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miniwheat77 · 1 year ago

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Triple Threat. (Keegan, König, & Ghost X Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, unprotected p in v sex, double penetration, Sex Pollen, drugs, death, violence, poorly translated German, (sorry if I missed any.)

It’s been a long day.

You’ve been walking for miles behind the trio of masked men. You aren’t even sure why you were sent on this mission, considering the three men in front of you were the strongest. Physically and Mentally. They’re all skilled, more skilled than you’ll ever be. But you obey orders and even though you’re pointless to be here, you’re still enjoying yourself. König thought you’d be useful, you can’t argue there.

You’re lagging behind a bit, listening to everything going on. You’ve got a clear idea of how this mission is supposed to go. Capture the target, see what he knows, leave no survivors.

After a couple bomb threats from this person with the target of the base you all stayed on, you had no choice but to do this. You were getting too close to his operation and he was getting desperate. Which means whatever he has going on, is not good. You’d been walking a few miles, it’s where you were dropped off. You were closing in on the building he was in. It was all dense jungle around it. Nowhere to run.

As you approached the building, you noticed quite a few men outside. They were loading up a truck with crates of something. None of you had any kind of idea what it could be. “Keegan and Ghost, you two go ahead. You’re the quietest.” You nod. They give you nods of their own before splitting off into their own directions. “I’m going to go around, see if I can’t get a clear shot of some on the other side.” You mumble to König. He tilts his head. “Be safe, schatz.” You smile, “always.”

You make your way around, not having any idea of what awaits you ahead.

König watches through his scope, not sure why he’s out here when he did better with close combat, but nevertheless he kept quiet and stayed hidden. He watched Ghost and Keegan zero in.

“Y/N, how’s it looking?” He says into his radio.

He receives nothing but silence.

“Y/N? Do you copy?”

After another few minutes of silence, he begins to panic.

“Y/N isn’t responding, she circled around to get a better view, verrücktes Mädchen.” He mumbles the rest as he releases the button on his radio. “Shit. We have to get inside.” Ghost calls back.

“Keegan, do you copy?”

Ghost calls.

Goosebumps rise on his skin when he gets nothing in return. He’s breathing hard, resting up against a door. “Keegan?” He asks again. He sighs. “König. Keegan isn’t answering either.”

He takes in a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He’s surprised when König doesn’t call back.

“König?”

Silence.

“God damnit.“ he breathes, taken by surprise when a dart is being shot into his neck. “What the f-“

That’s the last he remembers.

Slowly, one by one, they’re waking up. They’re on their knees with their hands tied behind their backs. They’ve killed most of the threats, but there’s still one. “Rise and shine.” He smiles. Their vision is blurry but they can hear you whimpering. When they fully register what’s going on, they start to panic. You’re strapped to a chair, fully naked. You’ve got a cloth tied around your mouth. “What the fuck is going on?” Keegan yells. “Ah, so you can talk.” The man smiles. He’s breathing hard, fighting against his restraints. He runs a knife over your chest and you close your eyes tightly, breathing heavily. “Deep breaths darling. Yeah, that’s it.” He chuckles.

König’s eyes darken. He wants to rip this man’s head off for touching you.

“Your precious girl here is infected now. Well… all of you are.” He chuckles. “This little dart here. Holds 1 Milliliter of the sweetest drug you can get your hands on.” He holds up the little dart. “I prescribe about 1/4 of that for my very special clients. You’re all infected with enough of this to kill a horse.” He laughs. “What the hell is it?” Ghost seethes. “Oh? You don’t know?” He smirks. “It’s a sex drug. A bit like the over the counter ones you can buy, but on steroids. When you take a little bit, you get aroused, you produce pheromones that attract people, makes sex intense. But when you take in more than the recommended amount..” he clicks his tongue.

“Heart rate picks up. Blood pressure rises. Keeps rising and rising until it bottoms out. You’ll either die of a heart attack or your heart will just give out.” He laughs. “So.. your girl here. She was infected first. Which means she’s going to die first, and you’re all going to watch her squirm. She’s going to beg for relief, beg for anything you’ll give her. But you’re stuck.” He laughs. “The only way she’ll feel better is if she gets fucked enough.” He laughs. He sits down in a chair, writing something down. “Ich werde dich töten.” König seethes. Looking up at him through his mask. “What was that big guy? Hm?” He laughs. He stands up once more. “You know what, I’ve got an idea. How about we get rid of the ridiculous costumes, show your real faces!” He claps his hands together. He starts with König, pulling off his hood. He glares up at him. Next was Ghost, he tugs his balaclava off. Ghost sends him a death stare. Next was Keegan, who had a smile on his face. “What are you smiling at?” He crouches down. “Just think your head is going to look perfect on a stick.” He spits in his face. He growls. “Whatever. Pay close attention to your little girlfriend, she’s going to start begging soon enough.” He mumbles. “She’s actually really sexy, might give her a go before her heart explodes.” He grips his dick through his jeans and that’s when König tugs at the ropes, feeling them start to give away. You whimper out, shifting in your chair. “Yeah, there we go.” He chuckles, sitting back down. He goes back to writing something down, and you squirming on the chair doesn’t help the situation at all. You’re rubbing your thighs together, raising your hips. You’re rutting them down into the chair for any sort of relief. As the time goes on, the worse it gets. Pretty soon, all three men are trying to ignore the tightening in their pants, shifting uncomfortably, trying hard to get out of their restraints.

“Awe. Look at you.” The man smiles. “Soaking the chair.” He chuckles. He runs his fingertips up your thigh and you flinch. “Stop.” Ghost growls. “Nah, I think it’s time I take her for a test drive.” He smiles. König rips through the ropes, the man freezes when he hears the click of a gun.

“Turn around.” He growls. “Woah… take it easy big guy. I was only joking.”

“Ich habe einen Witz für dich.” He smiles. “What?” He asks. Just then, König pulls the trigger. He hits the man right between the eyes. He falls backward, blood pouring from his head. König cuts the ropes off of Ghost and motions for him to free Keegan. König rushes to get to you. “You okay?” He asks. “No-“ you shiver. He kneels down, freeing you from the chair. “I know, it’s hard. But you have to fight it.” Ghost mumbles. “Are you hurt? Did he touch you?” He asks. You shake your head. “No.” You grit your teeth. “Where are your clothes?”

“I don’t know, it’s too hot anyways.” You pant. Your skin is hot to the touch. Keegan stands behind you, brushing your hair away from you to look at you. You’re completely clear aside from a tiny puncture mark from the dart. “The… the only way-“ you grit your teeth, closing your eyes. “The only way is to have sex, I can feel my heart beating out of my chest.” You whine. “I feel it too.” Keegan mutters. Ghost looks down. Agreeing silently. König nods his head. “So what do we do?” Keegan asks.

“We do what we have to.” Ghost mumbles. You nod your head.

The more aroused the three men get, the better they seem to smell. They’re attracting you so much. You bend over, crying out. “You okay?” Keegan kneels by you. “Can’t take it anymore.” You look up at him. Tears streaming from your eyes. “Cmon.” He mumbles, sliding his arm under the bend of your knees and your back. He lifts you up. “We’ve got to find a room or something. If we’re going to do this we have to start now.” Keegan mumbles. They nod. They quickly move through the building, Ghost first, König next, and than Keegan with you. They move in a line, just in case there’s more men they don’t know about. You whine into Keegan’s shoulder. Propping yourself up onto him. “Y/N- what are you doing?” He mumbles. “Need it- need it so bad Keegan.” You mewl. You grip onto him, wiggling out of his grasp so that you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist. You attack his neck with your teeth, grinding your hips into him.

“Shit- Y/N. We’re almost there. You have to stop-“ he grits his teeth, Ghost and König glance back at you, seeing you attacking Keegan. Your desperation has them aching.

“In here.” Ghost holds open the door, locking it behind you and propping a chair up on it just in case. It’s a bedroom, at last. “Ah- you’ve got to let go sweetheart.” Keegan groans. “No, please. I need it. Need it so bad.” You whine. Grinding your hips into him more. “I know, we’re going to help you. Just… for one second baby.” He breathes. You let go of him and he lowers you onto the bed. “Fuck..” he growls. Noticing the way you’ve soaked the front of him. The three men are standing at the edge of the bed, staring down at you. Like you’re the finest meal they’ve ever laid their eyes on. Keegan is first to break, reaching for his belt. Your pupils are blown out as you watch his hands move to unbuckle it. The other two follow his movements. You bite your lip, body shivering at the thought of what’s about to happen. You can’t help yourself, reaching between your legs to stimulate the sensitive nub that awaits any kind of relief it can get. A mewl leaves your lips and you tilt your head back. “She’s going to have to get used to me, I’ll go last.” König nods. They all silently agree. He’s right, he’s the biggest of the three. After admiring the way you touch yourself, they can’t anymore.

Keegan reaches out, grasping your hips and pulling you to the edge of the bed. “Poor girl. Just soaking..” he breathes. He rubs the tip of his cock over your aching hole, a whine leaving your lips as you raise your hips into him. He moves his hips forward, the tip of his cock pushing through your wet folds. You want to cry when he fills you up. The relief you feel is incredible. You can feel more tears welling up in your eyes as he starts to thrust himself inside of you.

The squelch from your wet pussy is the only thing they can hear besides your whines. You squirm around, the way he feels is almost too much. “Ah- you’re gripping me so tight.” He breathes. “Hold on.” Ghost mumbles. He lifts you up off of the bed, apologizing at the loss you feel from Keegan exiting you. You straddle him. “You wet enough from her?” He asks. Keegan nods his head. “Y-yeah. Fuck.” He groans. He’s never done anything like this before, nothing like he’s about to do. Ghost lines his cock up with your pussy, and you sink down onto him with a gasp. Clutching his shoulders. “There you go, now relax for Keegan alright?” You nod your head. You feel Keegan’s tip aligning with your ass. You’d be worried. If it weren’t for the drug, you’d be modest and shy away from what they’re doing. But as he fills your ass to the hilt with ease, the fullness you feel. You can’t even think straight anymore.

The pleasure you feel from them has you on cloud 9. Vision blurring, you can barely make a sound. Your lips are parted, eyes are blown wide as they start to move into you. A chuckle leaves Ghosts lips at your reaction to them.

“She’s feeling good.” He laughs. “Think so.” Keegan chuckles. You rest your head on Ghosts shoulder, turning to look at König. He’s pumping his cock quickly, he’s desperate too. You reach your hand out for him. He moves closer and you take him into your hand, pumping his cock. He gasps out, head tilting back. You can see them, all of them. More than just the color of their eyes. You can see their sharp jawlines, the small scars decorating their faces. You can see the curves of their lips, their stubble that needs to be shaved. You can see and feel all of them, and it’s too much. Your first orgasm is coming fast. Your thighs are shaking, your cheeks are flushed from the warmth moving through you. “I.. I’m so close.” You whimper. Your hand tightens around König and he hisses slightly. “Fuck.” He groans. You clutch Ghost hard with your other hand. “I-“ you freeze up. Body going rigid as you reach your first orgasm. You cry out, soaking Ghost’s thighs with your arousal. “Oh fuck.” He breathes, looking down. “Look at the mess you’ve made of me.” He chuckles. “Ah fuck- I’m gonna cum too!” Keegan pants. He grips your hips hard. Thrusting into you harder. He’s chasing after his high, using you to reach it.

He’s panting hard, moans getting more unsteady by the second. “Oh fuck!” He growls, teeth gritted as he cums. His thrusts are sharp and bruising as he rides out his high, stuttering to a stop against you. You feel full of him, turning to look at him. He grips your throat, kissing you hard as he slides himself from your ass. “Fuck-“ he breathes. He steps away from you for a second.

“I think she’s ready for you, König.” Ghost nods. Keegan takes a deep breath, relaxing back into a chair. “Does it feel like it’s worn off?” Ghost asks him. He nods his head. “Yeah. I think it’s only got her so worked up because she’s smaller than us.” He nods. “Probably, never thought about it like that.” You’re rocking your hips into him, desperate for more. “I’ll go make sure the rest is all clear.” Keegan finishes getting dressed. König replaces the chair on the door behind him before making his way back to you. Ghost slides you off of him and you mewl at the emptiness you feel. He chuckles at this, “Relax, just for a second darling.”

“Go to König.” He breathes. You nod your head, König lifts you up into him, swapping places with Ghost. He sits down, lining his cock up with your entrance. “I’m really big sweetheart, so don’t get too eager.” He breathes. “Schau mich an.” He raises your chin and you look him in the eyes. “Keep looking at me.” He presses his forehead to yours. You slowly sink down onto him, thighs shaking slightly. He’s big. You moan out, and he takes the opportunity to kiss you. Once he’s bottoming out in you, you can barely hold yourself up. Ghost has his cock nestled into your ass, like Keegan had. He was already so close. When they start thrusting, you can’t keep quiet. It’s so much, and König adds to it. Circling your clit gently. Sucking your nipples into his mouth. You being stimulated is what helps the l drug wear off. He’d do what he had to.

Ghost has a tight grip on your hips, his thrusts are getting sloppy. He hisses, feeling you tighten slightly around him. He’s right on the edge. He tilts your head back, tugging slightly on your hair. König has one of your nipples between his lips, sucking gently as he rubs your clit. Ghost kisses you hard, his orgasm hitting him like a freight train. It’s by far the best he’s ever had. His body jerks hard as he finishes inside of your ass, pulling away from you completely. You moan at the loss of him, turning to look at him. “I’m going to go help Keegan.” He mumbles. He’s readjusting his cargo pants, buckling his belt. “Be safe.” You whimper. He nods. When he leaves this time, neither you or König are worried about the chair in front of the door. He lifts you up, turning around so that he can lay you on the bed. Smiling when you refuse to let go of him. “Relax, Ich gehe nirgendwohin.” He pushes your hips down into the bed, and looks at you. He’s not sure you’re ready for the force he’s about to use on you, but as desperate as you seem to be, he doesn’t think you’ll mind.

He starts at a fast pace, fucking into you hard. It only takes a few seconds and you’re nearly crying from how rough he is with you. His cock is big and you’ve never taken anything like the three of them ever before. You’ve got a death grip on the blankets beneath you, and you can’t stay quiet. He releases one hand, using it to rub circles into your sensitive nub once more, and that’s when you lose it. You’re sobbing when you finally cum again, raising your hips into him and flinching away from him when he continues his fast pace. “Doing so good for me. So ein gutes Mädchen.” He pants. He leans down to kiss you once more, his high is approaching too. The stimulation he feels is intense, you’re wrapped so tight around him, he just can’t take it anymore.

“Oh yes… yes so close.” He grips your hips hard as he slips over the edge, hips hammering into yours as he cums. You’re sure there will be bruises all over you. “Verdammt, so gut.” He cries. His thrusts halt, and he realizes he’s just filled you up with his cum. He sighs. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” He breathes. You look up at him. Eyes feeling heavy as the arousal finally begins to wear off. You send him a lazy smile. “Don’t be.” You breathe. He slides out of you, groaning as he does so. He takes a second, panting. He’s trying to catch his breath.

He helps you get cleaned up, making sure to clean your skin if the mix of arousal between the four of you.

He wraps you up in a clean blanket. Lifting you up and carrying you back into the room this had all begun. He’s looking around for your clothes but can’t seem to find them. “It’s all clear.” Keegan nods. König nods his head. He places you down in a chair for a moment, picking up his hood and returning it to cover his face. Ghost and Keegan doing the same. “I can’t find her clothes.” König sighs. “I’ve got them.” Keegan nods. He passes them to König and he thanks him. He unwraps the blanket you’re in, helping you get dressed. You’re exhausted and weak, eyes getting heavy as he helps you. “I’ve got a sample of the drug and some paperwork. That’s all we needed right?” Ghost asks. König nods his head. “Yes. All in all this was a successful mission.” He nods. “Jedoch, this stays between us.” He laughs. Ghost and Keegan can’t help but laugh, even you have a tired smile on your lips. “Yes sir.” Keegan laughs.

König ties your boots, and returns the blanket around you, lifting you up with ease. That was one good thing about the massive man, he was strong. “Let’s get to exfil. We all need to be checked out.” Ghost says. Everyone nods in agreement. You’ve finally fallen asleep and König can’t help but smile.

This was going to be a day to remember.

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mothgodofchaos · 14 days ago

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Pick

As someone who lives somewhere where it's very common to do a lot of "pick your own" I don't quite get paying others to pick their food, so neither does Jackie.

Jackieboy Man x GN!Reader, TW: suggestive comment Words: 583

“Remind me why were payin’ money t’ pick someone else’s apples?”

“I don’t know, supporting local farmers?”

“Sounds fake.”

Jackie looks through the aisles of apple trees, a bit overwhelmed by the sheer amount of apples in sight. He glares up into a particular tree, squinting angrily at something amongst the branches.

“Something wrong…?”

“T’ere’s a squirrel…”

“Oh my gods, c’mon-”

You drag him along, away from the squirrel tree and towards the pie apples. Jackie just holds the basket, waiting for you to give him some sort of instruction on what to do.

“Can you go grab that ladder for me so I can reach the apples I want?”

“Why? Ye don’t need a ladder.”

“What do you mean I don’t need a la-AHHH-! JACKIE-!!”

He swoops you and puts you up on his shoulders, grinning as he readjusts you.

“Ye~?”

“Reminder that you’re within smacking distance, Apple Jacks.”

“Oi! Don’t name me after a fucking fruit!”

“Aren’t you a fruit though?”

“Well- I-”

As he’s questioning his sexuality, you go back to picking your apples. You do try to make sure your boyfriend doesn’t become the new Isaac Newton and get bonked with an apple, especially since if he gets hit and loses balance, you’re most likely to be the first to suffer those consequences.

“Alright, I think I got enough for a few pies. You can put me down now.”

“Nope. Criminals get put in air jail.”

“Criminal!? What are the charges?”

“Being too cute, pióg úll.”

“I’m innocent! Innocent of all charges!”

“Furt’er investigation will be needed before yer innocence can be proved. Currently, t’ere’s lots of evidence provin’ yer guilt.”

“I’ve been framed!”

The two of you end up laughing as he walks back to the main counter to pay for the apples. From up on his shoulders you can see the tops of the trees. Although that’s not particularly impressive considering they’re purposefully pruned to be reachable with the ladders they have on hand. But it is rather pretty being able to see how many apples are truly in the orchard.

“See anyt’in’ up t’ere, short-stack?”

“Not much, but I can smell your bullshit.”

“Haha, very funny.”

Jackie pays for the apples, tossing you off his shoulders so he can catch you in his arms like the hero he is. You think you’d be used to this, but he never warns you, and you still scream every time. And you know he enjoys not warning you purely for the reactions you give.

“Hey t’ere, sweetheart.”

“Bitch.”

He cackles as he sets you down, dusting off your shoulders and gives a kiss to your cheek. You scoop up your bag of apples, begrudgingly taking his hand as he walks you back to his truck. He stashes the apples in the backseat, but picks you up and sets you in the bed, which he hops up into as well.

“Jackie. Why.”

“Because I love ye.”

He pulls you against his side, kissing your head as he gets you comfortable. You sigh, relenting to the truck bed cuddles.

“Was picking apples all that bad?”

“Not really. But I don’t t’ink most men would have complained havin’ t’eir head crushed between t’eir partner’s t’ighs.”

“JACKIE-”

“Kidding! But no, I’m never gonna complain about goin’ on a date wit’ ye.”

“I hope not. It’s almost like you like me or something.”

“Allegedly.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, admiring the view with him, as much of a pill as he is.

#jackieboy man #jse jackieboy man #jackieboy man x reader #jse jackieboy man x reader #septic egos #jse egos #comic escapee #chaoswrites

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whumpcereal · 2 years ago

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the kennel, part fifteen

part of the kennel (masterlist here). follows this piece directly. not copy edited quite as stringently as normal, but i really wanted to put it up before i went out.

content warnings for: aftermath of noncon, references to filmed whump, breeding, mouth whump, human trafficking, and murder, extreme pet whump, extreme dehumanization, forced nudity, brief suicidal ideation

part fifteen, something like relief

The others see when Doc carries the black-collared mutt out of the pole barn.

Some watch through glassy eyes, and they don’t think anything of it, because months in Doc’s care have silenced their thoughts completely. They might have cared when they were people, but they aren’t people anymore.

Some see the smears of blood on the boy’s naked legs, and they look away, because they remember when it happened to them. They know he’ll get used to it in time. They did.

Others notice the ways the boy has changed since Doc brought him here. The way his softness has started to give way to hard sinew and bone. The way he has started to disappear. They look down at bodies that used to feel human, and they turn away from the boy’s dangling limbs because it hurts too much to consider all the ways they’ve changed too.

