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popcornforone · 4 months

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FEBRUARY

From the Marcus Pike Fan Fic Diary

Masterlist

January

Time for extract number 2 from your diary. The first one seemed to go down well & I have a few months now preplanned so I hope these all really do deliver. Well I’m enjoying writing them, they are a nice little distraction.

Synopsis:- Marcus has to work late on Valentines night, so how will this effect your plans for the most romantic night of the year

Word count:- 1800

Warnings:- DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! PIV Sex, established consensual relationship, sex in the work place, swearing, teasing, spanking, mentions of pregnancy. Remember this is a diary so it’s written as I.

Thanks as always for the read peoples, all feedback is welcome. I hope you enjoy.

My hand still trembles when I think back to Wednesday. Valentine’s Day. I know it was only a few days ago but I am still amazed how well it worked. I’ve replayed it all in my mind countless times. So much so that this morning while I thought he was asleep, I was thinking of it as I touched myself. Marcus was playing possum & I didn’t notice until his thumb slide over my clit.

“We’re we that good beautiful?” he said with morning breath before he pulled me on top of him. My pussy was filled & oh my did he feel good. Morning kisses & gasps filled the air but oh fuck he knew what to do this morning, he always makes me cum.

Wait this is for valentines not today.

We never do anything on Valentine’s Day. First year I was sick, second year he worked late & last year a friend got married on Valentine’s Day.

How “original” is that?

But this year I had a plan. I wanted to do something we’d both remember & give him a gift he’d never forget.

I had to act naive when he said on the 10th he was on the late for the 14th. Usual patter flew out my mouth of “I don’t need a day to tell you how much I love you” & “as long as I get morning sex it’s okay” he blushed. He liked that I’m so open & honest with him about sex & our preferences. He likes that once I have said everything though, that he gets to take control. Those hips have a power over me as I quiver beneath him, be it slow & sensual or blistering passion. I’m his, my body is too.

What Marcus had no idea about is that this was all planned. Id contacted his supervisor & asked if he could work late & promised to not make a mess. Ha! Surprisingly it was all approved & allowed.

So in I sneak into his office at 6pm on valentines evening . Oooh the morning sex was wonderful before I went to work by the way. He’d got me a bunch of 13 roses & took one to trail over my body as I sat in his lap riding his cock. The way the petals felt over my nipples had me grinding harder.

“So beautiful” he whimpered as my head rolled back as he looked at my strained body about to explode in sexual desire. I knew he was going to think about the way I moaned his name as I came, for the rest of the day. I had the look from his dilated eyes imprinted in my memory. God he was good.

Sorry but it adds to the surprise.

So I crept in & set up his office & got changed & put a little recorder I had to the side to hear it all back. I wanted to get it right word for word for you my diary & so I could listen back to our flirting. I made sure his desk was clear & organised. I’d even sent him an email as to where his paper work was so he could find it the next day. As much as the fantasy of papers being thrown over the office is a romantic, it’s not practical.

I hear his tones come from down the corridor.

“I’ve just got to sort 1 more thing out & then I’m clocking off I’ve got a 7pm talk in my office & then I’m done.” The door clicks at 6:55pm & it swings on & Marcus jaw hits the floor. “I’ll call you tomorrow”

“Hi baby” I giggle as I twist my hair which I’ve slightly curled for him. He likes that. I’m sat on his desk.

“What on earth?” Hes stuttering. “You can’t just rock up here like this, I have a meeting in…” I tut & wave a naughty oh no finger at him. His eyes went from shocked to suddenly surprised.

“I’m your 7pm meeting” i lick my lips.

“How”

“Your supervisor approved it, I think he’s a romantic deep down”

“Well I’m very happy he did” I hear Marcus lock the door & hit the button to close the blinds. He takes off his jacket & stands hands on his hips. “So a valentines surprise?”

“Exactly & your gifts you are going to love.” I smirk.

“Oooh morning sex wasn’t enough”

“Never Marcus,” I giggle & stand up & start to unbutton the long coat I am wearing. I stand next to Marcus. A soft but rich kiss encapsulates us both as his hands plunge into my hair. I wriggled enough for the coat to drop to the floor. “This is your gifts baby” & I step back.

Now I know what your thinking diary & I think so was Marcus when he opened his eyes. I wasn’t just standing naked infront of him. Quite the opposite.

“I’m confused” he asked & then he looked me up & down once again.”wait is…” I nod.

“Your valentines present is all the clothes I ‘borrow off you’ baby, for you to have & so they smell a bit more like you again” he chuckles.

“You know I have no problem with you…” his voice trails off as I slowly remove his long thick football socks I wear in the winter & i seductivly remove them from my legs & feet flinging them at him. “…. Actually…” he gulps down undoing his top button”… maybe I do need them all back, urgently right now” he grabs the second sock I throw & sniffs it. “Oooh cheesey”

“Marcus!” I joke back “so you want your big comfortable captain america hoodie back then, it will make me cold when I take it off, I might need extra warmth”

“Oooh I need it” I slowly peel it from my body & Marcus blushes even more.

“What’s the matter baby?” I asked “you often see me in just your blue shirt & your boxers in the morning”

“T…t…true” he’s losing composure & his hand is trying to palm his erection but it failed. I mean Marcus should always be so proud with how big he is. “But not before sex”

“Who says we’re having sex tonight” I raise an eyebrow at him as I unbutton the shirt I’m wearing. His face burrows & he pouts. “Well maybe I need to swap this shirt for a new one.” I take a few steps towards Marcus & start undoing his own shirt. Kissing around his chin & neck. Both shirts fall to the floor at the same time.

There’s something about the way he sucks on my nipples. It’s every time. I moan. Even if I’m not in the mood or not up for it, he twists, licks, cups & then sucks. I’m instantly an aroused feral mess all just for him.

“Marcus” I groan. A feeing I adore but always has me being vocal. He whispers my name back before moving onto the next breast. My nipples are erect as I start to undo his belt. I then push away from him. He doesn’t look shocked he knows where this goes.

I step back & twang the elastic in the boxers & then turn around & shake my bum. I hear his trousers drop to the floor as I climb into the empty desk. As I do so I peel the boxers off showing him my arse. Peachy & ready.

“Don’t be shy baby” I moaned.

Slap.

The feel of his palm in my buttocks sends shivers down my spine & I gasp. He’s not into spanking, but when we were seeing what we were both into he loved the little squeak I made, it makes him throb. So he does three spanks to hear the noise each time which is his turn on.

I then turn around & open my legs, spread apart, completely vulnerable & my pussy is in need of satisfaction. He has a brief look at the state of me in front of him before he shimmy’s his boxers down. Stroking his long veiny meaty length, in his large hands, he makes the 5 paces towards me. I quiver as it glides across my clit, no lube needed I’ve been aroused for a while. He fills me in one jolt still standing.

“Fuck Marcus” he’s hit the spot already on the second thrust. His teeth grind as he growls as he fucks me into the desk. I eventually end up lying on my back on the desk, screaming his name.

“Fucking tight” he stammers “best cunt, my cunt, gonna fill you til you can take no more”. Marcus didn’t know this was how his day was going to go but he was loving it. So caught up in the moment enjoying as I clamp around his penis.

We don’t just fuck on the desk but against his filing cabinet & in his office chair.

“Fuck” we scream in unison, our final orgasms hitting. I’m in his lap. Both our bodies spiralling out of control. It was pure lust & desire. He squeezes my bum as I breathe into the crook of his neck.

“Do you know that lots of babies come from office flings?” I lift my head up eventually & look into his deep brown eyes.

“Really?” He smirks, he’s now wondering if this is a coded way of me telling him something.

“Good job this isn’t a fling & a real deal” I say as I stroke his face & he sighs. We need to have the future conversation soon.

“Well when it happens it happens & I just know if we do decide to try, our kids will be loved” his hand stroke down my arm as we suddenly then both realise the time & should probably be heading home.

Marcus was impressed I did have a change of clothes that I got dressed in, & that I brought a gift bag for all of his “gifts”.

“Baby you know you can keep these?” He says as he puts his shoes on.

“Oooh I know I just want you to wear them for a while so they smell if you again”

“All an alternate motive” I roll my eyes “hey don’t do that I mean technically you were my 7pm meeting”

So yea that was my Valentine’s Day surprise for my man. We finally got to properly celebrate one together. He has already asked if he can see my at 7pm in his office next year, I’ve said it’s a date…

March

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yummyboyzpost · 1 year

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♥!Boss Bakugo x FemReader!♥

-- 𝔽ᒪ𝓤𝔽𝔽/ 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝑔𝓈𝓉 👊 / ꋊꄲ ꇙM꒤꓄ 𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦 :0 --

You've worked For Bakugo for about 7 months now becoming somewhat close with him, but he defiantly doesn't hold back on the yelling nor does he give you special treatment but....its Bakugo lol. But what happens when a certain green haired boy comes along. Ohhh nooo who could that be Muhshaahha. You are also Quirkless Oh yes and when I put >(*) Those little star things its just Y/n Talking to herself :) lmao

♥ *part one*♥

(Your pov)

*Ring Ring Ring Ring Ring*

"Oh god, shut up!" I yell at my phone that doesn't seem to stop ringing. It's my one day off who the hell is calling me. I grab my phone seeing the caller id

-𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘌𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘔𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳🤬💥-

"ahh shit," I answer the phone "GODDAMN IT Y/N!" I pull the phone away from my ear knowing I'm probably gonna be def tomorrow "I'VE BEEN CALLING YOU FOR THE PAST FUCKING HOUR!" He said heaving breathing on the other side of the phone. ((Oh right for got to mention your his assistant, Gooooddd luckkk babes!!)) "Sorry sir, I was sleeping. I ju-" before I could get anything else out he cut me off "You what?" he said in a unsettling calm voice "I just woke up?" I said confused "My office now!" He said with a stern voice. "Oh uh sir, It's my day off." I said laughing not noticing he had hung up

*That bastard, I'm gonna kill him*

As I was walking into Bakugo's building, I bumped into a tall, buff ass man goddaayuumm. I looked up and I had never seen him before and yet he looked so familiar. God he was Hot as shit, *NO! y/n get your shit together, no time for gocking if I don't get to Bakugo in 5 Minutes I'm as good as dead*

"Sorry." I said grabbing my papers and I was about to get off the floor when I was floating, what the actual fuck? "A cute girl doesn't belong on the floor." he said smiling with the most adorable smile ever! omg my heart I think it might explode. what a lovely death that would me I say taking a step back but regaining my footing *No! Y/n snap out of it! You need to get to Bakugo's office!*

"Ah Thank you for your help uhhm?" I questioned hoping he would answer. but why dose he look so- OH GOD! ITS DEKU. I freeze in shock "Midoriya, you?" I was just standing there like an idiot *Come on Y/n! All you gotta do is say your name.* "De- DEKU!" I scream making everyone look at me *YOU DUMB WHORE!* shit... "I-I mean um, I'm L/n! sorry I just um." I don't know what to say... He laughed "It's okay L/n don't worry abt it, I-" He was about to say something but i saw my coffee all over his I'm guessing very expensive shirt. "OH MY GODS! I'm so sorry, I spilt my Coffee on your shirt! I don't really have money to give you. ummm Here," I said reaching into my pocket. "Thats my card, If you need anything call okay? I'll be there I promise! I gotta go or i might get my head blown off. It was really nice to meet you Deku!" I said running to the stairs.

(Deku's Pov)

Wow she was cute, I wondered If she had a Boyfriend. She gave me her card for what? In all honesty I didn't know what for, its just coffee, yea it might stain but i can just get a different shirt. It's not the end of the world. She made me smile on how clumsy she was, I might just call her.

(Y/n Pov)

I knock on Bakugo's doors hearing him groan knowing that was his was of telling me to come in *SHIT I'm dead* I walk in seeing his back turned to me, "You asked to see me?" I asked walking to his desk. "Where were you?" he said in a calm voice which surprised me. "Oh, today was my off day sir. I thought that meant it was yours too." I said sitting in the chair Infront of his desk. He turned around "You have no off days Y/n" he said eyeing me up and down, I didn't really dress to work today. In all honesty I thought we would just ask me to get him lunch. And yes he calls me by my first name, idk why It doesn't bother me. He's never called me L/n since I started working here.

"You look horrible." he said standing up walking over to me. "Excuse me? You know I could've just not came in. And good luck with firing me, cuz you know damn well no one besides me could handle your explosive attitude Katsuki!" I said standing up and about to walk out but he was already Infront of me. He looked angry "Sit." He said with firy eyes. *Shit y/n what were you thinking, you need this job. You can't just quit like that.

He's defiantly gonna fire you now you DUMB BITCH* I was waiting for him to say not to come back but he didn't say anything. Not gonna lie I was scared, he's never been this quite. "Bakugo, I'm sorry I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed." I said sitting back down in my seat. "Deku, huh?" he said eyeing down on me. "Um what?" I said confused. "Oh you mean earlier? I bumped into him on my way up here and spilt my coffee all over him, So I offered to help him with something in return." I said smiling and grabbing the status report out of all the papers I had on my lap. "Also here," I said handing it to him "I finished it early, Although you're not gonna like it." I said standing up again.

"Didn't I tell you to sit," he said placing the paper on his desk, and making me sit back down by placing both of his hands on either side of the chair. his face was so close I could feel his breath on my nose. his eyes... why is he looking at me like that. My cheeks turn red and my shoulder tense up. "Bakugo w-what are you d-doing?" I said with wide eyes, He didn't say anything he just stared at me. he leaned to my left ear "You won't talk to that damn fucking nerd ever again you hear me?" he said breathing hard *Oh My GoD Katsuki if you don't back up right now I'm gonna... Please back up!!!* "Okay." is all I said why wasn't he backing up? I said okay! then I felt a slight pressure on my shoulder and I heard some mumbling. "Bakugo, I can't hear you you're gonna have to move you head" I said as he shook his head.

He moved his head off my shoulder, "It wasn't important, he said backing off me and back over to his chair. I can't help but to think that he was lying. "You can go home." he said going back to work on his computer. I wanted to say something but, I think it's best if I didn't. I walk out with out but before I close the door I look back to say something but his eyes are already on mine. His eyes widen, "There's no need to be jealous Bakugo, you know yours." I say smiling His cheeks turn the slightest color of pink *cute* I walk out of his office and turn to go to my desk *Welp I'm already here might as well get some work done.*

<<Later that day, everyone has gone home except you and Bakugo, that's usually how it is anyways>>

"I thought I told you to go home." A deep voice said, I knew who it was "And I am," I said grabbing my jacket. "I had a lot of emails to look at and since I was already here I just decided to stay." I said smiling and walking over to him. "You don't drive correct?" he said looking at me "Nope, I sure don't" I laugh walking past him. He grabbed my arm I turned around and he was looking away to him the fact that he was blushing but I could tell *He's too cute! Ugh if only he liked me I'd make this man wish he could kiss me all day HAHAHAH* "It's late, let me give you a ride home Y/n," he said letting go of my wrist

*Why is he acting like this, he's never once asked to take me home. well except that one time I fell down the stairs... yea were not gonna talk abt it.* "Um it's okay! the bus runs late on Friday's. I'll be fine." I said smiling. "I wasn't asking." *UGH Bakugo and his demands... not going to lie its sexy as hell but it also mean I cant say no.*

The ride home was quite, he asked me a few questions abt Deku but that was all. When we got to my apartment, he got out and walked me up to my door. "Goodnight Y/n, I'll see you tomorrow." he said looking down at me with those sexy red eyes. "Goodnight Bakugo." I said about to walk into my house when he grabbed the door nob I turned around *AHHH he's way TOOOO CLOSE MY POOR HEART, IS he trying to kill me?* I turned my head to the left and tried to get ahold of my heart.

"Please don't call me that anymore, just call me Katsuki like you did earlier." he said as he leaned down I turned my head back forward and all of a sudden I felt a warmth on my lips, his lips were on mine?!?!?! His eyes widened and so did mine. He backed up and cover his mouth "I- I didn't mean to-" he was talking but I cut him off "No, N-no, it was my F-fault I shouldn't have-" I cut myself off and covered my mouth. "I- Um, Goodnight Bak- Uh I mean Ka-Katsuki!" I said as I turned around and ran inside my apartment.

*Oh god* I slid down my door and onto the floor. *I JUST KISSED KATSUKI BAKUGO!! I THINK IM GONNA PASS THE FUCK OUT.* my heart was racing and I couldn't catch my breath. What have I done?

algf;iuapfiuabg[uabgd OMG haha you guys kissed what a Silly SILLY Y/N ahahahhaha I'll probably post the second part sometime this weekend. Tell me what you think abt it!!!

