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disastermages · 3 years ago

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[read it on ao3]

“Shijie, how do I make soup?” Wei Wuxian wrestles the phone between his shoulder and his ear while he tries and fails to dig through Lan Zhan’s pots and pans quietly. He needs a stock pot, Wei Wuxian knows that much, and carrots and celery and onions. That’s how Jiang Yanli starts most of her soups, he’s seen her cook and pretended to help her enough times to know that.

On the other end, Wei Wuxian hears Jiang Yanli hum laugh softly, “A-Xian, if you’re hungry, you can just come over, I’ll even send you home with leftovers.” It makes Wei Wuxian smile, but he shakes his head, even though his sister can’t see him.

“It’s not for me, Shijie, Lan Zhan is sick, and I want to make something to help him feel better.” Lan Zhan still hadn’t even admitted to being sick by the time Wei Wuxian had convinced him to lay back down. Lan Zhan had been too tired and too uncertain on his feet to argue, not that he could have stopped Wei Wuxian from putting him to bed.

They were supposed to go out for dinner, but Wei Wuxian had canceled that reservation while he sat beside Lan Zhan, running his fingers through sweat-dampened hair.

“Oh! Well that is different, now isn’t it?” Jiang Yanli’s voice only sounds more amused now, and distantly, Wei Wuxian hears clattering on her side of the phone call, “Do you have chicken broth?”

“Lan Zhan has some vegetable broth from Xichen-ge.” There’d been uncertainty on Lan Zhan’s face the first time he’d told Wei Wuxian that Lan Xichen had taken up cooking, but he was getting better at it.

“That will work just fine, A-Xian.”

Slowly, Jiang Yanli walks her younger brother through the process of making a simple soup, her voice gentle and encouraging, even as she reminds Wei Wuxian not to let the onions and garlic scorch in the pan, because it will make the soup bitter.

“My XianXian is growing up.” Jiang Yanli sounds as if she’s speaking to herself, but it makes Wei Wuxian pause, mushrooms in his hands hovering above the stock pot he’d had to climb half way into Lan Zhan’s cabinets for.

“XianXian is three, he can’t even make soup by himself, he needs his Shijie to hold his hand.” Only when he can laugh at himself does Wei Wuxian finally drop the mushrooms into the soup. Carrots and potatoes roll to the top while the stock boils.

He expects Jiang Yanli to play along with him just like she always does, he waits for her to insist that he’s only a year old, but instead she pauses, though not unkindly. “A-Xian,” Jiang Yanli sounds more serious than Wei Wuxian has heard her in a very long time, “you’re making soup for Lan Wangji because you care for him, right? You’re going to want to add some rosemary now, there’s no need to cut it, just make sure you pull out the sprig after the soup has simmered.”

Wei Wuxian dutifully adds the rosemary, the smell of it spreading through his chest and widening like warmth, “Of course I care for him! He’s my… He’s my Lan Zhan.” They hadn’t named whatever it was that they’re doing, but it’s true enough, isn’t it? Lan Zhan is Wei Wuxian’s Lan Zhan. “Do I need to add anything else?”

“You can add some tofu if you like. When you found out he was sick, did you have to think about it, or did you just go right into taking care of him?”

Reluctantly, Wei Wuxian steps away from the stove long enough to look inside Lan Zhan’s fridge for the tofu, jars and bottles clinking in both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli’s ears while Wei Wuxian pulls the tofu out of a stack with one hand. The soup is still on the stove, unscorched and free of ruin when Wei Wuxian comes back to it.

“I just did it, I guess, I wanted to.” He hadn’t been able to find Lan Zhan’s thermometer and Lan Zhan couldn’t stay awake long enough to tell him where it was, so in the end, Wei Wuxian had kissed Lan Zhan’s forehead and found him to be burning with fever. He’d taken off his leather jacket and set to work trying to take care of Lan Zhan after that.

“You’ll need to cut the tofu, but don’t make it too small.” There’s the light, metallic tapping of Jiang Yanli’s tasting spoon against her stockpot, still spotless, but far more used than Lan Zhan’s. Wei Wuxian nods again and picks up the knife he’d pulled out of Lan Zhan’s kitchen drawers, his sister had told him to find one that felt right in his hand. Wei Wuxian cannot see Jiang Yanli, but he knows that she’s thinking hard about something, her nose wrinkling slightly and her mouth pulling into that small, thoughtful frown.

“A-Xian, do you know that I’m proud of you?” The chunks of tofu land in the pot with wet plops, but Jiang Yanli doesn’t give her brother the chance to ask her what she’s proud of, “I know you don’t like cooking, and you say that you don’t know how to care for someone who’s sick, but you’re trying very hard for Lan Wangji. You could have called Lan Xichen, and he would have come running over to take care of him, but you’ve done it without a second thought. You are growing up, and you’re growing up well.”

“Shijie,” Wei Wuxian starts, but he can’t finish, something big is blocking his throat and making his eyes sting, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“You’ll need to let the soup simmer for a while before you can serve it, keep it stirred, and in the meantime, you should do the dishes and clean up any messes you made while you were cooking.” Jiang Yanli’s own voice sounds wobbly and emotional, now, but it doesn’t mask the pride shining like the sun through storm clouds. “You should serve it to Lan Wangji with some crackers, or maybe toast, it’ll settle his stomach a little.”

Finally, Wei Wuxian can speak, a smile spreading slowly across his face, “Should I call you and ask you how to make toast?”

Jiang Yanli laughs at the joke and sets the lid onto her own pot, “Xianxian could blacken the toast completely, and I think Lan Wangji might still eat it, but only because you made it for him.”

They only talk for a while longer before they both hang up and Wei Wuxian starts to clean up his messes, chasing after thin, wispy onion skins with the broom and wiping down spills that have long since hardened while he was too busy to clean them. He looks in on Lan Zhan, still sleeping, and digs through the cabinets again to find the tea Lan Zhan only drinks on special occasions.

There’s nothing left for Wei Wuxian to do after the tea is brewed and steeped, so he sets about gathering up a tray, taking care to slice the toast into crustless triangles, just the way he’d seen Jiang Yanli do for him and Jiang Cheng when they were younger. With his hands full, Wei Wuxian is grateful that he’d left Lan Zhan’s door open just a crack, though he still kicks it closed as gently as he can.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian calls, setting the tray down on the empty side of the bed, his side of the bed, to lean over Lan Zhan and shake him gently, “it’s time to wake up, Lan Zhan.” He knows he shouldn’t, but he still fixes a kiss to Lan Zhan’s temple, and then his cheek. Lan Zhan wakes up slowly, his eyes still heavy and his skin somehow paler, even as he stares up at Wei Wuxian.

“Wei Ying.” The roughness of Lan Zhan’s voice digs itself right into Wei Wuxian’s heart, and for one moment his smile falters.

“I made you something special, Lan Zhan, it’s going to help you feel better.” Wei Wuxian pulls the tray into his own lap, but Lan Zhan looks at it doubtfully, though he still makes the effort to try and smell it.

“Wei Ying made this?” He asks, and Wei Wuxian beams. He hadn’t burned anything or added too much spice, the broth hadn’t even turned red.

“I called Shijie for help, but I did all the work by myself, I even cleaned the kitchen after I was done.” The statement is half meant to brag, and half meant to settle any worries Lan Zhan might have about a mess left behind in the kitchen.The way his eyes widened minutely hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Lan Zhan takes the spoonfuls carefully as Wei Wuxian offers them to him, bleary eyes still glancing up at Wei Wuxian, disbelief mixed with something else that Wei Wuxian can’t name, but it fills him with hope.

“Wei Ying should not have gone to so much trouble, I cannot taste it.” Lan Zhan admits once the bowl is finished, his hand drifting towards Wei Wuxian’s knee. There’s guilt building up on Lan Zhan’s face like storm clouds, dark and heavy, before Wei Wuxian covers Lan Zhan’s hand with his own, thumb swiping back and forth in a quiet attempt at comfort.

“I wanted to do it, Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian says softly, lifting Lan Zhan’s hand up and kissing it quick, “You know you can’t stop me or change my mind when I decide that I want to do something.” Wei Wuxian couldn’t stop Lan Zhan when he decided he truly wanted to do something either, but Wei Wuxian doesn’t bring that up now, not as he sets his other hand onto Lan Zhan’s back to guide him to lay on his shoulder.

Lan Zhan’s arms wrap around Wei Wuxian’s neck easily, the movements comfortable and automatic.

“Wei Ying will get sick like this.” Lan Zhan insists, his voice stubborn and childish, even as he makes no attempt to pull away, if anything, his arms tighten.

“If I do, will Lan Er-gege take care of me?”

“Yes.” Lan Zhan’s answer is automatic and unquestioning. Wei Wuxian buries his face in Lan Zhan’s hair for it, breathing in the scent buried underneath sweat and sick. “Will Wei Ying make more soup later?”

Wei Wuxian doesn’t stop himself from laughing before he gives Lan Zhan another kiss, this time pressed to his jaw. “You don’t know how much soup I made, Lan Zhan, I can warm it up for you as many times as you want.” He’d made too much, really, but Jiang Yanli had said that was normal.

“I want to be able to taste your cooking.” Lan Zhan insists, and Wei Wuxian kisses him again, on his forehead and on both of his cheeks.

“You will, Lan Zhan, you won’t be sick forever.” It was only a cold, or maybe a flu, but Lan Zhan will get better, Wei Wuxian will make sure of that.

Wei Wuxian knows that he should get up and he should wash the dishes that they’d used, but when he tries, Lan Zhan only holds onto him tighter and refuses to look at Wei Wuxian for a long moment. “Will you stay until I fall asleep?”

“I will, Lan Zhan, I will.”

Wei Wuxian would stay as long as Lan Zhan would have him.

He would take care of him as long as he was allowed to.

#cql #mdzs #mdzs fic #wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #jiang yanli #wei ying #lan zhan #wwx #lwj #jyl #the untamed #theuntameddaily

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mardereads19 · 4 years ago

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Elriel Month 🌸🦇

Day 11:

Continuation of Day 3: Spies at Work.

Elain had managed to convince the carriage males that Rhys’s stunt with the wagon had been real. They’d all drunk up her story as if it was good wine and looked at her like she was the price for the night. She hadn’t even been in the carriage ten minutes when the boasting had begun, a competition on who could impress her more. No doubt they thought that the winner would get her to bed. Elain had smiled demurely, but had let her eyes roam their faces and bodies whenever one spoke, as if she herself couldn’t wait to pick one of them.

The juicy information, though, had begun spilling out after more than an hour of carriage ride.

“We come here with confidential business to take care of,” said one of the males. In the dark, it was difficult to make out all their features correctly, but this one for sure had a mustache.

“They’ll try to impress you,” Rhys had said to her just before he had left her on the road for her mission. “That’s exactly what we want. As much as you can, get them talking and they’ll do the rest.”

So far, he’d been right.

“Confidential?” Elain tucked a strand of hair behind an ear and allowed a little of her glamour to fade. The male’s eyes drank her in. All of them greedily looked at her. Elain couldn’t deny it felt uncomfortable, but Azriel was outside. She knew none of them would remain alive if one of them so much as touched her against her will. “That means you’re all important right?”

The male who had conceded to take her with them smirked. “That’s right. We only work for the most powerful male out there.”

Koschei confirmed.

The carriage stopped and the males eagerly exited, all hoping to be the one to help her down. In the end, it was the same male who had helped her up who extended a hand to her now. He was clearly the leader of all of them. The rest looked at him with disdain and envy, all wanting to be him, to have his authority.

Elain took his hand with a smile and limped her way down the carriage. When she looked up, she noticed they were on the bar she had known was down the road, close to the market she had supposedly been on her way to.

“Look at the map,” Azriel had ordered in Rhys’s study earlier today. “These Fae males will expect you to recognize the buildings and locations. You need to at least have an idea of what is there.” He’d pointed to one of the squares on the map. “This is a bar called The Wicked Glen, it’s most likely they’ll take you there. They’ll want you to drink and lose your ground. It’ll be easier to sway you to dance with them or leave with one of them.”

Elain had seen him clench his jaw and she’d known he did not like what she was being put to the task to do. They had been alone, so she’d reached out her hand to brush her thumb along his cheekbone. “Where will you be?”

Azriel had leaned in to her touch and his eyes had met hers. “I’ll be with you —behind you, around you. You won’t be alone.”

“You’ll keep me safe?”

Azriel, the one to usually keep his distance whenever their friends and family were around, had been the one who tilted her face up and leaned down to kiss her. It hadn’t been any kiss either, but a gentle kiss, a soft kiss to let her know how much he cared. He’d leaned his forehead against hers when they’d broken away.

“There will not be a second where I will not be looking out for you. There won’t be a moment where I am not focused on you. No one will hurt you, Elain.” In his hazel eyes, Elain had seen his promise. “No one will hurt you.”

Elain nodded her head against him. She believed him. “I’ll get the information Rhys needs.”

“I know you will. I have no doubt in you.” There’d been worry in his eyes, but his words had rang true. He’d not been worried that she might fail, he’d been worried of what could be done to her. Worried for her.

But his certainty in her? It had been enough to push away her own doubts.

Now, she followed the male from the carriage into The Wicked Glen. She caught a shadow swirling to their left from the corner of her eye. She ignored it, but it gave her comfort. Azriel was here somewhere.

Her heart told her he was on a branch to her right and she knew that if she glanced there now, she’d see him. She had become highly aware of his presence, knowing exactly were he was even when she hadn’t seen him appear.

When she and the male had taken a seat at the bar, she glanced around for the others. The rest had already wondered off to find dancing partners or to some tables where games of cards were being played. One of them was waiting for the restroom and another one of them was at the bar, too, though farther down. They had given up on her, relenting their chances to their leader, though it didn’t seem like they did it willingly.

Elain counted all the exists and windows —three and two respectively— and noticed what was nearer that she could use as a weapon if anything went south.

A shot of tequila was placed before her on the counter. The male from the carriage turned to her. “Drink up, sweet face.”

***

Azriel was on the roof, looking down through the skylight just above the bar. Elain had dragged her shots as much as she could, just now finishing her third. It had been forty-four minutes since they had gotten here and the male had barely shut up once.

A fourth shot was placed on the counter and Elain took it, but did not raise it to her lips yet. Instead, she smiled prettily at the male and played with a strand of her hair. It did not matter, the male looked annoyed. He had barely drank anything since they got here, no doubt waiting for her to get drunk so he could take advantage of her.

Stand down, the shadow nearest to him whispered in Azriel’s ear. He glared its way, but it was right. Azriel had fisted his hands and was close to winnowing inside the bar regardless Rhysand’s instructions to stay—

Look, another shadow told him.

Azriel looked bellow to see the male running a finger over Elain’s arm. Her eyes had begun to look glassy, the alcohol getting to her at last, and her movement to slap his hand away had been sluggish. The male allowed his fingers to tangle inside her hair and pulled her closer. She smiled, but Azriel noticed her fingers twisting in her dress. He knew her tells enough to know that meant she was afraid.

It was enough.

Azriel winnowed to the entrance of The Wicked Glen and silently made his way to the bar. Everyone who took notice of him stopped what they were doing to gawk and frown. His ears might have been round, like a human’s, but he had wings. And armor. He was still a Fae in the human side of the Continent. He knew some people here were Fae in hiding, but the rest assumed they were all human.

“How would you like to dance?” The male was asking Elain as Azriel approached, his hand tilting Elain’s face. His intent to kiss her neck.

Elain’s eyelids were dropping, but she managed to stop him with her hands over his chest. “I’m not interested in dancing.”

The male’s brow furrowed. “How about having another drink?”

“How about stepping away before I gladly make you cinders?”

The male looked up at Azriel with anger first and then with confusion. Something in his eyes came alive, like he was waking up from a dream. “Who the hell are you, Illyrian?”

“I’m sure you know the answer to that question.” Shadows slithered around their feet, others rising to fix Elain’s hair.

She looked up at Azriel with so much relief that he considered spilling the male’s guts right here on the floor for ever making her afraid in the first place.

The male raised his eyebrows as he regarded Azriel and Elain, how the shadows were fixing her dress as she stood —somehow the skirt had been pushed up— while the rest of the shadows prepared to attack.

“I know who you are, Shadowsinger.” The male smirked. “My boss knows who you are. And now, he knows what makes you weak, too.”

Elain frowned. “What are you talking about?”

The male looked at her. Azriel fisted his hands, but he told himself that it would not be correct to make a bigger scene than the one he had already created.