And then there are those that watch, unflinching. A big man whose teeth have been taken from him one by one, because, when Doc gets around to it, those teeth will be replaced with filed metal implants, so that the newly christened fighter will have an advantage in the ring. A woman in a pink collar with low-hanging dugs, who’s carrying her fifth pup. They were both black collars once too. Collateral who came with merchandise that Doc wanted more.

A few months ago, the man’s lover was sold to a businessman in Oman; they will never see each other again. The man bit Doc’s leg after, tried to shred the fucker’s Achilles’ tendon; Doc only smiled and went for the pliers. Complimented the man on his fight.

Years ago, Doc put the woman’s husband down for trying to protect her; he gave her daughter to a man in a blue and white pick-up truck, told the woman it was one of the highest prices he’d ever gotten, that maybe he knew what to do with her after all. She doesn’t look at the babies when she nurses. It doesn’t matter that they’re taken from her so soon; she knows she isn’t really their mother.

These two watch the mutt with casual interest. Maybe the boy has just secured his place. Good for him. It is easier to accept what’s coming, when you know what it might be.

No one thinks of the blonde-haired boy who came in with the mutt. It wasn’t hard to figure out what Doc was going to use that one for, and once they go in the pole barn, they don’t usually come out again. Or, when they do, it’s in an airmail crate.

The rescues watch, but they don’t; they remember, but they don’t; they care, but they don’t. They shiver in the cold and wait to be put back in the cages that they never could have anticipated would become theirs.

Annie watches too, from her place at the edge of the yard. Her chest feels tight when she sees the way Will’s head bobbles backward from the crook of her father’s arm. When she sees Doc stalk back to the pole barn a few minutes later, she decides: she will clear the yard, get everyone inside, make sure they’re fed and warm. And then, she will see about Will. She knows that her father will be busy for a while.

- - -

Will is half-conscious when Annie finds him. He’s been half-conscious for a while, actually, though he still isn’t sure exactly what happened.

Well, that’s not really true. He knows what happened.

Will thinks of the grapefruit spoons that were in the silverware drawer when his mother still lived with them. The bowl of each spoon was lined with razor sharp teeth, so you could dig into the fruit and peel the bitter flesh from the rind.

She took the spoons with her when she left. Because the fucking spoons were worth keeping.

Will feels like his insides have been scraped with one of those grapefruit spoons. His flesh has been peeled from its rind and pulled out of him. His insides burn like citrus juice in a cut, sharp and stinging. And he aches. The most remote parts of him ache with a kind of raw pain he didn’t know a person could feel on the inside, at least not literally. A bruise on top of a bruise on top of a bruise.

He’s never hurt this way before. And distantly, he knows it could be worse. Because he’s almost certain it was Tommy who—

It was Tommy. Will knows it was. He’s been half-conscious for a while, after all.

Tommy tried to be gentle. Will knows it. It doesn’t make it better. Nothing will ever make it better.

When Will hears the door, he opens his eyes. He expects to be spread on the floor of the glass box, Doc leering over him, and Tommy sobbing in the corner. But Will isn’t in the glass box at all. He’s on his back on the wax-papered exam table, and standing over him, a cloth and basin in her arms, is Annie.

“Hi,” she whispers. He can tell by the look on her face that he is absolute fucking road kill.

Oh, fucking hell. Will flushes with embarrassment. This is just what he fucking needs. His best friend’s cum on his face and stuck to his thighs, and a beautiful girl right next to him. Fanfuckingtastic. For just a second, he wonders what Jessie would say about him now, but he tries to push the thought away before it can take root. He’ll never see Jessie again. It doesn’t matter what she’d say.

But Annie’s eyes are heavy on Will’s face, and he wishes they were not. He looks away, trying hard to hide the tears that have crept back into his eyes. It’s only then that he realizes the stupid gag is still in his mouth; a metal piece digs into his cheek when it hits the table.

That hurts too. His mouth. His jaw. His throat, inside and out. He screamed himself raw, that’s for certain, but the collar–Jesus, he can smell the burnt skin.

“Will?” Annie’s voice is timid. “I–I’m so sorry.”

Will doesn’t even pretend he can answer her. He squeezes his eyes shut again, pressing tears out from under his eyelids. They streak down his filthy face. Just one more thing to wipe away. He’s assuming that’s what Annie’s here for. To clean him up and put him back in his cage.

God, Will wouldn’t care if he never leaves the cage again after this. Fucking throw away the key. So long as he never has to do that again.

There are soft fingers at the clasp of the gag, and even though Will knows they belong to Annie, he jerks away from her touch. He doesn’t mean to–it just happens. He curls onto his side, cradling his mitts to his beating chest. He only just remembers to stifle his whine. He doesn’t want to know what it would feel like to shock the open wounds on his neck.

Annie pulls away. “I’m sorry! I just–please? Please, let me help you.”

Will stills, forcing his breath through his nose. He doesn’t move and, for a moment, neither does Annie. Then, she reaches for the buckle at the back of his head, and Will almost sobs when he feels the gag give way. The leather doesn’t fall away–it’s stuck to his skin with Tommy–and Annie gently pries it up. Will doesn’t want to think about what she’s touching, doesn’t want to be touched, but he’s relieved when the pressure on his jaw finally eases. His mouth hangs open, but he isn’t sure he knows how to close it; he’s almost afraid to try.

“There you go,” Annie murmurs. Her fingertips lightly hover over the shell of Will’s ear, but they do not stay. “Doc’s with your friend. I thought–I thought I’d clean you up. That maybe you’d like it better if I did it than if he did.”

Like. Will doesn’t like anything about this. And there is no better. There is only just as bad or worse.

But he supposes she’s right.

“He’s with your friend now,” Annie says, “so we have time.”

There’s a stab of panic in Will’s gut. If Doc is with Tommy, then–

Well, they’re even then, aren’t they?

It’s a horrible thought, because Will is a horrible person. No, not even a person. A mutt. A worthless mutt. If he were a good boy, like Tommy, he wouldn’t think shit like that. He’d know that Tommy didn’t want it to happen, and that Tommy doesn’t deserve to feel the way Will is feeling just now. Tommy is better than he is. Tommy deserves better.

Will’s the one who’s got no pedigree. He never has. He won’t, now.

But fuck if it doesn’t seem fair.

There’s a gentle pitter of water in the basin as Annie wrings out her cloth. When she draws close again, she gasps.

“Your throat,” she says, her voice trembling. Her touch ghosts just below the collar’s band, and Will hisses through his teeth; it stings like a bitch. “You must have–oh, no. Oh, God.”

So, it’s not cute, he guesses.

“We have to get this off.”

For a second, Will wants to protest. If Annie takes Will’s collar off, Doc will be mad, and he sure as shit isn’t going to punish Annie for that. At least, Will hopes he wouldn’t. He’s not sure why he cares. This girl–she’s part of all of this, isn’t she?

But she isn’t. Not really. She doesn’t have a choice. Will wouldn’t have chosen the father he got either. And his mother certainly didn’t choose him. Family isn’t a choice at all.

Annie leaves him, and he stays curled up on the table, because where the fuck else is he going to go? He doesn’t know where she’s gone, but she’s gone for a little while. Will closes his eyes, but still, his eyelids crinkle against the bright overhead light.

He used to sleep with the light on, after Mom left. Everything was scarier without her, because when she was there, Will wasn’t allowed to be scared. She’d yell at him, tell him he was being a baby, that he was a big boy and he should be braver. So he’d tried. For her. He’d tried to be brave.

But Will wasn’t brave. He would lie awake in the dark, hot tears squeezing from his eyes as he listened to them fight. Dad would plead, and Mom would scream, and Will would cry, because he wasn’t brave at all.

When she was gone, Dad never said anything about the light. Dad never said much about anything.

For just a second, Will wonders what Dad would say about this. But he pushes the thought away just as quickly as it came; he’ll never see his father again, so there’s no point in wondering what he’d think. It’s probably easier if Dad never knows any of this. If he never knows what Will’s been made into.

Will’s a disappointment, just like his mother.He was never going to be anything else.

Annie’s steps are so soft when she comes back that Will doesn’t realize she’s there until he feels the cool metal of keys against the back of his neck.

The buckle of his collar opens, and Annie gently pulls the canvas away from Will’s weeping skin. Some of his skin sticks, tearing away with the collar, and out of habit, he grinds his teeth together to keep from crying out.

Well, that’s one way to figure out he can close his mouth.

Annie freezes. “I’m sorry!”

But it doesn’t help. She has to keep going, has to take the collar all the way off, even if his skin comes with it. Who the fuck cares anyway? Just now, Will would shed all his skin if he could. He would let Annie peel it away piece by soiled piece if he thought it would do any good.

But it’s inside him too. The hurt. Tommy. And that, no one can ever strip away.

“You can cry,” Annie says, and she is crying too.

But Will doesn’t cry. He forces his tears to stay put, and he doesn’t say a word, even as Annie lays the collar at the end of the table. He won’t give Doc another reason to hurt him. He has to be a good boy. He has to earn his place.

He has to live, even if he doesn’t want to. He’s not foolish enough to think that Doc would let him die a minute before Doc’s decided he can. No one who traffics in this kind of human suffering is going to be merciful.

“I didn’t think–” Annie whispers, and even through the blurry pall of his tears, Will can see her hands shaking, “--I didn’t think he would take you out there. The ones in the doghouse, he–well, they’re usually alone. He doesn’t–this isn’t–I don’t–I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Will doesn’t answer. He wants to believe that she is sorry, but all the same, she knows. She knows what goes on out there, what’s been done to people like Tommy for God knows how long, even if she didn’t know it would happen to Will. She knows, and what’s she done about it? Fucking nothing. Nothing at all.

But she’s here now, and she’s trying, whatever it’s worth.

She’s trying for him.

Will closes his eyes. It isn’t true. He’s just so fucking pathetic that even a girl who’s seen shit like this her whole life pities him. And he’s not stupid. He’s ruined. In the unlikely event he’s ever free again, he’ll never be free of what he is now. There won’t be love. Just fucking pity.

And who cares if she’s trying? Who cares if anyone ever tries? He doesn’t think he’ll ever want to be touched again.

But somehow, even that’s not true. He wants Annie to wrap him in her arms and hold him, even though he doesn’t.

Christ on a bike.

“I’m sorry,” she says again. “Will?”

Will flinches at the sound of his name. He suddenly wishes Annie didn’t know it at all. He can feel her eyes moving over every inch of his marked-up, soiled, fucking wrecked body, and he doesn’t want her to look. He doesn’t want her to look, and at the same time, he’s glad someone knows. That someone cares.

“I have to clean you up, okay?” Annie’s little fingers push Will’s sweaty hair away from his forehead. He winces, and Annie withdraws, just as quickly as if she’d been burned. “It might–it might hurt a little.”

Will huffs out a bitter, noiseless laugh. What the fuck does he care if it hurts? Doesn’t everything? Won’t it always? He squeezes his eyes shut again, and his tears mingle with the sticky remnants of Tommy still pasted to his cheeks.

“Okay,” Annie whispers.

Will hears the slosh of the rag in the bucket, and then, Annie’s hand slips beneath his head, lifting it in a gentle cradle.

The rag is warm against his cheek, and Annie’s touch is sure, even if her hands are shaking. She scrubs soft circles over his face, cleaning his cheeks, his lips, his chin. His skin doesn’t feel quite so tight or sticky, even if it doesn’t really feel clean; he’s not sure he’ll ever feel clean again.

Annie lays his head back down and drops the rag back in the basin, and then her fingers are at the hinge of his aching jaw, circling, massaging, easing the tension left over from the gag. Will groans before he can stop himself, and he braces for the snap of electricity against his throat. It doesn’t come.

Of course it doesn’t, because Annie took off the fucking collar. Fucking genius.

“It’s okay,” she says. Her thumb moves gently over his jawbone. “Just–whatever you want to say–please, say it. You’re safe.”

He isn’t safe. But he can pretend, just for a little while. Before it happens all over again. Because it will. He knows it will.

“Th-thank you,” he whispers. He doesn’t know exactly what he’s thanking her for, and his voice sounds like his throat is made of fucking swiss cheese, but it’s there. He’s there. There are still small mercies to be grateful for.

Annie bends down and kisses his forehead, quick as a wink. Her cheeks are red when she snaps up again, and she turns back to the basin before Will can say anything else. “You’re welcome.”

Even as the rag touches his raw throat, Will thinks it might not hurt so bad. Not just now.

Or at least, he can pretend that it doesn’t. It’s something like relief.

taglist: @darkthingshappen, @oddsconvert, @sparrowsage, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @highwaywhump, @squishablesunbeam, @hold-him-down, @whumpsday, @sowhumpful, @termsnconditions-apply, @honey-is-mesi, @irishwhiskeygrl, @deltaxxk, @d-cs, @whumpinggrounds, @canislycaon24, @considerablecolors, @starlit-darkness, @scp-1296, @flowersarefreetherapy, @morning-star-whump, @whumpwhittler, @susiequaz12, @whumptakesthecake, @whump-world, @hiding-in-the-shadows

#the kennel #will cartwright oc #annie barker oc #doc barker oc #tw noncon mention #whump #whump writing #heed all warnings

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horizon-verizon · 1 year ago

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I’d also add the show completely wrote off Rhaenyra’s misery in regards to her first marriage. Viserys doesn’t marry Laena, he choose love over duty, now his daughter has to pay for HIS mistakes. Viserys forced her and threatened her to disowned her if she didn’t go along with it. Laenor being by her side doing childbirth was him keeping appearances, not him being bffs.

Rhaenyra also never got to name her first children. Jacaerys and Lucerys aren’t traditional Targaryen names, Corlys named them, and Laenor named Joffrey after his lover. Her husband and father-in-law made those decisions and it’s quite tragic. It’s impossible not to feel bad for Rhaenyra for not being allowed to name her own children.

*EDITED POST* (12/2/23)

You: "Laenor being by her side doing childbirth was him keeping appearances, not him being bffs."

That's a very different take than what I'm used to hearing, and I can see how one could think this PLUS I agree to a certain extent.

This is the account of their marriage ("A Question of Succession"):

On the one hand, he must live with the knowledge that his sexuality is just tolerated and he has to nevertheless hide his lovers, unlike a straight lord who could openly go around with their female mistress. Still, he's seen as having "unnatural" urges, or at least desires that are deviant from the "normal" ones. Not quite the man Westerosi wants to exist. There's always a lingering pressure or compulsion to be ashamed of that. Laenor can also go anywhere he pleases without having to look over their kids as much as Rhaenyra would be expected to even as a noblewoman/royal. And yes, all her first 3 kids' names are either traditionally Velaryon or names she herself, independently, would not have likely chosen.

I think that Laenor AND Rhaenyra still had a better shot together than most other people or option of partners (except Daemon & maybe Harwin, and for Laenor of course any man he may desire) in that balance of political-emotional needs. He was not imposing on her and that in itself is supportive of her authority as heir. She didn't restrain him with that power as she technically could have. And he showed up when he was most needed, whereas I don't know if another nobleman would be willing to (even the gay ones, men with aristocratic power can still be men with entitlements, as modern gay men can still be very misogynist against women [Bebe Rexha; those men who just touch a woman's breasts, butt, etc "just bc they are not attracted"; those who criticize a woman for not being "glamorous enough" as if the woman/women need to be aesthetically pleasing 24/7 to be considered worthy enough to be admired or supported, celebrity or ordinary woman]). Again, except Harwin & Daemon. This might be the bare minimum to us, but with our knowledge of how men frequently do not meet the bare minimum AND how Rhaenyra just needs certain things to go right, it is a--not quite a "success" story so much as "could have been worse" story--for her to be married to Laenor of all people. Unfortunately, that is how the system failed her and him, and she had to meet the needs of her circumstances at some level or lose her agency and whatever power she could/did have. At the same time, yes, there could still be a lot of bitterness for this "bare minimum" being all they have plus Laenor being too distant.

We don't know for sure 100% that Corlys wasn't the one to order and put more pressure on Laenor to be with Rhaenyra at the times when he was most needed, but from how Laenor refused to pretend he & Rhaenyra were a "normal couple" outside of those events, I think he independently and willingly wanted to help her out, loved their kids, and did spend some noncourt time with her but that is was as uncommon as the ice cream truck coming into one's neighborhood until years (6) later when his kids are in danger.

Going back to her kids' names, I think that it is pretty sad that she couldn't give her kids' Targ names not because she had to use the Velaryons for herself and those kids' futures. Even if she married some hypothetical Targ, she'd at least have kids w/Targ names. And if she married anyone else, it's likely that she'd have Andal names for them because it's usually the husband who names the kids from all the times I've seen it mentioned in ASoIaF/F&B/AWoIaF. Therefore, I think that for all noblewomen (we don't know the case for commonborn people), it's sad how they don't usually get to name their own children. Perhaps some do participate in the naming process and deliberation, but again, that's not mentioned.

At the same time, it's also possible that Rhaenyra advocated for Laenor to name their last child after his dead lover, bc I know Corlys would have tried to push for naming Joffrey a Velaryon name. It's possible that after Laenor helped her out, she decided to give him this, which honestly is still generous of her. But, again, I can't be 100% sure.

HOWEVER, yes Rhaenyra was more unhappy with her marriage to Laenor and the whole thing was indicative of her lack of enough control. And none of this means they were bosom friends, there's just too much of that forcedness and Laenor's absences for that to occur.

#asoiaf asks to me #rhaenyra and laenor #rhaenyra targaryen #laenor velaryon #fire and blood characters #hotd characterization #book vs tv comparisons #asoiaf

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mrsreginagold · 7 months ago

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Fic: Now I Need Another Taste

Fandom: Nikita

Pairing: Ari Tasarov x Nikita Mears (Nikari)

Rating: R

Spoilers: Takes place during an alternate version of “The Life We’ve Chosen”. Events in the episode have been shuffled around for the purposes of this fic. Notably – Ari doesn’t have the kill chip, and the incident in which he saves Owen’s life happens earlier. Nikita is not engaged to Michael.

Summary: Nikita just can’t take Ari’s reasoning at face value.

Author’s note: I consider every piece I write for this pair self-indulgent but this one in particular throws the realism out the window rather quickly. I wanted a better outcome where Ari is concerned and at the end of the day giving my OTP a happy ending won out over trying to reconcile with canon.

On AO3

Now I Need Another Taste

There was a substantial chill in the night air, a breeze whipping past Nikita Mears’ cheek strong enough to turn her skin red, and yet – the former assassin paid it little mind.

Her thoughts were preoccupied with the conversation that had just occurred with Ari Tasarov, specifically his declaration that he was certain that he would die on this excursion.

The ultimatum weighed heavily in her heart. Despite their checkered past, there had always been a healthy respect between them (not to mention a palpable attraction that had resurfaced once they were in close quarters).

The past few weeks in particular had opened her eyes to the kindness that Ari possessed. While his captivity had gotten off to an understandably rocky start, he had proven useful and served as a capably ally.

Additionally: the feelings that had not been given a chance before had begun to blossom. On more than one occasion, she had nearly given in to the urge to kiss him, and she could tell that he was aware of this.

Hell, the look he had given her before he had climbed back into the truck-bed for warmth had been downright inviting, as if he were deliberately tempting her to follow.

Irritation bubbled up within her. Oh, how dare he. The bastard is trying to rile me up.

Nikita shoved back the tarp covering their mode of transportation with a scowl, and then clambered inside, startling her companion when she plopped down on the bench beside him.

Ari tilted his head curiously. “You seem angry.”

“I have reason to be, because you’re being defeatist and I’m not about to stand for it.”

Perceptive eyes the color of the sea glittered with amusement. “Are you now?”

“Look,” she grasped his hands within hers, privately noting that they were quite warm thanks to him not being out in the cold. “I know you’re trying to be realistic, but that’s no reason to lose hope.”

A dry chuckle escaped him, and he shook his head. “Ah. You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“No, Ari I…” she sighed and let go of him so she could run her fingers carelessly through her hair, upsetting the neat bun that it was in. “I just don’t understand why you’re so at peace with the potential of dying. Surely you have something out there to live for.”

He fell silent, and she couldn’t bear to look at him, fearful of how desolate the expression on his attractive features would be.

“Actually,” his hand moved back over hers. “There is something. Or rather – someone. But she doesn’t feel the same way.”

Slowly, she turned towards him, her heart rate accelerating rapidly when she recognized the longing in his gaze.

“I realize that it can never be, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’ve fallen completely, irrevocably in love with you, Nikita.”

Her lips parted to admonish him for thinking there wasn’t a chance, but she couldn’t make a sound when his other hand moved up to caress along the side of her face, his touch light, fleeting, and impossibly gentle.