I am Jumping with joy!!! this was the post i thought i lost forever lmaoooo it was in my dafts im so mf-ing happy haufgpiafpa

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year

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Just read parts 1 and 2 of 'Never Before' and I'm going feral, crying, screaming, going up the wall, sleeping in the highway, bathing with acid, foaming at the mouth IT'S SO GOOD BESTIE AAAAAAAA👹👹👹👹👹

The dynamic between reader and Aegon is SCRUMPTIOUS got me smiling at my phone kicking my feet and twirling my hair, omg absolutely mesmerized and in love

And Aemond's little teacher crush??🥰 he's just so desperate I love this pathetic little man

Reader is such a bad bitch too she knows everything, and she kinda reminded me of Sersi from Eternals (2021) but less annoying [if you have watched Eternals you might understand why I dislike her so much but the point is that she works at a museum too and knows everything about the past]

Anyways pardon my rambling, I just had to put it out there 🙈 and pls pls write more modern!Aegon x reader I love how you write him so muchhh, you're so talented 😩

– love, Nyn 💌

HELLO NYN <3 <3 <3 I WAS SO EXCITED TO SEE THIS IN MY INBOX WHEN I WOKE UP <3 <3

I am so touched that my modern!daemon au made you feel so may things here's a love letter for you <3

I'm going feral, crying, screaming, going up the wall,

cryING LAUGHING

sleeping in the highway,

❓❗❓❗ HAHHAAHHHA

bathing with acid,

[JAW ON THE FLOOR] BATHING IN ACID I-

foaming at the mouth IT'S SO GOOD BESTIE AAAAAAAA👹👹👹👹👹

THANK YOU SO MUCH <3

The dynamic between reader and Aegon is SCRUMPTIOUS got me smiling at my phone kicking my feet and twirling my hair, omg absolutely mesmerized and in love

i AM SO HONORED YOU FEEL THIS WAY I HAD SUCH AN AMAZING TIME WRITING MODERN!AEGON HES SUCH A BABE I LOVE HIM

And Aemond's little teacher crush??🥰 he's just so desperate I love this pathetic little man

RIPPPP MY POOR AEMOND REDUCED TO A PATHETIC WET PIECE OF PAPER (prolly soaked in tears)

HAHHADHLAHDASHHDHA i see i actually did watch eternals and i was just very confused at the end of it if im being honest. i mean i mostly fixated on barry keoghan's character druig 😍 but idk i dont think much of the film tbh so i cant say i understand why you find sersi annoying HAHHHAHH

Anyways pardon my rambling, I just had to put it out there 🙈 and pls pls write more modern!Aegon x reader I love how you write him so muchhh, you're so talented 😩

i love rambling <3 you can come and ramble to me about anything anytime! i'm happy to announce that this fic wont leave my mind and i have like 9999999 ideas for it and that includes ???? possibly a spin off for aegon and aemond im so not sure do not quote me on that, but for the mean time id just like to tell you i plan on making a p3 and A LOT is going to happen. a LOT needs to happen or else these brain farts will make me explode T_T

im luv u so much thank you for gracing my inbox with your sweetness

xxx

#ask #cruelmissdior cutie #nyn cutie #waiting for a lifetime #never before #hotd modern au #modern!daemon #modern!aegon #modern!aemond #i am just as fixated on this as you are lol

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aemiruo · 3 months

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2-04-24: Yesterday night I had an anxiety attack..

I am not going to help my English with translation so, if you are reading this, sorry for the misspelling.

I had a lot of thoughts on my head, most of it are bad.

To put some context, I am non binary, and I have been doing some papers and things to change my name, and also change my ID gender, which it only goes by M and F. In my country is not legal at all to use a X in the gender section, so it has to be done via legal and courts stuff.

That would not be a big problem is society could see me as I am, specially my family. They still ignore how actually hard is to live in my skin. They had no idea, they don't care. Why would they care? I don't ask for them to understand me, I just ask them to respect me.. Which sometimes, is quite hard. I stopped fighting with them for this, so we just continue living (barely to me) and they think everything is alright.

I feel my gender identity is like a joke to them, specially to my sister. For some time she respected my pronounces and such, then one day she become a total asshole and told me the most hurtful words that nobody ever told me, and become the side kick of my mom. My relationship with her is strange, I like her because she is my mom but I don't feel she likes me for being their child, I might be a rare thing to her. I am not like her first born son, and never will be like her perfect middle daughter. But she likes to know about my life by others, and my sister tell her everything she can found about me online. That's how their work. I have a bunch of secret social media thanks to old stalkers I had. Now my family is my own stalker.

But that is not everything. She insulted my partner, she insult me. My partner and I are neurodivergent and from the LGBT+ community, to be specific, under the Transgender umbrella. So we both know how hard is the world for us and the struggle to do everything and not be seen as we are. My sister said basically she understand us but we are not a big deal, we are not the center of the world, we are not special and such.

Oh Romina.. we know, more that you. We have been surviving until now. Neither you nor society and the government as well care a damn shit about people like me, people like us. You have no fucking idea, you understand nothing. We both are stronger than you would never be. You don't have identity/gender problems, you don't have to be hurt by everyone who misgender you because you will never be misgender. You are not hurt by our parents words because you are perfectly fine for them. You know nothing. You are an idiot.

Last Monday my mom asked me why I don't like to see my sister anymore, why we don't get along.

"Well, mom, you, dad, my bother, her partner, that sister, her partner and their dog are about to go to vacations together. Organized by her and she did not invited me. You should ask her about it"

The anxiety attack wasn't just for that, for the thought of that everybody should be better without my existence, but also for my lack of happiness when I work at my area. I wasn't enjoying art, I barely write now. I want to be happy with the things I like to do again. I want to change my name, I want to people respect me. But I'm invisible. I feel alone most of the time.

They went to vacations as the family they are, the perfect one. Do not take me wrong, I'm glad they had a happy time as a family. I know I'm not included at all in their plans anymore because is complicated to me to go out with me (besides my sister don't like me). Is hard to me to go out to places I donot feel comfortable, to be around people who are going to missgender me every second. They do not have any flaw anymore.

I'm working on my mental health, I'm taking medicine and other things that works.

Yesterday night, it just explode, everything I was feeling during the last 2 months.

I am better I want to belive. I'm with my partner and my cats. They bring me joy, happiness..

#ae's head mystery #long ass vent post

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thelegendsoferidar · 1 year

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Trains Pass I’m Home Bound

“Believe in the Liminality you know, obey those who know more, fight disorder.”

The Book On Liminality

My face is on fire.

I only have one chance, I can’t fuck it up and become a “Problem”.

The Library is quiet with the dull roar of my life falling in on itself. My chest explodes with the thoughts like gun shots.

Expelled.

Fractal Investigation.

Guilty.

Growing up the Martin family were investigated, I was friends with Sara, their daughter, and one day the whole family went missing. Of course Mom told me they moved, but that can’t be all there is right?

Focus.

There are more important things going on in my life right now. I have to focus. I count my breath to stop the storm in my mind.

One.

Gun shots.

Two.

Static.

Three.

Peace.

The book on Liminality sits in front of me like a common object. They say two hundred years ago you would have been killed just for someone to take your book. I pull it toward me, tempted by the knowledge it holds. The point of Liminal studies is to be guided through the mind-altering book, to avoid unwanted pitfalls in thought. The window outside peers out onto the lawn. The sun is begging to set.

We weren’t told we can’t look at it though. A peek wouldn’t hurt me, right? I open to the first page.

The discovery of Liminal space saved civilized humanity. The brink of existence had been reached through repeated abuses. The people were unwinding from a long run of good times, and no one believed the end was near. Understanding this text is paramount to our continued existence. Liminal space is like a piece of folded paper…

The bell for the last class of the day rings.

My hair stands on end and I go straight into fight or flight. I can feel the difference. Like getting a new arm in a new dimension, but the arm is weak and can’t do anything yet.

Its time to go back home. I collect my things and leave the library.

The walk from the library out into the main campus is a great opportunity to let the stress go. Fall in Centralia is the best. Just before it gets gross and cold, not too warm, not too cold. I follow the pathway from ULoSE back to the subway alone.

The red light in the ball above the subway entrance flickers making it hard to read the sign, Centralia to Suburbia. My brain buzzes, settling into a headache. The light from the 24-hour cafeteria beside the entrance casts shadows into the bowels of the earth. I’m not afraid of the dark, I just don’t like it when light and dark touch. The feeling of going from something known to unknown is eerie, any step could be right over the edge. I take a sharp breath before heading down.

The station is empty, the Fractals leave just before the last class. I figure that most of the whole student ID business is to help us feel special and know that we’re safe in this school. I take advantage of the empty bench and try and let the stress go, but it just wont. My head is pounding.

I guess the one good thing is that I can just be without worrying if anyone sees. Staying still has always been a “Problem” for me. Mom used to call it wiggles, I would just say I was feeling myself. But either way it used to get me into a lot of trouble in Drills, especially my first year.

The light three lamps down dims.

It’s the worst when there’s music, I really don’t know how anyone could sit still when music is playing, even elevator music.

The light two lamps down dims.

Mom would put on my favorite music whenever she wanted to help me clean up around the house.

The lamp next to me dims.

Huh, I really miss her.

The light above me dims.

A reflexive chill runs through my spine.

The maintenance crew really needs to get to work. Are they waiting for all the lights in the city to go out? I think I’ll have to mention what’s been going on to Dad. Someone needs to address it before it becomes a bigger issue.

Skitter skitter, smack.

What was that?

Skitter skitter, smack.

I really hope the train comes soon. I’ve been sitting here for a really long time.

Skitter skitter, smack.

How can the sound be coming from the other side of the gate?

I get up and walk over to the edge of the tracks. The gate is swirling faster than normal. The inky purple turning faster and faster, forming a vortex. The gate begins to bubble at the center and push out. Something is about to breach. My heart pounds inside my chest like the bass drum of a rock song.

Skitter skitter, smack.

The train erupts from the gate and pulls up to the station. When the doors open I leap across the boundary glad to be free from the station. The lights inside are a sterile germ-killing white. I take in the surrondings, looking for the monster under my bed. It was all in my head. I sink into the too thin padding and breathe a sigh of relief when the doors finally close. The train pulls away from the station.

As I pass through the gate to the In-Between I see my reflection in the opposite window. Thick breaks in the glass trace through my chestnut eyes and hair like my reflection is cast in a broken mirror. My face is pale the tan having been drained out, and the bags under my eyes make me look old and ugly. My skin sags with age I don’t know yet. It last for just a moment but I’m sure I see it all.

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

The sun sets opposite my house, the last gasps of day in suburbia cut a pink-blue relief of the tree across the house. A cool spring breeze pushes away the last gasps of the days heat. The dry and dead rose bushes cling to the white picket fence. The neighbors keep complaining, but neither of really know how to take care of them. Mom always wanted to plant roses. Just before the move it was the things she was most excited to do. Our apartment in Centralia couldn’t support plant life like Mom wanted.

“Dad, I’m home.”

“I’ve got dinner in here. Have something before you get started on homework.”

The news is starts, Milkshake likes the noise, I help dad put away the leftovers and sit down to my differentials homework. I can’t shake the eerie feeling from the subway though. No matter how hard I try and focus on the problems, the feeling of something not being right won’t go away. Like a hand hovering above my shoulder. My eyes rest on the family photo. I try not to look at it, but it somehow feels more comfortable right now. We’re all standing in front of the new house, dad kneeled in between me and Mom. The thing that always got me though is how far Mom stood away from us. When I was younger the Drills sergeant would say focusing on your feelings is a waste of time. I set aside my unease to finish up my work.

The 10 o’clock news comes on. I look up from my completed work, take a deep breath, and stand up. I walk over to the mirror hanging at eye level. I have to see for myself; I fight the urge to focus on the background and look myself in the eye. I see the youthful and very attractive man I wanted to see. The fear subsides.

The couch envelops me. Milkshake curls up in my lap. I don’t especially care for the news, just the thought of deciding what to watch sounds painful so I let it continue.

Charlie Glass, has short sandy brown hair, pale never seen sun skin, and a grey suit to be adventurous.

The news woman has shoulder length bleach blonde hair and she wears a complimentary but conservative red dress and a tasteful pink lipstick. She looks like a true woman.

I would say she looks familiar, but the news station keeps replacing the female hosts so I haven’t learned her name yet.

“Tonight’s top story, the ‘Problems’, who are they, why are they bad for society and what should you do if you meet one,” Charlie says.

“That’s right Charlie, we talked to Lieutenant White from the Fractal task force.”

They play a whole segment about “Problems” but the thing is I don’t ever really get a sense of what a “Problem” is, they seem like they could be anyone. The whole segment they talk about crimes, social faux pas, and how to pick a “problem” out from a crowd. As the sound winds down it cuts to the Anchor woman sitting across from a man.

“Lieutenant White, thank you for joining us,” The Anchor woman says.

Lieutenant white is a short muscular man, his veins bulge from his intense muscles. He has cropped white hair and his mustache is starting to go grey. His eyes are blue and wild with violence.

“Thank you for having me,” He says back. He seems distracted by something to his left.

“Everyone has been concerned lately, with a rise in crime.”

“The new crime wave has been a travesty.” The officer smiles.

“Yesterday I reported on a triple homicide suicide in Centralia.” The anchor woman pushes her hair back.

“Terrible thing. We identified thirteen related ‘Problems’ as a result though.”

“I was reading about this ‘Problem’ that goes by Gwynevere.”

“Mhm. Weird ‘Problem’ he is. At least we finally have him off the streets.”

“Something good came of it at least. That’s all our time.”

The sound begins to fade out.

“I’ll have to come back then, but remember ‘Problems’ need to be dealt with.” Lieutenant white smiles and walks off camera to the left.

“Will you try and get some sleep early tonight?” Dad calls down.

I turn off the TV.

“Sure. Good night Dad.”

#The “Problem” With Timothy #original fiction #Chapter 2

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bargainpiner · 2 years

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Shadow warrior 3

Shadow warrior 3 movie#

Shadow warrior 3 software#

Shadow warrior 3 series#

In between combat, Shadow Warrior 3 serves up platforming segments, which actually feel pretty good. Related Story Chris Wray Evil West Hands-on Preview – From Dusk ’til Spaghetti Western They’re all here - enemies that run away from you constantly, ones that run toward you and explode, ones that burrow underground, and my personal least favorite, flying bullet sponges that constantly bombard you from above. Additionally, it sometimes felt like Flying Wild Hog were challenging themselves to collect all the most irritating enemy archetypes in one game. Shadow Warrior 3’s battle arenas are also generally smaller and less complex than what you find in Doom. I didn’t really find myself using the sword much unless a pack of grunts had boxed me into a corner. Shadow Warrior 3 litters its world with regenerating ammo and health pickups, so while “shoot enemies to keep your health up, move in aggressively to refill your ammo” is a well-balanced system on paper you’re not really forced to engage with it.

Shadow warrior 3 software#

Shredding baddies with a giant drill or a storm of lasers is fun, but the good times don’t last long, as these weapons are on a pretty short timer.ĭoom’s combat mechanics were a great idea when id Software came up with them, and they still mostly work in Shadow Warrior 3, but several poor design decisions undermine their effectiveness. Shadow Warrior 3’s only real innovation are its new “Gore Weapons” – powerful items you get from performing finishers on enemies. Meanwhile, shooting enemies with ranged weapons will net you health drops. The more complex swordplay of past Shadow Warrior games is gone, as your blade now apes Doom Eternal’s chainsaw, causing ammo to drop when you score melee kills. Shadow Warrior 3 clearly takes inspiration from Doom 2016’s “push-forward” combat and Doom Eternal’s grappling-hook-heavy traversal.

Shadow warrior 3 series#

The Shadow Warrior series has long been summarized as “Doom with a sword,” which may sound a bit reductive, but well… if the shoe fits. I’ll admit, I’ve been known to tell the occasional dad joke myself, but this game drove me to my groaner breaking point (not an easy thing to do). If you’re into references to Extreme Makeover (a show that’s been off the air for 15 years) and ribald parodies of “Another One Bites the Dust,” boy howdy, this is the game for you. I think the makers of Shadow Warrior 3 were aiming for edgy, but somewhere along the way, they took a hard left turn into Dad Joke Central. More offensive to my sensibilities were the quality of the game’s jokes. I didn’t find it too terribly off-putting, as I don’t think Flying Wild Hog are aiming to be malicious and the game’s world is so broad and silly it’s often hard to even identify the stereotypes they’re playing on, but your mileage will absolutely vary.

Shadow warrior 3 movie#

In an era when people are trying to be more thoughtful about how they portray other cultures, Shadow Warrior 3 is a Polish-developed game that indulges in every kung fu action movie trope imaginable. Of course, one or both of your allies might have other schemes in mind.īefore we go on, it has to be said – it’s kind of astounding this game exists as it does in 2022. To do that, he’ll need to revive his old god buddy Hoji and team up with seemingly-reformed villain Orochi Zilla. Much of the intricate backstory and lore of past games is cast aside this time around – all you really need to know is that there’s a big-ass dragon threatening the world, and it’s up to series protagonist Lo Wang to stop it. Shadow Warrior 3 continues from the ending of the previous entry in the series without much setup for those new to the story, although honestly, not a lot is needed.

#Shadow warrior 3

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reidsnose · 3 years

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completely and utterly, wholeheartedly and hopelessly (spencer reid x reader)

overview: spencer helps his best friend talk through her emotions

genre: angst? and fluff

warnings: mentions of cheating, bad coping mechanisms, idrk what else reader being upset for a little bit

a/n: this has been sitting in my notes app FOREVER but idk how i feel ab this one im usually strictly fluff so yall lmk :)

masterlist

you hated talking about your feelings. you knew it was unhealthy to keep it bottled and and 'deal with it on your own' but that didn't stop you from doing exactly that.

the worst part about your feelings right now was that you isolate to cope with them. you didn't want to interact with anyone at all because more likely than not you would lash out at them on accident. it just slips out sometimes.

when you trudged into the bullpen with your head down and your hands fidgeting with your zipper, you didn't even notice all eyes on you. you werent your usual happy self. you weren't being loud, you weren't cracking jokes. you were just begrudgingly existing amongst your favorite people and they knew there was something wrong.

"good morning gorgeous, its a paperwork day! that means no traveling!" garcia informed you brightly, trying to lighten my mood.

"oh. cool. thanks." you answered back, flashing her as much of a smile as you could muster after realizing the harshness of your words.

she shot morgan a look, to which he raised an eyebrow.