“History tends to repeat itself, sweet face.” He chuckled before spitting at Azriel’s feet. “Soon you’ll understand.”

Elain intertwined her fingers through Azriel’s and they were winnowing away before anyone could say anything else.

Once they were farther away, but not yet in the glade Rhys had chosen as their place to stay a few nights while they figured out what business had brought Koschei’s males to the Continent, Elain leaned into Azriel. He took her face in his hands and studied her. “How are you?”

Elain laughed. “Drunk.”

Azriel did not share her laugh. He held her at arms length and looked her over.

“I’m not hurt, Azriel. He wasn’t rough with me.”

“He shouldn’t have placed a finger on you in the first place.”

“I could’ve handled him.”

“You were drunk and scared.”

“I was playing a part. Weren’t you the one who taught me how to use give aways to my advantage?”

Azriel opened his mouth to speak but shut it. Then opened it again, “You were relieved when you saw me.”

Elain smiled, “I’m always relieved when you come around.”

They stayed silent for a few seconds. Had Azriel sabotaged their mission, one that had been under control?

“Possibly,” Elain answered, though she was smiling at him. “You know Rhys is going to kill you, right? An Illyrian from the Night court was on Human Territory and he messed with Koschei’s men.”

Azriel ran his hands through his hair.

You’re screwed, a shadow said in his ear.

Azriel glared at it for the second time tonight. You were the ones who told me to look, he answered.

Elain laughed, “You were worried about me. All of you were.”

A shadow floated over a flower and another placed it over her her ear. She laughed again. Azriel felt his heartbeat skip a beat and couldn’t help but wrap his arm around her waist, his other hand cupping her cheek. Suddenly, the shadows found places to stand guard at a good distance, giving them their privacy.

Elain traced Azriel’s left eyebrow with her index finger. “You are hazy to me right now, you know? But your eyes... They’re like a lighthouse calling me home.”

Azriel took a deep inhale, smelling her scent, reassuring himself that the worst was over, that she was back in his arms. “Did I ruin the mission?”

Elain shook her head, “No, you didn’t.” She smiled and, even with her glassy drunk eyes, Azriel felt his knees go weak under him. “I could have gotten more out of him, but I’m sure Rhys will be satisfied with what we got.” She wrapped her arms behind his neck. “Would you like me to tell you?”

“Not now,” he said. “Now I just want to look at you.” Elain’s face softened to tenderness. Her eyes roamed his face. He did the same, noticing the moment Elain let go of the glamour and her whole Fae splendor shined through. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. Inside and out. And he had been so blind tonight with his worry and fear that he had not been able to tell she was putting all his lessons to use. He had believed her fake give aways, her mask of defenseless girl. He should have known better.

“Azriel,” she said, his name like a prayer from her lips. He lowered his head closer to her. She met his eyes, and what he saw in them quieted everything in his mind. “Tell me you love me.”

They had not said it yet. But it was there. It was in every secret glance and touch. In every time they made love and kissed and trained. It was in the way they gravitated towards each other and how they helped each other reach the light. But they had not said it yet.

And right now, with her looking at him like that, with that damn flower tucked over her ear and his own relief at having her in his arms...

Azriel opened his mouth to say that truth that had been in his heart for a long time when she doubled over and heaved all she had drank at the bar.

#elrielmonth #elrielmonth21 #elriel #elain #azriel #elain archeron #elriel endgame #pro elriel #elriel oneshot #elriel fanfic #my writing

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aureolusfirewrites · 4 years ago

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Ugh due to some realization being crammed down my throat by minecraftninjerkid I've decided to write something that doesn't end in Ben being beaten to a pulp or dead it's still angsty as fuck though don't kid yourself.

Waking Nightmares

'No. Not this dream again.' He thought as he realized what was happening.

Unbeknownst to the general public Ben Tennyson, savior of the universe, was someone who generally suffered from night terrors. And those night terrors were something that he could only imagined being concocted from a hellscape.

True some were less horrifying than others but there were seldom ones that didn't cause him to wake up in a cold sweat screaming. And this one, this nightmare, was one of his worst.

He kept getting plagued by it and personally it terrified Ben what his mind might be trying to get him to do.

His dream started out just as viscously as the rest of it. He was standing with nothing but black surrounding him. No horizon, no escape, nothing but black until... The crowds, people so many people, everyone they were surrounding him. They yelled he couldn't actually hear them there was no sound in this awful place. But still he knew they were yelling and fear from it gripped at him.

Then the crowd parted and made way for someone special. For a moment he felt relief as his now grey colored cousin walked towards him. He smiled and reached out for her rushing forward. Trying to hug her something to tell him he'd be okay because Gwen would help... Right?

When he got to her though he stumbled when his body passed through hers like she was a ghost. Ben turned to look at his cousin, a horrid cruel smile plastered over her face. She pointed behind Ben and be turned around. The people who had been shouting were slowly one by one turning to dust. All of them silent as if to tell him it was his fault. Terrified he turned back to Gwen in time to watch her disintegrate before his eyes.

"n- no! Stop please! No no no" he begged in shock.

He fell back hitting the ground trying to scramble away. Loud crackling split the landscape and white cracks spread across the floor under him. Within seconds it had broken and plunged him down.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

He plunged down into freezing cold water. The water was grey turning to black and white air bubbles went up around him. He tried to swim. Get closer to the surface. But he only went down further.

His lungs were screaming in pain it felt like he was burning from the inside out.

His sight was dimming not that it was much different than what he would see if he was focused but a key difference made his eyes snap awake again.

Kevin. The taller teen was covered in metal but wasn't sinking any faster than Ben was as he carefully glided over to him. Ben looked at his friend expectantly.

Kevin reached over and gripped his shoulders. For a second Ben relaxed as he grabbed ahold of Kevin hugging him, but then there was a new sensation. It was slow at first as he felt something else curling around his midsection. He looked up to Kevin. The metal had his body and wrapped in a tight binding around his chest. Surprised he let go of Kevin who just waved before sinking back into the dead black water.

For a second Ben just stared looking at where Kevin had dissapeared to but then he saw something else. Fast as a whip a metal cuff snapped over his left hand and a chain connected to it. Fear jolted through his body as slowly it made him sink faster then another chain snapped around his right hand. He struggled pulling against them but more chains wrapped around him dragging him deeper.

His lungs couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't take it anymore. Ben let out a howled scream but the sound was lost as bubbles burst from his mouth and water filled his lungs.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Suddenly the water released him and he fell hard to the ground. He laid there spluttering and panting for more air as he coughed up more water.

He shuddered and fell to his side. The pain, the shouting from all those people, everything, it was all getting to be to much. It just hurt to bad.

For what felt like a long time he just stayed there curling in on himself shaking. Then he heard footsteps.

Soft thudding drawing closer to him. When he looked up relief washed over his entire body. "Rook!" He stumbled running over to his partner and fell down in front of him. Ben stayed sitting down on the floor not wanting to look up so Rook wouldn't see him breaking. "R- Rook I- I- I can't it hurts, and it's loud, it's so loud I- I can't-" he stuttered. Then Rook knelt down in front of him and lifted a hand under Ben's chin turning his face towards him to make eye contact. Ben searched his eyes for something but all that was there was a dead condescending smug look that radiated 'I'll make it better' but in the worst way.

They stared into each other's eyes for a moment then Rook reached behind his back. There was a soft click when the object was set in his arms.

'So it's the prototool this time huh?' Ben thought outside of his dream.

He looked at the weapon for a moment understanding what this part meant. He slightly shook his head not looking up from his fixed spot on the floor. He felt something brush against him as Rook got closer to him. Then the alien whispered something right into his ear and whatever he said must've broken him because silent tears formed and fell down his face.

Ben gulped and numbly picked up the prototool, in gun form, and turned the barrel to his chest. He made a hiccuping noise clenched his eyes shut and pulled.

He bolted upright. He was panting, gasping, his body trying to force air into itself to make sure it was still alive.

He was still sitting there rigid when he felt something warm wrap around him. He flinched for a moment but soon recognized his boyfriend's arms around his waist and chin resting on top of his head.

"Nightmare again?" Rook asked quietly not releasing Ben from his grip.

"Y- yeah it's nothing Rook j- just go back to sleep sorry I woke you up."

There was a discontent sigh as Rook pulled him closer.

"Ben."

"Yeah?"

This is the fifth time this weak you have woken up in tears. I highly doubt that it is nothing."

Ben flinched at the words. "You heard those to?" He tried to dodge the subject.

"Ben despite what you may believe it is hard to not be woken up when the person sleeping with you suddenly jumps and begins crying, much less the two nights of screaming."

"sorry" he mumbled.

"You will be forgiven when you tell me what is wrong."

Ben let out an exasperated sigh and leaned further back against Rook.

"Please tell me?"

"Alright alright fine. It's one nightmare, it keeps repeating. Everything is loud and it hurts and then everythin- it's to much. I- I feel trapped and then..."

"Then...?" Rook prompted trying to get Ben to continue knowing that at any chance he would shut down the conversation and act as if it had never happened.

"and then you show up and for a second I think it'll be okay but- but then you just tell me that I'm right and there isn't any fixing it, that there's only one way that it'll all go away. Then I get- I get a choice. And- and I always choose the easier way."

Rook had frozen at the description starting to get a good picture of what Ben was describing. It certainly explained why he had been screaming if nothing else. He was staring to really regret having asked but still felt the conversation was necessary. Ben needed him right now, he needed a listener.

He could tell there would be no stopping now until Ben had finished getting all of it of his chest.

"s- sometimes it's just a normal human weapon, sometimes it's something Ive seen some bad guys use when we fight in undertown, tonight it was the prototool, and then sometimes..."

Another shudder ran through his body and Ben shook his head. Heaving out deep breaths while His boyfriend ran long fingers through his messy hair.

"And sometimes it's the omnitrix. It- it zaps me and electrocutes me and it burns. It feels like I'm burning from the inside out and all I can see is green. And it just- It just hurts Rook. I- I don't know maybe something's wrong with me."

"You are right." Rook simply said catching Ben off guard.

"huh? W-What you- you do think there's something wrong with me?"

Rook nodded.

"Ben, there is something wrong with all of us. With everything you have been through I am not surprised at all of your flaws but the good in you is still much greater than all of those "problems" combined."

Ben sniffed and stayed quiet for a long time taking in what his boyfriend told him.

"Hey Rook?"

"Mmhmm" the cat like alien responded sleepily.

"Thank you"

A small chuckle came from his partner and he gave his last words before they fell asleep in each other's embrace.

"Trust me Ben If there is one thing I know about it is that Ben Tennyson never takes the easy way out."

#ben 10 #ben 10 fanfiction #ben tennyson #ben 10 omniverse #rook blonko #brooken #omniboyfriends #ben ten omniverse #benrook #rookben

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spaceskam · 4 years ago

Note

For Title Tuesday, can I request 2 for Malex? Thank you!

!!!! <3

title tuesday instructions

tags/warnings: the lost decade, angst, negative references to Michael’s Behavior in s2 but no explicit details of things that happened, happy ending

2. the bad years [ao3]

Michael tapped his foot on the ground loudly.

“Stop,” Alex snapped, his hand going to his knee and squeezing. The pressure helped. He started wondering if he could ask Alex to lay on him, but that was probably a bad idea considering they were in the middle of an airport.

Instead, he layered his hand on top of Alex’s and squeezed.

“I don’t have any money or a credit score, but I’ll find a way to take out a loan just to pay you to stay,” Michael told him. However, when Alex looked at him, he had a hurt look in his eye and his eyebrows were drawn together like Michael had just insulted him. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to go. But I’m sorry.”

“It’s not like I want to leave,” Alex said, “I have to. You know I have to.”

“Yeah,” Michael breathed, squeezing his hand and sighing softly, “When are you coming back?”

“I don’t know yet, probably around a year.”

“That’s such bullshit.”

“Yeah.”

Michael stayed there, squeezing his hand until his got cramps. Alex never complained. They waited until Alex had to go to his flight because it was about to board. They stood and Alex hugged him tight, but didn’t give him a kiss. Not here, not in public. And then he was gone.

Michael sat in the airport for another hour, trying to remember how his legs worked.

“Are you mad at me?”

“Michael,” Alex said softly, reaching out to touch his cheek. Michael stayed on his knees between Alex’s spread legs, hands gripping his ankles as his mind flooded with thoughts he didn’t want. Such bad timing too. He was always, always, always hit at the worst times.

“I know, like, objectively you’re not mad at me, but also…”

“Hey,” Alex said, leaning forward until all Michael could see was his face. It was a nice view. “Let’s promise that if we’re ever mad at each other or if there’s anything wrong, we’ll say it. That way there’s no question, how’s that sound?”

“So you do get mad at me sometimes?” Michael clarified. Alex huffed a laugh and bumped his nose against Michael’s softly.

“Everyone gets mad at everyone if they spend enough time together. And I want to spend so much time with you that the bad times pale in comparison, okay?” Alex said. Michael stared at him, trying to breath and stay calm to the best of his ability. It was hard.

“We’re still in the bad times. You’re still going to be shipped off to fuck knows where and I’m still here,” Michael said. Alex slid off the bed and right into Michael’s lap on the floor. He grabbed Michael’s head in his hands and stared at him.

The airstream was too small for this but Michael didn’t want to leave.

“I’m here right now. Three more years and I’ll be here for good.”

Michael swallowed his complaints and nodded, putting his head in the crook of Alex’s neck.

“Damn. It’s dusty.”

“Here’s a broom.”

“Oh, so you brought me here to be your maid, I see,” Michael scoffed, accepting the broom anyway, “If I had a head’s up, maybe I would’ve dressed the part.”

“Shut up and sweep,” Alex said, trying his best to smile and failing. Michael accepted it for the joke it was anyway and started sweeping. “God, I can’t believe he left the cabin to me. I wasn’t even his kid.”

“I’m sure he left Kyle somethin’ good. Or maybe not. That’d be funny,” Michael said. Alex rolled his eyes and slowly walked around the couch. Michael didn’t argue when he wrapped his arms around him from behind and effectively made it impossible to sweep. He layered his hand over Alex’s. “He loved you, Alex. That’s what mattered.”

“Yeah, but… A whole cabin?”

“You really find it that hard to believe?” Michael asked. Alex didn’t answer which was enough of an answer in itself. “Now you have somewhere to go that isn’t my airstream.”

“What if I want to just go to your airstream?”

“I’m not gonna kick you out.”

“Good.”

After a little persuasion, Alex took a much needed nap and Michael got to cleaning.

“Okay, don’t freak out.”

“Don’t freak out?! You’re calling me and telling me that Alex‒ That he‒”

“He is alive and breathing and that’s all that matters,” Greg said methodically. Michael recognized the tone of voice. The one that Alex did when it was the only thing holding him together. Out of respect for the second most decent member of the Manes family tree, Michael didn’t call him out on it.

“And he’s gonna be okay? Like… after.”

“The surgery went well and he should be able to get a prosthetic leg. There’s always a chance that it’ll hurt him too much or that his nerves will be too sensitive for it or whatever, but, for right now, that’s the route we’re going,” Greg explained.

“But, like, mentally, I mean. Is he gonna be okay?” Michael said. His hand was gripping his leg so tight that when he finally moved it, he had little crescents that his fingernails had left. They looked deep enough to bruise.

“He’ll be in therapy, but I don’t know past that. Everyone’s different,” Greg said, “But Alex is strong.”

Michael swallowed and took a deep breath. “Yeah. He is. Fuck, I wish I could be there.”

“It’s okay. I’ll let him know you called and tell him that you love him.”

“I didn’t say that,” Michael argued weakly. He hadn’t even said those words to Alex’s face, how fucked would it be if his brother told him that first?

“Okay, fine, I’ll tell him it seemed like you love him. And I’ll text you the address to the nearest florist so you can buy him flowers,” Greg said.

“You’re such a dick.”

“And I’ll send you how to request them in German.”

“Fuck you,” Michael said, sniffling and trying to rub the indents out of his leg, “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“I know you loved me. At one point, I know you did.”

Michael felt sick, but he stayed still as Alex kept his eyes on his computer. It was intentional and Michael could tell.

“I still love you.”

“But you did stop.”

“No! No, I didn’t.”

“Then why haven’t you apologized to me?” Alex asked, voice monotone in the same way it was when he was keeping it together. He started typing in code effortlessly as if this conversation didn’t phase him. Thankfully, Michael was fully aware that it did phase him or he probably would’ve lost it. “Every time you’ve apologized to me in my life was over things that didn’t require an apology. Now I want one because you hurt me‒intentionally, as far as I can tell‒and you won’t even say sorry.”

