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slasherrabbitmadness · 3 years ago

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Victorian DILF Brahms x Female Reader

Series: Don't forget who you belong to.

Chapter 2 - Give me your answer, do

Underthecut - NSFW, Male Masturbation, Oral - Male Receiving.

Brahms sat idly in his living room, leaning back in his large leather recliner. Feet shuffling along the Egyptian carpet, thumbs twiddling as he hums Daisy Bell by Harry Dacre,

"I'm half crazy, all for the love of you." He smiles as he thinks of her. How her hair shines in the sun, like a halo above her head. Her eyes sparkling whenever she laughs, how the corner of her eyes crinkles ever so slightly. How her smile makes his heart skip a beat.

Brahms sucks in a breath, his hum-singing continues, "There are bright lights the dazzling eyes of beautiful Daisy Bell." He sits up straight, eyes on the unlit fireplace, the gold gate held an ornate Chinese dog welded on the front. He looks above the fireplace to the mantel, the rows of photos in their ash wood frames.

His face is stern as he glances at a particular photo. He, a half-smile as his hand rests on his son's shoulder. Lawrence when he was a boy of eight. Lawrence's other shoulder had a delicate white hand upon it. Gerti, her lips dark with her favourite shade of lipstick, her slight freckles littered her face, her silky blonde hair up in a beautiful age-appropriate bun.

His hum-singing fades as he continues to stare, the family photo, the family in the photo appearing as sharp and elegant as their social standing. That day, Gerti had scolded him all morning, her eyes wide and glossy, her alabaster skin held a blue and yellow hue under her eyes. Her fingers were cold and clammy.

"For the love of everything, Brahms, hurry for once." Brahms flinches as he can still hear her screeching, "Lawrence, get the cat's paw out of your mouth and stop pulling its tail!" He chuckles,

"I miss that cat," Brahms laughs to himself. Never one for pets but how that scraggly little beast could make his son laugh in the most jovial way, warmed him greatly.

His amused grin falls as his eyes lock with Gerti's. Grabbing the photo, his thumb ghosts over her image, remembering how once soft her skin was. His stomach churns as a chill seeps into his bones, shaking him in his spot.

He places the family photo back on the mantle, right next to a photo of her. Her hands grasping each other, face tilted slightly, a timid smile upon her face. "Sir, I don't need my photo taken!"

"Y/n, as my employee of a year, you are practically family." Brahms let out a shaky breath as his mind replays the conversation. "And you may call me, Brahms. You address Gerti by her full name."

"Gerti and are intimate in ways that have allowed us to be close."

"Pray tell may I watch these intimate moments?" His cheeky reply had cost him an ear full from his wife when she had found out. Brahms still never understood why women used such charged words to describe a close friendship.

Brahms left the living room, a stirring in his gut had him heave. He wanted to call upon her for aid, 'Fetch me a water with some ice, and actually bring some black tea and one of our lemons from Italy.' he clears his throat at the thought of dryness being washed back by the cold refreshment.

He had given her a few hours a week for personal time. Free to be spent however she pleased. Ever since the death of his wife and Lawerence attending Rugby School for Boys she had more free time. Much to Brahms immense displeasure.

Brahms had taken to stalking her on her days off. Wanted to see what she got up to. Where she went and specifically with who. He would linger twenty feet behind, always darting behind stalls and other tall men to hide, he even took to wearing a coat that he kept hidden in hopes she would not recognize him further.

He stared in amazement at how well she helped an old lady onto the trolley all the while juggling her belongings, refusing a 'tip' "It's the nice thing to do." in reference to helping others.

His cheeks flushed whenever she stopped to smell the flowers, literally. A quaint smile as she turned down the offer for a free one from the vendor. She often stopped to sniff the white and yellow flowers. He had noticed Daisys were her favorite.

He seethed when one day you were stopped by a handsome Youngman, his tall lean frame stood confidently as his dark brown eyes held a softness as they looked down at you. He had overheard the name in a distinctly American accent, "Dan, yeah I'm studying medicine with my colleague, I'd introduce you but..." He hated that you always walked near the campus, hated all the young men eager, too eager to chat up a single young lady.