"hey pretty lady," he began as he walked over to you, "whats going on? did you drink some grumpy juice for breakfast?"

"no. im fine." you replied flatly, making your way to your desk.

"what in the world.." he whispered to garcia, not knowing you could still hear.

or maybe he did know. maybe he was trying to get on your nerves. no. this is the irritability talking. morgan was just being a good friend.

you groaned at your computer, retyping the same password for the 4th time.

this time Prentiss shot you a look.

"is everything ok?" she asked, smiling slightly.

"yeah my computer is being stupid." you rolled your eyes as it finally let you in.

"oh i know the feeling. if you need any help-"

"I'm alright. thanks." you cut her off, eyes glued to the file you were working on.

JJ, who had witnessed the whole interaction unfold, stood with her mouth agape.

"spence, your bestie needs you!" JJ tapped his shoulder and motioned to you.

he watched your jaw rhythmically clench and unclench. your tell. thats what you always did when you were irritated or angry.

"hey y/n," he hummed, sitting lightly on the corner of your desk, crinkling some of your paper work.

"Reid! my files!" you cried, swatting his thigh. he got up and murmured an apology.

"are you ok?" he asked simply, crouching down to meet your height as you sat in your chair.

"why does everyone keep asking me that!"

you knew why. you were being a bitch.

"you just called me Reid." he stated.

"its your name." you replied, not meeting his gaze.

"yeah but you always-" he began.

"I'm not in the mood right now."

he sighed, "if you need someone to talk to-"

"i don't need anyone to talk to because theres nothing to talk about!" you interrupted, causing him to furrow his eyebrows at the tone of my voice.

'i shouldn't be mean to him. why am i acting like this?' you thought to yourself

"ok, ill be over there if you need me," he threw his hands up in surrender.

you mumbled an ok and went back to distracting yourself with work. you were so invested in filing these cases you completely lost track of time and before you knew it, it was just you, Hotch, and Spencer left in the office. you vaguely remembered waving goodbye to your other coworkers but you didn't remember it being nearly 6pm.

"guys go home, you've done a lot today," Hotch said as he crossed the bullpen, making his way towards the glass doors.

"yeah i will i'm almost done," you answered, not looking up from my screen.

"good night, Hotch," Spencer called from the break room.

you stared at your screen, eyes burning. you did enough. you cant escape confronting your feelings much longer. you sighed as you began packing up.

as if on cue, Spencer walked out of the break room with two cups in his hands, steam rising from the both of them. your mood softened just a bit.

"here," he handed you your drink which he had filled with your favorite tea and sweetened just the way you like it.

"you didnt have to." you replied, setting down the warm cup as you finished packing up. he mirrored your movements, resting his satchel across his torso before picking his drink back up.

"i know." he answered simply, a gentle smiling resting on his lips before he took a sip of his own tea.

"im sorry for snapping at you earlier." you apologized, finally meeting his gaze. his eyes were soft and sweet and you felt a pang of guilt in your heart as they looked into your own.

"its ok. do you want to tell me why?" he asked, walking to the elevator with you.

"no. yes? i dont know. its stupid." you replied, looking down at the floor as you recounted your reason for my anger today.

"its not stupid." he spoke softly.

you scoffed lightly, "you dont even know what it is."

"so tell me."

"but its dumb!"

"y/n." he warned.

"my ex boyfriend, Ashton, is getting married to the girl he cheated on me with." you sighed, walking through the parking lot with Spencer.

"ah so Trashton put my favorite ray of sunshine in a bad mood." he joked, breath swirling around the cool air as he spoke

you let out a weary chuckle, "its not like i miss him or anything, i just wish i had someone! not him- i just- i want- ugh i don't know how to word this!" you grew frustrated, furrowing your eyebrows and balling your hands into fists.

you knew exactly how to word it.

you wanted Spencer.

"its ok, take all the time you need." he whispered, leaning on the hood of your car. you joined him, resting as you took a sip of your tea.

"why am i not good enough to be loved." you stated the question rather than asking it, eyes filling with tears.

"you are good enough and i promise you that you are loved more than you know." he affirmed gently, turning to face you.

"do you know why we broke up?" you asked, knowing if you acknowledged his previous comment you wouldn't be able to continue without sobbing.

"because he cheated on you." he answered confidently.

"no." you shook your head, fighting back tears.

"what? he didn't cheat on you?"

"he did. and i was going to forgive him for that."

Spencer started getting riled up, "what! why? you're worth more than that scumbag! you shouldn't ha-"

"Spencer just let me finish!" you cut him off. he went silent, chest rising and falling more rhythmically than it had seconds earlier. "he wanted me to chose. him or you."

"him or me?" he furrowed his eyebrows, voice much quieter now.

"mhm." you hummed not meeting his gaze, your cheeks redder than you'd like to admit.

"i don't understand." he breathed.

"he thought i was cheating on him with you. he had no proof and it w-"

"oh this is all my fault. y/n i'm so sorry!"

"no! spence its not your fault!" you grabbed his arm to reassure him.

"it is! your boyfriend broke up with you because of me! and now you're sad and lonely and its all my fault!" he cried, looking worriedly into your eyes.

"first of all, i broke it off with him, he just gave the ultimatum. secondly, you did me a favor."

"how?"

"by showing me who i was really dating. a cheating, insecure scumbag who was quick to replace me when i left."

"i guess thats true."

"and id pick you over him any day." you admitted, looking back down at the ground. he nudged your shoulder playfully and you cracked a sad smile

"im sorry i made you sad and lonely."

"you didnt. id be sad and lonely anyway."

"why? you would still have a boyfriend if it wasn't for me."

"i don't want a boyfriend if it isn't you."

shit. shit.

the words toppled out of your mouth before you could stop them.

"what?" he asked, wide eyes and looking a little shocked. spencer was sure in that very moment that if he heard you correctly hed simply explode.

"i- no this was a bad idea. i just ruined everything didnt i!" you were speaking more to yourself, exasperated at your own stupidity.

"no," you felt him place a finger to your chin and lift your gaze to meet his, "im glad you said it because now i can admit it."

"admit what?"

"that im completely and utterly, wholeheartedly and hopelessly in love with you."

"spencer dont play with my heart like this. are you being serious?"

"yes. i am." he said with a strange confidence than you had never heard before. hesitant but sure.

"oh thats so lucky because i am completely and utterly, wholeheartedly and hopelessly in love with you too." you admitted, feeling about 100 pounds lighter, like you could fly. he pulled you into a bone crushing hug which you eagerly accepted. "i should talk about my feelings more often."

he chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head, "yes you should."

world littlest taglist:

@mac99martin

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the-lonelybarricade · 3 years

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Loved your latest chapter and Im so excited to see what happens under the mountain!

I was wondering if I could request a one-shot?(up to you how long and you can do it in your own time)something along the lines of:

Feyre( from either ACOWAR, ACOFAS or ACOSF) time travels back to ACOTAR, but instead of finding herself back in her human body i the spring court, she's still in her fae body and ends up trapped in velaris, having to explain to the rest of IC who she is and why she cant go free their highlord(add some mistrust from the IC)

🙈🙈Id its very similar to what youre doing rn with your other fic but, if you find the inspiration sometime could you please do this? Ive wanted to read a fic for ages were feyre rime travels and meets pre-acomaf inner circle who dont know/trust her, but Ive never found a fic like that

Thank youuu

Hi lovely anon! It makes me so happy you enjoyed my latest chapter! I’m supposed to be working on a project for uni, but I couldn’t resist gratifying my lovely friends (because you're anon and won't be notified I was getting sad at the idea of you checking my blog and not seeing me respond) <3 I’ll admit I’m a bit scatterbrained at the moment, so I hope it’s okay!

I was having trouble brainstorming a reason for Feyre getting sent back in time because I didn't want to borrow the reasoning from ACoFD. So I was vague and twisted the pre-existing rules around the Ouroboros, and ended up getting quite carried away with the story since I don’t like not giving things a happy ending (even though it’s a little cheesy, sorry)

Anyway, I hope this is what you were looking for! I know you wanted the angst of not being able to save Rhys but... I couldn't just leave my poor bat-boy behind, you know? ;)

Also if this didn't quite scratch that itch, I'm always happy to take more requests

Word count: 4,446

The Ouroboros.

It was a massive, round disc—as tall as Feyre was. Taller. And the metal around it had been fashioned after a massive serpent, the mirror held within its coils as it devoured its own tail.

Ending and beginning.

From across the room, Feyre could not see it. What lay within.

She forced herself to take a step forward. Another.

The mirror itself was black as night—yet… wholly clear.

She watched herself approach. Watched the arm she had upraised against the wind and snow, the pinched expression on her face. The exhaustion.

She stopped three feet away. She did not dare touch it.

It only showed Feyre herself. Nothing.

Feyre scanned the mirror for any signs of… something to push or touch with her magic. But there was only the devouring head of the serpent, its maw open wide, frost sparkling on its fangs.

Feyre stared and stared, but all she saw was herself. There was nothing else. Then—

Feyre woke with a gasp, sitting up in bed to shake away the cobwebs of sleep and the strange, foreboding feeling that felt draped around her shoulders like a weighted cape, pulling her down. It hadn’t been a particularly horrifying nightmare. In fact, it was perhaps of the tamer dreams she’d had in the last year.

Yet something about it clung to her, perhaps a lingering agitation that she’d yet to retrieve the mirror the Bone Carver had requested. That must be it.

The bed space beside her was cold. The sun peaking through the window was not high, it couldn’t be long past dawn. However worrisome her own dream, her mate’s must have been worse to draw him from sleep so early. Worse still for him to sneak away.

Feyre rose from the bed, reaching absently for Rhysand’s dressing robe to wrap around herself. She always loved to steal her mate’s clothes, to be wrapped in his scent.

With gentle steps, she made her way to the study, where she could only assume Rhys had sequestered himself in the lone hours of the night. She’d noticed the weary draw to his shoulders, the dark circles under his eyes. This war was weighing on him heavily, and he was nervous. Feyre wished he didn’t insist on shouldering the burden alone.

“Rhys?” Feyre called softly as she got to the study, knocking on the door before she cracked it open.

Peeking her head around the door, she was met with the sight of Rhysand’s abandoned study. The scattered papers and war maps that had become characteristic of his desk space were surprisingly missing. In fact, the whole space had been cleared away and there was a thick layer of dust on every surface as if no one had been in here in years.

Feyre frowned at the sight, and how different it had been just the day before. Where had all the dust come from? And more importantly, where was Rhys? Perhaps he’d taken a morning flight to clear his head.

Where are you, love? She called to him through the mating bond, but was met with silence.

“Who are you?”

The voice was cold and venomous. Feyre turned, coming face to face with Mor, whose face was twisted into a threatening scowl.

“Mor?” Feyre asked, confused by her friend’s cold demeanor. “What do you mean? Have you seen Rhys?”

Mor’s face turned deadly, a look Feyre had only ever seen from Mor in the Court of Nightmares. “Is that some kind of joke?” she snarled.

Then, before Feyre could process what was happening, Mor had gripped onto Feyre’s wrist and they were enveloped in darkness. They stepped into the House of Wind, into the dining room where Cassian and Azriel abruptly stood up.

“Mor?” Feyre questioned when the blonde didn’t release her steel grip. She looked to Cassian and Azriel quizzically. “Guys? What’s going on?”

Cassian crossed his arms, assessing Feyre with a hostility that put her on edge. “Who’s this, Mor?” he asked gruffly.

Feyre frowned as she watched Azriel reach for Truth-Teller.

“Is this a joke?” she asked, flitting her eyes to each of her friends. Where she sought that friendly warmth in each of their gazes she was met with hard stares, filled with distrust, ready for a brawl. She couldn’t make sense of it. Was this an act Rhys had put them up to?

“I found her in the townhouse,” Mor said. “I don’t know how she got in there. She was in Rhysand’s study.”

“And she’s wearing his dressing gown,” Azriel noted dryly. Cassian did a double glance, his eyes going wide, then narrowing with a rage Feyre had never seen from the male. Certainly never directed at her.

There was a whisper of shadow, then suddenly Azriel was behind her, Truth-Teller poised at her throat.

Feyre startled. “Azriel!” she said sharply. Even if it was a joke, Feyre couldn’t imagine Rhysand would sanction this kind of threat. And the energy in the room was off, the tension too thick. “Stand down.”

“And who are you,” he breathed in her ear, his voice coated in shadow and nightmare, “to command the Shadowsinger of the Night Court?”

“I’m your High Lady,” Feyre answered steadily, not letting Azriel’s shadows, nor cunning voice, shake her resolve. “Now, I don’t know what is going on with the three of you, or what strange joke you’re trying to pull, but you will listen to what I say. Put. Your. Knife. Down.”

“High Lady?” Cassian repeated with a snort of disbelief. “You’ve got balls, little girl.”

Truth-Teller danced across the skin of her neck, pressing lightly enough to intimidate without breaking skin. “Do you even know to whom you speak? You should be bowing before the acting Queen of the Night Court.”

Too stunned to properly resist, Azriel kicked his feet out to knock Feyre to her knees in front of Mor. His fingers slid into her hair, gripping it tightly to pull her head back as Truth-Teller resumed its threatening position at her throat.

“Breaking into the High Lord’s personal residence, impersonating a high position within the Night Court, lying to the Morrigan’s face,” Azriel listed, increasing the pressure of the blade with each transgression. “You throw our High Lord’s generosity and protection in his face, something we as his acting Court do not take lightly.”

“Acting court? Acting Queen?” Feyre repeated, feeling as if she’d woken to a different reality. “What are you talking about? Where’s Rhysand!?”

“We’re the ones asking the questions here,” Cassian growled.

Feyre looked to each of her friends, studying their faces. Beyond their militant expression, she could see their grief. Could smell it. She repeated, “where is Rhysand?”

She felt the snarl that rumbled through Azriel’s chest behind her, vibrating against her back. When the question was once again unanswered, Feyre abandoned all sense of patience.

Darkness exploded through the room. She heard Mor gasp as the walls of the House shook from the might of her power. Feyre folded into the shadows, winnowing out of Azriel’s grasp so she stood in the center of the three of them.

“Az, Cass, Mor, you are my friends and I do not want to hurt you. But I am also your High Lady and you will answer me this instant, where is Rhys? Where is my mate!?”

Siphons gleamed red and blue through the thick tendrils of night, illuminating the Illyrian males’ faces. Cassian’s jaw had fallen open, while Azriel was studying her through narrowed eyes, wisps of shadow surrounding him. Feyre wondered what they were whispering to him.

“Mate?” Cassian echoed, the first to break the heavy silence.

Mor took a cautious step forward, her countenance completely changed. Her pupils were blown wide, twin brown depths churning with sorrow and gentle astonishment. Azriel went rigid at Mor’s approach, but no one moved to stop her as she came face to face with Feyre.

“Where did you get this?” she whispered, taking Feyre’s left hand, eye fixed on her mating band. On the sapphire-star ring that once belonged to Rhysand’s mother.

All eyes befell the subject of Mor’s attention. Cassian swore softly in recognition.

“It’s my mating band,” Feyre answered measuredly, still puzzled that the inner circle, her family, didn’t seem to have any memory of it. Nor of her. “I won it from the Weaver, as was the task set by Rhysand’s mother. But you were all there for that. I don’t understand what’s going on. Where. Is. Rhys?”

“Under the Mountain,” Mor whispered, her voice soft and pained.

The darkness ebbed away like a receding tide. Feyre felt her heart sink as she tried to process this information. “He—What?”

“He’s been Under the Mountain for the last 50 years,” Mor said, firmer this time. “And if you were his so-called mate, you would know that.”

“No,” Feyre said, shaking her head vehemently. “No, that’s impossible. We got out. We—”

This was a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare, and she just hadn’t woken up from it.

“Amarantha’s dead,” Feyre insisted, mostly in an attempt to console the unparalleled grief and panic that were raging inside her. “She’s dead, and Rhys and I got out.”

The grim faces of her friends said otherwise. They stared at her, in unbearable mixtures of pity and horror.

“I think she’s having a mental break,” Cassian said, not unkindly. “Should we get a healer?”

“Let me show you,” Feyre said meekly, casting her magic out to tap on their mental shields.

They all tensed, clearly not aware they’d been in the presence of a daemati. Trained well by Rhys, they all cracked their shields just enough for Feyre to send her conjured memories through. She showed them going Under the Mountain as a human, winning the trials and being resurrected, falling in love with Rhys, and eventually becoming High Lady of the Night Court. In turn, the three of them pushed back their own memories, of the current state of the world. Of Rhysand sacrificing himself so that his Court and Velaris would be safe.

A sob broke out of Feyre. “How is this possible? How am I here?”

It was Azriel who immediately went for the jugular. “More importantly, if you’re here as a High Fae, how is Rhys going to get out? How do we stop Amarantha?”

Feyre fell to her knees, grief-stricken by this realization. She was no longer human. She couldn’t stride in as Tamlin’s human lover and undergo the trials. Feyre had her powers, but they were untested. Would she be able to take on the whole of Amarantha’s court?

“What do I do? How do I save him?” she whimpered, staring in mute horror at her mating band.

Mor tentatively reached forward, laying a comforting hand on Feyre’s shoulder. “Rhys sacrificed himself to keep the people he loves safe. He wouldn’t want you getting yourself killed trying to save him.”

“I have to try,” Feyre answered desperately. “Amarantha she’s…” Feyre couldn’t bring herself to say the word, rape. Not to his family, who wear his sacrifice for them like an open wound. “She’s doing unspeakable things to him. He’s suffering so much. I can’t leave him to that fate. I have to try.”