“I am sorry. I was just confused and overwhelmed and I thought it would be better if I‒”

“I did buy that at one point, but I’m not so sure anymore,” Alex said, sighing and tilting his head to one shoulder and then the other to stretch his neck, “Because you repeatedly showed interest in me when it was convenient for you and then went right back to your girlfriend. That wasn’t fair. I don’t believe that you didn’t know what you were doing.”

“I’m sorry, Alex. I fucked up and I know sorry doesn’t fix it, but I want to be with you and I want to make up for it,” Michael said, trying his best to copy him and keep his composure.

He was never as good at it as Alex was.

“Prove it to me then. Show me.”

And that was a challenge Michael was ready to take on.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Wow, you need to expand your vocabulary.”

“You need to get your cold foot out of my pants,” Michael groaned, trying to wiggle away and failing. Alex just snickered to himself like it was the funniest thing.

“My foot is cold and you’re so warm,” Alex said.

“Yeah, but down my pants?” Michael asked.

“Your thighs are, like, the warmest part of you. Trust me, I’ve spent a lot of time there,” Alex laughed, scooting towards him. His hand snaked around and pressed against Michael’s abdomen which just made him hiss again.

“Why are you so cold everywhere?!”

“Because it’s cold outside and you’re a blanket hog,” Alex answered easily, his mouth pressing to the back of his neck. That, at least, was warm. “Warm me up.”

Michael laid there for a few seconds, trying to wake up enough to do just that. He focused on the feeling of his lips on his neck and then turned around, yanking him in all the way. Surprised laughter rang out of Alex’s body and through the air and Michael kissed him harder.

This. This was worth everything.

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #title tuesday #lire-casander

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

Text

A Call Away (Rosnali) - Athena2

Summary: Sick and stressed about missing the drive n drag tour, Rosé calls Denali and gets a surprise the next day.

A/N: I just really love hurt/comfort, and I just had to write this. Thank you so much to Writ for beta-ing and hyping me up and encouraging me to post this, because I didn't think it was anything special. I hope you enjoy, and please leave feedback if you'd like!

Rosé has been in bed for an hour before he gets restless, and his restless hands quickly start a FaceTime call with Denali. Denali knows he’s been missing shows, but he doesn’t know yet that Rosé is almost certainly out of the rest of the tour, and maybe Rosé wants to add to his misery, because he decides now is as good a time as any to tell him.

“Hi, Rosie.” Denali smiles on screen, and Rosé feels some part of his misery recede just by seeing him.

“Hi, baby.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Rosé says honestly, heart tugging when Denali winces in sympathy. “I don’t know if you know, but I—I’m pretty much out of the tour.” He didn’t want to say it out loud, because that only made it real, but it’s good to have it out in the open, one less thing stressing him out right now.

“I kinda figured,” Denali says quietly. “I know you haven’t been doing well.”

“I don’t even know what’s wrong,” Rosé admits fearfully, blinking back the tears that spring in his eyes. “I’m always so tired and everything just hurts, for weeks now. I’ve been working through it but I went to urgent care this week and they kind of said I can’t anymore.”

Their words had been a lot clearer and firmer than that, and it had landed him out of the tour and back in New York. There’s a small chance that his doctor will let him back on the tour, but Rosé knows she won’t. Management knows too, because they’re already working on replacing him. It hurts, knowing he’s that easily replaceable. He should’ve fought harder to stay, to cling to a tour people would kill for, because who knows if he’ll get this chance again? But deep down he knows the doctors are right, that he really can’t be on stage every night in his condition.

“I’m so sorry, Rosie,” Denali says, the love and sadness in his eyes coming through even on screen. “I know how much you wanted this.”

“Yeah. And now I’m just stuck in bed like a baby for the rest of my life, watching everyone’s videos when I should be there myself.”

He knows he’s being ridiculous and childish, but he can’t help it. He hates it. Hates being powerless and stuck in bed when he should be with the other queens, traveling or getting ready to perform, not struggling to lift his arm and reach for his water bottle. Even if he probably couldn’t get himself out of bed right now, he still hates it. He’s not one for sitting still, always moving around, singing or fixing wigs or working on makeup, and he’s never had to back out of something like this. He’s done shows with colds and even the flu before. He pushed through the finale when he was a total mess. He’s always managed to keep going even when he probably shouldn’t, and now it’s caught up to him, and he can’t push through it anymore.

“Rosie—“

“I’m fine. Just being dramatic.”

Denali still looks at him with love and concern, and Rosé swallows the lump in his throat at Denali loving him even when he’s being ridiculous. “It’s okay if you’re not fine, you know. This is a lot, and I know it sucks. But I also know you’re probably burning yourself out. You need to rest.”

You need to rest. It’s all Rosé has heard, from the other queens, from the physical trainer, from everyone in the urgent care he visited this week. But he doesn’t want to rest. He wants to perform. He wants to be on stage, making people scream night after night, functioning on the bare minimum of terrible airplane sleep in between shows. That’s what everyone else is doing, so why can’t he do it anymore? Why does he feel weak, like an asshole for dropping out of the tour when he’s just a little under the weather? Why is he trapped in bed with a body so achy it’s like a five-ton elephant has parked itself on top of him?

“You’re right,” Rosé says reluctantly. Maybe if he stays in bed all weekend like he’s supposed to, it’ll fix whatever is wrong, and by Monday the doctor will let him back on the tour. He can hope, anyway.

“I’m gonna let you go, okay?” Denali says softly. “You look pretty tired, you should get some sleep.”

“Okay,” Rosé says. His eyes flutter as the exhaustion hits suddenly, like it doesn’t have to hide anymore now that Denali has mentioned it. “Love you,” he says around a yawn.

“Love you too.”

—-

Rosé is in and out for most of the day, and has no idea what day it is when he fully wakes to the door closing. He fumbles for his phone, wincing at the bright screen that tells him it’s Sunday morning. What about the noise, though? Should he get up and see who it is?

“Oh, Rosie.”

Rosé rubs his eyes, finally grasping that he’s not dreaming and Denali really is here, in his doorway. Denali really came here just to see him. Rosé's still trying to figure out how Denali got in when he remembers that he gave him an extra key, just in case. This wasn’t the kind of just in case Rosé had in mind, but maybe it was a good thing, in hindsight.

He tries to sit up, wanting nothing more than to run to Denali and hug him, but Denali’s hands gently ease him back down.

“No, don’t you dare get out of this bed, Rosie. I’m coming to you.”

He slides into the other side of the bed, immediately pulling Rosé close to him, letting him rest his head on his chest. Rosé sighs in content as Denali strokes his back. It’s the most comfortable he’s been all weekend, and he feels some of his stress and nerves settle down, soothed by Denali’s presence.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he says.

“I knew you were having a rough time. I figured I could make it a little better.”

“You did.”

He feels Denali take a breath. “How are you feeling? Honestly.”

“I—I’m scared, Nali,” he admits. It’s the first time he’s let himself show anyone his fear, instead of his annoyance at missing shows or his determination to get back. But he never has to hide around Denali. “I don’t know what’s wrong, why I’ve felt so awful for weeks now, and it might be something bad, and I’m gonna miss the tour and let so many people down…” The tears are spilling over onto Denali’s shirt and Rosé doesn’t try to stop them. He’s been holding everything back for weeks now, his worry as he just felt worse and worse over time, his fear of something being wrong, his guilt of missing the shows and disappointing everyone, and he lets it all go on Denali’s chest.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Rosie,” Denali soothes. “It’s okay. I know you don’t want to let people down, honey. I know. But you have to take care of yourself first. They should understand that, and if they don’t, that’s their problem.”

Rosé sniffles.

“I’m sure you’re gonna be fine. You probably just need to take some time off and really rest, let yourself fully recover from everything.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right.” It’s easier to hear it from Denali, from someone he loves, rather than from a host of doctors and nurses. He knows they mean well, knows he should listen to them, but Denali’s soft voice makes it easier to listen, makes the knowledge less distressing somehow.

“When’s your appointment?” Denali asks.

“Tomorrow morning.” Rosé sighs. “Fuck, I’m so sick of doctors and needles and tests and all the waiting.”

“I’ll come with you,” Denali says.

“What?” Rosé asks in disbelief, hope bursting in him at the thought of waking up tomorrow with Denali still here.

Denali nods. “You said it’s in the morning, and I don’t leave until tomorrow night. I can come with you.”

“Thank you," he whispers, not caring how small he feels for wanting someone to go to the doctor with him.

“Of course. I’ve been to about a million doctors in my day, Rosie. I know how much it can suck. At least I can keep you company.”

Rosé forces his head up in search of a kiss, one Denali leans down to give him. It’s soft and warm and everything Rosé needs, and he whines in protest when Denali pulls away.

“You can have more kisses later, but you need to rest now,” he says.

Rosé pouts, but he settles back down against Denali’s chest, letting the warmth and safety send him off to sleep.

#rpdr fanfiction #s13 #denali foxx #rosé #rosnali #hurt/comfort #fluff #sick fic #athena2 #concrit welcome #submission

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darkmulti · 5 years ago

Text

Death of You

Yandere ex bf!San x female reader

This is a re make of “Satan” bc it was deleted and also happen to be my favourite piece of writing:) also I mixed in a request in here!

⚠️Warnings: humilitaion, filth filth filth filth filth, spitting, spanking, degradtion, bondage, rough sex, oral (male recieving), slapping, theres a lot of kinky shit mixed in here, cum eating, cum play, choking, overstimulation, fear kink, possessive behaviour

——————————————————————————

“San that’s not my fault.”

“Yes it is. It’s entirely your fault. You cheated on me and I caught you. I saw the messages on your phone.”

“San, you don’t even fucking trust me. It’s not what you think! He’s my bestfriend! Our conversation wasn’t even inappropriate in anyway, you’re just mad another boy texted me!”

“Yeah, exactly! What if you two have been fucking behind my back this whole time?”

Your eyes roll back and you mentally slap yourself.

Why were you trying to save something that was already broken?

San’s behaviour was outrageous. What kind of man, what kind of person would think of such things? Being frustrated, you blurted out,

“Do you want to break up? Tell me what you want to do San. Because I truly don’t know anymore.”

San looks at you but doesn’t say a word.

“Fine. I’ll go pack my shit.”

While massaging your forehead, you walk past San and go upstairs. After you finished packing, you head downstairs with your carry on suitcase, and slam the door shut, leaving your now ex boyfriend San, alone in the enormous house.

You will not tolerate his behaviour. You simply can’t stay with a man who doesn’t trust you. With quick thinking you decide to stay the night at a nearby hotel.

With some money saved up in your bank account, you would be able to afford staying in the hotel for a little amount of time. So it was very important for you to find a job, as soon as possible.

After checking into the hotel, you take a cold shower to wash away your tears and make up a plan.

You were strong.

You didn’t need a man.

Before you met San, you were a strong, independent women. Not that you aren’t anymore, you just lost your momentum. Now it was your chance to get it back.

Finally your head fills up with positive thoughts and you get out of the shower with a bright smile plastered across your face. The cold water that hit your body and washed away all your tears, triggers your restart button.

Although you couldn’t exactly forget about him, you were still capable of not ever thinking about him. While cleaning your face with cold water and washing your tired, red, puffy eyes, you start to calm down a bit. Your heartbeat became steady and all the negative thoughts floated away. Another breath of relief leaves your lips.

You change into your pyjamas that San had given you.

Well this wasn’t going to be the easiest process. Almost everything you packed was either a gift from San or bought with his money.

Right there and then you made a promise to yourself that you will return all the money he spent on you. It was only fair, which meant you can move on with your life without feeling guilty.

After planning out your next steps you jump onto the mattress and snuggle in. You take your plushie into your arms and hug it since San isn’t here anymore.

Right when you close your eyes your phone lights up, waking you up. You lazily pick it up and see the miss calls and messages San had left you.

107 messages and 36 missed calls

Y/N

Answer your calls

We can fix this

Y/N we can fix this

I’m sorry please come back.

I love you angel

Please we can’t end like this

We were suppose to get married and have kids

Now who am I supposed to get married to?

Y/N please answer my calls

Sweetheart I need to know if you safe

Please I’m so sorry for what I did and said

Sweetie please

Babygirl I miss you

I love you so much please don’t do this to me!

Why aren’t you answering my calls

Are you with another man?

Y/N ANSWER MY FUCKING CALLS GOD DAMIT!

YOU FUCKING WHORE, ALREADY SLEEPING WITH ANOTHER MAN!

WE HAVEN’T EVEN BROKEN UP PROPERLY!

FUCKING ANSWER MY CALLS

I WILL KILL THE FUCKER IF YOU DON’T ANSWER ME!

STOP LEAVING ME ON READ!

CALL ME

ANSWER ME!

STOP BEING A FUCKING CUNT AND COME BACK TO THE HOUSE!

WHEN I FIND-

You put the phone faced down on the nightstand. That message was enough to make you tremble and cry from fear. You bite down on your lip and wipe away your tears.

Your nails go into your mouth and you lay down, thinking that sleep will help. Even though your heart was about to beat out of your chest, you close your heavy eyelids and you drift into a peaceful sleep.

Approximately 3 hours into your sleep, and knocking on the door woke you.

Shit! You forgot to put on the ‘do not disturb sign’

Crawling out of the warm, cozy bed, your feet touch the cold floor and you walk to the door, opening it.

A very big mistake you made. Standing in the doorway is a very angry San. You shut the door and lock it before running into the bathroom.

Shit shit shit, fuck your phone! You left it on the nightstand!

You open the bathroom door and make a run for it to your phone. But you freeze in your tracks when you hear the ‘beep’ the front door makes when it unlocks. You turn around and San walks in and locks the door.

Paralyzed you were. He walked over to you and without a word you pushed you down onto the floor.

You snap out of the phase and snap at him.

“What the fuck? You can’t treat me like a rag doll San. We’re done!”

“No. I’m not done with you until you tell me why your not answering your phone. You always have it shoved up your ass, so tell me why you chose to ignore me.”

Your eyes look on the floor, not wanting to answer. The idea of breaking up will never get into his sick head. It’ll go in one ear and out the other.

“Not responding? Let’s try this again.”

San gets on his knees and pushes you down onto the floor with a hand now around your neck, in missionary position.

“WHY DID YOU IGNORE MY CALLS AND MESSAGES?”

“BECAUSE SAN, IM FUCKING DONE WITH YOU!”

San raises his hand and slaps you across the face leaving a sting on your cheek.

“Don’t you dare fucking yell at me, you brat. You ungrateful, cock slut brat.”

The man grabs the base of your jaw and spits in your whining mouth. His hands pull your thighs up onto him and he grinds his bulge.

San knew how much control he had over you, and used it to his advantage. Whenever he showed any type of loving or caring affection towards you, you would instantly explode.

“You want me to stop?”

“No, please!”

San smirks at you. Hasn’t been 9 hours and you already want him in your pussy.

“Sit on your pretty little knees and wait for daddy’s order.”

Hurriedly, you get up and sit on your knees. You pull your hair back and wait for your daddy’s next orders.

“Good girl. My cute little puppy. I bet if you had a tail in that ass, it would be wagging side to side because you’re that excited to suck my cock.”

He said teasingly with a sly smile spreading across his face.

Your lips pout and you look at him with widened eyes.

“Take your clothes off darling, I wanna see the lingerie you’re wearing.”

Fortunately or maybe unfortunately, you were wearing his favourite lavender lingerie. The design on the bra and underwear was beautiful and fitted your body perfectly.

“Oh darling. Everytime I see you in that lingerie, it keeps getting better and better. I don’t ever think I’ll ever get tired of this view.”

His sweet words wander out of his lips and into your ears, causing you to smile.

“Come to daddy babygirl.”

Your hands go on the floor and you crawl to him with sparkles in your eyes. San scratches you underneath your chin, and brings your hands up to the hem of his pants.

“You do the honours baby.”

You adjust yourself and pull his pants and underwear down, with his help. San brought your face closer to his lower stomach. You were confused on what he was doing, until his cock sprung up and hit your face, startling you.

Tilting your head up, you admire his long, thick, veiny, red cock, that had pre cum dripping down from the tip. You could’ve come right there just by the sight.

“I know my cock’s superior, but it’s not going to suck itself.”

Your hands quickly take a hold of it and roughly strokes it up and down. San runs his fingers through your hair and tilts your head up so he can look at you while you stroke his cock. Your eyes still in contact with San’s you lick his shaft all the way up to his tip.