Dan had never gotten farther than chaste conversations and one quick feather-light kiss on her cheek.

Brahms wondered if he should up and move, just to be a little further away from the university, away from the young men, away from one of them stealing her away. She was his, he had just yet to convince her. Ask her, even bring it up in any conceivable way.

One occasion made the blood sear in his veins. He should have been more away, should have been more vigilant of this Dan fellow. He watched from a distance as Dan rounded the corner and collided with her. His tall body fell over hers, his hand had just managed to catch the back of her head, softening to the blow to the ground.

"Oh, God! I am so sorry!" Dan's eyes wide in shock, "Oh, I'm so sorry."

She laughed, "No, no, it's fine," Brahms gritted his teeth.

"No, it's not." Dan pulled himself and her up, his hand holding her in a firm grasp. "I am so sorry." He scratched the back of his head, his expression doleful.

"Accidents happen." She assured, grabbing his hand still wrapped around hers. " It's okay Dan."

"You remember me!" Dan's brown eyes lit up. A Radiant smile over his face as he stepped closer to her.

Brahms seethed as the scene played out before him. She smiled, he smiled. She laughed, he laughed. The words between the two began to fall effortlessly between them both.

He watched despondently. How she could let herself relax so easily in another man's presence. How her demeanor shifted around Dan. Those stiff shoulders eased themselves as Dan placed his hand on her shoulder and winked.

Brahms cursed, the university's chapel bell rang out. Every thunderous clang shot through Brahms. Every clang was a reminder he had another place to be. The dreaded desk in the dreaded little corner of his office.

He turned one last time, eyes watched as she smiled with a warmth he'd never seen, how she leaned into Dan as his smile shined bright.

Brahms walks up to his maid's room, thanking Gerti for installing a sense of comfort in Y/N as to never locking the door.

He jiggles the door handle, "Hm..." Again, "Weird," his eyes narrow, "Bloody thing is locked." He jostles the handle, "Bloody woman..."

Click

"Ah, there we are." He hums in approval as the door creaks open. Forever grateful for the previous owner teaching him how to easily unlock a door in the house without a key "Rickety ol' tings" Brahms mocked the man's heavy accent.

He inhales as he enters her room. The simple little abode warmed his heart. Her bed and the nightgown left upon it stirred his loins. He walks to the bed, grabs the nightgown, bringing it to his nose, he growls as he inhales, her natural scent lingered on the garment.

Brahms holds the garment in his teeth as he shucks off his pants, freeing his painfully erect cock. The thoughts whirl in his mind as he plops onto her bed, sighing with content as he sinks down into the mattress and a sneer as he grips his cock.

The same bed she slept, where when the night calls for it, he knew she'd sleep naked. "Fuck..." He growls through the nightgown, ripping it from his mouth to place it over his chest. Her bed, her bed where she no doubt has touched herself, even if briefly in a beautiful sinful manner.

Does she shy away as she dipped those delicate little fingers into her dripping pussy? Does she bite her cheek to stifle her pitchy moans when that jolt of pleasure shot through her?

Brahms collects some spit in his large hand, sucking in a breath as his cold spit touches his cock. His hand pumps eagerly around his thick member, a low groan as the image of her crawling up to him floods his mind. He sighs as he pictures it as her hand gripping him, gasping at how large it is,

"Brahms, my fingers can't even wrap around it!"

"That's okay, love, use those pretty little lips and that wet little tongue to help you."

"What if my make-up smears?"

"Oh, love, that's what I want." Brahms throws his head back, thumb circling his swollen head, picturing it as her delicate wet little tongue. He grips himself harder as he swears he can feel her lips wrap around his cock.

His low groans and breathy moans fill her little room, her name falling from his lips, "So beautiful, Y/N. My love, so perfect, mhm, yes, further down your throat, moaning around it."

Brahms breathing hitches as he pictures her, clawing at his chest as tears prick the corner of her eyes, "I'm a little nervous," She says as she rubs her glistening pussy, inches over his leaking cock.

"You got this, my love." Brahms keens,

"Will it fit, Brahms?..." She bites her lip, a hand groping her beautiful chest.

