#I NEED A WEEK TO DECOMPRESS AND FIGURE OUT WHAT NORMAL LIFE IS AGAIN AFTER MY TRIP | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

burkymakar · 4 years ago

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Tyson Jost Smut: Healthy Scratch

Summary: Sub!Tyson Filth. Blame @hookingminor

Rating: Explicit (Dom/sub scenes, smut with feelings, consensual unprotected sex)

Word Count: 2.6k

Note: engage in safe, sane, consensual play! also, this was written with a female reader because i certainly wasn’t manifesting.

Your heart absolutely broke when you talked to your boyfriend, Tyson Jost, over FaceTime.

More than anything, you wanted to make him feel better.

He’d worked so hard in the offseason and for once the Avalanche weren’t dealing with injury issues. So Tyson was declared a healthy scratch on the last game of the California road trip.

You talked for him for two hours after the game, but he still seemed blue. He put so much pressure on himself. And it seemed like he was cracking under it.

He flew in that next morning and they had the whole day off. And you couldn’t sleep, wracking your mind trying to figure out how to make him feel better. Or at least get out of his own head.

And then you remembered one of the last times you two made love before he went on the road trip.

BDSM.

It was a recent introduction to your sex life but absolutely a welcome one. Tyson took care of you so well, giving you exactly what you needed. After a rough day at work recently, he dommed you so well you fell into subspace for the first time.

You barely remembered it, mostly feeling floaty like you were on a cloud. All you could hear was Tyson murmuring praise at you, and you still remembered the feeling of the fingers that had been spanking you harshly before were suddenly running in sooth circles down your arm and back.

You felt cared for. Safe.

And it clicked. What if you could do that for Tys?

There wasn’t any time for sleep. You had research to do.

When Tyson arrived at 10am that morning, he smelled like himself, and a bit of Mikko’s cologne which he always used too much of.

You inhaled it deep as you hugged your boyfriend close. His hand scrunched in the fabric of your shirt, which was actually one of his, on your back like you were the cliff’s edge and he was about to fall.

For a moment, you just held each other. Afraid to break the silence.

“Hi, babe,” You finally said, turning so it wasn’t muffled in his chest.

“Hey.” The word sounded so sad.

You pulled away to cup at his cheek, forcing eye contact. His eyes, normally so brown and bright, looked dull like the dirt outside your complex.

“So, I know you probably want to decompress,” You started. “But I was wondering if you wanted to try something with me.”

His hand finally loosened its grip at your back. “What?”

“Remember how well you treated me last week when I was sad?” You asked, rubbing your thumb against the stubble on his cheekbone. He nodded. “Are you interested in me doing the same for you?”

His eyebrow raised as it clicked for him. “You want to dom me?”

You bit your lip, “Kind of. I’ve never done it before but...” You tried to find the words. “I want to try it with you.”

He finally smiled. “I’m down to try something new. Anything for you, babe.”

You grinned and then tried to slip into Domme mode.

“Same rules as when we’ve done it with you domming. No harsh impact play, no marks, and the safe word is ‘dakota.’ Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” he said, no hesitation.

“Do you promise to tell me the instant you want to stop?”

“Yes.”

You smiled, “Good boy.”

And you watched as his eyes brightened, dilating already, and his tongue poked out of his lips, like it always did when he approached a challenge.

“You ready?” You asked.

Instead of answering, he grabbed you by your hips and tugged you close for a searing kiss that made your head spin. He tasted like mints and the cookies on the Avs plane.

“You’re so awesome,” he said. “I love you.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Love you too, but don’t distract me, I’m trying to get into a mindset here.”

He nodded, tongue sticking out again.

You took a deep breath and straightened your shoulders. “I want you to go into the bedroom, shirt off in just your boxers and wait for me. You have five minutes.”

He nodded and disappeared down the hall.

As you waited, you tied your hair into a ponytail so it wouldn’t be in your face and debated if you wanted anything. Like ice cubes, which Tyson had very sexy talents with. Or maybe some of his ties, but you didn’t want to hurt him.

Maybe for trying something new, it was best to keep it simple. If you both liked it, you could always add more later.

You slipped into your sexiest heels, ones you normally saved for nights out with him at swanky restaurants in Denver. Underneath his shirt, you wore your favorite lingerie set, optimistic he’d be up for the plan.

You shimmied out of your jean shorts, left in just the lingerie and t-shirt that covered it. Should be a fun surprise for him to unwrap.

With another minute left in your countdown, you head down the hallway to your bedroom, finding Tyson already sprawled out in just his boxers like you asked. He stared at the ceiling, one hand on his chest where his fingers tapped away.

“Hello, baby,” You greeted, and he looked up.

He opened his mouth to speak, but a look from you snapped it shut.

You settled next to him on the bed, on your knees but kneeling over him.

“Grab onto the headboard behind you, however comfortable. I don’t want to hurt your elite hands,” You said.

“They’re not that elite,” he grumbled as he got into position.

You swatted at his thigh, “Shut up. No disparaging yourself here. This is a Tyson Positivity Only Zone. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” Fuck, you didn’t actually tell him what you wanted to be called.

“Yes, mistress,” he said instantly.

That worked. You kissed where you just hit on his thigh, “Good boy.”

The muscles in his stomach tensed slightly then relaxed.

You pulled away again to strip off the t-shirt slowly. He loved this set on you, and his eyes were dark with interest as they trailed over your body.

“What’s the safe word again, baby?”

“Dakota.”

“You’ll say it if you want me to stop?”

“Yes, mistress.”

You tugged his boxers down his legs and tossed them off in the corner somewhere. His dick twitched, already hardening.

Hand slow and loose you jerked him off, nothing really satisfying for him, probably, but a little taste.

“Do you want to be a good boy for me, Tyson?”

“Yes, mistress.” The moniker was hitched on his lips.

“Good boys get rewards,” You said. “But you have to earn them.”

You let go of his cock and he whined a little but didn’t otherwise complain. You turned over and pulled your own panties down your legs as tantalizingly as possible. His neck was craned to study you as you moved, eyes unwavering.

The power made your head rush a little, but you reigned it in. This night was about getting Tyson out of his head.

You kicked the panties off on the bed and undid your heels. You didn’t need the power they offered right now.

“Slid down so you’re flat against the bed,” You ordered and your boyfriend was quick to comply.

“I want you to eat me out,” You said. “And make me cum. You have ten minutes.”

You probably weren’t going to time him this time, but you knew he liked the challenge.

Like you expected, Tyson’s eyes lit up even more as he wiggled to get comfortable.

“If you need me to stop, pinch my thigh for three seconds,” You said before you climbed onto his face.

“Yes, mistress.”

You straddled over his face, facing the wall and you hovered slightly. “You ready?”

“Yes, mistress.”

You lowered onto his face, and he immediately started licking at you like you were ice cream and he didn’t want you to melt.

But oh how you melted anyway. Tyson was so fucking gifted with his sinful tongue, licking, nibbling, sucking.

You cried out, gripping the headboard yourself, hand bumping against his. He moved so your fingers intertwined and you used your leverage to start riding his face more eagerly.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so good,” You said, near babbling. “So good for me, I love you so much, fuck, Tys. Fuck- fuck.”

That egged him on, going harder against you and your clit. Did you say ten minutes? It wasn’t going to be more than five.

His other hand moved from the headboard and you froze, waiting for the pinch, but instead he grabbed the flesh of your ass and squeezed.

You moaned and rode his face harder until you came with a shout of his name above him. Even though you wanted to collapse, you climbed off of him, untangling from his hands. He laid smugly on the bed, eyes closed and self-satisfied.

“You did so well, Tys,” You tried to sound composed but you were still panting. “But you broke the rules. You were supposed to hold onto the headboard.”

He sat up, eyes flying wide open

“Did I disappoint you, mistress?” He sounded so sad.

Fuck, that’s not what you wanted at all.

“No, of course not, babe, I love you,” You quickly reassured. “But I do have to punish you.”

He nodded in understanding.

“But you did such a good job making me cum, I think I can find a nice balance,” You said. “I’m going to suck you off, and you have to stop me before you cum. Do you understand?”

“Yes, mistress.”

You settled at his hips, kissing down his chest, before you reached his cock. It was much harder now, curved toward his stomach, and god you wanted to fuck it so badly, but he hadn’t earned it yet.

Before you got started, you studied Tyson from your spot above him. His cheeks were flushed, curls a little sweaty, mouth still wet with you. He looked just a little wrecked but like he wanted to keep going.

You asked anyway to be sure, “You okay?”

He nodded and licked his lips. “Yes, mistress. But, um, remember how we said no marks?”

“Yes?”

“Will you mark me up, please mistress?” He blinked at you earnestly. “Scratch up my chest, please. I- I want to feel it.”

You took a deep breath. The most pain had been a part of your sex life was in him spanking you, but he just used his hands (and one memorable time, your hairbrush). “Are you sure, Tyson?”

“Yes, mistress, I want it. Please.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” You said and used one hand to get his cock in your mouth and used the other to find purchase on his chest, lightly scratching down his pecs to his abs as you sucked him into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he shouted. “God, Y/N, so fucking-”

You pulled off his cock, dragging your nails down his side to get his attention. “Don’t say a word, just moans until you’re telling me you’re about to cum or your safe word. Do you understand?”

He nodded wordlessly.

You took his cock into your mouth again, enjoying the weight on your tongue. Normally, you did this kneeling while he stood or while he sat on the bed, because he liked to fuck your throat, and you liked your throat being fucked.

But now, he had no leverage. With his strong hockey body, he probably could easily slide further down your throat, but he held back.

To reward him, you sucked him deeper, scratching down further to his hip bones and the tops of his thighs. You definitely weren’t breaking skin, but his moans and whimpers indicated he liked the sensation.

You took him as deep as you could, his cock heavy as you tried to lick at it. His knee twitched beside you, and he said, “I’m coming, Mistress, I’m about-”

You quickly pulled off, and you watched as he tried to compose himself.

“So good for me, stopping me,” You cooed, cupping his face again and stroking his cheek. “Such a good boy listening. Do you feel properly punished?”

“Yes, mistress,” he said, still a bit out of breath.

“I’m going to ride you,” You said. “You have to keep just one hand on the headboard this time, and you have to make me cum before you. But as soon as I’ve cum, you can cum. But not before. Do you understand?”

“Yes, mistress.”

“Good boy,” You said. “Won’t take long, probably, you were so good making me cum earlier.”

He smirked a little as he grabbed the headboard again with his right hand, but he didn’t say a word.

You slowly sat on his cock, moaning as you did. You and Tyson had agreed to stop using condoms last month since you’d been having no problems with your birth control and you were thrilled with this new development as well.

“God, you feel so good inside me,” You said, starting to move almost instantly, needing to cum again. “I love you, fuck.”

You had no rhythm on top of him, just moving to get yourself to cum, moaning in cut off little breaths. Because you remembered his words, you kept your nails running up and down him, digging into his pecs a little because, god, he was built.

“Make me cum, baby.” You almost begged and immediately, Tyson’s hand was on your hip, rubbing on your clit with his thumb.

You cried out his name as you came for the second time, trying to keep riding him even though your legs felt like jello.

But you didn’t have to keep moving long, because Tyson soon came with a shout inside you, body straightening before similarly melting.

You climbed off him. You know you should clean up but you cuddled up next to him.

“So good for me baby,” You said, running your fingers through his curls and you sidled up next to him. You were both sweaty but you wanted to be close to him.

His head lolled onto your chest lazily, “I was good?”

“So good,” You repeated and kissed the crown of his forehead. “Did you have a good time?”

“The best.” He leaned up to kiss you. “Holy fuck, we gotta do that again.”

You laughed breathlessly, “That can definitely be arranged.”

He kissed you softly but almost like a promise, and then pulled away. “Let’s get cleaned up. If I can still move.”

You giggled and kissed him again.

The next day, you’re relaxing on your sofa watching trashy TV Tyson hated since he was at practice with the boys and you had the day off.

Your phone buzzed with a text, interrupting the third fight on the show where someone threw water at someone else in a fit of “rage”.

You checked it, expecting to see Tyson or, god forbid, a work email when it was from J.T. Compher.

JT: What did you do to my boy???

You clicked on the image and a blush burned across your cheeks.

It was a picture in the locker room, a selfie of him and your boyfriend. Tyson had his tongue out holding up a peace sign with a wink with the red marks from last night zigzagging across his chest. He seemingly had no such qualms as you did, absolutely uninhibited.

You: 😳🥴

You quickly pulled up your messages with Tys.

You: stop bragging!

Tys 💖: lots to brag about babe 😘

Your blush didn’t disappear but you still laughed. God, your boyfriend was silly. But you were so glad he was yours.

Note: thank u for reading! hope i did this idea justice!

#colorado avalanche smut #nhl imagines #tyson jost imagine #tyson jost smut #mywriting #hockey imagines

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fangirlwriting-stories · 3 years ago

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Fight or Flight

Chapter One

Chapter Two:

It had taken Virgil a while to settle on a name, but once Remus revealed his and Deceit teased the fact that he had one, Wrath had proclaimed that they needed names too. Virgil hadn’t really cared one way or another, but Wrath had poured over internet searches with him, and Virgil had settled on what he chose when they learned it meant “vigilance.” It wasn’t the most standard, but it felt like his, and he liked it. Wrath was still looking, despite his declaration that they both needed to have a name.

Life as part of Remus and Deceit’s “crew” was very unusual compared to what Virgil was used to. They got to eat out in the open, in the kitchen, three times a day. Sometimes Deceit even made meals for them. Virgil had never had an actual meal before. It was… surprisingly nice. So far his favorite was any kind of breakfast for dinner.

Deceit and Remus seemed to understand how exhausted Virgil and Wrath both were, and so for the first couple weeks, Deceit said they’d let them both hide out in their rooms and decompress. But first, they ended up having a conversation that was more than a little surprising.

“So,” Deceit said, right after he finished telling them such. “Before you both head off, what do you want?”

Virgil blinked, and exchanged a confused look with Wrath. “What do you mean?” he asked cautiously, turning back to Deceit.

“Well, I’m not going to force you to help with my schemes without giving you something in return,” Deceit said. “For example, Remus gets free access to his brother’s side of the Imagination—”

“I get to fuck with him whenever I want!” Remus said happily.

Deceit smiled in amusement. “Yes. So, what would you two like in return for helping?”

Virgil didn’t have a clue what to say. What did he want? When was he ever allowed to focus on that?

Wrath didn’t seem to be having the same issue, though. “I want another function,” he said immediately, and Virgil glanced over in surprise. “I don’t care if Avarice has to technically respect us now, I don’t trust him to leave me alone, and if he tries to pull what he did last time, I’m still in trouble with just the one function. I want another one.”

Virgil stared at him for a minute, surprised that Wrath was being so… practical. Normally he gave long talks about what was fair and what he deserved. He… he didn’t actually think that Deceit was going to let them have what they wanted the rest of the time, did he?

But before Virgil could speak up, Deceit nodded. “Fair enough,” he said. “I don’t think it would be a good idea to hunt Avarice down and try and take another function from him. He’s fairly on guard right now. If you’d like, I could share part of my function of Thomas’ self love with you.”

Wrath nodded. “That works,” he said. And so, in a way that was similar to how Virgil had done it, except not by force, Deceit reached inside his chest and pulled out a function. It was soft and warm and yet somehow blazing and fierce at the same time. Virgil watched in astonishment as Deceit split it in half, and floated the warm and fierce half over to Wrath, letting the soft and blazing piece dart back inside himself. He glanced up at Wrath, who nodded.

Deceit turned to Virgil a second later. “Well?”

“Uh…�� Virgil couldn’t think so quickly, not with all this pressure. “Uh… can I decide later?” he said, wincing.

“Of course,” Deceit said, thankfully not sounding the least bit bothered. “There’s no time limit. Just let me know when you decide.”

Virgil nodded shakily, trying to process the enormous responsibility that came with that. He had no idea where to even start with figuring that out.

It had been weeks, and he still wasn’t sure.

He’d spent the time in his room both trying to figure that out, and also trying to understand what life would be like if he didn’t have to be in survival mode. Wrath had gotten on his case enough times about decorating his room and finding some hobbies, but he was adjusting to everything too, and he didn’t have a clue how to start with all that stuff on his own either.

So instead, he spent the weeks off laying in his room and trying to convince his brain that everything was going to be fine now, and there was no reason to be scared for his life anymore. But he was pretty sure he’d picked a good function name with Anxiety, because his brain couldn’t seem to let the issue go. And due to the fact that he had two functions now, it took him a while to decide what exactly he wanted to do about it.

He imagined the two functions would settle more the longer he had them, and he’d be less of a walking tug-of-war. But for now, the fight and flight responses seemed a little at war with each other. Part of him wanted to do what he had always done, and run and hide until it was safe (coincidentally, that was also the part of him that wouldn’t believe that he was safe now). The other part of him, the part that had stood up for Wrath and was fed up with living in fear, wanted to lean into this new function and use it to make his life better than it had been before.

Virgil wasn’t really surprised where he ended up at the end of the two weeks.

Remus brightened when he opened his door to find him there. “Hi Virgey!” he called happily. “You’re out of your room!”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, smiling a little back. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Yes, I will go over all the reasons that Thomas is definitely gay with you. So one, he’s never once looked at a girl that way, two—”

“What? No. And Thomas isn’t gay, shut up. I want you to teach me to fight.”

Remus somehow lit up more. “You want me to beat you to a pulp with your permission this time?”

“Well, that’s not exactly what I meant—”

“I would love to! Go ask Wrath if he wants to join and meet me in the Imagination!”

Remus ducked back into his room and shut the door after him, leaving Virgil standing in the hallway. After a minute, he headed over to Wrath’s room and knocked on the door as a warning, before heading in a second later. They’d long moved past the need for knocking, but it had been a rough couple of weeks, and he imagined he would have appreciated the knocking if Wrath was coming into his room.

“Hey,” Virgil said, poking his head in just in case Wrath was busy with something. “I asked Remus to teach me how to fight. He wants to know if you want to join.”

Wrath glanced up from his desk and over at Virgil. “Oh. Okay. Are you sure learning to fight from Remus is the best idea?”

“It’s a better idea than learning how to fight through experience.”

Wrath shrugged. “Fair enough I guess. When are we doing this?”

“Now.”

Wrath blinked. “Now?”

“You don’t have to come.”

“No, I’m coming,” Wrath said, pushing the chair back and standing. “Honestly I just wasn’t expecting you to want to do something like that.”

“New functions are strange things,” Virgil said. “I’m still figuring this one out, but I thought I might as well help it along.”

“Fair enough,” Wrath said, looking down at his own chest, and they both crossed the commons, without ducking behind any furniture, and headed into Remus’ room. Virgil suspected he’d let them in without knocking, and he was right.

The door to the Imagination on the other side of the room was left open, and when they walked through it, Remus was finishing putting the final touches on what looked like a sparring ring.

“Hey!” Remus called, as soon as he noticed they were there. “Okay, so before we actually start sparring, do you know anything about how to fight safely?”

Virgil and Wrath exchanged a glance. “Uh… not really,” Virgil admitted, looking back over.

“I tried to convince him to fight like a million times before he actually did,” Wrath said with a shrug.

“Hey,” Virgil said, whacking Wrath on the arm half-seriously.

“Okay,” Remus said, and Virgil couldn’t quite read his tone. “This’ll be fun then.”

“What do you—” Virgil started, but his question was cut off when Remus ran straight for him and threw a punch at his head. Virgil yelped and dove to the side, and the fist met with empty air. “Hey, what the hell!”

“Aw come on, hold still so I can punch you,” Remus said, still grinning. He dove for Wrath this time, who ducked under Remus’ arm and ended up on the other side of Virgil.

“Thanks for staying together, at least!” Remus called, whirling to face them, meaning that as he dove for them again Virgil and Wrath both split off in opposite directions.

“I thought you were going to teach us how to punch or something!” Virgil snapped.

“Aw, but where’s the fun in that?” Remus asked, leaping for him again as Virgil ducked down to avoid his fist and slid between his legs. He couldn’t be lucky forever, though, and as he stood up Remus caught him by the arm and spun him into the wall. Virgil shook off the shock just in time to slip sideways and avoid Remus’ fist then, meaning it connected with the wall instead.

“Oh, fuck, that hurt!” Remus said, even though he was still grinning for some reason. He waved his hand, and it looked like several broken bones healed themselves. He threw another swing at Virgil, and Virgil darted around him, then ran for the door, where Wrath was already headed.

“Hey, I’m not done with you yet!” Remus called, and the door disappeared just as they both reached it.

Virgil spun around and started looking for other ways out, and Wrath glared at Remus. “Hey, that’s not—” he called, but Remus just aimed a kick at his head.

Wrath gave a growl of frustration and kicked at Remus’ leg still on the ground, and Remus fell over onto his back just in time for Wrath to put a foot on his chest.

“Jeez, finally,” Remus said, grinning up at Wrath from where he was pinned.

“What the hell do you mean finally?” Wrath snapped. “And what the hell was that?”

“That was me proving you two were full of bullshit,” Remus said, leaning to the side and biting Wrath’s leg. Wrath cried out, more in surprise than pain, and jerked backwards, giving Remus time to leap to his feet.

“You said you didn’t know anything about fighting,” Remus said.

“We don’t,” Virgil said, crossing his arms. “I asked you to teach us for that very reason!”

“Really? Cause I was only sort of taking it easy on you, and you dodged me pretty well,” Remus said, raising his eyebrows.

“Well yeah,” Virgil said. “You learn how to dodge if it keeps you alive. What’s your point?”

“Dodging is a part of fighting, dummies,” Remus said, rolling his eyes. “You can’t just expect to win every fight with offense.”

“That’s what Avarice did, though,” Wrath said, tipping his head in confusion.

“Yeah, cause Avarice is a pathetic coward who was only used to winning due to the fact that he was on top of all the other single-function sides. You were there when he lost, like, immediately after Virgil stood up to him, right?”

Virgil blinked. “But that’s not—”

“Whatever you’re about to say, yes it is. You’re both very good at defense. You could probably get your opponent spinning themselves in circles and get them off guard with no effort. The part you need to learn is how to use those moments after you create them. That requires brain stuff and logic.” Remus looked at Wrath. “That whole time I was shoving Virgil into the wall, you could have used to sneak up on me from behind. And you could have done the leg sweeping when you ducked under my arm and ended the fight right then and there.” He turned to Virgil. “While I was approaching Wrath at the end there, you should have been looking for weaknesses on my other side and using them to weaken me so he could take me out. Fighting two against one isn’t hard if you both know what you’re doing, you know.”

Virgil took all of that information in. Surprisingly, Remus had several very good points. “Okay,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean we know how to actually hit someone where it’s going to hurt.”

“Fair enough,” Remus admitted. “We can start with the basics there. Make a fist.”

Virgil did his best interpretation, and Wrath did the same next to him.

“You want your thumb outside your fingers,” Remus said to Wrath. “And Virgil, if you put it up along the side like that you’re going to break your thumb when you hit something. Like this.” He put his thumb on the underside of his fingers, and Virgil and Wrath both copied it.

“Okay,” Remus said with an approving nod. “Now we’re getting somewhere.” He waved his hand, and a couple punching bags appeared over by the wall. “Let’s get started.”

…

Fighting might have been exhausting, but it didn’t take Virgil very long to realize that he fucking loved it. It was playing directly into his strengths and just reframing them in a different way. He learned pretty quickly to recognize those moments Remus said he and Wrath could create so well, and once he saw them all the time, it was incredibly satisfying to use them to his advantage. Remus said he still needed to work on not ducking and running so often, and Wrath needed to learn how to be a little more precise with his movements, but pretty soon Remus stopped taking it easy on them entirely, and they could both still keep up. Remus gave them both free access to the training room he’d created, and Virgil started finding himself in there more often than not. His new function was very happy about it. Virgil suspected he’d still be a little more ‘flight’ than ‘fight’ for a while since the latter was still so new, but he was beginning to recognize when one was the more logical move over the other in a given situation.

But something that also came as a surprise in an entirely different way was that Remus didn’t seem to want to spend all of his time fighting. In fact, more often than not, when Virgil used his new permission to head into Remus’ room without knocking, he found the side doing something else entirely. Remus was currently on a trend of making a lot of stories of grotesque animal deaths, and they freaked Virgil out, but he had to admit they were well done. He also seemed to like painting and singing, and then there was what happened when Virgil walked in today, and he found him in the bathroom doing something with his face.

“Remus?” Virgil asked, and looked down at the stuff on the counter. It was some kind of powdery thing that Remus was rubbing near his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Eyeshadow,” Remus said, without looking back over at Virgil. “Hang on, I’ll suck your dick in a second.”

“Okay, first of all, ew. Second, what do you mean eyeshadow? Your eyes don’t just look like that?”

Remus finished with the rubbing and turned to look over at Virgil. “You thought my eyelids were naturally purple?”

“Uh… they’re not?”

Remus snorted. “Okay, let me show you. Pick a color.”

Virgil looked down at the powders on the counter. “Uh, black. Why?”

“C’mere,” Remus said, picking up a different tool and rubbing the foam end in the black powder. Virgil stepped closer, and then Remus suddenly got very close to his face, very quickly.

Virgil flinched backwards, and a second later, he gagged. “Dude, your breath stinks.”

“Why thank you! Now hold still Virge, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Virgil did manage to hold still, despite Remus’ close distance and terrible breath, and after a while, Remus leaned back. “Hmm. Okay, what do you think?”

He turned Virgil to face the mirror, and Virgil leaned closer in surprise. “You made it black,” he said, reaching up towards the space under his eyes.

“Hey, don’t touch it!” Remus called, catching his hand. “You’ll rub it away!”

Virgil moved his hand down but didn’t stop looking in the mirror. After another moment, he started to grin. “That’s cool as shit,” he said. “I didn’t know you could do that!”

“You’ve never heard of makeup before?” Remus asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ve kind of been focused on other things for most of my life,” Virgil said, looking down at the powder. “How often do you do that?”

“Every morning,” Remus said. “How else do you think I look this hot all the time?”

Virgil grinned at him. “Can I have some?”