San rolls his hip, and thrust into nothing. He wanted to whine so badly, but it would make him look weak, which he didn’t like. Having enough of your teasting he pulls your hair back and slaps you across the face, leaving his hand print behind.

“You don’t tease me darling. Take it in or else I’ll put a ginger up your ass. As I recall, you hated that punishment with all your heart.”

He then got closer to your face.

“Don’t make me do it again.”

Both your holes clench, as you remember the severe pain that punishment had caused you. Not wanting to risk it, you shove his seven inch dick down your throat, while playing with his balls. San holds your hair back for you, and praises you for taking him so well. You pop a smile around his cock and your teeth brush against his dick, making him shiver.

Though, you were happy to satisfy him, there was one thing that wasn’t satisfying you. Your daddy was a hard dom and never moans. It always got to your head that you weren’t satisfying him to the fullest. So with a determined mindset, you get in the right position and dig your nails into his thighs. You shove him down your throat and start to suck the life out him. He jolts up and lets out a loud groan, followed by a soft, but sensitive moan.

You start grinding on the air, after hearing his beautiful, sexy moans.

Oh god, what would you have to have your clit touched right now.

The dom's cock starts twitching in your throat and you bring his tip up into your mouth, sucking it until his cum releases.

“No no no darling. Spit it out.”

You tilt your head at san and he cups his hand in front of your mouth. You spit it up in his hands, and he also spits in it. The males other hand pulls your hair back and rubs the cum all over your face. It drips down your neck into your exposed clevage.

“Baby, rub it all over your breast for daddy.”

You take both of your hands and rub the cum all over your tits.

“Good little whore.”

With your face, neck and chest covered in cum, San takes his belt and wraps it tightly around your neck making a two in one collar and leash. He gets up and pulls you with him to the door.

“Daddy where are we going?”

You ask innocently, but deep inside you were petrified.

“Let’s go on a little walk”

He pulls your leash, yanking you across the floor to his feet.

“Crawl on all fours like the good little puppy you are.”

He pats your head and grabs the door card.

“Walk beside me, in sync with my feet okay slut?”

“Okay daddy”

San walks to the elevator where we met our first victim. He looked at us in shock. You keep your head down low, while San started making small talk with the confused and genuinely concerned male. San then bends down to you and tells you to stick your tongue out. You do as told, but he didn’t do anything to you. Instead he just stood up. Your mind puts two and two together and realizes he’s trying to make you act like a dog.

The elevator dings and you both are now in the front lobby, where there was much more people. San looked out for any kids, but when he saw the coast was clear, he walked out like nothing was wrong.

He pulled you to the couches in the lobby, while people stared at your exposed body. San sits down on the couch and you sit on the floor. He sighs, and picks you off the ground slightly and puts his shoe underneath you.

“Fuck my shoe, you thirsty whore.”

He points his toes up, hitting your clit and making you flinch.

“Grind on it you shameless whore.”

You hips starts moving on the tip and your cheeks turn pink from embarrassment. San from behind spanks your ass a couple of times, and you let out soft moans. Your eyes roam around until it makes eye contact with an old man, who was checking you out. He shamelessly takes his dick out and starts to jerk off, coming closer and closer.

You turn your head the other way and let your mind wanders off. You start to think about how you look like. The cum and spit mixture gliding down your face picking up droplets of sweat, before falling onto your breast. The lavender lingerie that was exposing all your private parts. Your red face, that still had san’s handprint on it. Last but not least, the overly tight belt around your neck, that was causing your breath to slow down.

You bring your attention back to the shoe and went a little harder on your clit, until san reaches to your shoulder to make you stop. He sneaks his arms under your armpits then wraps it around your body, pulling you up onto his lap. You feel his face turned to your right, so you also look and see the old man sitting next to you both.

“Can we share,,,,,, please?”

The old man whispers and reaches towards your arm. San stands up with you in his arms.

“No. I can’t. Mind your own business and keep your dick in your pants.”

San carries you to the elevator, where he kept you in his embrace the entire time.

“I'm so sorry sweetheart, are you okay? I didn’t know I’m sorry, are you scared? We can leave.”

The man’s heart aches at the cringe worthy scenario that took place a two minutes ago. He felt so guilty. You didn’t peep a word and only stuffed your face in his chest.

He carries you back to the room and lays you on the bed once he was inside.

“Shall we continue?”

You ask with a teasing smile, and your hands on the hem of you pantie, bringing it down.

“You still want to-”

You crawl to his guilty figure and place a finger on his lips.

“Of course. You can’t just stop there.”

You pull San onto the bed and jump on top of him. His bulge was hard again, and your cunt aches at it. You bounce on his clothed shaft, while undoing the buttons of his shirt. San places his hands onto your hips and lets you enjoy yourself.

You wrap your hand around his throat and grind harder, until your pussy clenches around nothing and you let out a high pitch whine. This was San’s cue. He switches the position, pulls his pants down, and shoves his giant cock, into your warm, wet pussy. He immediately pounds into your g spot making you squeal and squirm under him. Your tears start rolling down your face from the overstimulation.

“Holy shit, sannie baby daddy, fUCKK RIGHT THERE!”

You became a hot mess. Crying and whining under the male, begging him to go faster.

San hushes you and pulls on the belt choking you. Your eyes water up and your face becomes extremely red, until you tap out. He loosens the belt and throws it to the side, while you try and catch your breath.

“Daddy please hit it again.”

San accepts your challenge and hovers over top of your small figure and fucks the life out of you.

“Whore whore whore whore! You wanted this along. Did you really think that I would let you go that easily? Stupid cum fuck”

His hips move in a high speed into you, and he wraps both of his hands around your neck, putting weight on it. Eventually you scream out and burst into tears, feeling your orgasm punching through. Your pussy twitches around his cock and he gives you one last thrust, making you cry all over again.

It almost like your pussy glitches every time San made you cum. You grab onto the bedsheets and cum for your life. Spitting it out all over his cock, your eyes roll back and hips arch because Sans tip was right below your gspot.

“Sannie sannie sannie.”

San pins your hands down and thrust harshly in again, hitting the spot again. Sobs after sobs leave your mouth, and your body starts shaking at the sensitivity. He goes a little faster, and you start to zone out and only hear his balls slapping your cunt.

San leans down and sucks your lips, giving one last thrust making both of you cum. Both of you were now panting inside each other's mouths. His arms snake around your waist and he gets in bed with you still in his arms.

He pulls you close and makes sure you fall asleep before he does. Whispering sweet and caring words his final words made your heart explode.

The sincere “I love you” followed by his goofy smile.

This man..this man right here, was going to be the death of you.

——————————————————————————

To bad I’m not his girlfriend and he’s already the end of me:(

I hope you enjoyed, I’m going to bed now❣️🥺

xoxo

n❣️

#dark kpop #kpop #ateez #ateez san #san smut #ateez choi san smut #ateez choi san #choi san #san #ateez smut #ateez yandere #ateez san smut #ateez reaction #boyfriend ateez #ateez boyfriend #ateez ex #smut #daddy san #kpop smut

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sope-and-shine · 4 years ago

Text

Do You Have The Receipt For That?

-> Pairing: Jin x Gender Neutral!Reader -> SFW // Domestic!AU // Fluff // Comedy -> Word Count: 1.9k -> Summary: “Get married,” they said. “It’ll be fun,” they said. You thought the honeymoon stage was supposed to last a few months. Yours didn’t even last 48 hours. -> Warning(s): Chaotic Jin, Jin gets drunk, Adam Sandler grade humor and innuendos, a healthy dose of blackmail

a/n: Jin deserves all the love in the world

When Jin asked you to marry him, you honestly thought he was joking at first. He’d said it so casually over a glass of wine that when he actually dropped to his knee in the restaurant and pulled out the ring you were left completely speechless. He’d teased you about him being so handsome that he rendered you speechless, but you knew he was just trying to soothe his own worries over you possibly saying no. But he didn’t have anything to worry about.

All he had to do was get the ring on your finger.

Getting married to the love of your life was the biggest dream come true for you. Walking down the aisle dressed to the 9’s, your fiancé in a tux and looking as handsome as ever, your closest friends and families gathered along both sides to celebrate and enjoy your happiness. There was nothing more that you could have asked for, and you wouldn’t have changed anything about the day at all!

Over the course of your engagement, he did his very best to help you with every decision. He tried to be involved as much as he could to ensure that this wedding was something you both would be able to look back on and remember just how lucky you both are. Every venue search, every cake testing, every question over the smallest flower, he was by your side giving his opinion and reassuring you that whatever decision you made would be good.

Waking up in your honeymoon suite next to the love of your life felt like waking up on your birthday, knowing the day was going to be good. Seeing his recently dyed locks sprawled across his pillow with his cheek lightly smushed against his hand has your heart a flutter. The way his skin glows under the light peeking through the hotel window making you want to look at his forever. He’s always joked about being worldwide handsome, but why stop at just this world when he looks so ethereal?

You reach out - unable to stop yourself - and thread your fingers through his bleached tresses. For the amount of times that he changed his hair color, it was still so silky and smooth. If he’d let you, you’d run your hands through it all day and refuse to ever let him leave. Even as he stirs underneath your touch, you continue to play with the hair on his head.

“Didn’t you get enough of me at the reception?” He teases, a slight hoarseness to his morning voice.

You chuckle and sigh, “I don’t think I could ever get enough of you.”

“Is that because of my looks or my talents?” He asks, winking playfully. You can’t help but roll your eyes at his suggestion.

You lean in and place a kiss on his forehead, “Your cooking is one of my favorite things about you.”

You ruffle his hair and he lets out an annoyed groan, “Now I’ll have to fix that.”

“You had to fix it anyway. It didn’t survive last night.” You remind him, slightly proud of your accomplishment.

A hand reaches out to lay across your bare stomach and pull you closer to him, “I didn’t think you’d survive last night…” He says, his lips next to your ear.

You laugh as you squirm in his grasp, “Stop it! I’ve had enough to last me a week!”

“I thought you said you couldn’t get enough of me!” His other arm slides under your back to cage you into his chest. His fingers dance across your sides until he’s finally in a good position to attack you with well-deserved tickles for your treason, “Have you lied to me? How dare you! I’m your husband!”

“Ah! I’m sorry!” You cry out in a fit of laughter, moving every which way to try and get away from his relentless attack. He doesn’t let up, tickling every part of you that your position allows him too.

He manages to work his way on top, effectively straddling you as he continues his relentless torture, “How could you lie to your husband like this?! We just got married! Oh, who is this person I’ve married?”

“I didn’t mean it! I didn’t mean it!” You laugh, hands flailing as they try to grab at his own. Tear cling to your eyes, “Please, Jin! No more! I can’t! I’m gonna pee!”

“Oh, wow, isn’t that sexy?” He teases. He ends his attack and replaces it with soothing caresses, running his hands up and down your sides as you calm down from the excitement. He watches you from above with a soft, genuine smile as he wonders just how lucky he is himself to have you.

You take notice of his content smile and give him one of your own, “What are you looking at?”

“My amazing best friend.” He leans down and places a soft kiss against your lips, a much different pace from the activity before. You both enjoy the intimacy of just being together, loving the simplicity that comes with just a simple press of your lips together.

When he pulls away, he sighs, “We have a long day today. We should get ready soon.”

“We should.” You nod in agreement. You can’t help the playful smile that reaches your face, “But we should probably try to save some water by showering together. You know, for the environment.”

Jin can’t stop the blush that rises to his cheeks at your suggestion and laughs, “Oh, you’re cheeky!”

---

Your shower took longer than the two of you had planned for. The two of you had gotten carried away throwing suds back and forth and wasted the complimentary soap in one go. If Jin hadn’t tried to steal it out of your hands to try and squeeze it over your head, then he probably wouldn’t have slipped and taken you down with him. You could barely hear him whine over how heavy you were and how bad his back hurt for how young he is over the sound of the shower and your own laughter.

Needless to say, he got his revenge by tickling you again.

Though, with him hurting himself in the morning, the both of you had to change up your plans for the day. What was supposed to be a day out on the town and sightseeing turned into a relaxing spa visit for you both to recover from the morning.

The spa itself was very lovely, with an amazing atmosphere. Very calm and serene, and it felt so refreshing just to walk through the front door. With Jin, you explored all of the spa options they had to offer, walking through various rooms and relaxing hand in hand. Occasionally, Jin would lean over and whisper a joke or something completely random into your ear.

“I have indigestion.” or “What do you call a cow with no legs? Ground beef.”

He followed both up with his contagious laughter, always doing his best to muffle the sound but failing miserably. You had to drag him out of one room before he disturbed the other patrons, and you thought for sure an employee would hunt you down and force you to leave. But that looming concern didn’t stop you from enjoying the time you got to spend with your husband. You both spent all day enjoying the spa, and it wasn’t until dinner time came around that you began to realize that it was a bad idea.

As lovely as the spa was, there was on downside to what they offered.

Alcohol.

Seokjin isn’t a lightweight, but when he’s relaxing he has the tendency to drink just a bit too much. Not in a sense that he became completely reckless or abrasive, but in a chaotic drunk sort of way. He was himself, but more eccentric.

When you returned to the hotel fully relaxed and ready to crash on your bed to cuddle and watch movies, Jin seemed to be a bit more out of it than his usual self. You initially thought this had to do with the alcohol, and you were already planning on getting him some more water and maybe a painkiller or two. But what you had thought was a crash from the alcohol turns out to be your drunk, chaotic husband contemplating and overthinking.

“You love me, right?” He asks, sitting on your hotel room bed while you get him a bottle of water.

You chuckle, “Of course I love you silly!” You walk over from the mini-fridge - water bottle in hand - and sit down next to him on the soft sheets. You cup his cheek with one hand and smile, “I wouldn’t marry you if I didn’t love you, Jin.”

The blonde takes a moment to fully comprehend your reassurance before he nods, “That’s right.”

You try to hand him the water bottle, but he stands before you get the chance. You watch him walk over to the bedside table and pull something out of the drawer, hiding it in the palm of hand. He then walks over to his laptop bag on the table by the window and pulls out a manila folder.

The manila folder with your marriage license in it.

You watch him pull the document out and set the folder back down before he walks past you to the bathroom. Concerned, you follow him, worried about why he would possibly need to bring your marriage license to the bathroom. You’re sent for a loop when you see what he’s doing.

In the sink is your marriage license, and in his hand is a lighter. He holds the light to the edge of the paper and waits for it to set before he closes the lighter and turns to you with the biggest shit eating grin, “Ha! Good luck trying to return me without the receipt!”

You say nothing. You only stand in the doorway, mouth agape looking between your drunk husband and the singular piece of paper you overpaid for to tie yourself to his dumb ass. You honestly want to believe that you can’t believe he just did that, but a part of you really isn’t shocked at all.

He takes your silence as a victory and goes to leave the bathroom, but not without leaving you with a kiss to the cheek and a few words of wisdom: “Close your mouth before you let a fly in.”

When you get over your shock enough to try and salvage what’s left of your burnt marriage license - there isn’t anything to save - you return to the main room. On your bed, Jin is already lying on the bed and passed out with a half empty water bottle on his bedside table. He looks so peaceful lying in bed that you don’t have it in you to wake him up.

So instead, you pull out your phone and record what’s left of the incident. You recount what happened during the day, what happened when you returned home, and you end it by showing yourself tucking in the “man of your dreams” and kissing his head.

“I can’t wait to show this on our 10 year wedding anniversary.” You chuckle, smoothing back the hair that falls over his forehead. You turn to the camera in your hand and smile, “You’re lucky I love you, Kim Seokjin.

#fae fic #sope-and-shine #do you have the receipt for that #kim seokjin #kim seokjin x reader #bts jin x reader #gender neutral fanfic #gender neutral reader #kim seokjin x gender neutral reader #bts jin x gender neutral reader #marriage #honeymoon #fan fiction #fanfiction #bts fanfiction

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lydiaghostcat · 4 years ago

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Linda stayed up all night studying again, but now she has a story for us, complete with pictures even!

Long ago, when the light of Aideen spread over Jorvik and life was brought to the island, a handful of life wardens were created. They were trees that were tasked with guarding all this new life. They were the protectors of the flora and fauna of Jorvik.

When humans discovered Jorvik, they found these immortal trees, and initially respected them. The humans could tell the trees were special and served a higher purpose. The trees came to be known as primeval trees.

The primeval trees looked different in the olden days. They were stronger and much more magnificent, and had magical abilities. Now they are all dormant, sleeping away the exhaustion of having their energy sapped away by the mistreatment of Jorvik’s natural resources.

The trees are still there, though, and they are connected to each other through their roots. There’s an entire root system under the grounds of Jorvik that they can communicate with each other through.

