come get you. Once you start working, I don’t want you to catch the bus or walk home if I or one of your family members are not able to pick you up. Your safety is my number one priority next to your happiness. We can still keep practicing if you want to baby, but don’t feel like you have to drive if you’re doing it for me. Do it for yourself. I love you more than you will ever be able to fathom okay? You’re it for me. You’re my person—my soulmate. The only person I see myself spending my entire life with. I hope you know that I’m going to be the one who teaches our kids how to drive one day. I don’t need them crashing or totaling the car because you failed to teach them right—hey! What? I’m just being honest baby you’re lucky you’re cute. But seriously though y/n, don’t you ever for even just a second doubt your place in my life and what you mean to me.”

This had to be the coldest winter yet in California. You were currently in your car and the heater was on high, but you were freezing. You didn’t know what led you to sneaking out of your house at two in the morning; you couldn’t find it in yourself to fall asleep.

These last few months, you developed insomnia. No matter how hard you tried; taking sleeping pills, mentally counting sheep, staring at the ceiling in the hopes that your eyelids would close sooner or later, nothing seemed to work. After throwing on a jacket and some sweatpants, you tiptoed downstairs towards the living room and tried your very best to quietly close the door—not wanting to wake up your parents.

There was so much animosity between you and them that you blamed heavily on yourself. You only ever talked to them if they approached you first and even then, it was nothing more than a few sentences. As soon as you got in to your car that they got as a congratulations present for getting your license a little over two weeks ago, you started to drive with no destination in mind.

All you wanted to do was get as far away from reality as possible. You decided that you’d go wherever the road took you. Thankfully, since it was so early in the morning, there was hardly anyone on the road which meant you didn’t have to put too much effort in to driving. Your entire body felt numb—and it wasn’t because of the freezing weather.

You were so deep in to your thoughts, not paying any mind to your surroundings that you failed to notice where you ended up heading to. This road was so familiar; you’ve been down it more than a hundred times in the past few years. It was imprinted on both your mind and your heart.

Of course your subconscious would lead you here. It’s been a while since you’ve last took a trip down this street—you no longer had a reason to since that heartbreaking night a little over six months ago. That night had to be the worst in your entire eighteen years of your existence. All of a sudden, the painful memories of Mark leaving you alone in your backyard right after he ended your four year relationship as if it was the easiest thing to do came rushing back like a slap to the face.

I’m sorry, but I just can’t do this anymore.

He asked if he could come over and you didn’t think much of it. He spent most of his time over at your house only because the two of you had more privacy since it was just you and your parents whereas all three of his siblings and their families all lived at home.

When he arrived, you were quick to pick up on the fact that he seemed tense; as if something was wrong. You didn’t think much of it, maybe he had a hard day at work or school. If only you knew then what you knew now, you would have approached the situation much more differently.

As you tried to reach out for his hand, he abruptly yanked it away and that’s when red flags began to go off in your head. Did you do something wrong? Why was he visibly angry? What could have happened that made him so—so indignant? It’s as if something had possessed him; you’ve never seen him this distressed before in your many years of knowing him and it worried you.

So many negative thoughts began piling up and your head began to hurt. He walked over to the swing set your parents set up for you and your siblings and took a seat. You were about to ask him why he was acting so agitated when he beat you to it. It’s been six months, but you can still physically feel the pain in your chest to this day. His words replayed every single day as if they were taunting you; they were a constant reminder that he was no longer in your life.

That he was no longer your person—the love of your life. Everything he said to you, all the promises for the future was a lie.

I’m breaking up with you.

Your mind drew a blank; you couldn’t process the thought of no longer having him as your boyfriend. You remember asking why—you wanted to beg him, to tell him that you were willing to change whatever it was about yourself that he fell out of love with. You would have done anything to get him to stay. Everything hurt and you just wanted to collapse. It’s as if time stopped.

He refused to look at you—his vision was set to the ground, kicking at the dirt. There were so many questions that you wanted to ask him, so many things you wanted to say but nothing came out other than why.

When did he fall out of love with you? When did he realize you were no longer the person he saw himself spending forever with? Where did it all go wrong? Everything was just fine the day before. The two of you were cuddling up on his bed, watching some movies on Netflix.

He dropped you back to your house earlier that morning, kissed you passionately and told you that he loved you. What happened in the few hours that he was away at school that made him decide to do the unthinkable and break up with you? It was in that moment where all your insecurities about being too young, too innocent and inexperienced—too immature and not enough for him in so many aspects.

Your worst nightmares came true; he finally came to the realization that he could get a woman his age; someone much more successful, so much prettier, funnier, kinder—he was in his mid-twenties and you were just a teenager in high school. You were holding him back from so much. It was finally catching up to him. He was a grown man; taking care of his younger girlfriend shouldn’t even have to be his responsibility.

I’m no longer happy in this relationship anymore.

Once those words fell from his lips, you sank to your knees and began to cry. You knew it was pathetic, but with the very small amount of strength you had left, you crawled over to him and wrapped your arms around his legs.

Please. Please don’t leave.

You could try to beg him as much as you possibly could—you could cry and plead for him to change his mind. This man opened your eyes to so much. He made you so happy. He taught you how to love yourself so that you could love him to the best of your ability.

Mark Tuan was the rightful owner of your heart. He was your best friend before he was your life partner. How were you supposed to live without him? When you pulled away to take a look at him, he was void of all facial expressions. Why was he taking this so well; he was breaking up with you, the person he claimed he couldn’t live without.

He seemed fine—okay even. It was as if these last four years the two of you spent together—the many laughs, kisses, stolen glances, late night drives, all nighters making promises for the future, they no longer meant anything to him. Where was the Mark who adored you and loved you with his entire physical being? The Mark who drove over to your house at three in the morning just because he missed you.

The same Mark who stayed on the phone with your mom for almost two hours learning how to make you your favorite dessert to surprise you for your anniversary? The same Mark that would put on and wear face masks with you—dance to the most eccentric songs.

Where was the Mark who claimed that you were the one who set the universe in to the sky and who was this monster that practically ripped your heart from out of your chest and stepped on it repeatedly? You didn’t know who this stranger was standing in front of you.

It’s for the best.

The tears were hot on your cheeks; images of the first time you went over to his house as his girlfriend and not his best friend’s little sister. He brought you outside to the sidewalk and kissed you sweetly—bringing some of your hair behind your ear and complimenting you on how beautiful you looked. It felt like years ago and now that he wasn’t in your life anymore, it was hard to believe that even happened.

All your memories with Mark felt like a fever dream. Did your relationship ever even happen? Was Mark really ever in your life? Was he ever really yours? You wished you pried at him more—you just needed closure.

These days, you were so bitter, so depressed and unhappy. When you got your license, you honestly couldn’t even care less. A part of you didn’t even want to take the test. It would only remind you of Mark and what was no longer. You had no motivation to continue to learn how to drive at all. Your whole reason to get your license no longer existed.

Stupid, stupid girl. Why did you give yourself completely to someone else? Why did you trust someone with your heart? Your fragile, delicate heart. But it was Mark. You wouldn’t have expected him to do something like that. You haven’t heard from him since he left you not too long after telling you that he was done. You cut him off completely—deleted his number and blocked him on all of your social media.

A part of you, no matter how much you tried to push the thought of it at the back of your mind—you believed that there was a chance he just so happened to find someone else in college. Someone who could provide for him in ways that you couldn’t. Mark could have claimed that he loved you and that there was nobody else for him, but only he knew what was best for him and sometimes the person we live isn’t the person we need. You sat outside of his house for what felt like hours.

You couldn’t leave. It wasn’t as if you expected anything to happen. He wasn’t going to come out running to you with open arms, telling you that he made a mistake and that he misses you so much. No. That wasn’t going to happen. Your sobs echoed throughout the car—surely he was moved on already. For all you knew, he probably didn’t even live there anymore. The thought of not meaning as much to him as he did with you plagued you every single day. How could he be so unphased? Did you really mean that little or even nothing to him?

After everything you’ve been through together, how was he not hurting? How did the break up not affect him at all? In attempts to take your mind off of him, you turned on the radio—but ultimately ended up regretting that you did so.

Your song—your song with Mark—began to blast through the speakers. It was already at the chorus, but that was the part Mark claimed reminded him of your relationship. Life was never on your side, what did you ever do to deserve so much misery? Why was your life slowly falling apart at the seams? It was so unfair.

After allowing yourself some time to stop crying completely, you shut off the radio and drove away—not being able to stay much longer. Before you actually drove off though, you began to type in a phone number, one you knew by heart. You knew it was wrong, but you didn’t even care. Whether or not you got a response, it didn’t matter. He needed to know what the breakup was doing to you.

You: Hey. Not that you care, but I finally got my driver’s license. I just thought I’d let you know. 2:34 A.M.

You: Oh by the way 2:35 A.M.

You: I still fucking love you. 2:45 A.M.

Read at 2:46 A.M.

#got7 imagines #got7 #mark tuan #mark tuan imagines #got7 mark

56 notes · View notes

ffangirlingsince2001 · 4 years ago

Text

Nothing Alike: IX

Description: Geralt of Rivia has been tasked with taking out a fellow Witcher who has decided to settle down in a town. She has no intention of leaving and Geralt is forced to take matters into his own hands.

Geralt x Reader

Warnings: (future as well as present) violence, angst, smut, fluff, language

MASTERLIST

The journey to the palace should have only taken three days max. And the Geralt should have been free to go about his business. However, the prince had other ideas up his sleeve.

Upon awaking the morning after the incident, he proclaimed with great elation that Y/N would no longer be allowed to ride on a horse.

“If she’s going to act like a dog, she shall be treated like one,” he had proclaimed with great enthusiasm, as if it had taken him all night to think of it.

It probably had.

So, instead of moving at the reasonable pace of horses, they were subjected to the pace of a stubborn, disgruntled girl who wanted nothing more than to throw a tantrum.

A thick iron collar was padlocked to her neck, and her wrists were shackled together. They had considered her ankles as well, but Geralt had claimed it would take them too long if she couldn’t take large strides (not that she was taking them anyway). The collar and the shackles were connected to one another by a long iron chain that led to the prince’s horse, and to keep her compliant, a crossbow was trained on her at all times.

Geralt was forced to ride directly behind her, a silent reminder as to what they could subject him to if he put a hair out of line. He was forced to watch as she dragged her feet, slowing down until the prince gave the chain a tug, sending her to the ground. For a moment, she was being dragged across the floor, shoulder digging into the soft soil. Then she would struggle to stand, a difficult task when your hands were bound, and the horse never stopped moving. Eventually, she would get it, and for a while she would keep up an appropriate pace, but the indignation always returned and the cycled repeated.

When they camped, she was kept away from the fire’s warmth and given only scraps, a desperate attempt to break her spirit. Every night she was led into the prince’s tent, an offer, a bribe that if she were to take, small ounces of luxury would be granted to her. Every night she was tossed back into the cold.

It was those moments when Geralt didn’t mind the pace, because if they were moving slowly it meant that she hadn’t become another piece of land conquered by royalty.

When they did finally reach the palace, it had been a week and a half, and Y/N had been silent for three days (to the great annoyance of the prince who had screamed for an answer). While they had not harmed her, just as his threat had made them promise, she had still been abused. Her cheeks were shallower than they had been when they began. Hair matted; face covered in dirt, arms covered in cuts and bruises from hitting the ground. They burst through the door, the prince dragging her prize behind him as he entered the throne room.

All eyes turned to them, some interested, some full of hatred, all recognizing the woman who was being led forward like a wild animal. The prince pulled her forward, slamming the blunt edge of his sword into the bend of her knees, laughing as she dropped to the floor. He was going to soak in every moment, now that Geralt could no longer threaten him.

“I have returned,” the prince announced, arms outspread as he basked in the gasps of awe and wonder. The uncatchable beast had been caught, brought to her knees before their wealthy feet. The prince turned around to look at his prize, sprawled across the ground, but there was no such luck. She stared ahead, situated on her knees all while retaining a sense of entitlement. He had never seen someone look so regal while being mocked. “Bow before your king,” he growled, but she didn’t move. The only hint that she had heard him was a small moment where her lip twitched into a smirk. Struggling to maintain his composure, he motioned for a guard to step forward. A sharp sole slammed into her back and her forehead hit the marble forehead. When she sat up, emotion unchanged, a trickle of blood was running between her eyes. “I said, bow,” the prince howled, marching forward to do the job himself, but a booming voice stopped him.

“She is not my subject, therefor there is no need to bow,” the king said, standing from his throne, wrinkled finger pointing at his son. The prince looked ready to argue, to tantrum in front of the entire court, but for the first time since Geralt had met the pathetic boy, he held his tongue. “Do you seek trial?” he asked her, but she remained silent. Geralt willed her to speak, but she said nothing, only stared forward, daring them to execute her now.

“She does,” Geralt called, unable to bear the silence any longer. All eyes turned to him, including an extremely interested king’s. “She would like a trial.” Eyes returned to her and there was a small nod. Instantly, whispers filled the room like a tidal wave. “She will speak in front of the king, but the king only.” Another wave of uproar.”

“And I suppose you?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Then it is settled. Everyone out.” Protests erupted, but they were followed by quick footsteps exiting the room. Within moments all the remained were the king, Geralt, and Y/N. “You may unchain yourself,” the king murmured, almost with amusement, as he settled himself back into his throne.

Within an instant the cuffs fell to the ground and she stood, eyes dark as she studied the man across the room. Her fists were clenched to her side, but she did not advance as Geralt presumed she wanted to.

“Pull out a chair, sit, we have much to discuss.” Geralt was surprised to see she listened, dragging an ornate chair to the center of the room. “You may sit closer.”

“It is for both our safety that I do not,” she responded, voice harsh and rough from the lack of care.

“Both our safety?”

“If I sit any closer, I will want to harm you, and then your guards will be forced to kill me. Do not consider me rude, just realistic.” The king laughed and nodded in agreement, fingers drumming across the arm of his chair. The two stared at each other across the large expanse of the throne room before the king pulled a scroll from a beaded purse that sat beside him.

“Do you know what this is?”

“My crimes against humanity, I assume.”

“That is correct. Now, I will not insult you by assuming you are not capable of these acts, so you shall not insult me by lying about them.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Let’s begin then. I shall read your crime and you will defend them to the best of your ability. The swindling of towns people across the continent, namely within my own kingdom.”

“It was not a swindle; they were simply overconfident.”

“They knew you were a Witcher than?”

“Absolutely.”

“The murder of five Witchers who attempted to capture you under the order of the crown.”

“They had no intention of capturing, only killing. I was merely defending my right to trial.”

“Six counts of horse thievery, including from my own stables.”

“It was my horse, wrongfully stolen from me in an attempt to disable me.”

“The massacre of one hundred men and women.”

“They were taking part in slave trading; I was merely protecting the freedom of the people.”

“Slave trading!”

“Yes, slave trading. I was being held as well, and I have marks to prove it. Torture, branding, had I not killed them both my liberty and the liberty of a few dozen others would have been taken.” The king paused as he pondered her statement before continuing.

“Evading arrest.” She only smirked at him, a smirk that he returned. “The murder of your mother and father.” Geralt could barely hear what was said after the accusation. She had murdered her own blood, that was a crime he was not acquainted with. He strained over the blood rushing through his ears to hear her defense, but it did nothing to console him.

“They sold me out.”

“That is not a defense.”

“It was not meant to be.”

“You cannot take the law into your own hands.”

“You do.”

“I create the law.”

“So do I.” He stared at her before he began to chuckle, the deep sound quickly turning into a rolling laugh that echoed around the room. She didn’t flinch a muscle, merely watched him as he laughed away her statement. When he had finished, noticing that she was not smiling along he quickly righted himself.

“You are full of insolence.”

“That’s what they tell me.”

“I cannot in good conscience allow you to return to the outside world, but I can offer you a deal.” She raised an eyebrow, a silent gesture for him to continue. “We will either execute you, or you will work for me, and uphold my law.” Geralt’s heart sunk again, an offer she would never take. As she had said repeatedly, no one controlled her, and if that meant death over chains, she would take it.

“Then ready the gallows,” she replied coolly, confirming Geralt’s suspicions.

“You are making a mistake.”

“No, the only mistake made here today was the offer you just made me, as it was both a waste of words and air. Send me your dungeons and tie the noose quick because the only day that I will reside beneath you is the day you walk over my grave.” Geralt wanted to scream, to snarl and spit in her face until she accepted the man’s offer but he remained still, silently seething.

The king laughed once more, but it was not full of humor, it was full of hatred. He had not expected to be refused, and yet she had thrown it back in his face without an ounce of regret.

“Guards,” he called and two entered the room, swords already drawn, expecting the worst. “Escort our prisoner to the dungeons, and the inform the executioner there will be an execution tomorrow at sunrise. Call all to see for this will be their greatest victory.” They dragged her from the room, and even without the chains she did not struggle, merely smiled as they dragged her away, already readying herself for the final moments of her reign.