Remus brightened. “Absolutely!” He waved his hand, and a new set of the foam tools he used and the powder appeared in his hand. “Go nuts!”

Virgil took them and shoved them into his hoodie pocket, which was still where he kept important things like food and water, so the eyeshadow ended up sitting on top of the snacks and water bottle he had in case Deceit decided not to let them into the kitchen that night.

“If you want tips or tricks at any point, let me know and I’ll help you out!” Remus said happily. “Dee hasn’t ever really been interested in this stuff, so I learned it all on my own.”

“I think I might just take you up on that,” Virgil said, since Remus obviously did a fantastic job based on Virgil’s limited knowledge.

He put the eyeshadow in his bathroom later, which had never been much to him before other than just a bathroom, as well as his source of drinking water. But after that, Virgil ended up there every morning to put eyeshadow on. Wrath smiled at him when he noticed it and said he looked good, which cemented Virgil deciding to keep it right then and there. When he told Remus, he taught him how to summon his own, so he didn’t have to ask every time.

Wrath hadn’t been doing anything with makeup, but he was trying different outfit styles, and he seemed to like the experimenting just as much as the way most of them looked on him. It was fun to see him try. Remus offered them plenty of sparkly outfits too, which Virgil definitely wasn’t going to take him up on.

He was dreading the inevitable day that Wrath did.

…

One of the things Virgil was still getting used to was the idea that they could spend time in the commons now. The first time Avarice spotted them there, Virgil had needed to try hard not to let his fear show, but it was helped along by Avarice’s rage quickly turning into the same look of forced respect he’d given Remus.

It had been gleefully satisfying, but also cemented the fact that Virgil had pretty much already been certain of. If he wanted to keep this lifestyle, if he didn’t want to have to fear for his life anymore, if he wanted Avarice’s delicious forced respect, Deceit was the one he couldn’t piss off. Because when Avarice talked to Remus, or now Virgil and Wrath too, the emotion underlying the respect was anger.

With Deceit, it was fear.

So when Virgil spent time in the commons, he made a point to make sure Deceit wasn’t around, at least until he could figure out whether or not he was okay with Virgil being there. Virgil had warned Wrath of this too, but in typical “fairness” fashion, Wrath had taken to spending time in the commons whenever he wanted because he said he deserved it.

So when Virgil spotted him looking through the movie closet, he immediately walked over and put his hands on his hips. “Are you nuts?”

Wrath jumped slightly and turned. A second later, he brightened. “Oh, hey Virgil! You want to watch a movie with me?”

“You can’t stay out here in the commons that long!” Virgil exclaimed.

“Yes, I can. We can,” Wrath said.

“Deceit will find out,” Virgil hissed.

Wrath narrowed his eyes, even if Virgil could see the fear underneath. “It’ll be fine,” he said.

“Wrath—”

“Look, Deceit can’t kick us out of the commons whenever he wants,” Wrath says.

“Of course he can! He’s Deceit! He gets to do anything he wants!”

“Yes,” Wrath said. “But it would—”

“It wouldn’t be fair, I get it,” Virgil groaned, looking up at the ceiling.

“Actually, I was going to say it would be cruel. We deserve to stay out here and relax if we want to. Come on, let’s watch…” He pulled a movie out. “This one.”

Virgil looked at the movie and then raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding me? You want to risk getting caught out here by Deceit in order to watch a movie called The Little Mermaid?”

Wrath looked down at the movie, seemed to hesitate for a minute, then narrowed his eyes further and crossed his arms. “Absolutely.”

Virgil gave a long sigh and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. If Wrath was going to be out here, it’s not like he could leave him by himself. “Fine,” Virgil said, shaking his head. “Let’s do it.”

Wrath lit up, and they walked over to the couch to sit down and watch a movie that was absolutely going to be a cheesy terrible kid film.

…And it sort of started out that way.

“There’s a sea witch?” Virgil asked in surprise, leaning a little closer to the TV.

“That’s what it said,” Wrath said, glancing over at him. “Why? Is that interesting?”

“What? No,” Virgil said, crossing his arms and glaring away. “I’m just… surprised.”

Wrath snickered, and Virgil decided he wasn’t going to have any more positive reactions for the rest of the movie.

Unfortunately, that didn’t last long, because then the sea witch started singing. By the time Ariel ended up as a human up on the land, Virgil was fully invested, and there he had no doubt that Wrath could tell. But he couldn’t find it in him to care, because Wrath had been pushing him to find hobbies for years, and did he mention that the sea witch could sing?!

By the time they reached the mind control of Prince Eric and the wedding that Ariel had to rush to stop, Virgil was up and pacing back and forth while making sure he could still see the screen. The final battle came a few minutes later, and Virgil just straight up walked back and yanked Wrath off the couch and started shaking him (while still watching the movie, of course). “Dude, she sounds like she’s using my tempest voice and looks like a giant evil Remus, could this get any more awesome?!”

Wrath started laughing, and then as Virgil watched, this children’s movie’s climax ended with the prince stabbing the witch in the fucking stomach. Virgil sat on the couch and gaped for every second of the happy ending.

“Oh. my. god.” He turned and looked at Wrath. “Who made that movie? Is there more? Oh my god, please let there be more!”

“Uh…” Wrath grabbed the case for the tape they’d been watching and looked for a name. After a second, his face screwed up in confusion. “Um, I think it’s… Gisney?”

“The hell kind of name is that?” Virgil asked, peering over at it. “Oh whatever, is there more? Come on, we have to find more!”

He dragged Wrath back over towards the closet and started handing him movies that had the same logo on it. There were quite a few in there, and he handed Wrath a movie called Bambi, one called The Lion King, Hercules, Mulan, Tarzan, Cinderella. There were far too many for them to be able to watch all of them right now, but they were definitely going to sit here until dinnertime, Deceit be damned.

…Okay not really. But unless he literally screamed at Virgil to get out, Virgil was staying right here. He had movies to watch.

…

Wrath was surprisingly willing to watch what they learned were called Disney movies with Virgil most of the time, despite the fact that he didn’t seem to love them as much as Virgil did. He still liked them, but Virgil wasn’t sure what else he could do other than eat, sleep, and breathe Disney until he finished all of the movies, and Wrath didn’t seem quite that interested. There were days that he wanted to do other things, and Virgil wasn’t going to hold him hostage, but he also didn’t want to watch movies out in the commons alone in case Deceit got mad, which was how Virgil ended up asking Remus.

Remus was surprised and amused when he learned that Virgil hadn’t ever heard of Disney before recently, and said Virgil would probably get along with his brother.

“The Core Creativity?” Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow. “I definitely wouldn’t.”

“Don’t shoot the idea down so quickly,” Remus said with a grin. “He likes Disney too, you know.”

“And I would bet you that is where the similarities end,” Virgil said, looking through the movies on the table and trying to decide if he should watch Dumbo or The Fox and the Hound next.

“You might be right about that,” Remus admitted. “Okay, hey, enough with the fantasy type stuff. My turn to pick a Disney movie.”

“I don’t know if I want to know what you would consider a good Disney movie,” Virgil said. “You can’t just appreciate the giant tentacle monsters when they come up?”

“Oh, come on. You’ll like this one!” Remus exclaimed.

Virgil gave him a look for a moment, considered the chances of that being true, and shrugged. “Alright. What’s it called?”

“Okay, so this isn’t a traditional Disney movie, but it totally counts because Disney’s still the company behind it and it’s awesome,” Remus said, jumping up and moving over to the closet, and returning with a movie he shoved into Virgil’s hands called The Nightmare Before Christmas.

“Oh, hey, what’s Christmas?” Virgil asked. “I see decorations set up for it every winter, but I’ve never actually gotten to celebrate it.”

“Eh, the movie will explain it,” Remus said, waving his hand dismissively. “Besides, this is really a Halloween movie.”

“What’s Halloween?” Virgil asked.

Remus gaped at him. “You don’t know what Halloween is?”

“I don’t really know what Christmas is either,” Virgil pointed out. “I’ve heard of it. It’s a holiday, right? Something with costumes?”

“Um, it’s the holiday! It’s so much better than Christmas! Have you not noticed that every September through November the mindscape down here practically turns into a haunted house?”

“Oh, is that what all of that was for,” Virgil said. “I appreciated that. It gave me tons of new hiding places and ways to blend in.”

“Virgil,” Remus said, pulling Virgil closer and grabbing him by the shoulders so he could look him in the eyes. “Halloween is not about being scared. It’s about being scary! Well, and going around to strangers’ houses and not getting kidnapped and getting free candy, but also being scary! Just— oh my god, sit down, we’re watching this movie.”

Remus sat Virgil back in the spot that he’d dragged him out of in the first place and played the Halloween movie that was still technically a Disney movie. But it wasn’t long before Virgil found that unlike traditional Disney movies, that hid dark implications under the surface, this movie was entirely about that kind of stuff. He got sucked in just as quickly to this one as he did to a typical Disney movie, and it was clear Remus was noticing, because Virgil could feel him bouncing on the couch next to him. By the end of it, they were both talking excitedly about it and shooting ideas back and forth.

“Hey,” Remus said suddenly, cutting off one of Virgil’s questions. “Do you want to help me make decorations this year?”

Virgil started grinning. “I can do that?”

“Are you kidding, that would be awesome!” Remus exclaimed, jumping up off the couch and pulling Virgil with him. “Hang on, let me show you what my ideas are this time, because see, with last years look, it was good, but it was missing a little something. And you know all of Thomas’ fears, so I think that could be really helpful, and—” Remus kept going on with ideas, and by the time they got back to the room Virgil was thinking too. He wasn’t sure how much help he would be, given that he wasn’t Creativity, but he was willing to share thoughts or be a rubber duck if Remus wanted.

And this Halloween thing sounded better than he thought it had been. Virgil found himself looking forward to it.

…

There were times Virgil wondered if he would ever stop being a little bit afraid all the time. He couldn’t see Avarice without having some level of a fear reaction, despite the side not being much of a part of his life in any way anymore. Virgil spotted him slinking around the halls with sides like Malice or Cruelty and sometimes smirked at him when they made eye contact, because he knew Avarice couldn’t do anything about it anymore. Sometimes he would have a nightmare about Avarice and get out of bed at night and go check to make sure Wrath was still alive. Sometimes Wrath would check on him, so at least he wasn’t alone in that regard.

However, most of the time none of that was an issue. Because as his brain finally started to settle down a little bit, Virgil realized that life as part of Remus and Deceit’s crew was actually pretty good. He liked Remus a lot. He and Wrath both sparred with him often, and Remus helped him try different styles of makeup (though black eyeshadow was still his usual). Wrath spent a lot of time helping Remus edit stories he was working on, and was surprisingly good at it. Virgil realized after a couple months that he could actually leave Wrath alone and not have to worry about returning to find him dead. But there was still one part of all of this change that didn’t feel as good, and that was Deceit.

Virgil could not wrap his head around the side. Why give them free access to the commons? At least, he would have stopped Virgil by now if he wasn’t allowed to hang out there, right? Why check on Remus all the time? He didn’t have to worry that Remus would turn up dead, did he? Why on earth did he make meals for all of them? He was teaching Wrath how to cook, why was he doing that? He didn’t gain anything out of any of that. In fact, sometimes he seemed irritated when Remus interrupted him to show him something, or ask him something, but he stopped anyway and gave it his attention.

Virgil couldn’t wrap his head around it. So most of the time, he ended up avoiding Deceit. It’s what he’d done in the past. Stay out of his way, don’t give Deceit a reason to sign off on his death. They could tolerate each other’s existence, and that would be fine. He didn’t expect anyone to call him out on it.

It ended up being Wrath that did so.

Virgil was hanging his new Nightmare Before Christmas posters in his room and listening to a band he found. It was called Evanescence, and it was fantastic. He needed to hear more of this kind of music in general. He’d see what he could find the next couple of weeks.

“Hey.”

Virgil yelped and nearly fell off the chair. He heard just as surprised of a cry behind him and was caught and steadied by Wrath.

“Fuck,” Virgil said, spinning around. “Don’t you know better than to sneak up on me like that by now?”

“Sorry, I was planning on knocking,” Wrath said, smiling a little.

“And what happened to that plan?” Virgil asked, reaching out and pausing the music he was listening to.

“I don’t know, it’s just… nice,” Wrath said, looking around the room.

“What’s nice?”

“Watching you figure out who you are then being yourself. I told you it was worth it.”

“Yes, yes, you were right all along. Shut up,” Virgil said, finishing adjusting his posters and climbing down from the chair. “So what’s going on?”

“I was wondering if I could ask you something,” Wrath said, as Virgil picked up his desk chair and moved it back over to his desk.

Virgil gave him a look over his shoulder. “Well, now that I’m appropriately anxious, sure.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Wrath said. “I mean, I don’t think.”

“Wow, thanks, now I’m not anxious at all.”

“Yeah, that probably didn’t help huh. Look just— why do you never talk to Deceit?”

Virgil startled at the question. “What do you mean? Did— has he said something to you? Does he not like it or something?”

“What? No, I just noticed. I mean, it’s one thing if you still just talked to me, but you talk to Remus all the time, and you two hang out on your own too. What’s the deal with Deceit? He doesn’t bite.”

“Are you kidding me? Yes he does! Or, he could. How many other sides do you think get to decide my fate, Wrath? You think I’m going to let my guard down around someone that powerful? He’s not going to keep us around just because! I’m not going to risk screwing that up any more than I have to! I don’t think you should either.”

But Wrath just shook his head. “That’s not what he’s like, Virgil. You should get to know him. He’s not nearly as bad as the idea you have of him.”

“Oh, no, he’s just the side that let Avarice run unchecked until the point where it almost killed us,” Virgil said. “I’m sure he’s just such a warm and caring person.”

“That’s not…” Wrath sighed. “I didn’t say he was a perfect side who can do no wrong,” he said. “But neither is Remus. He used to torment you much more directly, and you’re okay spending time with him.”

“That’s different. That gave me some protection. It was a mutually beneficial relationship.”

“And you don’t think Remus is sorry?”

Virgil blinked in surprise at the question. “What?”

Wrath sighed. “Just… try talking to Deceit. Maybe try talking to both of them. I think it’ll go differently than you expect.”

Virgil didn’t quite know what to say. He hadn’t planned on talking to Deceit ever. He had always been powerful and dangerous and he scared him.

But then again… he had never expected to have a friendship with Remus either. And he couldn’t deny that’s what the two of them were now.

“I… okay,” Virgil said. “Maybe.”

Wrath brightened.

“Maybe,” Virgil reiterated. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good enough for now,” Wrath said, and looked like he meant it.

And so Virgil did think about it. He still didn’t understand Deceit, but maybe Wrath was right, and that was something that could be helped by talking to him. First, though, he was more intrigued by what Wrath said about Remus.

“Hey, Re,” Virgil called, knocking absentmindedly on the door as he walked in. “Can I talk to you?”

Remus was dangling upside down from the ceiling by his tentacles.

“Uh… what are you doing?” Virgil asked as he approached.

“Trying to look at this painting from a different angle,” Remus said. “I don’t think it’s working. I think I might go and annoy my brother to try and get some inspiration.” He flipped himself around and landed on the bed. “What’s up?”

“I was talking to Wrath,” Virgil said, shoving his hands inside his hoodie pocket so he could fidget with his fingers. “And he said something about you feeling bad for the way you used to treat me.”

He looked up hesitantly, only to find that Remus was now looking down, pulling on his sash. “Yeah,” he muttered.

“I don’t understand why,” Virgil said, and Remus looked up instantly.

“What do you mean you don’t know why?”

“I mean… I did that on purpose. If you or Deceit had a reason to keep me around, it would make Avarice less likely to try and kill me. I knew exactly what I was getting myself into. I’m not mad at you or anything.”

Remus stared at him. “But— why jump straight to that?” he asked. “You could have asked for help.”

“From The Duke and Deceit?” Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow. “You realize you two are the highest authority down here, right? You weren’t going to listen to a scared single function side begging for protection for his life.”

Remus winced, meaning Virgil was right. “Yeah,” he admitted. “And that’s… kind of why I’m sorry.”

Virgil blinked. “Huh?”

“Look, I like doing deeply fucked up stuff and exploring that kind of thing,” Remus said. “That’s my whole job. But I mean, people also need some kind of human companionship. Dee-Dee says it’s important for me to have people that I care about, people who can trust that I won’t hurt them or abandon them. And you…” Remus crossed his arms and looked away. “You’re family now. You and Wrath. And I came really close to losing that. Or like, never having it at all. So I guess I just want to grab past me and shake him by the shoulders and tell him how important you and Wrath are gonna become to me. And that he should be doing more to help you.”

Virgil didn’t know quite what to say to that for a moment. “I think…” he said finally. “I think that’s just how life is supposed to work, Remus. Once people start to matter to you, you treat them as such. And you shouldn’t be expected to do it beforehand. It’s not your fault the stakes were life or death.”

“I mean it kind of is a little bit though?” Remus pointed out. “I could have easily done more to stop Avarice.”

Virgil shrugged. “Would you stop him if he tried that stuff again?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. That’s that, then. We’re all good. No need to feel bad anymore.”

Suddenly, in a way Virgil wasn’t expecting, all of the tension melted out of Remus. “Oh, thank fuck,” he said. “Because I hated it.”

Virgil laughed a little, and Remus grinned at him, and Virgil decided he liked how close they’d become too.

After a moment, Virgil glanced at the painting Remus was doing, and his face screwed up in confusion. “Uh… what exactly are you trying to do with this?” he asked.

Remus groaned. “I don’t know anymore! Okay, okay, let me just, like, run this by you.”

“Okay,” Virgil said, and settled back into the bed as Remus started to talk about the painting.

He didn’t fully realize until later that Wrath was right, and that the conversation had gone differently than expected. And also that it was… nice, to have it confirmed that Remus cared about him. It was a warm feeling, and not one that Virgil minded in the slightest.

It was for that reason that he decided the risk might be worth it, and went to go talk to Deceit. He knocked on his door shortly before lunch, and Deceit looked surprised when he opened it. “Anxiety,” he said, and Virgil realized in surprise that he’d never told Deceit the name he’d picked. “Can I help you with something?”

“Uh—” Virgil didn’t know where to take this conversation anymore. “Wrath— he uh, he said I should talk to you.”

“Oh? About what?”

Virgil looked around, trying to think of anything he could say. What did he say to Deceit? He didn’t know anything about him. He didn’t have a clue what would piss him off.

As a result, what ended up coming out of his mouth was “Are you mad that I spend so much time in the commons?”

Deceit’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why on earth would I be mad about that?”

“Uh… I don’t know. It’s just kind of— I mean. I never did that before. It was dangerous to spend too much time in the commons. I guess I’m wondering if it still… is?”

Deceit gave him a look for a long moment, and Virgil tried not to freak out.

“Come here,” Deceit said eventually, and walked back inside his room and over to his bed. Hesitantly, Virgil followed him and sat down.

“You seem to be under the implication,” Deceit said, turning to face him. “That I am cruel. That I rule this side of the mindscape with an iron fist and keep Remus around as a guard dog and keep you and Wrath around as a way to placate him. That I can and will throw any of you to the wolves at my slightest whim.”

Virgil didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t actually thought any of that directly, but… he couldn’t exactly say Deceit was wrong.

“Well, what other reasons could you have for letting us stick around?” he asked hesitantly.

Before Deceit could reply, there was a call of “Dee-Dee!” from behind and they both turned to see Remus poking his head in the door. “Can I add deodorant to my meal tonight?”

“So long as you keep track of which one is yours,” Deceit said, and Virgil turned back to look at him and saw him smiling in amusement, and something else he couldn’t quite place.

“Awesome!” Remus called happily, and bounded away again. Deceit shook his head, still smiling, and Virgil realized the second thing he couldn’t place was fondness.

“You…” he said slowly, and Deceit looked at him again. “You love him?”

Deceit raised an eyebrow. “I practically raised him, Anxiety,” he said. “That would of course make it quite difficult for me to love him.”

Virgil looked back over towards the way Remus had run in, and then turned again hesitantly to Deceit. “But you… you never did anything,” he said. “Avarice was killing off half of the mindscape and you didn’t even seem to care.”

Deceit sighed. “That was a grave mistake that I should have done something about long ago,” he said. “I assumed that giving more sides multiple functions would make things easier for Thomas. I wasn’t thinking of any of the sides involved at all. But then you two showed up, and I…” he sighed again. “I didn’t think of how my actions were going to affect you,” he said plainly. “I will not make that mistake again, Anxiety.”

Virgil didn’t quite know what to say at first. But Deceit didn’t look away, and he looked completely sincere. Maybe Wrath was right about this too. Maybe he wasn’t someone to fear at all times.

“…Virgil,” he said after a moment.

Deceit raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry?”

“That’s my name. I picked one. It’s Virgil.”

Deceit looked a little surprised, and Virgil suddenly started to doubt everything he ever decided he liked about his name, but all Deceit did was nod. “Virgil. Fair enough.” He was quiet for another moment, seemingly thinking. “Then I suppose you may call me Janus.”

Somehow, Virgil was equally surprised at the return of trust offered to him, but he nodded. “Okay. I…” he bit his lip. “Could I maybe get to know you? Since you don’t sound like you’re going to attempt to murder me the second I make a mistake?”

Janus smiled slightly, looking a mixture of amused and saddened, and nodded. “I think I would like that,” he said. “I’m about to go and cook dinner with Wrath. Would you like to join us?”

“Sure,” Virgil said, standing as Janus did. They both headed out towards the kitchen, and when Wrath noticed them coming, he smiled and raised an eyebrow at Virgil. Virgil flipped him off.

But yeah, he was glad he’d talked with Janus too.

…

It took Virgil a while to figure this out, because he couldn’t think of much that he wanted, not with his life having improved so much in ways he wasn’t used to. But Janus had told him he got something he wanted, and the idea had always sort of been in the back of his mind. After a while, Virgil did come to the conclusion that there was something he wanted and didn’t have.

He brought it up one night at dinner, after somehow managing to find a moment where Remus wasn’t in the middle of speaking.

“Um, I have an announcement,” he said, and everyone looked over at him. “So, Janus, you said that we get something in return for helping you, and I know I’ve kind of taken my time figuring it out, but I think I know.”

“Oh, yay!” Remus called. “Do you want access to my brother’s imagination with me? It’s so fun to fuck with his stuff, you have no idea—”

“I want to talk to Thomas,” Virgil said, and Remus, remarkably, stopped talking. All three members of his family were staring at him, and Virgil probably would have taken it back if it had been something he’d come up with that afternoon instead of something he’d been thinking about for a while.

Janus leaned towards him. “Virgil,” he said. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“But isn’t he what we do all of this for?” Virgil asked. “Don’t we all care about him? I want to meet him.”

“He’s not going to like you,” Janus warned. “Not at first, maybe not ever.”

“I know that,” Virgil said. Janus looked uncertain, and Remus cut in in his stead.

“Look, Thomathy’s fun to gross out,” he said. “But he’s definitely not going to like any of us. I don’t really care, but I don’t want you to get hurt, Virgey.”

“I’m not some fragile thing,” Virgil protested. “I know how to deal with hatred.”

“Neither of us loved Avarice,” Wrath said. “Hate hurts a lot more if it’s coming from someone you care about.”

“I’m not under some kind of delusion that Thomas is going to adore me,” Virgil said. “I know I’m going to get yelled at and kicked out. But my whole purpose now is to protect him. That would be easier to do if I could actually talk to him.”

Both Remus and Wrath still looked unsure, but Virgil looked back over at Janus just in time for him to nod.

“Alright,” he said. “Tomorrow you can talk to Thomas.”

The tension in Virgil’s chest released, and he started to smile. “Thank you,” he said, and Janus nodded again. Virgil still couldn’t read his expression, but he would get to talk to Thomas like he wanted, so he could live with that.

Janus told him after dinner that the two mindscapes were very closed off from each other, and while that would probably change once Virgil met Thomas, that meant that for now they needed to find an alternative way in. Luckily, Remus had access to his brother’s side of the imagination.

That meant that the next day, Virgil and Remus both headed through Remus’ imagination and towards the other half. Both sides of the imagination right now were various versions of kingdoms, separated by a high wall. Remus’ was crumbling and corrupt and overrun with monsters for him to beat up and empty buildings for him to destroy. He flew them on a dragon over most of it, but as they approached the wall, he waved it away, and Virgil was about to ask why when he noticed flowers starting to pop up. A rose bush over to the right, some lilacs to the left. He could have sworn he saw a rabbit just before it burrowed under the ground.

There was a door in the wall that Remus said he could open whenever he wanted, and he did so to present the Core Creativity’s imagination. The first thing Virgil saw was a couple stretches of the barren wasteland that looked like it should have been on this side of the wall, followed immediately by a cute forest filled with woodland creatures and flowers and whistling birds. Virgil looked back around the flowers on this side of the wall. The two halves of the imagination looked like they were bleeding into each other. Was that Remus’ doing?

Remus didn’t seem to pay any of this any mind, though, and just started walking into the other side of the imagination.

“Okay,” he said, as Virgil followed, only for Remus to stop just at the edge of the wasteland. “So he keeps the door to their mindscape way up in the castle, and I don’t want to walk all the way there. Just give me a sec.”

He waved his hand, and a dragon appeared, with a saddle on his back that looked ready for him to climb on.

“Why get rid of the one we made when we walked into your imagination just to make another one?” Virgil asked.

“I can’t make as much here. I have to make all of the things I want to bring over there in this spot right here, and my brother would have to do the same on the other side if he ever wanted to come visit me for some reason. Or I could give him permission to make stuff in my half, but he hasn’t for me, so why the hell would I do that for him? And anything I make in my imagination wouldn’t work over here. It’s like the mindscape wants to remind my brother that he’ll never fully get rid of me,” Remus said with a grin as he climbed onto the new dragon.

Virgil shrugged. He supposed that made some level of sense. He climbed onto the back of the dragon behind Remus and they both started flying towards the castle. They landed just outside it, and the villagers below them all started to scream and run and hide inside their houses. Remus blew a raspberry at them.