With renewed conviction, Feyre accepted Mor’s outstretched hand and picked herself to her feet. “Rhys said it himself once. Amarantha’s biggest weapon is that she keeps the High Lord’s power contained. She can’t access them herself. But I… I have access to all the High Lords’ powers. And that bitch has my mate. My wrath will be plenty to take her down.” She faced her friends, who watched her warily. “You have my word as your High Lady,” she swore to them. “The High Queen of Prythian is going to fall by the night’s end.”

⟡⟡⟡

Winter had not yet fallen in the Mortal Lands. Feyre wondered if across the world, there was a version of herself curled in a bed with her sisters, clinging to any shred of warmth and survival.

That version of Feyre was very different from the version who strode up the sloping hills of the Spring Court with Azriel by her side. Rhys would be furious that Feyre had allowed him to accompany her. Should anything go wrong, it would destroy her mate to know his family had been put in harm's way after everything he’d done to protect them. Which was why it was only Azriel who came with, the only compromise she could reach with his Inner Circle, who insisted on coming with.

Who better to sneak into the Mountain with than the very soldier who taught Feyre the art of stealth. He was the obvious choice, since Mor needed to stay to rule the Night Court and Cassian was too heavy-handed to handle such a delicate task.

Their footfall was silent. Feyre wrapped them in the shadow of Night as they winnowed through the cave network. Her heart hammered in her chest, panicked to be back in the source of so many nightmares.

But Rhysand was more important than her fear. For him, she would not falter.

With the Shadowsinger by her side, Feyre snuck through the winding tunnels until she came to a familiar passageway. They slid into a massive, dark bedroom, lit only by a few candles.

To attack Amarantha in the throne room would be too messy. Too many variables to contend with, should Amarantha have enough wit about her to use any faeries as a shield. Especially Rhysand.

After several hours of waiting, the lock on the door clicked and swung open. Darkness swirled around the room as Rhysand took in the sight of Feyre and Azriel on the bed.

Immediately, the door slammed shut.

“No,” he whispered, voice dripping with horror. “No.”

“Rhys—” Feyre started, but her mate wasn’t paying any attention to her. He was looking at Azriel as if his whole world had shattered.

“Leave,” he said, his voice cold and commanding. This was no happy reunion between brothers. This was Rhysand’s worst nightmare. “Leave this instant, you stupid fool. That is, if you’re lucky enough to have avoided detection when you passed under her wards.”

“I took down the wards,” Feyre said. They weren’t particularly strong, either. Amarantha had gotten lazy, perhaps thinking herself secure with the only spell-cleaver under her control. Or so she believed.

Rhys turned that quiet fury towards her. “And who are you?”

“Your mate,” Feyre answered steadily, tipping her chin up.

Rhysand laughed. A desperate, humorless sound. “Then you are just as foolish as my idiot brother. And you have both sealed your deaths by being here. Do you understand that?”

Feyre scratched along those familiar adamantite shields. Rhys’s eyes flickered in surprise, but otherwise he looked unruffled as he cracked a sliver open for her.

It would be unwise to underestimate me, mate.

I wouldn’t be going around boasting about such a thing, if what you claim is even true, came his icy response. And I wouldn’t count on a few party tricks to save you, either.

And what if I told you, she purred, that I possess the power of all seven High Lords?

That, at least, garnered a reaction from the stoic male. He narrowed his eyes in disbelief, studying Feyre carefully. His gaze caught on her hands, at the lace tattoos that flowed to her fingers. And the mating band she still wore.

Feyre watched those violet eyes go wide, the silver constellations dancing in astonishment at the sight of his mother’s ring.

Where did you get that?

It’s a long story, love, but you’re going to have to trust me. She lowered her mental shields completely. Have a look for yourself. I’m telling you no lies. I am your High Lady, and I am here to free my husband.

She felt those familiar talons wrap around her mind. A foolish thing to do, to give a daemati unrestricted access to her mind. And if it were anyone but Rhys, it would have been. But his touch was gentle, and he took only the information he needed.

“I don’t understand how this is possible,” he whispered, breaking the silence of the room. Azriel had been waiting patiently, but looked relieved to be included in the conversation once more. “And I hate that you’ve put yourselves in danger for this, but it could work.”

Rhys considered for a long moment, then he looked between Feyre and Azriel and said, “do it when she’s sleeping. That bitch has been playing dirty for 50 years, you might as well level the playing field to give yourselves the best chance. Let’s do it tonight. I’ll leave the door unlocked, wear her out, and signal you once she’s asleep. Her spell prevents me from harming her, but I’ll make sure she’s restrained. All you have to do is drive the ash dagger through her heart, but have your magic ready for damage control.”

⟡⟡⟡

Feyre and Azriel waited in Rhysand’s bedchambers for his signal. There was a revelry tonight, as there was every night Under the Mountain, and Rhys was expected to be in attendance. Afterwards, he’d join Amarantha in her bed and make sure she was, in his words, “thoroughly exhausted”.

It was torturous for Feyre. To know exactly what the implication in those words were, to have to use her mate’s body in such a way. She wanted to roar at the Mountain, at the Cauldron, at anything that would listen, but instead she was next to the quiet, brooding Shadowsinger, and lamented in silence.

She’d begged Rhys to reconsider, to perhaps help them stage a more physical encounter that didn’t rely on his own suffering. But he’d denied any plan but the one he’d proposed, insisting it would cause him more anguish to but Feyre and Azriel in harm's way.

So they waited the long, agonizing hours until she felt a delicate pull at her chest. She’s asleep, Rhys called. Be on your guard.

He sent her directions to Amarantha’s bedchambers. There were guards outside, but Feyre and Azriel winnowed past them, cloaked in night and shadow.

Amarantha’s bedchambers were huge. Feyre had never been inside them before, but she was unsurprised to see they provided any luxury a High Queen could wish for.

Atop a large bed of red, silken sheets, lay her mate and Amarantha, both stark naked. The smell of sex clung to the air, Rhysand and Amarantha’s scents intertwined. Feyre thought she might be sick.

Even more sickening was the sight before her, of Amarantha’s arms restrained to the headboard in cloth. A clever way for Rhys to restrain her under the guise of sex, but horrifying nonetheless, to see the proof of what they’d been up to. The female was fast asleep, so convinced of her authority that she could fall asleep tied-up and not feel vulnerable doing so. How satisfying, Feyre thought, that such arrogance would be her downfall.

Feyre warded the room, putting up a shield of darkness so that no sound would break through to alert the guards. Rhys watched their approach warily from where he perched beside Amarantha, so still Feyre was convinced he held his breath.

He wouldn’t risk moving to wake her up, which terrified Feyre. Should something go wrong, her mate would be susceptible to Amarantha’s wrath. Naked, vulnerable, and completely under her control. It was such a dangerous game they were playing.

The room was as quiet and still as the bewitching hours of the night, their footsteps silent as they picked across the room. Azriel held the ash dagger. If Rhys could not kill Amarantha, his brother wanted to do it on his behalf. Meanwhile, Feyre summoned tendrils of night that carefully wrapped around Amarantha’s legs, slithering up her body like a snake, ready to constrict and restrain.

The female stirred in her sleep, perhaps feeling the ghostlike touch of Feyre’s magic. But she did not wake. Not as Azriel raised the dagger over her chest, and not as he plunged it down.

Amarantha’s eyes shot open as the dagger pierced her chest. She let out a shriek of agony and ire, moving to claw at her attacker. She raged against the restraints, spewing obscenities until they died at her lips as the blade sunk into her heart.

Rhysand’s chest was heaving as he watched the female still, then slump. He looked from her dead body, to Azriel and Feyre.

Feyre’s heart sank as she watched her mate process that it was truly over. There wasn’t a trace of elation in his eyes at being liberated, but she understood why. Rhys would finally be returning home, but as a much different man than the one he had been. He’d survived, but not unscathed, and he’d need time to process this.

Feyre came to him, reached towards her mate with the hand that bore his mother’s ring. Rhys looked to it, then up to her. His eyes were clouded with sorrow, with a melancholy she could only hope to chip away at in time. But she could see stirring beneath it was a breath of hope, perhaps the first he’d allowed himself in a long time.

“Let’s go home, Rhys,” she said gently.

Slowly, Rhysand nodded, moving to grasp her hand. She felt him jolt at the touch and, as she glanced at him questioningly, she saw his lips part in wonder.

I suppose you weren’t lying about being my mate, he whispered, the words a sensual brush in her mind. Thank you for coming to rescue me, High Lady.

Feyre grasped onto Azriel, and together the three of them stepped into darkness.

Then, they were above the House of Wind, tumbling through the night sky. Feyre unfurled her wings before Rhys could move to catch them, worried that her mate would struggle after 50 years without flight.

Both males stared in astonishment at the sight. Rhysand’s eyes danced in awe as Feyre, albeit clumsily, carried them to the training ring on the roof.

Rhys snapped his own wings open as they landed. Feyre watched him tilt his head back in rapture as he felt the wind against his wings for the first time in decades. Then he opened his eyes, his expression shifting to reverence as he beheld the night sky.

“I was beginning to think I’d never see it again,” he whispered, his voice a heartbreaking blend of exaltation and disbelief. “And for this gift… for my salvation to be courtesy of my mate and of my brother… I’m a bit overwhelmed,” he admitted sheepishly.

Feyre hesitated. If this was the Rhysand from before, the one to which she was mated and married, she would come to comfort him. But this version of Rhys had only just been freed from enslavement, and she didn’t know what he needed.

As though sensing her hesitation, Rhys cast his eyes back to the sky. “I know they’re all waiting for me downstairs, but I’d like a little bit of time with the stars. Will you let them know, Az?”

Azriel nodded, though he seemed conflicted. His reunion with his brother was perhaps not as merry as the male had expected. But right now, she knew the Inner Circle would hardly deny Rhys anything. Perhaps for a long while yet. So Azriel headed downstairs to inform their friends, who were sure to be anxiously awaiting their arrival.

Rhysand regarded Feyre carefully once the two of them were alone. “Mate and High Lady,” he mused. “You seem to wear many hats.”

“You forgot ‘wife’,” Feyre said lightly.

“Yes, and ‘Salvation’, ‘Queen Killer’, ‘Most Beautiful Female in Prythian’, it seems there’s many things I could call you. Could we start with your name, perchance?”

Feyre was shocked. She’d assumed he’d taken such information out of her mind earlier, but it seems he’d been even more respectful than she’d expected.

“Feyre,” she answered. “My name is Feyre.”

He looked wonderstruck. “Feyre,” he repeated, testing the name on his lips. A gentle smile curled at the corners of his mouth, the first she’d seen from him yet. He extended his hand towards her. “Would you like to watch the stars with me, Feyre?”

It was an offer she couldn’t refuse. Her hand found his with all the casual grace of a dancer, as if it were a routine they’d been perfecting their whole lives. Their fingers interlocked and as one, they stared up at the dazzling night sky.

This reality wasn’t perfect, Feyre thought. This Rhys was different from her own, and he still had a lot of healing to do. But if she could be there for him, to help him in a ways she hadn’t before, then she would be grateful to the strange eddies of the Cauldron for bringing her here. For allowing her to end his torment early. For giving them this extra time.

She watched a shooting star dart across the sky and smiled as it passed. There was nothing she could wish for except that her mate find peace in all that he’d endured the last half century.

His deep, velvety voice cut through the silence. “Do you often wish on stars, Feyre?”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was watching her with a heart-wrenching wistfulness.

“Only when I have a wish worthy of the stars.”

“And do you?”

Feyre looked to the northernmost star, which shined brightest in the sky. “I wished for a light in the darkness,” she told him. “I don’t think the stars would ever begrudge such a wish.”

Rhysand nodded solemnly. “It’s true that they would be begrudging themselves in doing so. But I see no need for you to wish for such a thing.”

Feyre looked to him. He was still watching her, but something in him had shifted. He was smiling at her gently, that lingering sadness already receding. “Why’s that?” she asked cautiously.

That gentle smile widened, showing off his brilliant teeth. “Why, Feyre, to find such a thing, all you’d need to do is look in a mirror.”

#prompt fill #anon request #Feysand #Feysand fic #Inner Circle #Feysand fluff because I can't help myself #mentions of rape #Mentions of SA #acotar #acotar fic #time travel

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hnychn · 3 years

Text

KARASUNO’S MANAGER !!

SYPNOSIS — it’s a new year and the karasuno team decides to throw a new years party in the school gym

WARNINGS — tooth rotting fluff <3

AUTHOR’S NOTE — none of this is realistic but shut up and let me live laugh and love with the idea it’s real

⇀ HAPPY NEW YEARS BABESS

⇀ so it all started out when noya and tanaka came up with the brilliant idea to throw a new years party

⇀ and since canonically, everyone in haikyuu are losers, everyone agreed 😀

⇀ of course you invited your boo kenma 😼 and the nekoma team

⇀ and kuroo invited the fukurodani team since bokuto heard about the party somehow

⇀ the party is held in the gym, it's byoc

⇀ "bring your own cups"

⇀ cause y'all broke broke 😭😭✋🏼

⇀ kidding . . . about the cup part, y'all are broke though . . .

⇀ anyways, so the team put you in charge of getting the drinks

⇀ . . . but they never specified non-alcoholic 😼

⇀ so you, being the six foot seven giant you were, got some alcohol

⇀ it was surprisingly easy

⇀ like the guy behind the counter didn't even ask you for an ID or anything and he probably assumed you were 21+ because of your features 🤡

⇀ i mean you do be chiselled by the gods themselves 🤪🥴

⇀ not me simping over you 🤺

⇀ so the party is about to start and you come in with literal bottle of alcohol like fUCKING JACK DANIEL'S AND WHISKEY AND RUM AND ALL THAT SHIT

⇀ and when daichi saw you with all the paper bags filled with bottles of alcohol he just-

⇀ . . . 🧍🏽‍♀️

⇀ "y/n. . ."

⇀ "yes? 🤠"

⇀ "why. . .why do you have alcohol?"

⇀ "you said to get drinks. ."

⇀ "i mEANT PUNCH-"

⇀ all daichi wanted to do was punch you 🏌️🏽‍♀️

⇀ LMAO BUT NOYA AND TANAKA TURNT UP WITH THE ALCOHOL

⇀ they poured that shit into those punch bowls? ya know? the ones in those cliche highschool movies

⇀ they got red solo cups and everything 🔫

⇀ anyways, so people start showing up and daichi panics because no sir, these minors aren't getting drink on his watch, but oops-

⇀ kiyoko locked him in the shortage closet 👁

⇀ "i'll let you out in 20 minutes"

⇀ because babes knew that's all it'll take for everyone to be blackout drunk

⇀ and she was right 💅🏽

⇀ fifteen minutes into the party, noya, tanaka, yamamoto, lev and a bunch of first years are drunk drunk.

⇀ suga, kuroo, asahi, and ennoshita are also drunk but like they're the chill typa drunk y'know?

⇀ they playing a game of uno with normal playing cards 🧍🏽‍♀️

⇀ kenma . . . doesn't want to be there BLESS HIM LMAO-

⇀ he's sitting in the corner, red solo cup in hand because kuroo took his pspspsp and won't give it back, even if he is drunk

⇀ and you- good god

⇀ YOU. ARE. D R U N K.

⇀ i'm talking the embarrassing type of drunk

⇀ you're dancing on one of the volleyball poles like a fucking stripper and bokuto is throwing napkins at you like they're ones please- 🔫

⇀ kenma is just in the corner staring like 🐚🌝 hello yes, officer? imma need animal control here asap.

⇀ LIKE DJFJD WTF IS MY BF DOINGG

⇀ he's embarrassed for you 😔✋🏼

⇀ but in the corner of your eye you see kenma sitting all alone so you go over to him, alcohol nearly spilling over the side of your red solo cup

⇀ "what're you doin all alone here, kitten?"

⇀ kenma crinkles his nose because you smell like alcohol, but he just shrugs

⇀ he says something but you can't hear him over he loud music, so you lean closer but you end up spilling your drink all over your shirt and you just

⇀ "ew it's sticky . . . i guess I'll just take it off"

⇀ SO YOU DO

⇀ IN A CROWDED ROOM

⇀ OF DRUNK POSSIBLY NOT STRAIGHT MEN

⇀ and holy fuck-

⇀ how knew you were so foine 🥴🥴

kenma's eyes widen when you suddenly pull off your shirt, your chest still slightly damp from the drink spilling on you. he could feel heat rushing to his face the longer he stared. kenma wanted to look away, he really did, but it was something about the way you rubbed your hands over your abs and chest to wipe off the moisture and the way you looked down with hooded eyes that had him entranced. he couldn't look away, and by the sight of the other people in the room also staring at you with no shame, they couldn't either.

despite being drunk, you could tell people were staring and it filled you with a sort of confidence you only got in the privacy of your room with kenma. speaking of kenma, he wasn't fairing any better. his head was turned to the side to look away, but his eyes betrayed him and stayed focused on your chest.

you smirked.

kenma gasped as you suddenly leaned forward, your hand slamming onto the wall next to him and the other pushing him by the hip, your cold fingers slithering up his shirt and sending chills up his spine. your breathe was warm next to his ear and kenma's blush intensified.