"My love, just relax, I have you." He pictures gripping her hip to ease her down onto him, gripping his cock as he imagines her warm pussy gripping him.

Audible slaps from the fisting of his cock, mixing with his now desperate pleas and moans fill her room. She's on top of him, her chest flushed against his, she's commenting on how she loves the feel of his hairy chest, praised-filled moans as she comments on his pecs flexing under her.

Brahms bucks his hips into his hand, "Hold you close." He moans as he pictures rolling on top of her, her legs wrapping around his lower half, arms pulling him in close, whispering in his ear,

"Brahms cum in me, cum in me, make me yours." He grips squeeze around his cock, imaging it's her pussy clenching around him, "I love you, Brahms."

He hisses as his body shakes, muscles flexing, toes curling as he snarls out his release. The image of her accepting his seed sends heat washing over him. His cock pulses in his grip, his cum spraying over her nightgown, the remaining spilling down his fingers and cock.

His temples pulse, his ears ringing. His toes unfurling as his legs ceased in their shakes. He squeezes his cock a few more times, hearing her breathlessly thanking him, "It's so warm in me. Thank you, Brahms." He swears he can feel her nuzzling into his chest as if she was there.

Brahms coughs as he sits up, shaking his head as he gingerly throws his legs over the side, placing his feet on the door. The nightgown falls over his cock. He snorts, using it to clean himself. He stands up, placing the nightgown where he had found it. A wicked and mischievous grin spreads over his face at the thought of her wearing his spent at night.

He grunts as he retrieves his trousers, pulling them up in haste, tucking his chub back in. A content sigh as he eyes the bed and nightgown. She wouldn't be sleeping alone for much longer.

Brahms snaps his attention to the trill of his front doorbell. He clicks his tongue as he makes haste to the door. He debates on if he has time to properly clean his hand, decides to just wear a fancy white-glove he leaves, conveniently, near the front door instead.

"Coming! My Maid is out currently," He sucks in a breath as he pulls a glove over his right hand, he cocks his head quickly before opening the door. "Sorry, it'd have been answered sooner...who are you?"

Brahms stared down at the short man before him. His brown hair combed expertly to the side, his brows immaculate under his thick glasses. He wore a glowering expression, his lips in a tight line.

The man clears his throat, "Herbert, Herbert West." Brahms makes note of his American accent, "I believe this paper is for the lady of this residence." Herbert whips the paper in front of him, his expression changing to say "Well, hurry and take it!"

"Mr. West."

"Herbert."

"Herbert, If by Lady you mean, Gerti? She passed awa-"

"I don't mean your dead wife."

Brahms's eyes narrow at Herbert. He opens his mouth the speak.

"I mean, Y/n. She is the only lady living here. So Dan tells me."

Brahms's jaw slackens, "Dan." He says more to himself.

"Yes, it's an invitation to a formal at the university. He already invited her. Just wanted to make sure she got all the details, it's all there on the paper." Herbert whips it again in front of Brahms.

Brahms yanks the paper from Herbert, eyes scanning it wildly.

University of London

Residents of Handel Mansions we formally invite you to bring along the most beautiful dame for the start of our fall formal.

September 28th, 1900

Entrance fee 1 pound, with a beautiful dame on your arm the fee is waved.

Brahms stares back at Herbert who pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "Well," Herbert begins, "I figured be best to drop it off for Dan. He's been awfully busy." He flashes a smile to Brahms as he turns, "Dan also says to let Y/n know he wishes her luck at her new job on Robitaille's farm." He turns back around to Brahms, "Oh, it was nice meeting you, Mr.?"

Brahms pauses, clearing his throat, "Brahms Heelshire."

Herbert clicks his tongue, "I knew that." He walks down the stairs, a pep in his step, "Was nice meeting you Mr. Heelshire."

Brahms stares at the short man walking away, nodding to a man walking past. He turns back around, slamming the door behind in, the frame shook.

He stares down at the paper, eyes reading it over and over again. "A formal." He starts, "That Dan..." His breath catches in his chest, "A job?" he questions aloud.