A forlorn smile crossed his handsome face. “At least now you know.”

Ah, to hell with it. If she was his reason, then a reason she would be.

Without preamble, she grasped wildly at the collar of his overcoat, yanking him to her and claiming his mouth with her own.

Nikita felt Ari freeze under her hands for a moment, before he melted willingly into the embrace, his arms curling around her to keep her close as the kiss deepened.

Relief coursed through her, a happy sigh emerging while she carded her hands through his hair and nipped teasingly at his lips.

His mouth was soft against her own, his ministrations tender, and yet there was such passion in every response. If it hadn’t been crystal clear before that he wanted her, she was certain of it the second she managed to crawl onto his lap and his desire for her became evident against her thigh.

She pulled back for air, nuzzling her nose to his and grinning. “Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

He blinked incredulously at her. “How long have you waited to use that line?”

She laughed, draping her arms around his neck. “A while. We have some blankets if you want to get more comfortable.”

“Nikita,” he drew out each syllable of her name, which prompted a shiver to ease up her spine that had nothing to do with the chilly weather. “Are you actually suggesting that we make love back here?”

“Technically you did.” She leaned in, worrying his lower lip between her teeth. “And to be honest, it’s mainly because I’ve been dying to get you out of these clothes. Once this mission is over: I’m insisting that the company buy you a new wardrobe.”

He managed, somehow, to lift and carry her over to a more open space, which wasn’t exactly an easy feat. “I thought you liked the jacket.”

“I like it better on the floor,” she mumbled, shoving it down his broad shoulders.

“Fine, then it’s getting used as a bed,” he tugged his arms free, the fabric whispering to the ground behind him. He then spun her around while unzipping her overcoat. “Yours too.”

She compliantly shrugged out of the garment, allowing it to join his, and then reached to the side to grab a pile of blankets from where they lay on the bench.

With a nest spread out, they took to task – removing shoes and his suit jacket next.

She was grateful he had forgone a tie, her fingers eagerly seeking out the buttons to his shirt, popping them free one-by-one until it lay open over his chest.

Not to be outdone, he lifted her sweater over her head.

The cool air filtering in through the small gaps in the tarp caused gooseflesh to prickle at Nikita’s now exposed arms. A thin, silky camisole was all that remained covering her chest, and she noticed just how appraising Ari’s gaze became as it raked across her.

He slipped out of his button down, left in a thin cotton undershirt which provided little to the imagination regarding the toned build he possessed beneath. “May I?” he plucked at the hem of her negligee.

She nodded rapidly and raised her arms so he could pull it up off her body. The cold was no longer as effective now that a molten heat had settled at her core, and she reached insistently for his tee so she could return the favor.

This was the next item to be cast aside, and then her hands delved to explore the sculpted muscle that made up his chest and abdomen.

The pair embraced lovingly, losing themselves to the sensation of bare skin finally touching.

Nikita moaned, arching instinctively against Ari’s tall, lean form, fumbling blindly with his belt in her determination to get him naked as quickly as was physically possible.

“Hold on,” he muttered, helping, and then turning his attention to what remained of her clothing.

She hastily took her hair down, allowing the dark strands to wave naturally around her face.

When there were no more barriers: they lunged in unison and then toppled back together onto the makeshift bed.

His lips immediately strayed to her throat while his hands pinned hers to the blankets, that clever tongue swirling over her clavicle before his attention veered lower.

She slid one leg against his before hitching it across his hip, drawing their entangled bodies even closer together.

Ultimately, she no longer cared if they were discovered, because hell would freeze over before she let this man be interrupted in the magic he was weaving with his hands and mouth.

Nikita cried out when he latched onto her breast, teeth scraping lightly over sensitized flesh, which made her rake her nails across his beautifully toned torso in retaliation.

Undeterred, Ari continued, worshipping every possible inch of her until she could handle it no longer and arced her hips up in an invitation he wasted no time in taking.

His gaze found hers right after they joined, time seeming to still before he started them off in a steady, even pace.

She anchored them, her legs coiling further around his waist, surging up to taste the moisture that had gathered at his Adam’s Apple and delighting in the low, guttural sound that her action caused.

His hands weaved into her hair as their mouths met over and over in a mirror of their entwined forms.

She grasped at his back, leaving half-moon indents when their movements lost grace and turned primal.

He slowed just as they reached their pinnacle, kissing her soundly to muffle their shared cries when they fell, complete in every sense of the word.

Though her lust had died down some time ago, Nikita was perfectly happy to languish in the haze of afterglow.

While they recuperated, she brushed her fingers slowly through Ari’s mussed hair, reveling in the silken texture of the brown strands touched with hints of silver, which he had slowly grown out due to his time on the run.

His head was pillowed upon her chest, his heartbeat a steady, strong thrum upon her skin while he basked in their peaceful moment. “I know it doesn’t need saying – but thank you.”

“For?” she grazed her mouth over his temple, sighing contentedly.

“For giving me a reason to keep fighting.” He shifted in order to peer down at her, the sincere affection in his gaze causing her breath to catch.

She wanted moments like this one to last for as long as possible – where nothing mattered except the man holding her as though she was the most valuable thing in existence.

“I love you,” she framed his face between her hands, initiating a feverish kiss that conveyed what words couldn’t.

“I love you too,” he gladly returned the embrace.

They sank back together, exchanging lazy yet heated kisses until she pulled away to regain her breath. “That settles it. You aren’t leaving me any time soon. We’ll think of another way to accomplish the trade with Amanda.”

“What we need is a proper plan.” He mumbled against her neck, his lips dancing along her skin.

“I’m open to suggestions,” she tipped her head back, granting him better access to the column of her throat.

His strikingly handsome features loomed suddenly into her vision, a grin that could only be described as mischievous crossing his mouth. “We could trade Owen instead.”

“Ari!” she slapped at his arm, trying not to giggle, and failing miserably when his expression only brightened. “That’s terrible.”

“You said give suggestions. That’s my suggestion.” He shrugged.

“We could always traumatize Amanda,” a third voice suddenly interjected, causing the lovers to peer, horrified, towards the back of the hold.

Owen Elliot stood in a gap created by the tarp, his phone held up to capture, well, them.

With an undignified shriek, Nikita grabbed the nearest object: her boot, as it happened, and lobbed it at her friend’s head. “How long have you been over there?!”

“Long enough to know that Tasarov has skills.”

For once, Ari didn’t bother with a comeback. He pinched his temple and groaned. “I repeat. We trade him instead.”

“Look, I’m not rushing you, but I gotta get this thing on the road again, so it would probably be a good idea to get dressed.” Owen suggested. He then pulled the tarp fully shut so they had proper privacy.

Reluctantly, they parted in order to gather up their clothing.

“We’ll have to confiscate his phone before we reach our destination to ensure that whatever he’s got on there is deleted,” Ari mentioned.

“I’d never hear the end of it if that ended up on Division’s permanent files,” Nikita grumbled, pulling her lover’s shirt on over her camisole, and then throwing her sweater on top of it.

“…you know, eventually I’m going to need that back,” he gestured, mostly dressed now in his suit, though without the button-down on under the jacket, the look was far more casual.

“Tough luck. It’s mine now. Another reason you can’t leave me today.” Her tone was playful as she walked over to help him with the gray overcoat.

The truck moved suddenly, making her lose her balance and partially stumble into his waiting arms.

“Careful,” he caught her gracefully and held her close.

“That was Owen’s fault for being a horrible driver,” she stated.

“Hey!” their companion’s tone was indignant. “I’m not the one who decided to have a quicky in the back!”

Ari guided his love over to the bench so they could sit for the remainder of the ride. “You’d do better to pay attention to the road, Mr. Elliot.”

Exasperated, Nikita added: “Owen, stop eavesdropping and throw your phone back here so I can erase whatever blackmail material you caught of us.”

“I didn’t actually record you, I just wanted to see the looks on your faces when you thought I had. Come on Nikki, you know I’d never do that to you.”

Ari quirked a skeptical brow.

“Nevertheless, give me your phone. I need to check in with Birkoff. Maybe he can come up with something in lieu of trading my boyfriend,” Nikita ordered.

There was a quiet shuffle at her side, and she looked over to see that Ari was smiling. “So, I’m the boyfriend now?”

“Well, I usually don’t go that far on a first date but given how we’d been dancing around each other for a couple years; I think we can skip ahead a bit,” she admitted, blushing in spite of the fact that they had been naked and consumed by each other not very long ago.

“I should get you two a “congrats on the sex” cake.” Owen chortled.

Nikita exchanged an irritated look with her lover before she excused herself to climb into the front to grab the phone and give their friend a slap upside the head for good measure.

After a brief check-in with Seymour Birkoff yielded no results on the plan front, Nikita sank onto the bench next to Ari, her shoulders drooping in defeat. “Back to square one.”

Her companion draped an arm across her back to tug her against his side, his brow furrowing in thought before he called out. “Owen, you mentioned earlier that we should traumatize Amanda. What exactly did you mean by that?”

“Easy. You act like you’re married.”

Nikita blinked rapidly, utter confusion crossing her lovely face. “I don’t follow.”

“We all know that Amanda is obsessed with you, right?” Owen elaborated. “She thinks of you as a surrogate daughter. And Ari, you’re her ex. How do you think she’d react to the ones who got away from her getting a happy ending together?”

“How the hell would we even pull off a fake marriage in the few hours we have till we reach the meeting place?” Ari queried. “She’s going to want proof. A certificate. Something.”

“As it happens…since we’re in neutral territory and technically the two of you consummated your union: you’re already considered hitched. You’d just need to print up and fill out a license. And as a bonus, it would offer Ari an out. Since you’re his wife, Amanda can’t just up and take him.”

“…am I imagining things, or did Owen actually make sense?” Nikita could barely believe what she was hearing.

“Evidently, miracles do happen,” Ari joked.

“I’m telling you: this is the best way to get what everyone wants. Besides, you can think of it as a practice run for when you’ll want to make it official someday.” Owen stated, glancing back at the two of them in the rearview mirror.

They shared a meaningful look, Ari curling his fingers beneath Nikita’s chin. “What do you think, my love? Should we?”

“It might be inventive enough to actually work,” she tilted her head back to stare into the ocean of his gaze. “And any win we can lord over her head is worth it.”

He smiled warmly, and then peered down at his pinky where a simple silver ring he tended to wear lay.

“It’s not much, but…” he slid it off and grasped her left hand in his, placing it carefully on her ring finger seconds later. “It’ll do for now.”

The piece of jewelry fit perfectly, which only solidified the plan in Nikita’s mind.

Gratefully, she pulled her beloved into an affectionate kiss, proving the depth of her feelings and infused with hope for their future.

Given the manner in which he responded: it was clear that he intended to keep to this new promise.

The End

#nikari #ari x nikita #mine #mrsreginagold #fanfiction #ari tasarov #nikita mears #peter outerbridge #otp: enemy mine #otp: this is the life we've chosen #*crosses off yet another instance where these two should just have made out already off her checklist*#nikita 2010

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chasseurdeloup · 1 year ago

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Pillow Talk || Anita and Kaden

TIMING: Before Metzli had a menty b LOCATION: Mansión Mexicana PARTIES: @gossipsnake and @chasseurdeloup CONTENT WARNINGS: None SUMMARY: Kaden goes to pick up the mattress from Anita.

Charitable really wasn’t a word that was often used to describe Anita. She liked to see herself as fairly charitable, though. After all, she could kill far more humans than she actually did. Instead, she showed relative restraint. Quite charitable. Beyond that, however, she typically had no interest in helping strangers. There had been something about the very depressing way in which this Kaden guy asked for tips on how to make his couch more comfortable to sleep on that sparked the slightest sliver of kindness within herself. While the wheels had not been set in motion yet, she had already planned to give her roommate access to one of the guest rooms to redesign as they saw fit. It seemed only fair, given how long they had been living together and how little of the home was their own space.

So, it was good timing that this poor sad stranger needed a bed and that Anita seemed to read his obvious cry for help while feeling particularly generous. She had sent him her home address, figuring that if he was a weirdo who wanted to kill her she could just kill him first. It had been a dreary rainy day and Anita wasn’t about to just wait around for this stranger to arrive so she decided to spend the day cleaning and rearranging her terrariums. As she usually did when she was home alone - she did so in her true form, in her lamia form.

This was probably a stupid idea. Kaden had a lot of those lately. He was already exhausted just from getting in his fucking truck and driving over to the address she gave him. And he hadn’t even looked at that mattress, let alone tried to haul it.

Putain de merde, if he popped a stitch Regan was going to scream. He had a feeling that she would just know somehow the second it happened and he’d hear it all the way from across town.

Well, guess he’d have to try and be some kind of careful. He grimaced as he swung out of his truck, his hand clutching his side as he stood up. He took a deep breath, steadied himself. He could manage this. He wasn’t even dizzy by the time he made it to the door. This was fine.

He was about to knock on the door, but his hand hovered, hesitating as he felt a shiver down his spine. Putain de merde. A shifter was nearby, and if he had to guess, they were inside the house, considering he only picked up on it standing there on the porch. Kaden considered turning around and going home, he wasn’t sure he was prepared to potentially come face to face with the werewolf who did this to him on the off chance that was who offered him the mattress. No, that was stupid. It would be alright, he’d just get the mattress and leave. He knocked on the door and waited to see who was going to greet him once it opened.

The knock came at a perfect moment, as Anita had just finished feeding one of the many snakes she had living in her home. Sure, they were small and insignificant, but the reptiles always seemed to be able to sense her familiarity and they were far better companions than the yappy dog her roommate let run around the house. Whoever was at her door was human, the red heat of their body temperature certainly confirmed that. Quickly shifting back to a socially acceptable appearance and throwing on a t-shirt and jeans, she made her way through the sprawling mansion and downstairs.

As she pulled the door open, Anita took in the tall scruffy man before her who she presumed to be Kaden, here for the mattress. He looked worn and a bit distraught. That tracked, given what little information she knew about the man. “Honestly, you look exactly like the kind of guy who lives in a cabin without a mattress. Kudos for accurate self-advertising.” Leaving the door open behind her, Anita took a few steps into her house inviting him inside without saying the words.

“It doesn’t come with the bedding. You don’t need the bedding, do you?” Anita genuinely could not have cared less about the bedding, but she felt that she needed to keep talking and she was not about to be a “good host” and offer to procure a beverage for him.

His senses faded as he waited, all but gone when the door swung open. Kaden was starting to think he was imagining it. “Thanks,” he said flatly as he followed her inside. He winced as he started walking, hoping she didn’t see the pain written all over his face. She was judgemental enough as it was. And it had been about ten seconds. “It’s my cousins’ cabin so they got dibs on the mattresses.” He had a feeling none of it mattered to her. The house was huge, elaborate. She was clearly not the kind of person who would feel at home in the cabin even with a top of the line bed to sleep in. Her loss, as far as he was concerned.

“I figured,” he added, a few steps behind her despite his long legs. Stupid injury slowing him down. “I have a feeling we have different taste in bedding, anyway.” Honestly, he’d be fine sleeping on a bare mattress with no damn bedding of any sort. Which is why he usually went for the cheapest shit he could find at the store. It was also exactly what he planned to do once he had the mattress at home. “So is it upstairs or downstairs?”

Cousins, plural. It was interesting, given his accent Anita wondered if that was what brought him to town. It wasn’t interesting enough, however, for her to actually ask him about it. She really had no desire to engage in banal small talk. If he was content living in a cabin with multiple cousins and, to date, no bed, then that was his business.

Giving him a once over, Anita’s mouth turned to a slight frown and she shrugged, “You’re probably right about that.” If he weren't a human man perhaps she would have been more cordial, but he fell into her least favorite category of person. Absent an empty stomach - she really saw no need or use for him. “It’s not up or down, it’s on this level,” she responded, figuring that by downstairs he meant the basement. While she had noticed his soft grunts and obvious pain, Anita had been planning on ignoring it until she realized that it likely meant he would need assistance carrying the mattress. She sighed softly, “I take it neither of your cousins were free to help with mattress pick-up?”

Kaden tried not to look relieved when she said the mattress was on that level. Stairs only made the pain that much worse. Not that he wasn’t used to working past pain. Hell, that was probably half of hunter training. If not the majority.

“Good. Lead the way,” he said, gesturing as if he was just trying to take his time following rather than the truth of the matter which was that it hurt to move. “Yeah well someone had to go to work since I’m on leave at the moment,” he said with a shrug. Truth was he didn’t ask because he knew Andy would give him that look. The one that said “are you fucking kidding me you dumbass?” Which would be fair enough. Still, he wanted the damn mattress and he got the feeling Anita wasn’t the type to make room in her schedule for him or go out of her way to wait for him to pick it up in a week or two.

He glanced around as they walked (well, he limped) and noticed the decorations around the place. Skulls and bones lining shelves and various containers of different bugs. Interesting choice of decor. “Funny, I know someone who has a very similar taste in interior design. She works in the morgue.”

“Because you’ve injured yourself?” Anita wondered what type of job he did that prevented him from working while injured. It didn’t really narrow things down at all, since it essentially just ruled out office jobs. He seemed like the kind of person who worked with their hands, and not in a typing on a keyboard all day way. “Enough to not be able to work, but not so badly that you cannot transport a mattress.” It wasn’t really a question but she did find it interesting. He was either stubborn or stupid.

As they walked through the living room and down the hallway towards the spare bedroom, Anita toyed with the idea of just eating him. But then she recalled that her conversation online with him was public and would likely draw unwanted attention. “If you’re talking about the deeply dark and depressing decor and art… that’s my roommates.” She turned her head back as he mentioned the morgue, however, her interest suddenly piqued. Surely there were multiple people who worked at the local morgue, but she wondered if he knew the same very mysterious medical examiner that she did. “Quite an interesting place to work, I’m sure. What does your friend do there?”

“Very observant.” Kaden tried to keep the sarcasm to a minimum but it was hard to curb it entirely. “I’m animal control,” he added. “Pretty sure moving a mattress is a lot less dangerous than what I encounter daily on the job.” While that was true, that didn’t mean this was going to be easy. In fact, he had a feeling this was probably more than he could handle. Not that it was stopping him.

“Is it? Who’s your roommate?” He asked, brow raised. Maybe she was roommates with Regan? No, that didn’t seem right. Though it was macabre, it was a slightly different sort. Also he couldn’t imagine Regan trying to live with anyone. Not with how elusive she was. “Medical examiner,” he replied. “She helped patch me up, actually.” Why did he share that? Putain. There wasn’t any fucking reason to open the door to any real conversation here. He could tell she wasn’t in the mood.

“I am a scientist. We are known for our keen observational skills.” The response was laced with just slightly more sarcasm than the initial statement he had made. Though upon finishing her sentence, Anita tried to recall if she had mentioned her occupation in their conversations or if he seemed to be the type to google the person he was picking up a mattress from. She didn’t spend much thought on it, as her mind was now preoccupied with what he did for a living. “Animal control?” She didn’t quite know how she felt about that job. Sure, some animals needed to be controlled… but in a town like this one it made her wonder exactly what sort of animals he was in the business of trying to control. “Get too close to a mama bear or something?”

“Oh, I’m sure you don’t know them. They’re quite aloof usually - runs an art gallery downtown.” Anita normally wasn’t cagey about disclosing who her roommate was but she didn’t see the need in giving him any more information than that. While she hadn’t met the beautifully macabre medical examiner she had been speaking to online in person yet, Anita knew enough to think that she and Kaden were talking about the same one. It was curious though, as Regan didn’t exactly seem like the type to offer to patch up injured animal control workers - or, by her own assertions, have friends. “Think I might know her as well. Unless this town has two medical examiners with … similar taste in interior design.”

As they neared the end of the hallway, Anita turned to open one of the tall wooden doors. The guest room was modest, compared to the rest of the home, but still well decorated. It lacked any of the more unique art and trinkets from the main house, instead decorated with bright Mexican artwork and warm tones. If it had been used twice in the three years since the home was built that would be a lot. “So, this is it.”

“Something like that,” Kaden said with a shrug. Ow. Mistake. He’d have to remember to shrug with the other shoulder, keep from tugging at the sutures. “I was trying to contain a large, aggressive dog. I tranqed it but not fast enough.” Close enough to the truth, right? “Dog’s fine, by the way.” Alright, he wasn’t sure of that. He had no idea what happened to the werewolf in question, but he assumed it was alright. Shit. Maybe he should go out and check the area, just to be sure. Not like he could eavesdrop at the 3 daggers to try and figure it out. No one was going to brag about taking down a drugged werewolf. They weren’t likely to commit any details about its appearance to memory, either. They would only care if it was dead.