We’ve already come across one of these primeval trees. The one on top of Scarecrow Hill, that held the golden apple we fed to Pi.

At least a half dozen primeval trees are known today, mentioned here and there in various records. One of these trees goes by The Sleeping Widow.

Once upon a time, the Forgotten Fields was a dense forest, full of life. It was protected by two primeval trees and they were a happy couple.

But then came Jarlaheim. When the city was built, the forest suffered. Trees were cut down for building material and firewood, and eventually cleared entirely to make room for houses and farmland.

In the excitement of a quickly growing city, the foresters made the mistake of cutting down one of the two primeval trees. Now all that’s left of them is one stump, and one primeval tree so full of sorrow and loneliness, it’s lost all its power. For a long time you could hear it wailing into the night, but it cried itself to sleep years ago.

Eventually the former forest, now grazing fields, was abandoned, leaving the widow to its lonely sorrow.

Well, that’s a depressing story. I guess this is the tree we have to wake up. Linda sent me to Elizabeth to ask how one wakes a primeval tree.

Elizabeth said we need to wait until nightfall and water the tree with the tears of Aideen, the dew drops that come off of these flowers

and then shine some of the light of aideen on it. I had to recharge that magic aideen rock again

look at me doing magic! fun!!

I had everything I needed, just needed to wait until nightfall, so I went to Starshine to see how he and Lisa were holding out

He said he can still sense Lisa but she’s very faint and he’s losing her. We better hurry

Here it is, the sleeping widow. Now we wait for night

Spooky. It said I could feel the sorrow radiating off of the tree and it made me sleepy. Both Chance and I fell asleep waiting for dark.

I didn’t get any pictures of me giving the tree the tears and light of aideen, but it glowed and creaked and seemed generally confused by being woken up, but happy to feel the light again.

It certainly looks more lively now.

I asked the tree if it can help us to save Lisa. It said it felt Lisa in its roots and she had promised to help it if it would help her out of pandoria. It said it will keep its promise and try to help, but it’s still weak, and it doesn’t know if it’ll work.

It’s a cool lightshow, anyway

The tree went back to sleep and I started running to see if Lisa was saved but...

Chance stopped and couldn’t move. And then he screamed and the game told me he has been injured. I do NOT like that

And then this guy shows up

Hi Sabine come closer i just wanna talk

you did WHAT to my horse?! you’re lucky im physically incapable of moving towards you or hurting you at all in this game. i’ll shatter your whole stupid red-hooded face!

She gave her stupid villain speech about how we’re gonna lose or whatever blah blah blah villain stuff shut up and fix my horse

But then

Lisa made a dramatic entrance, interrupting Sabine by telling her she’s wrong and the Soul Riders will always be there to save the day. And then the two of them exchanged some banter for a bit about if dark core will succeed in bringing garnok back or not before Sabine vanished in a puff of smoke. yeah you better run

can we PLEASE address that Chance has a broken leg now?? that’s like a death sentence for a horse!

i mean he looks fine to me lol sso you couldn’t make a hurt leg animation? not even just reusing the hoofpicking animation so at least he’s not standing on his apparently shattered leg? come on now

Oh okay, so he’s fine then. Cool that the star circle has healing powers, that means I have them too, right? When do I get to do some healing?

And now he’s good as new :)

Lisa said we should tell the druids about all this and also she wants to catch up on everything she missed, but she’s been trapped in pandoria for a while and first she wants a shower and a good night’s rest. That is most valid reason for a dayblocker I’ve seen yet. Go ahead and get some sleep, Lisa

#sso #chance and charlie #story quests #quests

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datleggy · 5 years ago

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Prompt Fill Part 1/2

I can’t find the exact prompt (im a messy bih) but the gist of it was: Buck is sick and accidentally calls Bobby “dad” or Athena “mom”---I decided to do both.

It’s July now and it’s never been quite so scorching hot as it is the day Buck’s AC decides to break down. He tries to fix it, spends maybe two hours trying to get it to work again before realizing he’s got a higher chance of catching heat stroke than of getting the damn thing to turn on again.

He takes a nice cold shower and within minutes of stepping out of his tub he’s dry from the humidity in his loft. It sucks.

Buck goes to three different stores in the area looking for a new AC unit, only to find out each time they’re all out of stock--- “We can have the model you like shipped to your home or in store for pick up by Monday.” one of the employees tells him, not unkindly.

It’s the best he’s gonna’ get under the circumstances, but that’s also another three days without an air conditioner he’s going to have to suffer through. In the meanwhile he buys a couple of fans, one for his bedroom upstairs and one for the kitchen downstairs.

They don’t do much, except blow the hot air around, unfortunately.

He walks into work the next morning feeling like roadkill--and probably looking like it, too, because the Captain is ushering him to sit down almost immediately upon seeing the state of him. “You getting sick on me?” Bobby tilts Buck’s head up so he can get a better look. His normally bright eyes are glassy and there’s a faint blush of red across his cheeks.

Buck shakes his head, “No, I’m good, just tired.” he admits. “My AC finally kicked it yesterday---new one’s coming in a couple of days---but til then I gotta deal with the heat. Kept tossing and turning all night.” he sighs.

Bobby looks at him in wide eyed disbelief. “Buck, LA’s going through a heat wave right now, tonight we’re supposed to hit triple digits, there’s no way you’re staying in that apartment. We’ll drop by your place at the end of our shift, pack you some clothes and toiletries and you can stay with us until your new AC gets delivered. Sound good?”

It does sound good. Buck knows from experience that during the summers especially Athena cranks up the AC so that their home feels more like a winter wonderland than anything else. But.... “Well, I don’t wanna’ intrude.” He hedges. “I can always ask Maddie---”

“Maddie’s is a one bedroom and the last time you slept over there on her couch you complained about back pain for about a week, Buck. You know Athena and I don’t mind having you over. Plus, it’s a little lonely without the kids around. It’ll be nice, we can invite Michael over for dinner tonight, make a whole thing of it.” Harry is away at space camp for the next two weeks and May is doing a summer course for college credits until the end of the month.

Buck hesitates for only a few more seconds before ultimately agreeing to a weekend sleepover at the Grant-Nash household.

-----------------

It’s late by the time they get off work.

Bobby’s looking forward to dinner with everyone later in the night. They drop by Buck’s loft to pick up a duffel bag and the pit stop only reaffirms Bobby’s decision to have the younger man stay over. The loft is brutally hot---stepping inside almost feels like being cooked in an oven.

Buck is exhausted when they reach home.

He wants to tell Bobby he’s too tired for dinner and a movie tonight; all he wants to do right this minute is take an ice cold bath and go straight to bed, but he can tell the Captain’s excited to sit down with everyone and Buck’s never been one to purposely ruin a good time for others.

“Suck it up.” he tells himself.

Dinner is amazing, as per usual. Buck forces himself to make conversation, forces a grin, eats as much as his stomach can stand at the moment, and is relieved when it’s time to just sit and watch the film Michael brought over.

“It’s a classic, Bobby, I can’t believe you haven’t seen any of the Lethal Weapon movies.”

Athena laughs and teases her husband. “Hey, maybe you and Michael can dress up as Murtaugh and Riggs for halloween this year.”

Bobby looks at the spry and often times reckless character on the screen and shakes his head. “Maybe if I were twenty years younger. Buck, I think you would be the better costume partner in this case.”

Michael turns to Buck, only to realize the kid has conked out for the night. “Well, would ya’ look at that. The old people outlasted the young.” he chuckles.

Athena arches her brow at her ex husband. “And who, pray tell, are you calling ‘old’?”

Bobby laughs, albeit quietly, so as not to wake his sleeping charge. “Makes sense, now that I think about it. Buck didn’t get much sleep last night, given the heat. And today’s shift wasn’t exactly a slow one.”

They’re only half way through the movie but decide to call it an early night, for Buck’s sake.

Athena walks Michael out to his car while Bobby goes to wake Buck so that he can change clothes and sleep on an actual bed. “Up and at em, kid, time for bed.” Bobby jostles him gently.

Buck whines softly but does stir, blinking sluggishly up at Bobby.

“Come on bud, can’t sleep on the couch, you’ll regret it in the morning, trust me.”

Buck is still half asleep when he says, “Don’t wanna’.” burying himself deeper into the cushions underneath him, stubbornly.

Bobby can’t help but smile at the sight. It’s familiar in a way that used to sting a lot more, but now brings a feeling of warmth, too. “I know, you’re comfortable, but I promise you’ll be a lot more comfortable on a bed, c’mon.” He pulls Buck up by the arms, and though Buck groans and whines, he does let himself be lead to the guestroom.

Buck took a quick shower before dinner, to wash away the grime of the day, which is one less thing he has to do before bed. Bobby can tell the kid’s beyond exhausted, so he lets him sit on the edge of the bed while he digs through Buck’s duffel bag for a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. “Alright, here we are, change into these and you can--” Bobby sighs.

Of course Buck is curled up atop the sheets, already fast asleep, by the time he turns around.

“Buck,” Bobby leans over the bed and shakes him, but it’s no use. The fire Captain scoffs fondly and goes about untying Buck’s shoes and carefully taking them off his feet. The kid’s body isn’t even fully on top of the mattress, for goodness sake. One of his legs is still dangling off the side and his head doesn’t reach any of the pillows.

Bobby tries one last time to shake him awake, to make him readjust himself to a better sleeping position, but it’s for naught; Buck is knocked out. Bobby takes it upon himself to move Buck, dragging him up so that at least his entire body is on the bed now.

All the jostling to get him situated right finally does make Buck stir, and big glassy doe eyes blink up at Bobby. “Wha’ happened to the movie?” he mumbles incoherently.

Bobby shushes him. “Bedtime. Close your eyes. I’ll make those chocolate chip pancakes you like for breakfast tomorrow, yeah?”

Buck nods groggily, eyelids too heavy to stay open, even if he wanted them to. “’kay.”

Bobby squeezes his shoulder, just briefly. “Goodnight Buck.”

“G’night dad.” and just like that, Buck is asleep, face tucked into a pillow, his body curled into itself in a way that makes him look impossibly small.

Bobby swallows. Hard.

#911 fox #911 fic #bobby nash #evan buck buckley #athena grant #michael grant #prompt #fill #part 1/2

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limeyartspinningtales · 4 years ago

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TBB: The Light Is Gone

Episode 1, Part 1

Summary: Following a narrow escape from Kamino, the Bad Batch go in search of a lost pilot on a hazardous planet. But are they truly alone?

Word Count: 3.5k words

[EP1, P2] [EP2, P1] [EP2, P2]

------

There was silence in the darkness over Kamino. Within the cold vacuum, the Havoc Marauder rocketed out from the planet’s surface, no sound from the ship’s thrusters as it careened up into the open freedom. While tailed by defending ships, these were pulled away back towards the planet’s surface, or otherwise clipped down by another pair of ships that fell into the Marauder’s wake. One by one, each of the three vanished into hyperspace, and were gone. The emptiness remained.

Tech’s focus was everywhere. The ship’s controls, the navigation hub, checking the Marauder’s vitals for any sign of damage in the dogfight they’d escaped. His hands practically blurred as he clicked across the ship’s deck and ensured everything was right. Echo and Hunter sat over by the communication’s centre, Echo dialling in the frequencies of the two that had aided them. He could still feel sweat trickling down the back of his neck, heart throbbing in his chest from remaining adrenaline after that narrow escape. But his expression remained neutral, if his brow scrunched up in ensuring their communications were secure.

“Come in Fennec, were you able to get out?” Hunter spoke. After a moment of crackling speakers, the bounty hunter’s voice came through.

“Of course. Your other friend is a good hand to have in a dogfight, I barely got scratched,” she replied. “Now unfortunately I can’t be too long on niceties, I will need my payment.”

“We’ll meet at the rendezvous point on Ord Mantell in four cycles and hand over the credits there, clone’s honor.” While the easiest way would be for Fennec to get the payment via Cid’s, Hunter had no wish to implicate her directly with the Bad Batch on the off-chance that Fennec was hired once again to go searching for any members of the squad. He could hear a grumble of distaste over the comms, as Fennec clearly didn’t like his decision.

“Alright. But if you ghost me, then I will come after you again,” she replied, almost with a hint of a joking tone over the comms. Echo pulled a grimace off his face, turning back to readjust the frequency for the next ship.

“How’re we doing, soldiers?” Rex called through. “Did you all get out alright?”

“All intact, for the most part,” Hunter replied. “We got our man out, without the chip.”

“Good, that’s very good.” Rex’s relief was clearly audible, despite the static.

“And how’s our other friend?”

“I can assure you, she’s taken on worse missions in our lifetime. We’re all just glad we’re out in one piece, and so are you all.”

“Thanks, general. We owe you one.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll call it in soon enough. Rex out.” The comms went dark and quiet, as Echo sat back from the hub. Looking over his shoulder, he glanced over Omega and Crosshairs. The former was sat guard over the latter, keeping a watchful eye on his condition the same way she’d done so with Wrecker. Going back to Kamino had been a troubling experience for all of them, going back to a place that had been home and now felt like a hollowed shell. For Omega, it’d been worse. Hunter had ached over going back on his promise to her, but his insistence that he wouldn’t let her be taken away from their group (their family) had given her the courage to join them in the task. It’d been a necessity after all. Too long had they left Crosshair in the Empire’s hands, watching as their brother was pushed through near destruction like any other disposable clone. Because that had been all they were, in the end, throughout the war. No matter how much each clone lived and lived, they’d been the fodder. But the Batch would be damned to watch their own fall apart.

It’d been a clutch decision, a little too late in Echo’s mind, but once the goal was kickstarted then it was just a matter of rolling through and smashing down Kamino’s door to rescue Crosshairs. Too much had happened in the space of a few hours - Rex’s surprise appearance despite initially being reluctant to help, Nala Se assisting in removing Crosshair’s chip - and Echo wouldn’t be surprised if the whole team needed those four days before the rendezvous simply to unwind from the sheer chaos of it. Then again, every other day and hour was dunked in chaos. It was how their merry squad worked best.

Getting up from the communications hub, Hunter stepped the narrow space over to the bunk-bed. His brother had been so far away, it felt like a miracle that he was here on their ship again. The various scars littered Crosshair’s face, the burn mark from Bracca being the most prominent of all even now that half of it was covered by the bacta patch from removing his chip. Despite being unconscious, Crosshair still seemed to retain a scrunch to his face either in pain or disdain. The former was understandable. The latter brought an ache to Hunter’s chest. He sat down next to Omega, glancing over Crosshair and her in turn.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked.

“...Better, now we’re away,” she replied, voice hushed. “I think Nala Se wanted to talk to me, back there.”

“Did you want to talk to her?” Hunter kept his tone gentle, not wanting to pry too much.

“No. I didn’t,” Omega muttered, her own tone dropping to bitterness as she tucked herself up smaller. She didn’t look back at Hunter. He didn’t press any further. Instead he rested a hand on her shoulder, giving a small squeeze before getting back to his feet. Wrecker took his place instead, leaning against the bunk as well.

“How long d’you think it’ll take for him to get better?” he asked, much less to Omega and more an open question to the ship.

“Unsure. It took most of us approximately five minutes or less to wake up after our surgeries,” Tech explained, taking a pause from the flight controls. “You were suffering much more from the chip’s effects at the time, and you awoke some few hours after your surgery. Crosshair has been under the chip’s influence for….a very long time.” Regret fell into the normally neutral and methodical words Tech provided.

“We don’t know,” Hunter summarised. “We just have to wait.”

For a moment, the ship lapsed into a hush, background to the humming engines and electricity buzzing through the lights. Then the communication’s hub began to ping.

“Huh. It’s Cid,” Echo murmured, dialing into the frequency and letting words flash up on the screen. Not a direct call, but a general message with coordinates attached. As he read through the message, Hunter joining him to read as well, his face wrinkled up in disapproval.

“What’s she want now?” Wrecker grumbled.

“Got a job for us,” Hunter explained, and was unable to get much further before Wrecker exploded, “Already?! We only just got Crosshair back!”

“Wrecker’s right. Crosshair’s still unconscious, and we don’t know when he’ll wake up,” Omega chimed in, hopping down next to Wrecker. “Shouldn’t we be waiting for him to recover instead of already picking up jobs?”

“Yes, already. We just pulled some very thick strings that Cid provided us. It’ll make sense that she’ll want any debts repaid as soon as possible, and I’d quite like to stay in her good books while one of our team is worse for wear,” Hunter explained, although his weariness broadcasted he was unhappy with the situation as well. “And maybe it’ll provide us an opportunity to stay out of the Imperial radar.”