"see something you like, kitten?"

kenma's breathing began to get heavier the longer you whispered in his ear, his chest and pants tightening. kenma refused to look up, knowing half of the people in the gym were staring, but he would by lying if he said it didn't turn him on more than he already was.

your stopped whispering in kenma's ear and began trailing kisses down his jaw and neck, leaving marks behind. kenma had to bite his bottom lip to stop noises from escaping his mouth, but his restraint was limited due to the small amount of alcohol in his system.

your fingers traveled further up his shirt and caressed his waist, pulling him closer to you. pulling away from his neck, you turned to his lips, sucking and biting on them as if it would be the last time you would be able to. kenma's neck was littered with hickies that, even in the darkness of the gym, were extremely visible.

but before things could go any further, you were ripped away from kenma by a fuming daichi, "first you bring alcohol and get everyone drunk, then you try to fuck your boyfriend in the middle of the gym? i'm gonna kill you, y/n."

⇀ you were put on daichi watch for the rest of the night 😔🔫

⇀ but by the time 11 rolled around, you were a bit sober so i guess that's good

⇀ everyone gathered into he middle of the gym and counted down until midnight

⇀ kiyoko and yachi had hung some of those colour changing lights and gave the room some amazing vibes

⇀ and kenma was standing next to you, your arm slung over his shoulder as the lights hit his face perfectly and outlined every feature of his beautifully

⇀ you smiled down at him

"it's already 2021, huh?"

kenma looked up at you and immediately looked away when he saw that you were already looking at him. even after months of dating and nights spent in each other's embrace, he still got nervous when you looked at him the way you were right now.

eyes so full of love and lips pulled into a satisfied smile.

"yeah. . . i guess. . ."

you laughed and pulled him closer to your side, kenma stumbled a bit and grasped onto the new shirt you put on. it was a spare that you left behind in the clubroom one day.

"c'mon kenma! new year, new possibilities! what are your new years resolutions?"

kenma shrugged, burying his head deeper into your side, "i don't have any."

5 . . .

you smiled, "really?"

you looked back up at the digital clock kiyoko hung up on the wall just for new years, your smile never faltering. kenma loved that about you, your ability to smile no matter what. no matter the circumstances.

4 . . .

"what about you?" kenma asked, a small bubble of guilt building in his chest for not answering how he thought you wanted.

you looked down at him with the same lovesick eyes and satisfied smile, kenma felt his heart stop, "me?"

you looked back up at the clock, "hmm. . ."

3 . . .

"i think. . . " you drew out, a playful smile on your face when kenma pouted at your long answer. he slapped your chest when you laughed at him.

2 . . .

"i think," you tugged kenma in front of you and rested your chin on his head, a lazy smile drawn on your face as everyone else yelled about, excited for the new year.

1 . . .

"i think i have everything i could ever want right here."

HAPPY NEW YEARS!!

kenma gasped as you suddenly turned him around, lifting his face by the chin. everyone around you cheered as the clock hit 12 and it was now January 1, 2021.

kenma's heart pounded when he saw the same old lazy smirk on your face and the same old lovesick look in your eyes; but no matter how many times he's seen it, he would always feel the butterflies fluttering in hit stomach.

"happy new years, kenma." you whispered as you pulled him into a kiss.

what a way to start the new years.

⇀ everything after that was a blur

⇀ the party amping up as a way to start the new years and you were sure even daichi had a cup full of some unholy concoction of alcohol kiyoko made for him

⇀ when you woke up, you were in bed, kenma laying a your side.

⇀ with close on, y'nasties 👁

⇀ your head felt like it was going to explode and your stomach turned in ways it shouldn't

⇀ but you were too lazy to get outta bed

⇀ me 🤡

⇀ so you just pulled kenma closer and went back to sleep

⇀ dreaming of a happy future with the man in your arms

taglist:: @stickystrawberrysyrup @420-uwu @nvthvlyy @kaiwai @goshizaki-jun @thetrash-mammal @dprhvn @bakuhore

a/n :: i'll add the read more thing in the morning, i gotta start getting dressed for the new year party. this was kinda rushed too so sorry if it's a bit jumbled or something

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x manager #haikyuu x male reader #karasuno's male manager #karasuno x male manager #karasuno manager #haikyuu manager #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#kenma x male reader #kenma x reader

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aza-writes · 2 years

Text

Blood Red : Chapter 2

Rich, Red, Magnificent

TW: A LOT of blood talk and kinda pervert-ish and sex worker-ish talk.

New York : 2016

It's stuffy in here. There are so many people moving back and forth, running from place to place. I always heard stories about New York, the city that never sleeps. No wonder they call it that, it's 3 am and people are running around this airport like it's about to explode. I've learned not to trust people so I grip my suitcase and my passport a little tighter.

Is the passport real? No.

Does it look real? Hell yes.

The reason the passport is fake: technically I don't exist. According to Russia Aleksandra Nikitina died in 2008 with her parents, but Alice Solovyova is alive and well, she's also an American citizen.

I get shuffled into a line with a woman checking passports. I have been waiting for about half an hour now standing next to a kid who doesn't know how to cover when he sneezes. Gross. I know why Dreykov trained women, boys are disgusting.

Dreykov.

The thought of Dreykov makes my heart feel heavy, I start to feel sad but I shake my head at the thought. Sadness is weakness, he taught me that. I focus on replacing this sad feeling with anger, another thing Dreykov taught me. It isn't hard to replace my sadness since I have someone to be angry at; Natasha Romanov. She took Dreykov from me.

By no means was Dreykov a saint, but he had a soft spot for me. Natasha gave him a bad reputation. If you obeyed him, he rewarded you. We only hurt those who deserved it. I never deserved to be harmed so I was never harmed. It was that simple. I was his pride, the KGB's best fighter. I was the first to be chosen for the hardest missions. There was a joke going around that I should be called the Golden Widow.

Being Dreykov's favorite came with its perks. I was allowed to go to fancy galas, yes it was to be a bodyguard but I got to wear dresses and makeup without being undercover. I was allowed one nice meal and a glass of champagne. I was spoiled compared to the other girls, but I never knew if they liked me or not. We didn't have true emotions besides anger and aggression. We could sometimes feel sadness but we wouldn't tell anyone, or we would be punished. There were two types of punishment: torture and death. Of course, there were different levels of torture but sometimes people begged for death after what they went through. With my punishment- no, don't think about it. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Repress and forget.

"Next!"

The lady's voice breaks me out of my thoughts. I didn't realize I'd been staring off for 5 minutes. I stayed silent as I handed her my passport and a fake ID. The lady looked at my papers and then back to my face.

"Russia?"

"Yes ma'am." I did my best American accent, which was very good if I do say so myself.

"You're a fan of the cold huh?" Her small talk is absolutely pathetic. She's just here to wear out the clock like everyone else here. Americans are supposed to be nice so I put on a fake smile and try to not roll my eyes.

"Yes ma'am, I have family there." I smile trying to look innocent. God knows that my ledger doesn't just have blood in it, it's drowning with blood, smothered. Innocent is the complete opposite of me, in every sense of the word.

The lady hands me my papers back after stamping my passport. "Welcome back to the United States Ms. Solovyova." I smile and grab my papers. I can't get out of this hell while they call an airport fast enough.

• • • • • •

The taxi driver is my kind of guy; no talking, no bullshit. I have no place to go to, but fake it until you make it right? That should be America's motto. Everyone here is fake, it's disgusting and almost poetic. It reminds me of the cartoon movie with the superhero family. If everyone is fake, then no one is.

I look in my backpack to see how much money I have. $1,000. That's it. I have $1,000 to live off of in one of the most expensive cities in America. I need a way to make money as a female who stopped attending school years ago and has no skills other than ballet and how to kill someone without leaving evidence. Totally normal things for a 16-year-old to know how to do.

Finally, the driver stops at a run-down motel in Hell's Kitchen, the cheapest place I could find. I quickly grab my bags and toss the man his money, he's acting like a creep. Right on cue, I hear gunshots. I make a mental note of my surroundings before walking into the bacteria playground of a motel, my gun is tucked into the back of my jeans. After having another mind-numbing conversation with the mouth breather at the front desk I finally get to rest. After being awake for 72 hours, I get to lie on a bed. I don't know what possessed me but I giggled when I laid down on it. It has some sort of stuffing to it, making it automatically ten times better than I was predicting. I take out a pair of handcuffs and after fastening it to the bed, I clip the other side to my wrist. I remove the pillow from the bed and start to drift off to sleep. Old habits die hard.

• • • • • •

It's dark. I try to open my eyes but they feel like they're swollen shut. There's blood on me, some mine, some not. Footsteps are getting louder and louder until they stop. I can feel the person's body next to me, their breath against my face.

"Попробуй еще раз, где мальчик?"

(Try again, where is the boy?)

My breath gets caught in my throat.

"Я не знаю. Я так и не нашел его."

(I don't know. I never found him)

A sigh comes from the guard's lips. "Я верил в тебя." (I had faith in you). I hear him take his belt. "Подумай еще раз, Сложнее." (think again, harder).

I can hear the belt move back and swooshing towards my face, I try to brace for impact and-

My eyes open so fast that the room appears blurry. When they finally adjust I look at the alarm clock. 5:46 am. I groan. Only one and a half hours of sleep. I unlock myself from the handcuff going to grab the water bottle out of my bag when I hear the most obnoxious sound coming from the room next to me, a baby crying.

My water bottle is warm. I'm trying to think if it's worth it to go to the ice machine but that baby's whaling is distracting me.

Deep breaths, happy thoughts, happy things.

Okay, just go get ice and- OH FOR FUCK SAKE WILL THAT BABY SHUT UP

I shake my head, I'm over-tired and I need to sleep. I decided to walk outside to get some fresh air. As I step outside the sound of a baby crying is replaced with city sounds, mostly traffic. I don't pay too much attention to the sounds until I hear footsteps, not coming toward me, but there's a voice attached to them. It's foreign, but nothing exotic. Most likely Northwestern Europe. Most likely on the phone. He's speaking... mandarin? Definitely mandarin. I take a small peak around the corner and notice his suit. Expensive fabric, another warning sign. Why the fuck is there a European guy speaking mandarin outside of the motel I just so happen to be staying at? That doesn't add up.

I pull the gun out from the back of my jeans and slowly walk toward the voice. The sounds get momentarily distant, meaning his back is towards me. I take this opportunity to swing my legs up and around his neck, pulling him to the ground while knocking his phone out of his hand in the process. I wrap one arm around his neck, my legs pinning him close to my body so he can't move and I point my gun at his temple. "你为谁工作?" (Who do you work for?).

"你他妈的不关你的事" (none of your business)

"Fucking answer me. Or I swear I'll blow your brains out."

"Kinky." He smirks. What a pervert.

While he's giggling about his brilliant, note the sarcasm, joke I bring his face into my knee. "I'm a minor jackass."

"Makes you worth more amongst buyers." He then brings a hand up to grab my gun. I need information so don't shoot him, but I hit him with the end. He gets up and tries to grab me, he's starting to really piss me off now.

We went back and forth a bit then bam, I get him in the nose. Blood. Rich, red, magnificent blood. My throat gets dry, my eyes start to slowly dilate.

I wanna make him bleed more.

I aim for the mouth, if I knock out a tooth it'll poor from his lips. The world around him gets darker, and the man himself turns black and white. I can only see blood, the bright red is intoxicating to look at. I keep kicking and attacking with no end. I get his mouth, then his ear, and finally I got to knock him to the ground. I climb on top of him punishing him over and over and over and over again. I bet no one could recognize him, not even his mother. I smile slightly, no it's a full-on giddy grin. He's gasping for air, there's blood all over his face, my hands, and a bit on my face. I brush the hair out of his face. "Тсс, там, я буду милосерден" (Shhhh, there there, I'll be merciful). He tries to get out some words, but I grab the back of his head with one hand, then...

Snap.

"Oops." I spit on him. "Мать-ублюдок." (Mother fucker)

I look down and see all the blood. I caused that. My goofy smile returns. The smell is overwhelming my senses. The feeling on my fingers is better than silk. I haven't allowed myself to kill like this in so long that I'm almost too caught up to hear the car pull up behind me.

Keyword: almost

I look up to see two men, clearly pissed at me. I grab my gun with my right hand aiming it at one of the two men. The bad thing about going undercover is I'm limited to the guns I can carry at my disposal. I raise my left hand too, I have my taser bracelet on.

The man on my left pulled out his gun, As I'm about to fire my gun I feel a soft sting in my neck. Not this again. I shoot my taser at the man to my right, at least he drops. I turn and fire it at two other men: both drop. My throat becomes dry in a new way, not the good kind. I drop to the ground. I start to cough. The men are talking, I think in English, but my mind is too fuzzy to comprehend anything. What I can comprehend are four blurry bodies. Oh fuck. I could have never taken seven men alone. T-that was... that was what was was good about the Widow p-p-p-program, we were never alone.

• • • • • •

Masterlists

#matt murdock x oc #wilson fisk #daredevil x oc #matt murdock #the defenders #the punisher x oc #matt murdock x reader #natasha romanoff #the punisher #daredevil #frank castle x oc #foggy nelson #blood red #frank castle #yelena belova

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inexplicifics · 3 years

Note

Figured I saw how you liked peeps putting their own flair into your universe so thought id actually sit down and join in, because ive had Thoughts about my own self insert in your universe already so why not share! Anyway heres a bullet list about them, Purnella of the Crane School!

first off gen. trivia—

-Was fifteen and fresh from their trials when Ciri was brought to Kaer Morhen

-Was one of the late comers to join the Warlord, since word is slow coming when you’re at sea without a sorcerer or xenovox

-Has a sketchbook filled with ink sketches of all the various creatures theyve come to know in their experience, and they use these illustrations to narrow down what a victim has seen because You have No Idea how little ‘It looked like a giant snake with pointy teeth and white eyes!’ narrows it down when it comes to sea creatures. They use the ribbon their best friend gave them as a bookmark in it.

-All cranes love gadgets. This is common knowledge. But the amount of different and unique devices Purnella uses is insane even by their standards— harpoon gun, crossbow with a grappling hook shot, pistol rounds that explode into a net when fired to easily take down and entangle targets without wounding them, and their favorite— a little wrist mounted hooking/trolley device that lets them navigate ship rigging like a zipline.

(this is just part one btw;;)

(ok heres part two)

now further plot slash backstory because im incredibly hyper-focused on character plots

-Early childhood was spent in an orphanage after being dropped off there as an infant, matron was never certain but most assumed they were born under a black sun

-Matron was always very strict when it came to chores, telling them if they dont make themselves useful , shell turn them out on the streets alone. Was probably never truly serious, but Purnella assumed she was and internalized the idea that ‘If I make myself useful, I get to stay with my friends/my school/the crew/etc’

-As a result they overworked themselves to the point of exhaustion for years, until they actually got sat down by Triss for it when the sorcerers joined them in the keep.

-Had a best friend named Shiloh, a elven girl who also lived in the orphanage (this is literally just my oc from dragon age inquisition, ive put a version of her and cole(a canon character from da:i) into quite a few diff medias because im unhealthily attached to them both. purnella is already my self insert im being self indulgent already so why not) who gifted her a little lilac ribbon the day they left after being ‘adopted’. Shiloh calls them Purnie. Shiloh also once taught them how to fold paper into shapes that look like various animals. no this isnt a joke about paper cranes what are you saying—

-Was ‘adopted’ by a noble who fancied himself a scientist and wanted to discover what makes the children of the black sun dangerous, as well as figure out if theres any distinct sign that someone was born under the black sun in general

-As a result, even before becoming a witcher they were covered in scars from multiple experiments. the main one being scars from a procedure more similar to a vivisection or autopsy than an actual surgery(they were ‘lucky’ enough that the bastard was rich enough to have proper medicine because he damn well wasnt properly trained)

-His manse laid on a seaside cliff, and when he had a Specially Important Visitor interested in his ‘findings’, Purnella was able to free themselves from their cell and launch themselves through a window, over the cliff, and into the sea

- cough cough it was stregobor the visitor was stregobor

-Purnella woke up on a ship, where theyd been pulled aboard after the crew had noticed something floating in the sea water

-This boat had a crane witcher on it, resulting in Purnella eventually being taken ‘under his wing’ as a trainee.

-Shiloh eventually shows up at Kaer Morhen to entreaty the White Wolf to help her avenge her friend, who never ended up visiting her again after being adopted by a man who has gone on to experiment and murder Several More children of the black sun since then

-Tbh Purnellas mostly just happy to see Shiloh and learn that she remembered them, and should probably be worried about the situation but is mostly just! rlly happy!!

—also side note shiloh had No Idea their friend purnie was actually Alive! and There!! so shes extremely happy. also she grew up to become someone with an encyclopedic knowledge of veterinarian medicine and animal trivia, so she ends up staying at the keep as their trusty vet along with her boyfriend cole who isnt actually human, hes a garkain, but hes shy and kind and helpful and doesnt hurt anyone and im Refusing to separate Shiloh and Cole in Any Universe i put them in, and so there

is this all an excuse to have them hunt down and go to war with/murder stregobor? yes because fuck him— and i cannot stress this enough— in the face with a chainsaw covered in pissed off hornets.

anyway im a big fan and keep coming back to this series for more so i hope you liked this slash wasnt annoyed by the ramblings;; have a good day!

Purnella sounds like a delight! I am extremely pleased to know you're having such fun in my sandbox.

(I couldn't figure in how to copy over the picrew but Purnella looks great!)

#questions answered #fic of my fic

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

The Holiday Diaster ~ SCB [Day Twenty Three: Advent Calendar]

WORD COUNT: 2.2K

GENRE: Prompt, fluffy, acquaintances to lovers

PAIRING: Changbin x Reader

The caller ID on your mobile wasn't one you were used to seeing too often. Changbin barely called you at all more often than not he only ever called you when you were with one of the other boys and they weren't answering him and he needed them for something. There was a gut feeling telling you that you should answer it, even if it was just to tell him that the boys weren't with you, it was Christmas eve they were all at the studio trying to get some work done before the holidays.