Virgil followed him into the castle and through the halls until they ended up stopping in front of a set of bright red double doors that looked different from the rest of the imagination.

Remus opened it and stepped back. “End of the line for me,” he said. “Have fun. I’ll be waiting to fly you home when you get back.”

“Thanks,” Virgil said, steeling his nerves. He stepped through the doors, and they swung shut behind him. He jumped and looked back at it. At least he would only have to do this part once, before Thomas knew about him and he just got to just appear out with him. He crept down the hallway, listening for voices, and picked up on them just before he made it around the corner. He hung back a second and peeked around the wall.

There was the Core Creativity, foot braced on a coffee table and sword stuck up in the air. He was going on a long rant to who Virgil was pretty sure was Logic, who was flipping through a book on his couch and looking amused and irritated at the same time.

“Okay,” came one last voice, and the last side that could only be Morality appeared from another room, carrying a platter of what looked like cookies. “They’re finally done.”

“Magnificent!” Core Creativity called happily, finally climbing down off the coffee table and grabbing a cookie. Morality offered one to Logic, who took it, and then grabbed one for himself. “I was just explaining how my newest story is coming along! Would you like to hear it, Padre?”

“I’d love to,” Morality said happily, and Virgil ducked back behind the wall to try and process what he was seeing. The core sides didn’t seem that different from his own family. Of course, everything up here was way too bright, and the three of them seemed like idiots who were way too optimistic about everything all the time, but other than that, they looked like a family that loved and supported each other. Why had Virgil expected anything different?

“Oh!” Core Creativity called suddenly, cutting himself off in the middle of his sentence. “Thomas is calling us!”

Virgil looked back around the corner again, and saw everyone rising to their feet, like Thomas calling them was just something that happened on a regular Tuesday.

…Holy shit, it probably was.

Virgil watched them open a white door on the wall across the room, and all of them headed through it towards Thomas.

Virgil ran into the room as soon as they all left it and opened the door himself, and through it, suddenly, was Thomas. He was sitting on his bed in his room, and Virgil took a moment just to look at him.

He was wonderful. He looked nervous about something, which was probably Virgil’s fault, but he was also smiling, and he looked up at the other sides with pleasantness in his expression, like he wanted to see them.

Virgil shook himself. That wasn’t what he was going to get, he needed to remember that. Sure enough, when he listened to the voices on the other side of the door, he heard Thomas speaking.

“I’ve just been feeling a little more anxious than usual lately. Is something going on? Are you guys okay?”

Virgil took a breath. That was his cue if he ever heard one. He took a breath and disappeared, reappearing on the other side of the door and right in front of Thomas.

Four cries of surprise sounded, and all of them turned to look directly at him.

Virgil smiled, and he was pretty sure it came off way less friendly than he intended. He was anxious, sue him. Either way, though, he looked directly at Thomas and prepared himself to say hello to his center.

“Sup.”

#sanders sides #teenage sides #virgil sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #wrath sanders #my fic

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spencersawkward · 4 years ago

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switchblade faith//spencer reid - chapter 7

summary: one month after joining the BAU, Clea is still settling in. between solving murders and getting acclimated to DC, the only comfortable thing in her life is her friendship with Dr. Spencer Reid.

relationship: Fem!OC/Spencer

word count: 4.3k

idc if i've used this gif before it's AMAZING and i love it.

masterlist

somewhat unfortunately, Halloween rolls around. between the most intense case of my career and the rest of the ones that have come in, the meaningless holiday has barely crossed my mind. it's only Penny's eager reminder to find a costume that brings it to the front of my mind. I could half-ass it and pick something stupid, but then I would feel bad. everyone else in the office is just so excited about it, I don't want to be a sour influence.

plus, we deserve to have some fun.

I decide on a simple costume and on the 31st of October, I find myself in Penelope Garcia's bathroom with a tube of cherry red lip gloss and a somewhat reluctant expression.

"oh, c'mon." her voice is muffled through the door.

"quick question," I tighten the scarlet string around my neck, looking at myself in the mirror. "how full-out did you go?"

"baby, you know I only go to the extreme." she quips. I roll my eyes playfully, then open the bathroom door, stepping into the purple hallway with what can only be feigned confidence.

it's not that I don't look pretty; I think I look good. but it's the sheer silliness of it that makes my walk a little less than proud. I stopped dressing up for Halloween before I hit twelve. and now I'm twirling (at Penelope's command) in a short dress.

"I'm not even joking, Little Red: you look hot." she says, eyeing me up and down. there's an enormous purple seashell clipped in her blonde curls, sparkles all over her skin. she looks exactly like herself-- beautiful and whimsical in every aspect.

"thanks." I blush.

"come show us!" JJ calls from the living room. Emily would be with us, but she said she had to run an errand beforehand. I glance at Penelope once and widen my eyes. why am I so nervous? I'm acting like a child.

"go on, then!" Pen practically shoves me forward and I stumble a bit in my heels before walking out of the hallway and making my grand entrance by the couch. JJ is holding an enormous bowl of popcorn, dressed like Britney Spears. her jaw drops.

"do a spin!" she squeals. I do so, and the red cape flutters around me like the petals of a blooming flower. she sets the bowl down, claps. "I love it!"

"thanks." when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror on her wall, my cheeks are rosy. my hair tumbles over my shoulders and the cut of my dress is a bit low, but the cleavage is actually kind of a good addition. red ribbon falls just to my décolletage, a slight tease.

"we should head out soon, though," JJ checks her phone. "wouldn't want Hotch to leave by the time we arrive."

"is he even coming?" I ask.

"said he would. Pen made quite the case for herself." JJ pops a kernel into her mouth and I look to the tech analyst, who has a mischievous smirk on her candy pink lips. she raises an eyebrow.

"I told him I'd bring candy corn."

"seriously?" I can't keep the surprise out of my voice. didn't realize someone that serious could be plied with the promise of candy.

"yes, now come on." Penny scoops up her purse, which is shaped like a giant pearl, and goes to her cabinet to grab the candy corn. before long, we're out the door, chattering aimlessly on our way to the office.

when we get there, I start to get nervous. although I'm not sure why, I get self-conscious about my dress and hood, about the secret black garter around my thigh. it's my personal secret, something I wore for myself.

there are a few decorations up. some people from around the office are talking, and everyone is dressed to the nines. Garcia opens the door for me and I head straight for Emily's desk, where the rest of the team is gathered. Rossi works his way through a handful of hard candies in his palm. Emily is stunning in her black cat costume.

"hey, you guys." she breaks into a grin when she sees JJ and Pen and me, the rest of the group parting to look at us. my eyes snag on Spencer, with his Frankenstein mask resting on the top of his head so he can talk normally. even Hotch is pleased to see the three of us.

"thanks, Garcia!" he cheers as she hands him the bag of candy corn.

"you know, you're lucky he left the house for that." Rossi raises his eyebrows and points at the unit chief.

"oh, we know." JJ smirks.

"you look great!" Emily gives each of us a hug. she smells like something slightly spicy and warm, a nice scent that makes me want to hold on tighter. I don't know how to explain it; Prentiss has a very calming presence to me. I always find myself hanging around her whenever I need to decompress after cases, even if it just means talking about regular life.

"you do, too!" I grab a handful of caramel corn from the bowl she offers. "it looks pretty nice in here, actually."

"don't sound so surprised. think we couldn't handle a few decorations and snacks?" Rossi questions. it's getting easier to be around him now, honestly. despite my initial hesitance about his seniority, he's never made me feel small for my lack of experience in this specific field.

"she's against the whole holiday." Garcia makes a face as she berates me. Spencer shakes his head like I'm insane.

"that's not true!" I protest. "I never said I was against it, I just don't get why people are so excited about Halloween every year."

"because it's fun." Spencer speaks up. I roll my eyes.

"I'm not convinced."

"well, I'm glad you said so, because I've actually planned a little activity for us!" Garcia is practically bursting with excitement as she says it, like she's been holding it in the whole evening. she probably has.

my stomach twists. to be honest, I had been hoping for a relaxing evening and then an early night. an "activity" sounds like it'll interrupt those plans. but she's so elated that I can't help smiling.

"what is it?" Prentiss feigns wariness.

"well," Garcia simpers in a way that makes me think we're in for an interesting night. "I took the liberty of hiding certain candies around the office last night before we went home."

"hiding them?" JJ repeats with a smirk.

"in little plastic pumpkin cases. they're absolutely adorable, like Easter egg size--"

"you're sending us on an Easter egg hunt?" Rossi looks at her disbelievingly. I let out a nonplussed noise. Penelope is ready to defend herself, however, pointing a finger at him and sounding as firm as she can manage.

"it's going to be cute, dammit. whoever gets the most candies gets a special surprise at the end."

"what's the surprise?" Emily asks.

"it wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, now would it?" Penelope replies.

there's a silence in the circle as we all try to figure out how to react. it's childish, for sure. nobody is arguing that point; but it also sounds kind of not that bad to me.

"oh come on, guys!" she addresses our lack of enthusiasm. "we've had a hard couple of weeks. let's at least try and have some fun."

JJ starts to laugh, putting her arm around the tech analyst's waist while she snuggles into her shoulder.

"if it'll make you happy, Pen."

"it will!" Garcia nods vigorously and turns to us. I catch myself breaking into a smile. there are much worse things than going on a Halloween candy hunt, especially given the usual circumstances of being in the office.

"alright!" I throw up my hands and Emily is next to concede. Spencer has been quiet this whole time, but he straightens up from his usual slouching position and tries to hide the grin spreading over his lips. Rossi and Hotch glance at each other.

"alright." the Italian shrugs.

"what do we have to do, then?" I ask.

"well, there are a bunch of pumpkins hidden all over. you'll know them when you see them." she clasps her hands together. "I'm timing you, too, so you're going to have half an hour."

"wait a second," Emily frowns. "what if some of the other people who aren't in on it find the candies first?"

there's a sound of general assent from all of us. we aren't the only employees here. Penelope doesn't seem bothered by this, however.

"then I guess you'd better move fast." she pulls out her phone and presses a button, and we disperse with a quickness that really does make me feel like a kid again. I never did Easter egg hunts as a child, but this is a welcome distraction. low stakes competition.

I start to wander around, starting at my desk. there's a pumpkin behind my computer monitor, and one in my desk drawer, although that's it for my personal workspace. my feet carry me to other place around the office, my fingers trailing over the tops of cabinets and under desks. Penelope sits in Prentiss' chair with a sucker-- a smug, luminous mermaid as she watches all of us scramble.

"you got Hotch to search for hidden candy. impressive." I pass her on my way to Anderson's desk. she hasn't hidden anything in too private a place, but maybe there's something in his paperclip dish.

"I'm a witch." she wiggles her brows.

"I thought you were a mermaid." I wink. she grabs the hem of my dress and tugs on it.

"just go find your candy, silly."

"is there anything in Hotch's office?" I nod towards the almost intimidating room. her eyes flicker around to see who might be around us. fortunately, everyone is too wrapped up in their current task to even look our way. I look like I'm just wasting time.

"you didn't hear it from me," she whispers. "but yes."

a sparkle of satisfaction burns in my chest.

"love you, Penny." I make my way towards the office. the door is shut and the actual usual inhabitant of it hasn't gone inside, so he must have overlooked the idea that Garcia would hide candy in there. I'm sure they'll be easy finds, too, since she's terrified of crossing any boundaries with him and wouldn't press her luck by touching his things.

I head over to the couch by the door and see a plastic pumpkin resting on the table next to it, nestled between the wall and the surface.

"ha!" I snatch the thing up, then keep poking around. there's another one on the bookshelf. without anywhere else to put them, I put the found objects in the hood of my cape, dropping them in before moving onto the next.

I'm under the desk when I hear the door get pushed open slightly more. my head pops up from the inconspicuous spot and there's Reid, pockets stuffed while he peers around the space.

"hey." I say. he jumps when he sees me kneeling on the floor.

"oh, hi," he frowns. "why are you on the ground?"

I grab the little orange pumpkin package that's tucked against one of the desk legs, then show him smugly. "winning."

"how many do you have?" he pretends to be curious, but I can sense an undercurrent of competitiveness. I stand and shrug. he eyes my costume to see if I have any spots that hint at a candy stash. he doesn't think to check the hood of my cape.

"that's for me to know and you to find out."

Spencer squints briefly. "are you secretly good at this?"

"am I?" I raise my eyebrows. "don't try to profile me, Reid."

"I'm not profiling you!" he lets out one of those rare laughs, the musical sound that lives in his throat. I wish he would laugh more; there's something kind of cute about his face when he does.

"mhmm." I say doubtfully and come to stand in front of him. "let's see it, then."

"see what?"

"what you have so far." I say the words and he immediately places his hands over his pockets.

"no way! you didn't show me yours." he protests quickly. I wrinkle my nose.

"oh come on, Reid." I roll my eyes. "if you show me yours, I'll show you where I keep mine."

he watches me skeptically again. "why?"

"because I think we could be allies."

there's a silence after the suggestion. truthfully, the idea just popped into my head. we could win pretty easily, though, if we coordinate.

"really?" the corners of his lips flicker upwards. he's unsure whether or not he should give in.

"are you kidding? with your smartness and my generally conniving nature, we could really do some damage." I tease. he giggles.

"I've never heard someone describe themselves as conniving."

"call it self-awareness," I smirk. "are you in or not?"

he glances behind him at the bullpen, our friends still searching for the pumpkin packages while Garcia twists a pen between her fingers. when she wants to, she can look intimidating. I raise an eyebrow and wait for Spencer's response. his face turns to mine. those irises are such a pretty shade.

"okay."

"alright, boy genius!" I cheer, then reach up to undo my cape. he looks slightly panicked for a second as I undo the red ribbon, but relaxes when I grab the hood and show him the stash of pumpkins. "see?"

it’s crammed with orange packages.

“that's pretty smart." he admits with an impressed smile.

"right?" I agree. "come on, then. I think I've practically swept this place clean."

he follows me out the door in our search.

...

by the time the thirty minutes are up, Spencer and I have made shocking progress in consolidating our supply. we've decided that if we beat everyone, we'll share the surprise. if it's something we can't split, we'll rock-paper-scissors for victory (two out of three, of course). but I'm not too concerned about it.

when we wander over to Penelope's spot at the desk, we're practically strutting.

"someone's confident." she notes. I take my cape off again and slam the thing down on the surface. Spencer has an amused look on his face.

we ended up spending a lot of time arguing about the best spots to hide candy, though I mostly let him take the lead— in terms of hiding places, he's been here longer and knows more than I do. and, unrelated, but he's pretty funny when he's not busy thinking about a case. his references are a little nerdy, but I kind of enjoy listening to the explanations.

"we kicked ass." I cross my arms over my chest and Spencer nods. everyone around us is suspicious; JJ points between us.

"did you two team up?"

"maybe." I glance at Spencer, who's already looking at me to gauge my reaction to the question.

"that's cheating!" JJ laughs. Spencer shakes his head.

"actually, Garcia never laid out any formal rules for the game."

"mhmm!" I nod in agreement, grateful to have him there with his factual authority. JJ sighs, but nobody can stay mad at Spencer. we share a grin before Emily eyes the separate piles on the desk.

Garcia went out of her way to hide a lot of treats. that said, it's clear that the combined amount from Reid and me beats out everyone else's. we high five once she announces us the official winners.

"what's our prize?" Spencer asks as everyone lightheartedly boo's our victory.

"a gift card to that new fried chicken place that we ordered from a while ago." Garcia presents a shiny plastic card to me. it's a great treat, honestly, becuase I'm hungry and takeout is one of my favorite things in the world.

the team congratulates us on our win and things start to wind down. Hotch makes an excuse to get home and Rossi muses about a pack of cigars that await him. I feel the energy in the office start to dissipate, but now I feel like I'm on a bit of a victory high. I got all dressed up and now everyone wants to leave? disappointing.

as Prentiss and JJ shrug on their coats, I run my fingertip over the edge of the gift card. Spencer is packing some extra books into his bag. he told me to keep the gift card and that it wasn't a big deal, but I don't feel right not sharing. especially not when we didn’t rock-paper-scissors for it.

"Reid." I walk over to his spot, lean against the desk. he glances up in surprise.

"yeah?"

"do you wanna share this with me?" I wave the reward in the air. his brows draw together for a fraction of a second. he seems confused.

"right now?"

"sure, why not?" I gesture to the bullpen, which is emptying quickly. "it's not even that late."

he checks his watch as if to confirm my assertion, then stuffs his slim wrists into his pockets and stares at me for a second. I start to get the sense he’s going to say no, and something in me sinks. his tongue darts out over his bottom lip. he's got his mouth open a lot. "y-yeah, that sounds fun."

I nod at the good news. "okay, cool. I'm too lazy to actually drive there, so I'll just order delivery?"

"okay." he gives me a small smile while I pull out my phone to call the place. I'm a little bit glad that it's just us.

...

"try it." I pop the plastic cover off the sauce cup before setting it next to him.

"that looks gross." Spencer shakes his head quickly through a mouthful of food. my jaw drops and I snatch the sauce right back, dipping the chicken into it and taking a hefty bite.

"it's literally the perfect combination of salty and smooth." I protest. Reid looks dubious, however, and leans his head back against the side of the desk. we started the evening in the swivel chairs, but we're both fidgety at heart and now we're on the floor.

he takes a swig of his drink. "I never knew lemonade could taste so good."

"same." I laugh. "can I have your sauce thing, then?"

he responds by dismissively pushing the thing over to me. we're sitting side-by-side, and somehow I think that's easier for him. we don't have to look each other in the eyes as we talk.

"I'm proud of us." I announce. Spencer snorts.

"why?"

"we found so much candy! which we can now eat for dessert." I reach up to grab my cape off my desk, and the hood thuds to the ground.

"we're a good team." he says it lightheartedly. Spencer is right, though; we work really well together on cases. it makes sense that it would translate into candy hunts. he's way smarter than I am, but it functions well.

"we should do the Amazing Race."

"I don't think either of us would like that." he takes a bite of his fry and I finish up the last of my chicken.

"you wanna hear a secret?" my head turns to his.

"what?" he reciprocates. his features appear especially delicate right now, almost suspended. I can see a darkness in his lids that contradicts the youth of his mien. I'm so close, I could kiss his nose if I wanted to. I don't, but I could.

"aside from the team aspect, I don't really know what the Amazing Race is." I giggle. Spencer breaks into a laugh and turns away again, filling the office with the sound. I blush.

"then why did you bring it up?" his voice gets slightly high-pitched when he tries to speak through it.

"I don't know, I feel like people say that all the time."

"nobody has ever asked me to be in the Amazing Race with them." Spencer is still giggling when he looks over at me. I bite my lip before asking the thing that plagues me.

"so, what is it?"

"the Amazing Race?"

"no, Newton's Laws." I deadpan. "yes, the Amazing Race."

he throws his hands up and I chuckle. he straightens.

"it's a reality game show where they race to travel the world."

"that's it? no stats for me, genius boy?" I gesture for him to elaborate. Spencer shrugs.

"I don't really care about reality shows."

"you don't--" I blink exaggeratedly, as if the fact is shocking. "you don't care about reality shows?"

"we get enough reality here as it is."

"oh, Spence...." I sigh. "there are few things faker than reality tv."

"why do you like them?" he's genuinely curious. I see the glimmer of the Work Spencer with which I've become familiar. always trying to get under the surface, digging for answers even when they don't seem immediately relevant.

"I like to turn my brain off sometimes, you know?" I close the lid of my food and take a drink of my lemonade while I wait for him to respond. although he doesn't look at me as he nods, I can tell he understands what I mean. if anything, he knows the feeling better than I do.

"yeah, I get that."

"everyone just acts really stupid and they care way too much about things that usually, like, don't even matter. it's sort of comforting in a weird, depressing, god-I'm-glad-that's-not-me way."

"that's interesting," he peeks over at me for just a second. "you know, there's actually been studies done that show people with higher annual incomes suffer from higher levels of depression and anxiety."

"I believe it." I make a noncommittal sound and reach into the hood of my cape to grab a piece of candy. with the movement, I shift and the hem of my dress lifts enough to expose the garter on my thigh, and the object tucked within it. Reid's eyes pass briefly over me, but he does a double-take when he sees the thing.

"is that--?" he points at my leg. I hitch up the garment a little so I can remove the knife that's been pressed to my thigh the whole evening.

"a weapon? yeah, technically." I chuckle. Spencer's jaw drops in disbelief. even as I hold it in my hands, he seems afraid to touch it.

it's not really a weapon. I got it from one of my friends as a gift a while ago, a lovely little resin dagger that's filled with red flower petals and gold flakes. it glints under the office lights.

"you're really not supposed to have that in here." he gulps, glances up at the corners of the room, where I'm sure security cameras are mounted. I hand it to him, pressing the blade into his palm.

"then stop looking at all the cameras so suspiciously." I scoff. he turns a bit to look at the thing, tilts the edges under the glow to examine it with a strange expression. his long, elegant fingers move over the handle.

"where did you get this?"

"it was a present. it's not dangerous." I shrug. the edges are pretty dull; it's more of a decorative piece. I would equate its actual risk level to that of a particularly pointy pen.

"why did you bring it?" he hands it to me gingerly, our hands touching briefly before I slide it back into the garter on my thigh. his eyes follow my movements, and something in my stomach flips unexpectedly.

"I collect them."

"knives?" he doesn't seem taken aback, only interested, judging by the way he frowns quizzically. I nod and face him.

"yeah. I started as a kid, but I have a whole variety of them-- antique, new, ornate, plain-- I love 'em all." I explain enthusiastically. Spencer opens his mouth and I realize that he must have a million questions. he always has a million questions.

"why knives?"

I pull my mouth to the side of my face. it's not like there's some deep, dark reason behind my predilection for collecting sharp objects. and I’ve tried to answer that question myself, always coming up empty. some things people just... like. "I don't know."

like I've put a damper over the conversation.

"o-oh." Spencer's eyes drop into his lap, where he's been fidgeting with his hands for the past couple minutes. he thinks I'm withholding, that he's crossed some sort of line. my heart sinks.

"I'm serious, Reid-- I don't know." I laugh it off. "I just think they're cool the same way that you think math is cool."

"math is cool." he looks up for a second to smile. I nudge his shoulder with mine. his slight frame means he almost tips over and I laugh.

"hard disagree, but sure."

Spencer stretches his legs out before him, and I'm reminded of how tall he is. he's prone to slouching, so it's easy to forget that his body is actually pretty lengthy. when he taps his Converse together absently, I notice the different colors of his socks. one has watermelon slices and the other has the Road Runner on them.

"I like your mask, by the way." I compliment.

"oh, you mean this?" he tugs the thing down over his face. it's gruesome, really, tinged green with baggy skin below the eye holes. I make a disgusted face and push his shoulder away from me.

"ew!"

"something wrong?" he uses a funny monster voice when he says it, wiggling his fingers playfully. I cackle. he’s never done that.

"god, that thing is ugly."

Spencer removes the mask again, a ghost of a grin on his face. for all of his shyness, he's enjoying himself right now.

we sit there in silence for a bit, cracking open the plastic pumpkin packages that Garcia has stuffed with all sorts of candy. we trade jelly beans like currency, blue raspberry for orange and anything remotely citrus-flavored that he loves. he doesn't mind taking them from my open palm, which fills me with a strangely warm feeling.

I realize that there's more to Spencer's anxiety than germs, a thin layer of something that he lays between each person and himself. we don't talk about weighty subjects; we aren't friends like that-- not yet, anyway. but I'm glad that he feels alright with this kind of proximity.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #best friends to lovers #fanfic

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floatingpetals · 5 years ago

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Call Of The Mountains || Ch. 1

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes (Werewolf AU!)

Warnings: Nothin

Word Count: 1700+

Summary: (Werewolf-AU!Stucky x f!reader) Life had begun to overwhelm her. Work was insane and her life was a mess. There was a tug in her soul that called her to take this trip, deep into the forest away, where there was the peace and stillness of nature. She didn’t know why, but she knew she needed to listen. It was meant to be a relaxing trip, but one misstep on some moss sent her tumbling into the rapids of the flooded river. She thought she was gone and the earth decided it was time to reclaim her. She didn’t expect was to be pulled from the river nor the creature that saved her. Her entire world is turned upside down and all it took was an accidental step to the left. (18+ Only Story)

A/N: Aight, so this is one I’ve been wanting to write for a while but made myself wait until I got a few stories done. Now that’s done, I can write this! It’s gonna get spicier in later chapters, and I’m exccciittteeeed! I hope you all enjoy this new story and the wonders it’s gonna contain! Let me know what you think! Enjoy! ❤

The gifs are not mine, credit to the owner.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Series Masterlist

This wasn’t a really bright idea. She knew it. However, that didn’t stop her from packing up her car with a tent, duffle bag filled with essentials and enough food for a week or so in a bear-proof cooler. She needed a break. Things had gotten crazy at work and life was stressing her out to where she was nearing her breaking point. If she didn’t take this vacation, she’d lose her ever-loving mind.

Fortunately, her boss understood and gave her the time off she wanted. The very next day, Y/N packed her car up, let her friends know she was going to be gone without cell reception for a week or so and drove off towards the mountains and forest. There was a campsite she and her family had been to a few times before; they were more outdoorsy than her, but something was calling to her. A little voice inside of her was craving to be surrounded by nature and away from society, tugging her towards the distant mountains. She needed to unplug and unwind. And so far, the little voice hadn’t steered her wrong.

The drive was long, but it helped her being to decompress and leave the stress behind her. The closer she drove, the thicker and taller the trees began to grow. Eventually, she reached the exit her mother wrote on a sticky note. Very quickly Y/N felt a peace wash over her as she took the quiet country road towards her destination.

She checked her location on her phone and noted her service was at one bar and kept dropping, not that she minded. She was about half an hour from the turn into the reserve and still had a few hours left of daylight. Good, she’d be able to pitch the tent and get a quick dinner started before the sun began to set. Maybe she could go for a quick dip in the river nearby. It had a lovely waterfall that flowed from a spring somewhere along the mountain. It was the perfect place for her to unwind.