Taglist: @stuckupstucky @aurora-sweet @holyhumorliteraturelight

147 notes · View notes

mego42 · 4 years ago

Text

fav lines tag

RULES: share your favorite sentence/paragraph from each one of your fics and tag 6 other fic writers to do it too :)

tagged by the talented brilliant incredible @foxmagpie (💖)

tagging: @pynkhues @hypermania @bethsuglywigs @riosnecktattoo @missmaxime @sothischickshe @joeyjoeylee

some ground rules: I’m only doing brio fic bc at some point when I wasn’t paying attention I wrote a metric fuckton of it and we’re already gonna be here all day bc my other ground rule is I’m allowed to interpret the concept of a line however i want. i’m also gonna tell you why i picked them bc no one can stop me. cool? cool. good talk.

your monster looks like mine

okay so my first choice for fav would be the entire ~conversation around whether or not beth had a choice when she set rio up bc oooof I just love how that came out so! much! BUT if I’m limiting myself to something closer to a line, I’m going with this one. i love what it establishes for rio’s emotional state when it comes to beth, i love how it captures their push/pull constant one upping battle, I love the rhythm of the flow of it and the grandiose verbiage (i was having a frankly unreasonable amount of fun with natural phenomena imagery throughout the whole fic and this captures a bit of it). idk I just think it’s neat.

The words rip through him, a bright, blazing comet trail whipped across his sky, illuminatin’ his landscape, impossible to ignore.

Elizabeth’s spread out on the bed below him, golden hair tumblin’ around her face, mouth red and swollen, lookin’ up at him like she’s got him. Like she’s figured some shit out. Like she fuckin’ did something by putting that together.

Like Rio doesn’t fuckin’ know. Like that doesn’t fuckin’ haunt him, torment him, mock him every time she pulls some of her bullshit and he’s left picking up the pieces, knowin’ damn well what the right answer is but also knowin’ he’s always gonna be wrong when it comes to her.

a song inside the halls of the dark

another one where I’d pick a whole scene if I could BUT if the whole opening flashback isn’t on the table (idk I love it for 14,000 reasons including how it sets up the bookend structure for the chapter, how it sets up a bunch of the final payoffs, the tone of it, idk everything about it came out exactly how I wanted it to and I really love how it tees up the ending), then I’m going with this bit from the final brio scene. it ties back in a whole bunch of threads that have been woven in and out all the way back to the first chapter and closes them out in a way that also feels (to me) like a beginning which I love bc the whole theme of the chapter is it’s a beginning, not the end.

What does it mean then, that he’s slept so soundly beside her?

The playhouse glows softly. She wonders how many more times she can get away with sanding it before it weakens past the point of supporting the kids’ weight and the whole thing collapses.

Behind it, she can see the long shadow it casts reaching for the boxwoods bordering the yard. The lines of the structure frame windows of bright moonlight on the grass, eerily reminiscent of the windows that loomed large in the nightmares Beth abruptly realizes she hasn’t had in weeks. Not since that last night at Rio’s loft. And that’d been the last one since...his car. Canada. The night all of this started.

Beth blinks. What does it mean that she’s slept so soundly beside him?

A-live, alive, alive, I—

Her breath catches.

—

pills’n’potions

I don’t have any grand reasoning for why I picked this bit from the 4th (i think?) ~ch as my fav, I just really like writing annie and rio interacting and I especially love writing them with annie like, intellectually aware that she should probably be afraid of him but also spiritually incapable of not being herself and rio being wildly annoyed by it

"What?" He asks, giving the t an edge sharp enough to cut.

There's a pause. "What like you didn't hear me, or what like what do I want?"

[...]

"Hello?"

Now the sister sounds like she's getting annoyed, and Rio's really gotta do somethin' about the two of them runnin' 'round actin' like he's someone they can get away with not takin' seriously. Like he's some sort of pet. Defanged. Declawed. Fuckin' neutered.

"Get to the point."

"I mean, I kind of did in the message."

—

trade my heart for honey

the only thing sexier than rio being good at pool is beth being a fucking shark and rio being out of control turned on by it.

Dropping all pretense at being less than she is, Beth grabs the cue ball, positioning it slightly to the left of center where the felt is slightly more worn. Even without the tell, she's seen Rio put it there enough times to know it's the table's sweet spot. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Rio shift his weight before she tunes him out entirely, drawing the stick back and letting it fly.

It's as close to a perfect break as she's probably ever managed. The cue ball connects dead on, scattering the rest far and wide. The one and the six drop neatly into pockets, the four and five coming to a stop right on the edge of the left side and far left corner, nearly closing off that whole side of the table.

Every stripe remains in play.

"Solids," she says, not letting herself dwell on the way Rio's mouth hangs slightly open, his eyes glazed over.

—

swaying evergreens

the whole theme of this fic is the terrifying intimacy and vulnerability of sharing your most precious moments and memories with someone you care about and I like how this touches on that along with sort of nutshelling the double edged sword of grief-tinted memory which is another major theme

There's somethin' extra about these unguarded moments. That Elizabeth trusts Rio enough to drop her guard completely and give him this completely unvarnished look at her. It's been over a year since he's been back in her bed, since the first time he'd slept here, but there's still somethin' tentative about it. Like there's a part of him that's never going to be all the way over the first time he'd been here, that can't fully believe how far they've come, that this isn't going to crumble, melt, drain away.

Truthfully, Rio doesn't mind it, that faint edge. He's well acquainted with the different flavors of loss, and the threat of it's a counterpoint that keeps him sharp. Lets him know this is real but not somethin' he'll take for granted.

—

swear on a silver knife

there were a couple of sexy tension bits that made for strong contenders but ultimately this won bc I’m obsessed with how this reference to 306 came out.

“I told you. I got my own debts to pay.” He bit off the words like it cost him something to repeat them.

Beth shivered, abruptly right back at that picnic table, cheeks wet and staring at him, searching for any hint of the man she’d—she’d—anyone besides the cold, unfeeling stranger sitting beside her, blood so fresh on his hands she could nearly smell it underneath the scent of the cold, misty night rain falling around them, blurring her eyes, beading in her hair and on his eyelashes.

—

listening through the air shaft

this was a really hard one to narrow down but I ultimately went with this but bc I love it for a culminating look at how beth and rio’s relationship has evolved throughout the fic and also bc a version of this scene was the first thing I wrote for the whole fic so it was fun to finally get there with everything in place behind it. I also just love it as a reference for the dichotomy of both beth and rio and also how complicated that is makes being around them for everyone else

They aren't even doing anything, just quietly working side by side, but there's a synchronicity to their movements, a quiet peace that makes Dean feel more like an intruder than anything else that's happened today, and he hates it.

It’s so far from the guy that’d broken into his home, beaten him up. Who’d looked at him with those terrifying, blank, shark eyes before casually shooting him in the chest like it was nothing right where they’re about to sit down and share a meal.

A guy, Dean suddenly realizes, he hasn’t seen any hint of in a long, long time. It’s not that he doesn’t think that part of him isn’t there, it’s just...it’s weird, is all, how completely he puts it away.

It reminds Dean of Beth, actually, now that he’s thinking about it.

God. They look so...so domestic. Sweet. Disarming in a way that completely undermines everything Dean thought he'd known about the guy and their whole...thing.

He just—he doesn't get it, what Beth sees in him.

—

now use both hands

idk I just like this bit let me live

"What are you—what service?"

He makes himself take the route through the showroom that brings him right past her, leaning in and softly brushing a lock of hair out of her face for the first time in longer than he can remember.

Her eyes flutter shut, and he feels absolutely nothing.

"Helping sad, lonely housewives get off once their husbands are done with them."

Her eyes snap open, and he makes himself look at her long enough to watch the hit land and the hurt bloom.

He's empty, untouchable, she's nothing to him.

Rio doesn't look back.

—

I'd give her a HA! And a HI-YA!

you can take my made up backstory for rio and mick from me when you pry it from my cold dead hands.

Mick had been there the first time Rio'd had to get his hands all the way dirty and had kept an eye on him when he'd gotten blackout drunk after, and Rio'd done the same for him. Every bloody, grimy step Rio'd climbed, Mick had been right there with him, watching his back all the way to the top.

The point is Rio's Mick's brother in every way that counts.

Mick'd seen him twisted up over business and twisted up over personal shit, but he's never seen him let both get twisted up like he had since that fuckin' weasel Boomer'd got his ass handed to him and Rio'd gotten curious about it.

—

as the world turns, the blunt burns

I pull this every time I have to pick a fav and I can’t even really explain it aside from I think I’m really, really funny and that’s enough

Beth suddenly sobers as much as she can when she feels like she's simultaneously floating away and sinking into the Earth and wipes her eyes. "Are you gonna get in trouble?"

"You're in the house, ain't you?" He's answering Beth but looking at Rio.

"Mick," Beth frantically tugs at his pant leg because apparently, he doesn't have all of the information. "We're in the yard."

"Yeah, Mick," Rio says, glaring. "You're in the yard."

Mick shrugs, and Beth realizes he isn't scared of Rio at all. That's a neat trick. How does he do that? Maybe he can teach her.

—

smoke, fire, it’s all going up

there are realistically many other better lines in this fic but this one never fails to make me laugh so it remains my fav.

"You- you-" She sputters at him, flailing around a little. "You were the one that started mailing me pieces of a dead body."

"You blocked my number." Rio snarls, which is not what he'd meant to say, and he hates that she trips him up.

"That is not a proportionate response!"

—

got a kiss (with your name on it)

it was this or the text exchange at the beginning of the fic bc I strongly believe established relationship brio would continually roast each other for their past dumbassery but the elizabeth kink won out

"Come here," Rio's voice is thick but insistent in a way that brings every cell of Beth's body to attention. She hooks her thumb over her bottom teeth and drags her lower lip a little, a gesture full of who me mock innocence, waiting for him to say-

"Elizabeth." There it is.

There's an endless amount of things that Beth finds ferociously, irresistibly sexy about Rio, but when he says her full name in that commanding tone? Even if she's pissed the fuck off and has no intention of doing what he wants, it gives her goosebumps.

—

say it’s all in my head (i remember what you said)

I will be real with y’all, I forget I wrote this fic a lot of the time hahahaha but! that means every time I’m reminded I go back and am like oh yeah! I like this! anyway there isn’t like, one specific but I really love most as much as I really like the tentative breathless nervousness and then also overwhelming so muchness and I like how this but captures both of those

For a single, breathless moment, she stands in the middle of the room, alone and terrified.

Then Rio wets his lips and comes towards her, moving with that languid grace she's never been able to look away from even before she had any idea why that could be.

All of the fear collapses like a dying star, sending a supernova of relief and molten heat zinging through her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Her head swims, and every cell in her body feels like it's leaning towards him- like she's made of magnets on a molecular level and he's the lodestone.

He gently pushes her bangs off of her forehead, slowly running his fingertip down the side of her face, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He tilts his head towards hers and stops, going no further than halfway, leaving it up to her to close the distance.

She lets her eyes fall shut as she leans into him and tentatively touches her mouth to his for the first time.

—

the world is on fire (and no one can save me) / what a wicked game you played (to make me feel this way)

two for one!!! idk if either of these is my number one favorite line from either fic individually but I really like how they both play together. I like writing beth and rio pov and having them mirror each other’s narration both in thought and structure a lot bc I like thinking of them as two versions of the same

Beth checks her phone, nothing from Rhea, and sends a quick I'm here, text me when you're close, and I'll grab a table before wetting a paper towel and wiping away the last of her smeared mascara. With precise, brisk movements, she snaps open her bag and fishes out her compact, her lipstick, and her mascara; lining them up click, click, click on the tiny shelf below the mirror.

She can live with this; she has to live like this; she will live like this.

She flips open the compact and methodically dabs away the flush and pallor and shadows that are not grief, are not loss, are not anything other than shock and horror that she'd gone so far, that she'd lost control, that she'd killed a man (that man).

and

So what the fuck had he been doin' with Elizabeth fuckin' Boland, giving her chance after chance to cross the line? What the fuck was the point of a line if it might as well not be there at all? All because he liked her big blue eyes and the way she worked a tight sweater? Nah, that ain't him. That can't be him. That's the kind of shit that'll get you killed, and he's got three spent bullets in his pocket and a scar next to his heart if he ever needs the reminder again.

He shifts in the driver's seat, reaching into his pocket and fishing the bullets out. Lining them up on the dashboard with a definitive click, click, click. He looks past them to the brightly lit valet station. He's been parked in the back of the lot for ten minutes now, waiting for Rhea to give him the go sign. He ain't hiding, doesn't need to, Elizabeth ain't lookin' for him, he just wants to make sure he sees her before she sees him. Get a good look first, so he can size up the situation.

#good lord when did i write so much fic?????????#imagine if i hadn't onlly stuck w/ ch 12 of song #it would've taken me weeks to do this #tag games #my fic #shut up meg #gg related

18 notes · View notes

eivorsjawline · 4 years ago

Text

Trigger warning: smut and talk of blood/open wound.

You take a medieval bath in the opening of this chapter in the safe space of a close friends estate. When you return to the settlement you’re greeted by Eivor with a sweet bouquet. You both head back to your room and having a little one on one time before getting disrupted by someone at the door.

Chapter 5: Sweet Escape

Readers POV

Bjorn ended up bringing me to whom he calls Erke’s living quarters. One of the servants made a bath for me to clean myself off, it had been so long since I had a nice bath. The servant filled an ewer with fresh spring water, heated it up then poured it into a large wooden tub. Careful to not step in too early, I waited and let the steam hit my face.

I started to strip my clothes off and after a while of letting the water cool down, I poured a pitcher of the warm water over my hair. A bucket lay nearby for me to place any of the now dirty suds. I ran some of the soap through my hair and began to scrub afterwards rinsing it out. Wrapping my hair in a linen towel, I stepped into the tub and started scrubbing my body all over.

It's insane to think of how we take for granted the small things in the modern world. I soaked in the tub worrying about the settlement and how Eivor was handling everything. Though I'd never seen her in battle, I imagined she fights like a true warrior. Even in modern times Eivor would be considered strong and brute. However, my wandering mind still managed to come up with dreadful worries and scenarios.

Though I didn’t want to leave the bath, the water began to cool down a little too much for my liking so I stepped out onto a towel on the ground. I started to rub myself dry with the extra towel getting my legs, chest and arms. An assortment of oils and herbs in jars lay on the table near me. I washed my face with some more soap and water residing in a basin and then doused my face in rose oil, afterwards removing the towel from my head. Feeling clean and fresh, I pulled a long tunic over me along with a pair of undergarments and headed towards my room.

Erke’s furry friend Tibert, a chubby orange striped cat joined me alongside the bed and begged me for pets. Since I was here alone basically, I might as well have someone accompany me while I slept tonight. I blew out the candles next to my bed and rested my head on the fluffy feather pillows. There was no way I was getting any sleep tonight but I still tried, until the bone shattering emotion of loneliness covered me. Since I’d arrived I missed my home, I missed my friends too, the technology, and even the food. Nevertheless, I missed Eivor more than anything else.

My eyes began to water and then I heard creaking footsteps near the door. It was so late, who could possibly be here at this time? With a knock on the door I heard Bjorn’s voice asking me if he could come in. I jumped up from bed and opened the door from him, hoping for news on Eivor and the settlement.

“It’s not looking good. We have to relocate the camp completely.”

His words shattered my heart and made my already disheveled mind worry even more. I started to pace around the room and my anxiety set in. Myself and war had not been acquainted yet due to the sheltered life I’d lived compared to these people.

“What about Eivor? Please, tell me she’s okay.”

“Eivor is fine, for Randvi I cannot say the same. She was struck and the wound is very bad. I'll take you to the new location in the morning, you must rest here for tonight. Eivor instructed me that I stay and keep watch for you.”

Even from afar I felt protected by Eivor. Although relieved I didn't have to be alone tonight, I felt bad for Randvi. I hoped she would be okay even if she didn’t care much for me. She was very strong, stronger than I could ever be. Bjorn and I conversated a bit about where the location will be before saying goodnight and heading to bed. I closed the door and noticed Tibert still laying there. Swooping the covers over my legs, I snuggled up with my new furry friend and tried to rest but I knew damn well I wouldn't be getting any of that tonight.

Eivors POV

The next morning

I woke up in the morning and the first thing I felt was the soreness of the cut in my arm. Blood ran through the linen covering my wound overnight. Letting out a groan, I reached over the table next to my bed for the medicine that Valka gave me and applied it to the cut before cleaning myself and rebandaging.

The new settlement was surprisingly nice. A larger pond to the west of the new longhouse, good for fishing. The land was more vast and colorful flowers grew by the riverbank. When sunset came you could see the light hit just over the valleys and the bushes and trees grew with the greenest of leaves and ripest fruits. Almost everything was finished setting up with the exception of a few huts.

My head pounding from little to no sleep, I decided to go check on Randvi. I figured Valka was probably keeping a close eye on her so I headed there. Valka’s hut was just East of the longhouse and across, a closer span than Ravensthorpe. On my way there I couldn't help but to think of [y/n] and how I missed her. I wish I could have been with her last night but I had to get the people to safety first, all I could do was send Bjorn with her.

Walking into the seer's hut I could smell her cooking some sort of potion, the smell of lavender filled the air. Randvi lay next to her, the life in her eyes seemed to be returning. She lost so much blood, but she fought through it. Kneeling down to get to her level, I saw the corners of Randvi’s mouth form a smile as if she were happy to see me for once.

“You look better than ever.”

“Oh, stop it.”

Randvi let out a small laugh then thanked me for helping her last night. She explained that she tried to fight back but she was far too late for the Picts had already infiltrated the camp. Our conversation was brisk but for the first time I felt a genuine friendship forming between the two of us and a mutual respect. Valka joined in saying Randvi should be back on her feet in no time.