"Hi Changbin, the guys-" He cut you off talking in a panicked tone, you heard shuffling in the background and you frowned what could he be doing to make all of this noise?

"I know, please! Come around! I-I've done something and I need your help," He sounded panicked but it was normally like the guys to pull pranks on you so you had just assumed they'd somehow roped Changbin into it to make it more believable that something was ''wrong.''

"Yeah, right, what did you do burn the apartment down?" Your tone was laced with sarcasm as you laughed about it but you were met with a panicked yell as Changbin screamed,

"Yes! Please come to the dorms! It’s a Christmas disaster-" The line went dead, Changbin decided hanging up to control the fire would be better than letting it almost burn the entire dorms down. Panicking you rushed to grab your keys from your kitchen counter and headed out of your apartment building, practically sprinting down the stairs because the elevator took too long and in this cold climate you didn't trust it. The whole drive down you was trying to convince yourself that it was all some big joke, that Changbin wasn't actually dumb enough to burn the dorms down by accident...Maybe on purpose but not by accident.

"Y-You actually burnt the dorms down-" Your handbag dropped to the floor as you walked through to the kitchen of the Stray Kids dorms. Melted decorations were dripping onto the hardwood flooring below them, there was a tray of what looked like cookies on the counter.

"I was trying to make Felix's cookies and they sort of-"

"Exploded?" You questioned as you walked over to them, Changbin rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he began to realise the extent of what had happened in the kitchen. There were black burn marks up and down the wall behind the cooker,

"Seriously though...How?" As you stepped closer to the oven you answered your own question when you saw that the broiler was on, you felt your eyes roll as you turned to look at him.

"I thought you knew how to cook?" You teased as you began rolling up the sleeves of your hoodie and began searching around the cupboards for some cleaning supplies. It all needed to be cleaned before the boys got home and you assumed that was why he had called you over instead of them,

"I do, cook...Not bake." You giggled at the worried expression on his face,

"Get a bucket of hot water, a mop and some sponges. I'll run and get some more decorations when the floor and walls are cleaned and I'll help you,"

"You mean you'll stay?!" He tried to mask his excitement at the prospect of you staying to help him, you turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You called me to help...Didn't you?" He nodded smiling to himself as he went to get the bucket from the small cleaning cupboard. It was the real reason you and Changbin weren't as close as you were with the other boys, you had strong feelings for him but you didn't know it until it was too late. You both liked one another but never did anything about it, Changbin had never liked someone that much in a long time and had forgotten what it felt like to get so nervous around someone you stopped being able to function.

Sugar soap was the perfect thing to lift the staining from the tiles and floor but the burnt pan and cookies were gone for life. The cookies were so hard you could have used them for playing ice hockey,

"Do you still want cookies? I'll grab some ingredients while I'm getting decorations." You spoke out as Changbin continued washing up the bowl's he'd already used that morning,

"We have ingredients here but if you could get some festive frosting that would be good, here." He threw you the keys to the dorms from his pocket and you thanked him for it, promising to be back as soon as possible. The fact was, it was Christmas eve and not many places were going to be open and if they were you doubted they would have some decorations that would have matched the burnt and melted ones that were now in the trash.

"I got garlands, I got mistletoe for fun, I got banners and streamers and I even got this-" You pulled out the dancing Santa you'd gotten from the market. He was dressed in shorts, sunglasses with a strip of suncream across his nose,

"What does-" As soon as Changbin questioned it, he wished he hadn't, the Santa began singing and dancing to "Santa Claus is Coming to Town," while you sat there dancing along with it and laughing,

"I'm surrounded by children," Changbin grumbled turning off the Santa and placing it on the kitchen counter, he was going to place it on top of the fridge but he knew he couldn't reach up that high so he didn't bother.

"Do you have ladders? I can hang them up while you prep the cookies?" A chair was dragged out from under the dining room table,

"You're joking...Both of us are short Binnie how are we going to reach the ceiling?" You laughed looking at the chair instead of at Changbin, his heart was flipping as you called him 'Binnie' he'd never heard you call him anything other than his name before, his ears were burning at the idea of hearing it again.

"I'll make sure you don't fall, we have push pins. I'll get them." He had to get out of the kitchen to cool off a little bit, he was so caught up in you calling him by his nickname he'd almost forgotten how to breathe for a second.

"Perfect," You smiled taking the small box of pins from him but your hands caught one another and you felt sparks fly from the gentle touch. Butterflies were let loose in your stomach as you looked away from Changbin hoping he hadn't noticed how caught up you had gotten in the small touch.

"Hold the chair steady!" You yelled as you stood up on your tiptoes trying to hang up the less paper star you'd made,

"I am!" He yelled back at you getting more annoyed every time you told him to keep it steady when he already was, he thought this would be a breeze with you but you'd done nothing but squeal every time the chair moved or you dropped a pin onto the floor below you.

"Ah!" You screamed slipping backwards, the chair kicked out from underneath you and within seconds you were sitting bridal style in Changbin's arms as he stared into your eyes,

"I-I told you I got you," He stuttered out his eyes dancing between your lips as your eyes as he stared at you some more,

"You...You did," You breathed out feeling your heart pick up as you noticed where his eyes were going, yours did the same hoping that he would catch the hint and lean in to kiss you but he just gently lowered you down onto the floor and clapped his hands together.

"Cookies!" His voice boomed walking away from you while you picked up the chair, wondering if you'd just imagined him staring at your lips of if he had in fact done it.

"Cookies," You whispered, not as enthusiastically as him as your head was trying to work its way around the position you had just been in with him while his mind was racing about how he wanted to kiss you.

The tube of bright red icing was in Chanbin's hand as he stepped closer to you, you stepped back shaking your head as you tried to look for somewhere to go by you hit the curtain that hit the bins from the view of fans on Vlive.

"You're trapped," His voice was dark as he smirked at you,

"I-I- Mine was an accident! You got in the way!" You screamed trying to shield yourself from his attack but he grabbed onto your holding you in a tight embrace,

"An accident?! You squirted white frosting on my face and told me I look like I got too excited," You began giggling and laughing at the thought of what you'd done only to be met with a smudge of red icing across your face, hitting your teeth and going into your hair. Changbin was proud of his work and stepped away from you, ready to go back to decorating the Santa cookies you'd been doing together but you weren't over this.

Once the last cookie was decorated and placed out of the way you took a tube of blue frosting you'd used for snowflakes and hid it behind your back. Holding out your hand to shake Changbin's,

"We did a good job and we have an hour to spare," Changbin had a giant smile across his face as he felt accomplished for doing everything today, the dorms looked festive for the boys and the cookies were ready for them.

"Thanks, Y/n, I know we're not that close so it means a lot that you came around today," Your heart filled up as he began to thank you for everything, your plan began to feel unneeded as you wanted to tell him you'd enjoyed yourself.

"I-I had a lot of fun with you actually, it was nice spending some time with you alone." He smiled feeling his whole chest warm-up at the thought of it but then he saw the tube of icing behind your back and he knew what you were going to do.

"Me too, you erm...You have a little-" He reached out acting as if he was going to clear something from your face before he squirted the rest of the red icing at you. Hitting your white shirt and in your hair at the process,

"It's on!" You screamed squirting him back, running around the kitchen trying to hit him with the icing while he blocked off as much of it as he could while hitting you with his own.

"Changbin!" You cried out as he rushed up behind you and squirted the icing into your shirt without looking and squeezed you tightly,

"Ugh, it feels like I've been put through an icing machine," You whined out, for a second Changbin felt back for what he'd done but you turned around to face him in his arms and his heart picked up. You hadn't been this close to one another all day since he'd caught you from falling over,

"Hi," He whispered shyly looking at you,

"Hi," You whispered back to him wrapping your arms around the back of his neck as you finally decided to take charge of the situation,

"W-What are you doing?" He questioned nervously as he looked at you,

"I'm going to kiss you...If you'll let me and it won't hurt our friendship because we're not even that close..." He stared at you waiting for you to kiss him,

"Oh! Right! I want you to kiss me," He rushed out as he realised you were waiting to see if he wanted you to kiss him you stood up on your tiptoes as you connected your lips. It was like a wave rushed over your body as you began kissing him softly, his arms automatically wrapping around your waist to drawer your body closer to his own, his tongue ran along your bottom lip but you pulled away.

"Did I do something wrong?" He worried looking at you as you bit down on your lip, you shook your head. He'd done nothing wrong, in fact, the kiss had been nothing but perfect.

"We should clean up the kitchen, the kiss was amazing Binnie," You kissed his lips softly again and moved out of his arms to begin cleaning up the icing from the floor.

The boys smiled as they walked into the dorms to smell fresh baked goods, Chan noticed the new decorations so he knew something must have happened to the olds ones.

"Changbin-" He stopped himself from yelling when he noticed you and Chanbin curled up on the sofa together, both of you covered in different coloured icing and sleeping soundly. Chan held up his hands to tell the boys to be quiet as he pointed at you both,

"Changbin and Y/n? Who would have thought?" He chuckled watching as Changbin wrapped his arm around you protectively in his sleep, snuggling his head into your neck.

"I did, Lix you owe me food for a week." Seungmin laughed looking at Felix who was now glaring at the pair of you asleep, he'd bet that you both secretly hated each other not loved one another.

"We'll leave them to sleep, game night in our room?" Felix questioned looking at Jeongin and Hyunjin to see if they would agree,

"Sounds good," Minho agreed, snapping a few pictures as he walked past you and Changbin, he could use them for blackmail at a later date if he ever needed it.

Happy birthday @taestannie !!! @missmxqn @changbinswifu @oosnapitskat @peachyhan

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five-rivers · 3 years

Text

Stars Aligned Chapter 2

Here’s the thing. Danny knew this was a dumb decision. At least as dumb as stepping into the ghost portal (but at least he’d gotten some nifty powers out of that, hey?). Whatever reason his bio-dad had for chucking him out the door within days of his birth couldn’t be good. Putting himself within reach of the man… Yeah. Not his brightest thought.

(Not to mention the wizards. And witches. That was so weird, how they had two different names for essentially the same thing. Then again… actor, actress… Why were people so weird?)

On the other hand, twin brother. Twin brother who had to live with aforementioned baby-abandoning bio-dad. Twin brother who wasn’t allowed to visit America. Or, Danny suspected, a family of squibs.

Yeah.

So, here he was. Getting everything in order for a wizard passport and wizard international travel, because bio-family refused to even look at an airport.

Danny had a suspicion that, based on how they spelled the word and a few other comments in that particular letter, that they weren’t entirely clear on what an airport was.

Fun.

On the other hand, in comparison to the actual, normal, legal passport he’d gotten, just in case bio-family left him somewhere, wizard passports were much, much easier to get. The wait times were practically nonexistent. He could, in theory, get the passport on the same day he traveled. All that was needed was proof he was a wizard and his adoption papers.

Of course, ‘proof he was a wizard’ actually meant ‘wand.’ Wands being something they used as personal ID, despite the fact that they were a) sticks, and b) didn’t actually carry any personally identifiable information. Sure, Jack said that they were somehow connected to their owners, but unless there were, like, giant books of details about everyone’s wands at every place that would, conceivably, need ID, and had people trained to identify all those tiny little characteristics… Danny just couldn’t see how it would work.

Danny’s current theory was that all wizards were just insane, which meant that his twin would most likely fit right in with the rest of Danny’s family, right as soon as Danny figured out how to legally kidnap him.

(No, Danny didn’t have a ghostly Obsession, and it definitely wasn’t family related. He was only half-ghost, after all. Why do you ask?)

Anyway. Wizard passport. Wizard ID. Wizard sticks.

Wands.

Wands meant a nerve-wracking trip to the nearest wizarding town with Jack. Evidently, he’d lived there a couple of years after his parents sent him away from Britain when he was around fourteen because of ‘the war.’

Abruptly, many of Jack’s stories about his childhood made more sense.

(It had always been something of a joke between Jazz and Danny to try and figure out what ‘the war’ was supposed to be, and if Jack’s parents had just… Conned him into thinking he’d eaten horse meat. For some reason. Even if the Fentons hadn’t seemed like that kind of people, no matter how eccentric.)

(Also, evidently Jazz and Danny had never met Jack’s biological parents, who were not named Fenton, although his adopted mother was also a witch.)

(Why was everything so complicated?)

The “wizarding community” was a small town accessible only by a train line invisible to ‘no-majs.’ And also flying brooms. Which wizards used. Danny had seen the train before, not realizing that he wasn’t supposed to. Several times. Usually while flying to Wisconsin to deal with whatever Vlad had done that week.

If Danny was a wizard, was Vlad? Was being half-ghost somehow tied up in being magical? What did that mean for Dani?

(Hey, maybe this whole affair could be used to bring Dani into the family safely. Who was to say that he didn’t have a secret twin sister?)

Danny could admit that the town itself, which had almost a Ghost Zone vibe with how all the architecture seemed to be from fifty plus to a hundred years ago and also the physics breaking magic, was sort of cool. It was… cute, he guessed. He didn’t really like how everyone was staring at Jack, their clothes were just as weird, but it wasn’t a new thing. People always stared at Jack.

That’s what happened when you wore hazard-orange jumpsuits twenty-four seven.

The shops all had names out of a fantasy novel, and at one point they got turned around and wound up on a residential street where they had to ask for directions, but eventually they made it to ‘Willoughby’s Wand Emporium.’

The interior of Willoughby’s Wand Emporium reminded Danny strongly of a shoe store. The shelves were all lined with boxes of approximately that size, and the employees all carried measuring tape. It also smelled like a shoe store: musty and dry, with a hint of polish. Or maybe it was wood varnish? Or some kind of paint.

A young woman bounced up. “Hi, how can we help you today? Replacement wand?”

“First time, actually,” said Jack.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said the woman. “You’re just so tall for your age.”

“I’m fourteen,” said Danny.

The woman began to turn red.

“He was missed,” said Jack. “It happens.” He smiled, but it looked far more strained than usual.

“Oh,” said the woman. “Ahem. Well, if you’ll come right this way, I can start taking measurements, and start trying out wands. The wand chooses the wizard, they say!”

“Okay,” said Danny, shrugging. That was… interesting. Were the wands sentient? Did that somehow make them acceptable IDs?

Seemed really weird to keep sentient things stored in boxes.

… Said the kid who stored sentient beings in a soup thermos.

A really high-tech soup thermos.

Didn’t make it better.

Except he didn’t keep them in the thermos indefinitely. Except for Dan.

Danny didn’t know if the wizards kept the wands in boxes indefinitely, either. Maybe he should stop assuming things. That had gotten him in trouble with ghosts more than once.

The woman took her measuring tape from where it hung around her shoulders, held it out in front of herself, and promptly dropped it. It did not fall.

As basic as levitation was for ghosts, it was really weird to see a human do it. (Especially when it always took so much concentration for him to levitate things other than himself—Hence why he never really used the ability in battle.)

The measuring tape flitted around Danny’s head, shoulders, arms, and body, taking measurements. He had to sit on his reflexes hard to prevent himself from trying to catch it or knock it out of the air.

He was so nervous. Was it normal to be nervous?

The measuring tape snaked back through the air to the woman, who smiled. “Alright,” she said, “we can start with that. Uh, to explain the process, we usually start out with wands in the appropriate size range and try and zero in on the ones that respond best to you from there.” She flicked her own wand, and several thin boxes slid themselves off the shelves. “We use a wide variety of wand woods from a variety of wandmakers. Just about any tree that grows in North America is probably represented here.” She paused. “Except for palm trees.”

“That makes sense,” said Danny. Palm trees were quite different from other trees.

“Alright. Let’s start with pine. The core of this one is dragon heartstring—Harvested humanely, of course!”

“Core?” said Danny, latching on to the familiar word even as he regarded the wand itself dubiously.

“Yes. As with our woods, we also stock a wide range of wand cores. Each wand has a core made of a small part of a magical creature. Dragon heartstring, unicorn hair, and phoenix feather are the standard ones… But that standardization is rather British. We have a few others available. Thunderbird tail feather—Only taken during molt. Wampus cat hair. Dittany. Rougarou hair. Jackalope antler… Those are the more common ones, though we do have others. Even some kneazle whisker, although most people don’t want those.”

“Why not?”

“Ah, they tend not to be very strong. But sheer power isn’t everything. Some prefer control, need lower power output… or are worried about accidents while they’re learning. We do see some adult learners every now and then.”

That actually sounded sort of appealing to Danny, but he supposed he’d better go about this normally. At least at first.

He picked up the pine wand and immediately dropped it.

“Ow,” he said.

“Ow?” repeated the woman. “Oh,” she said, catching sight of the burn on his hand. “That’s… not supposed to happen.”

“Y’know,” said Danny, conversationally, “I’ve only held, like, two magical things in my life, and both of them have damaged my hands. Is this, like, a common thing, or am I just ridiculously unlucky.”

“Second one, I think,” said the woman. “Cynthia’s good at minor healing charms. I’m going to go get her. Okay? Okay.”

Shortly thereafter, phoenix feather wands were also eliminated as a possibility, not because they burned Danny, but because they seemed intent on burning everything else around him. Pine wands were also a definite no-go (“Don’t worry about the lifespan thing,” said the woman, “that’s a myth.”). As was everything but elder, apple, pear, hornbeam, thorn, and yew (this list got another mention of myths from the shop assistant).

At this point, the shop owner, Mrs. Willoughby, was drawn out from the back room to observe the mess Danny was making.

“My,” she said, “I haven’t seen anyone have this much trouble in a while. Heather, why don’t you go get some of the specialty cores.”