Half an hour later, a smile spread across Y/N’s face when she spotted the sign and entrance. The ranger at the booth at the reserve's entrance was happy to help point her in the right direction, chatting with her for a moment and explaining how things worked. She was one of the few campers there, and while she might run into one or two if she went out hiking, the campsite she requested was far enough away she didn’t have to worry about seeing people all the time. Just what she wanted. He did, however, warn her that due to a large amount of rain they were getting, the rapids in the river were quite high and fast in the area and to make sure she kept an eye on where she stepped on the soft ground beside it.

Following the directions the ranger gave, Y/N drove further into the reserve and was unable to keep herself from admiring the green around her. Living in the city meant she got very little to none of this. True there were trees here and there, but nothing like this. Parking her car in the marked spot beside the site, Y/N stepped out and took in a deep breath of the clean crisp air. No loud sirens or shouting filled in air, or the smog and dingy stale air from the city. All she heard was the sound of the trees swaying in the breeze and the happy chirps of the many birds in the canopies. The weather was supposed to be sunny and relatively cool, with a slight chance of clouds later in the week. The perfect weather for camping in the perfect setting. Yep, she thought, this was what I needed.

The unpacking took her a little longer than she thought. The tent was new, one of the dome ones big enough to fit six people. Her father bought it on sale, something about it being almost 70% off and he just had to get it. The tent was comically large for Y/N, both in height and width, but she wasn’t going to complain. She didn’t want to go out and spend an inordinate about of money for one camping trip. There’s no telling when the next time she’d get a chance to do this again. Her father was also the one that gifted her with the cooler, which he reminded her to keep in the car locked up tight at night as well as a few lanterns, a swiss army knife, plenty of matches and lighters, a few jugs of water, a camping GPS tracker, and the fishing poles Y/N doubted she’d use. But considering she had no idea what she was going to do while here, Y/N didn’t argue. Her mom wasn’t so sure about this, going out alone into the woods, but Y/N just needed to do it. That tug kept growing inside of her and the only way to make it stop was to answer the call.

The rest of the afternoon went smoothly. After the slight struggle figuring the tent out, Y/N made a quick dinner with her packed food and started getting her things ready for sleep later that night. But first, Y/N wanted to go find the waterfall with the scenic pond that turned fed the river. Going off what the ranger said, Y/N assumed the waterfall would be much larger than the last time she’d been. She had plans to go back in the morning but didn’t want to wander around trying to find it.

So lacing up her hiking boots, she snagged a flashlight in case it got darker sooner than anticipated and followed the little marked trail that led her through the woods. The trail was familiar. She hadn’t been here in a few years, and normally her parents would camp further down the river, but once she found the main trail that followed closely alongside the riverbank, Y/N knew where she was. She paused at the sight of the much higher waters, the usually calm waters roaring with life. The ranger wasn’t joking about the current. It looked like it could drag a person under and downstream before anyone had a chance to blink.

Keeping a close to the trail along the forest, away from the soft edge, Y/N walked against the stream of the river and towards where the waterfall should be. Usually, when she was alone with her thoughts, Y/N would find herself full of anxiety, constantly thinking over everything and anything that could go wrong in her busy life. She hated how her mind fought with itself, constant warring with her about this and that. Trivial meaningless things she’d have little to no control over. Yet right now, with her breathing calm and her footsteps unusually light, there wasn’t a single anxious thought insight. The forest seemed to soothe her as if a spell was cast when she stepped foot on the land.

As she began to turn a corner, Y/N heard the waterfall first. It was roaring, echoing off the mountain beside it and the rocks and trees surrounding it. She felt a little flutter of excitement as she turned the corner and gasped. What was usually gentle and slight, the waterfall was twice its size. It caused a cooling mist to form at the bottom, shrouding the little clearing. Where the water pooled was twice in size as well. She spotted the top of a rock she would usually settle on beside it nearly submerged five feet from where the water line began. Fortunately, there were still plenty of places to sit and read around the area, the waterfall loud but not overly so. It was just enough to keep her thoughts at bay in case they crept back in sometime later in the week.

As she stood there staring in awe about how quickly nature can turn from mellow and serene into an impressively dangerous beast, a strange feeling took over. At first, she couldn’t quite place it. It sort of felt like someone was watching her. Frowning, Y/N turned from the waterfall, eyeing the surrounding forest across the water.

The sun had begun to set, leaving shadows to grow under the trees. With the added combination of the mist, Y/N couldn’t make out the other side very well. But the feeling was still there, growing heavier as whatever it was watched on. It wasn’t angry or even annoyed. No, it didn’t make the hairs on the back of her neck raise. Instead, it was almost curious, watching and waiting to see what she’d do next. It made Y/N want to see who it might be, so she chanced a step towards the water. Her eyes followed the waterline, looking and searching.

A shadow moved out of the corner of her eye. It made her jump, her attention snapping towards the spot. She couldn’t have been certain, but she swore she saw a large shape through the trees. Squinting, Y/N tried to make out what it was. But a bird cried loudly behind her, startlingly loud. It caused her to jerk and jump away from the edge of the water, surprised at how close she had gotten without realizing it. She glared at the smug-looking bird that sat on a low branch staring everywhere but at her and turned back to the shoreline on the opposite side. However, the feeling and whatever ever was there was gone.

Letting out a sigh, Y/N deiced that was enough excitement for the night. She shot once more look over her shoulder before heading back towards the way she came. Shaking the strange feeling off, Y/N decided not to dwell on it. It was the first day, there was no point in worrying about something she may or may not have seen. It was just a trick of the light, she tried to reason. Either that it was another hiker who happened across the same spot as her. Yeah, she thought, that was it.

The forest was a mysterious thing. It had its secrets, both good and bad. More often than not, the visitors that would come through never saw the magic that it was made of. There were a lucky few that would see the enchanting wonders it held, whether they stumbled across it or the magic was brought to them. Then, there were the unlucky ones who could see how unforgiving mother earth could be. The trails could lead her down many different paths. It was up to her to determine which direction she would end up taking and what the Earth had decided.

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thorne93 · 5 years ago

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Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 22)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 1023

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy, @carryonmyswansong, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next two days weren’t easy, but they were a lot easier than what you expected. Each day, Spence got up and he went to work. Except for Emily, no one else knew you were back and you two agreed to keep it that way. You wanted some time to yourself to decompress.

You spent the first day completely cleaning, making the house spotless. Of course, you called Dexter and talked to him briefly, telling him he could breathe easy. He thanked you and tried to reassure you again, but you told him you still weren’t sure if Spence was totally on board with being married still. He hadn’t said it, but the fact that he barely looked at you was reason enough to worry. You told him to give your love to Rita and the kids, say hi to Deb, and you’d talk to him again.

You made dinner and Spence ate it happily, but he ate it at the kitchen island, rather than the table where you sat. This crushed you, but you had to just keep reminding yourself that he needed time, that this was better than a jail cell.

You crawled into bed that night, your heart breaking at the coldness, the isolation, the unfamiliarity of the guest room. You laid there, silence surrounding you for hours. You tried to sleep, but it never came. How could it? Just because the threat of imprisonment was gone, that’s not what you worried about, that’s never what bothered you the most.

All you wanted now was your husband back, but you knew that might be a while, a good while.

You weren’t sure what time it was, but the door to the guest room clicked open and you laid still, wondering what Spencer was up to. Even for a flicker of moments, you slightly worried he was here to kill you. It might’ve been irrational, but maybe he couldn’t cope with his wife being a serial killer and instead of watching you go through trials and prison, he’d just end it.

After a second of silence though, you felt the covers lift and he crawled into bed behind you, placing a hand on your hip, kissing your bare shoulder exposed by a tank top.

You rolled over to face him.

“You’re awake?” he questioned, slightly confused.

“Can’t sleep.”

“Me either.”

“I haven’t been able to sleep since you found out,” you confessed.

“Even though I’m not turning you in?” he wondered, peering at you.

“That’s never what I worried about, not really,” you informed, tears escaping quietly. “I was worried you’d leave me. If you felt you had to turn me in as an agent, I would understand that. But… leaving me, that was something I wouldn't have been prepared for. I knew it was a possibility, I knew you might not accept me, what I’d done, but that doesn’t mean I was ready for it -- for this. Sleeping apart, wondering if you still love me, if you still want me, if you can be around me--”

He held up his hand to your face, thumbing away a tear. He smiled at you. “Y/N, I’ll always love you. I still love you. That hasn’t changed. Of course I want you. I just… needed some time.”

You nodded. “I know. I don’t expect you to welcome me with open arms, but we’ve barely talked, and we aren’t sleeping together and… and it’s killing me,” you admitted, tears still flowing heavily.

“I know, me too.” He slowly leaned forward and gave you a small kiss on the lips, making you feel utterly alive for the first time in weeks. “I love you, and I want to make this work.”

“I do too. In any way I can, just tell me what I can do.”

Spence looked down. “For starters, you could come to me first, if you get those urges again.”

You nodded fervently. “I can do that.”

“And no more lying. Even if you break and you go off and kill on your own before telling me, just… let me know. I want to know. I want to be the one you come with when you’re facing this.”

You pressed your lips together in a line. “It’s not a compulsion, Spence. I don’t need to do it. I want to do it. I won’t have any problem stopping for you, if that’s what you really want.”

He paused for a moment, not saying anything as you could see the wheels turn in his head. “It’s not so much my matter of opinion. Whether I support your… vigilante justice or not, isn’t what I’m worried about. I’ve been to prison, wrongly. I don’t want to see you get caught for this. I don’t want to see you go through what I did. I just really need you to stop for your safety, and our happiness. I don’t want to spend our married life visiting you in jail.”

You nodded, your lips turning up slightly in understanding. “I know. I understand that.”

He slowly leaned forward and kissed you softly, his lips lingering on yours, and it felt like heaven.

“I think… that if we’re going to get back to what we were, to get back to normal, we need to do just that.”

“You mean like pretend everything is normal?” you questioned, slightly confused.

“No, not pretend. I’ve accepted what you’ve done and forgiven you. I mean truly go back to normal. You sleep in our bed, we go back to work together, we eat dinner together… Unless, for some reason you want to take things slower.”

You shook your head rather animatedly. “I’d like nothing more, honestly. If we could just get back to where we were before all this, I’d be happy.”

“Then, I think that’s what we should do,” he said with a smile. “Let’s start with getting you in the right bed.”

You nodded as the two of you got up and Spencer offered you his hand. You took it more than happily and he led you back to your bedroom. The rightful place where you should be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#inside the criminal mind #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #dexter morgan #dexter #dexter fic

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abundanceofsoph · 4 years ago

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SkyFire 1: Chapter 20

On the Road Again & Art Galleries

Word count: 2.6k

SkyFire 1 MASTERLIST

>Instagram posts

The first half of 2015 flew by. Aurora was flat out not only with her course work at Columbia, but she also managed to secure a small gallery space and was spending every spare moment painting, in an attempt to finish the series, she intended to show at the end of May. Harry and the boys started the On the Road Again tour in February with their shows in Australia, and with Zayn shocking them all by leaving the band in March, he was also feeling the stress of the first few months of the year. Following a show in Dubai at the start of April, the band took a two month break to write their next album and in the wake of Zayn’s departure, the boys made the decision to stick together during the writing process and flew to New York to write with Aurora. All four of the guys moved into their own floor of the tower and spent most of their days set up in Aurora’s recording studio, writing and recording demos to send to their team. The time off for the group was much needed and they enjoyed being able to kick back and relax with Aurora’s family while working on the album, something they had not had the opportunity to do for their previous albums given that they had all been written and recorded while on the road for touring. Aurora tried to split her time well between her obligations, setting aside enough time to study, paint for her upcoming gallery show and also working on the writing process with the guys. Harry also enjoyed being able to split his time while staying in the tower; he and the boys would all join Steve in the gym every morning and eating dinner with the entire team every evening. Harry felt comfortable in the tower and after more than a year together, he considered Rori’s home as his own, just as he hoped she felt comfortable in his and he would often roam the common floor while the band took a break, spending time with various members of the Avengers team. While the boys would usually turn in from bed around 11pm every night, Harry would have to pull his girlfriend from her art studio well after midnight every night, forcing her to get some sleep. Finally, a busy month and a half, Aurora sat her final exam for the school year and her paintings were completed and ready for the opening of her show.

Harry met her at the gallery space in the afternoon, the day before the opening night, watching on as she instructed staff as to where each of the 18 pieces should hang and he felt so incredibly proud of her. She’d worked so hard on each painting and to see them all hung together allowed him to finally see the theme she had running through the entire series that she had been explaining to him for the last few weeks.

“It’s going to be a hit,” he told her once the last canvas was hanging in its place. “Everyone is going to love it.”

“I hope you're right,” she said. “I just want people see what I’m trying to do here and not just think I’m trying to capitalize on the family.”

xXx

The Gallery show opened 3 days later and Aurora felt an immense sense of pride in her work as she watched people walk around, taking in her paintings. Her dads were both walking through the crowd, talking with guests about how great the paintings were, as were the Harry’s 3 bandmates. Aurora was feeling incredibly grateful for how supportive her friends and family were and she felt herself getting quite emotional. Harry, who was standing next to her, noticed her starting to sniffle and placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her to look at him.

“You ok?” he asked, looking her in the eye.

“Just a little overwhelmed by the response,” Rori replied, taking a deep breath to calm her emotions. “It doesn’t feel real.”

“You deserve all of this love,” Harry told her, hugging her tight against him, her cheek cushioned against his chest as they both watched the guests wander around the space, taking in the art on the wall. “You’re incredible,” he whispered.

Aurora looked across the gallery, taking in the 18 canvases on the exposed brick walls. Each work was made up of a pair a canvases, hanging next to each other with a metre gap between each pair and the next. The first pair was made up of a painting of the Iron Man armour and on it’s matching canvas there was a painting of her father cooking pasta in the kitchen. The next pair of canvases similarly showed the two apposing sides of her Pops, with one painting depicting Captain America in his full uniform, while the other showed Steve standing by an easel, paint splatted on his white undershirt and a soft smile on his face. The rest of the series continued along the same theme, showing each member of the Avengers team as the superhero the world new and the family member that Aurora loved; Clint was laughing as he threw balls of paper at the back of Sam’s head, Bruce was mid-yoga pose, Nat was dancing, Thor was playing video games, Sam was laying on his bed listening to music with his headphones on, and Bucky was reading a book.

The last pair of canvases showed the team assembled together on the left, as if preparing for battle and on the right, they were all collapsed on sofas, bean bags and recliners, staring off at an unseen flat screen tv out of frame. The overall effect of the series was clear, or so Aurora hoped. No person was one thing; identity was multifaceted and complicated and different people saw different aspects of everyone’s identity. Aurora hoped that the collection would encourage people to view those around them as multifaceted individuals with hopes and dreams and families and insecurities. Since becoming a public figure 3 years ago this was something that had plagued Aurora’s mind; to so many people on the internet she was the one thing they believed her to be. For some that was a privileged white girl, for others she was just a song writer, while others saw her merely as the girlfriend of Harry Styles or the daughter of Tony Stark. In truth she was all of those things, but she was also a normal girl, who grew up in a tiny apartment above a London pub, she was the product of a single mother who worked every day of her life to give her daughter the best life she could, and she was also so much more. That was the message she hoped this show would portray, the mark she hoped to leave on those who came to view her work, to imagine people complexly.

xXx

Following the second week of Aurora’s art show, she flew out with the boys for Cardiff, Wales for the start of the next leg of their tour on the 5th of June. The day of the first show, Aurora was sitting in the green room, waiting for the boys to come back from one of their many media obligations. She was drawing while she waited, periodically picking up her phone to see if any other critics had reviewed her show. It felt weird for her to not be there for the final two weeks, but she wanted to be there with Harry. She’d spent months looking forward to her chance to spend the summer with him and the boys and she knew she’d made the right choice to come on tour now given everything that had happened at the end of their last set of shows. Her art was in safe hands and she trusted Pepper to coordinate its safe return to the tower after the show came to an end, so she decided to put it aside in her head and focus her attention on being there on tour and present in the moment.

When the boys returned to the green room, she was struck again by how weird it was for there only to be the four of them now and she frowned. The entire time she had known Harry it had been him and the four boys, but now for Zayn to be gone, she still didn’t quite understand. She remembered when Harry had called her from the road, the night that Zayn had walked out on them. He’d been in tears and her heart had broken as she stayed on the phone with him for hours, promising that it would be ok. That no matter what happened with the band, that she would be there, and he would be ok. They had talked about restructuring songs, splitting up Zayn’s parts between the four of them and after they’d hung up, she had cried. While she and Zayn had not been best friends like she was with Louis, and they hadn’t gotten along quite as easily as she did with Liam or Niall, she had still grown to think of him as her brother, as she had with all of them. He was always quieter than the others and sometimes when the chaos of the tour had become just a little too much, the two of them would hide away somewhere quiet to relax and decompress. She’d tried to call him a few days after he’d left, but he’d ignored her call, probably assuming that she would have sided with Harry, like a child having to pick which parent to live with after the divorce. In truth she’d just wanted to make sure her friend was ok. It had been months now and she still hadn’t heard from him. She’d sent texts and twitter dm’s, trying to explain that she just wanted to talk and that she missed him, but it had all gone unanswered. The only contact any of them had had with him since March had been when Louis had argued with him on twitter in April. All of this was running through her head as the boys piled into the green room, flopping down on sofas and attempting to relax before they were needed on stage in a little over an hour. Harry placed a kiss on her cheek as he walked past her towards where Lou was waiting to fix his hair for the show.

“You look like something’s bothering you,” Liam said, sitting down beside her and casually throwing an arm across the back of the sofa she was curled up on.

“I’m good,” Rori replied with a small smile.

“No, you’re not,” Liam pressed, his eyes flicking around the room to make sure no one was listening to their conversation. “Talk to me.”

“Just feels weird, doesn’t it?” Rori whispered, her eyes also glancing to the others, not wanting to upset anyone. “I still don’t really understand what happened and it just doesn’t really feel right that he’s not here.”

“Yeah,” Liam sighed. “It feels wrong, but we’ve got to keep moving. We might never really know why he did it, but we’ve just got to work with what we’ve got now and try to make it work.”

“I’m sorry I brought it up,” Rori said, noticing Liam’s eyes were now a little misty with unshed tears.

“It’s ok Rori,” Liam replied, smiling softly as he wrapped his arms around her. “We’ve got to be able to lean on each other, right?”

“Oi!” Harry yelled with a laugh. “Get your mitts off my girl.”

“Sharing is caring,” Rori joked, laughing loudly when Harry pulled her to her feet and out of Liam’s arms. “Rude!” she giggled, kissing his cheek. She looked back at Liam, glad to see that Harry’s joke had broken the sombre mood they had slipped into, even if he didn’t know that’s what he’d done.

xXx

Despite missing a member, the tour was a success, continuing on much like the previous one had and after the first few shows, Aurora found that it felt just like old times. They travelled across Europe and along the west coast and into Canada, recording and finalising the new album. Aurora even recorded the piano track for If I Could Fly, a song that she had written with Harry late one night when they’d stayed up in the studio after the others had turned in for the night.

Something she often did with tracks she wrote for other artists was to record her own version and a few months after they released their track, she would release her version on her YouTube channel; a series she called The Demo Tapes. She had writing credit on almost every track on the new album, but after talking about it with the boys, they had decided that If I Could Fly, should be the track for her to record given that it was so personal to both her and Harry, so one afternoon in late August the two had set themselves up with the bands producers to record a duet of the song, filming the recording process to use for the music video in addition to the footage Aurora already had of playing the song on her grand piano back in New York. Singing with Harry was always one of her favourite things and being able to sing their song together filled her heart with so much love for the curly haired man standing on the other side of the microphone, his headphones pushing his long curls back from his face.

“What do you say we give the whole thing one last run through love? From the top?” Harry asked her once they were told they had everything. “One just for us?”

She returned his smile, adjusting her headphones. “Let’s do it,” she said, clearing her throat before the familiar sound of her keys filled their ears.

[Harry – Aurora – both]

If I could fly I'd be coming right back home to you I think I might give up everything, just ask me to Pay attention, I hope that you listen Cause I let my guard down Right now I'm completely defenceless For your eyes only, I show you my heart For when you're lonely and forget who you are I'm missing half of me when we're apart Now you know me, for your eyes only For your eyes only I've got scars, even though they can't always be seen And pain gets hard, but now you're here and I don't feel a thing Pay attention, I hope that you listen cause I let my guard down Right now I'm completely defenceless For your eyes only, I show you my heart For when you're lonely and forget who you are I'm missing half of me when we're apart Now you know me, for your eyes only For your eyes only I can feel your heart inside of mine (I feel it, I feel it) I've been going out of my mind (I feel it, I feel it) Know that I'm just wasting time And I Hope that you don't run from me For your eyes only, I show you my heart For when you're lonely And forget who you are I'm missing half of me When we're apart Now you know me, for your eyes only For your eyes only, I show you my heart For when you're lonely and forget who you are I'm missing half of me when we're apart Now you know me, for your eyes only For your eyes only For your eyes only

As the final notes faded out, Harry stepped around the microphone and swept Aurora into his arms, kissing her deeply as they both forgot about everyone else in the room, or the camera set up on the tripod to record the process.

NEXT CHAPTER

OR CONTINUE READING ON AO3

#skyfire #skyfire fic #aurora stark #dad!tony #iron dad #step dad steve rogers #stony #stony fic #boyfriend harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #superfamily #harry styles #tony stark

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 6 years ago

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Vigilante

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Request: Steve reacts to his girlfriend getting violently mugged.

Word Count: 3,200 - One Shot

Once again, special thanks to @kquel12 and @alexabarnes for letting me pick their brain.

Bucky and Steve walked side-by-side off the quinjet.

The team had just gotten back from a grueling mission and they had a few important meetings in the city this week. So they decided to stay at the old tower instead of returning to the compound upstate.

They mostly used it as their own hotel. There wasn’t much left there since Tony had Happy clean everything out. But there were enough guest rooms for all the Avengers to sleep there comfortably.

“Y/N gonna come by?” Bucky asked his best friend.

He tried not to laugh at how Steve lit up from someone simply saying her name.

“Yeah, she just texted me saying she’d be over here in a bit.”

Bucky nodded, hiding his smirk. “When you two gonna stop playing around and just move in together? This long distance stuff has to be getting annoying.”

Y/N lived on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Steve was luckily able to visit more frequently than someone who had a normal 9-to-5 job. But Manhattan was still a couple hour drive from the compound. Even less when Steve was able to “borrow” a helicopter or quinjet.

“Kind of a big step,” Steve answered evenly.

Bucky chuckled, “Please, you’re hopelessly in love, punk. You’d go to the courthouse with Y/N tonight and get married if that’s what Y/N wanted.”

Steve finally looked at his friend and his face dropped. “I don’t want to push her too hard, too quickly.”

Bucky shook his head at the ridiculousness. “If you don’t realize that girl loves you just as much, than you’re a bigger idiot than I ever realized.”

Steve had the audacity to blush and look at the ground as he shifted his weight.

“I’m gonna jump in the shower before Y/N gets here,” he finally managed to say before walking away without giving Bucky a chance to say any more.

———

Steve walked into the kitchen, hair still damp from his shower, and found a few members of the team eating whatever food they could in the fridge. They were talking amongst themselves loudly. It was their way of decompressing after missions.

“I ordered a pizza. Fridge hasn’t been filled in awhile,” Tony announced to the group as he too walked in.

“Captain Rogers,” FRIDAY interrupted the fun and familial atmosphere.

Despite being an AI, there was evident worry in her voice. “You’re needed at the lobby elevators immediately. Y/N is on her way up right now.”

Steve tensed and his heart instantly started racing. He quickly went to the elevators that the system spoke of, “FRIDAY, what’s happened?”

He ignored the sound of the team following closely behind him.

“I’m-I’m not sure, Captain Rogers,” FRIDAY admitted, sounding more human than usual.

When the elevators opened, Steve was met with Y/N leaning her weight on the security guard that Steve recognized from the first floor entrance.

Y/N held a tissue to her nose, but Steve could still see that half of it was already stained bright red with blood. There were tried tears soaking her cheek, black smudge was left behind from the mascara and eyeliner they took with them.

Steve rushed forward after barely a second passed of him taking in the sight and gasped, “Jesus Christ! Y/N!”

He took her weakened body out of the grasp of the security guard, but somehow still managed to give him a thankful look.

“I just wanted to make sure she got up here okay,” the security guard said carefully before backing up into the elevator again.

Steve grasped her face, pushing hair out of her face so he could look into her eyes without any obstruction. “Y/N, what happened?”

“Ummm…I got mugged,” Y/N mumbled. She tried to act like it was no big deal. Like it was something that happened all the time.

Hell, she was at the Avengers Tower. This was nothing than what they’d all survived.

Y/N’s entire body was shaking. And Steve had never heard her voice so quiet and meek. It broke his heart.

“FRIDAY, alert the police,” Tony called out behind them. Then he and Natasha slowly walked toward Y/N.

For some reason, Steve felt the need to hold her closer to his body as they approached. He pulled her frame securely to his muscular chest.

“They have your phone?” Nat asked Y/N softly.

She nodded.

“Your debit and credit cards?” She nodded again.

“FRIDAY track the spending of Y/N’s cards. And connect to Y/N’s cellphone.” Tony added to his system.

“They probably already t-turned o-off my phone,” Y/N stuttered quietly.

“As if that’ll save ‘em. Don’t insult my abilities, Y/N,” the AI tried to joke.

Tony smirked.

The group started talking amongst themselves hurriedly, making a plan on how to handle the situation. Everyone was very calm and collected. It gave Steve a moment somewhat alone with his girlfriend.

“You okay?” He whispered.

Steve knew not to baby her. Because when he was the little guy, that’s what he hated the most. She’s just been assaulted, violated. The last thing she wanted was to continue to be treated less than a full-fledged and independent adult.

Her eyes flickered around at their audience.

Steve realized she was trying to keep it together for their sakes. She didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of his teammates.

“Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up,” he told her softly, starting to guide her to his guest bedroom.