“Runs an art gallery?” Kaden raised a brow. There was exactly one of those that he had been to in town. Not that it was a big town, but it would be an interesting coincidence. “Is it the one with the good cheese? I think, uh, what was it, MuertArte?” It felt strange now to be in Metzli’s house without having known it. Now that she said it, though, it made sense. He could see some of the similarities in taste of some of the decor to that of the gallery’s, not that he could describe any of it. More got the same feeling if anything. “I know them. Not well but helped them get an aiva– I mean, a rooster out of the gallery at one of their openings.” Granted that made it clear enough that her roommate was decidedly not Regan. “Sounds like the same one. Dr. Kavanagh. She’s interesting, I’ll say that much.” She was certainly curious. There was no reason for him to want to pry into her secrets and foster any sort of relationship there, not when she pushed him away any time he hit a nerve, but something kept drawing him in.

And there it was. The mattress in question. The room was bright and inviting. Not his style (which he didn’t have much of, admittedly), but he wouldn’t hate staying there. He smiled as he noticed one of the blankets thrown over a chair in a corner of the room. “My, uh…” Putain, he did it again. He didn’t know if he should just say friend or what. What exactly was Monty to him? He didn’t know and he wasn’t going to figure that out now standing in this guest room to pick up a fucking mattress. This shit was too complicated. “Monty, he has a saddle blanket for his horse that looks just like that.”

Kaden pulled his arm across his chest and stretched his shoulder before swapping to the other. He rolled his shoulders back, stretched his neck, and tried to prepare himself for what would normally be an incredibly simple task. He decided to start by pushing the mattress off the bed frame. Bending down to reach it hurt like a bitch, but Kaden was determined to just grit his teeth and bear it. It’s not like he had to fight for his life while injured, he just had to carry a fucking mattress.

Large aggressive dog. It could go either way, Anita figured, as there was plenty of natural and supernatural wildlife around town and she couldn’t quite recall if there had been a full moon recently. “Oh, well thank goodness.” She didn’t want to come across as a total ass, so she quickly added, “That you’re both okay, relatively speaking.” Even if it had just been a wild dog, Anita would always root for the animal over the human trying to control it.

It wasn’t all that surprising that he could identify the art gallery - there weren’t many in town - but it was interesting that he claimed to know Metzli. Helped them… get rid of a rooster? Anita wasn’t sure what to make of that statement. If she knew her roommate, which she liked to think she did, she couldn’t really imagine that they would have needed assistance dealing with a simple rooster. Did he know more about them? Did he know what they were? “Oh? Can’t say I can speak to the quality of cheese they offer at their openings, but yes, that’s them. I’m sure they were quite thankful for your assistance with … the rooster.”

It made him knowing Regan more compelling as well. Anita had her suspicions about the very dedicated medical examiner, but those were things she would figure out for herself whenever they finally met - which she was sure would happen. “She was pretty adamant that she didn’t have time for friends. Guess you’re a lucky exception.” Why was he an exception? That was beyond her. Or maybe he wasn’t a friend, and she just felt bad that he had gotten attacked. Which, again, struck Anita as odd. “No need to go to a doctor with an on-the-job injury when you’ve got a friend who’s medically trained, I suppose.”

While Anita was, admittedly, far more curious as to who this man was and how involved he was in her community than she was when he first arrived, she still had no desire to let this interaction drag out too long. After they stepped into the guest room she began to take off the decorative pillows and pull down the blankets and sheets that were still on the bed. “Your Monty?” A small smirk spread across her lips. That was a curious way to put it. Her gaze moved towards the hand crafted wool striped blanket that she had ordered from a local artisan back in Mexico. “Is your Monty a vaquero?” She paused, then translated, “Is he a cowboy? Back home a lot of them use these blankets for their saddles. They’re durable.”

Well, warm was definitely not a word that Kaden would use to describe her, he’d say that much. She wasn’t hostile, though, and pleasant enough, clearly kept decent company, so that was probably the least he could ask for. “It was comte, good shit.” He was about to mention that they thanked him by giving him some extra blocks but decided against it. “I actually asked them if they’d help teach me Spanish the other day. I offered to help them with French. Seemed fair enough.” Something told him that he wasn’t about to see Anita a whole lot if he ended up over here again. Didn’t seem like he was to her taste.

Kaden was familiar with Regan’s insistence that she didn’t have friends nor wanted them. Something he questioned from the get go. Not that not having friends, that part seemed to hold true, but the not wanting them? Didn’t buy it. “No idea if she’d call me a friend or not. But we keep meeting by circumstances.” Some of those circumstances involved mime mushrooms, unfortunately. He’d prefer getting sutures any day of the week. “Plus, she yelled at me to go to a doctor so not like she could really say no when I turned up at the morgue.

As Kaden started to help take off the bedding, he stopped short and his face flushed bright red. Shit. “My– uh, no. He’s not– That’s not– I didn’t mean– I misspoke, alright.” He had to turn away from her, he culdn’t handle how fucking warm his cheeks had gotten. Fucking hell. “Uh, anyway, he is, yeah. Owns a dairy farm out in Gatlin Fields.” Maybe if he rubbed his cheeks a little with the inside of his arm casually, they’d fucking quit betraying him. “Makes sense. Don’t know if you have the same back home, but he’s from Mexico.” That would explain the overlap in aesthetic, now that he thought about it. Probably should have been obvious from the get go.

“They’re a fairly quick learner, but I can’t really speak to their ability to teach. I’ve had to help them out with English a lot over the years. Didn’t realize they wanted to learn French.” When Anita first moved to town and welcomed Metzli into her home there weren’t many others who came by with any amount of frequency. Lately, however, her roommate was becoming shockingly social and the number of strangers that became regular guests had drastically increased. Anita wondered if he was going to be added to that list… she hoped not.

“Didn’t realize animal control and a medical examiner had so many circumstances for interaction. Way she made it sound, she spends the bulk of her time in the morgue.” It was promising, however, that it seemed that Anita may have the opportunity to get close to Regan if the right circumstances kept arising. Or if a very crafty lamia carefully and intentionally created circumstances for interaction. She’d keep that idea in the back of her head. “Well, in fairness, I’m sure she’s not exactly used to bodies showing up at the morgue that can actually ask for help.”

Anita shrugged as she continued to strip the sheets from the bed, tossing them in a somewhat neat pile in the corner of the room. “You don’t have to be embarrassed to like this Monty. If you’re talking, dating, fucking, whatever… I don’t know him and I hardly know you, so I truly don’t care about whatever your dynamic is.” She straightened her top out as she stood up after tossing the last piece of bedding off the mattress. “How’d you meet? Animal control call for a missing cow or something?” Not that she would do so herself since there were far more delicious thighs in town to eat, but she had heard that livestock often went missing in town. Natural and stationary prey for the world of predators that surrounded them. “I’m also from Mexico, so that is what I meant when I said back home.”

Without waiting to see if he was going to make a pathetic attempt, given his injured state, to help move the mattress, Anita began to push it off the bed frame and stand it up on its side. It wasn’t particularly heavy, and if need-be she knew that she could get it out to his truck by herself even without use of her lamia strength. “Hopefully your cousins will be home to help you get this back out of the truck later.”

“Well, worst that happens is that it doesn’t work out.” Kaden knew that Metzli was still learning English and that they didn’t seem like the most talkative person. Still, there was something that made him feel like they were the right person to ask. Maybe it was because he figured that they’d be blunt, but that they wouldn’t judge him for making stupid mistakes. At least not in any real, harsh manner. He could be completely wrong and maybe he was an idiot for reaching out but it was worth a shot. “But yeah, they said their partner speaks French and that’s why they were trying to learn it. So, yeah, it’s entirely possible we’ll end up just speaking to each other in our native languages back and forth and not have a fucking clue what the other is saying.” At least there would be good cheese.

“An unusually aggressive vulture attacked the morgue once. And she managed to find a dead fox in the woods that seemed like it had an usual death. She helped me locate it again to examine it.” Not that they ever got to examine the fox or learn what had killed the animal. They were a little preoccupied with the effects of the fucking mushrooms instead. “She said as much. Did the sutures anyway so pretty sure I made out alright in the end.”

Kaden sighed. She had a fucking point. Why did he care if she cared? Right, he didn’t. And he definitely hadn’t blushed, either. “Fine. You caught me. Just dating. I think.” He never knew how to define shit and he sure as shit didn’t want to ask or talk about it. Labeling things or committing to shit always made him want to twist away and make a break for it. There was something too vulnerable to it all, the possibility of getting hurt too close to reality. “Close, funny enough. Someone dropped a horse off at the animal shelter and I knew he had a farm. I called, he came to take the horse, I went there to help, left with a date. Definitely had worse days on the job.”

Yeah, should have guessed she’d go ahead and start moving the mattress without him. It was clear Anita wanted this done as quickly as possible and the way to achieve that was definitely not by letting him struggle on his own. Kaden went to grab one side of the mattress, figuring they could probably move it fast enough together. It was more awkward than heavy, anyway. “Me too. At least hope it doesn’t rain long enough for them to help bring it inside.” Not that there were storm clouds in the sky but, knowing his luck, well, it was a possibility.

Off the top of her head, Anita could think of several worse outcomes than it simply not working out. It wasn’t that she didn’t think Metzli couldn't handle this guy on their own if push came to shove, but there was a strange protective instinct that came over her. It wasn’t a feeling she was particularly familiar with, but it almost made her wish that their tutoring sessions did take place at the house, that way she could at least make sure nothing strange happened. “Well, that is certainly an option. We speak the same tongue and I don’t understand what they are saying sometimes.” She offered it up as a joke, unsure if the tension she felt was real or just in her head.

“I don’t date, so I am certainly not an expert on it. But I think you typically should know whether or not you are dating someone else.” It was moments like these that Anita was glad she didn’t let herself get tangled up in relationships, they always seemed to bring out a weird side in people. “Sounds like you seem to make out impeccably well on the job. Capture a rooster, get a Spanish tutor. Deal with a vulture, get an on-call trauma surgeon. Find a stray horse, get a date.” It was actually quite impressive. He was either blessed with dumb luck, or perhaps he had a natural charm that was simply lost on Anita.

It was admirable how he came to offer assistance moving the mattress. While it was unnecessary, Anita opted to let him help instead of shooing him away. With her holding the bulk of the weight, she started leading them out of the guest room and back down the hallway toward the front door. “Didn’t even think about it before… but you’re gonna just put this down on the floor of the cabin, aren’t you?” Should she offer the bedframe to him as well? That seemed unnecessary nor did she really think he would accept it. Besides, a mattress on the floor had to be better than a lumpy couch anyway.

Kaden shrugged. “If nothing else, I know they’ll bring good cheese. So I might not learn a damn thing but I’ll be well fed.” He wasn’t usually one to stick to the silver lining bullshit but in this instance, he was strangely positive. Maybe it was because he knew there would be a dog involved in addition to the good cheese.

“Me either. Usually,” he replied. “Relationships and labels and all that shit are too fucking complicated. So I don’t know what the hell to call it.” Whether that was because of ignorance or him ignoring the issue of labeling shit or asking any questions about it was up for debate. He was pretty damn fine with how things were at the moment, no need to make it into a big deal or make shit weird. Interesting that she had a point about his luck on the job, considering. Granted, only one of those instances actually involved an animal and not a monster but the outcome was the same he supposed. “Yeah, guess that’s my reward for losing a pound of flesh or whatever. So far it’s a decent trade but we’ll see what I get for the next brush with death.”

“For now,” he told her as they walked the mattress through the house. “But I’ve got a bed frame coming.” He didn’t feel like explaining that Monty was making it. He’d embarrassed himself enough already. When they were halfway to the door, Kaden’s brows furrowed. The brief interlude of quiet spurred his memory. His hunter senses went off just as he got there. And then nothing. Strange. If she was a shifter, he should still feel it. But there was no one else where.

…Putain, should he be worried about a dead body in the house? Was there a shifter here that she offed? She could be lying about the macabre decorations being solely Metzli’s.

“Not knowing what he’d call it is the kind of thing that’s usually solved with a conversation, I think.” Anita wasn’t sure why she was continuing to engage with the relationship conversation. Maybe it was because she did admittedly find it interesting when someone claimed to ‘not be a relationship person’ and then found themselves intertwined in what seemed like some complicated dynamic. That seemed to be something that happened regularly yet something she had personally managed to avoid. “But again, I don’t really care about your dynamic with your vaquero.”

“Capturing a runaway rooster constitutes a brush with death to you?” Either he was being facetious or this rooster story had more to it than simply being a rooster. She’d have to ask Metzli about that. As they got towards the door, Anita felt a soft shift in his demeanor. Without making it obvious, she scanned the room for something out of place that might cause concern to a human. There didn’t appear to be any - Anita didn’t keep things like that out in the open. Maybe he was just realizing how sad his little cabin was in comparison to her own home.

Not wanting this interaction to linger on much longer, Anita simply proceeded towards the front door, setting the end of the mattress down for a moment to swing open up the large wooden door. “I can take it the rest of the way to your vehicle, if you want. Don’t want you to bust open those stitches and bleed all over my walkway. Blood is hard to get out of concrete.” Without waiting for his response, she began to proceed down the front steps and towards the truck parked in her driveway.

“Yeah, yeah. What happened to ‘I don’t date, I’m not an expert, I don’t care,’ huh?” Kaden shot her a look, but it didn’t help him avoid blushing when she, once again, called Monty ‘his vaquero.’ Putain de merde. They had to get this mattress in the damn truck and wrap this shit up soon as they could. He was having enough trouble keeping his foot out of his mouth and he didn’t anticipate it getting any better the longer he stayed there.

Kaden rolled his eyes. “Not the rooster incident, the one with the wer–” Fuck. Kaden let go of the mattress and his hands flew to his side as he ‘doubled over’ in pain. He was sure it was very convincing. Definitely covered up the slip of tongue. “Like I was saying, the incident with the dog. That did this,” he said, pointing to the injury. And of course, she was still walking ahead with the mattress in hand. Great. Good to know he wasn’t helping even a little. He sighed and dragged after her, no longer attempting the rouse.

“Go for it,” he replied. And he wasn’t surprised that she was out the door and tossing the mattress into his truck before he said a word. At least the feeling was mutual that this interaction had run its course. And then some. Kaden hobbled over to the truck and helped direct the mattress into the bed of the vehicle, angling it to rest against the side. He got to work hooking the tie-down straps to the truck and tossing them over the mattress to pull across to the other side.

The slip of the tongue did not go unnoticed by Anita. She had her suspicions about what ‘wer-’ word he was going to say that miraculously got replaced by ‘dog’. It certainly was not the time or the place to address those suspicions, however. An animal control officer throwing around the start of the word werewolf was enough for her to trust her gut instinct on not trusting him. His apparent connections to both her roommate and the weird yet compelling medical examiner were enough for her to not swallow him whole on the spot. “Dogs can be quite aggressive, and I’m sure you come across the most aggressive of them in your line of work.”

Him releasing his grip on the mattress actually made it easier for Anita to navigate it into the bed of his pickup truck. After she tossed it in the back she wondered if they should have put some sort of tarp down first - it wasn’t exceptionally clean back there. Oh well. Content with her contribution to the efforts she let him take lead on tying the mattress down.

The plan had been to pass off the mattress and never interact with this strange french man ever again. But he had been just strange enough that Anita decided it was probably better to keep an eye on him than to write him off forever. “Guess I’ll be seeing you around for your language exchange with Metzli.” She paused for a second before deciding to continue, “Be careful out there. Lotta dangerous animals in these woods.” It wasn’t exactly a threat, but it wasn’t not a threat. Depending on the types of ‘animals’ he had a fancy for controlling Anita would gladly be the one to put him in his place.

#writing #wickedswriting #para #c: anita #gossipsnake #pillow talk

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 10 months ago

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Coached my first tournament in nearly a year today. It was an odd way to start, as I’ve hardly even been to practice since last spring. I haven’t properly returned since COVID occurred. I tried in 2022 to go back, it sort of worked, until a ways in 2023 when I got really disillusioned with it and stepped way back. But wasn’t ready to say I’m quitting, because it was my entire life for about 15 years. You can’t just give that all up. I always assumed I’d do it forever. It was the only place where I knew people or knew what was going on.

There was a really little tournament today, in this small town about an hour away. It was this little thing, nearby and unimportant, in the middle of the part of the season that’s full of major championships. My friend talked me into going with her to help coach. It’s only an hour away.

I always said I love the sport, and I meant it. I love the physical feeling of it. I love the back and forth and the way you can get so deeply focused in the middle of a match that you forget everything else exists. I love the high of when a move works and you bring them down, and I even kind of love the sense of just pushing against a wall when it doesn’t work. I love the strategy and all the little things that you can pick out in a video review. I love the competition.

But more than anything else, I’ve realized, when it’s gone what I miss is being part of something. Having a community, a place where I can go and I know who everyone is and they all know me and I know what all the little connections are and how everything works. That seems like the most irreplicable part of it, if I ever closed the door completely on the idea of being involved again (by, for example, moving out to the East Coast or even across the ocean, as I’ve considered doing, and have no really strong reason to stay besides keeping a door open), I don’t think I’d ever find that anywhere else. The very thing that makes that community feel special to me is the number of years I spent getting to know everything in it. You can’t just replace all those years. I could make new friends but I couldn’t make a whole new community. And friends come and go, you don’t want to count on that for your whole social life. They marry women on the other side of the world or they get engaged to women who live here but want to drastically change his social life, or they have brain aneurysms or they try to a fuck a teenager so you have to cut him out of your life. As, you know, a few completely hypothetical example of where four of my friends have gone in the last few years.

Today was definitely about community. It was a tournament mainly for kids aged sixteen and under, not the level of coaching I did pre-COVID. Pre-COVID, I was mainly involved with really competitive team, of the ones aged 16-24 or so, and I was on the road almost every weekend for tournaments that were usually not just an hour away. The GTA (Greater Toronto Area) is 5 or 6 hours away from us (depending on traffic and on which bit of the area it is), and I used to be there all the time, because that’s where the more competitive teams and the bigger tournaments are. We’d go down there every weekend, pile as many coaches and athletes in one truck as we possibly could to save on gas costs, then pile as many as we could into a hotel room or Air B&B or sometimes the floor of the gym where my friend coaches in Toronto, to save on more costs.

And I constantly complained about it, because it’s not fair that athletes from my city have to pay so much more to compete than the ones who live in the GTA, who can just drive an hour in on the morning of the tournament instead of driving 5 hours the night before. But obviously, once it was gone, it was the biggest thing I missed. The road trips home after a tournament, with kids going between loudly signing along to the music, trying to teach my co-coaches and I Arabic (the athletes who rode in the coaches’ truck almost all spoke Arabic, because by and large they were the ones with parents who weren’t rich enough to drive them down – most of the white kids went with their own families), falling asleep on top of each other, and talking shit about their opponents. I wouldn’t trade that for a team that has a little extra money for facilities due to a much lower travel budget, but they don’t get the bonding time. They don’t get the special moments like yelling at 17-year-old for sneaking out of a terrible cheap motel in the middle of night and nearly getting killed.

But today wasn’t that. It was a little tournament in the valley around our area. I knew everyone. So many people whom I hadn’t seen in years. It was gratifying how many came up and hugged me as soon as they saw me, excited to see me because it turns out the community hasn’t forgotten me no matter how long I’ve been gone. I had some really lovely chats with some people I haven’t seen in ages.

But I did remember: being part of a community can get romanticized in my mind really quickly when I haven’t actually done it in a while (you know, like how doing two 5-hour road trips a week for months at a time seems like a beautiful thing when it’s a bit of nostalgia, but would get much more annoying if I started actually doing it again). In actually practice, the thing about being in a whole community, rather than just a small and curated group of friends, is you don’t get to pick who joins that community. Which means that going to spaces where the community is requires being around people you don’t like.

I didn’t realize until today just how lucky I’ve been in the last few years, really since 2020, to have had to spend almost no time in person around people I don’t like. Not that I never have to do that – we had a fun time at Christmas this year when my brother made some racist jokes and I told him they were racist and then my mother started crying because she hates that he and I don’t get along. But mostly, aside from a few exceptions like that, I’ve been able to avoid that feeling of standing in the presence of someone I think is being terrible and having to bite my tongue and try to get along. And I really fucking hate that feeling. I’ve always hated it, obviously. I know everyone hates that feeling, but I think I might hate it more than most people do. Because my friends can do it while seeming only mildly annoying, and it’s always bothered me more than that. Pre-COVID, it was a running joke among my friends that I hold a grudge forever and have no “poker face” for hiding when I can’t stand someone. But I could at least tolerate being in their presence, if I had to. I think that during COVID, my tolerance for that has gone down in the same way an alcohol tolerance would from lack of use. Doing it today made me wonder how I ever used to get through it all the time.