“I thought the unicorn was working well,” protested the woman who’d been helping Danny so far. She winced as Danny picked up a new wand and exploded a light. “Comparatively.”

“Yes, we could probably eventually find a unicorn hair wand that would work for him, but all things considered… I feel like we should explore other avenues.” She sniffed. “Nothing associated with fire. Perhaps kelpie mane?”

“I’ll check,” said Heather.

Kelpie mane, it turned out, did the same sort of thing as phoenix tail feather when it came to Danny. Only with a lot more water involved.

“I didn’t think that would work, anyway,” said Mrs. Willoughby.

“Then why,” said Danny, wringing water out of his shirt, “did you have me try it?”

“Oh, cases like you greatly improve our understanding of wandlore,” said Mrs. Willoughby. “You’re not likely to have noticed this yet, but the population of wizards and witches is so small compared to the no-maj population that everyone who gets very far in a profession has to be a bit of an innovator. I’m recording this for future reference, and I’ll be looking forward to seeing what you do in life. If anything. It would be very helpful to me if you became famous.”

“Hard pass on that,” said Danny.

“Or at least come back at some point.”

“I’ll consider it,” said Danny. “But, like, we were really hoping to do other things today, so maybe…” He made a circular motion with his hand. “Or at least, ugh, I don’t know. I feel like everything you give me is trying to kill me.”

It was a very familiar feeling, and a very unwelcome one, nonetheless.

“We really aren’t,” said Mrs. Willoughby. “But perhaps… from now on, we’ll limit to the woods to the Rosaceaes. The others tend to be called unlucky. Well, except for the hornbeam. Is there anything you’re singularly passionate about?”

Singularly passionate? “Not really,” said Danny, who did not think about ghosts or helping people or space. He shifted, uncomfortable, and squelched.

Screw it. He was supposedly a wizard, now, right?

He phased the water off himself.

“Oh my god!” shouted Heather. “Did you do that on purpose?”

“Uh,” said Danny. “No?”

“Calm down, Heather. Don’t act like you’ve never seen accidental magic before.”

“Not with a teenager doing it!”

They were now attracting a crowd. Yay.

“He’s not trained, yet,” said Mrs. Willoughby, unconcerned. “Don’t be rude.”

“Yeah, can we get back on track, here?”

After a few more tries, Mrs. Willoughby had determined that the wood that reacted the least badly to Danny was hawthorn. Then she sent Heather into the storage room to fetch more.

“I don’t know why we even have these,” said Heather, under her breath, carrying several boxes marked with stamps that read ‘THESTRAL.’

“Because some people have trauma, Heather.”

“He’s a teenager. I seriously doubt he has deep personal experiences with death.”

“Wow, way to assume, Heather,” said another shop assistant, who was passing by with a far-too-curious customer.

“Here,” said Mrs. Willoughby, handing Danny a box. “Try this one. It’s hawthorn.”

With some suspicion, Danny slid the cover off the box and gingerly picked up the wand inside.

It didn’t do anything like what the other wands had. Instead, the slender length of wood gave him a faint echo of the feeling he got when he was on an emotional high and engaging in either extreme mischief or obsession-adjacent activities (because he did not have a real, ghostly, capital-O Obsession).

Danny declined to hold it with all five fingers, lest he be overcome with mania.

Yes, he was paranoid. But when touching things can go as badly for you as they did for Danny, paranoia was justified.

“Oh, it looks like you’ve found your match,” said Mrs. Willoughby, clapping.

With the ease of practice, Danny did not let any trace of horror or unease show on his face. He ignored the surge of glee from the wand, and carefully placed it back in the box.

Yeah. He needed a wand for passport purposes, but there was no way he was going to use that. He’d just fake magic with ghost powers. It had been working out okay so far.

What was the worst that could happen?

A rather relieved Jack paid for the wand, and they made their way, slowly, to the government building.

“So,” said Jack. “You want to save getting those beginner magic manuals for another day?”

“Absolutely,” said Danny. He wondered if his twin had gone through anything even remotely like this and if it was really worth all this trouble to meet a person he would have basically nothing in common with other than blood.

Blood that likely meant less than usual, considering that his was diluted with ectoplasm. A fact he would have to hide. With no allies or back up. In England.

(Again, this whole endeavor was not his greatest idea.)

Draco supervised the house-elves as they cleaned out the room next to his own, feeling rather blank. He had campaigned vigorously for his twin to come, but now that he was…

The boy, for all that he was as much a Malfoy as Draco, was an American for all intents and purposes. What did Americans even like? What did they call their bastardized version of Quidditch? Would Deneb even know about wizard games? According to the woman from the agency, he’d been raised as a muggle by those squibs he’d been placed with.

Slowly but surely, Draco’s heart sank. He had no idea what his twin would be like. Deneb, despite being his brother, would essentially be a stranger.

He was beginning to understand why his mother was so angry at his father.

#danny phantom #dp/hp crossover #dp/hp twin au #stars aligned

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pitaparka · 4 years

Text

between the devil and the deep blue sea

summary: you wake up to find your brother missing. you’re then met by two handsome boys in your motel room, who just so happen to have his key. they offer to help you find him.

pairings: jj maybank x reader / john b x reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: a missing brother, teenage boys, and a whole lot of eventual unresolved sexual tension

a/n: outer banks. that is all. happy quarantine yall. big love.

It was jarring to wake up in the motel all by yourself. You hadn’t even heard him leave.

It took you too long to notice. The room was plunged in darkness, and you took your time waking up, getting out of bed, brushing your teeth. You had only turned on the light when you had decided to get dressed. Which is when you saw the empty bed next to you. It was hastily made, but even the fact that it was made threw you off. He had never been one to make his bed, even back home. Especially not when he first woke up. Did he plan on not coming back? His suitcase was zipped up on one of the chairs at a small desk off to the side. It made your stomach drop to think about. In your PJs, you checked the bathroom, the closet (for good measure), and under the bed (just in case).

You called his name, but there was no answer. You had woken up multiple times through the night, afraid of the windows exploding, or the door caving in. There were no sand bags or boards for your room. But each time, you were lulled back asleep during a calm in the storm. The noise plus the springy mattress had not allowed for a restful sleep, and you were out of bed as soon as it was reasonable.

Your bare foot hit the damp pavement stepping out of your motel room. Petrichor filled your nostrils. It was a refreshing change from the musty dank mess you had spent the night in, but it wasn’t much more comforting. You were still alone, and you had no clue why. There were men and women all over the motel balcony, working on moving large branches and surveying the damage. You were suddenly grateful you weren’t in one of the rooms on the end, that had large cracks in the concrete. You looked both ways from your room, but you hadn’t recognized anyone. Power tools drowned out the sound of children playing in front of the motel front down below you. There were mattresses put up against the railing. You were expected to check out today, and you had agreed on leaving early, but you didn’t want to leave without your brother. The only option was to wait for him. You returned to the room.

You figured a shower was in order. So you didn’t hear the knock until you came out, towel around your shoulders, fully dressed this time. Thank God. Because you heard the key turn in the lock and light filled the room and all the doubt plunged from your chest because your brother was back—

But he wasn’t. You stared from the bathroom. Two boys. Neither of them your brother.

“Huh,” one says, and you really take a good look at the two of them. Just in case you have to describe them to the police.

Tall. Wavy brown hair. Hat backwards. Bandanna around his neck. The other one blonde. Short hair. Tank top. Really nice arms, but considering they’re breaking into your motel, you look past it.

“Check the bag, see if there’s a name on there somewhere.”

A name. Why do they want your name? If they’re going to steal things, they might as well just take it. They’re both teenage boys. About your age. Tall. Probably taller than you, but you can’t tell. The blonde one shoves the key deep into his cargo shorts. They go to close the door behind them.

It takes them a second to notice you. You must look like a deer in headlights.

“How did you get in here?” You ask. You saw the key. Where did they get the key? Only you and your brother have keys, how did they—

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry, we didn’t know anyone—” One of them starts.

“Fuck,” the other one says.

“We found this key, we just wanted to—” One goes to explain, but you’re more scared than they are.

“What are you doing here?” You ask

“We just wanted to see where this came from,” says blondie, holding up the motel key. “We wanted to just—”

“Yeah, we’re sorry, we’ll be leaving now,” The brunette goes to leave, and the blonde goes to follow. The one with the key in his hand doesn’t let go of it. You need to know where they got that key from.

“No! Wait,” you say, and they stop in their tracks.

“Where did you find that key?” You ask. They look between each other.

“On a boat,” One of them replies. The other stares at him.

“What boat?” you ask. You can feel your heart thumping in your wrist. You leave the doorway and sit on your brother’s bed. The door to the motel room is slightly ajar. They, theoretically, could run and never come back. But they haven’t left yet.

“We… we found it. At the bottom of a marsh.” Brunette says. You let out a shaky breath. What the fuck does that mean? Whose boat did he have? How did he learn to drive a boat? Why would he get on a boat, in the middle of a fucking storm?

Your phone rings on the table next to them. You rush over to it, and the boys move back a little bit. There’s no caller ID. You answer.

“Hello?” you stare at the boys. They stare back at you. They look invested now.

“Hi! Are you busy?” The person asks. It sounds like a man, but not your brother.

“Who is this? How did you get this number?” you say. Today, nobody feels like giving you their names.

“Is your brother there?”

“No, he’s not here… who is this?”

“Ah, okay, sorry! Have a nice—”

“Who is this?” you demand, but the line goes dead.

“Fucking great,” you mutter, and the boys are still there.

“Uhh,” one of them starts, “We’re just gonna go.”

You’d had enough. You were fed up with the cryptic messages of today. Your brother disappearing out of nowhere, these boys, the phone call.

“Can you… Do you know where the boat is, still?” you ask. You run your hands over your face, exasperated. This day was shaping up to be one of the worst of your life.

They’re both silent for a beat, before Blondie speaks up.

“Yeah. We could, I mean, we could show you where it is. Why?”

Brunette glares at him.

“I can’t find my brother. He left this morning… that’s his motel key. He doesn’t have a boat. I just… I don’t know what’s going on today.” you explain. Brunette gives you a sympathetic look.

“He might be at the store or something,” he suggests, but Blondie has other ideas.

“I’m JJ,” he introduces. He fishes the key out of his pocket and holds it out to you. You decline it.

“No, you can hold on to it. I only need one,” you say, and you lean over to open the drawer next to your bed. Your key isn’t in there. But your brother’s phone is. And a motel sticky note with a number on it

“Oh shit,” you say, and Blondie—JJ, leans over to look in the drawer. He takes out the paper.

“Guess you could use this key then, huh?” he says with a smile. You return it sadly, and take the key from his hands. He looks over the paper.

“Thanks,” you mutter.

“What’s this for?” he asks inquisitively.

You take it from his hands. It’s six random numbers. It means nothing to you.

“I don’t know,” you say, handing it back. He hands it over to the other boy. You get up, and move over to the side of the room where your shoes are. Where your brother’s shoes aren’t.

You give Brunette a once over after you put your shoes on.

“Who are you?” you ask, and he introduces himself as John.

“But he’s really John B.,” JJ clarifies.

“Is there more than one John?” you ask.

“Probably. It’s a popular name,” John B. says, leading the two of you out of your motel room. You’d have to leave before tonight. You have nowhere else to go, so maybe because of the hurricane they’d let you stay. Checking out the boat wouldn't take too long, right?

“You guys aren’t… serial killers, right?” you question after you lock the door behind you. This is a terrible idea, going with these boys you don’t know at all. But there have been worse ideas. Like your brother leaving early in the morning to steal a boat and sink it in the ocean. You know he can swim, but you can vividly remember him tiring easily at the lake you’d spend the summer at with your family together. Your heart breaks a little bit at the memory.

“Oh come on, could a serial killer look this good?” JJ says, flaunting his body. He playfully runs his hands over his chest and face, and John B. laughs at him.

“Come on, dude, you’re freaking her out,” he says, and looks back at you while you guys walk down the stairs.

“No, we’re not serial killers. At least not today,” he smirks. You figured you were gonna regret this, but it was too late to turn back now. Besides, what would you do in the motel room until your brother got back. What if he did come back, and you weren’t there?

Your heart races.

“Wait,” and the sound of their feet on the gravel stops.

“What if he comes back? And I’m not there? I should at least leave a note or something, right?” you worry.

“I mean,” JJ starts, “If I were you, wait—have you texted him?” he says.

“Yeah, it was one of the first things I did. But he didn’t take his phone with him.” you say, picturing his phone sitting in the drawer, halfway charged, your missed calls and texts the only notifications. You didn’t know his password either, so it’s not like you could snoop.

“Well, then I think the boat will be your best bet. I could dive down there and see if there’s anything else in it,” John B. suggests. JJ nods in agreement. It’s nice how they decided to assist you, but you can’t help but feel like there’s an ulterior motive underneath it all.

“Why… I mean, thank you, but—why are you helping me?” you say as you walk with the boys. They’re easy to talk to, and you feel like you guys could be friends very quickly.

“We got nothin’ better to do,” John B. says with a smile, and you think how nice it would be to be a part of something.

“Oh shit, it’s the cops,” JJ says, and you and John B. look up immediately.

“What are they doin’ here…” John inquires.

“Do you guys know them?” you ask, and JJ gives you a look.

“Know them? We’re practically besties.”

The way he says it doesn’t make you feel better.

“Let’s go, before they see us.” John B. says, and you follow them to a little boat moored on the shore.

“This is what we found in the room,” JJ says as he gets closer. There’s two other people there.

“A girl?” the boy says. The girl just smiles at you.

“Hi,” you say, and introduce yourself to them.

“I’m Kie, that’s Pope,” Kie says, gesturing to Pope. They look nice enough. It’s a nice little crew they have, and you find yourself wishing you could have something like this. Maybe, just maybe, if things worked out, you and your brother could make a life here. Do something here. Be someone here. But first, you’d have to find him.

“We walked in and she was in the room,” John B. says.

“We thought someone called the cops on you. Look,” Pope says, gesturing to where they had pulled up. They were talking among themselves near their patrol car.

“Yeah, we know,” JJ says. He holds your hand as he helps you onto the boat. His hands are firm and cold, but you realize you like holding them. He smiles at you, then John B. puts his foot on the side of it.

“Uh, where’s my hand JJ?” John B. asks, and JJ responds with a shove, almost pushing John into the murky marsh water as he loses his footing, half on the boat, half on the shore. John B. gives him a hard shove back, and JJ loses his balance, catching himself with one hand, that comes back wet and muddy. You look on in amusement, but Pope tugs on your shirt, moving you back a little.

“You might wanna move back,” he says, and John B. jumps onto the boat, JJ in tow. They run around the center console for a second, JJ chasing John B. with a muddy hand, and Kie pats the spot next to her. The boat was small, so you took the opportunity to sit down.

“What’s your story?” she says.

“Hmm?” you hum, tearing your eyes away from JJ slathering the back of John B.’s shirt with half dry mud, flaking onto the boat and sticking to his shirt. Pope narrowly avoids the splash zone, gripping the edge of the boat.

“I can’t find my brother. The key you guys found? That was his. And he doesn’t have a boat, so I don’t really know what happend. I wanted to go check out where it was, y’know?”

You felt better around Pope and Kie. They were the more level headed of the four, you concluded. Which is probably why they were on the boat and not breaking into your motel room. You unheedingly ran a hand over the key in your pocket, fiddling with the hem of your shorts. You wish you had brought sandals you noted, as some of the water on the boat saturated the canvas of your shoes, right above where the rubber sole ended.

“That sucks. I’m sorry,” Kie apologizes, before JJ hops off the boat again. At the front, he undoes whatever knot he used to tie the boat to whatever waterlogged tree he could find there. With a strong push, he dislodges the boat from the shore, and just makes it back onto the boat before John B. turns on the engine.

“All aboard that’s coming aboard?” John B. cries out.

“Aye aye Captain,” says JJ, moving to the front of the boat.

John eases the boat out of the motel area, and back into the marsh.

“You ever been on a boat before?” JJ asks, taking a seat at your feet. You politely decline the beer he offers you. He shrugs and places it back into the cooler on Kie’s side.

“Uh, not one like this. I’ve been on a boat before though,” you say.

“What, you been on boats nicer than this one?” Questions John B. from the helm.

“Not possible. This is the nicest boat there is.” Pope replies sarcastically.

“Yeah, I don’t know what’s my favorite part, the broken fishing rod holder or the helicopter engine on the back of this thing.” JJ says. You chuckle softly at his joke, but you find it endearing how John B. defends her.

“Aw, don’t listen to them, Old Girl.” he says to the boat.

“You’re still my favorite,” John B. whispers to her, giving the wheel a little kiss.

Everyone laughs at him, and he grins, sitting a little taller in his seat.

“Are you from around here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.” Pope says, beer in hand. They can’t be of age, but it’s an island, so who cares.

“No, I’m not. My brother and I were just passing through, but the storm hit. We were supposed to leave two days ago, but there were no ferries coming in or out.”

“On your way somewhere?” Kie asks.

“Nowhere specific,” you say, and JJ laughs.

“Mysterious, I like it,” he gets up from his spot at your feet and stretches upward. The tank he’s wearing already shows off a lot of skin, especially his sides, but when he stretches, he exposes his stomach a little bit. He’s got an athletic build. I guess that’s what happens when you live on an island.

“What about you guys?” you ask, suddenly a little claustrophobic with all the attention.

“Have you guys always lived here?”

“Yeah. We all grew up here. Been here since we were born.” Pope says.

“Hopefully not for much longer,” clarifies Kie.

You quirk a brow at her. She continues.