But when they took a step, Y/N limped and hissed, stumbling slightly. “Sorry,” she muttered with shame.

She’d twisted her ankle as she’d tried to run after her assailants.

Steve gave her a look of anguish. But, without hesitating, he scooped her up in his arms and hurried out of the room before anyone else could watch her any longer.

Once he got to his bedroom, he carefully placed Y/N onto the toilet seat. There was an extensive first aid kit under every bathroom sink at the tower. He shuffled around until he found it and pulled it onto the counter.

He grabbed a new tissue and placed it under her nose. “Lean forward and hold that for me. Don’t lean your head back,” he instructed softly.

Y/N did as she was told.

“Can you tell me what happened? Bit by bit?” He asked her gently.

She was quiet for a moment. Whether it was to remember every detail or to give herself the strength to tell it, he didn’t know.

“I-I was taking the subway here. The car was empty. Then these two guys got on. Th-They tried to mug me, grabbed for my purse. B-But I shoved them away. So they hit me. They made a break for it once the doors opened – with my purse. I tried to run after them, but I had rolled my ankle when they’d shoved me.”

Steve was getting worked up as she spoke. But he couldn’t freak out right now. She needed him. This wasn’t about his anger. It was about her being safe and – now – cared for.

He took in a deep breath as he cleaned her split lip, “Y/N, you shouldn’t have picked a fight with them. You should’ve just let them have your purse.”

“That purse basically had my life in it, Steve.”

“Well, your actual life is what I’m worried about,” he snapped back accidentally.

Y/N narrowed her eyes almost playfully. “That’s real rich coming from you, Steven Grant Rogers. As if you’ve ever run away from a fight in your god damn life.”

Steve shook his head, refusing to give in to her teasing. This was serious.

“We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you, Y/N.” His voice was stern. “They couldn’t had knives – or worse, guns.”

Y/N was quiet.

“I can buy you a new cellphone. We can replace all your cards,” he added.

Her head hung low now and she refused to meet his gaze. “I couldn’t let them get away with it.”

“They won’t,” Steve said firmly.

Then he noticed that she was still shaking. He went to his closet and grabbed one of his heavy sweatshirts and baggy pair of sweatpants. When he returned to the bathroom, he carefully helped her into both.

Steve pulled the hood up over her face, smirking at how adorable she looked. She had a habit of always doing that when they were lounging around. He was trying to make her feel more like herself.

“You’re okay, doll.” He whispered to her before kissing her forehead.

She nodded, knowing that she’d always be safe when she was with Steve.

There was a knock on his door suddenly.

They both turned to see Bucky standing in the doorway. He had a huge bag of ice and held it up, “Figured you’d need this. The police are here. They gotta get a statement from you, Y/N.”

“She can’t walk around on her ankle. Can you have ‘em come in here?” Steve answered for her.

Bucky nodded and handed Steve the bag of ice before leaving again.

The police came in to question Y/N. It was kind of pointless. Tony, Nat, and FRIDAY had already tracked down the two guys. But they definitely weren’t planning on telling the police that bit of information.

But Steve stayed close to Y/N and made sure the cops kept their distance from her, giving them a hard glare if they got too close.

An hour later, all the chaos had subdued a bit. Y/N was now laying in Steve’s bed, wearing his sweatpants, hood pulled up, and the television playing one of her favorite movies.

Steve had put it on in hopes that it would calm her down. He had felt her high heart rate and her body still was shaking slightly. He’d made her calming tea and tried to get her to drink a few glasses of water. Eventually her shaking and heart rate went down.

“Y/N, I don’t want you taking the subway at night anymore,” Steve spoke into her hair.

“Not very realistic,” she mumbled back numbly.

“If it’s about the money, I’ll put your Uber and Lyft accounts under my credit card. I don’t care.”

Y/N sat up to look into his eyes. “You can’t put me in a glass case, Steve.”

“I’m not. I just want to keep you safe, Y/N.”

She leaned in a pressed a kiss to his lips. “I know, Stevie. I know you can’t help but protect the people you love... But I’m not going to walk through life scared of everything. I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Yeah, because you were coming to see me.”

She sighed, “Don’t do that. Don’t manage to manipulate this whole thing to be something that’s your fault.”

He caressed her jawline. “I won’t. I promise. I’m… I’m just sorry this happened to you.”

She nodded slowly, “Me too.”

“Why don’t you get some rest? You’ve got to be exhausted.”

As if his words reminded her body suddenly how tired it was, she let out a long yawn. She nodded and placed her head back on his chest before closing her eyes.

Steve stroked circles on her back as he caged her body against his. He couldn’t see him letting her get very far from him for quite some time. It would probably end up annoying her. But there was worse ways for Y/N to be irritated with him.

—————

It was early in the morning when Steve woke up, Y/N’s body still pressed tightly against his. Even if she had wanted to wiggle out of his grasp, she wouldn’t have been able to fight his hold.

Steve knew waking up to a cup of coffee would cheer her up a bit. He ever so carefully shifted Y/N off of him so he could move out from underneath her.

He looked back down at her and saw a bruise had formed on her right cheek from the hit. Her lip was still cut and swollen too.

It both broke his heart and made him infuriated to see his girlfriend hurt like this.

When Steve reached the kitchen, Sam, Bucky, and Nat were the only ones up. They ceased their talking as soon as they saw him.

“How she doing?” Bucky was the first to break the silence.

Steve took in a deep breath. “She’s doing okay. Still shaken.”

“The girl’s tough. She’ll be alright,” Sam assured him.

Steve nodded in agreement.

They had always considered Y/N family, almost as soon as he introduced them to her. They were just as concerned for her as Steve. They were probably just handling it better than him.

“Hey, we were thinking that we could show Y/N some self-defense – when she’s up for it, of course,” Bucky suggested.

Steve was pouring two mugs of coffee. He turned around to see the three of them watching him carefully. As if the idea would make him lash out or something. But all he did was shrug, “Yeah…that’s probably a good idea.”

“We have a tracker on them,” Nat informed him carefully.

Steve’s brow furrowed. “How’d you manage that?”

“Tony called in a favor with Peter. Kid knows the city than any of us. He went on recon – promised he wouldn’t engage. He managed to put trackers on both of them.”

Then Nat slowly pushed a tablet towards Steve on the counter. It was a map of New York City with two dots blinking on it.

Steve quickly glanced up at her when he realized what he was looking at.

His hands tightened into fists. “Nat, can you and Wanda watch over Y/N for me?” His voice had never sounded both so serious and deadly.

Nat nodded, “Of course.”

Steve left the kitchen with the tablet tightly in his grasp and went to his room to change.

When he came militantly walking to the elevators, he already found Sam and Bucky waiting for him. They’d changed too.

“I don’t need your help,” Steve told them coldly.

“I know you don’t,” Bucky replied. “We’re just coming to make sure you don’t kill both of ‘em.”

Steve paused and glared at his best friend. “That’s not funny.”

The doors to the elevator opened. Sam and Bucky followed him inside.

“It wasn’t meant to be a joke,” Bucky clarified as the doors closed.

“No uniform?” Sam asked.

“It’s not Captain America getting revenge.”

No, it was Steve Rogers. —————

Y/N had been fidgeting her entire way to the police station. She’d never been to one before. It felt weird. She didn’t belong there and that was obvious. Phones were ringing, there was a constant murmur of quiet conversations, the printer never seemed to stop inking paper.

Steve held her hand tighter than usual as they’d made their way there. He hadn’t let go of it since they’d arrived.

“Okay. Ms. Y/L/N, this is a one-way mirror. These men can’t see you. There’s nothing for you to worry about. We just need to know if you see one or both of the men that attacked you that night.”

Steve squeezed her hand reassuringly.

Y/N nodded in understanding and the men walked in.

It wasn’t hard for her to immediately recognize the two men. However, it would’ve been easier if they both weren’t black and blue with bruises.

Y/N instantly pointed them out to the detective.

“You sure?” He asked her carefully.

“Without a doubt,” she quickly responded and narrowed her gaze that gave him a look, daring him to question her again.

“Where’d you find them?” She asked casually.

“We didn’t. Someone threw them on the steps of the station, hands and feet zip tied behind their backs.”

The detective gave a playful side eye to Steve. Any fool knew who brought the two criminals in. But acknowledging that would make things messier. So the NYPD played dumb for the benefit of both Y/N and the Avengers.

Y/N nodded, but stopped herself from glancing at Steve.

“That’s all we need from you, Ms. Y/L/N. We appreciate you coming in. We know this process isn’t easy, especially after what you went through.”

Y/N signed all the paperwork she needed and said her thanks to the police officers and detectives working on the case. They all politely shook Steve’s hand and they were on their way.

Steve decided to take Y/N out for breakfast to try and bring some silver-lining to the early trip.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” he finally said after Y/N had stared out the window of the diner for ten minutes without saying a word.

She finally tore her gaze away from it and gave Steve a vigilant look. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

Steve tensed slightly. “Do what?”

Y/N glared at his attempt to play dumb. She knew he realized perfectly well what she was talking about, further proving his guilt.

“Defend my honor, seek justice…whatever it was that you thought you were doing.”

Steve sighed and sat back. “They got what they had coming.”

“Did you do for me or did you do it for yourself?” She challenged.

“If I’m being honest? Both. I won’t lie about that.”

“Well, I’m glad you found something to make you feel better about all this bullshit,” Y/N sarcastically spat.

Steve gave her a mournful look. She was hurting. He knew that.

He watched her for a moment, not rushing to say words sloppily. “Look, I know nothing I say or do will take away what happened that night. You were attacked and I know that makes you feel violated and weak and unsafe. I know because I’ve been there…far too many times.”

Steve shook himself out of past memories.

He reached across the table to hold her hand. “But you’re my girl. And we both know how messed up our justice system is. There’s a chance they don’t get locked up. I had to make sure they got their judgment…had to make sure they paid for what they did to you.”

Y/N couldn’t stay mad him when he looked at her with those love-filled eyes and said things like that to her. She just couldn’t.

“So are you some vigilante now?”

Steve smirked at her joke and leaned across the booth until his face was only a centimeter away from her’s.

“Only for you,” he said before kissing her sweetly.

--------

Thanks for sending in this request. It instantly inspired me!

LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT 😉

#steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #marvel reader insert #steve rogers reader insert #protective steve rogers #protective!steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers request

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jeanjauthor · 4 years ago

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Do you have any tip for recognize what your love language for giving and receiving please ? I have no clue due to being autistic / being from an abusive household / being the eldest daughter ( trained to pick up after others / serve since childhood ) . I don’t know what they are and it’s driving me crazy.

This is an excellent, important question to ask. You recognize that what you’ve been *taught* to do isn’t necessarily *your* love language. With the background you’ve described, knowing this about yourself is super-important for *reclaiming* yourself. (Also, I am very proud of you for facing these things.)

Now, I’m no expert, but I have observed a lot over the years, and thought a lot about the Love Languages, too. So here are my thoughts:

First, the big Caveat: Your love language may actually be Acts of Service, but it’ll have been warped by the abusive constraints you grew up under. This is actually worse than most people would assume--you’ve been forced to give what you would’ve given for free if you’d had a choice, but you didn’t have much of a choice.

Whether or not Acts of Service is your love language in the end...that alone makes it a consent violation. Emotional consent violations are more insidiously, subtly traumatizing--not necessarily worse, but definitely more difficult to observe, confirm, confront, & recover from. So finding out that your primary love language has been manipulated and used against you may be...disturbing...to learn. (If you can afford competent counseling, I strongly recommend it--and yes, don’t hesitate to try different counselors if the first or second or however many don’t feel like a good match.)

It could be something else--with five major categories to choose from, you got four other possibilities. You may have need to receive love in a different language from AoS, but have been taught (polite euphemism) to give love only in the one way you were demanded most often to express.

You could also have multiple love languages, and that multitude can express itself in different ways with different people. I myself am bilingual, Acts of Service and Physical Touch. I’m lucky in that I was never forced to give AoS, but it makes it a little more difficult at times to know which of the two I need at any given moment, because it’s not always easy to tell. Plus, there are just some people I will never be comfortable receiving PT from, though AoS is fine.

I even know of one couple who expressed & received love in all 5 categories, and both felt satisfied with each kind, making it difficult to tell if they had a primary...until I asked them how they liked giving & receiving with others. They had actually ended up unconsciously tailoring how they expressed love to specific other people (children, grandchildren) according to that other person’s needs. Now, I’m not saying this couple is perfect (they’re drama hounds in some ways, and if things are going too smoothly, they’ll stir the pot a bit). They’re just an example of how you can receive in one language (or several) and give in other languages.

With that said, the best way to figure it out is to take the 5 Love Languages tests: https://www.5lovelanguages.com/quizzes/

These are comparative tests, always pairing up two different Love Language ways to express oneself and asking you to pick the one that more suits you.

There are no wrong answers.

As someone who is also on the spectrum colorwheel (I love the analogy a tumblr user came up for describing it!), I want you to know that it is not only okay to be unsure about your answers, but that you can actually get a better idea of your Love Languages by taking the test multiple times, and swapping out the answers you weren’t sure about. Keep track of your scores, and whenever you run across a quiz that gives you point totals for each category, compare the point totals.

Why? Because not all those bilingual in Love Languages will be equally bilingual 100% of the time (or 50-50, lol). More importantly, as you become more self-aware of your past habits and work to release yourself from their chains, the more your Love Languages may change. It is also important to realize that you can become fluent in a language not normally your own, if you are emotionally invested in the person you are expressing that language to, and are aware of how they receive it & react to it--in other words, this is a very real case of “learning to taking pleasure from other people’s happiness.”

Also, as we grow and learn and change (which life makes us do simply by existing & interacting with the world), sometimes our Love Language(s) may shift a bit. Again, this is perfectly natural and normal. There are no wrong answers.

One of the ways that our Love Languages can shift is--after trauma and/or abuse--our ability to give & receive love can actually weaken, and even wither. A lot of that has to do with being protective, defensive, in an emotionally hostile environment. Some of that, however--as many of us have learned over the last handful of months--may have come about as a result of quarantine isolation.

For those of us who already have difficulty with social interactions (autism spectrum, ADHD, anxiety, depression, etc), isolation worsens our ability to pick up on social cues, even to the point of having difficulty noticing social cues, which includes noticing LL interactions. And as with physical starvation, love starvation can get us reduced to the point where we no longer notice how hungry we are for loving interactions.

But most importantly, not everyone will have the same dialect, or sub-dialect, of Love Language. For example, your LL may be Physical Touch, but if those who abused you constantly put a heavy hand on your shoulder, gripping it with bruising strength, being touched on your shoulder will automatically give you a negative reaction by association.

I personally don’t like holding hands. It doesn’t come naturally to me. But I am definitely an elbows-interlocked person, because that feels much more natural to me. Or if you’re trying to give someone a Gift with that LL, the type of gift you give may or may not make them feel loved.

It’s like the stereotypical joke of the husband giving the wife a new vacuum cleaner for their birthday. Even if Gifts are her main LL, the gift of a vacuum cleaner comes with a burden of expectations...and if her secondary Love Language is Acts of Service...? Unless she asked for it as a gift choice (or spoke about getting a new one positively in some way)...that’s really not gonna be a good gift.

(Even then, offering to use it yourself to tidy the house so the burden isn’t 100% on her shoulders is going to be received positively by most folks...unless they have house-cleaning-based OCD, in which case, ask first, and work with them to accommodate what you can, to reduce stress in your partner. Also, some people might genuinely like things like a new vacuum cleaner if they know that the giver is aware their Love Language is Acts of Service, or bilingually AoS and Gifts...but again, if you aren’t completely sure...ask.)

With all of that said and carefully considered, you probably have a long road ahead of you, untangling your past from your present, and untangling your burdensome expectations from your actual desires. But that’s okay.

Again, there are no wrong answers.

This isn’t a math equation. Your answers do not have to match each time you take a Love Language test. Not even if you turn around and take it again five minutes after your first run-through. And don’t hesitate to re-take it once a week or once a month, and ask yourself if your feelings about each question or suggestion has changed. Just be in the moment, in that moment, and consider your answers in that particular moment.

It may even be helpful to keep a little journal, a .doc file or something, with your thoughts on the questions and answers on a given date. Write down or otherwise make a note of any questions that seemed particularly important to you, or particularly ambivalent (in which case, write down both suggestions for later review).

Definitely don’t be afraid to go back over your previous results.

There are no wrong answers.

You are a living, growing being, constantly changing as you encounter new thoughts, new ideas, new situations. When we look at this situation in that light...how could there possibly be any “right answer” without it being solely a “right now” answer?

Again, you have a lot to unpack, a lot to decompress, a lot to escape, a lot to re-explore once you can shed more of the burdens of your past. These things will take time...which sucks when you want to know now...but that’s alright. Again, there are no wrong answers, since what you learn today only applies to today. Come back in a week, re-examine everything, and see how you feel then.

Whatever your Love Language(s) might be, I’m genuinely proud of you for being aware of the impositions of your past, and wanting to know what’s ahead of you for your future. Just one last thought to consider: Don’t feel you have to only ever give-and-receive in one specific Love Language, if you discover a particular one.

Bilingualism can help you and an important person in your life bond together that much more, if you know or or at least can guess fairly readily what their own LL might be. My mother’s LL is Quality Time, and I interconnect with her through Acts of Service by choosing to do things with her, while being mindful to chat with her, joke & laugh with her, etc. We could do chores together, we could go traveling together...the important thing is that we connect together. And no, it doesn’t have to be applied to your own mother; your own family relationships are your own, and probably won’t be solved by so simple an answer.

Me, I’m retaking the Singles Quiz from the above linked website right now, because I just realized it’s been over a year since I took it, and I’ve been through a lot, emotionally & mentally, over the last year-plus...and that’s without adding the decade-long year-from-hell that has been 2020 so far.

Remember, you’re a living, growing, and thus potentially ever-changing being. Sometimes that growth & change is to become more of something. Sometimes it’s a change away from one thing and more toward another, or more toward a state of neutrality/equilibrium...and again there are no wrong answers. Sometimes you may need to return to neutral equilibrium, so you can recover from the burdens of your past, regain the room to resume your true shape...and regain the room to figure out what that true inner shape (or Love Language) truly is.

*piles prepackaged hugs by your front door*

You are worthy of love, you are worthy of giving love, and you are most definitely worthy of receiving love. Ideally in all the ways that satisfy your need to be loved fully. Good luck with the tests--and I say that solely because you’re going to be ambiguous about some of the choices. We all feel that way, on certain subjects on certain days. Remember...

There are no wrong answers.

#hrmm...looks like I've picked up Quality Time as well as the other two #more or less one third each with a smidge in the last two categories

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7-wonders · 6 years ago

Text

Naked & Afraid

Summary: You finally (unwillingly, like everything else that’s happened to you since that night in the parking lot) meet your father-in-law in what is arguably some of the weirdest circumstances you’ve ever dealt with.

Word Count: 3734

A/N: What, Claire finally updated Mad Love? Hell must’ve frozen over and pigs are surely flying! Feedback is always appreciated (even the h8ers; bring it on hunny I’m always up for a throwdown), and if you liked this chapter I would love if you would reblog and/or leave me a comment!

Every single thing about Michael Langdon and the life that he lives is the epitome of luxury, so it comes as no surprise that the en suite bathroom that has been deemed yours is just as opulent as everything else you’ve seen. After an incredibly long week that’s seemed to stretch for months, the large, ornate bathtub is the only thing on your mind. After Michael cut dinner short tonight, an issue with the Cooperative requiring his attention, you found yourself sitting on your bed and trying to figure out what to do with an unexpected free evening. Your head is still spinning after everything that’s happened in the past couple of days, and a long bath is where you tend to do your best thinking and decompressing. Today, especially, there’s a lot to think about.

The sound of rushing water fills the bathroom and echoes off of the large granite walls (who has granite walls?). Sticking your hand under the steady stream, you fiddle with the knob for a few moments before finding your ideal temperature. The bathtub starts to fill quickly, and you pour a generous amount of some fragrant lavender bubble bath into the water. You sit back on the balls of your feet, waiting for the bath to fill to your desired depth before rushing to turn it off. Glancing one last time to make sure you remembered to lock the door, you yank your clothes off of your body before sinking into the bath.

You sigh audibly once the hot water covers your body, the heat immediately going to work at relaxing your muscles. Relaxing against the back of the porcelain tub, you turn your phone on to play some music and stare up at the ceiling. There’s a chandelier, because of course there is. Although the signature black is prevalent throughout the room, you’re pleased to see some accents of purple and silver as well. Your thoughts, which can never just remain on one topic for an extended period of time, quickly shift to what’s happened yesterday and today.

The major thing is, of course, the kiss that you shared with Michael mere hours ago. More specifically, why the hell did you reciprocate the kiss? He certainly didn’t use his magic on you; even if you didn’t know what magic felt like when it was used on you now, the stern warning that you would beat his ass scared him enough to not even consider it. But, it’s not as if you like him. At best, you’re starting to tolerate him. That doesn’t mean you’ve ever thought about kissing him before, no matter how soft his lips actually are.

Maybe it was a lapse in judgement? Or maybe drunk (Y/N) was still lurking in the darkest recesses of your mind, just waiting for a moment to come out and screw everything up. A single kiss does not equal attraction of any kind. Michael’s arrogant, nosy, doesn’t understand boundaries, is the literal Antichrist and, to top it off, kidnapped you to be his unwilling bride. But at the same time, he obviously didn’t have a very loving or normal childhood, and he’s been used as a puppet by so many: Ms. Mead, the Satanists, his father. You don’t empathize with him, or even excuse his actions due to what he’s gone through. You do, however, understand why he acts the way that he does; maybe that makes all the difference.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but it’s obvious that you did. One moment, you’re relaxing in a bathtub and pondering how weird your life has gotten, and then you blink and you’re here. Well, wherever ‘here’ is. Everything’s dark, as if you’re standing outside in an empty field with no sign of stars, the moon, or any lights. Your eyes take a minute to adjust, but even then you’re still unable to see any sign of life. Although you can’t see anything, you can feel that something, or someone, is here with you.

The hair on your arms prickles, goosebumps rising as you feel a pair of piercing eyes watching you. The worst part, though, is that you can’t tell which direction they’re looking at you from. Just when you turn around to try and catch them, the feeling’s from behind you. It’s everywhere: Your back, your arms, your side, your face. At times it feels like you’re nose to nose with this entity, even though there’s nothing there. Your breathing picks up, nervously coming out in visible puffs as you wrap your arms around yourself. Looking down suddenly, you’re grateful that you’re not still naked in this dream (or vision, or premonition). You’re wearing the same clothes that you were wearing earlier today, almost as if you had dressed yourself while asleep.

As far as you can tell, you’re alone. That is, until you’re not. You spin around in a slow circle one last time, shrieking loudly when you come face to face with a man. A small smile has his pink lips upturned, showing his amusement at your fear. He’s tall, tall enough that his neck is bent in order to look at you. His unruly black hair somehow manages to look like he styled it that way, and his hazel eyes seem to flicker and crackle with sparks. You stumble backwards, desperate to put some space between you and this stranger. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, reminding you of how Michael looks when he smells your fear in the air.

“Who are you?” Your voice, although you attempt to sound strong, comes out shaky and hesitant.

“I am known by many different names, and I possess many different faces.” He quips, taking one long step closer to you. “Mmm, but of course you would not recognize me as I am now, right, sweet (Y/N)?”

“How do you know my name?”

He doesn’t answer. In a split second, he’s changed from the man with the mop of black hair to a tall man with brown hair and brown eyes, a trimmed beard on his face. If it weren’t for the same sparks in his eyes, you would have thought it was a completely different person.

“Does this not work for you, either?” His form changes again, to that of a teenage boy in an ill-fitting sweater and ratty jeans. His blond hair hasn’t been combed in a while, but he has the same brown eyes as that of the man before him.

“Stop doing this!” You snap, half-tempted to smack him.

“Oh, but I think you will quite enjoy this next form.” Suddenly, Michael stands before you. It looks just like the Michael you know, except for those eyes. Michael’s eyes, the real Michael’s eyes, lack that odd flame in them that this person has.

“Change back.” You say through gritted teeth. You’re not sure why the sight of him makes you feel so odd, but it does.

“You are no fun at all.” He sighs, reverting back to the original form that you first saw him in.

“I’m going to ask you this one more time. Who. Are. You?” Your hands are balled into fists at your sides, and you can feel your nails digging into the calloused flesh there.

“‘The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.’” He quips. It sounds familiar, what he’s saying, but you have no clue where you would have heard something like this before. “Why did you react the way that you did when I assumed the image of my son?”

“Your son? Who’s your…” You trail off upon realizing the only person that he could possibly be referring to as his son. He smirks, knowing that you’re hoping with every fiber of your being that he’s not who you think he is.

“Such a smart woman you are, (Y/N).” His voice drips with the same saccharine that tempted Eve when she stood at that lonely tree in the Garden of Eden, listening to the lies of the serpent as he whispered in her ear that the Forbidden Fruit would provide her the same knowledge that God himself possessed. “Surely you have heard some of my names. Beelzebub, Mephistopheles, Lucifer--” he cuts himself off, and the grin that he shoots your way has you shuddering at the mere sight of it, “--Satan.”

“You can’t be, I--how am I here?” There’s so much about this situation that’s wrong, but for some reason your mind latches onto the sheer absurdity of waking up in an actual hellscape.

“My dear, I’m the Devil. A mere parlor trick is all it took to get you into my domain.” He spreads his arms wide, proud of the desolate landscape that stretches ahead for miles and miles.

“I’m not your ‘dear.’” You retort, eyes widening when you realize that you just sassed Satan himself. Instead of stealing your soul and banishing you to the Ninth Circle of Hell, which is what you’re expecting, he stares at you for a moment before laughing loudly.

“See, everytime I think that I chose the wrong mortal to be my son’s companion, you prove to me that I made the correct choice.” He seems proud of himself, standing tall and with his chest out.

“You ruined my life with your ‘choice.’”

Satan’s face falls, and he takes another step closer to you. “I have given you the opportunity to be great!”

“You stole my free will!”