He collapses against his door, slumping over as he crunches the paper in his hands. His thoughts raced to her, cursing himself for not intervening that day she ran into Dan. Wishing he just took the reprimand from his employer and raced in to shove Dan away from you. Creating some fantastical lie as to why he was suddenly there.

Brahms's thoughts slip to his son. Lawrence, his green eyes shine whenever he and Y/n play. He hugs her like he did his mother. How y/n always promises to play with him, tuck him at night. How were you going to tuck him in if you were to be away? How were you going to be there to kiss his little cheek as he falls asleep?

"How are you going to be there for me?"

#brahms heelshire #Brahms x reader #Brahms x you #Brahms imagine #Brahms heelshire x reader #Brahms heelshire x you #Female reader #Slasher x reader #Slasher x you #Slasher imagine #Herbert West #Dan Cain #Smut #Lemon #Victorian AU #Victorian era #late victorian era #edwardian era

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thisisnotourlasthunt · 4 years ago

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Andrew Showing The Foxes His Love Through Actions.

All through “All for the game” we can see how Andrew shows his love through actions. I believe that Andrew does care for his teammates and I know I; m not the only one, so I wrote this. (Also, I will just forget about the choking scene because N*ra did their relationship so badly, like- ugh, that’s for another time)

Tw: Curse words, references to the foxes pasts, punches, vomit, Riko, mentions of scars, mentions of nightmares, mentions of panic attacks, mentions of past self-harm, probably many spelling and grammar mistakes.

Allison.

It happened during a game, the foxes were winning and the other team were getting exasperated because they could not get past the backliners and if they could, Andrew would not let them score.

During the last minutes of the game, a player from the other team made Allison trip on purpose and “accidentally” kicked her.

Everyone else were too far away from them.

Except Andrew.

When the referee called the fault, Andrew was already there, punching the guy resulting in him taking a step back and falling to the ground.

As the referee gave him a yellow card, Andrew extended his arm to help Allison up.

And if he asked Renee how bad the injury was, no one had to know.

Matt.

When Matt was visiting his mom during summer vacations, they decided to go shopping, there he found the most adorable hoodies. It was orange on the outside and the inside had a really soft and warm fabric, which was white and had orange paw prints. But the best part was that the hoodie had fox ears.

Matt obviously bought nine of them.

“Disgusting.” Andrew had said, which Matt had obviously expected, so he thought nothing of it.

Everyone wore them, Aaron had given his to Katelyn, except Andrew.

But when winter came, Matt saw Andrew get out of his dorm room with the hoodie on, pulling it tighter against himself when a cold air blast came.

“Not a word.” Andrew deadpanned, pointing at Matt, when he noticed him, before leaving the tower.

Matt smiled the whole day.

Dan.

During one of their dinner bankets, the foxes were placed into pairs and told to socialize with the other teams. The pairs were meticulously design so that ‘the monsters’ (minus Nicky) interacted. This meant every ‘monster’ was placed with an upperclassmen. Andrew got Dan.

So when they Dan were talking to some players from Penn State, the Ravens decided to join.

They began talking sh¡t about Dan’s time as a stripper.

Andrew didn’t say or do a thing, knowing Dan was capable on fighting her own fights, she is the first female captain on Exy, but he does stand to the side, throwing a death glare to them.

But when one of them decide it’s a good idea to slap her in the butt when she is distracted....Andrew intervienes.

He grabs the Raven’s wrist, twisting it before pushing him into a table.

Dan is surprised, to say the least, but she knows that the Raven will get a worst fate if she leaves Andrew like that.

Calmly, she tells him she is okay and that the Raven didn’t touch her and that he can look and see for himself.

The latter does the trick, Andrew turns his murderous glare at Dan so she turns in place extending her arms showing him that the Raven did nothing to her.

Andrew calms after a while and stands up, glancing at the Raven one more time.

The rest of the night Andrew does not leave Dan’s side until they head back home. Dan attaches herself to that memory forever.

Renee.

Renee and Andrew sparred at least once a week, more whenever Andrew was having a bad day.

Such as that moment, Aaron’s trial was just around the corner and Andrew was not having it.

He went to Bee’s twice but it still wasn’t enough, so him and Renee spared.