“There’s nothing left for us here. Nobody cares about us. If we can get out, we can probably do something with our lives.”

“Yeah. If I want to do anything worth doing, I won’t be working under my dad when I do it.” Pope adds. Everyone else seems to agree.

Everyone except John B.

“I think that’s it,” he says, slowing the boat down considerably and looking over the console to get a look at it.

You and everyone else crowd the side of the boat. You don’t like how it leans forward a little, with the weight of everyone on the bow of it. In the cloudy water, there sits a big hunk of something. If he hadn’t had pointed it out, you probably would’ve paid no mind to it. It reminds you a little bit of how the Titanic sank.

John B. all of a sudden has his shirt off and his sandals, hat discarded somewhere off to the side with his bandanna in it. He jumps headfirst off the side of the boat, toward the object in the water.

“I hate it when he does that,” Kie voices, “He’s gonna crack his head open one of these days,”

“Let him,” JJ says, watching the water intently with the rest of you.

The seconds pass by slowly, and you begin to worry about John B.

“Should we go get him?” Pope asks, but John B. answers by popping up out of the water, sputtering and coughing, wiping his face with his hands.

“Anything?” you ask hopefully.

John B. stares at you.

“Well, it’s still a boat.”

“Great, John, that’s totally gonna reassure her.” JJ criticizes.

“I couldn’t stay under long enough to see what was down there,” John B. says, making his way over to the side of the boat.

“So? What now?” you ask. All hope is lost. You can only hope that your brother is waiting for you back at the motel.

John B. shakes his hair dry like a dog, and then slicks it all back. You can see he’s prepared to let the sun dry him off. He looks at you whimsically.

“Actually, I know where we could get some scuba gear.”

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bosspigeon · 3 years

Text

one for sorrow

Pairing: Gen, M!Detective/Mason Word Count: 3483 Summary: Juniper Fenn reflects on memories, nursery rhymes, loneliness, and wanting to be wanted.

Just a little (uh... kinda big, actually?) character study for my soft boy, Juni! It wound up a lot more emotional than I originally intended, but I like having this insight into his character.

CW for (implied) deadnaming, misgendering, coming out, and in the last portion a non-graphic post-sex scene with some allusions to said sex ahfdsjh.

One for sorrow, two for joy.

He thought the needle would hurt more than it did. He closes his eyes and looks away, and the artist gives him the hairy eyeball when he clutches at Tina’s knee, like she’s afraid he’ll jump off the bench and bolt for the door. He wants to ask if that’s happened before, but he thinks he’s made enough of a fool of himself so far.

“You sure you’re good?” she asks, giving him an out. Somehow, that just strengthens his resolve.

He takes a slow breath and nods, closing his eyes.

He hears the buzzing, and when the machine first touches skin, he almost jumps, but he’s more worried about looking like more of a baby than he already does than he is startled, so he bites his lips and forces himself to holds still. And it does hurt, but not like he thought it would. He squints one eye open to watch the progress of the first line over his skin. He expects to be repulsed, like when he’s having bloodwork done, and he has to look away from the needle going into his arm. But this is different, somehow. Doesn’t make his stomach turn.

“This is the quietest I’ve ever seen you,” Tina teases, when the first wing has taken shape. He almost jumps again, but he manages to contain it to a twitch. He’s going to tip the artist as much as he’s able after this is done, just for dealing with someone as fidgety as him.

He chews at his lip. “It’s… I dunno. I wouldn’t say it feels good, but it’s kind of soothing, in a weird way?”

She leans over, watching, and the artist gives her a bit of a look, so she backs up again. “Have you told your mum?” she asks.

He snorts out a laugh and looks away, back at the stencil on his arm that will soon be filled in with black feathers and ringed with flowers. “Of course not. She’d probably kill me.”

“She doesn’t like tattoos?” Tina tilts her head, watching his face like she’s waiting for him to start whining about how it hurts. She’s always been the tougher of the two of them, and he’s got no illusions about that, so he’s sort of proud of himself for keeping his cool—as much as he’s got anyway.

He shrugs the arm that’s not under the machine, and wonders when he’ll get his next tattoo. He’s already got ideas for more, and knowing that it’s not so bad as he was worried it would be is exciting. Not to mention, it’s something that’s just for him. Not for anyone else. He’s… never really done anything like this before. “I don’t know what she likes, but I doubt she’d approve.”

She sucks her teeth and he squeezes her knee again when she gives him that soft, sad look she sometimes does when his mum comes up in conversation. “What’s it going to be?” she asks suddenly. Tina’s a good friend, changing the subject before he can get moody about it.

“A magpie,” he says softly, looking back down to watch the lone bird slowly taking shape on his skin.

Three for a girl, four for a boy.

He asks what happened to all the pretty paintings around the house when he’s ten, because they disappear sometime after one of Mum’s visits, when she seemed more distant than usual. Maybe she hopes he won’t notice, but he misses them immediately. The house is too bare without them, it feels so lonely. It’s always been lonely, ever since Dad passed, but the bare walls make it even lonelier. Mum brushes it off, of course. He’s used to it at this point, so he doesn’t push her, but he’s also stubborn, so he goes looking. He’s even more determined when she tries to shut him up by replacing them all with clean, impersonal prints in neat little frames. He finds them in the attic, tucked away in a box, each one slipped carefully into a protective sleeve or folder and wrapped in tissue paper. He finds a dreamy matted watercolor of him as a baby, fat and freckly and smiling with no teeth, and he has to take a minute to sit down and cry as quietly as possible before he can start going through the rest. There’s a folder of scrawled pencil portraits, too. He finds one of Mum sitting on a pier, peeking back over her shoulder with her hair blowing in the wind. She’s smiling. He can’t remember the last time he saw her smile.

There’s a self portrait that makes him laugh through his tears, because the reflective surface Dad seems to have used as his mirror is a Christmas ornament, so his face is distorted, one eye huge, his tongue out, drawing himself drawing. He keeps that one for sure, and a few of the other ones he thinks he can get away with. An oil pastel of a wooden swing dripping with honeysuckle, a colored pencil drawing of the library, a few studies of people and plants and animals, and another watercolor of the three magpies, sitting in a juniper tree.

There are three magpies painted on his bedroom wall, from back when it was his nursery. Dad painted them right after he was born, before they brought him home from the hospital. They’d waited until he arrived to know what his gender would be. Of course, he went and messed that up, like he did most things. Sometimes he wonders if Dad would be disappointed, or if he’d think it was funny.

They used to be above his crib, and then his bed when he outgrew that, but he moves his bed to the opposite side of his room when he’s fourteen, and covers them with a poster. He thinks for sure Mum’s going to give him an earful about it, but he’s surprised she hasn’t tried to cover them up herself. He supposes it’s not really an issue, since when she is home, it’s not like she spends any time in his bedroom.

And then he's sixteen, and he’s been practicing his watercolor for years at this point. Sometimes, he creeps into the attic when he’s got the house to himself, rifles through Dad’s paintings, studies his style for as long as he can. He’s been old enough not to need a proper nanny for years now, though someone comes to check up on him frequently and make sure he’s got food and necessities, but beyond that he’s got plenty of time alone. He sits in the attic until he's sore from the wooden floor, trying to think of how Dad’s hands might have looked while he worked, the speed and angle of his brush strokes. He doesn’t think he can find anything new at this point, as many times as he’s snuck up here to look at Dad’s work, but out of the blue, he finds what might have been a really nice landscape, if it weren’t marred by fat little handprints in bright yellow and green, as if he’d smeared his hands across the palette the second Da took his eyes off it, and slapped them down in the middle of the paper. He comes back to it a lot, when he spends time in the attic, because when he looks at it, he swears he can hear what he imagines Dad’s laugh sounded like, his voice calling him a little menace with all the fondness in the world.

And then he’s eighteen, and he’s alone on his birthday. Mum calls, tells him she loves him and she would come and visit him later on, so they could do something together, but she couldn’t take the day off. She tells him how proud she is of her daughter being all grown up, and he winces, but keeps his mouth shut.

And then he maybe gets a little bit drunk, drags out his paints and brushes, rifles through the portfolio hidden carefully in the back of his closet, and finds the painting with the juniper tree and the three magpies

He takes another shot to steady his nerves, and paints in a fourth.

Five for silver, six for gold.

He shouldn’t be surprised Mum doesn't come to his graduation, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. She’s busy, she’s always been busy, she’s been busy since he was a toddler.

He was stupid to believe anything he did would be important enough for her to bother with. To believe that he could matter to anyone enough.

Tina’s stepmum had more foresight than he did, inviting him along to her and Tina’s celebration dinner at a fancy restaurant out of town, and he has to take a minute to cry in the bathroom after they proudly present him with a messily wrapped gift and a card that practically explodes with glitter when he open it, but he can’t even pretend to be annoyed because it has his name in it, and while he's trying very hard not to break down crying in public, Tina hugs him so tightly his spine creaks and tells him she couldn’t have wished for a better brother.

When they drop him off at home, his eyes are still red and a bit wet, he’s full of good food and affection, and he’s smiling like an idiot in spite of the fact that he can’t stop sniffling. The heavy sterling silver magpie skull charm rests against his collarbone, the weight comforting in a way he can’t hope to put into words. He'll never forget Tina’s dewy, smiling eyes as she clasped it around his neck and told him proudly, “Now you’ve got two.'"

He falls into bed holding the charm, reluctant to take it off, but knowing he should put it somewhere safe before bed. He exhales a happy sigh, laughing a bit wetly to himself.

And then his phone vibrates in the pocket of his slacks, and his heart seizes in his chest.

He doesn’t have to check the ID to know who it is. Nobody ever calls him, and his eyes flicker anxiously to the pressed dress in its plastic garment bag still hanging untouched on the back of his closet door. He’d given Tina the expensive name-brand heels for her own graduation outfit, because even if he did want them, he couldn’t walk in the damn things anyway. Lucky for him, they wear the same size shoe.

He takes a moment to calm his breathing, but that means he has to fumble to answer the call before it ends, and he winces when he sees two more missed calls in his log. “Mum!” he blurts, his voice instinctively pitching higher. “Hi! How are you?”

“I’m fine,” she tells him easily. “I’m sorry again I couldn’t make it today. There was a—”

“A big project, I know,” he finishes. It’s always a project, or a trip, or a meeting. The details are always scant, but Mum knows how to make it sound big and important and in need of her attention. He’s tried not to be bitter about it, but there’s always been a part of him that wishes, for once, she’d decide he was important enough to need her attention. “It’s okay, Mum.” It’s not, it never was, but it would be selfish of him to tell her that. She’s got enough to worry about.

“Well, I didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten, so I had a gift delivered. It should have arrived today.”

He bites back a sigh. He wonders if it would be easier if she had just forgotten. If it would hurt less than knowing she always made the decision not to see him. “Oh, I’ll go check!” he blurts, trying to inject as much enthusiasm into his voice as possible. He rolls out of bed and heads for the door, poking out to check the mailbox. Of course, inside there is a slim, rectangular package, wrapped in tidy brown paper. The address and names are printed on stickers.

He takes it inside with the phone tucked against his shoulder, weighing the box in his hands. It’s light, and he wants to be excited about whatever it is, but he’s suddenly drained from the day, from crying and laughing and crying some more.

The dining room, somehow, has always felt more lonely than anywhere else in the house, and he’s never been able to figure out why, but he puts the package on the table and starts picking at the neat wrapping. Mum is quiet on the other end of the phone, waiting, and Juni wants to break the odd silence, but can’t even begin to think of what to say. He wishes he didn’t bite his nails, because it takes him way too long to break into the pristine paper, and inside is a long red jewelry box. When he lifts the lid, there is a delicate gold necklace resting on a soft velvet pad, understated and objectively lovely, if not really his style, but it’s the note that flutters out of the box that catches his attention. His eyes skim the note, expecting her usual platitudes that he sometimes wonders if she has someone else type for her.

I am so proud of the woman you’ve become.

His breath leaves him in a painful, strangled rush, his lungs squeezing tight in his chest. And before Mum can speak, he blurts "I can't take this," trailed by a ragged sob.

“Of course you can,” she says gently, kindly. “I know how you get about expensive gifts, but really, it’s no trouble—”

His head fills with screaming static when she calls him what she’s always called him, what she doesn’t know better than to call him, because he’s never told her. He’s never had the chance, it’s never been the right time, it felt wrong not to do it in person, but whenever he sees her in person he feels like he shouldn’t waste the time with her by bringing up something so…

“My name is Juniper!” It explodes out of him, louder than he’s ever been with her, and it stuns her into silence. “I’m not your daughter!” he cries desperately, “I’m your son. You can’t be proud of the woman I’ve become, because I’m not a woman!” He sounds insane, he knows he does, shrill and frantic, but his heart is hammering so hard he feels dizzy, the walls are yawning wide around him, the dining room feels huge and so empty and so bleak. He’s never felt more alone in this dark, quiet house he’s spent his entire life rattling around in than he does in this exact moment, and it’s suffocating. His phone drops from shaking fingers onto the floor, and he drops with it, curling into a ball and struggling to remember how to breathe, dizzily hoping he won’t need to go scrambling for his inhaler. His fingers clench so tightly around the heavy silver charm he’s almost worried he’s going to snap the simple leather cord, but he needs to ground himself or he feels like he’ll dissolve entirely.

He hears Mum calling the name that’s not his, and when he finally manages to fumble his phone with nerveless fingers, he winces seeing the screen is cracked. “I’m sorry,” he sobs weakly, his eyes burning with tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He can’t even be sure what he’s apologizing for, but he knows he has to, especially when he slams the end call button and buries his face in his knees so he can cry alone in the dark.

Seven for a secret, never to be told.

Juni’s skin is starting to get clammy, but he’s too comfortable to move. Eventually, he’s going to have to, if for nothing else than to get up and get cleaned up, but for now, he’s happy, if a little chilly. He nuzzles into the soft curls dusted across Mason’s chest, and lets his eyelids fall to half-mast, just open enough to absently count the freckles hidden under the chest hair, inevitably lose count, and start counting again. Mason smells good, cooling sweat and sandalwood, and dozy as he is, it takes a moment for Juni to realize he doesn’t really smell like smoke at all anymore. His room doesn’t smell lke smoke, either, he realizes. His heart thuds hard behind his ribs.

He gets distracted when a shiver rolls over him, the chill suddenly overwhelming against his sticky skin, and he curls further into Mason’s chest in an attempt to leach some of his warmth.

Mason clicks his tongue, and Juni’s whole body stiffens, worry zinging into his gut to rattle around there like a bird in a too-small cage. Mason shifts underneath him, and he starts to roll away, to apologize, to get out of his hair, before a strong hand clasps the back of his neck.

“Hold still,” Mason grunts, sitting up and patting around for the edge of the blanket. He pulls it out from under them both, which almost sends the detective rolling off the bed against his will this time, but Mason's hand shifts down to spread across his lower back and hold him steady until he can get them both tucked underneath.

He flops back against the pillows again, one arm tucked under his head and the other loose at his side, and slowly, cautiously, Juni crawls his way under it. The hand lands on his hip and squeezes, and Juni settles his head back on the vampire’s chest just in time to hear the pleased little rumble there. He flushes down to his chest and bites his lip, distracting himself by petting at Mason’s chest hair.

And then he pokes his flat, brown nipple and says, “Boop!” on some stupid impulse, and giggles like an idiot.

Mason scoffs and rolls his eyes, but shifts so that Juni’s thigh hitches up over his. “Keep that up, sweetheart, and we’ll be going into round two sooner rather than later.” Juni can feel the truth in that statement against his thigh, and he blushes so hotly he knows Mason can feel it at every point their bodies are touching. He might be approaching supernova levels of heat when Mason smugly adds, “Well, round two for me. Three for you.”

He hides his face in Mason’s chest with a long groan. “I’m going to explode,” he declares. “I’m going to collapse like a dying star.”

Mason laughs, sharp and startled and shockingly bright, and Juni’s head shoots up so he can see his face. His hair is a mess, but of course it still looks amazing, hanging around his face in loose, sweat-damp spirals. His vulpine grey eyes are crinkling at the corners, even his sharp nose wrinkling in a way that makes Juni’s heart almost stop. And his mouth, usually either pinned into a scowl, or twisted into a sly (and stupidly attractive) smirk, is curled into a smile, breathtaking in its open softness.

God, I love you, Juni wants to cry, his heart pounding in counterpoint to the desperate, silent declaration he traps behind his teeth by digging them into his lower lip so hard he’s almost afraid he’s going to make himself bleed. And it doesn’t stop. I love you, I love you, I love you drums in his chest, hums through his blood, and when Mason catches him looking, he reaches out to push the tangled forelock of curls hanging in Juni’s eyes out of his face, cupping his cheek to pull him into a kiss. Juni shivers and braces his hand on Mason’s chest, feeling the vampire’s heart thumping there, steady and stable and achingly familiar. His own matches it beat for beat, and thankfully his mouth is too occupied for the pulsing plea of love me, love me, please love me to spill out. So he dives into it, clings to it, and when Mason breaks away to let him breathe, Juni buries his mouth against the arch of his throat instead, presses messy kisses to his collarbones, his chest, his shoulders, throttles the words before they can escape him and pushes them into touches instead. Touches can’t damn him the way words can.

There’s a soft, shameful part of him he ignores like he always has that whispers to him that maybe, just maybe, if he pours enough of himself into every kiss, every touch, that the words will finally be understood. That the weak little part of him he buries deeper and deeper every time it cries out will finally be seen, and answered, and cradled tenderly in someone’s strong, freckled hands.

But until then, it will sit there in his chest under lock and key and ache, like all his secrets do.

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