Perhaps even through all of this, we lost nothing and only gained. Today was a bright sunny day and those days were very rare in this green land. After one of the worst storms I’d ever seen, today was a new day. Since we moved further south west into the country, there was no need for a heavy cloak at least for today. I settled for an embroidered gray tunic rolling up the sleeves, a pair of brown linen trousers and secured them with a belt afterwards, lacing up my usual boots.

Looking out the window, I saw [y/n] leave Valka’s hut. I presumed Bjorn sent word of what happened. Quickly, I combed through my hair, fixed my braids and snuck out the back of the longhouse. Some red and blue flowers grew by the backyard and I began to pick some off the vines, creating a small bouquet.

This feels stupid, yet I cant help myself.

I gripped the bouquet in one hand and hid it behind my back, straightening my posture before approaching her.

A cheeky smile formed on her face when her eyes met mine and a grin escaped me.

“Eivor, how are you feeling?”

“Better now that you’re here.”

Grabbing her by the waist with my free hand, I pulled her in for a peck on her soft lips. Slowly, I revealed the flowers I picked for her and she looked down at the ground as if flustered by the small gesture.

“For me? That's so sweet…”

Exchanging the flowers from my hand she stood up tall to reach for a kiss and with a bend of my knees our lips met once again. Our hands clasped one another and I led her to show her around the new settlement then finally our new room in the longhouse. We exchanged some more passionate kisses in private before stopping and snuggling on the bed.

“There is something I wanna talk to you about.”

After hearing my words she repositioned herself, ready to listen to what I have to say.

“Of course, what is it?”

“Be honest with me, do you miss the future?”

“With every fiber of my being, there is so much that I miss. Everyday, I realize there is something that I miss about my time.”

I reached to stroke the hairs on the back of my neck and avoided making eye contact. The weight of her words hit me hard, to think she was in a foreign place with no one she knows. Noticing the change in my body language, she nudged my shoulder.

“There something else. Tell me the truth and look at me.”

“You want to go back, don't you?”

She placed her small hand over mine and pushed herself closer to me.

“Even though I miss it, I would give up all of that to stay here with you.”

I let out a sigh of relief and placed my hand on her thigh.

“Prove it, then. Show me how much you’ve missed me.”

Readers POV

Letting out a chuckle, I pushed Eivor on the bed and started to kiss her neck. Eivor let out a soft moan underneath me and started to caress my body over the tunic I was wearing. Already trying to reach for my shirt to pull it off, I pinned her hands back and gave her a passionate wet kiss. Eivor bit my bottom lip and started to squirm underneath me. She had all the strength to push my hands back but she let me hold her down instead. The heat radiating off our bodies grew as Eivor started to grind her pelvis underneath me, my legs wrapped around her.

I released her hands and started to explore her body, placing kisses on her collarbone. I lifted her shirt off and started to toy with her breasts, rubbing one of her pink nipples between my fingertips and my tongue making circles around the other whilst looking her in the eyes. Eivor moaned my name and arched her back as I continued to tease her. I ventured lower in between her rib cage and then back up, the tip of my nose rubbed against her ivory skin.

One of my hands ran up and down her torso as my fingers played with her belt buckle. From the downwards view I had of her I caught a glimpse of her biting her lip. After undoing her belt one notch at a time, I pulled her pants off along with her underwear as she lifted her body to aid me. Her subtle happy trail glimmered in the sunlight. Appreciating her body, I started to kiss her inner thighs and watched as Eivor melted into the bed. I pressed my fingers and massaged the folds of her labia, noticing she was even more wet for me than last time.

“Is this what you want, my wolf?”

Sticking my tongue out and swirling against her hole, I made sure to get a good taste of her. Eivor’s moans grew heavier and she pulled the hairs falling onto my face to the side to get a better view of me eating her out. My tongue started to focus on her swollen clit and began to flick with vigor. Eivor threw her head back trying to keep her eyes open as she spread her long legs wide for me to feast on her. My middle and ring finger slid into her wet pussy and started working her from the inside. Her walls clenched tight around me as I pounded and curled. Pulling my body up for Eivor to taste herself on my tongue, my fingers remained inside her but back to a steady pace. Eivor grabbed my face to kiss me harder and moaned in my mouth.

“You’re gonna make me cum all over you if you keep fucking me like that.” She whispered in my ear with her raspy deep voice.

While our tongues clashed, I stretched my fingers as far as I could and pounded her into oblivion with all the strength I had. I felt Eivor’s muscles twitch and saw her chest start to convulse as her cum coated my fingers. I pulled out of her and let her watch me lick my fingers clean. With no time to catch our breaths Eivor began to strip my clothes off one by one before pinning me down on my stomach onto the bed.

“How dare you fuck me with all your clothes still on!”

She pulled my arms back and latched onto my wrists kissing the back of my neck. Her firm authoritarian grip and the stretching of my back muscles and arms caused me a miniscule amount of pain that made me want her to really have her way with me.

“Mmm, what are you gonna do about it?” I let out a moan and gave her a cheeky grin.

Before I knew it Eivor’s hand met my bare ass with a slap, the sting making me moan out loud. My back arched and with small breaks she spanked me again and again. My eyes closed but quickly opened when I felt Eivor’s wet tongue start fucking me from inside, her rough hands grabbing onto my now red ass cheeks. Switching her focus she started to flick her tongue fast on my clit, almost making me climax. Eivor pulled herself up and started whispering in my ear.

“Oh, you better not cum yet… Such a dirty girl, letting me fuck you like this. You’re so damn loud, everyone will hear you.”

She cupped my mouth with the palm of her hand and muffled my moans, her other hand teasing the entrance of my soaking wet cunt. She slipped two long slender fingers inside of me, stretching me nicely, sliding from the tip of her fingers down to her knuckles with a steady pace. Her fingers twisted inside of me, making sure she filled me as deep as possible.

Eivor’s hot breaths onto the back of my neck sent chills down my spine. The sounds of her pounding me from behind and my suppressed moans were all that could be heard. Eivor didn’t care how loud she made me moan, only for the pleasure that she gave to my body and neither did I. The stress of the outside world quieted as we released onto one another.

A knock on the door interrupted us and suddenly we stopped, turning to one another with evil grins. Trying not to laugh, we rushed to put our clothes back on. Before now, I had never got dressed faster. Eivor fixed her shirt and fastened her belt buckle, fixing her hair. Feeling a little flustered, I ran to hide behind the door so whoever was behind it couldn’t see me in the room. Clearing her throat, Eivor straightened up and switched from her playful demeanor to her serious one before opening the door.

Eivor’s POV

“Well, don't stop now that I’m here. Continue just as you were, Wolf-Kissed...”

“Rollo, long time no see my good friend!”

Thankfully, Rollo was never one to judge people for what they do behind closed doors. After we gave one another a friendly embrace and exchanged a few jokes, our conversation turned to more important matters. So distracted from [y/n] returning, I completely forgot we had discussed plans for a raid this evening. Peeking past the door I noticed [y/n’s] face changed from an impudent smile to a sour expression. I told Rollo to give me a moment and wait outside before closing the door.

“You’re already hurt, why go on a raid?”

“I'm not sure how things are where you’re from, but this is normal. We lack resources, It’s what must be done. I'll be careful, just for you. Besides, plenty of others will be at my side.”

She crossed her arms and tilted her head while looking down.

“Also, what's this? I found it in your belongings when I was packing up my bedroom.”

I reached into a bag that held the clothes I found her in and a rectangular platform that lit up when held to the light. I shook it and gave it a bang on the table to see if It would do something else before she reached and grabbed it out of my hand.

“Dont! Holy shit, that's my phone!”

Your what?

After entering some sort of code, she swiped the strange gadget and It appeared as if she unlocked something on it.

Looks complex...

“There’s still some power in it, no service of course. Eivor, come here and look.”

Though confused, I took a look and she showed me an assembly of what she called, “pictures” of her previous life. She looked different and the world around her looked different. She showed me pictures of her with friends, and places she traveled to. My curiosity grew more from what she showed me. We don't have anything like this, so any doubts I had about what she told me completely disappeared. A loud bang on the door interrupted us, I assumed Rollo was getting impatient.

Damn, I have to leave.

I gave her a kiss and reassured her everything would be okay before leaving through the door.

#fem!eivor #fem eivor #eivor x reader #female eivor #ac valhalla #fan fiction #assasins creed #assasinscreed #writers on tumblr #series #reader insert

69 notes · View notes

silence-burns · 4 years ago

Text

Please Hate Me //part 34

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers

Your hand felt warm and soft in his, and just the right size for holding on the way back to the Tower. The day turned to evening, and the evening into an early night before you even realised. Street lamps were already fighting off the crisp darkness as Loki and you strode through the thin layer of fresh snow.

It had been an interesting day. Loki looked at the small figurine, bearing some unmistakable similarities to the way he had looked back during the New York invasion. Finding it on the shelves of a shop you took him to was a strange feeling. There were so many different ones, both of him and the Avengers, and even people he could only guess were some other heroes or important figures on Earth. It was clear from looking at them that whoever had created them, paid great attention to details and colors.

The face underneath his favourite golden helmet looked slightly off, if Loki had to be painfully honest, but it wasn't completely wrong either. The wrinkles of the cape, and the leathery fabric of his armor were like their real counterparts. He could almost feel it on him as he looked at the tiny version of himself you insisted on purchasing.

Loki wasn't sure why it had been put on the same shelf as the Avengers, and your explanation wasn't very helpful. He didn't feel angry, though, just a little confused.

It felt fragile in his palm, so he made sure to handle it with care. For reasons unknown to him, you insisted that you wanted to put it in your room, preferably by the window so that it could be as close to snow as possible. Loki didn't follow your line of argument, but the care you talked about it with warmed his heart.

Loki was still holding it when you walked into the elevator, and was smiling softly as the automatic doors opened to let you enter the common area of the floor.

More precisely, the sitting area that was currently in use.

"This is awkward," you said as the two of you stopped in front of the Avengers, in an atmosphere so heavy and tense that it could be cut with a knife.

For some reason, Peter was there too, sat in the back, between a stone-faced Steve and Natasha whose mood was, as usual, unreadable.

Thor, with his back to you, stared or pretended to stare through the window. He had his cape off, and you could see Mjolnir put down nearby. Banner was standing next to it, completely lost in nervous cleaning of his glasses with the hem of his shirt.

"It's almost as if they have been waiting for us, like a puppy left at home for too long," Loki said lightly, but the joke didn't reach his eyes. They scanned the brightly lit room with a trained intensity.

The hand still holding yours tightened.

"Where have you been?" Steve asked flatly.

"Out."

"Why?"

You shrugged. "We kinda prefer a company of people who know how to have fun. What have you been doing here all this time? Having a stare off? Discussing the bills?"

You could've sworn there was a shadow of a smile on Natasha's face, but it disappeared as quickly as it happened. Peter, on the other hand, was sitting very, very still with his back uncomfortably straight, looking around with wide eyes. It was clear he had absolutely no idea what was going on. Most likely, he just wanted to come by the Tower to talk everyone's ears off about how his totally-not-a-date went. It looked like he was unlucky enough to get involved in whatever was going on.

"This is really not the right time for jokes.” Tony massaged his temples, as if whatever headache he had could be worked off by regular circles.

"And that's why it's always so serious in here-"

Tony huffed and fished something out of the pockets of his suit. He almost pushed it into your hands before you could even protest. Loki watched him with an ice-cold glare and you could've sworn the temperature in the room dropped by a few degrees.

"The hell is this?" you frowned, unpacking a few photos of various shapes and sizes. Loki peered over your shoulder.

And smiled.

Tony felt his blood boil. "May I ask when precisely did you plan to inform us of your little 'engagement'...?"

The photos were all from different places, but they had two things in common. One was you. The other was Loki. The enchantment put on him prevented strangers from recognizing his features, but it did nothing against people who had already been acquainted with him - like the Avengers.

An uncontrollable wave of laughter erupted out of you as you looked at all the stupid, love-sick poses that had granted you so much free cake all those weeks ago. So much had happened since then, both in general and in between the two of you, it was actually hilarious that something like that had finally resurfaced.

Tony was far from sharing your mood. "I have no idea what is so funny, but I was far from laughing when Happy noticed those in my favourite bakery while getting doughnuts. And he was even less happy than usual to find similar atrocities committed in other places-"

That was too much for you. You bent in half, shaking and flushed. Loki didn't seem to mind. If anything, he looked strangely satisfied while looking through the photos.

Steve cleared his throat. "When did you-"

"I KNEW IT!"

Everyone started when Peter finally broke. Before anyone managed to stop him, Peter leaped off the couch and closed Loki and you in a bone crushing hug. "I love you guys so much and I'm so happy for you."

Clint, who had been completely silent up to that point, and to be honest also more than a little confused, asked "Wait, so you knew about them this whole time? Why is no one telling me shit? Why am I always the last one to know?"

Natasha patted his knee and silenced him. She was having way more fun than she had originally anticipated. The colors changing on Tony's face in a rapid succession were truly a work of art.

Peter stared at Loki with pure, unfiltered adoration in his eyes that even your breathless choking couldn't break. "I didn't know about the engagement, but it all makes so much sense now. Please, Mr. Mischief, can I be a flower boy at your wedding? I've always wanted to, but Aunt May never allowed me, but I promise I'll be the best flower boy ever, I swear it!"

The colors on Tony's face stopped changing. He walked over to the cabinet and took hold of the whisky bottle.

Steve looked as if he needed that kind of support too, but tried his best to hold it together. Thor, to Loki's great surprise and even greater suspicion, still stood in front of the window. The only sign that he was indeed listening to the mess unraveling in the brightly lit living room were the whitened knuckles of his hands.

Peter misunderstood Loki's silence for a no. The boy dropped to his knees and hugged Loki's leg tightly. "Please, Mr. Loki! Don't leave me out of this, I've been supporting you from the very beginning! I have every comic book made about you and every figurine available on eBay and I even wrote an essay about the Nordic pantheon last year!"

The tears in the boy's eyes were what had utterly destroyed you. Completely breathless from laughing that you just couldn't hold back, you dropped to the floor next to the boy. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, and you gasped for air that just couldn't get to your lungs. Your stomach was a painful mess and no matter how much you wanted, you just couldn't stand straight.

The whole situation was so ridiculous and unexpected, that every time you tried to get a hold of yourself in order to explain that mess, you started laughing all over again.

That was precisely the moment when Thor finally moved. He walked in a slow, menacing manner that had always raised tension in the room. The look in his eyes was one that Loki came to know all too well throughout the centuries they'd spent together.

"Why are you always like this, Loki?"

Loki looked at the boy on the verge of tears glued to his right leg. Then he looked at you on his left, fallen to your knees laughing. He was surrounded by idiots.

And loved them.

Loki smiled. "What can I say, brother? I have always been the charming one."

Tony sipped his whiskey straight from the bottle. Initially, he reached out for the glass, but decided otherwise as the conversation progressed.

"Did you destroy the building on the Fifth Avenue with your charms too?" was all he asked.

You leaned your head on Loki's leg, finally mastering yourself a little bit. "That's not fair, Tony. We wreak ONE building, entirely on accident, and you won't overlook it, but whenever you guys fight in a city, so much public and private property gets destroyed that the lawsuits-"

"That is not the point-"

"But it's still true!"

Natasha wished she had taken popcorn with her. Clint turned his hearing aid off and leaned his head on the back of the couch next to her.

Thor sighed.

"Asgard needs you, brother."

The room fell silent with the weight held in those words. Thor crossed his arms. Loki understood now that what he had initially taken for anger, was in fact weariness he could sense in Thor. Weariness and sadness.

"What happened?"

You stood up and took his hand. It was cold and tense, but he still requited your touch. His fingers clasped yours tightly.

Thor looked down at your intertwined hands, and at the boy still clutching Loki's leg.

"I'm glad you have found yourself a place here, brother, I really am, despite what you're probably thinking," he said. "But we need your assistance. Asgard's ambassador to the Realms of The Edge was brutally murdered two days ago, along with a noble born of the Edge. We're on the brink of war. The Edge requested investigation by one of us."

That was… quite a lot to process.

Loki looked at you. You looked at Loki. Peter tried his best to blend in with Loki's trousers and not be kicked out of the conversation.

You frowned at Thor. "But if it happened two days ago, what are you still doing here? Aren't you needed where it happened?"

Thor shifted uneasily. For the first time since they started talking, he looked uncomfortable and couldn't hold your gaze.

"I can't go there."

You waited for further explanation, but none came. Loki, on the other hand, didn't look surprised.

"My dearest brother was banned from the Edge a long time ago," he explained happily. "After a certain unfortunate incident, the lords of the Edge decided that he is no longer welcome there."

"Don't speak as if you weren't a part of the very same unfortunate incident, Loki."

"But I wasn't caught."

"And that's why you're going. Asgard doesn't have any other Princes to spare, however unlucky that is, and the lords still don't trust our father."

Loki opened his mouth to protest.

"Mother's already agreed," Thor added.

"Oh." Loki closed his mouth.

"Who's going to go with him then, if you can't?" you asked, concern written over your features.

"No one else from Asgard is allowed there. It took our father three thousand years to convince the lords of the Edge to agree to at least one ambassador. Our peoples have… a difficult history."