“What’s the job in question?” Now Tech was getting curious as well, letting the ship continue on autopilot while heading over to the communication desk to read the message as well.

“Pick-up job. Cid got an emergency broadcast from some pilot that crash-landed on a planet near where we are. We go rescue the pilot, maybe some of their cargo, easy job,” Hunter said.

“It’s never an easy job though, really?” Echo snarked.

“We can always hope.”

The Marauder pulled out of hyperspace a few clicks away from the planet, allowing just enough time for Omega to get a good view of their destination before they began to descend. Certainly a smaller planet, from above it seemed to be nothing but thin clouds and murky clouds and dark dots mixed into the clouds. Even from high up though, those dots seemed sharp and dangerous. Much of the planet itself was blotted out into shadow by the moon that hung surprisingly close to it.

“Making a descent to Cavas now,” Tech announced. “Everybody best strap in securely, it’ll be bumpy.” Without much further persuasion, the rest of the Batch got to their seats, pulling down the heavy restraints to keep them secure. Wrecker made sure that Crosshair wouldn’t roll out of the bunk during descent, fixing in strap restraints before finding his own seat. As the ship began to shudder with the shift from space to atmosphere, Omega held on tight to the restraints while trying to peer out the viewport. At first it was only clouds, a jarring shift from vast black to milky yellow and grey. Then something huge and narrow flashed by the viewport at a terrifying speed. Another object appeared and disappeared just as fast, and Omega could feel the ship tilting in short sharp movements as Tech wove around the obstacles. With the clouds beginning to thin out more, all could now see that the Marauder was dancing around massive rock spires, needles that punched out from the ground far below and into the sky. It was no small shock that some of the structures reached so high up and yet so thin, rapier points attempting to drive into the small gunship.

“I’ve heard the descent was risky here but I never quite realised-” Tech cut off his sentence as he turned the ship once more, narrowly avoiding another spire. “- how risky.”

“Ship!” Wrecker pointed out beyond the viewpoint and the clouds, as a looming shape far larger than the spires rapidly materialised from the fog. With a grunt of effort, Tech sent the Marauder down in a harsh descent, knocking most passengers backward and sending the ship’s gonk droid sliding past Omega, Hunter and Echo with panicked “Gonk!” warblings. For a moment they could glimpse the cruiser fly overhead, pinned in the air by a series of spires that had torn the underbelly apart and left it rusting. But then everything was a blur of motion as Tech steered the ship in through the spires, beginning to move closer towards the planet’s surface. With the clearing of clouds, more spires loomed into view, including ones that had been hidden just below the cloud layer itself. And with the spires were more ship ruins, crashed and ripped open and crumpled across the rocks below.

“We’re close to the emergency broadcast source,” Hunter called over to Tech. “Bring us around somewhere safe to land!”

“Understood. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

TGRANG

The ship shuddered to the left as something briefly impacted the right wing. Tech sucked in a sigh and muttered, “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“What happened?” Echo managed to hide most of his nervousness, but not all.

“Wing got clipped by something, possibly one of the rock formations. I’ll check it when we get on the ground,” Tech reassured him, calling back over his shoulder. Mumbling reassurances of his own to himself, Echo pressed his head against the back of his seat as best as he could and closed his eyes.

The rest of the flight down to the ground was thankfully less harrowing, beyond the sharp turns Tech needed to make to avoid the spires. As Hunter stepped down from the ship to the ground, the phrase “needle in a haystack” turned over in his head with a sourness. Not only were they searching for a ship in a ship graveyard, but the rest of the haystack included large rock needles. Taking a few steps away, he began to scour over the area they were in - a decently sized empty space for the Marauder to have squeezed into, surrounded with metal debris and rock walls. Down here on the ground there were various canyons from which the spires ended up sprouting from. The wall heights ranged from waist-level to several Wreckers tall, and with the degree of wreckage around then it wasn’t simple to judge whether there was stone or not beneath a pile of junk.

“This place looks a lot like Bracca,” Omega said as she joined Hunter. “Do you think the Scrapper’s Guild will be out here too?”

“Unlikely,” Tech spoke up, taking a moment to detour from checking the ship’s damage and instead pulling out his holo-pad. “Cavas doesn’t go under the overall list of junkyard planets that the Scrapper Guild and other such tend to use for taking apart wreckages. Specifically it is a ship graveyard, due to the number of lost ships that end up on it.”

“So there must be survivors from the crashes. Any towns, cities?” Hunter questioned.

“Negative. While Cavas has a breathable atmosphere, no-one has settled properly here due to its barren status. And even if attempts were made to make it more habitable, such as terra-forming processes, these would be ultimately impossible due to the proximity of its moon.” Tech pointed up to the sky’s horizon. While difficult to make out at first, eventually the curve of the moon itself could be spotted against the dull pink-grey of the sky.

“How so?” Omega prodded further.

“Daytime here lasts only for two hours. After which, nighttime lasts for sixteen. Nothing would be able to grow.” With that, Tech put away his holo-pad, all intel having been provided. “Unfortunately there’s nothing much else to provide. Reconnaissance missions have been led to investigate this place but as you can tell, it was too dangerous and costly when most missions resulted in nothing but losses.”

“So even if there are previous survivors, they’ve probably already been rescued or died out here from the cold,” Hunter suggested with a grim understanding. “We’d best be on our way to find our pilot then. The emergency broadcast should lead us right to them. Tech, Echo, you two stay with Crosshair and the ship. We don’t want something to happen to Crosshair after we just got him back.”

“Got that right, sir,” Echo replied, glancing back at the ship with a small relieved smile. Despite the stress and fatigue, there was that one undeniable sensation shared silently between the clones - relief. They had their brother back after all.

“Wrecker, Omega, come along with me,” Hunter went on, beckoning for Wrecker to follow after him as Omega was already keenly walking by his side. “It’s daytime so I reckon we’ve got time enough to scout for an hour before needing to get back before nightfall. Let’s go find our lost pilot before something out here decides they’re its next meal.”

The further the three of them walked away from the Marauder and the sound of Tech working on the ship, the more the noise seemed to slowly seep away until the sound of their footsteps walked alongside them. With the shape of the canyons and the piles of debris, every sound they made was deadened instead of echoing, making the muffling sensation even heavier. The routes that the canyons provided were a maze of themselves, sometimes resulting in needing to scramble over a smaller pile of debris to avoid having to circle around it and potentially lose the path to the broadcast’s source. Often Omega found herself glancing up and around, at the spires twisting into the air and the numerous shipwrecks around. On Bracca these wrecks had maybe some sort of sense of order. Here the ships were left haphazard to ruin. There was far more range here as well - cruisers, gunships, freighters, shuttles - with massive ships left hanging in the air as if the moment of their impact had been caught in time before it could hit the ground. States of disrepair varied as well, with some ships only just rusting over, while the shards of metal and detritus scattered everywhere suggested the ship they’d belonged to was long, long gone.

How long had people been crashing on this planet? Why hadn’t Cid given them any warning, if this was a place that people rarely seemed to come back from?

“I really don’t like this place,” Omega whispered. “I can’t hear anything.”

“Like, you’re deafened by something?” Hunter questioned, looking confused.

“No, there’s nothing out here. Nothing’s making any sounds, except for us. Listen.” They all slowed to a stop and listened.

Silence.

No animal, no bird, nothing made a sound. Even the breeze that Hunter could feel against his cheek didn’t carry noise.

“I really don’t like this,” Wrecker murmured, slowly lifting his blaster defensively. “What if there’s some kind of ambush set up here?”

“Well, we’ll have to deal with that if we find it,” Hunter replied quietly. It was hard to lift his voice louder in the heavy silence. “Just keep your eyes peeled, stay aware for any signs of movement, or any-”

CLANG-cl-clangclang

Spinning on his heel, Wrecker turned the blaster in the direction of the noise and began to fire, teeth gritted. It took Omega pulling on his arm for him to pause and lower his weapon, watching as several streams of debris began to pour slowly down the pile he’d been shooting at.

“....If anyone’s here they had to have heard that,” Omega said. “Even if the sound here isn’t working right.”

“If we’re lucky, then maybe our pilot will come and search for us,” Hunter commented.

“And if we’re not lucky?” Wrecker asked.

“Then it won’t be our pilot searching.” Trooping on along the path, Omega took a moment to glance back at the spot that Wrecker had fired at. Although she suspected it’d simply been a piece of the ship finally falling away, she wondered if something (or someone) had been there. Especially now with the itching feeling of being watched crawling up her neck.

“....well, kriff.” Tech’s dead-pan tone after a long silence jerked Echo out of his thoughts.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, getting up from his perch on the Marauder’s steps.

“The good news is that the rock didn’t penetrate too deep into the ship itself. Otherwise it may have punctured our fuel storage and we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Tech replied, his hand on top of a sheet of metal that had been peeled off the ship about as neatly as peeling a jogan fruit. Echo held back a wince.

“And what’s the bad news?”

“I can put it back together without any issue. But to get it into place, I need Wrecker to push it into place,” Tech said. His gaze flicked over Echo, down to his hand, then to the cybernetic attachment on his other arm. “Or I could just try to do it myself.”

“Oh come on, I’m not some brittle shiny,” Echo scoffed. “I could lift more than you on any day.”

Tech let out a sigh, pulling off his goggles and rubbing down his face. The clinical neutral expression slipped and tiredness blinked through for a moment.

“I know, I know, I - ugh, this place is getting to me,” he admitted. “I keep feeling like something’s breathing down my neck, or creeping up just behind me. It’s making me feel on edge.”

“I know what you mean.” Echo did, his sympathy was more than genuine. He allowed his words to rest for a moment before getting to his feet. “I’ll check on Cross. Let me know if you feel like we can try pushing that into place.”

“Much appreciated,” Tech replied, turning back to the exposed ship’s interior. Turning about, Echo stepped into the Marauder, heading over to Crosshair’s bunk. Despite everything, despite the slightly catastrophic descent into Cavas and despite Tech and Echo’s bickering outside, Crosshair seemed utterly asleep.

“....Considering how long we made you wait for us to come and get you, I feel like it really is only fair that you make us wait for you to wake up,” Echo commented softly, even though the joke fell flat as it left his lips. Failing a brief moment of joviality, he allowed the more somber mood into him, leaning against the wall.

“I’m sorry you had to wait. I’m sorry for all of this, for all they’ve done to you. I hope you’ll be able to forgive us,” he murmured. “....Maybe you’ll just be able to sleep through this mess. You deserve the rest after all.” Tilting his head forward slightly, he began to head back to the exit and to Tech.

“....And what mess would we be in this time?”

#here we go folks the horror episode(s) as promised #the bad batch #tbb #star wars bad batch #sw bad batch #sw tbb

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omigiry · 5 years ago

Text

"𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩"

songfic: Make up - Sam Kim ft. Crush

ry’s notes: Hellooo! A little Iwaizumi drabble. A bit angsty.

POV: Third person

The call ended with a heavy tension between them. Things were messed up, and it just got worse when Hajime dismissed her so easily. They were both frustrated with each other and the stress from university was piling up but he was the one with the shorter fuse. He realized what he did wrong when she ended the call. What can be solved through a talk, ends up being a bigger problem.

Hajime rubbed his face with both of his hands as he let out a sigh of frustration. He was in the wrong and he knows it, he raised his voice at her. In his defense, she has no reason to be jealous over his partner for a project, but as he recalls everything that happened so far he realizes that he cancelled on her countless times for an abrupt meeting for the project. Those abrupt meetings weren’t even for the project, he took notice as his partner asked more about him rather than the project itself. He was disappointed that those meetings were useless and weren't needed.

When he cut those meetings short and called (name) to go out, she was the one busy now.

“I’m sorry, you cancelled on me. So I decided to go with my friends instead. It’ll be rude if I bail on them again.”

Other times (name) would be busy studying. He lost those chances and he was a fool for always falling for those ‘meetings’. He would always give benefit of the doubt towards his project partner, because the project is equivalent to half of their exam grades.

He knows that (name) is really mad this time. She never hangs up on him even if there’s an uprising argument. They would talk it out and solve it within the day.

He tried calling her again but she didn’t answer it.

Hajime: I’m sorry.

Hajime: Please pick up.

He sends her dozens of texts but he wasn’t even left on read. He called a couple more times before he decided to go to her apartment.

He pressed the doorbell, though he knows the code to her apartment he doesn’t want to disturb her privacy. He waited for a few seconds, but no one was answering.

Is she home? Where is she? He tried again only receiving the same results.

Now he was panicking at not knowing where she was. He didn’t know where to start looking. Running his fingers through his hair and calming himself down, he decided to call her closest friend.

At the second ring she answered the call.

“Hey, is (name) with you?” He asked the moment she picked up. There was silence before she could answer, as if she was hesitating.

“Look, I honestly don’t want to tell you this. She told me not to tell you. But she’s here with me. You really messed up big time today.”

Iwaizumi sighed. “I know. Can I come over there?” He pleaded. He wants to fix everything now.

“She really doesn’t want to see you right now.” She said apologetically. “She came here fuming with anger, then bursting into tears, after all that she fell asleep. I guess she was really tired. All the school works and you cancelling on her for how many times.”

“Alright.” He unwillingly gave up. “I really deserve this one.” He said goodbye to her and told her to take care of (name).

Going back to his apartment he lay on his bed looking up at the ceiling. During this time they would talk until she fell asleep, now it’s a quiet night for him and the silence was killing him.

Even though his messages will be ignored he still decided to send her another one.

Hajime: Can we make up in the morning?

Hajime: I’ll be better. Please, talk to me.

Hajime: I’m really sorry.

Hajime: I hate to know that you cried yourself to sleep. And I’m such a prick to be the reason behind it.

Hajime: I love you.

He couldn’t fall asleep, even though he was tired. He would wake up every hour checking his phone whether she decided to respond or not. He really felt bad for everything and he just wanted to hug her and tell her how he’s sorry.

The next day he woke up feeling even more tired. He finally slept for a good two hour then woke up with the thought of (name).

He checked his phone and it was 8 in the morning, then he noticed a message.

(Name): Come pick me up.

At that simple message he was up and rushing to ready himself. He didn’t know if he should feel relieved or panic.

Iwaizumi pressed the doorbell of (name)’s close friend. His palms were getting sweaty and his heart beating fast. He doesn’t know whether he is forgiven or not. He thinks of the possible treatment he could receive from you.

Her friend opened the door and called her out that he was here. (Name) said goodbye and hugged her friend, before turning to face him. He noticed that she was wearing the favorite fluffy cardigan that he gifted her, he always admired how big it is on her frame and how she looks so soft wearing it.

She didn’t say a word to him, only looked at him before going on ahead. Iwaizumi followed behind, creating a safe distance between them, but not too wide just enough that she could have her own space. He wants to pull her in a hug so much and hold her hand, but judging from the cold shoulder she was still giving him it wasn’t an option to do so.

They reached her apartment and she got in. Iwaizumi just stood at her door, hesitating whether to come in or not.

“Aren’t you going to come in?” She finally spoke. After that subtle invitation, a heavy rock lifted off of his chest out of the many.

He sat on the other side of the sofa, as she sat there glaring at him.

“Look—“ He wasn’t able to start his sentence when (name) cut him off.

“I hate you.” She firmly said. “I hate how you cancelled so many times for those stupid meetings. I hate how you still attend those meetings even though you know what her motive is already. I understand that it is such an important project for you but you have no right to neglect me for so many times.”

Every word she said was an arrow to his heart. Everything was the truth and he was rendered defenseless.

“And I hate how I missed you so much.”

He looked up at her. Her eyes show determination that she would no longer cry. He knows that she’s a strong girl, crying once was enough. She would always tell him that she wouldn’t cry for the same reason.

“I’m sorry.” Was all he could say, but it was sincere and she knows that.

“You’re forgiven. But if ever you do it again, i’ll make sure you truly regret it.” She said and scooted closer to his side.

“I promise, I won’t.” He pulled her in a tight hug and she returned it.

“Mmhhm. Better keep that promise well.”

“I’ll treat you with some fried chicken.”

“Ice cream too?”

“Ice cream too.” He agreed and gave her a smile. She kissed his nose as a sign that all is forgiven.

“You’re lucky I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi imagine

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just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi · 4 years ago

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Reinforced - Lee

[Boo-yah babey I’m back]

CW; dislocation, sadistic whumper, contortionism, body horror honestly. This is just a little more intense

The boy was trembling, holding his elbows. He was still wearing his costume, hair damp from sweat. The sounds of the other circus acts filled small tent with distant music and cheers. His teeth chattered in the humid air.