But today was a specially not good day, Aaron’s lawyer had said that he’d have to speak about what happened that day.

Renee knew that Andrew was far more on his head than n the present so she wasn’t mad when Andrew threw her down to the mat and her hip bumped onto the floor.

For the first time since they spared that day, Renee saw Andrew actually see her.

His eyes were wide, probably surprised of what happened so she reassured him that she was okay and that it didn't hurt much and that she’d had much worse before.

But he didn’t listen to her and got off the mat.

Renee stood up and went for her water bottle, thinking that Andrew had gone to let out some steam alone.

But then he came back with an ice package in hand and gave it to her.

Renee thank him, placed it on her hip and sat near him while he starred to the distance in moral support.

Nicky.

Nicky wasn’t one to get sick often, but when it happened, he really got sick.

So when one day he wakes up with a headache and all of his bones ache, he knows he’s in trouble.

Not wanting anyone to be worried about him, Nicky tries to stand up, just for a blast of nausea hits him and he has to run to the bathroom before he pukes on their bedroom.

When he is done throwing his guts out, he brushes his teeth and walks out to the kitchen for a glass of water. But when he gets there, a water bottle is out with a bottle of Pepto-bismol beside it.

In the middle of his confusion, Andrew and Aaron appear with a thermometer, a blanket and pills.

“Go lay down,” Andrew says with an uncharacteristically softness in his tone.

Nicky complies and walks towards the couch, Andrew protectively trailing behind him with his phone and a blanket.

“I don’t have any class today, Aaron has two in an hour but then he’ll be back. Tea?” Nicky is perplexed at this attention given by his cousins so he is only able to nod and think who were these people and what did they do with his cousins.

The rest of the day, the twins (mostly Andrew) take his temperature, give him his meds, cook for him and help him out whenever he needs it.

Nicky sleeps with a smile that day.

The next day, he feels much better, but because the sickness messed with his feelings, he has an urge to hug his cousins.

He asks for permission and surprisingly, Andrew says yes.

Nicky keeps the hug fast and makes sure he doesn’t make Andrew feel trapped.

He still cries at the memory.

Aaron.

Out of all the foxes, Aaron is the one with the most difficult things to study. He is in fact studying pre-med.

So during the finals week, he is the most stressed.

There is this one class in which Aaron has been having the most trouble with and if he doesn’t pass the test, he’ll have to repeat the class. So to say that he was stressed was an understatement.

He begins studying for that class a week and a half before the exam is and the day before the exam, he skips gym, morning practice and afternoon practice.

He studies for the exam the whole day and had to be reminded to take breaks for the bathroom and meals constantly.

He is also forced by Andrew to sleep when he woke up at 3 am and Aaron was still awake, studying.

Aaron keeps thinking of the material as he tries to sleep, and isn’t able to until 4 am, he dreams on the material the whole night.

When he opens his eyes, he sees that the sun is much higher than usual, worried, he checks the time on his phone just for his fears to be true, his alarm didn’t sound and he slept through the whole exam.

He doesn’t even care to change and runs to the building. The door to his classroom is closed and the professor is not there.

“Can’t stop thinking about the exam? Me neither.” He hears one of his classmates say behind him.

“I didn’t even do it.” He says through his teeth.

“What do you mean? I saw you there.”

Aaron is confused so he asks more classmates if they saw him, and all of them said that yes, they saw him there.

Hurriedly he got to the tower and confronted Andrew if it was his doing and if he did the exam for him like they did in high school.

“I did.” was Andrew’s only response before walking out.

Aaron got a B⁺ a grade much better than if he had done it by himself.

Kevin.

After Riko died, his and Andrew’s deal could be done, but they had grown close, they had passed so much time together since Kevin escaped Evermore.

Neither of them would say it out loud, but they were each other’s best friend.

So when Kevin learned that his things would be thrown away from the Nest, he went into a spiral.

But when Andrew asked and Kevin couldn’t say why, Andrew made it his mission to know.

Neil had a few assumptions, but when he had been at the Nest, he had been too focused on his injuries that he wasn’t a good resource.

So Andrew contacted someone he never thought he would be speaking to. Jean.