"Which basically means Asgard waged a bloody, unfair war against the Edge and destroyed half of their lands before it finally realized there was nothing of value on them," Loki explained. "It's only natural that the Edge wants as little to do with Asgardians as possible."

"Wait."

All eyes landed on you.

"So you're saying that you have to go there alone, without any help or assistance, to solve a murder and stop a war of vengeance completely on your own, among people who are already hostile and will probably try to finish what was started? Am I seeing things right or is this an actual joke, as lame and poor as I'd expect out of you, Thor?"

Thor, for his part, looked embarrassed. "It's not like we have any choice."

"Right, you don't," you nodded. "I'm going too."

The voices of protest were louder than you expected, but not as loud as the one voice that absolutely loved your idea.

Peter clutched Loki's leg even harder. "I want to go to space too! PLEASE!"

Tony put the bottle down. "Peter, you're fifteen and have homework. Wasn't that your own argument when I-"

"I also have hopes and dreams!"

"No. Your aunt would gut me and make herself and Pepper a bag out of my skin."

"It's going to be dangerous there. Next time, kid," Loki patted his head with surprising gentleness. He had grown attached to the boy, even before the boy had attached himself to Loki with the power of love, adoration, and his spidery stickiness.

Peter looked around the room. However confused, its inhabitants weren't protesting your candidature. "But if it's so dangerous, why are only the two of you going?"

"Because he's literally a god," you said and Loki nodded. "And I'm an asshole that's very hard to kill. Like a cockroach." Loki nodded again.

Peter was sad to realise the odds, but he didn't protest any further. He moved back onto his feet again and hugged Loki and you one last time.

"Just stay safe out there, okay? And if you ever need a Spider-Man, you know where to find me. Alone. Again."

"We're gonna be back before you notice," you ruffled his hair.

There was silence between Loki and you as you headed towards the room you’d been residing in for the few past weeks. It was not an uncomfortable silence, and certainly not one held in anger. It was a silence that always accompanied moments of unexpected change.

Loki beheld the room. He looked at his clothes laid on the floor and a chair. At one of his daggers left on the bedside table.

"Are you sure about going with me?" he asked.

You sat on the bed. "I've already told you that. I won't let you go there alone. From the sound of it, it's going to be dangerous."

"I don't want you to risk your life."

"And I want to protect yours," you shrugged. "I guess we're gonna have to work around that."

Loki smiled. "Thank you."

He found his enchanted bag pushed deep under the bed. There were a lot of things Loki had to pack, and was very grateful for the capacity of his own personal space pocket. He'd enchanted the bag back when he was just a kid, with a little help from his mother, and made sure to take it with him wherever he could. It was worn from frequent use, but still held strong.

Loki brushed the cracked leather. You put your own belongings next to him to pack.

Loki was still kneeling when he looked up at you, perched on the edge of the bed you'd shared for so long. His mouth went dry when he saw the casual confidence you held around him. All those weeks you'd had together, all those incidents and adventures, and all those faked proposals just for the sake of free cake…

There was something he just had to ask, had to know and hear, even when he had been hoping for it for a while now.

Hope. That's all he'd been reduced to.

There used to be days when he'd sneer on that thought. This was not one of them. Today it felt right.

"Would you…?"

You smiled at the god fallen to his knees, even as the air seemed to leave the room and tighten his throat.

"In this world and all the others, Loki."

He let his lips fall onto yours, gently and with care. Weeks ago, Loki might’ve said it was almost an accidental touch, just a brush really, a surprise for both parties. But things changed and so did he.

"I love you on purpose," he said, with hands cupping the face he could stare at for the rest of eternity. "And with the intent of loving you more with each day."

Silver lined your eyes, and a choked chuckle escaped you. "What's there not to love? I'm a delight."

Loki grinned. "Of course you are, darling."

A/N: This story finally hit 50k words and I'm so proud of myself! This is the longest fic I've ever worked on. 50k words and the first kiss... Does this still count as a slow-burn?? I'm sorry if the portrayal of some of the Avengers might feel off, I just needed someone to do the scolding part :P Please be merciful on me! I hope you enjoyed this chapter anyway, please tell me what do you think of the direction this story is taking!

#Please Hate Me #loki x reader #loki x you #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki #loki imagine #loki laufeyson #loki marvel #loki mcu #loki laufeyson imagine #marvel

176 notes · View notes

ggukcangetit · 4 years ago

Text

Dreamcatchers Chap 1

Pairing: jungkook x oc

Summary: DI Jeon didn’t need a new partner. Unfortunately, his superiors felt otherwise; especially considering the extremely high-profile murder that had just taken place in the port city. Recent transfer, DI Choi Yuri finds herself confronted with a new cityscape, unfamiliar people, a hostile partner, and a homicide that is certain to bring back unpleasant memories.

Genre/AU: fluff/action/mystery | detective! au | police!jungkook, police!oc

Word Count: 3.1k

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: mentions of violence, alcohol, blood, drugs, death. basically stuff you’d associate with a murder mystery/crime drama.

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Acknowledgement: shoutout to @stutterfly for designing this beautiful banner which i am completely in love with and stare at for no particular reason throughout the day

A/N: here’s the first chapter! i had originally planned on posting the entire story as one post but it’s way too long so i’m breaking it up into multiple chapters. the story features a named oc because i’m still very unfamiliar with writing second person reader inserts. i’m not aiming for strict accuracy in this story, and all criminal investigation/forensics knowledge i have has been gathered by watching crime drama/procedural dramas! my knowledge of geography is also not totally accurate so apologies for that. once again, one thing right by @hobios prompted me to write a police inspector! jungkook story. would highly recommend reading that because it’s probably one of my most favorite pieces of writing!

16th December

Mornings began early in the Yeongdo district of Busan. Yuri realised this on her first morning in town, as her fitful sleep was broken around 5 in the morning. Perhaps the quiet bustle at the crack of dawn shouldn’t have surprised her too much, given how this was primarily a seaside town with a small port. Her work did not require her to arrive before 8 am so she decided to talk a stroll around the town, acquaint herself with some of the shops and people, and perhaps even grab a bite to eat.

Yuri’s best friend from high school - Kim Ahreum, lived in this town, and this was one of the few reasons why Yuri hadn’t protested violently against her transfer. That, and she hadn’t been given much of a choice from her superiors. Ahreum had texted her excitedly about how beautiful the sea port of Yeongdo was - full of beautiful parks, quirky shops, exquisite food, and fascinating people. Coming from Seoul, Yuri wondered how difficult it would be for her to adjust to a world that sounded so different from the one she was coming from. Ahreum herself was a doctor in training, while her older brother - Namjoon, was in his final year of graduate school, just a few months away from his second law degree. Yuri didn’t remember much of Namjoon as he had left for college by the time she and Ahreum had become friends in their second year of high school. Her limited memory told her that he was very well read, quiet, and taller than the most other boys in school.

“Hey! I haven’t seen you around before.”

Yuri looked around for the owner of the voice - a little girl with two tight pigtails, a bright red dress, and a look of suspicion and curiosity lining her face. The woman beside her - presumably her mother - looked appalled at the little girl’s statement and shushed her before apologising to Yuri.

“I’m so sorry, miss,” she said, bowing deeply. “Nayeong here doesn’t really know how to talk to elders!”

“That’s alright,” replied Yuri, returning the bow. She squatted down in front of Nayeong and looked straight into her eyes. “Hello, my name is Choi Yuri. I moved here yesterday. It’s nice to meet you, and I hope we can be friends.”

The little girl seemed to hesitate in her desire to outcast this stranger who had seemingly no qualms about being truthful and friendly. Yuri could see the indecisiveness flitting through her features and decided to try a different tactic.

“I’m quite hungry but since I don’t know any of the shops over here, I was wondering if you could tell me where I could get some fresh bread and pastries.”

At these words, Nayeong’s eyes lit up and any indecision she previously held disappeared. She grabbed hold of Yuri’s hand and her mother’s, pulling them along in the direction of the town’s center. A few minutes later, they came to a halt outside a cozy looking shop.

“‘The Moon’s Post Office’?” Yuri read the sign out loud, intrigued by the name.

“Seokjin oppa makes the best pastries in the world! Eomma, tell her!” Nayeong exclaimed, looking at her mother excitedly.

“Alright, alright,” her mother laughed. “Yes, Nayeong is right. Seokjin does make incredible pastries, breads, and desserts. It’s almost impossible to stop this one from visiting the shop every day.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll just have to go in and find out. Would you like to join me, Nayeong?” asked Yuri. She glanced at the older woman once, to make sure this request wasn’t out of line.

“Can I, Eomma?” asked Nayeong, excitedly.

“Of course! It’s always a good thing to help others out.” Nayeong squealed happily at her mother’s response and rushed inside.

“I’m Lim Seora, it’s nice to meet you,” said the older woman, once her daughter was inside.

“Choi Yuri,” Yuri responded, bowing deeply. “Thank you for accompanying me here.”

Once inside, Yuri felt her senses getting assaulted by a plethora of soft, sweet, refreshing smells. Nayeong was already at the counter, talking to someone about the different things she wanted. Yuri felt her throat go dry as she glanced at the person behind the counter. She had rarely seen anyone as handsome as the young man currently talking to Nayeong. His thick black hair kept falling over his forehead which he tried to remove with a gentle shake of his head, his plump pink lips pressed together in amusement as an oversized black and red cardigan hung off his rather broad shoulders.

“So that’s three blueberry scones, one orange muffin, and a bag of peanut butter cookies?” asked the young man, to which Nayeong nodded enthusiastically.

“Anything else?” he asked.

“I’ve brought a friend with me today. She’s hungry so can you make something tasty for her, Oppa?” responded Nayeong, pulling Yuri forward.

“Is that right? Hello, I don’t think we’ve met,” he said with a soft smile. “Kim Seokjin, I run this bakery.”

“Nice to meet you,” replied Yuri, bowing in greeting. “I’m Choi Yuri, I moved here yesterday.”

“Nice to meet you too! May I recommend the Snow Croissant?” said Seokjin, sweeping his hand dramatically over the display case.

“The ‘Snow Croissant’? What’s that?” asked Yuri, chuckling at his enthusiasm.

“It’s my take on the New Orleans Beignet and the French Croissant,” he replied, bringing out a golden flaky croissant dusted with powdered sugar.

Yuri took a bite of the pastry and gasped in surprise. The light crunch of the savoury croissant blended beautifully with the soft sweetness of the sugar dust, along with-

“A hint of lemon?” wondered Yuri, biting into the pastry absentmindedly.

“That’s fantastic! Not many people have been able to detect the subtle lemon flavour infused into the pastry dough,” replied Seokjin, looking extremely pleased. “Would you like anything else?”

“A coffee, please,” said Yuri, throwing the paper plate into the nearby dustbin. “To-go. And how much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house,” replied Seokjin, with a wink. “Consider it a welcome present. Hope to see you around!”

“Oh…” Yuri flushed slightly at his generosity, but accepted it nonetheless. The clock inside the bakery chimed seven times, indicating that she had spent close to an hour with her new acquaintances.

“I should get going,” she said, taking the coffee cup from the counter. “Don’t want to be late on my first day of work. It was nice meeting you all. I hope we meet again, Nayeong!”

xxx

“You can’t be serious! Why the hell are you doing this?!”

Chief Inspector Goh pinched the bridge of his nose as he watched one of his best officers fly off the handle. 3 years into the force Detective Inspector Jeon had proven himself to be smart, capable, and extremely reliable. The only problem was a recent case which had slowly come to take over his life. Which was why, when Chief Inspector Goh had called him into the office to tell him that they were closing the case, DI Jeon had taken it a little too hard.

“Jeon, you are, first and foremost, a homicide detective. Granted that this disappearance was linked to a homicide you were investigating, but you need to let it go. There are other, more pressing, cases that require your attention. We need you back on the force full time. Let Lee handle the disappearance - it's his department. For now, I’m assigning you a new partner to work with. Especially-”

A knock on the door interrupted Chief Inspector Goh, followed by the entrance of an unfamiliar face.

“Right on time! That’s the kind of dedication we’re looking for over here,” said Goh with an appreciative nod. “Jeon, meet your new partner - Detective Inspector Choi Yuri. She’s just transferred here from Seoul. DI Choi, this is Detective Inspector Jeon Jeongguk - he’s one of our best men.”

DI Jeon scowled as he surveyed his new partner. She was tall, dressed in a plain shirt and slacks, her short hair tucked behind her ears. She gave him a small smile and bowed in greeting. In response, DI Jeon stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

“I apologise on behalf of him,” said Chief Inspector Goh. “He isn’t usually this impolite. Really glad to have you join our team, DI Choi. You’ve had quite a number of impressive cases in Seoul, and we hope that you can continue working hard with all of us here.”

“Thank you, Chief Inspector. I will do my best,” said Yuri, with a small smile.

“Glad to hear that. Now,” he said, pulling out a thin case file from under a large stack of paperwork. “I need the two of you to head over to Manor House right now. Some officers are already at the scene, along with the forensics team. The body was found early this morning.”

“Have they identified the victim?” asked Yuri, checking how far Manor House was on her phone.

“Hmm. Kang Eunwoo, son of Kang Kiwoo, who owns the largest chain of hotels in Busan. So you can understand the situation.”

Yuri gulped softly, tucking her phone away and nodding her head slowly.

xxx

The entire ride to the crime scene was silent. Not the pleasant or comfortable kind of silence Yuri had always preferred over meaningless small talk. No, this was the stiff, suffocating silence that made her want to pitch herself out the car window. She was currently regretting not having driven to work - although she was still a bit exhausted from the nearly 5 hour drive from Seoul the previous night.

She didn’t know what to make of her new partner. When she was working in Seoul, her partner had been a 43 year old woman named Hwayoung. She was separated from her husband with whom she shared joint custody of their three kids, only drank low sugar milk tea, and talked a mile a minute while on the job. Some might have found Hwayoung a tad irritating, but Yuri had found a caring older sister in the ruthless and chaotic world of criminal investigation in the country’s capital. DI Jeon, in comparison, had yet to speak a word to her. The couple of routine questions she had asked him about the exact location and identity of the victim were met with heated silence.

The Kangs were incredibly wealthy - the type that could buy your family business in an instant and then gift it back to you without incurring any loss. The lavish mansion reeked of money, luxury, and carelessness that only accompanied an abundance of liquid cash. The victim had been found in the private meeting room on the ground floor. Being an extremely high profile case, there were already reporters trying to get a good picture from outside the mansion itself.

“Cause of death?” asked DI Jeon, kneeling down to get a better look at the body.

“Blunt force trauma to the back of the head. Death would’ve been instantaneous,” said the forensic doctor, removing her gloves and stuffing them into her coat pocket. She turned towards Yuri and gave her a small smile. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Dr. Ahn Seulgi. I head the forensics team at the precinct.”

“Choi Yuri,” replied Yuri, bowing slightly. “I’m DI Jeon’s new partner.”

“Is today your first day at work?” asked Seulgi, with a surprised expression.

“Yeah, I just got transferred from Se-”

“DI Choi, need I remind you that there’s a body lying here?” snapped DI Jeon. “It would be better if you socialize on your own time.”

Yuri was taken aback by the anger in his tone. Even though she had worked in homicide for nearly 5 years now, her colleagues had always been polite and friendly with her. She didn’t really know how to respond to her new partner’s accusations.

“Calm down, DI Jeon,” said Seulgi, a frown settling on her forehead. “This isn’t socializing - we’re coworkers and it's impolite to not introduce yourself to each other.”

DI Jeon didn’t say anything more after that, but Yuri could feel the anger radiating off him. She was grateful to Seulgi for sticking up for her, but it didn’t look like she was going to have an easy time working with Jeon.

“Detective Inspector,” said another officer, approaching DI Jeon with a notepad. “I’ve just spoken to the staff. It seems there was a big party here last night. The victim had invited around 10-12 of his friends and they stayed till just before midnight.”

“Thanks, Jisoo. Ask Suho to get statements from all those who were present at the party last night. As well as where they went afterwards.”

“I will,” replied Jisoo, with a nod. “Mr. Kang is waiting for you in his office.”

Kang Kiwoo didn’t look like a seasoned businessman who had a 26 year old son. His face was young and his smile was extremely attractive, but, Yuri noticed, it didn’t reach his eyes. In fact, there was something inscrutable in his dark brown irises that disturbed her more than she liked to admit. Yuri had come to realise that a person’s eyes were the first to betray their true nature; and Mr. Kang’s eyes were almost vacant.

“My condolences, Mr. Kang,” began DI Jeon. “Please rest assured that we will do everything in our power to catch whoever is responsible for this.”

“Thank you, DI Jeon,” replied Mr. Kang with a smile. “I’m feeling reassured knowing that you are handling my son’s case. And you are?”

Yuri bowed once again and introduced herself. “DI Choi Yuri. I will also be working on your son’s case with DI Jeon.”

“Well then, how can I be of assistance? DI Jeon? DI Choi?”

“Could you please tell us more about the party that took place last night?” asked DI Jeon, not giving Yuri a chance to say anything. He had already sat down on one of the chairs, and Yuri decided that she would rather remain standing.

Mr. Kang frowned for the first time since the beginning of the meeting. “My son likes to- I’m sorry. Eunwoo liked to party quite a lot. I wasn’t fond of his lifestyle and I had told him of my views many times before. This isn’t the first time that he’s taken over an entire floor of our mansion to ‘entertain’ his friends.”