Here is a list of reasons why I disliked various people who were in the room with me today:

- The coach from another city who met his wife by being her high school teacher.

- The ref who’s been posting on Facebook that Israel has a right to defend itself.

- The other coach from that city who voted for the horrifyingly abusive coach to get on the board during the Big Dramatic Elections of 2016 (no not the American ones, the ones for board spots in our region). The coach he voted for has put three athletes in the hospital (that we know of) by forcing them to cut dangerous weight and train while injured, and also drove a friend of mine/first fully qualified female ref in Canada out of the sport by intimidating her into dropping a sexual harassment complaint against him.

- The coach from my team who used to be very close friends with me and then got a girlfriend and stopped talking to me almost entirely, and now they’re engaged so that’s just forever now, and he still makes vague small talk with me when he sees me as though we didn’t used to share everything and as though it’s fine that we have to catch up on basic details of our lives from the last two years.

- The coach of the host town’s team who told a girl I used to coach that girls aren’t really cut out for this sport.

- The parent from my team who once yelled at me for not having the correct facial expression during her son’s match, and also made a formal complaint against our coaches because we didn’t get sufficiently aggressive in yelling at refs to change calls at a tournament for little kids.

- There isn’t even any point in specifying individual people who post Joe Rogan on social media, because that’s just everyone in the room. In this community, the ones who are super into Joe Rogan but think Andrew Tate takes it too far are the progressive ones.

- And on that note: the random guy I saw wearing a Jordan Peterson shirt. Reminding me that probably at least 70% of that room consists of people who are also into Jordan Peterson.

- There were a lot of shirts with Christian imagery, which is fine and I don’t judge, mostly, or at least, I try not to. I still didn’t love being around it.

- The parent from another team who once complained about how my team was full of “ghetto kids” and the kids from her team should be careful around my team in hotels to avoid having their stuff stolen (because we have a lot of Middle Eastern immigrants, especially as compared to the small towns around us that are all white).

- Several people who drove out during the trucker protests to stand quite close to literally outside my fucking house, holding "fuck Trudeau" signs to protest COVID regulations, and also to be a part of a mob that shut down my entire city and intimidated the locals and caused massive property damage and several assaults on people not to mention to horrifying messaging, a couple of years ago. Not enough years ago for me to have put it behind me. Not enough years ago for seeing if my kids can beat up their kids to all be fun and games now.

- The guy who’s running a team because he used to be an assistant coach to that team when it was run by his brother, but a year and a bit ago, his brother committed suicide, to avoid going to court with the female athlete who had charged him with sexually abusing her since she was 15 years old. So he died, his brother took over the team. His brother who was close friends with him and was an assistant on the team through all of this and definitely knew what was going on the entire time, and never did anything to stop it, in fact tacitly encouraged it by continuing to coach there. And now he’s just in charge of those children and apparently that’s fine. Also, his presence reminded me of how, when the girl posted her story on social media after he died, the general reaction from our region was that she shouldn’t have done so because you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. Not that she was wrong – the evidence was overwhelming that he did do it. Just that you shouldn’t be mean about him anyway.

- The guys sitting next to me while I ate lunch in the coaches' room, talking about how kids today are so much softer than a few years ago and it's all because COVID regulations have ruined the generation because Kids Are No Longer Tough.

- The guy who’s way too eager about cliché and useless coaching courses that make the coaches who take them think they’re better than the ones who spend that time actually out there coaching. (Actually, compared to everyone else, I’ve turned around on that guy and greeted him today as an old friend.)

But. Also, I've been listening to all these radio shows with John Robins where he's talking about Queen, and sometimes he references We Are the Champions, and every time it makes me remember that that song was on the playlists that we used to play on tournament road trips in the pre-COVID days, and it was the best thing in the world. And I think of this video that I watched so much during the lockdown days, when this still felt recent and like something that might come back soon, that I took once as we drove home in the middle of the night, from the type of tournament that makes us glad for all those tournaments where everything goes wrong, because they make it more special on the rare occasions that every person on our team performs to their potential and we just go down there and take over the whole venue, we were coming home with more medals than we knew what to do with and months of work paying off for everyone, and we had the playlist on and the kids in the back started singing, and you just can't get something that means as much as that without years and years going into it.

One of the guys signing in this video is now way too into misogynistic bro podcasts, even some of the explicitly racist and Islamophobic ones despite the fact that he's a Muslim immigrant from the Middle East. But he saw me today for the first time in months and gave me a big hug and told me he missed me and wished I'd coach him again, and what am I supposed to do with that?

And even if you could create that kind of community without putting years and years into it first, where am I supposed to find one that's better? I guess if I want community and not dealing with that kind of bullshit, then the thing I'm looking for is the mythical liberal bubble. A bubble that's kept liberal by this cancel culture I keep hearing so much about. Geoff Norcott has promised me - he swore up and down - that comedy is such a place. But I've been to a couple of club comedy nights in the last couple of weeks (well, pub comedy nights where comedians work out material to take to clubs), and they sure did not feel like liberal bubbles. I'm beginning to suspect the liberal bubble might be something invented by Geoff Norcott, or possibly by one or two people who might be even worse than Geoff Norcott, to sell terrible books. What I'm saying is I think I could really use a little more cancel culture in my life.

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silkscream · 2 years ago

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💌 - a little possessive arvin moment if you please,, maybe in the back of his truck and he doesn’t even bother taking off your lil sundress

nsfw ahead! minors dni

dude. possessive!arvin who drags your tipsy ass out of the bar while you drawl your sweet little goodbyes to the bar patrons. sure, arvin was amused by the fact that you gave a fake name to the bartenders and the several sons of bitches who offered to buy you beers, which you accepted, of course (though you mostly gave them to arvin), but he couldn’t stand the way the other men in the bar looked at you like a piece of meat.

the last straw, however, wasn’t even one of those men. it was the sight of you talking to the mayor’s son, a sweet boy who’d been only a year or two older than you. you used to babysit his little sister, so he knew you quite well. the conversation was completely innocent -- but that’s what bothered arvin. how you gushed about how kind and polite the mayor’s son is, how if arvin wasn’t being so stoic that he would’ve gotten along with the kid.

and you were a little pissed at arvin, too, for giving you all that PDA in front of him, which was strange considering arvin doesn’t usually do PDA. how he dragged you by the wrist after interrupting your conversation to plant a wet kiss on your mouth and down your neck.

“if he’s so goddamn nice, why don’t you go home with him, then,” arvin mumbles under his breath as the two of you walk to his truck.

“and why would i do that, vinny?” you look up at him with your big, doe eyes, and he can’t resist you even when he’s mad.

he clicks his teeth and scoffs.

“arvin russell, are you jealous?” you raise an eyebrow.

“'m not,” he huffs.

“yes, you are.”

to your surprise, arvin smiles. he grins with all his teeth and he crouches down just a bit to grab your face forcefully. you smell whiskey and cigarettes on his breath.

“go on and get in the truck, darlin’,” he whispers sweetly, but there’s venom in his tongue.

and you do, you listen to him because you’re his good girl. you always like when he gets a little mad since he’s often so reserved, and he has to show you what happens when you tease him. when you go too far.

you’re about to get in the passenger seat when arvin speaks up behind you.

“not there. in the back.”

you sit in the back of the truck silently until he comes up to you, plants his mouth on yours with his tongue down your throat immediately. you groan in response, clawing at his white t-shirt as he grips your legs with enough force to bruise.

he gets his steam out by shoving his cock into you, not bothering to take off your pretty little sundress as you’re bent over with your knees in the bed of his truck. arvin is all bared teeth, pussy-drunk off of you, and he takes what he wants. he knows your body better than you do, knows all the right angles that make you tremble and shake and squirm.

“who else can fuck you like this, huh?

“n-no one,” you manage to stammer. you want to cry out but you’re both outside the bar on the dirt road, and it’s a miracle no one’s come outside to hear you getting fucked. he shoves his fingers so far down your throat that you nearly choke, but it manages to shut up your loud whimpers.

“yeah, you can take it,” arvin grunts. “can’t you, honey? bein’ such an angel for me, huh?”

“yeah,” you whine.

and he makes you see stars, makes a mess out of your thighs and your little dress and your mouth, and you can’t even begin to remember any of the names of the men that talked to you in the bar.

#2k celebration #arvin russell x you #arvin russell x reader #arvin russell smut #tom holland smut #blurb

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slowpoke-fics · 3 years ago

Text

Sacrifice

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Pack x Reader

Request Summary: You're Scotts twin sister and make a sacrifice for the good of the pack

Warnings: death, panic attack, angst, murder described, death described, reader death; I know for a fact I've missed some and this one is pretty fucking rough, as always read at your own risk.

A/N: This one is angsty, and just a tad longer than normal, consider it my apology to nonnie for taking so damn long on this request. I hope you guys love it, and again, this one is rough, read at your own risk.

You're able to grab one of the fucking resilient demonic ninja's off of Isaac. You could smell his pain, his blood, and you could smell Allisons determination. The second one on Isaac was shot with Allisons arrow, it's glowing green, fighting with the clear pain it's experiencing. With a split decision you're next to Allison, pushing her out of the way, a sharp pain through your chest, and then you're numb.

Allison's face is rampant with fear, her shirt holding a tiny cut that didn't grace the skin. Good, she's okay, and then you're falling.

You don't hit the ground though, your brother, Scott, holding your face with a stray tear falling down his face. You reach up and wipe it away, "It's okay Scotty, it doesn't hurt." Scott chokes back a sob, his hand gently rubbing yours, "Is everyone else okay?" Scott starts to speak, his voice betraying him, sounding mangled, "Yeah, everyone is okay Y/n, you're gonna be okay too." You shook your head, "Not in the way you think I am," Scott finally releases a sob, "no, no, big brother," he tries to laugh, trying to give you a little peace with your joke that even though he's minutes older, he's still older, "it's okay, yeah? Me and you, fighting tooth and nail. This was the best gift I could've ever gotten, I love you, and I love the pack. This is okay." You reach behind him, fingers tangled into his hair, you pull him to you and kiss his forehead. "Don't let them blame themselves, and don't blame yourself," another kiss to his cheek, "I love you big brother."

Scott's memories with you flashes before his eyes as the color in yours goes out, how did we get here?

"Scott! You okay?" You look over his body for injuries, he hisses at you making contact with his torso. "Scott, what's wrong? Did you get bit by something too?" Scott's eyebrows raise, "What do you mean 'too'? Did you get bit?" You roll your eyes and turn around, shirt stained with blood, "Yeah, I managed to get away from the fucker while rolling down some hill, now let me see yours." You swat him away, lifting his shirt and taking a good look at the bite mark, "Okay, not too bad, you fix me up and I'll fix you up? Not a word to mom, got it?" Scott nods, walking with you into the house to take care of the bite marks.

Scott can't feel anything, surrounded by you, your lifeless body. His anger, no, pain, soars through him as his eyes glow, a roar deep within him. The only thing anyone in his pack can hear is the scream from Lydia's lips and the roar of pain from Scott.

Isaac barely notices the sound around him, only his own heartbeat in his ears as he listened to yours fade away.

"Isaac you fucking idiot!" You slapped Isaac on the back of the head, he looks at you with lost, glowing, puppy dog eyes, "Sorry, Y/n." His eyes dull to his normal brown and you frown, "You've gotta do better honey, you can't lose control like that, you'll kill someone and I know that's not what you want." Isaac sits on the metal bench in the locker room, head in his hands, "I don't know that I'll ever be able to."

You sigh, sitting next to him with your hand rubbing his back, "You will, just give it time, until then, you've gotta find something that works for you, something that prevents you from breaking someone fucking ribs Isaac." You voice becomes elevated again towards the end, irritated at Isaac's recklessness. "Yeah," he leans his head down to your shoulder, "I know firecracker."

Scott is blind to the feeling on his bloody hand, only noticing it when Allison's tears hit it. Allison brushes a hair out of your face, you looked peaceful, she's eternally grateful for you, for what you did for her tonight and what you've done for her up until this point.

"Allison, fuck," you huff, pulling yourself up from the ground, "let's do it again, I know that this isn't you, your aim is perfect, let it all go and focus on me okay?" She sighs, shaking the bow in her hand, "Maybe the fact that I could actually hurt you isn't helping." You're eye to eye with her, both hands on her face, eyes glowing, "No, you won't hurt me, I'm invincible remember?" She laughs, shaking her head, "Alright, last time." You grin ear to ear and took off running. Allison brings the bow up, listening to you run. She sees glimpses of you, through the trees, and the arrow is gone. She sighs, she didn't hit you, she's shouting at you "I told you! I can't do it!"

You touch her back, startling her, she lets out a small yelp and turns to you. Her eyes go wide when she sees the arrow sticking out of your shoulder. "Oh, Jesus Y/n," her bow drops and she's bringing her hands up to try and get it to stop bleeding. "Oh quit being a pussy and pull it out," you rolled your eyes, grabbing her wrist and bringing it to the arrow in your shoulder. "I'm so sorry I hit you-" she pulls it out and you let out a long groan, already feeling better with the object dislodged. "Don't be sorry, you hit me, let's do it again." Allisons eyes widen, if that's even possible, and shakes her head, "No, absolutely not." You laugh, "Lighten up buttercup, I'm invincible remember? And this time I'm not going easy." She scoffs at you, "Easy? Oh I see how it is, run little wolf, run." With that, you take off running, Allison laughing at your excitement.

Kira is frozen, she feels like she died, you were her best friend. Over anyone else, you'd been the first to accept her, the first to fight for her, the first one she'd confided in.

"Kira, what the hell are you saying?" You're sitting with your arms crossed at a picnic table, nose in your homework. "I-I know that we were friends first, so I was going to tell you first, before I said any-" You slam your hand one the table, "Kira, baby, spit it out, fuck." This is the you realize that Kira's scent holds fear and anxiety. "Kira, what's wrong?" You're more serious now, waiting for the bomb to drop that there's another fight to be had. "I like Scott, like like him, Jesus please don't be mad." You burst into full laughter, tears streaming from your eyes.

When you calm down Kira is staring at you, piddling with the strings on her sleeves. "Oh, my god," you laugh again, trying to calm yourself. "You're not mad?" You laugh harder, smacking the table a few times, "Jesus Christ no, I can't believe-" you stand up still laughing, hugging her. "I don't give a shit," rubbing her back, "you had nothing to worry about, as long as you don't get mad if I fuck your dad." Kira jerks back, shock on her face, "Y/n!" You laugh harder, "I'm fucking kidding, jeez," you sit back down, "fucking sit down and gush to me about my brother."

She shakes herself out of it when she feels her mother enclose her in a hug. Tears finally falling.

Lydia's scream has finally ended, and she's inconsolable. Memories flooding through her head as she lays her head on an unconscious Stiles.

"Lydia god dammit," you truck to the pool, "did you find another one?" You stop at the strong scent of blood, rushing to Lydia, Stiles right behind you. "Are you hurt?" Lydia shakes her head, staring at you, "I already called 911." Stiles looks hurt, arguing with Lydia over why she should call him before the police, but you push him to the side. "Heya honey," you wrap your arms around her waist, "it's okay, don't listen to Stiles grumpy ass, let's me and you go sit." You're not sure why you aren't phased by the body next to you, but you let Stiles do whatever he needs to do for Scott while you try and get Lydia's head back down to Earth.

"Hey Lyds, dontcha think you're a little overdressed to come to the pool?" She lets out a small chuckle and you relax a little, "This can't be my new normal, Y/n. Finding dead bodies? I can't take this." You hold her hand, sighing, "None of us asked for this Lydia, I'm so sorry. If you want I can stay with you for a few days, follow you if you zonk out again?" Lydia just nods, and she feels for the first time that you're as much her best friend as Allison.

Lydia can't stop crying, Scott is trying to get ahold of himself, Kira is crying with her mother, Isaac is breathless and in pain, and Allison is held by her father.

"She did it for me dad," Allison sobs, her father already made sure she wasn't hurt, "she did it for me and I don't know why." Chris shushes her, running his fingers through her hair, grateful for your sacrifice so his beautiful girl could live. "She did it because she loved you," Allison sobs harder, "I know sweet girl, but listen, we have to deal with this. You can cry, scream, break things later, but now? Now we get our stories straight." Allison nods, and her dad is off to Scott to prep him.

When Stiles finds out, it's like every cell in his body failed him. Scott caught him and pulled him into a hug, tears streaming down his face. "I know. I know brother." Stiles can't breathe, it's been a long time since he's had a panic attack, but here he is, without you, panicking.

"Stiles," you sigh, throwing a ball against his ceiling and back into your hand, sprawled out on his bed, "you've gotta stop." Stiles shakes his head, "No, no there is something here!" He tosses the books to the floor, you get off the bed, wrapping your arms around him from behind, "You'll find it but you're not going to without sleep. Come on." You tug him back to his bed, "Let's nap, and then we'll come back to all," you gesture to his board covered in multicolored string, "this." Stiles sighs heavily, letting you pull him to the bed. It's not the first time, and certainly wouldn't be the last, that you've convinced him to sleep. He crawls in next to you and you throw your arm open, allowing him to lay his head over your heart. He falls asleep to the lull of the thump thump thump.

Stiles shakes himself out of the memory, remembering that he'll never hear that beautiful sound again and vows to hold onto it. He lets out a pained, choked sob, "Scott-" Scotts arms are around him still, Scott can smell the guilt coming off of the small man, "Don't - It was not your fault Stiles. It wasn't anyone's fault." Scott lets Stiles cry, mourn his best friend, the woman he's come to love like his own sister. "Have you told Derek?" Scott sighs, Stiles already knows the answer.

When they get to Derek's place, Derek opens the door, already smelling them and their horribly displaced emotions. "What is it?" Scott lets himself in, Stiles following close behind him and he's checking for his little flame, and when you're nowhere to be found, his heart sinks. "Where's Y/n?" Derek can smell the grief coming off of Scott in waves, not missing the anger that hides beneath it. "Fuck, my little flame," his voice sounds broken, barely audible to the human boy who stares sorrowful at him.

"Derek Hale!" You kick the door open to home, "Derek Hale! Get your ass out here!" Derek almost materializes behind you, but you're just as quick as he is. "Derek Hale! I oughtta kill you, you son of a bitch!" You march to him, taking him off guard by your fist that collides into his face. He's knocked back a couple feet, staring at you with glowing eyes. Your eyes match his, "I am not afraid of your eyes, wolf boy! You turned three people!" Derek shrugs, "So what if I did?" You go for a second punch, this time caught by Derek, he can't smell a single ounce of fear, only fury.

"They knew what they were getting into," Derek lets go of your hand. "Oh, fuck you, Derek," you shove him back, "you can spin that stupid story to whoever you want, but you and I know better." Derek shrugs, "So what? They're better now, stronger, and they like it." You let out a deep growl, "Did you tell them about the death?" You step forward towards him, "Did you tell them how they'd be pulled into every murder in this town?" You shove him back again, following his step backwards, "Did you tell them of the pain? Did you? Of course not." Your hand grasps his chin, squeezing painfully with your claws out, making him look at you, "Hear me Derek Hale and hear me good. If anything," you squeezed him harder, bringing a hiss from him, "and I mean anything, happens to them, I will hurt you." You back away and head out of his house, stopping at his door, "And trust me, I'm a fire you can't put out." He laughs, watching you walk away, but mumbling just where you can barely hear, "I have a feeling I don't want to be burned by your flame."

A growl explodes from his lips, pain filling his entire being. You've been the glue that holds them all together, bringing them back from the brink again and again. How could they survive without you?

Months after your death, they've settled back into the groove of things, nothing ever feels the same without you though.

They talk about you all the time, Stiles has a tendency to try and calm people down like you did. Trying to help keep everyone grounded. He's nowhere near as good at it like you were, but he's trying. Allison keeps your memory around by never changing her lock screen, a picture of everyone in the pack resting on the screen she checks every five minutes. Isaac has found a new anchor, with Scott's help, using himself to be able to control the rage that flurries inside of him after your death. Lydia lives for adopting your fire, absolutely never keeping her mouth shut much to everyone's dismay, but it's a way to keep your image around. Kira has become closer to Allison and Lydia, but she knows they'll never replace you. They don't laugh at her like you did when she talks about Scott, and it's a painful memory. Derek's become much more involved with Scott's pack, dedicated to doing what he can for not fighting by your side the right you died, a debt he'll never repay. Scott finds his peace in his pack, but the hole in his heart for his sister will never fade, like the newly placed fire tattoo on his forearm will never fade.

They are all eternally grateful.

They all know it'll never be the same.

They all hate your sacrifice.