“Sir, s-sir please. Can- how, how to do I prove to you that I’ll behave? Please give me a chance to prove myself. Please?”

The Ringmaster smiled and straightened his long coat. So eager to please. Perfect. Of course he would be, he would never accept anything else.

The boy had done his act flawlessly again. It was always fascinating to watch him contort his body into something that seemed… inhuman. There were plenty of supernatural in this show, but Lee wasn’t one of them. He was just another human performer with nowhere else to go. Raised here, born before the Ringmaster had bought the company.

The wind blew a bar of music and a rush of the crowd from the big tent. He didn’t have much time before he needed to introduce the next act, but that was part of the game, now wasn’t it? The limited time only made every movement deliberate and sweet.

Just another rush.

“Now Lee, you know what I say about obedience.”

Lee’s eyes fall closed and he shivers. “That, that it has to be re-reinforced.”

Fat, heavy tears roll down his face and the Ringmaster soaked in the sight of them. He would call them crocodile tears, but he knows they’re not.

The crowd cheers and brings him back. Tick tock, the clock is counting down. He takes a deliberate step towards the boy and he shudders. He curls his hands close against his chest, hunching his shoulders a little to protect them.

He knows the game, too.

“It hurts.”

Its barely more than a whisper, but the man hears it. He hears it and allows the shadow of a smile to glaze over his lips. Lee’s eyes are closed, and besides - he knows anyway.

“I know,” says the Ringmaster calmingly, sickeningly, as he takes another step forward. Stalking. “I know it does, but we can’t have you trying to run away again.”

Lee chokes on a sob. How many nights, how many years had it been since he had tried to run? Regardless, he nods. He knows; and god does he regret it. He’s regretted it for years, and his waking nightmare is that he will regret it for years to come.

How long will it take before the Ringmaster tires of this game?

“Hand.”

The man is standing in front of him know, Lee’s eyes fixed on the man’s shoes. It feels like someone has wrapped a band around his heart and it is squeezing him to death. The terror, the fear never lessens. They never dull.

“Please. Please let me do it,” he whines softly. He can pull the joint out carefully, he can make it hurt so much less. If he’s lucky, maybe not even at all.

There’s no answer. Lee knows there’s a time limit, he knows that the Ringmaster will get rushed and then there will be no comfort, no pauses. Trembling, he offers up his hand.

The Ringmaster grins and takes the hand gently, brushing his fingers down the back. He wraps a hand firmly around Lee’s wrist, and the other around the boy’s thumb. Lee bites his lip, fighting with the fire under his skin that is screaming at him pull your hand away.

The man tugs sharply, and the joint abused from nights and nights of this game gives. Lee gasps harshly, but it’s nothing. Nothing compared to what’s coming. Without prompting he lifts his other hand. The Ringmaster smiles and takes it lovingly.

Lee begged to prove his obedience but doesn’t seem to realize he does every time.

The process is repeated on his other hand, and Lee judders out another gasp. The Ringmaster holds the boy’s hands for a moment, brushing his thumb back and forth to sooth, before squeezing harshly. Lee keens, knees going slack.

The Ringmaster never lets him fall.

“Good job, you’re doing so good tonight, Lee.” The boy sobs, leaning his head to rest in the center of the man’s chest. It hurts, it hurts and it’ll only get worse, but there’s a single moment where at least he can be distracted by the kind words.

A length of rope is brought up and used to tie his hands tightly. Once, one time, he dislocated his thumbs to try and escape the cuffs. One time, but one time was enough for it to be added to the game. A precaution as the Ringmaster calls it.

Lee calls it torture.

His hands throbs and the rope cuts into his wrists as the man pulls him close to his chest. The man lays a hand across the boy’s dark hair and wraps the other around his waist. He breathes deeply, contentedly, while Lee cries into his woolen coat and ignores the pressure on his poor hands.

The moment is brief, and when the man pulls him away there’s a new look of fire in his eyes. He seizes high on the boy’s arm, just below the shoulder joint, and raises the grip of his arm around Lee’s chest. A violent yank, and Lee cries out through his sobs.

His legs give out completely, and the Ringmaster brings them both down to their knees. He brushes strand of fine hair out of the boy’s eyes, admiring the tears on his face and listening to the pitiful, half spoken pleas.

“Just one more,” he murmurs, feeling the shiver his words produce. “Just one more and you’ll be done. You’ve done well, Lee. Can you do that for me?” Lee’s response is only more cries, but the Ringmaster accepts it just the same.

He only shudders when the hands come again. Another wrench, another sickening pop for deep inside his body, and screams. He can feel his voice grate in his throat. The pain is overwhelming him, oppressing him into a weeping ball on his knees. The hands disappear, and he’s drifting. Drifting and alone and in agony.

A hand cards in his hair and lifts, forcing him to stand. Once he’s on his feet, the hand doesn’t leave. It stays. It stays, and it pulls him backwards. Backwards and down, bending farther and farther until his spine lays atop itself. Only then does the hand slip away.

Lee takes a controlled breath as he takes in the world upside down. The worst part is over, now. It hurts, it hurts more than anything else, but the sharp, terrifying part is over. This stretch is normal for him, dark hair brushing the ground next to his ankles. His shoulders burn and pull and buzz like insects, but he can breathe through the consistent pain. The sharp, anticipated pain is what he fears.

He can find focus in moments like this, and the pain can fade as he focuses on balance and breath.

The Ringmaster’s hand grabs his hair once again, now his bangs, and pulls him through his legs. The world rights itself, and he adjusts, whimpering as he brings his dislocated shoulders around and his hands in front. Tears that were trapped by gravity glide down his face in abundance, but he can’t let himself feel them right now.

The Ringmaster lays a hand on his taunt stomach. “Down.”

Lee folds his knees and lowers his chest down to the floor. Once he’s on the rug, he tucks his legs under his chin and nuzzles his aching hands with his nose. He closes his eyes and listens to his own breathing, counting. He can’t break down, now, he can’t cry. He needs to focus on breathing, on counting. Feeling small is a comfort to him, always has been. When he’s open, he’s vulnerable. But when he’s folded and compact, he’s safe. Small and safe and unseen. He pulls himself a little tighter together to stifle a sob that would wrack him.

The Ringmaster stands above the twisted form, observing every jerk and spasm. Time is almost up, but Lee is focused now, hiding deeper inside his head.

No matter. It’s just as enjoyable to unfold him slowly after the performance.

He taps the crate with his shoe, reminding Lee of where it is. Lee shudders in his compact form, but inches back towards it. Once inside, the Ringmaster comes around front and pets his cheek gently. Yes, to comfort him, but also to watch the mesmerizing shudder. It’s a sight to behold; a body so contorted shudder.

He closes the lid and straightens his coat. Time has come for him to introduce his next act, and the smile on his face is as genuine as it will ever be. It’s been fed by weeping and fear, thoughts still wandering to little Lee waiting for his return.

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imjustthemechanic · 4 years ago

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The Price of a Soul

Part 1/? - Agent Russel Part 2/? - The Letter Part 3/? - Miss Lake Part 4/? - The Stewardess Part 5/? - An Assassination Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - Face to Face Part 8/? - Deals, Details, and Other Devils Part 9/? - Baggage Part 10/? - Private Funding

Howard, of course, is all for this plan.

Howard Stark’s hours were unpredictable at best. Sometimes he was awake for days on end working on a pet project, running on coffee, cigarettes, and whiskey until he simply ran out of steam and collapsed. Sometimes he’d been overseas for too long and had not yet reset his internal clock, so that he was up all night and slept all day. Sometimes he napped in strange places like a lazy cat. Peggy had no idea what to expect when she rang his bell in the morning.

The first thing she heard was the barking, followed by a yelp from Mr. Jarvis and a cry of, “Anna! Would you please contain this beast?” Some scuffling and more barking followed, and then the door opened. Whatever had just happened, it didn’t stop Mr. Jarvis from looking as tidy and composed as ever when he opened the door.

“Agent Carter, good morning,” he said cheerfully. “What can we do for you today?”

Behind him, Anna Jarvis was kneeling on the floor in her dressing gown, cooing Hungarian endearments to the animal Peggy assumed was called a ‘Bernese mountain dog’ not because it came from the Swiss Alps but because it was simply a mountain of dog. Its tongue was lolling out and its eyes closed in bliss.

“Good morning, Mr. Jarvis,” said Peggy. “I was wondering if Howard were out of bed yet.”

“He’s in the backyard, nursing a hangover by the swimming pool,” said Mr. Jarvis. “I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you.”

Peggy stepped inside and nodded to Anna and the dog. “Good morning, Anna. Zoltan.”

“Lovely to see you, Peggy,” Anna said, fondling the dog’s red and black ears. “Sorry I’m not dressed. I just have to get this fellow his breakfast.”

“It’s quite all right,” Peggy assured her. “I don’t know how long I’m likely to be here, anyway.”

Behind the house, Howard was sprawled across a chaise under the canopy, wearing his brocade bathrobe, a pair of sunglasses, and probably nothing else. Jarvis picked up a discarded newspaper and laid it discreetly over his employer’s lap before touching his shoulder to wake him. “Mr. Stark?”

“Huh?” Howard twitched.

“Agent Carter is here.”

“Oh.” Howard’s head tilted back again. “I guess there’s no chance of telling her to come back later?”

“I don’t do later, Howard,” said Peggy. Jarvis pulled up a chair for her, and she sat down across from Howard. “I need a favour… in fact, Daniel and I both need a favour.”

“Is this the part where you remind me again that you kept my ass out of jail?” he asked.

“It is.”

“All right.” Howard made an effort to sit up and look slightly more presentable – at least as much as a man could when there was only yesterday’s Examiner to preserve his modesty. “What’s going on?”

Peggy had spent a good deal of time in her bath the previous evening thinking over exactly how she was going to present this idea. “I’m sure you remember the time you had me steal back a vial of Steve Roger’s blood for you under the pretense that it was a superweapon.”

“Technically, it could be, in the wrong hands,” said Howard. “But I definitely remember where you hit me. Did you find it?” he asked, peering over his sunglasses with bloodshot eyes.

Howard did not know that Peggy had thrown the vial in the East River, and she was not about to tell him. “No. But before I tell you what I did find, I need you to assure me of your honourable intentions. If some piece of Captain Rogers or his property were to turn up, what would you do about it?”

“Depends on what it is,” said Howard, “but if it were his body I’d throw him the hero’s funeral he deserves, and if it’s the shield I’d build him a monument out of it.”

Peggy leaned closer. “You swear?” she asked.

“Cross my heart,” he said. “What have you found?”

“A set of coordinates. Seventy-four, forty-seven, thirty-five. Ninety-five, twenty-five, three.”

She could almost see the gears in Howard’s head turning as he placed them. “That’s… that’s further north than we ever looked… way up in the sea ice.” He started to get up, then grabbed at his newspaper. Peggy politely turned her head while he fixed his robe. “I’ve got a map here somewhere…”

“I know,” she said, getting up to follow him inside. “I already looked.”

In the library, the atlas Peggy had used was still sitting out on a table. Howard quickly found the same page, and the same point. “Cornwallis Island.”

“Daniel and I aren’t sure the tip is trustworthy,” Peggy explained, “so we need this to be discreet, no taxpayer money. I’m on medical leave for the occasion.”

“Of course. Not a word,” said Howard. “Just you and me and a few of the locals to carry stuff. There might not be anything visible on the surface anymore.”

“No?” Peggy asked. “Our source described the crash in some detail, as if they were there when it happened, and seemed to think there would still be parts of the plane caught on the rocks of the island.”

“Yeah, but sea ice isn’t static,” Howard said. “It moves around, and snow builds up and doesn’t melt. If the wreck’s in the ice it’ll be torn apart, very slowly, and will eventually melt out the bottom and fall onto the sea floor. The ice up there isn’t transparent, either, it’s yards thick and full of cracks and bubbles. We need a way to see what’s under it.”

“And you happen to have just the thing?” Peggy guessed.

Howard nodded eagerly. “I’ve been working on it on and off for a while now… an ice-penetrating sonar. The big problem was keeping the sound of the plane itself from interfering, but the last month or so I’ve actually had your buddy Dr. Wilkes up there troubleshooting on it. He’s a great guy for acoustics. His work on the vibration frequencies of the Zero Matter…”

“Is it ready for testing?” After knowing him for nearly ten years, Peggy was an expert at gently encouraging Howard to stay on topic.

“Yes! That’s why we moved it to my hangar in upstate New York,” Howard said. “Closer to the ice, less shipping hassle than getting it to Alaska. It’s installed on one of my planes there.”

“So we can simply fly it up to Canada and take a look,” said Peggy. That would cut down on their search time enormously, if they didn’t have to trek across the ice for days on end. “Wonderful. But as I said, we can’t have any fanfare. Absolute secrecy is best.”

Howard pouted. “You don’t think I can keep a secret, Peg?” he asked.

“You do tend to get over-excited,” she said. “And we know, by the way, that there are more of those Russian girls in the country, so you’re not even allowed to hint at it over drinks. How soon can you be ready to go?”

“I can be ready to go right now,” Howard replied. “It depends on if Jason’s got the thing ready in New York. I’ll give him a call right away.” He checked his watch. “Yeah, he’ll be up by now.”

“I should hope so,” Peggy said. “Dr. Wilkes tends to be far more regular in his hours than you. But don’t tell him over the phone where we’re going,” she added. “Treat it as just another test flight. You never know who might be listening in.”

“You can count on me, Peg. After all… you did keep my ass out of jail.” Howard grinned at her.

“Thank you, Howard.” She smiled back. “I’ll head home and pack a bag.” That wouldn’t take long. Peggy knew how to travel light.

As she was heading back to the front door, she met Mr. Jarvis coming the other way. “Agent Carter?” he said. “Are you leaving?”

“Yes, I’m afraid I have a lot to do today,” she said. “I can’t stay for tea.”

“I wasn’t about to ask you to, but I’ve just taken a phone call from Chief Sousa,” Mr. Jarvis said. “He was unable to say why, but he would like you to stop by the SSR offices as soon as possible.”

He probably wanted to know how her conversation with Howard had gone, Peggy thought, though it was strange that he’d called rather than waiting for her to contact him. “I’ll do so on my way home. Thank you, Mr. Jarvis. Give my best to Anna, would you?”

“I shall. Will we see you again soon?”

“I certainly hope so,” Peggy said.

She probably could have done more to warn Howard how unlikely they were to find anything up there, Peggy thought as she drove back to the office, but for the moment it was probably best to let him ride the initial wave of enthusiasm. The whole story could wait for their flight back to New York and the subsequent journey to the Northwest Territories. Howard and Jason’s sonar, though… that was exactly what they needed! If this were indeed some sort of trap, there was no way the Soviets would be expecting them to fly over at a height rather than hiking out from the island. If there were something there, they’d be able to get at least an idea of it without so much as setting foot on the ice. Then if it appeared dangerous, they could contact Daniel and ask for further suggestions.

“Afternoon, Rose,” said Peggy cheerfully as she entered the reception area. Rose was sitting at her desk, tiredly watching a trio of midgets in matching sequined costumes perform an acrobatic routine.

Rose did not smile back. “Oh, you got Mr. Auerbach’s message?” she said.

“I did,” Peggy nodded. “He’s upstairs?”

“Yes. So is Mr. Masters.”

Peggy’s spirits, which had been high on her drive over, sank straight through the floor. It wasn’t that there was no reason for him to be here – Peggy could think of half a dozen things he might have decided to stick his unwelcome fingers into – it was that whatever he wanted was always at odds with whatever Peggy was trying to accomplish. Daniel had rung her at Howard’s because he was trying to warn her.

She took a deep breath, stood up straight, and nodded. “I’ll head right up.”

Peggy stepped into Daniel’s office with her head held high and determination in her step. Daniel himself was not there. Vernon Masters, however, was. He was sitting in Daniel’s chair, where Peggy had sat for her interview with Lake as Agent Russel, waiting for her.

“Carter,” he said.

“Mr. Masters,” Peggy replied.

“Care to explain how another Soviet spy got into the country undetected and killed one of our most important political prisoners while you were a dozen feet away?”

He certainly did get straight to the point, didn’t he? “It is my understanding that Miss Lake drilled through the glass of the cell window and shot Dr. Zola using a police revolver with a home-made suppressor,” she replied.

“While you stood right next door and did nothing.”

“Our best information at the time suggested that Miss Lake was here for Underwood and Fenhoff,” said Peggy. “I was acting on that. We had no reason to think Dr. Zola was in any danger.”