“You argued with your son last night,” continued DI Jeon, consulting the notes Jisoo had given him. “What was that about?”

“If you know that we argued, I’m sure you know what we argued about.”

“In your own words, if you will,” said DI Jeon, a forced smile gracing his features.

“I lost the use of my legs almost 3 years ago,” said Mr. Kang, leaning forward on his desk. “I expected my son to take over the company by the time he was 28. However, he didn’t seem in the least bit inclined to take any responsibility whatsoever. So last night, I told him I would disinherit him.”

“And how did he take that news?”

“I’m quite certain you’re not asking me to elaborate on the type of language my son used last night,” said Mr. Kang, with a slight smirk. “Because I’d prefer not to.”

DI Jeon stared at the man across from him who was proving to be much more difficult than expected. “Can you tell us what your movements were for the rest of the night?”

“I was in here, finishing some paperwork, until the party got over. I said goodnight to my son and retired for the night at around half past 12.”

“How did your son seem when you last saw him?”

“He was quite inebriated. I barely got a coherent reply from him. In hindsight, I should have stayed with him until he had fallen asleep. Maybe I could have prevented his death.”

“Why do you say that?” Yuri asked, speaking for the first time since introducing herself. DI Jeon shot her a glare before returning his gaze to Mr. Kang.

“If I had been with him until he fell asleep, he wouldn’t have gotten into a fight with the Park boy.”

“The ‘Park boy’?” asked Yuri, frowning slightly.

“Park Jimin. He came here last night. I heard his voice just before I closed the door to my room.”

“Are you saying Park Jimin killed your son?” asked DI Jeon. “Do you have any proof, Mr. Kang?”

“It is your job to find proof, DI Jeon. I’m merely stating what I know. The Parks are our long time rivals; I’m sure you’re aware of that. My son never got along particularly well with Park Jimin since they were in school. As far as I can tell, he was probably the last one to see my son alive.”

xxx

Yuri was currently at Ahreum’s apartment, having dinner in honor of her moving to Busan.

“I had such grand plans of taking you to the street food market on your first day here,” whined Ahreum. “But given how completely exhausted you look, this is the best alternative.”

“This is great, Ahreum. I haven’t soba noodles in such a long time. You’re actually a pretty decent cook.” Yuri grinned at her best friend, before slurping some noodles.

“I still can’t believe that a high profile murder took place the day you moved here. You really can’t catch a break, can you?” Ahreum sipped on her wine, while scrolling through her phone. “Social media is blowing up with this.”

“I’m just glad I could leave in time for dinner. The way Jeon was treating me, I thought he would make me file paperwork at the station the entire night.”

“I don’t really get that. Jeongguk’s a pretty decent guy. Why’s he being such a dick to you?” Ahreum asked, tying her long brown curls into a bun. “Namjoon’s known him since before I moved here. He only has good things to say about him.”

“Beats me,” shrugged Yuri. “But more importantly, where is Namjoon? I thought he’d be joining us for dinner today.”

“He’s still at the library.”

“It’s almost 11 pm.”

“Yeah, the library closes at midnight. He’ll probably come home after that.” Ahreum stretched her hands above her head before stifling a yawn. “He runs on very little sleep anyway.”

“Nice to see that hasn’t changed since I last saw him,” grinned Yuri, slipping on her shoes and getting ready to leave. “Thanks for dinner, Ahreum. I really needed this today.”

“Oh shut up! You know I’m always ready to feed you!” she replied with a wink. “Now go home and get some sleep.”

Sleep. That was the problem.

xxx

hope you enjoyed the first chapter! feel free to send me an ask if you have any questions so far. and don’t forget to like/reblog if you enjoyed the chapter!

#jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook x oc #jimin #taehyung #seokjin #namjoon #yoongi #hoseok #bts fic #c me write bangtan #btsbookclub

206 notes · View notes

fallout-drabbles-n-stuff · 4 years ago

Text

(Romanced) Companions baby-sitting Shaun for the first time.

(They didn't really have to be romanced for this one but it just seemed like a nice sentiment.)

Cait:

She really doesn’t mean anything by it, but the first time you leave her and Shaun alone she is fantastically scared. Be it because shaun is a synth or just because the weight of the responsibility suddenly sits on her shoulders. She quickly realizes that this alone time with Shaun is very valuable though. A piece of her even becomes strangely sympathetic, realizing the kid probably just wanted to have a complete family with his mommy/daddy and her. So before she even knows what’s going on, she finds herself playing in the makeshift backyard outside your house with Shaun and dog meat, finding true happiness.

Curie:

Curie is automatically elated at even the thought getting to spend some quality time with the boy. Though she was careful, she considered Shaun her son from the moment you introduced him to her. Let’s be honest, Curie is a natural at taking care of the boy. Probably the best to be honest. They have a really good time, playing an old blast radius board game you found and so on. Shaun can’t help but behave with her too, even going to bed with no fuss the second the little synth mentions bed time. Overall him and Curie go together really well, alleviating any past apprehensions you may have had about leaving him with the scientist.

Danse:

The notion of being left alone with his adopted son scared Danse more than anything. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to bond with the child, after all Danse was rather quick to consider him his own, his anxiety was more or less caused by the fear of screwing up something. Yeah, he has interacted with the squires on the airship before but none of them were his. What if he runs out of things to talk about? What if Shaun starts misbehaving? God forbid Shaun somehow got hurt, what the hell was he doing to do? Sure he knew how to dress wounds and such but admitting something like that happened under his watch? The thought made the Paladin want to tear his hair out. Much to Danse’s relief, his fears were for naught. Shaun really likes danse, asking his new father all about his power armor and his laser rifles and..well, anything the young boy could think of. This made Danse very happy. By the time you got home, Danse was in the garage with the young boy- teaching him all about how to repair lord knows what and getting Shaun to hand him tools as he demonstrated.

Deacon:

Surprising both himself and you, him and Shaun quickly become besties in their bonding time. Being left alone with the spy was actually really good for Shaun, and Deacon. Though he wouldn’t admit it, Deacon was scared to get too attached to your son, scared to accept him as his own but now? He couldn’t imagine it any other way. They played hide and seek, pulled some tasteful pranks on poor unsuspecting settlers and over all just had a really good time.

Gage:

In all honesty, Gage was scared shitless. If not for the strangeness or taking care of a child for the first time in his life, it was also the vulnerability of being left alone for the kid to judge him. Without you there as a buffer...Surely his adoptive son couldn’t think too highly of his “pa” being a raider..could he? The thought of him disapproving of gage made the old raider hurt in a way he both didn’t like nor think he was capable of hurting. So because of this, Gage is pretty grumpy at first, rather to stay at an arms distance. However it only takes an hour or so of shaun’s wide puppy eyes, much like his parent’s, for gage to fall weak. After this, good luck finding either one of them because Gage is totally taking Shaun around the park to ride some of the rides.

Hancock:

In theory, Hancock thought it would be super easy..and well, it kind of was. Though he didn’t have much experience with taking care of young kids, he was still compassionate and at the very least- entertaining. This definitely worked in Hancock’s favor the first time he babysits the newest addition to your little family. Figuring it would be a good pass time, he takes Shaun around his city, making sure to acquaint him with all the “upstanding” citizens so they all know not to fuck with the kid. His kid. Needless to say, everyone quickly loves Shaun.

Macready:

He wasn’t that perturbed, more or less just wondering how in the world he was going to manage to watch both Shaun and Duncan without them teaming up and pulling one over on him. His fears were perfectly justified though, seeing as when you came home you found both the little boys laughing as Macready frantically tried to clean up an absolutely wrecked house.

Yes, they both got into some serious trouble. Macready never wants to be left without backup ever again.

Maxson:

(Just assuming he doesn't know he's a synth/ maybe a slight canon divergence? Like maybe Shaun actually ends up being Shaun and father is someone else?? I don't know..because it wouldn't go over smoothly if shaun was a synth no matter what.)

He's pretty good at this whole babysitting thing, remembering the many people who took care of him and what their were methods with crystal clarity. Granted, his previous caretakers were all soldiers. However, even though Shaun isn't technically his blood and doesn't have his last name, he is your son and that was good enough for Arthur. Plus, he figured it would be good practice for whenever you and him managed to finally make heirs. Seeing as Maxson wanted to do his best to acclimate Shaun into the brotherhood way of life, he'd take the precious bonding opportunity quite enthusiastically. It went beyond him just wanting Shaun to know his organization better though, truthfully, Arthur wanted to impress the young boy. Even more than that, Maxson wanted to let Shaun know that no matter what, he'd be there to protect him. That all being said, Arthur is still pretty awkward, not wanting to mess it up. He really tries though, taking Shaun around the airship, familiarizing the boy with his new family, answering any questions he may have about basically anything,

What he doesn't know is Shaun is impressed with him already, not because he is the leader of some crazy metal loving army.

As soon as Shaun makes that clear though, you can expect to come home to a teary eyed Maxson hugging a confused, but happy Shaun. Later on when the child's asleep, Arthur even slips up and begins referring to him as his own son...which makes you very happy.

Nick:

Deciding it would be for the best, he takes the synth boy to the agency- getting a little help from ellie. However he takes his duty very seriously, keeping his synthetic eyes practically glued on his boy. That being said, Shaun behaves especially well for the old detective, spinning around in one of the office chairs as his adoptive dad sorts out some old case files.

Old longfellow:

He was a little apprehensive at first but he knew that the time was bound to come. Luckily he already has an entire day planned out for him and his “son”. Much to shaun’s delight, Longfellow brings him out to the water and teaches him how to fish. The two of them don’t catch anything for a while, more so just enjoying each other’s company and chatting away. However Longfellow couldn’t help but be proud when Shaun caught some fish, far too small to eat but that didn’t matter. He was still so proud. To celebrate, he even gave the young boy a beer with a wink and a “don’t tell yer mom/dad.”.

Piper:

Much like Mac, Piper had both the disadvantage and advantage of also having another child under your roof. Though Nat wasn’t her child, she always cared for her little sister like she was so Piper didn’t exactly fear having to care for a kid. Unlike Mac, the additional kid in her care wasn’t mischievous. So, as much as she hate to admit it, Nat was the one that kept Shaun in line, all while Piper tentatively kept a watchful gaze on the two.

Preston:

Thanks to occasionally taking care of exhausted settler’s children, Preston wasn’t entirely in the dark when it came to taking care of Shaun. Sure, the first time being left alone with his “son” still made him a little nervous..but he’d do anything to make the boy happy. With that being said, providing it’s a chilly night, he’ll build a fire and tell Shaun all kinds of lovely campfire stories and roast some s’mores.

X6-88:

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that him and Shaun get along swimmingly, having known each other before you even found your son. So, X6 was a natural at caring for Shaun, with or without you present. Plus Shaun knows better than to act up with him, as well as they get along, x6 has none of it. Nonetheless, they are so totally partners in crime. Much to your surprise, you’ll likely come home to find the evidence of what appears to be a massive prank war. Shaun passed out on the couch with shaving cream on his face and X6 with mysteriously fuchsia hair.

#fallout #fo4 companions #fallout companions #fallout 4 #paladin danse #curie #danse #macready #porter gage #shaun #synth shaun #elder maxson

78 notes · View notes

gellavonhamster · 4 years ago

Text

herr lucifer, beware, beware

Dracula x Carmilla crossover || Lucy Westenra & (/?) Carmilla Karnstein

ao3 link eng || ao3 link rus

Out of the ash

I rise with my red hair

And I eat men like air.

– Sylvia Plath, Lady Lazarus

Lucy dyes her hair for the first time in her life already after her death.

Twilight reigns in the room, where the air smells of perfume and mustiness; all windows are curtained, and the only light is coming from some thoroughly melted candles. This, however, causes difficulty neither for Lucy, as lately she has no trouble seeing in the dark, nor for her new acquaintance who has armed herself with a thick brush and is presently putting dye on Lucy’s hair. The flame of the candle standing on the table in front of Lucy keeps trembling nervously. A drop of dye falls on the bed sheet that Lucy is draped in as if in another shroud.

“It’s green,” Lucy murmurs as she casts a glance at the swamp-coloured stain on her knees. In truth, she does not care much about the future colour of her hair – it is no longer possible for her to go for a stroll in daylight anyway.

“That is just for now. On your hair, it will look red,” assures her Carmilla. That was how she introduced herself: “Call me Carmilla. This one is my favourite name.” It was her idea to dye Lucy’s hair. “It’s a small town, darling. You don’t need to be recognized. It’s enough that this much people are aware that you do not rest in peace.” ‘This much’ means her Arthur and Professor Van Helsing and Dr. Seward and Mr. Morris. Lucy watched them from behind the wall of someone’s moss-covered crypt while Carmilla – back then she didn’t know her name yet – was covering Lucy’s mouth with her hand and whispering in her ear: “See what they brought with them? They came to murder you. Forget what they meant to you, for they have ceased caring what you meant to them.” Lucy struggled to break away but couldn’t, because Carmilla, petite and delicate and outwardly not older than she, was as strong as five adult men – neither could she not look at the sharp wooden stake in Arthur’s hands. Then she let Carmilla lead her away from the graveyard, and left Arthur and the others by the crypt, possibly to wait for her until morning.

“It smells like grass,” Lucy observes. The dye smells of grass indeed and, ever so slightly, of cucumbers, for some reason.

“It’s henna, my dear. It’s made from dried leaves.” After the final dab, Carmilla throws the brush into a basin, pulls the bed sheet off Lucy, tears off a piece of fabric with ease, and wraps it around Lucy’s hair. “Now you have to wait for about two hours, and then wash your hair.”

It appears that Carmilla finds it all amusing – dyeing Lucy’s hair, picking out her own dresses to give her. Lucy follows her instructions almost mechanically, without much thought. The world around her is now far too full of sounds and smells and colours, much more than it used to be, and her new life is far too full of rules she doesn’t understand properly yet and finds perplexing. Therefore, if Carmilla needs her in order to stave off boredom, then she needs Carmilla in order to learn to navigate this new world without dying for the second time. Besides, she is all but constantly starving, and Carmilla is a much more experienced huntress than she, and doesn’t mind sharing, seeing as she doesn’t waste time on small children, and adults have plenty of blood to spare to satiate the two of them.

There is never any blood left for the ones they suck it from, though – unlike Lucy, Carmilla doesn’t let her prey walk away.

“It is high time for us, child, to discuss what we are going to do next,” says Carmilla, as if having sensed that Lucy is pondering over the reasons why she needs Carmilla and Carmilla needs her. She sits down on the edge of the table, and looks at Lucy downwards. In the dusk, her eyes shine like those of a cat. “What do you remember about the one who granted you eternal life?”

What does she remember about the one who killed her?

“Not much,” Lucy says tentatively. Strange as it may be, these memories are clearer now than they were back when she was alive, but still fairly vague, still seeming as much of a nightmare as before. “He was tall, with long dark hair, with a sharp nose. With a dark moustache. With a… cruel face. I don’t know who he was and where he came from – I’ve never seen him in Whitby before.”

“I know who he was,” says Carmilla. Her face, usually so sweet and gentle even as she drinks the blood of another victim, looks just as cruel now. “Vlad Dracula, a Transilvanian count.”

“Are you acquainted?”

“Not in person,” Carmilla looks away. She still looks angry, but aside from hate, a certain suppressed pain is discernible in her countenance. “He took something from me.”

“Took something?” Lucy echoes.

Carmilla gets up, approaches her from behind, and puts her hands on Lucy’s shoulders.

“Have you ever been in love, darling?” she asks. Her dainty hands stroke Lucy’s shoulders through the thin silk of the dressing gown.

Lucy thinks of Arthur – but she is no longer able to think of him the way she used to when she was alive. She is drawn to him as strongly as never before – but at the same time she is also drawn to her other two suitors, whom she only used to fantasise about briefly and lightly, and she cannot figure out what part of this attraction is love, and what is hunger. She thinks of Arthur’s slender neck, of blue lines on Dr. Seward’s pale wrists, of the outlines of veins on Mr. Morris’s strong arms. Of Mina in her bed, blanket thrown off in her sleep, throat bared to the July night. Of their blood that calls to her more vehemently than the dreams of kisses and embraces – although of those as well.

“Yes,” she replies. If there is one thing she is sure of, it is that she has been in love.

“So have I,” Carmilla tells her quietly. Her hands stop moving.

“What was his name?”

“Her name is not important,” and Lucy feels, inexplicably, a strange joy upon hearing how calmly Carmilla pronounces that ‘her’. She pictures Mina again – Mina, who probably has no idea that her Lucy is gone. “What is important is that she was special. Against my nature I knew that I would not deal with her the same way as with all my previous lovers. I wanted to make it so that we would always be together. To make her the same as me and you. She knew what I was, and agreed to my proposal, just asked me to give her time to settle some affairs she was to leave in the past. That’s how special she was.” Suddenly, Carmilla’s nails sink into her shoulders. “Then he came.”

“What happened next?” Lucy asks. It hurts, but not too much – her reborn body is far tougher than before. She can bear it for a while if it helps her find out what Carmilla wants from her after all. “He bit her first, didn’t he?”

Carmilla snorts with disdain.

“No. What would that have changed? What would have a man’s bite meant against mine? No, he just drank her dry. All to the last drop. When I found her, she was already dead. Not dead like us, my dear – completely dead.”

So that’s it.

“You want revenge,” Lucy says. Carmilla loosens her grip a little, and bends down so that her cheek is touching Lucy’s.