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brakken-spideyverse · 3 years ago

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This review feels like a long time coming:

The Amazing Spider-Man 2 (2014)

I’m finding it difficult to know where to start with this one. I loved it when I first saw it, even though it’s not free of problems, and I’ve been on the defensive about it for quite some time. Part of me wants to leap in and bite at all the specific criticisms I’ve heard and explain why they’re mistaken, part of me wants to simply shower it with overly biased praise to try and achieve some kind of balance… but I’ll do my best to break it all down.

I know the plot with Peter’s parents isn’t for everyone, but I appreciate the efforts to make it more engaging, and not slide it under the mat because it was unpopular. The opening is effective in giving us some misleading clues about the backstory, and also serves as an interval between TASM1’s final swing and when we pick up with Spidey again in this one. And they don’t hold back on the foreshadowing moments - the plane, Mary’s death… I mean the movie starts inside of a clock ticking away.

Now, our opening image of Spidey. Oh, dang. I love it – I love the symbol fading in as we’re brought to present day, with the theme music coming in triumphant and exciting and fun. The way the camera follows Spidey in this opening makes me want to jump up in my seat every time. How he pulls himself around buildings, and twists through the air. When he reaches the peak of his swing, and our viewpoint spins around to frame him against nothing but a clear blue sky as he enters a death-defying dive. The film itself feels so excited about throwing Spidey onto the screen - truly, amazing. This was, and continues to be, the absolute pinnacle of web-swinging scenes.

And the movie has now set up its extremes – from the dark and tragic prologue with Peter’s parents, to this light-hearted and thrilling pursuit, we already have the gamut of what the movie will ask of its audience. As someone who doesn’t like to be ‘tricked’ by a story suddenly shifting tone, this has great value to me. Especially given that this opening also has some stuff that can be considered… off.

Specifically, the car pile-ups caused by Rhino’s hijacked truck feel too extreme – it’s an easy detail to blur out when caught up in the action, but it’s not fully sold that the innocent bystander Max Dillon requires saving at the cost of a taxi cab tumbling and scraping its way across the street. I think there’s something to be said about the lens we’re viewing this under, which is why I brought up the tone being so firmly established. In TASM1, there is a scene where it is acknowledged that someone dangling in a car off a bridge is in need of rescue – so when Spidey swings away after that singular save, and leaves Dr. Ratha unconscious and still hanging there, it creates cause for concern. But not to the same extent here in TASM2 – when the cars get tossed and turned, we’re allowed to experience this in Spidey’s POV, and since he’s not concerned, we don’t need to be, either. However, on repeat watches I do still find it goes a bit too far.

As someone who was substantially disappointed by how TASM1 handled its Peter/Gwen wrap-up, I was really glad to see it addressed as a primary plot thread in the sequel. It’s already a fine line to expand on a story, but to specifically address a problem-moment takes guts and craft. It would be so easy just to ignore it, or retcon it with a mere hand-wave. It could have been: “Who cares about the entire plot of the first movie, it’s fine!” or: “Actually, they broke up again, oops!”. But TASM2 hones in on the promise he made, and on Peter’s indecisiveness. We get to see him wrestling with responsibility and guilt, still struggling with understanding who he wants to be.

On the flip-side, how I wish Gwen and Peter were just happily dating in this movie. They are just too cute together to have so much time invested in relationship drama, even when I think it’s handled fairly well. I’ve heard a number of people call Peter out for following Gwen post-breakup. They are correct - this is a thing he shouldn’t be doing! Without forgiving that, I'd also like to emphasize that neither the movie nor the characters act like it's a romantically blanketed action on his part. Gwen confronts him about it, and Peter deflects before guiltily admitting. To expand further, they both know that their relationship isn't so simple. They each state at points in the movie that things are complicated. Gwen cares about Peter, and knows him well enough to understand why he's acting the way he is, but still demands to hear his explanation. I don’t think it’s flawlessly done, but contrasting it to TASM1 - where him discreetly taking pictures of her goes mostly unaddressed and at one point almost rewarded - I think there is a meaningful distinction.

I want to talk about the evolution of Spidey’s quipping. In the first movie, his witty persona emerges as a bully, since he’s seeing the world in a fairly black-and-white way. He gets harassed by Flash, so he pushes back. When he’s out seeking justice for Uncle Ben, he has no qualms about humiliating the car thief or getting cocky with the cops. But after further run-ins with Flash, and realizing Doctor Connors is the Lizard, this makes him begin to realize that not all villains are just clear-cut evil-doers. There are people there, with past trauma or misplaced anger. And maybe there’s a chance to help them, before hurting them. In TASM2, every time he swings in to intervene with a baddie, he always begins by attempting to defuse the situation, or to resolve it by talking before swinging fists. We see it in both scenes with Rhino, with Max in Times Square, and even with Harry where he simply pleads with him.

Now, let’s talk about the villains.

Electro is a bit of a grey area for me. I love his powers and his music, and I dig his design for the most part. His awakening in the morgue is wonderfully terrifying. However, I flip back and forth on how much I like his story. On one end, I see his descent into villainy as this exaggerated version of a hyperfan – so eager for his idol’s approval, and so quick to feel snubbed when faced with certain realities. This is mostly effective, even with its caricatured tone, and serves its purpose for the big, explosive fights with low personal stake. But the film also clues us in to the lonelier side of Max Dillon - where the world is unjustly against someone who wishes no harm… there is more tragedy than villainy in that. And when that aspect of his character goes unaddressed, with no final attempt by Spidey to redeem him, his demise doesn’t feel earned by the story.

I love this movie’s take on Harry. In a reflection of Peter getting left behind by his parents, here it’s the son who was sent away. His introduction comes naturally off the premise that Norman is dying, and his chemistry with Peter quickly blends him into the history of this series as we watch them reconnect, and watch Harry struggle with the ‘Osborn curse’. Critics have said it’s unreasonable that Peter doesn’t give Harry his blood, but I disagree – one look at him and you can see the obsession and desperation that’s eating him alive. It’s all too similar to Connors, and Peter isn’t so ready to trust again. And the Goblin is more than a surprise villain at the end. He is the culmination of Harry's journey – all his pain and abandonment manifested, as his plight to not become his father turns him into something worse. His design reflects this too – a state of absolute agony as his disease clashes with the spider venom, and he’s kept lucid only with the help of the combat armor. He wasn’t meant to look like a perfected design for Green Goblin – he’s meant to look like his own worst nightmare.

Concerning Rhino… he’s great! And Paul Giamatti is great as Rhino! No further comments!

Well, a little elaboration on one point: Rhino is not sequel bait. Would he have appeared in TASM3? In all likelihood, yes. But his purpose is fulfilled in this film. He is the bookend – our reminder of Gwen’s speech, of Spidey at his peak, and showcases that all things will evolve and escalate, with or without Spidey there. More on this later.

With Aunt May, her scene in Peter’s room is just so beautiful and heart-breaking. We understand how she’s struggling with her situation as much as Peter is, and feels like she’s losing him to the idea of who his parents were. Carrying over from the first film I really get the sense that in their small family unit, Peter had the strongest connection with Ben - and with him gone, all the weight of the secrets and loss is all on her. “You are my boy”. It’s so honest and unrefined, and vulnerable.

I have some issues with the culmination of the storyline with Peter’s father. I think it’s strange that the actual flashbacks place an amount of importance on his mom, but there’s no meaningful follow-up for her in present day. And I wish there’d been any amount of exoneration for either of them beyond Peter’s discovery – be it a Bugle headline, or even just letting May find out the truth. It would go a long way to casting off the shadow of the past.

But most notably, it is rather heavy-handed that Richard used his own DNA to create the spiders. When the spider bite is classically this… complete happenstance, it does feel against the ‘nature’ of a Spidey story to have it tied so much to a feeling of destiny. And yet… with how other Spidey comics and stories have evolved, is it really such a deviation? When there is a whole tangled web of Peter Parkers out there, all bitten by spiders, can we really stand firm on this notion that it has to be accidental, in every timeline, in every universe? I’m not always sure, myself. I hold Into the Spider-Verse in the highest esteem, which very much evokes the idea that anyone can be Spider-Man. Even so, I really think this version of Peter in TASM needs that connection to his father. It’s a physical embodiment of choosing to do something good with the abilities given to you, which both Richard and Peter attempted. What’s most interesting in this scene for me, is that Peter’s final unanswered question gets resolved here – he finds out his father didn’t abandon him, that he was loved. In another story, this could’ve led to Peter deciding to let Gwen go, much like his father left him. But here, he does the opposite. He knows the pain of being disconnected from a person you love, and he chooses to forgo that.

But… it’s too late. While Peter has untangled his legacy, Harry has gotten wrapped up in his own. And his revenge is killing Gwen – and all hope for Peter’s future. It’s sickening, and tragic. The entire scene is heartbreakingly beautiful. Yet, it’s difficult for me to pin down whether I think it was wholly the right choice for the story, when I liked the character so much and didn’t want to see her go.

But I am certainly thankful that we’re not left there, in absolute despair.

We continue into the epilogue… the ending.

It harkens back to Peter tossing stones with Harry, remarking that Spider-Man brings people hope. “Maybe eventually everything's gonna be alright.” This idea is shattered for Peter, now – his own hope is gone. But Aunt May’s words, and Gwen’s speech, help him push past his grief, and remember that Spider-Man means that to everyone else, too. And they need that. They need to believe it, even if he can't. This movie ends on the highest of highs. The hero swings in to save the city from a huge, bombastic villain. Spidey is charismatic and quippy. He is met with cheers, and his theme music carries us beyond the cut to black, as his symbol flies in to complete the story – telling us that he will keep fighting.

But it’s all for us. Peter Parker is utterly broken, and only Spider-Man remains, for our sake. We win, but Peter loses.

So much I could still talk about, but I’ll leave it at that, for now. This movie is so very full - full of beautiful moments, of thrilling events, and plenty of problems… and altogether remains very important to me.

Rating:

#max talks about spidey #long post #nonmakeover

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hereforhalstead · 3 years ago

Text

Showtime - Part 2

*Gif not mine, credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader.

• Requested: Part 2!

• Warnings: Swearing

• Summary: Part 2 of being undercover with Adam, despite being in a secret relationship with Jay. You can find Part 1 here..

• Words: 2353

• A/N : Part 3 coming shortly as I know not much happened here but needed a filler! Also, kind of wish I had wrote this as being undercover with Kevin as that man really doesn’t get the recognition he deserves, but I got inspo when Hailey was undercover with Adam so will have to be one for next time!

***

“What’s the hold up?” you jump as Voight’s rough voice booms from behind you “The mic was playing up so just had to get it fixed, Sarge” Jay responds for the pair of you as you nod in agreement “Right well let’s get going. Jay you’re with Kim and Y/N, Adam is waiting for you in the car outside. Let’s move” he instructs before stomping past you, leaving you and Jay stood in an awkward silence “Good luck” he sarcastically offers with a grin on his face, you find his confidence amusing considering the night he is in for but decide to go along with his humor “Thanks baby, but I don’t need luck”.

“Sarge, we need a code word to listen out for” Hailey speaks across the radio, you pick up the one hidden under Adam’s seat to respond “Mocktail”. Adam looks at you with his bottom lip out and nods “Hey, that’s a good one” he reassures and you place the back of your hand under your chin to gloat “thank you, thank you”.

As you approach the club, Voight pulls over into a nearby road to hang back and is soon followed by Jay pulling up behind him to park his truck “You head inside, I’ll leave it a few minutes and follow you in” he directs to Kim who tousles her hair before walking off. Adam stops the car next to Voight’s and you wind your window down to allow him to speak “Jay and Kim will be close by and Kev, Hailey and I will be listening in. Any sign of trouble and you get out or say the word and we will be there” he orders and you can feel Jay staring at you from the other side of Voight “Don’t leave her alone in there, can’t be bothered going through the process of getting another partner” he confesses to Adam with a chuckle, Voight glances at him with a stern look on your behalf “Are you still here?” he asks and you try to hide the smile that is spreading on your face at the change in Jay’s confidence “I’m going” he huffs and exits the car.

Adam drives slowly alongside Jay as he traipses along the side walk, still with the window wound down Adam leans across to speak out of your window “Make mine a double water with a side of Lemon, will you?” he grins but Jay isn’t entertained “Careful or I’ll replace it with worse” he threatens back with a sarcastic smile “No tip for you then” Adam tuts before putting his foot down to speed towards the club “Who’s pissed him off?” he questions but you choose not to answer.

You watch as Jay walks in the back entrance, giving you a look over his shoulder before heading in. Adam hands the keys over to the valet before giving him some speech about how expensive the car is and if there is so much as a scratch he will make him pay for it, how easily he slips into this kind of character is honestly baffling.. The poor man reassures Adam and drives to park the car, Adam turns to you and naturally slings his arm round your waist and settles his hand at the base of your spine to direct you. “You good?” he whispers in your ear and you nod “If you want to leave, just put your hand on my knee and I’ll make an excuse.” he calmly offers and it instantly helps calm any nerves you had, you had been undercover in clubs a few times but not with a group quite this dangerous so it would’ve been strange if you weren’t a bit on edge.

Your eyes instantly fix onto Jay who is stood behind the bar, pouring a drink and handing it to Kim. You’re not shocked to find he is already looking at you, slight worry in his eye as he chews the inside of his lip. One of his classic go to when he is anxious, you thought you were going straight to VIP but one of the men approach you and Adam first. Out of no where, a tall man in a black suit stands closely to Adam and that’s when you realise his ear piece and mic pinned to the collar of his shirt “Dan and Alice?” he asks and Adam is quick to offer his hand out to the man “that’s us, sir”. The man glances down to Adam’s hand but then ignores it, Adam returns his hand onto the small of your back with a grunt so quiet that only you could hear it. “This way, you’re late and they’re waiting for you”. He extends his arm to direct you to the VIP area “All due respect, they’re waiting on our money so we’re not in a rush” Adam jokes but the man remains stern “That’s quite the attitude you got there, he always like this sweetie?” he aims the conversation to you and you roll your eyes “Only when he doesn’t get what he wants, doesn’t happen often” you wink and notice the corners of his mouth flicker into a smile briefly before falling back to the scowl “Let’s get on with this then.” he walks round behind the pair of you, forcing you to walk ahead “What a nice guy” Adam mumbles to you, causing you to nudge his chest with your elbow as a warning “You deserved that” a voice speaks from behind you, a reminder he was hot on your heels and could hear everything you were saying “If you’ve got any other sarky comments, I suggest you get them out now because they’re not as forgiving”.

***

What seemed like a few hours had gone by and you well and truly felt like a spare part, sat on Adam’s lap as a mere trophy to impress the others. Joining in the conversation every now and then but apart from that, you remained quiet to offer a smile or the occasional sympathetic laugh. “You wouldn’t mind going to grab us some drinks, darlin’?” one of the men leans forward to you and hands you his empty glass. You don’t accept his gesture as you leave the glass in his hand and don’t make any effort to move “Isn’t that what the staff are for? Shit VIP area if you have to get your own drinks” you scoff and run your fingers through Adam’s hair “Be a good girl and run along, the men have some business to discuss” he winks and you instantly feel you could vomit. “Just grab us a bottle off the top shelf and some glasses, isn’t hard” Adam stares down the man before he taps your leg and places a kiss to your shoulder “Won’t be long baby, you might find some friends at the bar” you grimace a smile at him and huff as you stand from his lap, ensuring you pull down your dress to have some attempt in covering your ass as you head down the stairs.

Jay already has his eyes on you as you scan over to the bar, taking a mental note of where Kim’s stood and making your way over to her. You lean forward on the bar to Jay, knowing full well your chest is very much extenuated as he struggles to keep his eyes up “A bottle of your finest whiskey and 5 glasses, we’re in VIP so you can just bring them over. Thanks” you demand and hold up the VIP card you had been given to add to the tab.

“Doesn’t work that way angel, you take your own drinks. I’m not a server” Jay is quick to hit back, clearly enjoying his new role “Whatever, just get me the bottle and a shot of vodka” you put the card on his side of the bar and turn to lean your back on the bar and look towards Adam.

“Everything alright?” Kim quietly asks from beside you as Jay places the shot on the bar, you pick it up as quick as it is put down and drink it in one “Splendid”.

“Are you gonna take this, or?” Jay pipes up from behind you, you turn to look at him and he truly is a sight. Bar towel slung over his shoulder, shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a slight glisten on his skin “No you’re gonna bring it for me.” you smile and strut away from the bar. Jay looks over to Kim who tries to hide her smile in her hand as he rolls his eyes “Voight, never give her this role again. She’s relishing in it far too much” Jay grumbles into the microphone hidden in his collar, Kim is quick to speak back before Jay can walk away “Don’t listen to him Sarge, I think he’s secretly enjoying seeing her in a short dress and heels”.

You can sense Jay watching intently as you make your way up the stairs in front of him, only urging you to swing your hips more with every step. You reach the top and situate yourself next to Adam at the table, Jay makes no delay to turn his attention back onto the drinks and you laugh to yourself at how obvious you found it to be. “Just there is fine, thanks pretty boy” you wink at Jay who grins down at you “Pretty boy?” the tall man, you soon learn to be named Eric questions “You better watch out, he might have her off you” he raises his brows as he drinks “No chance mate, she ain’t going anywhere” Adam runs his hand up and down your leg, stopping at the hem of your dress.

“Besides, she ain’t gonna go for him. Look at him, a server at a bar isn’t exactly who you want to be with is it?” Adam chuckles and you feel your stomach pull, even knowing Adam was only speaking in his character it still didn’t sit right with you that he was saying those things about Jay “I don’t know, he’s pretty cute” you hit back as Jay stands awkwardly, still pouring the liquid into cold glasses in front of you. Adam runs his hand along his jawline and huffs in a laugh before wrapping his arm round you and pulling you onto his lap and away from Jay “We can pour our own drinks, you can go now”” he adds and Jay nods “have a nice night”.

His eyes linger on you for a split second before heading back down the stairs to the bar, you could tell he was pissed off just by the way his shoulders were tight and his back was straight as he returns to the bar. You turn your attention back to the group of men, one of which was staring at you far too hungrily which you tried to avoid but couldn’t for much longer as he placed himself next to you on the leather sofa “Mind if I have 5 minutes with your girl? I’ll get her out the way while you all settle up” The man asks and you grip onto Adam’s sholder, hoping he would get the hint of how you didn’t want him to agree “Think I’ll keep her with me if that’s alright, don’t want her causing trouble” Adam jokes but Eric clearly wasn’t taking no for an answer “Come on sweetie, just a bit of fresh air is all. Won’t be long”. You could tell he wasn’t going to let up so patted Adam on the chest and gave him a reassuring smile “I’m sure I’ll be fine”.

You yet again made your way down the stairs, followed closely by Eric who was quick to place his hand at the nape of your neck to guide you towards the exit. You walked past the bar and Jay looked concerned, followed by a scowl on Kim’s face as she watched you get rushed past “Sarge, Y/N is being led out by a white male. 6′4, black hair with a white shirt. She doesn’t exactly look happy about it”. Kim speaks into her microphone and not second goes by before Jay chimes in “Want me to follow?” he asks but Voight doesn’t respond.

“We haven’t got eyes, they came out but have gone round the back. It’d be too obvious for us to move but I can follow on foot?” Hailey speaks over the radio, Jay looks at Kim with a panic as silence is still coming from Voight “Sarge, we need answer” Kevin adds but still nothing “I’m going after them” Jay huffs and slams a glass onto the bar “No, leave her for a few minutes. She will be fine” Voight’s voice finally emerges but Jay isn’t happy “Are you serious? Some guy has taken her out of sight are you’re happy to sit back and do nothing?” he spits back, standing with his back to the club to avoid raising suspicion “All change to channel 5, you’ll be able to listen into her microphone and then we can decide when to move in” Voight demands as Jay and Kim switch their devices as instructed “Is he fucking serious? If something happens to her I’ll-” Jay leans forward, onto the bar near Kim. “Can still hear you, Halstead” Voight interrupts over the radio and Jay scoffs “Good.”

***

#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead #one chicago #chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #jay halstead drabble #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead smut #one chicago x reader #jay halstead x you #jesse lee soffer

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writefightandflightclub · 4 years ago

Text

Too much information (Frankie Morales x GN reader)

Summary: you’re dating Frankie in secret, and Pope is on to you. Brunch probably isn’t the best place to put his interrogation skills to use, but do you really think that’s going to stop him?! No, me neither.

Author’s note: this is just a quick, silly, shortish blurb. Nothing special but the scene popped into my head and then my finger slipped, so here you go. It’s mainly between reader and Pope, but you are dating Frankie and he does appear.