“You sure didn’t try to protect him,” said Masters.

“We did our best to keep the entire prison secure,” Peggy said. “Perhaps you ought to question the people in charge of the Sing Sing Correctional Facility, rather than me.”

Masters sat up. “I’m going to be straight with you, Carter,” he said. “We sent an FBI agent to investigate your potential involvement in Underwood’s escape – he was drugged and robbed by a colleague of hers, who then went on to kill Zola right under your nose. You understand why this doesn’t look good for you.”

“I do,” said Peggy, keeping her body language as neutral as possible. Since Masters’ last visit she’d been telling herself not to worry about him because he had nothing on her… but now events were conspiring against her. The situation he described could easily make Peggy look like a traitor to somebody sufficiently paranoid… or at least incompetent. He couldn’t possibly have any real evidence, though, because if he did he’d be having her arrested. His ‘case’, if it could be called that, must be entirely circumstantial.

“I’m going to have a full investigation look into your conduct, Carter,” said Masters. “If you haven’t done anything, you have nothing to fear, but you’re suspended from duty as of now.”

“As it happens, I’m already on medical leave,” she said. “Chief Sousa insisted I take time off to recover from the chemical Miss Lake attacked me with. Apparently Dr. Mroczek in New York worries there might be permanent damage to my lungs.”

“From what you’ve said about these Russian girls you should be grateful she didn’t shoot you,” said Masters. He stood up from Daniel’s chair. “I’ll be checking in.”

“I’m sure you will,” said Peggy, wondering what he would think when she left the country… and how he would fit it into his personal conspiracy theory when she came back.

#fanfic #captain america #agent carter #peggy carter #steve rogers #howard stark #steggy #fix it fic

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westallenfun · 4 years ago

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A Most Unexpected Love, Chapter 3

WestAllen secret santa gift

From: @jade4813

For: @sophisticatedloserchick

Author Notes: For the lovely @sophisticatedloserchick from @jade4813! Merry Christmas, and I hope you like my first fic after a long hiatus!

Title: A Most Unexpected Love

Rating: PG

Synopsis: Iris has loved Eddie Thawne Allen her entire life. When she returns home just before Christmas, it looks like she might finally have a chance to catch his eye…unless an accident puts his older brother, Barry, directly in her path. Story inspired by Sabrina (with some quotes lifted more or less directly from the source material).

Chapters: 3/7

Chapter Three

“You can’t do this.” Barry’s voice over his shoulder caused Eddie to freeze and prompted a groan of frustration.

“Don’t start—”

“You’re engaged! Did you forget that? What is Patty going to think if she finds out that you’re spending your evening trying to seduce another woman in mom’s solarium?”

“It’s a dance!” he huffed irritably. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a little? It’s just a dance!”

Barry wasn’t ready to let it go. “It’s never just a dance with you. Or did you forget I’ve seen you do this a hundred times.”

“Not a hundred—“ he began.

“Eddie,” Barry growled.

“Have you forgotten you’re my brother? You’re not mom, and you’re certainly not dad. I don’t know what makes you think you have any say in my love life—”

“Okay, I’m not mom or dad, but she’s also not like all the other girls you’ve flirted with. She’s Iris. Joe’s daughter. Remember? You can’t just flirt with her and then send her away with a pair of diamond earrings when you get bored with her and want to move on.”

Eddie’s expression darkened. “How dare you talk about Iris like that!”

“I’m not talking about her. I’m talking about you. Iris is amazing. She always has been. You are fickle.”

His eyes growing wide, Eddie tried to turn the tables on him. “Wait, I know what’s going on here! You have a crush on her, don’t you?”

Barry sighed in exasperation. Rolling his eyes, he said firmly, “No. I don’t have a crush on her. This isn’t about that.”

“I was going to say. She deserves someone…”

“What, better?” he prompted when his brother’s voice trailed off.

Eddie shook his head. “No. You’re a great guy – that isn’t your problem. But she deserves someone more exciting.”

“Maybe,” he conceded. “But she also deserves someone who isn’t engaged, don’t you think?”

Sliding two champagne flutes into the back pockets of his pants, Eddie grabbed a bottle of Dom Perignon from a passing waiter and pointed out, “That wasn’t my choice, you know. You were the one who pushed me into it. Was it really worth selling your own brother out for the sake of a merger?”

“Selling you out?” he spluttered in indignation. “You’re acting like I twisted your arm! Do I need to remind you that all I did was introduce the two of you and encourage you to ask her out on a date. One date.” Eddie seemed eager to wave away this statement of fact, so he pressed, “You were the one who continued to see her. You were the one who decided to propose.”

“Actually, she asked me,” Eddie interjected.

“And you said yes,” Barry shot back. “So don’t blame me for seeing good business sense in a decision you made.”

He grunted, pushing past Barry to head towards the solarium. “Either way, having Iris back has made me realize that I may have made a terrible mistake. I mean, Patty’s great, but Iris…” His voice trailed off with a wistful smile. “She’s amazing. She’s exciting and funny and beautiful…”

“And you didn’t even realize that we basically grew up with her,” Barry pointed out in a dry tone.

“Look, I know you’re skeptical, but you don’t understand!” Eddie protested, striding purposefully toward the solarium. “There’s just…there’s something about her. She’s amazing.”

“So you’ve said,” he pointed out, rolling his eyes all the while, only to be ignored.

“I’m think…no, I know I’m falling in love with her!”

“Oh my god,” Barry muttered, running a hand down his face as he followed in Eddie’s wake. Grabbing his brother by the arm, he all but forcefully dragged him into the first open door they came across, bringing them both into the library. “Can you just…can we be reasonable about this? You can’t be falling in love with her. You don’t even know her!”

“You’re the one who pointed out we basically grew up together,” Eddie pointed out as he paced back and forth across the library carpet.

Barry fixed him with a sardonic look. “A fact which clearly made an impression, since you needed me to tell you about it. I mean, can you even tell me what you find so amazing about her?” When a shadow passed over his brother’s face and the younger man opened his mouth to argue, he clarified, “Again, this is about you. Not her. I mean, I know why I think she’s amazing, but you didn’t even remember her until five minutes ago!”

Eddie threw him an obstinate look, his jaw set in a mulish line. “I can’t explain it. She’s just different,” he grumbled angrily.

Realizing he was approaching this entirely the wrong way, Barry took a deep breath held up his hands in a placating gesture until the two of them had calmed down a little. When he tried again, he even tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Okay, so Iris is different. She makes you feel things you’ve never felt before. You can’t picture a future without her. But.”

Eddie crossed his arms across his chest, but he didn’t interject, allowing Barry to continue. “Remember who we’re talking about. This is Iris. She grew up watching you. She’s seen every trick in your playbook. She knows it’ll start with dancing in the solarium. Then you’ll sweep her off her feet to a romantic weekend in a cottage on Martha’s Vineyard. You’ll get tickets to some sold-out show on Broadway and romance her with a carriage ride in the park. Dinner and drinks and a kiss under the stars on some rooftop overlooking the city. And then – and then – you’ll get bored with her as you always do, and it’ll be diamond earrings hand-delivered to her doorstep. Maybe an accompanying bracelet if you’re feeling particularly sentimental. And that’ll be it. That’s goodbye. You may think she deserves better than me, and you’re probably right. But don’t you think she also deserves better than that?”

“That isn’t fair! Okay, maybe that’s what I’ve done before, but this is different! She’s different! I lo-aaargh!” Eddie’s protestations broke off with a shriek of pain as he threw himself dramatically onto the sofa nearby, forgetting about the champagne flutes in his back pockets. They shattered with an audible crunch, the broken glass tearing through the fine fabric of his slacks and embedding itself into his skin.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Barry asked in concern, rushing to his brother’s side.

“The glasses! I forgot the glasses!” his brother yelped, trying to rise to his feet but stopping when his movement only caused the glass to ground deeper into his flesh.

He held up a hand in a halting gesture, backing toward the door. “It’s going to be okay. Just…stay there. Dr. Harrison is at the party. I’ll find him and send him in.”

Eddie’s voice was desperate when he cried, “Wait! Iris…she’s waiting for me. I can’t just leave her like this! It’ll break her heart!”

Barry sighed. “I’ll take care of it. Just…don’t move.”

It took a few minutes to locate the doctor and discretely direct him to the library, following behind in case anything else was needed. Unsurprisingly, Eddie’s injuries would require several stitches, so he was dispatched to the emergency room with quiet efficiency, leaving Barry to break the news to Iris.

He was going to head to the solarium straight away when, on second thought, he decided to swing by the caterer to get a bottle of champagne and two glasses. She would be heartbroken enough to see him and not his brother. No reason not to try to soften the blow.

As he approached the solarium, he saw Iris through the thick glass windows. Her head was thrown back as she gazed up at the twinkling lights, a smile bright enough to rival the heavens themselves upon her face. She looked so happy, he almost hated to walk through the door and ruin it. But the alternative was for her to be stood up, returning home confused and brokenhearted Eddie failed to ever show.

So, mustering a smile, he let himself into the solarium and felt his heart twist in his chest when her beaming smile fell at the sight of him. “Sorry. Just me,” he murmured apologetically as he walked toward her. “Eddie…he isn’t going to be able to make it.”

“Oh. I see,” she murmured, looking crestfallen.

Unable to bear her disappointment, he rushed to explain, “He wanted to be here. It’s just…on the way here, he had a little accident. He – ah – he sat on a champagne flute.”

Her eyes went wide with alarm. “On a champagne flute?” she repeated, as though she wasn’t entirely certain whether to believe him. “How does that even happen?”

“Ah…it’s apparently an occupational hazard?” he offered, not really sure himself why his brother had thought carrying glass flutes in his back pocket was a good idea.

Clearly still trying to process the nature of the injury, she offered tentatively, “Okay, well…where is he? Should I go see him?”

“He’s in the ER, but the doctor assured me he’ll be fine. He’s just getting a few stitches,” Barry reassured her, focusing on uncorking the champagne and pouring two glasses. “But he did want me to send his apologies. You can see him tomorrow, if you want.”

Iris’s mouth twisted and her gaze fell as she accepted the flute he held out to her. “Well…thank you for telling me. I suppose it’s getting late, anyway. I should probably turn in…”

“I’m a poor replacement, I know,” he acknowledged with a wry smile, causing her to gasp.

“Oh, it isn’t that! It’s…” She broke off, scraping her lower lip with her teeth. “Okay, it isn’t that precisely,” she acknowledged, her voice slightly apologetic. “He’s just so…so…perfect. You know?”

“Yup,” he agreed flatly. “That’s my brother. Mister Perfect.” He threw back the champagne in one gulp and then set his glass aside, holding his arms out to her. “Anyway, it sems a shame for you to cut your evening short. How about a dance?” She hesitated, so he said encouragingly, “Come on; we’re here anyway. We might as well.”

Iris’s smile grew sheepish. “Oh, all right,” she capitulated, not entirely with good grace.

It reminded him so much of the time a younger, injured Iris grudgingly agreed to let him carry her home, he almost laughed and pointed out the similarity in response. In the end, he held his tongue, afraid that doing so would cause her to end the evening early. Or, worse, hurt her feelings. Instead, he waited as she took his hand. She stepped into the frame created by his arms as they began to dance to the music filtering through the glass windows.

He didn’t want to remind her of the last time she’d compared him to his brother and found him wanting, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t tease her just a little. Just enough to hopefully make her smile. “Careful, Miss West. You’re in danger of sweeping me straight off my feet,” he joked lightly, noting her answering blush.

“I don’t mean to be rude.”

“I know,” he reassured her in a soft voice. And suddenly, he didn’t want to talk about Eddie anymore. He didn’t want to think about the inevitable future she would face if she continued down this path. He didn’t want to imagine how brokenhearted she would be, after loving his brother for so long. So instead, he spun with her in his arms, tightening his hold on her hand and spinning her away from him, giving her an extra twirl. The music faded outside the windows as the song came to an end, but he pretended not to notice, twirling her again.

Her laughter filled the room and warmed his soul, bouncing off the windows that surrounded them. In her joy, she threw back her head to look at the lights twinkling overhead. Following her gaze, he noted that they shone like stars. He twirled her over and over until she collapsed against him, struggling to breathe through her ragged gasps of laughter.

Sliding one arm around her waist, he pulled her close, smiling when he felt her head fall against his chest. Drawing her hand in, he trapped their hands between their bodies, slowing the dance until they were swaying gently back and forth. As Iris’s mirth subsided, music from the party drifted through the windows once more.

“Maybe it’s much too early in the game. Ah, but I thought I’d ask you just the same. What are you doing New Year’s, New Year’s Eve?” Iris lifted her head off his chest, her eyes meeting his. Their faces were inches apart, and her laughter died in her throat. “Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight, when it’s exactly twelve o'clock that night. Welcoming in the New Year, New Year’s Eve.”

“Bartholomew,” she breathed.

“Barry. Please,” he corrected her.

Nodding slightly, she whispered, “Barry,” and he realized in that moment that they had stopped dancing entirely. Flushing, she cleared her throat and tried more forcefully, “We – maybe we shouldn’t be doing this. I should – I should turn in.”

“But we haven’t finished our dance,” he murmured, beginning to sway once more.

“Maybe I’m crazy to suppose I’d ever be the one you chose. Out of the thousand invitations you received.”

He liked having her in his arms, he realized. More than he’d anticipated. He should be thinking solely of nipping this problem with his brother in the bud. He should be thinking of sparing Iris her future heartache. But he realized now that he hadn’t asked her to dance because he wanted to distract her from thoughts of Eddie or to delay the inevitable. He’d asked her to dance because, simply speaking, he wanted to. He wanted to hold her in his arms, to twirl her around and dance with her under lights that shone like twinkling stars.

“Ah, but in case I stand one little chance, here comes the jackpot question in advance. What are you doing New Year’s, New Year’s Eve? Oh, what are you doing New Year’s, New Year’s Eve?”

“The song’s over,” she pointed out in an undertone.

“I know,” he agreed, though he didn’t let her go, and she didn’t move away.

Their bodies were so close that he could feel the rise and fall of her chest when she sucked in a deep breath. “Eddie’s…I’ve loved him for as long as I can remember. I thought I was over it. Over him. But…”

“But you’re not,” he finished for her, his words a statement and not a question.

“Are you,” she hesitated and swallowed heavily before continuing, “are you here to deal with me?” At his confused look, she disentangled herself from his arms, walking away and keeping her back to him as she explained, “I know how it works. I’ve seen it before. I grew up in this world, remember?” Throwing a look at him over her shoulder, she continued, “On the outskirts of it, at least. Eddie attaches himself to a deeply unsuitable girl – like the daughter of an employee – and she gets offered a generous cash settlement if she only agrees to bow out quietly.”

“You think I’m fooling myself that you could be bought? How much were you thinking I planned to offer? A million? Two?”

Lifting her chin, she said firmly, “I’d never accept it, you know.”

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug, looking around for the bottle to refill the champagne. “I’d never offer it.”

“Even though I’m deeply unsuitable?” she prodded dubiously.

He laughed, offering her a flute once more. “You? Unsuitable? Look at you. You’re incredible.”

Sipping champagne, she swallowed heavily and admitted, “I wanted it to be me, you know? Just once.” Though he didn’t need her to explain, she did anyway. “I know he brings all the girls here, to drink champagne and dance in his arms. I just – I wanted it to be me.”

“I know,” he said in a voice almost too soft to be heard.

With forced lightness, she held out her flute for him to refill once more, saying, “You know, in all the years I’ve lived here, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dance. I’ve certainly never seen you come out here with champagne to ask a girl to dance with you.”

He smiled slightly, acknowledging the point. “That’s because I’ve never done it,” he explained.

“You’ve never had to, you mean,” alluding once again to her suspicion his actions were a ploy.

“Is it so hard to believe I’d want to share a drink and a dance with the most beautiful woman at the party?”

She laughed derisively, the sound echoing off the solarium windows and breaking his heart. “I’m sorry, but yes. That is hard to believe.”

Barry put his champagne flute aside. “Then I guess you don’t really know me at all. Anyway, I shouldn’t take up any more of your time. You can see Eddie tomorrow.”

Whatever she saw in his face or heard in his voice seemed to make her second-guess herself, because her forced broke off as he started to leave, and she reached out to grab his arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

Pulling his mouth into a tight smile, he reassured her, “You didn’t. Good night, Iris.”

“Good night, Barry,” she whispered as he strode through the solarium door and into the cold night air.

#westallen #westallen secret santa #submission

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