“Thanks to me, you will rule the New World side-by-side with Michael. You are the missing link to bring about our plans for the Apocalypse. My son, as I am sure you have noticed, is all too human. I blame his mother; gentle, impassioned Vivien did not pass many things down to Michael, but she did manage to give the boy an overly caring heart. He needs someone to fulfill his heart’s desires, and who better than the one who was handpicked for him?”

“The Apocalypse,” you scoff, choosing to ignore the last part of his spiel for now as you look the Devil right in the eyes. “Why do you even want to bring about the Apocalypse? Once everyone’s dead, there’s no more new souls for you to torture.”

“Hell is not just made up of the souls of the damned, (Y/N). Legions of demons, swarms of locusts and scorpions, plagues that mankind has long since forgotten. My domain shall no longer be restricted just to Hell. Instead, Hell, and all of her beasts, will wreak havoc upon the Earth.”

“You want to kill billions of people, just so that you and your buddies can get your jollies?”

“Chaos and disorder are what keeps the world running. I am merely trying to make sure that only those who can survive the most chaotic of situations will populate the New World. Which, might I remind you, you shall have a hand in ruling.”

“I don’t want your fucking crown or kingdom.”

You go to whirl around, hoping that there will be some door that you missed when you first woke up here, but you’re faced again with Satan. When you try to back away from him, a ring of flames encircles both of you, effectively trapping you with him. He snatches your wrist, and your eyes widen at the sharp talons digging into your skin.

“Did your mother never teach you that gratitude is a virtue?” His voice comes out as a thunder, shaking the very ground that you stand on.

You really should tone down the sass and backtalk, but you can’t help it when a man as arrogant as any you’ve ever met stands mere inches away. “That’s really rich, coming from the literal Devil.”

“You foolish, insolent little girl. You have no idea what I am capable of.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as he loosens his grip on your wrist, allowing you to snatch your extremity back from him. You rub the skin, visibly marked and bleeding in areas where the talons pierced through, as gently as possible while trying to gain some feeling back into your tingling hand.

“I embody the seven deadly sins,” he continues. “I can become your greatest desire…”

You haven’t been looking at him while attending to your wrist, but your movements stop at the sudden change of voice when he reaches the end of his sentence. Moving your eyes slowly upwards, you let out a harsh breath when you’re greeted with Michael’s smirking face. The Michael doppelgänger slowly walks towards you, lifting a chilly hand up to your face and caressing your cheek.

“Don’t touch me.” You mutter, unable to look away from his cerulean eyes.

“C’mon, (Y/N),” even his mocking tone sounds just like the Michael that you know, “don’t play coy with me. I can see into the deepest parts of your soul. That purity that you try so furiously to embody, tinted black in some areas. You desire me, even though you hate to admit it.”

“I don’t.”

“Liar.” He whispers, breath ghosting across your face while he moves even closer to yours. “The very essence of your being calls out for me, just as I call out for you. We were created for each other. No matter how much you try and fight it, we belong to each other. Soon enough, your mind will give into what your soul already knows.”

“Stop it!” You shout, shoving him away from you.

Satan goes stumbling back, caught off-guard by your sudden attack and nearly topping into the flames. When he rights himself again, he has a devil’s grin plastered across his original face.

“As I was saying, I can become your greatest desire, but I can also transform into your worst nightmare.”

He starts to shift and change, body convulsing as bones grow from out of nowhere. Satan’s no longer a man, although was the title of ‘man’ ever one that could be bestowed upon him? Instead, he’s a horrific, imposing creature with multiple heads that almost looks like some sort of dragon.

“‘And I saw a beast coming out of the sea,’” he bellows, all of the heads combining their voices to form a roar that has you clapping your hands over your ears. “‘It had ten horns and seven heads, with ten crowns on its horns, and on each head a blasphemous name.’”

Vaguely, you realize that the heads are quoting some part of the Book of Revelation, but you don’t have time to wonder about if the Devil has the Bible memorized when the heads of the beast unhinge their jaws, showing off their gaping maws and the dim glow of fire being conjured from deep in their belly. As the heads start to lower towards you, you drop to your knees and let out a blood curdling shriek.

Michael senses your panic before he hears your terrified screams. He springs up from his plush leather chair in his office, abruptly ending the phone call he was just on with a couple of world leaders. Your screams permeate the air, Michael’s heart pounding in terror at what you could possibly be experiencing right now. In his mind, there’s no time to waste. He blasts the bathroom door open the moment that it comes into view, hoping that you’ll forgive him for barging in on you while you’re nude.

Your subconscious, which Satan had pulled into Hell the moment your eyes slipped closed for longer than a second, had jolted back into your body upon sensing your imminent demise. In your panic, you had slipped under the water, inhaling mouthfuls of it as your lungs tried to breathe normally again. Your hands cling to the lip of the tub, almost like you’re worried that something will swim up from the depths of the bath and attempt to drag you back under. Alternating between screaming and coughing up the water that has invaded your lungs, your eyes remain clenched tight.

Michael reaches for you before his mind can start to think about the repercussions of doing so, arms slipping under your body and pulling you out of the water. His suit is soaking wet now, but he doesn’t care. He’s never seen you like this before, so terror-stricken that you can’t even open your eyes, and it shakes him to his core. You thrash against his firm chest, sure that Satan has shifted back and captured you in hell. It’s only when you hear his frantically calm reassurances that your body stops writhing.

“Hey, you’re okay, it’s fine. I’m here, nothing can hurt you.” He soothes you, waiting patiently for your eyes to flutter open.

“Michael? It’s...it’s actually you, right?” Your voice is meek in a way that he’s never heard before.

“Why wouldn’t it be me?” Your eyes fill with tears at the memory, and you shake your head before burying your face in his chest, sobs wracking your body. “What happened to you?”

The only sounds you make are the small whimpers that slip past the barrier of your mouth, floating to Michael’s ears. His fingers go to your back, freezing when he remembers that you’re naked. Hesitantly, he grabs a towel and wraps you in it, though you’re still too shocked to even care. Michael holds you tightly against him, rubbing circles on your back and listening to your heart to make sure it evens out. It takes a while, but it slowly manages to go to a rate that wouldn’t have an Apple Watch alerting its owner of a possible heart attack.

“(Y/N), is it okay if I get you dressed?” If your head wasn’t pressed against his chest, he wouldn’t even be aware that you had nodded in response to his request, the movement was so small.

Michael can tell that the steady metronome of his heart is calming to you, so he remains silent while he runs another towel through your hair. He’s gentle with you, almost like you’re a wisp of smoke he’s managed to capture in his hands; one wrong movement, and you’ll disappear. He helps to tug the black nightdress over your head, looking up at the ceiling while he inches it down past your thighs until you’re modest. A wave of his bejeweled hand makes the bathtub start to drain, the sound of the water level receding helping to fill the silence of the bathroom.

You’re exhausted, although you’re not sure if it’s from the near-drowning that still has your lungs feeling like they’re burning or the fact that Satan literally had you in Hell with him. When Michael picks you up in his arms, you don’t even bother to protest what he’s doing. The covers of your bed have already been turned down, likely the work of a maid slipping in while you were first in the bathroom. Michael sets you down amongst the plush pillows and starts to pull the blankets up around you, but stops when you grab his hand.

“It was Satan.” You mutter, tired eyes gazing up to see his panicked reaction.

“What?”

“Lay down with me.” Patting the spot on the bed next to you, Michael slowly slips his shoes off before sliding in next to you. You smile slightly at how he still respects your space, fingers just barely brushing against yours in an effort to not piss you off. “I must have fallen asleep while I was taking a bath. It felt like I only blinked, and suddenly I was in this pitch black landscape…”

You tell him everything about the confrontation with his father, only leaving out the part where Satan accused Michael of being your greatest desire. He listens intently throughout your entire story, saving all of his comments for after you’re finished.

“Why did he show himself to you?” Michael mutters, almost as if he’s talking to himself.

“Does he normally not do that?”

“I’ve never actually seen him before. My father has an...odd way of communicating with me, and that usually involves some sort of visions or rituals. I don’t understand why you’re--” he cuts himself off, jaw tightening while he lets out a sigh. “--he’s not pleased with either of us.”

“He couldn’t just have a friendly conversation with you instead of dragging me to Hell?”

“This was intended to be a message that would resonate with both of us. Would you have taken me seriously if he had spoken to me during a ritual?”

“You already know I wouldn’t.”

“Then what better way to voice his displeasure than by getting the skeptic, the unwilling second part of this equation, to be the messenger?”

“I don’t understand why he’s not pleased, though. I married you. Isn’t that enough?”

Michael grimaces. “You’re far more headstrong than he thought you would be. I think, when my father was picking a bride for me, he imagined that she would be this demure little thing who faithfully worshipped Satan and had already accrued a body count by her eighteenth birthday. You are almost the exact opposite of that, and it infuriates him. Any wrench in our plans means more time that’s wasted.”

“What you order on Amazon versus what shows up.” You joke, chuckling when Michael stifles a smile. “C’mon, that was funny!”

“It’s time for you to get some rest, (Y/N).” Michael reminds you, stroking your damp hair back from your face. His clothes are no longer wet, and you briefly wonder if he used his magic to dry them before nerves seize your stomach.

“Wait! Please don’t leave me.” You plead, gripping his arm tightly with both of yours. Michael looks concerned, and you sigh. “I’m scared that he’ll get me again if I fall asleep.”

Michael’s arms wrap around you, securing you against his chest. That steady rhythm that makes up his heartbeat starts to calm you again, and you use the sound to ground yourself.

“I won’t let him anywhere near you, I promise.” You can’t be too sure, considering how fast you drift off, but it feels like he lays a kiss to your forehead.

Michael keeps his promise, remaining with you until long after you’re asleep. When his own eyes start to slip closed, he allows himself to fall asleep next to you, protecting you no matter what.

Tag List: @sammythankyou @girlycakepops @ultragibbycentralworld @sebastianshoe @nana15774 @queencocoakimmie @lichellaw @grim-adventures58 @dandycandy75 @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @alexcornerblogthethird @everything-is-awesomesauce @ccodyfern @jimmlangdon @dolceandchalamet @omgsuperstarg @queenie435 @dextergirl12345 @americanhorrorstudies @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @coloursunlimited @punkysouls @kahhlo @storminmytwistedmind @1-800-bitchcraft @langdonsdemon @langdonslove @carousallie @cuddletothecake @born-on-stgeorges-day @mega-combusken @michaelsapostle @babyloutattoo89 @divinelangdon @venusxxlangdon @idespac @hexqueensupreme @hecohansen31 @rocketgirl2410 @gold-dragon-slayer

#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon imagines #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon fanfiction #american horror story #american horror story imagine #american horror story apocalypse #ahs #ahs imagine #ahs apocalypse #*taps on microphone* are these tags on???

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anistarrose · 5 years ago

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Don’t Hang Up Yet, I’m Not Done (TAZ Balance AU)

Summary: Tres Horny Boys have the Red Robe’s phone number, continued. This time, Merle and Taako make some calls.

Warnings: Dissociation

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18979621/chapters/45066238

A sequel to this fic, which was in turn inspired by this art by @mspainttaz!

***

The next call Barry gets is in the late afternoon several weeks later, and once again, something tells him exactly who’s going to be on the other end of the line before he even moves to pick it up.

(Then again, it’s barely been an hour since he gave Merle that cryptic nod, so it’s not exactly difficult to guess the reason for the call.)

“You saved my kids,” Merle whispers, sounding dumbstruck even now. “Why?”

“I — I just — why wouldn’t I? I had the power to stop innocent people from getting hurt. Of course I saved them.”

“Well, that’s real altruistic of you,” Merle murmurs. Bit by bit, his normal enthusiasm creeps back into his voice as he continues: “Not sure how you’re supposed to reconcile that worldview with making the Relics, though. Too bad I can’t cast Zone of Truth over the stone, ha!”

“Yeah, it’s a real shame,” Barry replies. “Anyways, you need to teach your kids to be more careful. Odds are I won’t be around during the next… freak accident.”

“Yeah, their passive perception stinks,” Merle agrees with a sad laugh. “Or at least Mookie’s does, as much as I love the little fireball. Mavis is a bright little thing when she’s not busy looking after her brother — she reads at a college level, you know! Probably gonna make a hell of a wizard one day!”

“Give it to me like you would under Zone of Truth, Merle — did you call me just to brag about your kids?”

“Don’t tell my boss,” Merle answers in a hushed whisper. “I’ll get my employee phone plan revoked!”

Barry struggles to stifle a laugh. “Merle Hightower Highchurch, calling up the enemy to have a friendly chat? What would the Director think?”

Merle laughs too, the irony lost on him. “You know, you’re a much better conversationalist today than you were the first couple times we met. What’s up with that?”

“Uh… I dunno, social anxiety? How’s life on the moon treating you?”

“It’s got its perks. Apparently the gravity is low enough up there that my spinal cord decompressed, so now I’m a millimeter taller — and trust me, I know it doesn’t sound like much, but we dwarves have to take what we can get!”

“I can imagine.” An idea occurs to Barry — it’s a long shot, but worth a try. “How about the gnomes — are there any gnomes up there? How are they doing with the gravity situation?”

“Well, Leon doesn’t ‘like’ me or ‘the crew I hang with’ so I don’t really talk to him. And Davenport, well…”

Barry very nearly short-circuits his Stone of Farspeech as sparks of magic course through his form and down his sleeves. “What about Davenport? How is he?”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and Barry gets a bad feeling that he came across as a little too invested in Davenport’s well-being.

His fears are confirmed when Merle asks: “What, do you know him?”

“Just heard the name in passing,” Barry lies. “Never met him, but most names from the Bureau that I hear in passing end up belonging to pretty important people. What’s his — what does he do for your operation up there?”

“You know, I’ve never really thought about it before, but — if we could make this our little ‘Truth Zone’ here, for just a second — I’m not really sure why Lucretia hired him in the first place. All he can say is his own name, and he always seems kinda anxious about one thing or another — again, I never know what, since he can’t really talk.”

Barry doesn’t know how to reply.

“Damn good at cards, though! You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to find a good game of yooker these days — or even chess, for that matter. You play either?”

“No.” Barry’s pretty sure that Merle and Davenport are the only people in the planar-verse who know how to play the game they’ve dubbed “yooker.” And he doesn’t even want to think about that chess remark.

“Darn. Well, I should probably get going — I can’t miss karaoke night with the boys. We’ve been trying all month to get Lucretia to join us, and she finally let it slip that she hasn’t got anything going on this evening!”

“Oh. Well, uh… don’t let me keep you from that, then. Nice talking to you.”

After he switches his stone off, Barry adds in a whisper: “Wish I could join you.”

***

“Sup, Little Red Riding Robe?”

“Don’t call me that,” the Red Robe groans. From the other end of the line, Taako hears the faint rustling of papers — his call must have interrupted something. He doesn’t feel too bad about it, though.

“What, would you rather be the Big Bad Wolf?” Taako asks. “I thought I was doing you a solid and painting you in a sympathetic light!”

“You know what, fine. Little Red Riding Robe it is,” the Red Robe replies. The hostility in his voice begins to dissipate as he goes on. “Tell me, Taako — is this just another prank call?”

Taako chuckles. “Oh, you wish. See, I stumbled across a piece of info that might just interest you…”

He pauses, waiting to see how the Red Robe reacts, but he’s met with silence.

“I’ve got your number, Riding Robe, idiomatically and literally. So this afternoon I took a quick vacay to the Stone of Farspeech service provider’s offices, cast a few Charm Person spells, and figured out just what name that number was registered to. Pretty clever, huh?”

It might just be Taako’s imagination, but it feels like the silence grows a little more tense.

“Now tell me, who’s this Sildar Hallwinter guy?” he asks. “Is that an alias, or did you just mug a dude and take his phone?”

The Red Robe chuckles. “Huh. That’s some genuinely impressive sleuthing — then again, I should’ve expected as much from you, Taako.”

“Well, uh, to tell you the truth… it was technically Angus’s idea — you ever hear about him? The boy detective? Little snoop was going through my dresser and found the paper I jotted down your number on, and dragged me into this quest to track down your true identity.”

“And does he think this case has been cracked wide open by this new info?”

“No. He’s pretty sure Hallwinter isn’t your real name — and don’t tell him I said this, but I trust him on that one-hundred percent. He’s pretty good with this stuff.”

“What did you really call me about if you’re so sure, then?”

What if she’s just gone?

“Well, I —”

Who?

“I…”

I can’t remember her face, Taako!

Whose face?!

Please, Taako, just kill me!

“Taako? Taako, are you with me?”

He doesn’t feel like he’s with anyone. Even lying on his bed, beneath a pile of heavy blankets he doesn’t remember arranging, he still can’t stop shivering. He’s so cold, and so, so alone.

He clutches the Umbra Staff close to his chest, close to his heart. It’s the only warm thing he can feel.

“Please, Taako, can you say something?” the disembodied voice continues. It sounds like it’s trying very hard to stay calm, and mostly succeeding. “Tell me what’s happening? I have Merle and Magnus’s numbers — I can call them if you need someone to come help —”

It also sounds very familiar, but trying to place it makes Taako feel like he’s teetering over the edge of a void, about to lose his balance and plunge into darkness.

“W-who is this?”

“It’s me, Taako, it’s… it’s the Red Robe.”

Taako’s eyes finally land on the Stone of Farspeech at the corner of his bed, and hesitantly extends a hand towards it. It’s not quite as warm as the Umbra Staff — but it’s certainly not cold, either. He pulls it closer, wrapping his fingers around it.

The Red Robe lets out a short, sad chuckle, which the speaker garbles a little bit. “There are some who call me Little Red Riding Robe. Or Sildar Hallwinter.”

“Sh-shit.” Their earlier conversation returns to Taako quickly, as he tries to sit up in bed. His teeth are still chattering slightly when he tries to speak. “I — I dunno what just happened. I just b-blacked out —”

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay. It’s not your fault.” There’s a pause. “Hey, do you think you can you tell me a little more about Angus? He seems like a bright kid —”

“He is. B-been picking up magic real fast too. He’s a nosy little shit who never stops asking questions to all two dozen of his adoptive moon parents and I’m so glad Lucretia hired him.”

“He was right about Sildar Hallwinter being an alias, you know. Did he say what tipped him off?”

“He’s got contacts in the police force planetside like you wouldn’t believe. There was hardly anything in any of their files about Sildar, so we talked to Johann and he told us that name never got fed to the Voidfish. From there, Angus just figured that no real person would have that little info about them floating around.”

“Huh. That makes sense. Did Merle and Magnus come along for this adventure, or was it just the two of you?”

“Nah, Magnus was hanging with Carey and Merle was napping. I could hear him snoring from a room away.”

“What about the Director? I’m assuming you didn’t mention this to her?”

“Oh, hell no. She’d throw us straight in the brig if she ever learned how long we’ve had your number without telling her.”

“Yeah, I figured. I trust Merle and Magnus are doing well?”

“Yeah, they’re… well, actually… okay, look. I probably shouldn’t be telling you of all people about this, but something’s been off about Magnus lately. I thought I was imagining it at first, but now I’m pretty sure he’s trying to avoid the Director — which is actually kinda hard these days, since she’s been overseeing our training more and more. And he’s been really awkward around Johann, too. I’ve never seen him like this, and… I’m kinda worried.”

The Red Robe goes silent for a moment. “Well… what happened in Refuge must have been hard on him. I’m sure he’ll feel better soon.”

“Yeah, yeah. He’s pretty tough…” Part of Taako feels guilty for revealing so much to the Red Robe, but part of him doesn’t want to hang up. Magnus and Merle are already fast asleep — what if he blacks out again, and no one’s on the phone to talk him out of it?

Then again… is that what the Red Robe is aiming for? To gain Taako’s trust, and act so supportive that Taako can’t help but reveal sensitive information during a late-night, emotionally vulnerable ramble?

No, Barry wouldn’t do that. If he wants information, it’s just because he’s worried about you.

“Well, this has been a great chat, Riding Robe,” Taako says with an exaggerated yawn. “But I’ve got to get to bed. You never know if tomorrow will end up being a long day of saving the world.”

“You do that,” the Red Robe tells him. “And remember, you can always call me back if you need to.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. G’night.”

***

Magnus’s body is gone, and it’s Barry’s fault.

(Strictly speaking, it’s the fault of the Animus Bell. It taunts him even now, tucked safely away in the possession of the Reclaimers, calling to him and promising to ensure his family survives when the Hunger comes. To bring Lup back from whatever worse-than-undeath fate she met. But Barry recognizes enough of his own voice in his Relic to know that it’s lying.)

Barry made the bell, he put it out into a world that was not his own, and both that world and his family paid dearly.

I’m going to find a way to get your body back, Magnus. I promise.

“I think we deserve some answers from you,” Magnus slowly declares, still holding his detached mannequin arm in his remaining hand. Surprisingly, he doesn’t seem angry — just tired.

Oh Magnus, you don’t know the half of it, Barry thinks. He doesn’t say anything, but he nods to Magnus and then holds out his hand, creating an illusory Stone of Farspeech in his skeletal palm.

And one by one, without exchanging any words between each other, the three Reclaimers hand their stones over — first Magnus, slowly and solemnly; then Merle, with a guilty look on his face; and finally Taako, hesitant as he begins to raise his hand but resolute by the time he plucks the stone from his ear.

Barry flicks his hand, and the devices shatter.

“I’ll buy you new ones soon,” he promises. “But let’s get you those answers first.”

#taz #taz balance #barry bluejeans #merle highchurch #taako taaco #magnus burnsides #taz balance spoilers #rosalia writes fic

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dotdotdottie · 5 years ago

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Use Your Anger || Dot & Josephine

Dot definitely doesn’t get into a fight and Josie definitely doesn’t break it up in this. That totally didn’t happen

@saintjosaphime

Of all the bars in town, Dell’s Tavern was usually the most tame. But considering the other options were a seedy punk bar, karaoke, and a choice between dives and dumps, there wasn’t much competition. Perhaps the Artesian, but that wasn’t a ‘decompress after work while looking for a companion to take home’ place. Dell’s was. Or, it could be. Which was why Josephine had made it a regular stop on Wednesday nights. Why Wednesday? Because people were tired on Wednesdays. On Wednesday, people realized there were still two days left in their miserable work weeks, and people were tired and prone to...letting things slip that normally wouldn’t. So every Wednesday, for quite some time, Josephine had been coming to Dell’s. The bartenders had turned over time and time again, over the years, but now there was another new one. Josephine had noticed her more so than any of the others because of that burrowing anger that seemed to rest inside of her. It wasn’t hidden, like most other peoples’ anger. And time and time again, when Josephine returned, she was there. Dot, was her name. A cute name. Josephine had parsed out a few things about her over time-- mostly that she was younger, going to school, and bartended to pay her way. And that her anger wasn’t just on show for Josephine. It was front and center, more than once.

Today, Josephine was sitting at the bar, with her gin and tonic, when two guys in the back started roughing each other. Loud, husky voices. Chairs scooting. Josephine’s eyes lit up a bit, and she honed in on Dot. What would the girl do, she wondered.

Lots of things were hard in life and generally, Dot didn’t consider work to be something difficult. She enjoyed bartending, lots of people to meet and talk to, lots of boys to potentially hunt too. It worked out well, but Wednesdays were always a hard day for her. It was her longest school day and then she came to work. Of course, she was tired, who wasn’t after days like her’s. Her irritability was especially strong lately because it had been so long since she had had a heart. She’d have to hunt sooner rather than later, the longer she waited, the messier she’d become and she liked White Crest. It had plenty of people to pick off and she didn’t want to be run out of another town just yet.

Of course, when the fight started up, her coworker was fucking useless. She glared at the two men as she slammed down the bottle she had been holding. Stalking over to them, she ground out,“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” When the two men didn’t respond, her face got a bit red and she shoved one in the chest. “Fucking fight outside you imbeciles.”

Oh, now this was interesting. Josephine sipped her drink idly, swirling the ice cubes around as she watched Dot stalk over to the two man babies probably having an argument about which IPA was better. Josephine shifted in her chair so that she could watch the interaction without being too obvious, keeping an eye on the young girl as she got in between the two, shoving one. Probably not the best way to react, shoulda threatened to stop serving them first, but sometimes lessons needed to be learned and not taught. It was only when one look to be about to shove Dot back, did Josephine move, ditching her drink quickly. Not quick enough. She wasn’t even halfway across the bar when the full fight finally broke out. And while she wished to pause and take in the anger filling the bar around her, there were more important things to get to right now.

When Dot got shoved back, she lost any self-control she had. “You fucking asshole, you’re gonna regret doing that!” Was she tempted to follow him home later and eat his heart while he slept? Yes. Would she do it? There was a very high chance. She swung at him, her fist connecting pretty solidly. The other man shoved her out of the way, saying shit about hitting a girl and her anger spiked even further. “I can take care of myself!” She yelled at them both, not caring in the slightest that they were causing a scene.

Oh dear. When Josephine had come here tonight, breaking up a brawl was not what she’d had in mind. But life was full of surprises, and 64 years on Earth had prepared Josephine for quite a few of them. One of them men tried to remove Dot from the scene, which, of course, only furthered her anger, and Josephine hurried her step. “Alright, let’s calm dow--” she started, stepping in, when a fist came out of nowhere and cracked across her jaw. Okay. Okay. Now she was mad. Eyes glowering, she turned back to face the three. The mood in the entire bar shifted. “Okay,” she said calmly, perhaps too calmly, “I’m going to pretend that didn’t happen.” Clicked her jaw, wiping the trickle of blood on her lip. “And in exchange,” she turned a sharp gaze onto the two towering men, “you’re going to pay this nice lady and leave.”

Being a female bartender came with a lot of perks, but there were plenty of men who tried to defend Dot when she didn’t want to be. However, a pretty lady defending her? She would always take that. Whoever she was, she held a lot of power. Dot could feel it about her and she liked it. The two men hurried to pull out their wallets and shove money at Dot before shuffling out the door. She whipped around to face the intimidating lady with a huge grin,“How did you do that? That was amazing.”