Warnings: not really. Food mention.

GIF by @themarcusmoreno

“Is that ‘Fish’s t-shirt?” Pope asks bluntly, as he settles into the booth opposite you, the group gradually gathering for lunch. You had arrived first, and begun perusing the menu.

“Normal people might shoot for a hello,” you josh, standing and leaning over the table to greet him with a kiss on the cheek.

“Yeah, that too,” he grins. “Well, is it?”

Before you retake your seat, you take a quick look down at the garment in question. A marled-grey band shirt.

“No,” you answer adamantly, crinkling your face in confusion. “It’s not.”

“You sure?” Pope presses, and he leans in, resting on his folded arms. His stare is intense, and you suddenly feel like you’re in an interrogation. You suddenly feel very sorry indeed for his prior subjects, considering this is a mere taster of the intensity they were subjected to.

“Yes,” you say in a level voice, looking him dead in the eye.

“Hmm,” he nods, considering it, his hand rasping over his stubble. He takes a menu too, from the stash at the far-end of the booth. You hope he’s dropping the topic, but no such luck. “See. You already made one mistake,” he breezes, and you squirm in your seat. “You checked. You looked down, as if it could be Frankie’s t-shirt.”

You saw your jaw from side-to-side.

“Which I’m pretty sure it is,” he adds with a flourish of his hand, his eyes flashing with a smug pride.

“It’s not,” you snap, staring him down until he raises his hands in surrender.

“Okay.”

Finally. You look down at the menu, selecting your burger and milkshake combo. But he’s not done yet. Of course. Air seethes out out your nose. “Looks like his though. Doesn’t really fit you either. Not really your usual style,” he muses, as if ticking off a checklist in his head.

You huff, and look back up at him. “You have too much time on your hands, Pope. How’s that job-hunt coming? Or, actually, when did you last get laid? Think you need to find somewhere to direct all this excess energy.”

You should have said yes. Should have made-up an excuse about how you needed to borrow some clothes. Because it definitely is Frankie’s t-shirt.

He knows it. But if you admit it is Frankie’s t-shirt, at this point, you are admitting a whole lot more besides.

“Now now. No need to get personal.” You wish you could knock the shit-eating grin off his face. “Just answer the question.”

“This is how I wear my clothes now,” you say, gesturing down at yourself. It’s flimsy and you know it.

“Okay.”

You’re really starting to hate the way he says that.

He’s quiet for a beat, and you think he may have given up, but, to your ire, apparently not. Instead, Pope leans over the table and presses his nose right into your shoulder, taking a whiff. “Kinda smells like his detergent too.”

You pull back from him in disbelief. He recognises his detergent? “That’s fucked up, Pope. Why are you so obsessed with Frankie?”

Your comments don’t seem to rile him. Instead, Pope’s eyes flash with a sudden knowledge.

Balls. That was your second mistake. You called him “Frankie”. Not “‘Fish”. Fuck. You flare your nostrils in annoyance and only hope that Pope missed it.

“Well? Explain that. Why does it smell like... Frankie?” No chance that he missed it, then?

“Guess we use the same brand,” you dismiss, propping your chin on one of your hands as you continue to review the specials, in an attempt to obscure your face.

“Uh-huh. Okay.” You bristle. There it is again. Maybe he simply irritates all of his subjects into confessing. He’s certainly irritating enough for that to be plausible. “So, let’s recap, shall we? You dress like him now, and use his detergent? Why are you so obsessed with him?”

“He’s a role model for us all, pendejo.”

He ticks up an eyebrow, looking distinctly unimpressed by your insult.

“Pendejo?”

“And I really mean that,” you say, with a saccharine smile, even as you reach across and bat his cap from his head with a quick boop under the brim.

He half rolls his eyes at you, and yet you can tell he’s biting back a smile as he scoops it up from where it landed and places it by his side on the seat.

“So you weren’t at his place last night?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the “p” and refusing to look-up.

“Didn’t arrive together and stagger your entry to avoid being caught? Because I’m pretty sure his truck’s parked out front and yours... isn’t. And yet here you are, and here he’s not.”

Well. You don’t have an answer for that one. Not right away.

Pope grins smugly, enjoying that he’s getting under your skin.

Shit, where is Frankie? Where are the Millers? Literally anyone. Pope evidently thinks you’re the weak link while you’re alone, and you’re not doing a whole lot to prove him wrong.

“I walked here,” you say weakly.

Pope even goes so far as to dip his head under the table.

“In those boots? Don’t they kill your feet?”

Well at least he was paying attention when the boys made you walk all the way across town that time, to get to this one “must-visit” dive bar. Kinda sweet he remembered actually. Unless, of course, he simply gathers information to use it against you, during times like this, for example.

Eyes drawn away from the booth, you finally see Frankie walk through the door, and you let out a breath of relief. Still, as Pope raises a thick eyebrow at you, examining every expression on your face, you try to avoid looking at Frankie altogether, just so you don’t give anything away.

Pleasantly oblivious, Frankie comes in and settles right next to you in the booth.

“Hey,” he says brightly to the both of you, before smiling at you a little too long, and so -subtly but pointedly- you bump his knee with yours to alert him to play it a little cool. He doesn’t get the memo. Instead, he points down at your torso, without thinking. “Is that my t-shirt?”

Your eyes flutter closed to the sound of a smug, victorious laugh from Pope. Groaning, you put your head in your hands, peeking at your interrogator through your fingers. You watch him lean back in the booth, raising his arms to rest his head on his interlaced fingers, and a smug grin extending over his face.

“Fucking knew it.”

Quickly putting it together, with a gasp of breath, Frankie realises what he’s said. He quickly tries to smooth it over with some elaborate excuse, but you place your hand on his denim-clad thigh and gently shake your head. “He knows, Frankie,” you sigh. “He’s on to us. Basically interrogated me.”

There is a heated and mile-a-minute exchange between the two men in Spanish, and it sounds animated but is clearly somewhat good-natured, typical of their dynamic. Then, Frankie turns back to you. “You know how to shut him up, though?” he smiles. “Give him too much information.”

And he’s not wrong. As soon as Frankie begins to start describing a list of hypothetical activities from last night in vivid detail, Santi quickly holds his hands up in defeat. “Woah, Buddy. Alright. I get it. Fuck.”

Honestly - these two. You roll your eyes, even as you shake out a laugh.

“Hell. I need a drink,” you express, and you step away to the bar, leaving your interrogation behind for a moment.

As you look on though, it seems like poor Frankie’s interrogation is only just beginning.

“So, how long has this been happening?” Santi asks warmly.

“How long do you think?” Frankie asks out of curiosity- wanting to assess Pope’s abilities.

The man weighs it up, his hand smoothing over his stubble. “One month, give or take.”

“Three,” Frankie confirms, a hint of pride flashing in his soft, brown eyes as he realises you’ve outdone Pope, even for a little while.

In contrast though, victory is suddenly the last thing on Pope’s mind, and he’s more concerned with how damn happy his friend looks as he reveals this information. Pope mirrors Frankie’s wide, beaming smile, and he reaches across the table to deliver a few solid, congratulatory pats to his shoulder. “I’m happy for you, man.”

Frankie’s smile lingers, and he steals a sweeping glance over at you as you lean-up against the bar, his eyes shining as he takes you in.

“How’s it going between you? This a serious thing or just fucking?” Pope asks, although he could hazard a pretty safe guess.

Frankie’s hands disappear into the sleeves of his cord jacket, and his eyelashes flutter bashfully. “I’m in love, man. I’m in some deep shit.”

Santi smiles, tapping Frankie on the arm and giving him a heads-up that you’re on your way back over with the drinks.

You smile brightly at him from across the way, and Pope looks between the two of you. Frankie certainly does look like a goner, he considers.

“Plus - shit,” Frankie adds quickly, in the moment before you come back into earshot. “Seeing them in my t-shirt is Doing Things for me, man.”

“Hermano,” he chuckles. “That’s too much information.”

You arrive back to the table to the sound of Frankie’s delightfully throaty chuckle - your second favourite sound in the world (since hooking-up, you have found one noise he makes which is even better). As you slide in beside the boys, you see the doors swing as the Millers enter the establishment in tandem.

You gaze at Frankie for a few moments, and you steal a final glance back at Pope. He’s still looking at you, but now he looks satisfied, as if he’s put a final piece of the puzzle together.

You don’t know it, but Pope’s suddenly deeply happy for his friends. He has the final piece of information, and to him, it’s quite plain to see. You’re clearly in love; and you’re evidently a complete goner for Frankie too.

“Hey, Millers- did you know these two are hooking-up in secret?” Pope asks loudly as the brothers join you around the table.

Well - he’s got it partly right. You are hooking-up, but it obviously isn’t a secret anymore.

You could care less.

When Frankie takes your hand under the table, giving it a little squeeze, you can’t help the smile which lights your face. Suddenly, you can’t help wanting to tell the whole world that Frankie is your man. And, what better people to begin with than your squad?

#Frankie Morales x reader #Frankie Morales #Pedro Pascal #triple frontier #frankie catfish morales x reader

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asavt · 3 years ago

Text

Another cookie squad Headcanons

Featuring Sparkling, Vampire, cellphones and the Espresso and Madeleine Story of how they came together. Consider it an AU now baby!

-As a note, when I say the squad I'm mostly referring to the adults, so no worries about Walnut or Creampuff useless I mention them too

-Each one of the squad has been in Sparkling's bar at last once. There's no need to say who has been there the most. Sparkling has a time every time someone besides Roguefort comes, because to him it's mostly like "Oh I'll finally know the continuation to the burnt toast accident or maybe the cat catastrophe? Maybe a new POV of the--"

He practically knows a lot of what happens in between the squad.

-As another note, Sparkling's bar is called Milabo (You know, like the song from Zutomayo of the same name, which, btw, I relate a lot to Latte)

-*A great part of this “AU” is kind of inspired by the song. Part of its lyrics and vibe.

-Vampire is there most of the time when the squad visits the bar (it's almost as if he never leaves the bar and this is definitely not me low-key putting sparkvamp in this oh no--) Sometimes the fakes his sleep to listen to the things others say (Which is how he knows most of Rogue's pan-ic).

-Walnut has been in Sparkling's bar too, but at day and for case-solving purposes only. Sparkling will give her some alcohol-free drink for free sometimes (mostly because he gets along pretty well with the nut family and because Almond usually pays him whatever he serves her).

-If the squad had cellphones (and probably an app like discord because.), their group chat would initially be called "Coffee mage appreciation group" and then be changed to "Coffee bean appreciation group"

Coffee Bean: Can we please change the group name and mine?

Guided by the Devine: No <3

Coffee Bean: Fuck you.

-*And they all would dedicate half their time to make fun of Almond but with love.

-Espresso has been mistaken for a dark mage before by Almond. It was how they meet actually. Almond had pulled him to interrogate him and got a long lecture on the differences between black magic and coffee magic.

-Madeleine gets along rather well with Roguefort. Rogue seems impressed by Maddie’s acting skills.

-Madeleine is currently living with Espresso. Out of his armor most of the time. He usually takes care of keeping the house clean and preparing meals (He never really had to cook before but the first dish he made wasn’t bad at all). Sometimes he will tag along Almond in the detective’s work, or Almond will ask for his help.

-I’m still unsure if I want the Almond/Roguefort/Latte to be romantic or platonic. But honestly? Both are good. Latte is pretty close to Almond and Roguefort but not in the way she is with Espresso (that makes them look like siblings jkashduawhu). Perhaps I’ll keep it platonic.

-The Espresseleine/Madespresso story of how they came together, because I seem to not be able to write it down JSHALDHUIWADWA-

--It happens after the Puppet Show mini quest. Madeleine starts to ask for Espresso's "assistance" in different mission that are given to him. Angel is there too, of course.

--During these missions is that Essy clarifies that no, they are not friends, no, he does not like Madeleine. Bringing up the knight begin too prideful and self-centered if not all then most of the time.

--Is not until one of their missions goes wrong, were Angel is knocked out and Espresso (seeing and knowing that if Madeleine is knocked down too they might not be able to go back to the kingdom ever) pretty much receives a rather big attack for Madeleine is that he kind realizes the facts given by espresso true. All while he is carrying Essy and Angel back to the kingdom, running and exhausted too.

--Clover begin kind of a mediator between the two (I want to see more of my son--)

--"Devine, protect us" Should happen too after this. An scenario like, Madeleine coming to think something like "I'm the shield, the one who goes on the front line and receives the blows for those who can't, always looking straight ahead... but if I am doing that then who watches my back? Who do I rely on and trust to take care of most enemies so the damage received is not overwhelming...?"

Power of team work baby!!!

--As a note to this, Maddie getting his cape damaged as well as his hair. So, you get short hair Maddie~

(I've been drawing him with short hair in secret now I have an excuse to show)

-- "You...cut your hair..." *Madeleine touches the points of it with one of his hands, pensive* "...pft it'll grow back!"

--There's also this "Search for your own light" thing between Angel and Maddie. Angel encouraging Madeleine to do so. Maybe Madeleine giving his best wishes to them for their wish to fly before they decide to part ways.

--Madeleine trying other ways to befriend Essy. Which at first Espresso mistaken as the knight usual attempts to befriend anyone he sees out of habit and attention seeking, but once they realize the feeling is completely genuine, Espresso is rather perplexed.

--"You can't just befriend people by buying them gifts (although I do appreciate them)" "Then what?" "hmm..."

--Said gifts used to be rather expensive things, simple though. Eventually Madeleine settles to just pass by Espresso's place, give him any food he had bought that day (which usually is glazed donuts), ask if he needs any help with something (getting a vase, materials, moving things), and if not then he just says his good byes, best wishes and silently leaves. (A note on the "silently leaves": Madeleine is pretty much used to speak loudly and enter loudly anywhere, he still does this at this point, but when it's about Espresso he is a bit more quiet, a bit showy over his entrances still, but less loud, and he actually knocks the door)

--Madeleine eventually manages to go out with Espresso to other places that aren't some place in the forest full of enemies. Probably after some more visits to his place and more calm talks between the two, Madeleine brings up that Espresso tends to act a bit cold or distant towards a lot of people, and that, although he understands his discomfort at begin in public spaces or too long out of his work, he should try and open up a bit. This reminds Essy of a certain friend he hasn't seen in some time, and from whom he keeps getting letters.

--Shenanigans.

--There's still some bickering between the two, always with a playful undertone though.

--Espresso explains Madeleine, one time the knight has gotten Espresso wrapped in a blanket burrito again and got him to bed, that sometimes, no matter how tired he might feel, he is simply unable to sleep. Part of a headcanon of mine that coffee magic has this side effect on it's users, prolonged usage of this kind of magic will induce a high caffeine kind of state, which on the long run can fuck up the user's sleep schedule. Madeleine understands this, but remains stubborn about keeping Espresso in the bed so at last he can get some rest from his work and clear his mind a little, the idiot falls asleep in the process and Espresso doesn't try to wake him up.

--This happens several times after, neither of them thinking of the implications of not begin bothered by the sudden closeness they share until it's too late.

--Espresso realizes first that he has slowly, yet nicely, fallen for Madeleine. I think I talked about this before but I'll do it again: Is in one of the times Madeleine has gotten Espresso to bed to get some rest, Espresso not begin able to fall asleep and Madeleine doing again. Is while he thinks of how he has gotten to know Madeleine for real, not the Knight Commander from a noble family or the Chosen by the Devine, but as he is, that he comes to think that "Ah.... I love him" and he remains calm about it.

--Espresso doesn't overthink it, just thinks that, if Madeleine ever got an interest in him, he would surely show it. So he waits. Even if in the end his feelings aren't mutual he knows he'll do just fine remaining friends.

--Madeleine realizes not many days after. And the realization hits him like a truck. Alone in his place and probably in bed looking at the ceiling thinking about Espresso. Once he realizes and thinks about it a bit more his face gets all red and chooses to scream in the pillow.

--He would think about telling Espresso as soon as he can, after all, he doesn't want his feelings to make their friendship weird. He values it, a lot. Maybe because his friendship with Espresso it's the first one where he genuinely wanted to become friends with someone.

--Espresso takes the confession calmly, gets all flustered after they kiss for the first time.

--As a few extras of this: Madeleine goes back to the Republic, asked to be seen by his family and Espresso goes to Parfedia, where a few students have applied to his class to his surprise. When they see each other again is at Parfedia (Madeleine sending a message to Espresso beforehand about his arrival) -there was this one drawing I did once of Maddie running to hug Espresso, something like that happens-. Madeleine gets very clingy for some reason, which they speak later and comes out as “Home doesn’t quite feel like home…” “Why is that?” “I don’t know… maybe I’ve become used to be around you”

--Espresso lets ends up letting Madeleine stay with him until he either feels like returning to the Republic or is called back, whatever happens first (though none will happen for maybe a year or a little more).

--Ends with Madeleine meeting Latte and Almond.

#Headcanon time baby!#The cookie squad #Espresso Cookie #Madeleine cookie #espresseleine #madespresso #Roguefort cookie #Almond cookie #Latte Cookie #Sparkling cookie #Vampire cookie #Walnut cookie #Bar gays

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sylverstorms · 4 years ago

Text

Miranda x Mia---- Eternal

A Ko-Fi commission I wrote for the wonderful @saltwatereulogies. Thank you so very much for the support and I hope you enjoy the fic!

Drip. Splatter.

The first sound you’re aware of is that of the occasional waterdrop crashing onto the same humid, uneven floor you’re lying on.

The second is the sound of her voice.

“Rise and shine.” she says, somewhere off to the side. You are still too disoriented to pinpoint exactly where.

You’re not dizzy enough, though, to not immediately realize you’re trapped. The way the light behind your captor shines makes it all the more obvious, casting large shadows in the shape of your prison bars across your small, moldy cell.

“Y-you…” you struggle to talk. Your throat is too dry and your temples pound like a war drum. It feels like you’ve collided with a truck. And yet her voice commanding you to sleep is the last thing you remember.

“I haven’t formally introduced myself. Though I’m sure your friend has told you about me.”

You blink to make your vision focus yet it’s hopeless. She is but a dark blur to you –am I hallucinating or are those wings?

“My name is Miranda.”

Suddenly, that name snaps everything into focus so sharply you could get whiplash. You’re on your knees the next second, just about ready to leap at her. She’s the one. The one Chris warned you about. She may look like an angel but she is a devil.

“I don’t care who the hell you are! What do you want from me?!” you demand.

“Your cooperation in my experiments, for starters.” she says it calmly, but she is no fool to believe you’ll just agree to that, you can see it in her crystal-blue eyes.

“Ha! As if!” you retort.

“Well. That answer will change when I have Rose.” The name of your daughter makes every nerve ending in your body kick at once.

“What. Like Ethan will just hand her over to the likes of you?”

“Actually.”

A slow smirk crosses her full lips. Then their shape changes to match yours. All of her does, until you are left looking at a perfect mirror of yourself. Only, there’s no way you look quite that good inside of this shitty cell.

“He’ll hand her over to you.”

When she laughs, it is your own voice haunting your ears.

She has your daughter. She has your everything in her hands. So, she has your cooperation, as well.

Miranda doesn’t really talk when she comes to collect blood samples for whatever experiments she needs them. Your initial cries and questions were muted the second she told you the more helpful and less annoying you are, the more inclined she’ll feel to bring Rose to you for a while.

In the end, you do let yourself be her docile little lab rat.

Until you literally can’t take the silence anymore.

“Was it really… that easy?” ‘To enter my home and take my daughter’ you want to add but you can’t even get the words past your throat.

She seems to understand, though. “Effortless.” she isn’t being cocky as she says it. In fact, she seems almost surprised herself. At least, from the angle you get of her face, while she’s studying a strange rock-like substance under a microscope.

“How the hell did Ethan not figure out you aren’t me?!” That moron. He just gave your daughter to her. That clueless moron!

For a split second, you see her lip twitch in what could, perhaps, be a withheld smile. “I was there for a day, so. Seems like your husband doesn’t know you quite that well.”

Is it really fair to blame him for not knowing you, though? With the secrets you’ve kept from him? The distance? The trauma from the shared nightmare you experienced coming back to you every time you even looked at him?

God, Rose really is the only thing that kept you together, isn’t she…

It’s easy to hate the accursedly beautiful bitch outside your cell. It’s easy to blame Ethan for not even suspecting something was amiss with you for a whole damn day.

It is not so easy to blame yourself as much as you do them.

Miranda replies when you ask her things, so you ask her about herself. To your surprise, she does not shroud her motives from you.

She has lost her daughter, she tells you, and the only way to get her back is through yours. For the first time since you met her, you see emotion clearly expressed in her eyes and voice. You recognize how she longs to be with her child again.