“Do you not?” she enquires.

Lucy thinks of Arthur – of the sharpened stake in his hands, of the wedding they didn’t get to have. Of her mother, dead with a mask of horror on her face. Of herself, a carefree and happy girl that exists no more.

She enjoys wandering at night, but she used to love the sun.

“Probably,” she admits gingerly. Carmilla puts her chin on Lucy’s shoulder.

“Then,” she says with satisfaction, “come to London with me.”

The next couple of hours they spend preparing for the journey – packing dresses and shoes, undergarments and toiletries. In the process, Carmilla enlightens Lucy on the subject of the enemy they are going to face. According to her, he’s not just a vampire – he’s also a sorcerer, and thus more powerful and dangerous by a long way.

“How will we beat him then?” Lucy cannot help wondering. Carmilla shrugs.

“By the power of grief and rage, love and loss,” she says. “Also, we’ll catch him by surprise. He doesn’t expect you to come for him, all the more not me. Men like him have a short memory.”

Already towards morning, Lucy bends over the bathtub and washes off the henna. Examining the strands of her wet hair in the candlelight, she sees that they are red.

“I have learned to do without mirrors a long time ago,” remarks Carmilla, hugging her around the waist. “But sometimes one cannot help missing them. Let me assure you, darling, that this colour looks good on you.”

Red like dried blood – her own blood spilled by Dracula, his blood that will get spilled when she and Carmilla get him, the blood of Arthur and Mina and Dr. Seward and Mr. Morris who – somehow it feels so easy to believe it right now – will all be with her sooner or later.

Lucy smiles.

“That’s what I thought,” she says.

#lucy westenra #carmilla #dracula #bram stoker #joseph sheridan le fanu #lumina #my fic #gella talks dracula #talk talk talk #the last hurrah before plunging back into the abyss of work and hate

17 notes · View notes

jasxier · 4 years ago

Text

“Like Old Times”

So, it’s on, guys! The first part is mostly me trying to get the hang of the whole writing thing. Hopefully the next parts will be better. Summary: After parting ways with his travel companion and spending three years on the road travelling alone, Geralt has a late night visitor. PART I

"You came back." Came a low whisper from behind him. Jaskier recognized the voice, he would recognize it in pitch black, he would recognize it among million other voices, it was the sound of long night babbling about nothing and everything, the sound that would kept him out of trouble, the sound of comforting after getting in said trouble.

And, oh boy, he was. He was in trouble. If the word also means being in love with your friend, then he had brought a calamity upon himself.

He turned on his heels, the floor creaked under his feet and the sound echoed within the walls and in his ears and back again. The door of the candle lit room was open and the outline of a (oh so very) familiar shape was standing under the frame.

A particularly low hum was emerging from the first floor of the inn. The few remaining patrons were probably still discussing about the Witcher who, a few minutes earlier, had kicked the front door open, covered in blood and snowflakes and something unidentified, two very scary looking swords hanging from a leather strap attached on his back, armor almost ripped in pieces, interrupting their nightly ritual consisting mostly of drowning their anxieties and sorrows in cheap beer. Unbothered by their stares and judging murmurs, the Witcher had climbed the stairs leading to the rented rooms, navigating effortlessly through the dark aisle, opened the door to his chamber only to find it occupied.

"You came back" the Witcher repeated, his doubt visible, eyes wide as he was taking in the sight in front of him. It couldn't really be Jaskier. He was hallucinating, he was sure of it.

"Look at you." Jaskier let an almost desperate sigh and stepped closer to the Witcher, examining his ruined armor, looking for any sign of damage on the other man's skin. The sight never failed to make his heart pound in his chest and cold sweat break out on his face.

He haven't seen the Witcher in three years. He haven't listened to his barytone voice, a voice that could easily break every single bone of his body and Jaskier would be happy to endure the sweet suffering. But the feelings had remained the same as before. Feelings that Jaskier had tried to put into words, had tried to communicate them to his Witcher but his efforts were proven fruitless.

The Witcher let the man remove his armor, shredded piece by shredded piece landing on the floor as if it was hanging by a single strand of spider web. Soft ghostly fingertips hesitatingly touching the fabric of his shirt.

"Yeah, we need to remove that" Jaskier gestured at the shirt "and your trousers as well" he paused and laid his eyes on the Witcher's face with a smirk painted on his lips. He was avoiding the Witcher's eyes, he knew, he fucking knew that the moment he would let his own fall in the honey trap, like a bee longing for sweetness, it'd be the end of him.

Oh, to perish in honey. Suffocating. Sticking. Sinking.

Sinking.

He needed to focus. "Not to sound rude or anything but I knew you had arrived just by the smell" he chuckled "You need a fucking bath, Geralt" and Geralt nodded in agreement. He couldn't ignore the annoyingly pleasant feeling creeping in his lower abdomen after hearing his own name wrapped in glittering veil binded with satin colorful ribbons which was Jaskier's voice.

He was watching the younger man as he carried himself next to the window observing the snow falling quietly on the ground outside, flickering as the moonlight was caught on the white patches already forming on the street. A stillness filled the night as it always does when it's snowing.

Jaskier turned his back on the Witcher, granting him some privacy as he shucked off his clothes.

It was not that Jaskier hadn't see him naked before, he had, countless blessed times but that was before they had parted ways after that dreadful day on that dreadful mountain three years ago.

Geralt had thought he'll never see his friend again, not after the cruel words he had spat out on him. Words that were haunting him ever since, words that he wished he never have said.

But he had.

So why did he open the door to what he thought was an empty room, why did he settle in for a night he had thought would be one more lonely night to add to the ever growing pile of lonely nights he had spent after that day, only to find himself staring at his bard, at his friend, at his Jaskier.

Why was Jaskier back?

"I broke in, you know" Jaskier announced in a humorous tone and pride filled his lungs still looking out the window. He was proud. Proud that his heart was often the one making decisions, never paying attention to what his mind was yelling at it. Always a battle between the two. Always ending in pain and a heart shattered. But he was proud. Because his shattered heart was screaming louder than other carefully mended hearts. His heart was singing louder songs about heartbreak,

for the last three years.

"I can see that" came the reply from the Witcher who had somehow managed to get rid of his filthy clothes without losing sight of his late night visitor.

Jaskier had changed.

He still look fairly young, mind you. The youthfulness never seem to abandon the man. His hair was covering his temple, as it always did. It looked soft. The bard was always looking after himself. A delicate wave of strands was gently stroking his eyebrow. Eyes, ever so bright and blue, looking almost transparent under the dim light of the candles and the white snowy veil reflected on the glass beside him. A mixture that made his skin glowing like he had emerged from a dream, Geralt's dream.

But Jaskier had changed.

He looked tired. Well, more tired than Geralt was comfortable with. He didn't like the idea of Jaskier being tired, or Jaskier being sad, or Jaskier being different.

Geralt stepped towards the bathtub, Jaskier had been busy filling it up with warm water while the Witcher was out dealing with tonight's monster. He stepped in. The water had gone cold by now but he didn't mind.

"Hm, i was waiting for a biiit more enthusiasm, to be fairly honest" Jaskier crossed his arms above his chest "Are you not impressed?" he looked down at the Witcher who was now gratefully sunk into the water, rubbing the blood stains off his pale skin, letting the relaxing qualities of the water benefit his sore body.

Geralt paused as he lifted his head, finally locked eyes with his (now former) bard. Jaskier's toothy grin was there to remind him how much he had fucking missed him. He had missed his ever babbling, ever singing, ever playing that damn lute travelling companion. But he would never admit it to anyone, not even to himself.

"How the fuck did you find me, Jaskier?"

"Well, it was not an easy task, I must say" a hand was drawing abstract lines on the air as he continued talking "followed the traces - bloody traces mostly - of death and destiny, heroics and heartbreak" he paused, grin never leaving his face.

"Onion" Geralt corrected the bard smiling to himself. OH Gods, he missed this.

"Ahaa, no, Geralt! That's not how-" well it wasn't entirely a lie. "Truth is I asked around, gathered some information, you know, my acquaintances were more than willing to help me with that, I obviously don't mean that I had to use my charm in my favour, or seduce them to the point where I had access to their house and bedroom and private documents as long as other private -"

"Jaskier!" Geralt growled but Jaskier was sure he saw his lips curling in a smirk.

"Oh, right, sorry!" he tried his best to look innocent but that look had never worked on the Witcher and it didn't work now. "As I was saying" he approached the bathtub, kneeling in front of Geralt, arms resting folded on the sides of the tub "I had a hard time trying to get to you, old friend" his voice lowered.

"It didn't sound like you did" Geralt followed Jaskier's gaze as he tried to ignore the 'old friend' part . Is that what Geralt was to Jaskier now? It would only make sense after what happened between the two. But Geralt didn't want to believe it. He had gone to great lengths to find him, really, he had tried to reach him, he was getting close to him and every time Jaskier was slipping out of his grasp like a soap, a sweet scented soap, at the last moment.

Like he didn't want to be found. Like he was hiding. But no, he was standing right there, right beside him and Geralt would have sworn that he's dreaming.

But the cold water stung his skin was purely a proof that he wasn't. Jaskier was there.

Like old times. PART II

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #my fic #this is so embarassing for some reason #they haven't even got to the sweet stuff #why am i shy all of a sudden #that's not gonna work #gotta wait for ao3 t get its shit together

57 notes · View notes

raywritesthings · 4 years ago

Text

Bird in a Storm 14/17

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Tommy Merlyn, John Diggle, Athena, Moira Queen, Thea Queen, Frank Chen Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: The confrontation between the Hood and SWAT on the roof of the Winick Building goes differently, altering the course of Laurel’s career, relationships and efforts to save her city forever, the shockwaves of such an altered path making themselves felt throughout her family and friends. *Can be read on my AO3, link is in bio*

Her first foray on the bike was going pretty well, in her personal opinion. It wasn’t like she had never ridden one, of course. Under her dad’s supervision, she’d been on the back of one of the police-issue motorcycles a few times and even shown the different controls. Ollie had always liked his bikes as well, and Laurel had refused to act the nervous girlfriend about it; part of why he and Tommy had always liked hanging around her had been her relative willingness to go along with their various misadventures to a point. She’d stopped short of anything that would have seen her in front of a judge.

Though if Oliver or Tommy could see her now, risking arrest night after night… she didn’t know how they could all be in the same city and yet feel further apart than ever most days. Even if a lot of that was her own fault.

She knew John Diggle was right. Oliver was likely to find out the truth of what she was up to these days, if only by running into her out on the streets some night. Wouldn’t it be better for the truth to just come from her?

But there was every chance it wouldn’t be better, that Oliver would react badly either way. He still blamed himself for all the crazy turns her life had taken this year. Laurel wasn’t sure if she could make him understand that this wasn’t the rock bottom of some downward spiral. If anything, this was a newfound sense of purpose and, strangely, of inner peace after being frozen in place for the last five years.

Did she have regrets? Of course. She wished she’d never agreed to date Tommy and broken his heart; she wished her job and the jobs of countless others actually paid a decent wage; she wished with all her heart that Sara could’ve been the girl in the Rockets cap her mother had been so desperate to find. But losing nearly everything had forced her to look at things from another point of view.

No longer was she the charitable helper from on high, enlightened and sympathetic to the plight of others when no one else would listen. She could see for herself that there had been and always would be those in the Glades helping each other. Laurel had made more friends in the months since moving to her new home than she had had in her life, and friends who wouldn’t just disappear on her the way so many of her and Oliver’s high society acquaintances had after the Gambit sank. And her understanding of justice and how it was enacted out in the real world had shifted radically as she had lost the blinders of her father’s old strictures and learned for herself what truly needed doing. She wouldn’t trade any of that for her old life.

Maybe, in a way, Oliver would understand. After all, he was the man he was today in part because of the misfortunes he had learned to fight and live through. She didn’t think he would go back, either.

Her wandering thoughts were cut off by her phone, which she could feel buzzing in her pocket. Laurel pulled off the road into an alley before stopping the bike and getting it out. “Hello?”

“Laurel, listen, it’s me,” John Diggle said. She tensed, wondering if he was about to let her know he had told Oliver about her. “I’m hoping you can stop by the base tonight.”

“How come?”

“We got word about Walter, and it’s… not good. Oliver’s not doing well. I’d stay with him, but Felicity’s taking it hard, too. She needs someone. And I think — no, I know he probably needs you.”

Laurel’s eyes had closed at hearing Walter’s name and she swallowed once before nodding. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Bad news about Walter. She could only assume someone had found the body. What a horrible thing to happen to a good man. What must Oliver’s family be going through? Apparently they weren’t grieving together, if Oliver had chosen to retreat to his base.

Laurel stopped by her home to drop off her wig and mask, then drove out to the Verdant. John’s car was still parked out back, so he must have decided to wait for her to arrive before leaving for Felicity’s. She remembered the blonde woman a little, though she didn’t know what she had to do with Walter exactly. Anyone would be taking the news of an innocent man’s death badly, though.

Laurel came in through the back entrance and immediately took notice of the fact that most of the lights were off. She spotted John in a chair, talking in low tones to Oliver, who was sitting on the ground with the wall at his back.

They both looked up at her approach, and Laurel slowed to a stop. But John stood and nodded to her in thanks before walking out the way she had come. Oliver’s gaze lowered back to his hands, and they were left in silence.

Laurel forewent the chair and settled cross-legged on the ground, her knee bumping Oliver’s thigh. “I’m so sorry, Ollie.”

“I don’t know what I expected. I guess, because of the lack of ransom note, I thought he might be being held for some other reason. That we could find him in time. But it didn’t matter what we did. He was dead before I left the hospital last December.”

She couldn’t exactly hug him from this position, so Laurel wrapped an arm around his shoulders and guided him to rest his head against her own shoulder. That he went with little fuss or fight wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

“How’s Thea taking it?”

“Not well. I left her with- with Raisa.” His shoulders, if anything hunched tighter together. “They both knew Walter better than I had the chance to. I can’t really relate to what she’s going through.”

“Of course you can,” Laurel told him gently. “You lost your own father.”

“And I wasn’t able to save him any better than I was able to save Walter for Thea. Or for mom.” His throat bobbed, and his voice came out strained. “She’s shut herself back up in her room again. I don’t know how we’ll get her out.”

“You will. Your mother loves you and Thea, but she just needs time. And this wasn’t your fault. You said it yourself, you were in the hospital when he was taken.”

“If I had beaten the Dark Archer—”

“Then you still wouldn’t have been at Queen Consolidated to stop Walter’s kidnapping. How could you have known to be there? Like you said, these people who took him left no sort of warning or indication that this was happening or why.”

He sighed through his nose. “There’s a lot happening that I still don’t know why.”

“You’ll figure it out,” she insisted. “You’ve already done so much since coming home. You can do this, too.”

“Thank you.” He lifted his head to look her in the eye at last. “You always believe in me no matter how badly it hurts you. I can’t help thinking you’d be better off if you never found out who I was, or if I’d kept my distance as the Hood. But maybe you’d have just ended up helping out the Woman instead.”

Laurel stiffened, her arm drawing back. “The Woman?”

“Yeah, that’s… well that’s what some of them are calling her. From everything that’s said, she’s more the hero that you hoped I’d be.”

Laurel’s heart sank. That wasn’t what she’d intended at all by going out. She’d been inspired by him and wanted to further what he had been doing on a smaller scale, not cause him to doubt himself.

“Ollie...”

“Hm?” His head tilted, curious as she struggled with how to say what she needed to. Yet as she struggled, a light seemed to spark in his eyes as his mouth fell open into a silent oh.

Laurel cringed. “That obvious?”

“Not as much as it should have been.” He hung his head, slowly shaking it side to side. “What have I done?”

Laurel frowned, shifting onto her knees so she could face him fully. “This isn’t something you did. Yes, you inspired me, but this was a choice I made. And it’s one I stand by.”

“If I hadn’t gotten you into trouble at work—”

“How many times am I going to have to remind you of all the good you’ve done and just how heavily it outweighs the bad? I’m not even talking about the city here. I’m talking about me.”

He looked up at her, and Laurel decided in that moment that they’d better stand. She needed to pull him out of this hole, and physically doing so was just about as good a place to start as any. So she took hold of his hands and tugged him up onto his feet with her.

“Without you, I would never have won the Hunt case once it got put in front of Judge Grell. I wouldn’t have won the Sommers case, either, because I’d probably be dead. Assuming I even managed to survive that, I would have let Peter Declan die like everyone else without you pointing it out to me. Yes, I was a lawyer, Ollie, and a good one. But I was passive. I was passive in every aspect of my life, too afraid to live because I didn’t want to get hurt. I’d found my comfort zone, and I was stuck in it.

“You changed that, the way you always do,” she continued, allowing herself to smile a little. “And it turned out that losing everything was the best thing to happen to me. I was too naive to see just how badly the system was functioning until I was living it for myself. Now that I know better, I can be more proactive, both in protecting the people of this city and myself. I know exactly what I’m willing to tolerate from people and the level of respect I deserve.” She thought of her mother and the lie she had kept all those years and never truly apologized for. Hard to imagine that she could find it easier to forgive the man who had betrayed her trust rather than her own flesh and blood, but Oliver had never once taken her forgiveness for granted the way her mother had seemed to be doing when she had arrived. He had worked for it, earned it.