“And you,” Josephine said, whirling on Dot, “need to learn how to control that anger of yours.” She gave her a stern look. Everyone in the bar had gone back to pretending they hadn’t noticed anything, hiding behind their glasses and forks. “I did that, because I have control,” she said smoothly, brushing the front of her shirt where the fist had swiped, as if it were dirty. “Anger is not to be trifled with, but it must be mastered. Otherwise we might slip up. Right?” A knowing look at Dot.

Dot’s eyebrow furrowed. She thought she had handled the situation perfectly well considering. “I didn’t do that bad,” She replied, unable to keep the tiniest bit of a pout off her face. She considered the woman in front of her, she definitely seemed like she had a lot of control, but wasn’t that overrated? “How do you master being angry? I just am and it’s fun that way.” Her frown deepened as she realized the other woman was right. “Well, sometimes slip-ups just happen,” She said, trying to defend herself a bit.

“You let a full fight break out in the bar,” Josephine said simply, “at best, you could have lost your job. At worst…” she glanced around, then pulled the girl aside, ushering to follow her to a move secluded part of the bar. “Anger is fuel. Anger makes you stronger, it drives you, yes,” she said simply, “but you are full of anger that can be dangerous, to yourself. Slip-ups are what get people killed. And I’d hate to see that happen to someone like you.” She relaxed a little bit, trying not to be too tense. She still wasn’t 100% sure what this girl was, but it was something warm and...familiar. It kind of reminded her of her younger sister. “You’ve got so much potential,” she said absentmindedly.

“My coworker wasn’t helping,” Dot tried lamely. She didn’t like being scolded. “The owners like me, so I probably wouldn’t lose my job.” She did need this job though. Her family wasn’t sending her money anymore like they had at the beginning of her exile. “How do you know I’m so angry?” She asked, her voice a softer tone than she usually used. There was something about this lady that demanded to be listened to. It was intense, but Dot enjoyed it in a way. “You’re talking like you know me.”

“Because I do know you,” Josephine said, with a bit less fervor in her voice. She empathized with Dot, she found. With her anger at the world. Now, if Josephine could help her mold that anger, and direct it properly, then wasn’t that her obligation to? If she was the only one that could help her, didn’t it become her responsibility? “In a sense. I was….I used to know someone like you. Angry at the world, scorned by someone...they thought they could trust,” she said slowly, the memory of her sister trickling in like a bad movie playing behind her eyes. “Someone...not entirely human.” Her voice more low and hushed as she said it, unsure if Dot truly knew what she was. “I can feel it,” she said, a little more encouraging, “and it’s okay. I’m not either.”

Dot hadn’t had a person talk to her in a long time. Like they actually cared what happened to her. It was strange, but not completely unpleasant. She guessed she had missed it in a way. “How could you tell all that from me?” Dot knew she wore her emotions on her sleeve, but not many people were this confident enough to just simply call her out on it. Her lips opened a bit in surprise and then a brilliant grin bloomed across her face. “What are you?” She asked in a hurried whisper. “I’m a siren,” She told her, hoping that she would be one too. She missed being around other sirens, she missed the community they had.

“Let’s just say, your anger is quite palpable,” Josephine answered. “I’ve been watching you for a while. I could tell from the moment I saw you, you were something special.” The grin that spread on Dot’s face made Josephine’s heart fall a little. She was right, Dot was a siren, and the look on her face made her believe Dot was hopeful for something Josephine couldn’t quite give her. “I am something different,” she said quietly, “and rare, but powerful. I’m something that...has the power to help you.” She wasn’t sure the girl would even know if she told her, but for the interest of trust, she figured she owed her that much. “Erinyes. Do you know of those?”

“You can feel it?” Dot considered this information, empathic then. She was a bit proud of the fact that her anger was so intense people could feel it. Emotions were powerful. “You’ve been one of my regulars for a while. You been watching me the whole time?” Her grin slid off her face as she realized that she was still the lone siren in this town. It was fine, she had survived on her own this long, but she had just hoped that she’d be able to find family again. She shook her head,“I’ve never heard of those before. What do you do?”

“Yes, I can feel it. I’m...drawn to it, you could say,” Josephine answered, noting the smile falling off Dot’s face as soon as the realization set it. “I wish I could be what you want me to be, but I do know there are other sirens in this town. I have been watching you the whole time. You’re the most interesting thing about this place.” She gave a reassuring smile. “I help those who have been wrong seek retribution for their betrayer’s actions. I have magic beyond even your wildest imagination. The furies are two races of divine beings that have been chosen to punish those who wish to take advantage of others.”

Dot hadn’t ever heard of Erinyes (Erinyeses? Erini?), but she listened intently. Being drawn to anger seems super cool, she wondered what the gnarliest shit that this lady had seen. “There are others?” She asked, her excitement clear in her voice. Maybe it was different for other sirens who didn’t have a colony growing up, but Dot had waves of longing even though she was glad had freedom now. “Any betrayal?” She asked, her eyes wide thinking of how she could punish her family for leaving her on her own. “This insanely cool! What the fuck you’re so cool!”

Josephine gave a grin at that. She could feel the anger Dot had towards her family now as well. It was clear as day. Whatever had happened, Dot had been cast aside by the people who were supposed to love and care for her no matter what. Josephine knew the feeling all too well. It burned inside of her. “There are. I don’t know them personally, but I know they’re here. Have you been down to the Siren’s Serenade yet?” she asked, raising a brow. “Mostly any. I specialized in familiar betrayal. We have our own duties, this is mine. I watch over children and young adults.”

Dot pulled a face the mention of ‘Siren’s Serenade’, she had just thought the club was one of those bars that used the name without any meaning behind it. She had avoided the place based on the name alone, finding the whole thing irritating. “No. Isn’t one of those annoying bars that just uses the whole ‘White Crest is a weird place’ branding?” She got using that type of branding but she hated when Siren was connected to it. “So I fall under your category. In a few ways. Is that what made me so interesting to you?”

Josephine rolled her shoulders in a shrug. “Sort of. It might seem like a normal bar, but I promise it’s more than it seems. Irony is truly funny, sometimes,” she said, giving a little grin. “You were interesting to me because of a multitude of things, that being one, yes. But it was ultimately your...potential that I sensed that drew me to you.” She dug around in her purse a moment before pulling out a little card. It was her CPS Agency card and she held it out to Dot. “I think I could really help you. So if you think you want to learn, give me a call sometime.”

“I avoided the damn thing for no reason then,” Dot grumbled. She could have been trying to find sirens there all along if they just hadn’t named it something that pissed her off. Can’t people name bars normal things. She hummed as she took the card. She already knew she wanted to know as much as she could from this lady. At the very least, maybe she’d learn how to command a room as well as her one day. “I think it’ll take you up on it. I wanna learn. Plus you seem like a cool person to have around. I just can’t learn here. Since I’m working and all.”

“Don’t worry, it’s still there,” Josephine joked quietly. She gave a little shake of her head. “No, not here. But I’d like to see how you...do you thing at some point. It can help me understand how to best help you.” Now that Dot had taken the card, the deal was pretty much sealed. Josephine had her hook, line, and sinker, and she was going to make sure she could mold Dot as much as possible. It was unfortunate the girl couldn’t become like her, however. That would have been the ultimate win, but this could be a start. A trial run. She smiled. “Well, until then, wanna pour me another drink? I promise I leave a nice tip.”

#use your anger #chat log: josephine #wickedswriting

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anubislover · 5 years ago

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Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya Chapter 4: Citrus in the Sun

“So, tell me about your old captain.”

Nami looked up from the shirt she was altering to pay attention to her roommate. In just a month, she and Ikkaku had bonded splendidly, the engineer offering up her limited wardrobe to the navigator, even if the curly-haired beauty was much taller and not as well-endowed. Luckily, she gave Nami full permission to tailor a few of her old shirts to fit on the promise that they go shopping together after the next job. Law said he had something big planned, and everyone was eager to gain a little extra spending money.

“Old captain?”

Chin resting on her fist, the brunette grinned at her. “Yeah. I didn’t exactly get to talk to him, what with the life-threatening injuries and him grieving for his brother, but we’re all curious about Straw Hat. I mean, I can’t even imagine a guy crazy enough to punch a Celestial Dragon over a Fishman.”

It annoyed her slightly that, despite her repeated insistence that her position as their shipmate was temporary, the Heart Pirates treated her like she was fully part of their crew. They meant well, but it raised her hackles when they acted as if she was no longer a Straw Hat. “Luffy’s an odd one, that’s for sure. I guess the best way to describe him is pure and straightforward.”

Ikkaku wrinkled her nose. “‘Pure?’ Weird description for a pirate.”

“Yeah, it is, but I don’t mean in the sense that he’s all goodness and rainbows. He’s just…his wants and needs are uncomplicated. He loves his nakama, his dream is to be King of the Pirates, and he doesn’t care about your past—just how you act in the present. It’s the reason I choose to sail with him; normally, I hate pirates.”

“Why?”

Pursing her lips, Nami considered just how much to tell her new friend. The tattoo artist was fun and friendly and kind, but she wasn’t nakama. So, she settled on the essential details that hopefully wouldn’t invite more questions. “My mother was murdered by pirates, and they held my town hostage for years.”

Sympathy lined her face, mouth turning down at the corners. “I’m guessing the Marines didn’t do shit to help you.”

“A few tried but got killed for their efforts. Mostly, they were bribed to look the other way.”

“That sucks. I’m really sorry.” The words were simple but sincere, and it brought a small, appreciative smile to the navigator’s face.

“It’s in the past. Thanks to Luffy, everyone on the island is free and happy, and I’m out on the sea fulfilling my dream. He’s reckless and stupid and I’m pretty sure I’m going to get wrinkles before my time because of him, but I couldn’t ask for a better captain. I just have to make the most of these next two years so I’ll be strong enough to guide him through the New World.”

Ikkaku’s mouth twisted like she wanted to argue but held herself back. “Well, I’m glad he helped you out—otherwise, you’d still be stuck in that village, and we never would have met!” she said with a grin.

You have no idea, Nami thought to herself, standing up to slip on the now cropped button-down T-shirt. It was a bit tight at the top, necessitating the top three buttons remain open, but the pink and white plaid was super cute, and with her modifications it nicely accentuated her trim waist and ample bust. “How’d you end up on this ship, anyway?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.

Grabbing her bandana, Ikkaku playfully bumped her hip as they left the room. “Captain found me in a shit port town when the Polar Tang needed repairs. My boss at the time insisted the whole engine was about to fall apart and would need to be completely replaced. It was actually only a few parts, and I told him so. Boss was furious and sacked my ass, but Captain Law told me if I could fix it as easily as I said, he’d hire me on the spot. By the next day, I was officially a pirate.”

“What, so he didn’t just decide ‘she’s my engineer. I found her, so she’s mine’?” Nami asked, head tilted to the side in confusion.

“No, why would he?”

“Eh, Luffy just always seems to recruit people that way. No matter how you try to argue, once he decides you’re part of his crew, you’re done.”

“Not gonna lie, that actually sounds like a pretty pirate-like recruitment system.”

“Right? I think Brooke’s the only one who actually asked to join up—the rest of us were basically shanghaied.”

The two shared a hearty laugh as they parted ways, Ikkaku making her way to the engine room to oversee some maintenance, while Nami headed topside, determined to enjoy some fresh air. Shachi and Penguin had initially been reluctant to surface—they’d switched out the sub’s air earlier in the week and had no real need to do it again so soon—but she’d gone over their heads and appealed to Law, arguing that the last few times they’d done so, the weather had either been miserable, or they had to submerge again prematurely due to sighting a Navy ship. It was driving her bonkers, and Bepo was especially suffering. Luckily, the doctor had easily agreed, apparently considering the navigators’ comfort important enough to excuse the minor inconvenience.

Pushing open the steel door, she breathed in deeply, relishing the familiar scent of the sea and wind. It was a beautiful, sunny day and the crew was taking it as the perfect opportunity to decompress, both literally and figuratively. Bepo was particularly appreciative of the reprieve from the stuffy hull, having taken all the charts and maps onto the deck to work on. Sprawled on his belly, he carefully sketched out an island’s details like Nami had instructed, though it was clear from the way his eyelids kept drifting shut he was close to falling asleep. Meanwhile, Law lounged against him, head tilted back to absorb as much vitamin D as he could, fuzzy hat nowhere to be found. There was just enough of a breeze to keep Bepo’s fur from becoming uncomfortably hot, allowing the captain to fully enjoy this rare moment of relaxation.

The click of her heels against the metal deck woke him from a light doze, and he spared the Cat Thief a grin, nodding to the spot next to him against the bear. “Care to join us, Nami-ya?”

It never failed to surprise her whenever she caught Law using his navigator as a pillow. Though she’d finally accepted that, around his crew at least, there was more to the man than the sadistic monster the World Government made him out to be, it was still weird to see him do something so (dare she say it?) cute.

White teeth sank into her plump bottom lip as she considered his offer. On one hand, she enjoyed Bepo’s company; he was friendly, always grateful for her help, and so incredibly comfy she found herself wishing she could lay on him instead of her bed some nights. On the other hand, she’d have to sit next to Law. When there was work to be done, like plotting courses or planning supply runs, he maintained a respectful distance, treating her in a similar manner to his professionalism in the infirmary. But during downtown like this, she’d feel his sharp eyes lingering on her, his expression calculating before morphing into a lazy smirk once he realized she’d caught him. It put her on edge, not just because he was a dangerous man, but because his gaze never failed to ignite a small fire in her lower belly. She did her best to brush it off, reminding herself that, attractive though he may be, he was Luffy’s rival, his intentions towards her were still unknown, she didn’t mix business with pleasure, and no man was worth risking the safety of her nakama for.

Too bad none of that stopped the warm tingles of lust that sparked at his come-hither smirk or ostensibly innocent touches.

Sensing her reluctance, the surgeon pulled out his trump card; a small basket of ripe mikans. “Care for one? The cook got these on the last island, but said if they’re not eaten soon, they’ll go bad. I’d hate to see them go to waste.”

A sudden burst of homesickness washed over her; not just for Cocoyashi, but for her mikan grove aboard the Sunny. Unconsciously, her feet moved forward, and she soon found herself snuggled up against Bepo, the rough denim of Law’s jeans brushing against her bare leg; he’d moved little more than an inch to grant her room, not even bothering to hide the way his eyes trailed along the pale skin of her thighs exposed by her white shorts. Her own eyes narrowed in annoyance, but it quickly dissipated as he handed her the bright orange fruit.

“Eat up, Nami-ya; an apple a day keeps the doctor away,” Law chuckled before going back to sunning himself, a victorious smirk lifting the corner of his lip.

As much as she wanted to be aggravated at his teasing, the citrus scent tickled her nose enticingly as she instinctively began peeling the mikan. Mouth watering at the deliciously familiar smell, she licked her lips in anticipation before biting into a succulent slice.

She was in heaven the second the juices hit her tongue; the mikan was perfectly ripe, with a fresh tang that balanced out the sweetness beautifully. The cook was absolutely correct when he said they needed to be eaten now. Even a day later and they’d begin going over-ripe and soft, becoming saccharine and not as pleasant to eat. A little moan escaped her as the bits of flesh burst between her teeth, crewing carefully to savor every last moment.

A low laugh in her ear broke her from her mikan nirvana. “Sounds like you’re enjoying that, Nami-ya,” Law whispered suggestively, reaching over to boldly steal a slice.

Hot red spread across her cheeks as she tried to smack his hand away, but he was too quick. Not that it would have really stopped him; another thing she’d learned was that he wasn’t above using his powers for petty, inconsequential reasons, especially when he was in a playful mood. She’d seen him move his crew’s tools around, switch sugar for salt, and a few other things that were surprisingly juvenile. Part of her wanted to roll her eyes, but another part was mildly comforted by it; it was similar to how Luffy would use his Gomu Gomu abilities to steal food from the other side of the table or swing around the ship. Such frivolity painted a slightly lighter picture of the infamous Surgeon of Death.

“Hey Nami!” Shachi called as he practically skipped over, Penguin in tow. Despite the initial reluctance to surface, both seemed more chipper now that they were above water, the beautiful day doing its job. “Enjoying yourself?”

She shrugged, managing to force down her blush and replacing it with a carefree grin. “I’ve got sunshine, mikans, and Bepo as a pillow, so the day’s off to a good start.”

“Hey, I was wondering if you could clear up a rumor for me,” Penguin began, eyeing the fruit. “Do you really have mikan trees on your ship?”

Popping another slice in her mouth, she chirped, “Yup! They’re from my family’s mikan grove. I know it sounds odd, but it’s extremely beneficial; I get to carry a little piece of home with me wherever I go, and the crew has a ready supply of fruit so we’re safe from scurvy, vitamin deficiencies, and colds. It’s a struggle keeping Luffy from eating them all, but Sanji-kun’s developed at least sixteen different mikan dishes for me.” A frown tugged at her lips, both at the memory and a sudden thought. “I wonder if anyone’s caring for them now. They might all be dead by the time I get back.”

Though the sun shone brightly, the men could tell her mood had darkened. Clearing his throat, Shachi said, “I’m sure someone’s looking after them! What about that mermaid and octopus guy? Considering Straw Hat saved them from slavery, it’s the least they can do, right?”

Bepo was quick to chime in behind her, “Sabaody’s weather is consistently tropical, so I’m sure they’ll at least get watered. You’ll probably just have some pruning and stuff to do when you get back.”

The possibility that her trees might survive lifted her spirits a bit, and Penguin added, “Honestly, I’m kind of jealous. Wish we could have an orchard on the sub!”

Even though it was obviously just a ploy to distract her from melancholy thoughts, Nami was grateful. Rubbing her chin, she said, “Well, I doubt you could fit any trees, but maybe you could set up a greenhouse and garden? With how hot and steamy it gets in some of the rooms, you could potentially make a biodome and grow tropical plants.”

“That’s a good idea.” Scratching his muzzle, Bepo continued, “The engineering team has been developing some lights that simulate sunlight. Captain ordered it because when we’re underwater too long, the lack of sun causes some of the crew to get depressed, kind of like Seasonal Affective Disorder.”

Nami hummed thoughtfully. No wonder convincing him to surface had been so easy. “I can imagine. My body’s still adjusting to the lack of discernable day and night down there.”

Penguin nodded in agreement. “It’s easier when you’re from more wintery islands; we’re already used to days with less sunlight. Still, I’m liking the garden idea. Plants would supply more oxygen. We wouldn’t have to come up to switch out the air as often.”

“What?” the Mink said, panicking. “I take it back; it’s a bad idea! I don’t want to be stuck in the stuffy sub for longer!”

“Quit being such a baby!” Shachi scolded as Penguin rolled his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he replied, a dark cloud of gloom surrounding him.

“I’m with Bepo,” Nami defended, reaching behind her to scratch behind his ear comfortingly. “Even with the plants recycling the CO2, your ship gets hot and claustrophobic. You may be used to it, but I sure as hell get stir-crazy after only a few days. You’re lucky I didn’t hijack the helm and bring us topside earlier.”

The two men shuffled their feet, contrite. “Sorry, Nami.”

Pleased to see the duo had been brought to heel, the beautiful navigator bit down on another piece of fruit, sucking at the juices gently. Movement out of the corner of her eye captured her attention; she’d nearly forgotten Law was there, as he’d stayed quiet throughout the conversation, but gold eyes now bore into her. The heat of his stare trailed down to where the sliver of mikan dangled past her lips, and Nami swallowed harshly. He looked…hungry, and not for the tangy fruit.

“I think a garden could be extremely beneficial,” he finally drawled. “I certainly wouldn’t complain about having fresh medicinal herbs at my disposal. We can clear out one of the storage rooms, maybe install some extra windows and sprinklers. It’s a clever idea.” Taking another mikan slice from her unresisting hand, he bit into it, tongue running along his lips to catch the juices. Hearing her breath catch slightly at the action, he smirked, honey eyes hooded and pleased. “I knew I was right to recruit you.”

Scoffing to hide her discomfort, she looked away. “Well, you’ve only got eleven months left to take advantage of my brilliance. After that, you’ll have to figure things out for yourself again.”

“Oh, don’t worry; I’ve got plenty of ideas on how to make the most of our time together.” He turned back to his oldest friends. “Why don’t you two run down and tell the engineering team about Nami-ya’s suggestion? I’m want them to start planning as soon as possible.”

“Yes sir!”

As the pair scurried off, Bepo let out a mighty yawn, and a few minutes later began softly snoring. It was no surprise; the sun had grown much warmer as they’d talked, and napping was the bear’s default method of dealing with the heat. Law chuckled before pulling off his hoodie, revealing a tight, black tank top.

Much as Nami wanted to ignore the sudden excess of skin, her eyes lingered on the scrolling tattoos across his arms and chest. She knew he had more than the ones normally exposed on his hands and forearms, but she hadn’t expected them to take up most of his chest and biceps. Nor had she expected the design; when Ikkaku had said she’d tattooed hearts on him, she’d expected something more anatomically correct, possibly with the individual parts labeled like in a medical textbook. Instead, they were bold, intricate, had an almost primal beauty, and were vaguely familiar.

“See something you like, Nami-ya?” he asked, preening at her rapt attention.

“Your tattoos just…my sister has a similar design.” Remembering the day Nojiko had come home with the swirling, indigo pattern made her smile. She’d been horrified at the time, but it was a touching act of solidarity on her older sister’s part, making her feel slightly better about the horrid Jolly Roger branded on her shoulder.

Law blinked, surprised at the answer. “Is she a pirate, too?”

“No, she’s back home taking care of Bellmere’s mikan grove.”

“And that’s in Cocoyashi, right? In the East Blue?”

“Yeah, so?”

One shoulder lifted in a nonchalant shrug, though his grin had an edge of cruelty. “You should be more careful what you reveal about yourself; you never know what could be used against you. For example, since I know you have a sister and where she is, I could potentially threaten her to ensure your compliance.”

A month ago, she would have completely flipped at the thinly veiled threat, but she’d gotten better at calling his bluffs. “You could, but you won’t—it wouldn’t be beneficial to our working relationship. After all, I’m as protective of my loved ones as you are of your crew. If I really thought you were a threat to my sister, I wouldn’t hesitate to end you.”

“That’s assuming you have the guts to kill me. I doubt you’ve ever taken a life.”

Thoughts of her numerous failed attempts to murder Arlong danced across her mind. “Not for lack of trying. And I don’t have get my hands dirty to take you out; Devil Fruit users risk death just by being at sea. I could potentially shove you overboard or lead the ship into a storm, and you’d be at the bottom of the ocean before anyone even realized.”

His smirk relaxed as he propped his arms on his knees. “That you could. It’s amazing the lengths we’ll go to for the ones we love. Mugiwara-ya was willing to storm Impel Down and take on the Marines for his brother, even if they weren’t blood.”

Secure in the knowledge that Nojiko would not be targeted by the Surgeon of Death, Nami tucked her legs underneath her, leaning against Bepo to get more comfortable. “Someone doesn’t have to be blood to be family,” she stated, idly playing with her bracelet.

“No, they don’t,” he agreed. “Whitebeard was a perfect example. When I heard he called his crew his sons, I spent years believing it was just a tactic to manipulate them into blind loyalty. But the deeper I dug, the more I realized it was legitimate. The man truly gave that much of a shit for the men that followed him.” His expression darkened. “On the other hand, I’ve known plenty of sick bastards that would shoot their own brother without a moment’s hesitation.”

Sensing his train of thought would likely lead them down an unpleasant path, Nami diverted, “I wish I could have met Whitebeard. And spent more time with Ace. Luffy clearly adored his big brother, and he was so incredibly polite. Should have been my first hint they weren’t related.” A sad smile touched her lips. Their brief time with the Fire Fist in Alabasta had been illuminating, and she doubted her captain’s goofy grin could have been any bigger with him around. “You, know, he actually asked Luffy to join the Whitebeard Pirates,” she laughed. “As if Luffy’d ever let someone else be captain!”

The smirk returned to the Dark Doctor’s face, chin resting in his palm. “It’s for the best he didn’t. For all the man’s virtues, Whitebeard had a problem with taking on female crewmembers. You probably wouldn’t be invited to join him.”

“Then Luffy definitely would have refused. After all the trouble he went through to make me his navigator, he wouldn’t just toss me aside.”

A midnight blue eyebrow raised, intrigued. “Now that sounds like a story.”

“Yeah, but it’s one you haven’t earned the right to hear yet,” she huffed, reaching across him to snag another mikan. “At least, not from me. If Luffy was as loose-lipped as you claim, he probably babbled the whole thing.”

“Hmmm, mostly he just talked about how great his crew was, nothing about how he roped you into service. Even if he did, I’d much rather hear it from you—fewer interruptions by agonized screams.”

Delicate fingers paused halfway through peeling the fruit, chest tightening as she remembered that Luffy hadn’t been casually trading stories with Law over a drink—he’d been on death’s door, suffering physically and mentally, and Nami hadn’t been there for him. None of them had. She’d been off with the weather wizards, and yeah, going there hadn’t been her choice, but she should have tried harder to leave Weatheria the second she heard about Ace’s impending execution. She knew how far Luffy’d go for his loved ones, knew where the inevitable battle would be, and instead she’d stayed on the floating island, fooling herself into thinking he would be fine without her.

She’d never been ashamed of her instinct to run away from a fight, but she doubted there’d be a single day in the next two years that she didn’t curse her cowardice.

The mood once more threatened to darken, so Law summoned his Room and switched the discarded mikan peel for a bottle of sunscreen. Breaking her from her guilty thoughts, he nudged her with the tube. “Someone as pale as you is susceptible to sunburn, Nami-ya. Put this on.”

Logical as it was, she bristled at the order. “I doubt I’ll be out here long enough to even tan.”

He shifted away from the still-sleeping Bepo to sit across from her, the heat of the day finally making his favorite spot uncomfortable. “Surfacing was your idea, and we’ll be submerging before dinner, so you’d best enjoy the sunshine while you can.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Scoffing, Law proceeded to squeeze some of the white liquid into his palm before rubbing it onto the back of his neck. His smirk turned mischievous, however, and he reached over to flick a few sticky globs onto her face.

“Yeek! What are you—!”