You can understand the never-ending grief of a mother losing her offspring. You know if anything happened to Rose you would rather fling yourself off a cliff than live a life without her.

And apparently, that is what she tried to do, too. She tried to die –and discovered life instead. That is what she calls it, anyway. All you can hear as she explains is that she found –and founded— the Mold. The same one that ruined your husband and you.

One more reason to hate the psycho witch.

And yet.

When you try to reach for the rage you previously held for her, you find that it’s gone. You’re bitter, you’re exhausted, you want to cry and above everything you want to see Rose again. But you don’t loathe her as you should.

“What do you mean… the only way to get Eva back is through Rose?” you dare ask after several minutes of silence.

She turns to look at you, eyes as piercing as they are blue. “Technically, the trade is simple.” Maybe you’re losing it from the stress and lack of sleep, but you think she almost hesitates for a second. “…a life for a life.”

As soon as she speaks and the meaning of her words registers in your mind, you’re gripping at the rusty iron bars with all your might, rattling them, shouting profanities at her. You are back to hating her all over again. It’s much simpler this way.

Until… she walks over and grabs your hand over the metal. Her touch is oddly warm for such a glacial heart. You cannot tell what she does to you, but it feels like an aura flowing through your system that silences you. Calms you. You do not want to be calm.

“I wasn’t finished.” she speaks. “That is where the experiments with you come in. By running tests on your blood and Rose’s and using my DNA as a medium, during the ritual I can trick the Megamycete into giving me what I want through a form of mitosis. Essentially, cell duplication that will not override the existing vessel.”

To be honest… you lost her midway through the very first sentence. You were quite good with biology back in the day but right now, in the state you’re in, science is going right over your head.

“...Is there an English version of that.” you ask.

Her mouth curves into that almost-smile again. It would be quite gorgeous, actually, if she hadn’t kidnapped you, infiltrated your home as you and abducted your daughter.

“If the tests succeed, you get your daughter back, I get mine from cloned DNA and Mold cells.” There’s a hint of pride in her voice as she says it.

And now, assuming she’s telling the truth, you want those tests to succeed more than you want to get out of here. Her hand leaves yours and the weird calm she blasted into you dissipates with it.

“Wait. So…” Realization strikes you like a thunderclap. “So these tests are for me?”

“You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t say thank you, you crazy b—blonde.” You rattle the iron bars again, a tad weaker than before. She does smirk over the microscope, this time. “How likely are the tests to succeed?” you ask impatiently.

“Quite.” she replies, flat once again.

“…And if they don’t?” you hate how your voice shakes there, at the end.

She looks at you, dead in the eyes, as she answers: “I am getting my daughter back either way, Mia.”

You can’t believe it. You cannot believe you’re thinking this, but you hope the crazy bitch knows what she’s doing.

Miranda is… despicable, but she is a woman of her word.

She brings you Rose for hours at a time and in exchange you help her outside of your cell. You thought your daughter would be in a worse condition, considering who keeps her, yet she’s healthy as ever, well-fed and clean. The worst part is, she laughs every time Miranda comes close and she even reaches out for her.

“No, my darling, don’t do that.” you tell her, tucking her tighter in your arms, before the woman behind you notices what’s happening.

Except it’s too late. “Ah, I see.” Miranda speaks, coming up to you from behind. She’s tall enough to lean over your shoulder and wave at Rose, who moves both hands towards her. “A lady of taste.” the woman praises and the lightness to her voice almost makes her sound like someone else. Someone normal.

“Stop it.” You turn your child away from her. “She’s just confused because you’re lit up like a Christmas tree.” You motion with your chin at her getup.

Miranda chuckles. “What. She senses our bond. Rose feels safe with me.”

Safe with the monster who wants to sacrifice her to get her own child back. You cannot swallow that thought down. “But she’s not, is she?!” you snap.

“She is.” Miranda reverts to her cool facade, glancing down at your daughter. “I will never let anything hurt her. And when she gives me Eva back, I will make sure she grows up bathed in luxury.”

It’s the Mold, you’re sure of it.

It’s the Mold’s fault that you believe her.

You were supposed to see Rose today. Instead, Miranda comes into the cave alone, looking irritated. You start to worry. Nothing phases her without a good reason. What if—

“Where’s my daughter?!” you demand, eyes wide.

“We have a problem.” she tells you. Your blood goes cold in your veins. “A problem named Ethan Winters.”

“Ethan?” you gasp.

“He is trying to get Rose back and according to reports from the Lords under me, he cannot be killed. His hand got cut off and he just reattached it. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” she’s certain that you know. You can see it in her steely eyes.

“I— why would I—”

“Before you think to lie to me, hear something else. I bear good news, as well.” Miranda says. “I have succeeded in my experiments. During the ritual, I can guarantee Rose will remain unharmed and unchanged.” the edge of her lip curls up as she delivers the news. You almost cry from the sheer relief.

You almost leap forward and hug her, yet you remember who she is and that she caused this mess in the first place.

“But my conditions have changed.” her voice is a sword that cuts off your happiness just like that. You knew it was too good to be true. “For me to save Rose, you will tell me how to permanently get rid of Ethan Winters.”

…What?

She wants you to… trade your daughter for your husband? How the hell can I do that?!

“He has ruined too much for me to let him walk away happily now.” Her jaw is tight enough to sprout new lines on her flawless face. She wants him dead and she always gets what she wants. “He has killed colleagues of mine. Spat in the face of a damn-near god. I will have his head.”

The corners of your eyes sting with welling tears. Your body is far more honest than you in making a decision. Nobody is too important to sacrifice when it comes to your daughter. Not yourself. Not Ethan. And Miranda knows this better than anybody else. You loathe how she knows.

“Give him to me, Mia. And in a few days this whole thing will be over.” she continues in a significantly softer tone, getting closer to you. Her wings shift, the very edge of black feathers brushing your arms.

“You want me to aid in killing the father of my child?!” you sob, grabbing at her clothes. You’d expect her to shove you away, but she doesn’t move. She doesn’t even blink.

“You have been so cooperative and so brave.” she soothes, gold-taloned fingers coming underneath your chin. “Make one last sacrifice for me. Help me murder Ethan so Rose can live. Help me and I vow to be her eternal guardian angel. Hers and yours.”

She could just force the answer out of you. She’s touching you and you know she has that power. But she doesn’t do it and it’s far worse this way. She wants it to be your choice.

You look away from Miranda’s icy eyes and her promises of everything.

And you tell her.

You do not ask about Ethan. All that’s in your mind is the ceremony.

For the entire morning, you cannot breathe. You trace notes in her lab and pace around until you literally feel like you’ll explode—

And then Miranda comes in. She is radiant, smiling from ear to ear, glowing with pure joy. She looks every part the goddess she pretends to be. The golden circle usually adorning her back is gone, her long blonde hair is left free to flow like fine strands of silk past her square shoulders.

“It is done!” she tells you, a hand extended for you to take. “Come. I’ll take you to Rose and you will be the first to meet Eva.”

Her hand is warm when it closes around yours. Black wings shroud you both. There is a gravitational pull around you that’s so intense you shut your eyes and grab onto her biceps for dear life.

“You can look, now.” she speaks once the world is stable again. Your gut is churning, yet every bit of exhaustion and discomfort vanish the second you see Rose. She is safe within the first of the two golden cribs in front of you, bathed by the soft sunlight that disperses across the luxurious, dark-tiled chamber you’re in.

You run towards her, lifting your daughter in your arms and kissing her forehead over and over. She laughs at you, blue eyes crinkled. My love. My everything, you think. Everything was worth it for this moment. And you would do it all again, to ensure her safety.

Miranda’s steps, regal and authoritative, come to a stop near the other crib. You lean closer, take a look… to see another little angel there, sleeping peacefully. She resembles Rose, yet she resembles Miranda, too.

“Oh my God.” you breathe. “You really did it.”

“I did it and you and Rose made it possible, Mia.” she says. Your child extends a tiny hand towards her. She removes one of her claws and lets her finger be taken in your baby’s grip. “You don’t have to leave. She loves me already.” A proud smile curves her lips.

You hate how it looks like a sunrise.

You hate it even more that you understand why Rose is so charmed.

“Her mom can grow to love me, too.” Crystal eyes look into your own. “There is no place safer than by my side. Stay and we will raise them together. You won’t have to fear disease or death with me. You and Rose will have every little thing you could ever want. Forever.”

You don’t want your child to be co-patented by this selfish megalomaniac, who is the killer of her father. But. Then you stop to consider what you have been through until now. Nightmare after nightmare; this vicious cycle does not look like it will be broken. One thing or another will haunt you and hunt you wherever you go. You don’t want that life for Rose.

You won’t accept that life for Rose.

“…we will stay. But you can forget that part about me growing any fonder of you than I am now.”

Miranda nods, but something in her expression is so damn cocky you want to smack her. “Oh, what’s that, Rose? You can tell your mother is lying, too? My genius girl.”

Your jaw drops. She is my genius girl!

Miranda then touches your chin and tilts it up. You don’t want to be any closer to the gorgeous fucking witch, but when she stops there, hovering just over your mouth for a skipped heartbeat, looking down at you with those crystalline eyes of hers, you’re paralyzed.

Her lips slide over your own for just one slick, hot second. When she pulls back, she caresses Rose’s cheek and winks at you.

“I hate you.” you say, yet it holds no real bite. God, you’re exhausted.

“That’s alright. We have all the time in the world to change that.”

#resident evil village #resident evil 8 #mother miranda #mia winters #mother miranda x mia #fanfiction #rosemary winters #rose winters #ethan winters #comission #writing #Where Miranda wins and takes everything and more #hail winged hottie goddess

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cloudywriter · 3 years ago

Text

promposals

rowaelin month - september 1st

prompt: i just realized i’m desperately in love with you

hey guys!! it’s finally rowaelin month and i’m literally so excited you have no idea. sadly, i don’t have time to do every day but i’ll do as many as i can. i can’t wait to see what everyone comes up with. happy writing/reading! (this is just some straight fluff)

masterlist, AO3

~~~

The school was abuzz, anticipation hung thick in the hallways during each passing period. It had been that way for a week or so now with prom on the horizon. Everyone was constantly on high alert for the next promposal, most desperately hoping it would be their own. Girls hung around their lockers inconspicuously for far longer than necessary and boys tried to play it cool while secretly fretting over who to ask and how to do it.

Rowan was over it pretty quickly, but he’d likely have to suffer through the next month of promposal after promposal. Today was no different, there was an asking in the parking lot before school, one in his first-period English class, another in the hallway after. He couldn’t escape it.

Thankfully, Rowan wasn’t quite as grumpy as he used to be due to a certain blonde worming into his life a few years ago but he was still Rowan. Sullen and reserved as ever. That fateful blonde being the only one to draw him from his shell.

Rowan sighed, aimlessly scrolling around on his phone. It was the passing period before his 3rd-period class, AP Biology, and Rowan was leaning against Aelin’s locker.

Aelin always stopped by her locker after her photography class to put her camera away and then they’d head to class together. It was their routine, the same every day. Not yet broken during their entire senior year which was quickly coming to a close. That was a subject Rowan didn’t want to broach though.

He cleared his head of those unsavory thoughts. Rowan could tell yet another proposal was gearing up, Ilias came around the corner holding a poster board in one hand and a bouquet of assorted flowers in the other. At that moment too, Aelin turned the corner, giving Rowan a small smile as she hurried towards him.

Rowan’s cold resting face tugged into a smirk as she approached her already open locker. Rowan always took it upon himself to open it for her in advance, Aelin tended to fumble with the locks that required a specific number combination and artful twisting.

As Aelin stored away her camera and shut her locker door with a thud, a gasp down the hallway had them both turning around.

Ansel was there, her hand cupping her mouth, clearly unsuspecting of Ilias and his proposal. They both watched as Ansel excitedly agreed to prom with Ilias and took the flowers from his outstretched hand, pulling him into a hug.

Aelin turned her attention away from the happy couple and began to walk towards their next class, Rowan following suit. They progressed for a bit in silence until Aelin spoke up.

“I hope Chaol asks me to prom soon,” she confessed.

Rowan almost choked, that single sentence baffling him. “Chaol?” He asked incredulously.

“Or Dorian,” Aelin shrugged, crossing her arms in front of her. Rowan was suddenly feeling very panicked, like a fish that had accidentally discovered land, flopping around in search of water in a frenzy. To say he felt confused was an understatement. Rowan hadn’t given prom much of his brainpower. He hadn’t even considered asking anyone. He’d just assumed he’d go with Aelin. Why would he have thought otherwise? They did everything together; he’d expected prom would be no different.

When they sat down at their blacktop table in biology Rowan silently floundered as he tried to think over this revelation. Why would Aelin want to go with someone else? Usually, before class started, he and Aelin would joke around until the teacher told them it was time to reel it in but today Rowan stared ahead, picking at the skin of his thumb. A nervous tick he’d developed throughout high school.

Should he ask someone else then? He couldn’t even think of anyone else he tolerated enough to spend the night with. Maybe Lyria? She was nice enough, always sharing her notes with him in English when he was too busy with lacrosse to do the reading. She was quiet, soft-spoken. Absolutely nothing like the girl sat next to him. That thought made him frown. Remelle? No, he could barely stand Remelle, but he knew she liked him so at least she’d definitely say yes.

Rowan was pretty much out of luck. Aelin and his friend group were to whom his time was devoted to, he didn’t branch out much beyond them.

He thought of Aelin all dressed up, maybe in a golden gown that catered to her love of theatrics. Possibly in a deep green that complemented her bright eyes and skin tone. He imagined her with her hair loosely curled and flowing down her back. The delicate, golden Kingsflame silhouette necklace he’d gotten her for her 18th birthday clasped around her neck. It was easy for Rowan to conjure up that image but he couldn’t picture her looking like that and holding onto Chaol’s arm. It felt so intensely wrong to even consider it.

It was always him. He always imagined her with him. They were a package deal in Rowan’s mind, but apparently not in Aelin’s.

Aelin seemed to be catching onto Rowan’s internal dilemma. Throughout the duration of the class, he could feel her watching him out of the corner of her peripheral, trying to gauge what could be wrong. She stayed quiet though and dutifully continued her notes that mostly consisted of a collection of small doodles. Rowan couldn’t help but watch and wonder how she truly felt about him.

For the rest of the school day, Rowan pretty much blew Aelin off. He sat between Lorcan and Fenrys at lunch instead of the 2 seats on the right side of the circular table that always housed Aelin and himself. He told her not to wait up in the stands during his lacrosse practice and to head home on her own instead. He could tell she was confused maybe even a little hurt but Rowan couldn’t bring himself to push aside his mass of feelings that had him acting strange.

He wasn’t even completely sure what was wrong with himself. The thought of Aelin accompanying another guy to prom shouldn’t affect him like it was; they were only best friends nothing more. She had free reign to go with whoever she wanted and she could get whoever, Aelin was a beautiful girl he wasn’t blind to that. He’d just thought it’d be him.

All throughout lacrosse practice, Rowan was distracted, missing the ball or the goal when he had it, a stark difference from his usual skill. His coach had already pulled him aside once and asked if he was feeling okay only to be given a grunted yeah before putting him back in. He only grew more upset with Aelin as he pondered the day’s events instead of keeping his head in the game. Some part of him knew it was irrational but he couldn’t help it. Why wouldn’t she want to share one of their last big moments of high school together?

And that’s how he continued to feel as he made the short drive home with his hefty lacrosse bag weighing down his shoulder and his school bag heavy on his back. When he finally entered the home he sighed, the scent of his mother’s cooking filling his nostrils. Honestly, he’d rather stay up in his room and stew than sit through family dinner right now but he knew it’d only prompt more questions from his parents. So he dropped his things by the door much to his mother’s chagrin and collapsed into one of the dining table’s chairs.

“Feeling alright, son?” His father’s silver brow rose, already catching on to his foul mood.

“Yeah, just tired,” Rowan confirmed, taking a sip of water.

His mother entered then, a dish of pasta cupped between her oven mitts that she placed in the center of the table. “How was practice?” She asked sweetly, stripping her hands of their cover and sitting down.

“It was fine.”

Rowan’s mother and father exchanged a look between themselves. He was normally much more talkative, always giving them updates on school, on plays they’d done during practice, on Aelin. Rowan chose to ignore their concerned expressions and instead served himself a helping of dinner silently.

His phone buzzed then from inside the pocket of his shorts. Rowan pulled it out to check the message and frowned at the screen.

fire-breathing b queen👑 : r u okay?

He stuck his phone back into his pocket instead of typing a reply and forced himself to eat the rest of his dinner. He only half-listened to his parents’ conversation about their days and what was going on in his dad’s office. Rowan knew he was stewing again, falling into a spiral of uncertainty.

“Rowan, honey, are you sure you’re okay?” His mother pressed, worry lining her brow.

Rowan’s lips formed a thin line. No, he wasn’t okay.

In a split-second decision, Rowan decided he was done dancing around whatever was going on between him and Aelin. “I need to go,” Rowan said suddenly, standing up from his chair that loudly scraped across the floor. His parents looked surprised by his outburst but didn’t stop him as he grabbed his keys from the little table by the front entrance and left.

Rowan didn’t even need to look at the road to know the way to Aelin’s house. The route was in his bones now and within a few minutes he was pulling up in front of her large white house. He hopped out of his truck, not even bothering to lock the doors before he pounded on her green-painted front door.

The door opened with a squeak and he saw Aelin standing there in one of her nightgowns that drove Rowan absolutely mad.

“You’re not going to prom with Chaol,” he rasped, pushing the hair falling on his forehead back with his hand.

“Huh?” Aelin was clearly confused as to why Rowan had come knocking at her door without preamble.

“You’re not going with him,” Rowan once again declared, standing his ground, ready to get everything off his chest before he lost the courage.

“Ro, I don’t get what you’re going on about. He hasn’t even asked me and if he doesn’t ask me I don’t know who’d I go with,” she admitted, her hand still holding the door open and her mouth in a serious line.

Rowan surges forward at that, gripping both of Aelin’s hands in his own. “You’d go with me, Aelin. I want you to go with me,” he pleaded with her, lifting her hands up to his chest. “Aelin,” he continued, “I don’t want to go with anyone else but you. I want to do everything with you, go everywhere with you. Gods, Aelin, you’re like my reason to breathe, to get up in the morning.”

“Row-” Aelin tried to interrupt, her blue eyes going wide.

“No, just let me finish, I- I know that sounds crazy and I know it’s so out of the blue and you didn’t expect me to show up outside your door like this and start professing my feelings,” Rowan was rambling now he knew. Everything he wanted to say to her was running through his mind like a freight train so much so he struggled to express it. The words were jumbled in his mind as if they were a bowl of alphabet soup in a blender. He just needed her to know how he felt.

“I- I just, I thought about you going to prom with Chaol or some other guy all damn day and I hated it. Gods, I couldn’t figure out why I hated it so much, it just it- it felt so wrong. Fireheart, I want you to be with me. Gods, I think I’m so desperately in love with you I’m going to combust or something.” Rowan was getting flustered now, he knew his face was burning and he was sweating, maybe from the humidity or maybe from the sheer weight of what he was confessing to his best friend. “Rowan,” Aelin started once again, her face contorted in pure shock.

“I know you might not feel the same Aelin, I knew I came here risking that, and if you don’t feel the same-”

“Rowan!” Aelin said with more force, bringing her hands to cup his face. “Listen to me,” she pleaded.

Rowan stopped trying to fight her and looked at her. He felt as though his stomach might fall out. His nerves were so intense as he stared into Aelin’s golden-ringed eyes.

“You’re just so fucking stupid,” Aelin breathed.

Rowan’s brow furrowed, he certainly hadn’t expected her to say that. “Wha-” he began.

He couldn’t even finish his thought before Aelin’s lips descended upon his own. She cradled his face in her hands as her soft lips moved against his in a slow rhythm. Rowan’s brain stalled and struggled to catch up with what the hell was happening.

He just knew this felt right, this felt so gods-damn right.

His hands were loosely wrapped around her wrists and they traveled lightly over her arms and moved to rest on her back and pull her into him.

Her body molded against his own. It felt like the final bit of a 50,000 piece puzzle had finally fallen into place after years of pouring over it. Rowan kissed Aelin back with just as much fever, desperate to keep her lips on his own. He brushed his tongue along the seam of her lips and she pulled back.

They both stood there, gulping down air as they stared at each other trying to navigate this unimaginable revelation.

“You’re- you’re not going to prom with Chaol, right?” Rowan finally managed to ask.

“No,” Aelin breathed. “I’ll go with you, I’ll always go with you.”

Their lips met once again.

~~~

day one down. stay tuned and have a wonderful day, xoxo

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