But how he responded to her choice to take to the streets was going to be the true test going forward of whether she really did have his respect. She took a breath and said, “I can understand if you’re upset I didn’t tell you, but I needed to do this for me. To prove to myself I still had something to give to our city. So what are you thinking now?”

Oliver shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly still taking in a lot of what she had just heaped on him. At the very least, she had probably provided a distraction from his grief if she hadn’t alleviated it. But she knew firsthand it wasn’t so simple a thing as telling it to go away. “I don’t know. I can’t be happy about this, Laurel. Not because you’ve done something wrong, but because of the way this city forces good, honest people like you and your father to go outside the system in order to actually make a difference. Anywhere else, CNRI could’ve operated independently from the interests of wealthy backers, and they never would’ve forced someone as talented as you out the door. They have no idea what they gave up.”

He paced away a moment, then came back. “I’m also terrified. I know just how dangerous it is out there, and I never wanted you to be in that kind of danger, let alone put yourself there. Is this what you’ve been going out there in?” He took hold of the two sides of her jacket which she’d unzipped upon reaching the base. At her nod, he frowned. “It’s not enough. You could take some real damage, get shot.”

“I have been,” she told him and shrugged. “Mostly a graze, but I handled it.”

He stared at her in shock, seemingly at a loss for words.

Laurel sighed and placed her hands over his. “Look, I knew this was going to be hard for you. That’s why I didn’t want to burden you with it. We haven’t run into each other out in the field so far, so you don’t have to think much about it if you don’t want.”

“It’s not that simple,” he argued. “I won’t be able to stop thinking about what could happen.”

“You can’t ask me to stop.” Laurel pried his fingers off her jacket and stepped back, only for him to follow and cup her face.

“I know. I know that, Laurel. If this year’s shown me anything, it’s that you’ll do things your way no matter what. You’re just like me that way.” His thumbs stroked her cheekbones as his eyes searched hers, and she tried not to shiver. “If the choice is between doing this with or without me, which would you choose?”

“What?”

He seemed at least a little amused by her shock, judging by the soft smile on his face as he said, “I’d rather you be at my side than out on your own. That’s what I’m thinking now.”

Laurel swallowed, her eyes stinging a little. Not in her wildest dreams had she expected Oliver to make that kind of offer, not at first anyway. He really had changed. She gripped his forearms. “There’s things I’m focused on that you’re not, and I can’t say I’d be much help against someone like that Dark Archer.”

“That’s okay. We can figure out what works.”

“Okay,” she agreed, her voice barely audible.

Oliver licked his lips, and, close as they were, she couldn’t help staring. “I need you, Laurel.”

“I know.” The truth was, she needed him, too. Tommy had seen it all those months ago, back when she had been unwilling to admit it. But she knew in her bones they were ready now, in a way they’d never been before.

He leaned down, one hand moving around to cup the back of her head, fingers playing with the shorter strands. Her own hands slid up his arms to his chest, his shoulders, his neck as their lips met. This wasn’t the rushed, blindly passionate kiss they had shared in his bedroom all those months ago. Laurel felt grounded in who she was and where and when and who she was with, and she was glad. She had missed him so, so much.

They broke apart, and Oliver brought his forehead to rest against hers, his eyes closed. She stroked the back of his neck and held him, her eyes darting around the base. Everything was so cold and sterile; had he really been planning to spend the whole night here?

“Why don’t you come home with me?”

His eyes opened, though he stayed silent.

“You shouldn’t be alone right now. We can talk, or we don’t have to, but I want to be there for you.” She would make sure he returned to his family at some point, but she’d learned the hard way to read his physical tells of when he wasn’t ready to do something and wouldn’t say it out loud. She would give him the night before gently reminding him how much his sister and mother needed him, too.

Laurel led him by the hand out of the base, though Oliver stopped short at the sight of her bike. “You drove here on this?”

“Yeah. It’s sturdy,” she added when he continued to stare dubiously at it.

“Maybe for one. Come on, we’re taking mine.”

“I think you just want to drive,” Laurel replied with crossed arms as they headed further across the lot.

“You can drive — once I get you a new bike.”

She was having trouble keeping herself from smiling, glad that he already seemed to be feeling at least a little better. “I like my bike. Roy and I worked hard on it.”

“Roy?”

“Let’s just say I’m not the only one you inspired.”

Oliver’s eyebrows raised, though all he did was swing a leg over the bike and wait for her to get on. She wrapped her arms securely around him, and with one last soft look back at her, he started the engine and headed off for her place.

---

Oliver didn’t actually go to sleep. He rested with his eyes closed, even retreated into his own mind for a while, but he was afraid to truly lose consciousness. Because it might mean that when he woke up, he would realize all this was a dream.

He didn’t know how he could be experiencing a kind of dream with everything else going on — Walter’s loss was waiting somewhere in the recesses of his mind for the chance to drag him down into guilt and grief again at any moment. Yet the Laurel in his head had often come to him in his darkest moments on the island to help him see a way through. That the real one was here now to do so herself was a greater comfort than she probably knew.

Laurel had dozed for a while, but mostly she’d stayed awake, quietly running a hand up and down his back while his head rested against her breast. They were entwined practically head to toe to fit on her incredibly small mattress, and Oliver’s feet were still hanging the slightest bit over, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. In truth, parts of his body were very happy with the situation.

The part of him that wanted to remain in this bed with Laurel forever, whatever they got up to in it, was eventually superseded by the realization that he had not eaten since before his confrontation with Dominic Alonzo. A loud growl from his stomach pretty effectively cut through the quiet intimacy of their embrace, and Laurel lifted her head the same time that he did.

“I probably have something in my cabinets. I’ll give you a minute to get settled.” Her pointed glance down had him ducking his head slightly, though she swiftly leaned in to kiss him on the cheek in a sign she clearly didn’t mind.

Oliver ran through some of the meditation techniques he had been trained in before feeling sufficiently calm and in control, then stopped in the bathroom to wash his face. There was a potted plant of some kind that sat there, its green leaves long and healthy. He padded out to the kitchen in his bare feet to find Laurel at the stove with a skillet and eggs. This warranted some monitoring.

To his surprise, however, there were no major accidents as she fried two eggs for them each. He found a couple plates in her cabinet and got them each some water as well, and they took seats at the counter beside each other.

“So, this Roy. You wouldn’t be talking about Roy Harper, would you?”

“I would. Jealous?” She asked in mock seriousness.

“Considering he’s supposed to be dating my sister, I hope not.”

Laurel raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know they’d gotten together. That’s interesting.”

Interesting was a perfectly neutral word and probably one he would use if Thea ever asked his opinion on her relationship.

“How much does he know?”

“He knows about me. Helped me home the other night when I was shot.”

Well, the younger man was rising in his estimation, at least.

“He wants to know about you,” Laurel continued after taking another forkful of egg. “I told him I’d see what you thought.”

He frowned in thought. What did he think? Roy Harper was an oddball, in that he had been on the right track to becoming a career criminal before suddenly changing his ways. He couldn’t say if it was down to Thea’s influence, his saving the kid’s life or these encounters with Laurel he was only just learning about. Maybe it was a combination. That being said, he wasn’t sure he was prepared to trust Roy with his identity just yet. He was still something of a loose cannon, even if he had turned over a new leaf.

“I’ll give it some thought. Maybe once I’ve figured out what the Undertaking really is.”

“The Undertaking?”

He froze and then shook his head. “I guess I always meant to tell you. The night I went to see my mother as the Hood, it was because Digg had overheard her meeting with some man about something they called the Undertaking. It has something to do with the list my father gave me and something to do with the underground subway tunnels in the Glades, but beyond that I don’t know a thing.”

Laurel frowned. “Did Walter? Maybe that’s why…”

He nodded. “Felicity told me he got a copy of the list from my mother and was looking into it before his- his death.” It was hard to put it so finally. “But he didn’t have any better ideas about what it was than we do, or if he did then he was never able to share them.”

Laurel placed her hand over his resting on the counter. Oliver turned his palm over so that he could lace their fingers together.

“If it’s something worth killing for, it can’t be good.”

“Yep.”

They didn’t have much longer to talk about it since his phone started buzzing. Oliver glanced at the caller ID, seeing his sister’s name, before answering. “Hello?”

“Ollie, where are you?”

He winced. He hadn’t actually wanted Thea to worry about him. “At a friend’s. I’m okay, Speedy, I promise.”

“Then you haven’t seen the news,” she told him.

Oliver felt something cold settle in the pit of his stomach. “Why, what’s happened?”

“They’re saying Mr. Merlyn passed away in the hospital sometime last night. Complications with his recovery.”

“Oh.” It was wholly inadequate, and yet, Oliver could only feel numb. He had just started processing Walter’s death. To know that another man who had been in his life since childhood — and truly more so, having been his father’s best friend — was simply gone, like that, was simply bizarre. He had known Mr. Merlyn’s chances of recovery were slim and felt incredible guilt over having been unable to convince Tommy of the blood transfusion, yet for it to have taken such a turn for the worse so quickly, it felt like pulling the rug out from under him. He hadn’t even had the chance to visit the man in his hospital room yet.

Though thinking of his old friend, Oliver asked, “Have you heard from Tommy?”

“No. I was kind of hoping you had.”

His eyes squeezed shut. “I haven’t. Listen, I’ll- I’ll be home soon. I’ll leave right now. Just stay with mom. Has she heard yet?”

“I don’t think so. She’s still in her room,” Thea told him.

“Then wait for me, and we’ll tell her together.” He couldn’t imagine how hard this would be for his mother, losing her husband and her old friend in essentially the same night. They would be lucky if she left the house by fall. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay.”

He hung up, meeting Laurel’s concerned eyes. “What’s wrong with Tommy?”

“Nothing exactly. Just… Mr. Merlyn passed last night, according to the news.”

Laurel brought her other hand up to her mouth, and the one holding his clutched at his fingers tightly. “Oh, Tommy.”

“Yeah. I need to check on my mother, and then I’ll see about tracking him down.” Guilt churned anew in his stomach as he thought of the way he and his friend’s last conversation — or perhaps argument — had ended. And he worried what Tommy might think if he knew where and who Oliver was with right now. In the next moment, he dismissed that thought. Laurel was important to him, and Tommy knew that. He had been willing to set aside his own disappointment to be happy for his friends when they had tried to make a relationship work. As his friend, wouldn’t Tommy be willing to make the same choice?

He stood up and leaned in for one last kiss Laurel readily gave him. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do. If there’s word on the arrangements…”

“Of course.”

He made the drive back to Queen Manor to find Thea sitting on the steps up to the bedrooms. “Were you out all night?”

“Kind of. Come on.” He helped her up, and together they headed to their mother’s bedroom door. He knocked lightly. “Mom?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” Her voice sounded remarkably steady.

Oliver exchanged a look with Thea before asking, “Can we come in?”

“Of course.”

He opened the door and entered, Thea trailing him.

Their mother was sitting up in bed, a robe pulled on over her pajamas. A photo album sat in her lap, one that, Oliver realized with an uncomfortable lurch, must have been produced for her and Walter’s wedding. She was stopped on a photo of the two of them, her one hand lovingly stroking the side of the page.

“I always hated this picture. I thought I looked bug-eyed,” she confessed, her tone more wistful than it was sorrowful. “But he always took a wonderful photo.”

“Mom, there’s been some, uh, some news,” Thea spoke up timidly.

She looked up, expectant, but Thea turned to him.

“Mr. Merlyn passed away last night in the hospital.”

He watched her eyes widen and mouth drop, heard the sympathy in her voice as she said, “Oh no, I was hoping for Tommy’s sake he would pull through. Malcolm was such a strong man.”

“Yeah, they think it was complications from the coma or something,” Thea muttered. “I wish I’d apologized to him for what I said at the party.”

Their mother opened her arms, and Thea sat on the side of the mattress and accepted her hug. “I don’t think he held it against you at all, dear. You were going through a hard time. Something this family isn’t strangers to, I’m afraid.” She smoothed Thea’s hair back and looked up. “I’ll make sure flowers are sent to Tommy’s home right away. Have you spoken to him yet?”

“No,” said Oliver, a little stiffly. Something felt off.

“Well, I’d reach out as soon as possible, Oliver. He’s going to need your support.” She shut the album and laid it on Walter’s side of the bed with care. “I’ll dress and start seeing to those arrangements.”

Thea stood and backed up towards him, and when their mother got up as well she reached out and cupped both their cheeks. “Thank you for checking on me and letting me know. It would have been dreadful to read it in the paper.”

“Sure, mom,” Thea said.

“Yeah,” Oliver agreed uneasily. He followed Thea out of the room and shut the door, pausing there in the hall.

Thea let out a breath in relief. “Well, nothing like keeping up appearances to get her moving again.”

“I guess,” Oliver replied, but kept the rest of his thoughts to himself. He hated thinking it, but his mother had been almost too put-together given what Thea had told him of her handling of his and his father’s reported deaths and what he’d seen when Walter was first declared missing. And while she had displayed the typical signs of shock at the news about Mr. Merlyn, it just hadn’t felt like his mother. Where was the denial, the insistence that someone at Channel 52 had gotten it wrong?

But what did it mean? It could just be that she had made her peace with both Walter’s disappearance and Malcolm’s health already.

There was nothing he could do about the misgivings he held right now, and truthfully he was avoiding reaching out to Tommy. Oliver got out his phone and dialed, frowning when it went straight to voicemail. He tried again and sent a text for good measure.

Where would Tommy be right now? The hospital? He didn’t want to intrude there if he was. Beyond that, Oliver wasn’t totally sure where Tommy had been living ever since he had walked out of Laurel’s apartment.

He looked up the number to call to try and reach Tommy at Merlyn Global. A secretary answered, of course.

“Hi, this is Oliver Queen. I was hoping to get in touch with your boss. I just heard the news about his father.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Queen, but Mr. Merlyn is taking a leave of absence at this time and will not be taking any calls. I can have the details of the upcoming memorial service sent to you if you would like to pay your respects at that time.”

“I would, thank you.”

He took lunch with his mother and Thea, even more troubled than before. His mother was up and about while Tommy had shut off all forms of contact. What was going on?

Diggle had made it in by the time lunch was over, and Oliver led him into a side room to talk. “You’ve seen the news?”

“Yeah. I was expecting it to be pretty quiet around here.”

“So was I.”

John raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t here when it hit?”

“Later. Look, the main thing is, I can’t get a hold of Tommy. He’s been… off lately, but I don’t want to leave him alone in this. Would Felicity be up for pinging his phone?”

His friend shook his head. “She’s zonked out on Nyquil after crying her way through the night. I doubt she’s even heard about Merlyn.”

He let out a breath. “Then I guess we wait.”

It was two days of feeling like something was not quite right with the world. Between Mr. Merlyn’s sudden passing, Tommy’s silence and his mother’s strange calm, Oliver wasn’t sure what was truly causing his senses to be on high alert.

Only Laurel could get him to calm both nights when she joined him and Digg down in the base. Without Felicity there to chatter like she had been the last couple nights they had been following the lead on Walter, her company was welcome to them both, and Oliver felt some of the tension in him ease as they ran practice spars against each other. Laurel was fairly solid on the fighting forms she had chosen to learn while Oliver had bits and pieces from a variety of teachers, and it made them an odd yet oddly suited match as they tested each other’s limits. She took quickly to learning from both him and Diggle; it was the studious nature in her that drove her to discover and master anything about a subject she took interest in.

“The memorial is going to be at the Merlyn home,” Oliver told her the second night as they danced around each other on the mats. “They’re burying him next to his wife.”

Laurel froze, only for a moment, but it was enough for him to get behind her and pin her arms to her sides.

She kicked out, forcing him to jump back, and then she had spun to face him again. “Do you think… I still haven’t spoken to him since it all fell apart.”

“What other time is there going to be?” Oliver pointed out. “I know things didn’t end well, and I didn’t help that by driving a wedge between you two as the Hood. But Tommy is going to need us. I hope he is, anyway.”

His mother and Thea reacted only with mild surprise when Laurel arrived at the manor the next morning dressed all in black to make the drive over to the Merlyns’ with them. She had brought a basket of roses with her in a deep red color, more like crimson.

“They mean grief and sorrow. Pam and I put them together,” Laurel told him.

After being dropped off by their driver, their procession of four walked across the lawn to where chairs had been set out. Already the crowd was filling in, and Oliver found them a row near the front with enough open seats.

Before she could enter the row with them, his mother was approached by Frank Chen, another old friend to the family. The two were speaking softly enough that Oliver couldn’t make out what was being said, but something again felt odd. He just couldn’t place it.

Up ahead, he spotted the back of Tommy’s head where he sat in the front row. His only companion looked to be a woman with long, dark hair, though Oliver could not distinguish any of her features from behind. He didn’t think he knew her, and he wondered how Tommy did, his mind briefly recalling what his friend had said about the girls at Oliver’s funeral being like fish in a barrel. He immediately dismissed the thought; Tommy would never use his own father’s funeral for a score. He felt he knew his friend that well at least.

Eventually his mother took her place beside Thea, and Chen found his own seat further back. The funeral conductor moved to the front and center of the gathering.

“We are here to remember and to commemorate the life of one of Starling City’s most dedicated humanitarians. A beloved husband, father and friend to many. There were few who were as passionate about the future of our home and our people as Malcolm Merlyn.”