He laughed at her outrage. “You were being stubborn. I’m sure the last thing you want is to be horribly disfigured by skin cancer, so do as I say and put on the sunblock.” His piercing eyes grew hooded as he studied the white droplets splattered across her chin and cheeks. Leaning closer, he whispered, “At the very least, you should rub that in before someone sees you and gets the wrong idea.”

Heat blossomed across her face that had nothing to do with sunburn. She didn’t need a mirror to know what he was implying. Frantically, she rubbed at her face, fuming at his dirty trick. The orders were bad enough, but the innuendos, combined with that golden gaze, made her uncomfortably aware of how easily he managed to get the best of her. She was a lot more used to blatant perversion, like Brooke’s requests to see her panties, than Law’s more subtle double-entendres. In fact, she was surprised to find them harder to ignore, as they made her pick apart his every word and action, trying to figure out if he was hitting on her or not.

Enough is enough! she thought, a devilish gleam twinkling in her eye. It’s time to teach him that nobody teases like Cat Thief Nami! When her service began, she’d been too scared of the potential consequences to give as good as she got, but after a month of his flirting and touches and teasing, she was at her breaking point. She might not mix business with pleasure, but revenge with pleasure was fair game.

Studying her target, her clever mind began forming a devious plan. Scooting forward so she was directly across from him, she traced the tips of her fingers over the heart on his right arm. “Did Ikkaku do these?” she asked, eyes widened slightly to give the illusion of innocent wonder.

The way his eyebrow raised indicated he didn’t believe her act for a second, but the curve of his lips made it clear he wasn’t worried about a trap and was going to milk the sudden attention for all it was worth. “Yeah. Hiring her was one of my best decisions—I got an engineer and a tattoo artist all in one.”

Light as a butterfly’s wing, she trailed over his shoulder to the swirls across his collarbone. The tip of her index finger slipped beneath the neck of his tank top, tugging gently. “I’d love to see them all. Would you mind taking off your shirt?”

He closed his eyes briefly, amusement painted plainly on his face. “If you want to see them so much, how about you do it for me?” he suggested lowly, sitting up straight and smirking down at her in challenge.

Poking the pink tip of her tongue out playfully, she shifted onto her knees before running her hands down his chest, tugging the bottom of the shirt out of his jeans before slowly pulling upward. Inch by inch smooth skin and hard planes of muscle were revealed, the elaborate heart tattoo trailing elegantly across his pecs and abs. The whistle she let out was genuine—the shirtless man before her really was quite striking.

She sat back on her heels, taking a moment to admire him. He wasn’t quite as ripped as Zoro, but he definitely had a swordsman’s physique. She could easily imagine him doing one-armed pushups, sweat dripping down his sides, muscles rippling like an unsettled pond. Picking up a slice of fruit, she bit into it a little too hard, the citrus juices spilling all over her fingers.

Sharp gold irises honed in on the way the pale orange drops trailed down her palm to her wrist, and his Adam’s apple visibly bobbed. “Are you usually this messy an eater, Nami-ya?”

She gave him an embarrassed smile. “Not usually. I guess the heat’s getting to me.” Looking away, she stroked the tip of her tongue up her forearm, cleaning up the sticky streak. She could feel the intense way his eyes followed the movement, and when she met his gaze, the hunger had returned full force.

“Mind if I have another mikan slice?” he rasped.

Despite knowing he could easily get it himself, she nodded coyly, holding out a particularly fat and ripe piece mere inches from his mouth. When he leaned in to take it between his teeth, she pulled back, instead teasingly biting into it, more juices flowing over her lips and onto her fingertips.

She didn’t expect his arms to shoot out like vipers, hands grasping her hips to pull her onto his lap. She was forced to straddle his thigh to keep her balance, and she still nearly fell over in shock as he leaned down, lips less than a centimeter from touching her own as he stole half the dangling fruit straight from her mouth.

Never before had she imagined someone could chew smugly, but as he pulled away, that was exactly what he was doing. “Don’t play games you’re not prepared to do anything to win, Nami-ya,” he purred.

Idly, she draped her arms over his shoulders, tracing the tips of her wet fingers along his upper back in light, delicate patterns. “Are we playing a game, Law-kun?” she asked breathily.

The gleam in his eyes was answer enough, as was the way his palms trailed across the soft skin of her exposed waist.

Leaning back, she studied his naked torso through half lidded brown eyes, sucking the remaining mikan juices off her fingers. “I really do like your tattoos. Do you want me to put some sunscreen on them? I’d hate for you to get burned and risk the ink getting distorted.”

“That’d be much appreciated, Nami-ya.”

The pink tip of her tongue peeked out to wet her lips as she grabbed the nearby bottle, squeezing the coconut-scented cream onto her hands. Just as her palms made contact with his pectorals, his scorching hands encircled her wrists, pinning them there.

She looked up at him in surprise, to which he easily chuckled. “Just making sure your hands don’t stray anywhere inappropriate. I know how hard it is for you to resist the temptation of getting your hands on a man’s wallet.”

“Don’t you trust me, Law-kun?”

“I trust you to be a scheming little minx,” he replied, tone deceptively affectionate.

Her lower lip stuck out in a pout, though she quickly smoothed out her expression when his molten stare fixated on it, looking for all the world like he wanted to lean down and capture it between his teeth. Pushing away the thought that she wouldn’t exactly mind it, she focused on her task.

Up, down, and across her hands traveled, massaging the sunscreen into Law’s skin as his hands shamelessly guided her. His flesh was tantalizingly hot and deliciously smooth, a few faint scars visible now that she was so close. His muscles rippled as he flexed casually, and Nami was pleased when she felt his heart speed up when her fingers “accidentally” flicked a dusky nipple. Curious, she lightly scraped her nails over the ridges of his abdominal muscles, smirking when they jumped under her ministrations, a low rumble, almost like a purr, echoing through his chest.

“You’re looking a little flushed, Nami-ya,” he whispered in her sensitive ear, steamy breath smelling faintly of mikans. “Is the sun what’s getting you hot and bothered, or me?”

Looking up at him through long, dark lashes, she replied, “Definitely the sun. It takes a lot more than rubbing a guy’s chest to make me weak in the knees.”

“Ah, there’s the Cat Thief I know. You were acting so demure, I was beginning to wonder if your brain got fried.” His devilish grin turned smug. “Or were you hoping to get a little payback with the sunscreen?”

“Maybe I just wanted an excuse to feel you up,” she quipped, giving a cat-like smile.

“If you wanted that, you should have just asked. I’m happy to oblige.”

“Aw, but where’s the fun in that?”

“Good point.” At last, not a speck of white remained on her palms, so Law reluctantly released his hold on her. “Want me to return the favor?” he murmured, letting the tips of his fingers suggestively caress her bare midriff.

Though red still stained her cheeks, Nami managed to maintain her composure as she carefully stood up. One of her legs had started to fall asleep, and she didn’t need the Heart captain thinking he really had made her weak in the knees. “Nah, I think I’m going to go back inside for a bit. I’m feeling a little thirsty.”

With the woman out of his arms, Law rolled his shoulders, working out the stiffness that had started to form. “Fair enough. If you change your mind, the offer still stands.”

Before she could respond, one of the men called out from the lower deck, “Hey Captain! We need your opinion on something!”

Getting up with all the grace of a tiger, he lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Duty calls. Don’t stay inside all day, though; I can’t promise we’ll be surfacing again soon, and I don’t need you suffering from a vitamin D deficiency.” With that, he activated his Room, teleporting himself down onto the lower deck.

As she turned to go inside, motion caught her eye, and she found Bepo watching her, eyebrows raised in surprise.

Giving a catty wink, she pressed her finger to her lips in a shushing motion before gathering up Law’s hoodie, tank top, and the rest of the mikans, leaving one behind for the sleepy Mink to enjoy.

“I’ll just toss these in the laundry for him. I’d hate for them to blow overboard.”

“I guess it’s too hot for him to put them back on,” Bepo agreed hesitantly.

Her smile was sunny and painfully obvious. “Exactly! And fewer clothes means he’ll get exposed to more vitamin D, so I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

Shrugging as he watched Nami skip away, the polar bear settled back down to resume his nap. Law was his best friend and his captain but considering how shamelessly he’d been teasing the Cat Thief, he was pretty sure the Dark Doctor deserved whatever Nami had in store. Besides, she was the reason the crew even agreed to surface in the first place—Bepo owed her his silence, just this once.

XXX

As the crew sat down to breakfast the next morning, Nami was startled by a large, firm hand gripping her shoulder as a voice whispered harshly in her ear, “That was very clever, Nami-ya.”

Forcing her heart to slow, she glanced up at Law with a smirk. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Somehow, the scowl on his face deepened. “Then the sunburn on my back, despite me clearly remembering putting sunscreen there, wasn’t your fault?”

“Oh dear,” she gasped, “maybe the fruit juices on my fingers washed it away.”

“And maybe someone who grew up in a mikan grove would know that the juice from citrus fruits, when exposed to sunlight and bare skin, can cause sunburn?”

“You know, you’re right!” she said, planting a fist in her palm. Batting her eyelashes innocently, she smiled. “But surely you don’t think I’d do such a thing on purpose?”

“You’re the one who so generously brought my hoodie inside to be laundered. Without asking for payment, I might add. Quite suspicious.”

“I considered the mikans you gave me payment enough. And it’s not like I stole them away—Bepo told you what I did with them, and you easily could have gone inside for another shirt. Instead, you spent the rest of the day outside with insufficient protection. Rather silly of a doctor, wouldn’t you say?”

Law’s glare told her he knew he’d been played and was already planning his revenge. “Just remember payback is a bitch.”

The whole crew had a hard time containing their sniggers as Law stormed out of the galley. Now everyone could see why he was so mad—across his shoulders, just above the neckline of his tank top was the word BREAD in shiny, red, sunburned letters.

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miraculousmidnightreviews · 6 years ago

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The Trials of Apollo #3: The Burning Maze Book Review

By Rick Riordan

5/5 stars

Summary: After waking up as a mere mortal, Apollo must navigate Zeus’ punishment as he and his demigod companion/master Meg travel to San Francisco to rescue a third oracle from the clutches of yet another Roman emperor that is not quite dead. With the help of some familiar faces and friendly nature spirits, Apollo continues to understand the hardships of the demigods and must learn the stakes are much higher than the loss of his seat on Olympus.

Apollo’s Character Development

In the previous books of the Trials of Apollo series, Apollo’s character was more of a means to an end for me. He provided a good laugh, but he wasn’t a hero. Not in the way that I was used to at least. Going into the series, I expected a Percy Jackson type or even Percy himself. Does anyone else have that problem? In every series written by Riordan, whether Greek mythology or other, I always want Percy to jump in and save the day. I live and breathe Percy Jackson, and I would totally be okay if every book just turned into another PJO novel. But alas, that cannot be.

Back to Apollo though: In fight scenes, he normally doesn’t get in on the action until the final blow must be struck or until he remembers something helpful from his years as a god. In that way, he’s sort of a looking glass for the reader; he sees and interacts with characters I care more about. It wasn’t until this book did I finally find a connection to Apollo. It takes some work and certain demigods to bring his pompous ass back to the mortal realm but it happens. Because of this shift in him, The Burning Maze becomes more than just another journey to secure another oracle. I foresee the book as a turning point in the series, one that Riordan can never go back from.

Plot Structure

Rick Riordan has a unique way of structuring his books that has become apparent to me over the years. A classic Riordan book normally includes a beginning chapter that plants the reader right in the middle of the action (and this books does not lack that) along with a few chapters to decompress, all the while learning new information that may aid the main characters in their journeys, a sprinkle of character development, and maybe a hint of a good ole plot twist. The pattern continues like this: a few chapters where action-packed battle scenes filled with heroism entice the reader, and then, as the fighting winds down, a few chapters follow as the characters gather to strategize, impart some wisdom and whatnot as the sequence replays once again.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve found it harder to remain focused while reading Riordan’s novels, which is a given considering they’re aimed at a middle grade audience. However, The Burning Maze was a delightful surprise in regards to my attention span. I couldn’t seem to put it down despite how hard I tried. Yes, it may be cliché to say that, but there is some truth in clichés. Riordan’s new novel followed, well, a plot that wasn’t predictable at all in terms of structure. The storyline felt more nuanced as not one but two major conflicts drove the characters forward. The chapters didn’t lead up to an epic Riordan-esque final battle. Without spoiling, the plot for me hastened towards two pivotal moments, each a hundred pages apart. One was completely expected and one was not.

The Side Characters! (minor spoilers in this section)

First of all, I never really cared about Meg, but this book really changed my perception of both her and Apollo. They make a strange duo, and yet it somehow works. As Meg and Apollo search for the third oracle, they find a group of nature spirits that need their help and are somehow connected to their quest. The interactions between Meg and these nature spirits as well as revelations about her past turn a once prickly character into someone more tolerable, even enjoyable. The care that both Meg and Apollo have towards each other along with their funny banter really makes their relationship more relatable.

As soon as I read the end of the preceding book, I couldn’t wait to see what our good friend Grover had been up to since the original PJO series. His role as a guide brought back some major feels, especially as he helped the mains navigate the Labyrinth. I enjoyed reading about this character again, and I’m glad he wasn’t anything more than their guide. Riordan perfectly balanced his role and appearances in the book.

Piper has grown so much as a character, and it’s really noticeable in this book. What’s interesting about The Trials of Apollo is that the series shows us characters we know and love through the perspective of a fresh face. Seeing Piper take on more responsibility and aid Apollo on a quest instead of being the demigod on the quest was extremely different but quite enjoyable. It was such a bittersweet moment for me to read about her again. For those who might have found her annoying in the HoO series, I think you may like her better as a side character. Apollo somewhat idolizes everyone because they are more capable than him and that makes them more admirable.

WOW, Piper and Jason?! Two mains from previous books in more than just a few scenes? I am truly living life here. Thanks Uncle Rick. I’ll be honest, I never liked Jason Grace. At one point, I truly despised him. He annoyed me. But now that he’s not constantly pitted against my fav Percy, I have developed a newfound respect and fondness for his character. Once again, it’s truly amazing to see these characters from my childhood grow up. They’re figuring out their lives and going to school. It made my eyes water a little at the bittersweetness of it all.

I don’t want to spoil too much but Coach, Mellie, and their kid are adorable. That is all.

Thanks for reading! We hoped you enjoyed our non-spoilery review! Come back later for the spoilery stuff, or keep reading at your own risk! Check out our other reviews here.

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

The Death of Jason Grace

Jason dies wtf

nothing else matters

JASON GRACE IS FUCKING DEAD

HOW CAN MY CHILDHOOD BE RUINED LIKE THIS?!

LIKE WHAT i am still shooketh how can this possible be?!

Okay I avoided writing this review for a few weeks because of Jason Grace. It honestly shocked me. At first, I didn’t know how to react. I cried a little. My childhood character, despite my past hatred for him, had been killed. Then I was furious. How could Rick Riordan do this to me? To the fandom? All we want is for our precious babies to be happy. THEY DESERVE TO BE HAPPY! And yet a hero never gets what he deserves.

After reflecting on it, I now understand the necessity of Jason’s death. Before this book, I didn’t really take this series seriously, and gurl, was that a big mistake. After reading The Hidden Oracle, I considered Apollo’s adventures as a joyride down memory lane. Oh look, over there, is that Percy in Camp Half-Blood? Leo and Calypso riding Festus? Piper and Jason living in San Fran? I loved it. The nostalgia was overwhelming and I couldn’t read them fast enough. But that soon ended with the murder of both Jason Grace and my soul. Now, the stakes are raised and I’ve learned from my mistakes. Riordan knows how to draw in the readers. I should have seen this coming, and yet, like that unforgettable drop into Tartarus, these characters and I will never be the same.

Another thing about Jason’s death: it really hurt. I just needed to reiterate that I felt physical pain in my chest while reading that scene, almost like I was the one being impaled instead of Jason. And to make it worse, Caligula didn’t just impale Jason and then leave. Oh no, Rick just had to make Caligula stab him again for good measure. Rub in the finality of his death with each jab of his golden spear. Jason was the perfect hero to die and that made everything a hundred times worse. He followed the rules. He was truly good. Which made it all the more heartbreaking when his adherence to the rules wasn’t enough to save his life.

ANOTHER thing: the fuck you mean Piper and Jason broke up? Yeah, not everyone can be Percabeth but really? I found myself shipping them more while they were separated than when they were actually dating. Damn, this book was pretty good. And Piper never had a final goodbye? AND LEO?! HE LITERALLY FLEW TO MEET THEM ONLY TO FIND JASON DEAD? I had to reread some of HoO because of this terrible nostalgia, and it just made me think: was that the last time they were all together? During the battle against Gaea? And now that will be the very last time, because Jason Grace is dead. And like I said before, there’s just no going back.

Thanks for reading! We hoped you enjoyed both our non-spoilery and spoilery reviews! Check out our other reviews here!

—Alexa

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whumpstation · 6 years ago

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Whumptober Day 3 - Insomnia

So this is number 2 for the night. this one kind of got away from me, especially the beginning part, but oh well. XD Insomnia is one of my favorite things to write, probably because I suffer from it so often that it feels good to torture my favorite characters with it. Once again, only proofed once, so any mistakes are mine and will be fixed later. I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think! I love reading comments!

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Whumptober Day 3 - Insomnia

Series: Stargate Atlantis

Words: 2037

ETA: ~ 2 hours

He couldn’t breathe! The water…it was rising to fast. He was going to drown! He thought he might’ve had a chance; that they would’ve gotten to him in time, but he had to admit to himself that he was indeed wrong this time. Help wasn’t coming, and Rodney McKay really hated being wrong. However, he hated dying even more than being wrong. It was pretty close between the two if he was honest with himself – dying and being wrong. It flipped back and forth from day to day, but right now dying was absolutely number one on his ‘I hate this’ list. What’s worse was that he was going to die alone. Alone, in the dark, underwater – cold, numb and scared out of his mind. He wished he could at least have someone to talk to before he drowned. It wouldn’t have saved him, but it would’ve given him some comfort to have a friendly voice to send him to oblivion.

The water was almost to his nose, and he knew that any second it would submerge him completely. He couldn’t help but panic, breathing through his nose as fast and as deeply as he could. It was nonsensical, but he couldn’t help but take in the last precious seconds of air. Then the water engulfed him in its cold embrace and he went from panic to complete freak out in 1.2 seconds. He thrashed as he held his breath and tried desperately to find a way out of the jumper, even though he knew it was hopeless. He couldn’t make it to the surface with what little air was in his lungs, and even if he could, he would have no time to decompress on the way up, and he would die from the Benz before he even made it to the surface.

It was probably only seconds, but it felt like an eternity later when he felt his lungs begin to burn and strain against his chest. Begging him for oxygen; begging him to breathe! He tried his best to convince them that that was a VERY bad idea, but they eventually overrode him, and he took an involuntary breath in – instantly choking on the water that now flooded his lungs. That started a vicious cycle of trying to expel the water, only for more to flood back in. It was torture in as true a sense of the word could mean, and Rodney soon felt himself slipping away.

His final thoughts were of his colleagues, his team, his friends, and his sister. How he wished he could’ve said goodbye. Could’ve told them how much they actually meant to him. How much he enjoyed their companionship, friendship and love. An eerie kind of peace swelled through Rodney for a moment and he clung to it for as long as he could, before his body made one more ditch effort to try to survive. He thrashed once more in the thick water, but eventually everything just faded away.

Rodney bolted up in his chair with a strangled gasp. He had to grip the table before him to keep from falling to the floor. His breathing was harsh and much too quick to be considered normal, and he would hate to have Carson see him right now. The genius shivered as he locked his eyes on the far wall of his lab in Atlantis and did the breathing exercises that helped him so well in times of stress.

‘It’s okay. You’re not underwater. You didn’t drown. John and Radek saved you. Stop being stupid! You’re fine.’ Rodney mentally berated himself as he slowly but surely got his breathing under control. This was getting ridiculous. It had been week since the jumper incident, and yet he was still having these nightmares every time he closed his eyes. He knew he should go talk to someone, tell someone, but he was figured he could just as well just work himself into a coma and accomplish almost the same thing. He was fairly certain the nightmares would stop – eventually – and then he could just get on with his life. However, the nightmares where getting worse every night. He was so tired from only being able to sleep a few minutes here and there that it was beginning to show. He couldn’t survive on catnaps; he knew it and he knew that his friends knew it.

He was so caught up in his musings that he didn’t hear the door swish open and footsteps make their way over to his side. Only when he felt a hand on his shoulder did he notice that someone was there, and quite violently at that. Rodney gasped, and spun his head around to see how was there, only to be overtaken by a head rush of massive proportions and sway dangerously on his work chair. He was certain he would’ve fallen had the person with him not had such good grip on him. After the room stopped spinning, Rodney opened his eyes and came face to face with a very concerned Colonel John Sheppard.

“McKay? Are you alright there, buddy?” John asked almost hesitantly, as he looked McKay up and down a few times. Man, he looked like crap. The bags under his eyes would be considered carryon at this point, and he looked like he hadn’t had a good meal in ages. John had been concerned before, what with McKay virtually disappearing after being released from the infirmary a few days ago. He tried to corner the man several times, but McKay always seemed to have a knack for avoiding him when he wanted to. John decided here and now though, by whatever means necessary, he would get his Rodney McKay back.

Rodney stared blankly at John for a minute longer than he probably should have. His brain sluggish in trying to understand the question it was being asked, and why John was even there in the first place. The military man avoided the labs whenever he could. It made no sense why he would come down on his own, unless something was wrong. Oh! Something was wrong! Maybe the city was under attack, or sinking! He had to help! McKay tried to get to his feet, only to have them fold like partially set jello beneath him. Once again he found himself being supported by the Air Force Colonel, and set back on his seat.

“Whoa there McKay! Take it easy. Where do you think you’re going in such a rush?” John asked as he looked critically into Rodney’s eyes.

“The…the city. Have…to help,” Rodney croaked out as he shook his head to clear the fog that had suddenly settled there. He couldn’t lose it now, the city, the expedition needed him.

John looked confused. “The city? The city’s fine, buddy, for once. Nothing needs fixing or saving at the moment. We’re all good – well, maybe not all of us. When was the last time you slept?”

McKay was instantly on alert and he tried to sit up a little taller in his seat to appear more put together than he felt. “Just woke up. I’m fine.”

John looked unconvinced to say the least. “Yeah, I mean actual sleep, not passed out at your laptop for 10 minutes.” John sighed and began to rub the back of McKay’s neck. “Look buddy, I’ll be honest. You look like shit, and we’re all worried about you. How about we take a trip to your quarters and see what we can do about that, yeah?” John said as he started to peel Rodney off his chair. He had to take most of the scientist’s weight, but he was prepared for such an outcome. The man was beyond exhausted, which was no surprise after almost a week’s worth of insomnia.

As they began to make their way out of the lab, Rodney shook his head slightly and tried to stop his team leader from dragging his butt to bed. He knew he needed to sleep, but he just couldn’t. He couldn’t face those nightmares again. Not so soon after just having one. John shushed him though and kept them moving. “It’s alright, Rodney. I promise, it’s all okay. Just a few more feet….or meters…whatever you Canadians use.” John said at a light attempt at humor, but it seemed to go right over his genius’ head, which was disconcerting to say the least.

When they finally made it to Rodney’s room, the scientist went from near ragdoll, to the immovable object. He somehow found an untapped reserve of strength neither knew he had, and he stood just inside the door, staring at his bed as if he was the nastiest, meanest wraith he had ever seen. He shook his head violently as he tried to back out of the room, but John was there to stop him and coax him forward. “Hey. Rodney! Easy buddy. I’m not going to leave, okay? I’m going to be right here the whole time, but you seriously need some sleep. Come on, one foot after the other,” Sheppard coaxed as he gently pushed Rodney towards the bed.

As they neared the bed, Rodney suddenly turned to face John and dug his trembling hands into John’s shirt. He shook his head, and the broken, scared look on his face when he looked up at his leader broke John’s heart into a million tiny pieces. “Please John…please! I…I can’t do this. Please. Let me go back to my lab. I swear, I’m fine. Please, John…please…please…” Rodney begged and sobbed into John’s chest as the pent up fear and exhaustion hit him like a Mack truck.

John’s resolved redoubled as he held the sobbing genius in his arms, rocking him back and forth as he slowly lowered them both onto the bed. They went from sitting to lying down over the next few minutes, and by the time John was tangled in the sobbing mess that was Rodney McKay; he had somehow managed to get both their boots and McKay’s jacket off.

John continued to hold Rodney to his chest; allowing the man to cry to his heart’s content. John knew eventually Rodney would cry himself out, but he just hoped that it would be enough to allow the man more than a few fleeting moments of rest. He continued to rub Rodney’s back slowly, as he shushed him kindly, “I’m right here. You’re safe. Just go to sleep, buddy. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

He wasn’t sure how long this went on, but John sighed in relief as he felt Rodney relax completely onto his chest; his hands no longer gripping him tightly and his breathing evening out. He dared a look and met utterly exhausted eyes staring up at him. “John…” the scientist whispered hoarsely, “Please…don’t go.”

John couldn’t help himself. He wanted so much to comfort his friend that he didn’t think twice when he gently laid a small peck on the man’s forehead and held him a little bit tighter. “You got it buddy. Anything you want. I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe, and nothing; not wraith or water will hurt you as long as I’m around. Just close your eyes buddy. I’ll make sure the nightmares keep their distance. Just get some sleep.”

McKay held his breath for a moment before exhaling deeply and completely going lax in John’s arms. He knew it was over. He couldn’t fight this anymore. A week of stress induced insomnia was coming to an end, and he had to say, he actually didn’t mind. As long as John was there, it seemed like an okay idea to maybe try this sleeping thing again. He yawned long and hard as his eyes closed and refused to open, no matter how much he tried. He could still feel John rubbing his back, and it was soothing. He wanted so much to tell John how much he appreciated his friendship and what he was doing for him now and on so many missions in the past, but he just felt so fuzzy all of a sudden, and before he was even aware of it, he was finally and truly asleep.

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