The conductor championed Mr. Merlyn’s story; a young businessman who had come to Starling City because he saw the potential to prosper, and prosper he had. How he had met Rebecca Merlyn through his friends, Oliver’s parents, and how special their love had been. Merlyn Global, Tommy’s birth, Rebecca’s loss, the ways he had continued to give back in memory of her.

“It was another senseless act of violence that robbed the world of Malcolm Merlyn. But I am told that he died as he lived, protecting another. His son, Thomas Merlyn. Thomas asked not to speak today, but he wished it to be known that he intends to carry on his father’s legacy in all ways.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his mother shift, her throat tightening. Her eyes stayed fixed forward. Laurel sent him a questioning glance, but Oliver gave the smallest shake of his head. Here wasn’t the place to get into his mother’s strange behavior.

The ceremony closed, and one by one, everyone came up to the front to pay their respects. Oliver tried to think of the last words he exchanged with Mr. Merlyn; he truthfully hadn’t seen much of him since his return home. He had called out to him to keep moving that night of the attack, and his father’s old friend had nodded in understanding. If only it had been the right call to make.

“I got in an argument with him,” Laurel said quietly, as if sensing his thoughts. “I went to dinner with him and Tommy, and we had a disagreement about his treatment of him.”

“Well, from what I know, Tommy and his father became pretty close by the end,” Oliver mused. “So maybe your argument helped more than you thought.”

Most of the guests were making their way to the house where tables with refreshment had been set up. Tommy, however, remained standing on the patio, nodding in acknowledgement or murmuring a quiet thanks to those mourners who addressed their condolences to him. As Oliver and Laurel approached, his eyes seemed to fix on them. Oliver wasn’t sure what to make of the expression on his friend’s face; it seemed like one of loathing.

Laurel took the lead in coming up to Tommy, hesitating for one moment before wrapping him into a hug. Tommy remained stiff and did not even attempt to return it. Oliver was more concerned with the woman who had sat next to Tommy at the service watching them from several feet back. Her gaze was cool and calculating, and the noticeable scar on her face had him wondering just who she was.

“Tommy, I’m so sorry,” Laurel said as she stepped back. “I know things between us — they didn’t end well, but I’m here for you. We both are,” she added, looking back at Oliver.

Oliver’s own words of comfort died on his lips when Tommy’s mouth twisted into something like a sneer. “A united front, just like the old days. I can see that’s not the only thing you coordinated. So how long after the breakup did that take?”

Oliver looked down. “What’s happened between Laurel and I is recent. It’s also not what today is about. You’ve lost your only family, and as your friends, we just want to support you.”

“Forgive me if I don’t really believe you, considering one more dead billionaire should just be another feather in your cap,” Tommy said. “Or hood, I guess.”

Oliver felt his heart stop for a single moment, and beside him, Laurel’s mouth dropped open. But he knew he had to try and deflect this — nothing about Tommy’s behavior right now said that confirming his suspicions was a good idea. If anything, Oliver’s own worst imaginings of his friend’s reaction were playing out in front of his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t try. I still have keys to the club. I’ve seen your little base of operations, Oliver.”

He had no idea what to say. That Tommy was essentially accusing him, and in front of a witness, what did that mean exactly? Was he planning to expose him?

“Oh, don’t mind Athena,” Tommy said, having followed his line of sight. “She’s my new partner. What I know, she knows.”

“You told her before even talking to Oliver?” Laurel didn’t bother to hide the outrage Oliver was beginning to feel beneath the shock and the panic.

“She’s been truthful with me unlike my supposed best friends,” Tommy shot back. “Were you ever planning to tell me, or were you waiting until my father was dead so I couldn’t warn him?”

“Tommy, your father was the humanitarian of the year,” Oliver reminded him. “He was never in any danger from the Hood.” It was the four of them only on the patio, yet he didn’t feel comfortable naming himself as the vigilante all the same.

Tommy eyed him, just the slightest bit of surprise on his face. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

But his friend shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. If you weren’t the one behind this, I’ll find out who was. Someone hired the Triad.”

That brought Oliver up short. In the aftermath of the attack, he had never really thought to pursue that angle. Why had Mr. Merlyn been targeted? Who had wanted him dead in the first place? Who stood to gain?

“We can help you with that,” Laurel offered, looking back at him once to check that she wasn’t stepping over a line. He quickly nodded. “Oliver has contacts, resources.”

“Thanks, but I have my own now.”

“Tommy,” Oliver began, but stopped. He hated having to ask this. It scared him to ask. “What are you going to do about…”

“About what I know? Nothing. I like being alive,” Tommy said coldly.

Oliver drew back a step. He had never wanted this, one of his loved ones to look at him with utter loathing and revulsion. Even if it was what he deserved.

“You could have just asked him not to come if that’s how you feel,” Laurel said, and he noted dimly that her hands were clenched into fists. She was ready to fight.

“It’s how I would have expected you to feel, given everything you used to believe in,” Tommy told her. “But he was always the exception, wasn’t he?”

“As it is, I believe you both should go,” the mysterious Athena said, walking up to Tommy’s side. Her voice was accented, but he couldn’t place the origin. “Thomas has guests and other matters to attend to.”

“That’s just fine.” Laurel turned and seized Oliver’s hand, marching him down the walk towards the front gates. She was seething, and Oliver didn’t know if her plan was to walk all the way back to his family’s home or to the Glades themselves.

“Let me call Digg,” he said, horrified to discover his voice sounded choked. Oliver blinked, and moisture gathered at the corners of his eyes. He had known and feared since the night he had failed to save Malcolm what Tommy’s reaction might be. The reality was worse than anything he could prepare for.

Laurel waited for him to place the call, then stepped into his space and pulled him into a hug after he had put his phone away. He folded around her, needing this comfort more than ever. How could his oldest friend have changed so much? Or had Oliver simply been the one to change, and it was too much for Tommy to handle?

“We need to know more about this Athena,” he decided after an unknowable time. Wherever she had come from and why, she was exerting a powerful influence on Tommy that worried him. He had to know what her aim was, if only for his peace of mind regarding his friend.

---

He had thought he would feel some sense of satisfaction or vindication. He didn’t.

Instead, Tommy had more questions than answers once again, a feeling he hated. If Oliver truly hadn’t known his father’s identity, then who had the Triad been working for that night? Who were they still working for?

Athena was convinced his father’s death was no accident or the result of a complication. “The waters I gave you are infallible. They heal, they do not cause further harm. Someone else must have acted to ensure your father’s demise.”

One of the people his father recruited. Probably they were inside the manor right now, playing the part of a mourner. It made his blood boil.

He retreated to his father’s office with Athena. It was high time to go through the files on what his father had called the Undertaking in full. It had waited too long already. Had he known the person behind the attack at the award ceremony would strike again, he wouldn’t have put it off. He could have saved his father. But he had always been a disappointment, hadn’t he?

I won’t fail you now, dad, Tommy thought to himself.

What truly interested him in the files was a folder his father had labeled Insurance. There he found documents detailing the crimes of each member of Starling City’s high society Tommy had always thought of as his father’s inner circle. Carl Ballard’s record of tax evasion; a voice recording of Robert Queen, confessing to involuntary manslaughter; and most importantly of all, Frank Chen’s connections to and dealings with the Triad.

“Shall I apprehend Mr. Chen?” Athena asked.

“Wait until everyone has gone home. I don’t want people thinking his disappearance is connected to my father.” Not yet, anyway. He wanted the facts before he did anything that might affect his father’s reputation, not when it was all he had left.

“Then I will go and prepare a site for the interrogation. I will inform you of the details.”

Tommy nodded, then wandered back down the hall towards the main room where the low murmur of voices waited. An interrogation. Since when had this become his life?

He supposed it had always been this way. Ever since he was eight years old, at least, and his mother had been ripped away from them. He had been shielded from the majority of the violence that surrounded them ever since, but it had never meant it wasn’t present. He just hadn’t been paying attention. He would have to work hard at catching up.

“Tommy, there you are,” said a familiar voice, and he found himself being hugged again, this time by Thea Queen. Sweet Thea, so innocent to everything happening around her the way he had once been. He pitied her and envied her in turn. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine, Thea. It’s not my first time losing a parent.”

“Yeah,” she agreed glumly. “Me neither. We, uh, just got the news the other night that Walter… he wasn’t taken. He’s gone.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, because it was the thing to say. He supposed he felt badly for her. Walter Steele had been more her father than Oliver’s, at any rate. But she still had her mother and brother, assuming the latter didn’t get himself killed out there on his ridiculous crusade.

“If you ever need to come over and like be around people, you know you can do that, right? You’re like family.”

“That’s kind of you, Thea. But I’ll be fine.” He left the young woman behind, his eyes scanning the room. It appeared Chen had already left. A guilty conscience? He’d know soon enough.

Athena called him late in the afternoon and relayed the address she had brought Chen to. When Tommy walked into the empty building — one of Hunt’s abandoned projects since his company had pretty much dissolved with his death — Athena was waiting with Chen bound to a chair, a black sack over his head. He nodded to her, and she ripped it off.

As Chen shook himself and blinked in the sudden light, Tommy slowly stepped forward. He wanted the man to see him now, to know what this was truly about.

Chen’s questioning gaze left Athena, and his eyes widened as he took Tommy in. “Tommy? What is this?”

“I think you know exactly what this is, Frank. The humanitarian award ceremony. Why did you hire the Triad to attack my father at it?”

Chen’s face had gone slack with despair as each word was spoken. “I didn’t.”

“You’re lying.” It was as if people thought he was born yesterday. Well, Tommy Merlyn had woken to the ways of the world now, and he wasn’t going to be made the fool ever again.

“I didn’t hire them! I only—”

“Only what?”

“Please, Tommy. You are not your father,” Chen begged. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Oh, I won’t be doing anything,” Tommy promised. “Athena’s going to take care of that for me.”

A vicious grin rose on her lips as she withdrew a dagger from her belt. Athena held it up to the light, studying Tommy for a few moments before turning sharply on her toes to cut Chen across the cheek. The man cried out, and Tommy swallowed while shoving his hands into his pockets not to show them trembling. Chen would do better to talk; Tommy didn’t want to watch him be tortured, but he needed the information he had more.

“What was your role in the attack!”

“I only… I gave her the right number to call.”

“Her?” There were two women in this Tempest, as the group had apparently called itself. Councilwoman Pollard and Mrs. Queen.

Chen’s eyes were on the ground. “Moira. It was Moira’s idea.”

He froze. “Mrs. Queen?”

“Yes. After the Hood’s attack on her, she decided things were getting too dangerous. She wanted out, and she was convinced that Malcolm… that your father’s death was the only way to achieve that.”

Tommy stood there, unable to say another word. Mrs. Queen had done this? The woman had been something of a mother to him since he had lost his own, as much as he had allowed her to be.

“She chose the location and the time for the assassination. When it did not work as intended, she told me that would be the end of it. That we would wait and see.”

“And did she?” He couldn’t stop his voice from shaking, but Tommy didn’t mind that so much. It was in anger, not fear, and he thought Chen could sense that. “Wait?”

“I do not know. I tried to ask her today at the memorial, but she would tell me nothing. If she acted, something must have changed. I can’t think what that would be, other than her husband.”

“Walter?” What did Walter have to do with any of this?

Chen looked up, his brow furrowed. “Yes. Malcolm was holding him. You- you do know what he was doing, what he was planning? You can’t agree with it, Tommy. Please.” Chen leaned forward a little, only to shrink back when Athena moved the knife under his neck. “You must see it is madness.”

His father had been holding Walter hostage. Thea had said they had received the news that Walter had died. But how could that be if his father hadn’t even been conscious?

He needed to know what had happened to Walter Steele. Tommy turned to Athena. “Keep him here.” Then he marched back out to his car.

He went to the penthouse office rather than the house for expediency's sake. Tommy knew it was only down to how organized his father had kept things that he was able to find what he was looking for. A live feed to a dark room containing one living occupant: Walter Steele.

He was alive. Which meant his father had died for nothing at all.

Tommy was speeding back down the streets to get back back to the abandoned building, his mind so caught up in his anger and grief that he did not notice at first that the siren going off behind him was for him. With an irritated snarl, he pulled over and smacked his hand on the steering wheel as he waited for the officer to take his good, sweet time.

“Sir, are you aware you were going fifteen over the speed limit tonight?”

“Are you aware that I don’t actually give a shit?” He glared up at the man who gulped upon seeing his face. “Are you really going to give a man a ticket the night he had to lay his father to rest, Officer Brock?”

“No, Mr. Merlyn. Just, uh, just wanted to make sure you were driving safe.”

He smirked. “Thanks.” Tommy waited just long enough for the officer to step back before peeling away from the curb.

His fists were clenched tight enough he could feel his nails digging into the skin by the time he returned to find Athena standing guard over Chen while sharpening her knife. He slammed the side of his fist against the wall. “Walter Steele is still alive! So why did she do it?”

“I- I don’t know. I would tell you if I did.” The blood from his cut had dried on his cheek, a couple droplets staining the white collar of his shirt.

“If this man is useless to us, I can dispose of him and acquire the woman,” Athena offered, and Chen shuddered.

“No,” Tommy said. “Not yet. Mrs. Queen — Moira,” he corrected himself. She no longer deserved the respect. “Is a special case. We’ll need to be careful.”

The moment she was taken, Oliver would act. Oliver made this whole thing far more complicated than it needed to be, and the fact that his mother’s entire assassination plan had been precipitated by Oliver’s attack on her was all the more infuriating. If not for Oliver, his father would be alive!

There could be no physical harm brought against Moira Queen unless her son wasn’t an issue. And Tommy wasn’t sure he wanted to test Athena against Oliver. She claimed to be an elite fighter and had displayed a number of skills casually enough that he believed her, but the Hood had fought off impossible odds time and again this year. He had survived Tommy’s father, even. Striking out against Oliver would attract Laurel’s ire in turn as well, and while she was nowhere near the threat that Oliver presented, Tommy knew if it came to it, he could not harm her. Not physically.

But Moira was guilty. In her case, he might not have found himself so squeamish as to his father and Athena’s old ways. It just meant he would have to get creative, was all. One way or another, Moira Queen would receive retribution. This boiling rage inside of him would never cease unless she did.

“She just wanted the Undertaking to end,” Chen begged. His voice sounded a little hoarse. It had probably been hours since he had water. “The threats against our families—”

“If you wanted the Undertaking to be over, you would have turned my father over to the authorities. But you didn’t want your precious lives to be ruined by your own part in his plan,” Tommy told him coldly. “That’s what we’re all about in the elite high society circles, aren’t we? Appearances. Don’t try to pretend you cared what was going to happen to the Glades.”

“But you care. You’re not- you’re young, Tommy. You have your whole life ahead of you. You’re an innocent in all this. You don’t have to continue what Malcolm started.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

Athena looked at him sharply, but Tommy ignored her for the moment. She would see what he meant. An idea was slowly starting to form in his mind, something that might take care of his revenge on Moira and the matter of those earthquake devices sitting at Unidac Industries…

“Because you’re right. I’m not like my father.” Tommy paced away from Chen as he spoke. “My father cared about the Glades. Whatever you think of his methods, he wanted them to improve. You could even say he and the Hood were alike in that way.”

When he turned around to look, Chen was staring at him open-mouthed, stuck as if unsure whether to keep up his pathetic pleading. Athena was watching him, and he could not decide if she was doing so cautiously or curiously.

“I’m not,” Tommy announced plainly. “I have no grand plans or compassion for the Glades or its people. I’ve known since I was eight years old they can’t be saved. So I’m not going to.”

“Thomas.” Athena jerked her head towards the hallway. Tommy scowled, but followed her out. “You said you would uphold your father’s legacy.”

“And I will. But dad… nothing in his plans accounts for people who may work in, but not live in the Glades. Glades Memorial hospital is still open. The beat cops that patrol at night. It’s too imprecise, and I’m not comfortable with it. Should you really be?”

Athena blinked at him, the closest to surprised he had ever seen her.

“You told me you were going against what the people who taught you and my father stood for. We don’t have to do that. We can do things their way, seek their help.”

She frowned. “The League itself is weak. The Demon Head grows old, and has failed to secure a worthy line of succession. But I can teach you their ways and principles on my own.”

“Alright.” He didn’t mind the idea of training, in all honesty. Once he had gotten his revenge on Moira, he would be making an enemy of Oliver. Knowing how to defend himself was crucial.

“What of your father’s killer?”

“I have a plan for her.” The beginnings of one, at the least. He would need to perfect the details before he moved forward with it, but once he did, he wondered if his father might have been proud in some small measure. “We don’t need Chen any more.”

“I will need to silence him,” Athena said, in a tone that allowed no argument. “He is duplicitous and knows you will be moving against Moira Queen. He cannot warn her in advance, or you will lose her.”

She was right. And who was to say if Moira learned what he knew that Tommy wouldn’t find himself with a poisoned bullet in his chest next? Chen had Triad ties. That made him just as dirty as any of the people Oliver had killed this year. Probably more so. Why should he mourn a man who was party to his own father’s murder?

He drew in a breath through his nose and nodded. “Do it.”

Athena nodded back and slipped back into the room. Tommy turned and walked away down the hall, hearing the muffled thump of a body hit the floor. He knew what that sound was ever since he’d watched his own father fall.

It wasn’t retribution, not just yet. But it was close. And it wouldn’t be much longer now.

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #green arrow #black canary #my writing #bird in a storm

4 notes · View notes