Jean told Andrew of Kevin’s old bedroom and the things Kevin had to hide away from Riko because if he found them, Kevin would be punished. Yet he didn’t know what these secret things were.

Thankfully, Jean knew where the hiding spot was.

The next day, Andrew took the Maserati in the early morning without a word (Neil knew but he had to act as if he didn’t), and made his way to Evermore.

Once there, he had to sneak inside, but given that the Nest was desolated for classes it was easy.

When Andrew got to where Jean had told him where the hiding spot was, he found a small shoe box.

Opening it, he found three things and Andrew immediately understood Kevin’s spiraling.

When he got back to the tower, he directly went to his dorm. Inside were Neil, Nicky and Kevin watching a game.

Andrew signaled Neil and the latter made Nicky follow him out.

“Where were you? You missed morning practice,” Kevin said as soon as they were alone.

Without a word, Andrew took the shoebox out of his bag and carefully gave it to Kevin, who took a shaky breath at the sight of it.

As soon as it was in Kevin’s hands, he opened it and carefully took the three things which were the last things he had from his mother.

A woman’s ring, a record player and a photograph.

Tears immediately sprang from Kevin’s eyes and Andrew decided he would give Kevin his space.

“Thank you,” Kevin said as he opened the door, Andrew just nodded feeling a weird warmness in his chest.

Neil.

Andrew shows Neil his love in so many ways, helping him out during panic attacks, reminding him that he’s safe, holding his hand, kissing him, sharing a cigarette in the roof, stroking his hair when they cuddle and so much more.

But the most important thing Andrew does for Neil is letting the latter see his vulnerability and trust him with it.

It starts with simple things, Andrew letting Neil sleep with him in the same bed, cuddle together, sit on Andrew’s lap (and vice versa), etc.

But it slowly begins to increase, let Neil stay whenever he gets a nightmare and/or a panic attack, let Neil take care of him when he gets sick, let Neil cuddle on top of Andrew, let himself seek comfort in Neil, Andrew letting Neil take his armbands off, see and touch them.

It takes a long time, but Neil doesn’t mind, those little things are more than enough for him and he doesn’t expect more from Andrew, but welcomes this little things and holds onto them with all of him.

Bonus:

Wymack.

Wymack is always threatening his foxes with running marathons and says that their personal stuff is over his pay rate, but oh doesn’t he care for them.

He works hard for them so they can have good things and safe and comfortable area for them, that’s why he had the walls on the showers made.

He loves the foxes, and they love them too.

One morning, he had to organize some piles of paperwork, but he had a stressing week and the night before he hadn’t been able to sleep good, so after a while of organizing paperwork, he decides he deserves a break.

The foxes are supposed to be in class so he doesn’t expect them until the afternoon. He goes to the lounge and lays down on the couch to “rest his eyes”.

He falls asleep almost instantly.

Andrew had forgotten something on the court after their morning practice so he decided to go now, he had finished his classes and knew that Wymack had to organize some paperwork, he was surprised to see the old man asleep.

Andrew could remember his initial fear of the man when he saw him the first time, he was tall, broad and serious, but he didn’t let it show. He had been waiting for the man to do something to him, but instead the man had respected his boundaries and didn’t ask when Andrew broke into his home in the late night and made himself a pot of hot cocoa (which had been bought for this reason).

So quietly, Andrew went to Wymack’s office and organized his paperwork, marking those who were missing one or two things with a post it and leaving right after he was done, not expecting the man to know it was him.

When Wymack woke up and walked back to his office he was surprised to see that his paperwork was organized. He mentally questioned who it was but when he read the post its he immediately knew it was Andrew, he knew all of his children’s handwritings, and made sure he bought Andrew’s favorite chocolate ice cream.

Abby.

Abby was the first one, apart from Bee, to see his scars.

The first time she had tried to say something but she had seen something in his face because he didn’t and let him place the armbands back on.

After that she looked away when he took them off and just glanced at them for a second to make sure there were no track marks before turning around again so he could put the armbands back on.

(She knew there would not be track marks, so she just looked at them so there would be no new ones, he cared for her foxes.)

And during the physical exam, she made sure not to touch him more than necessary.

Abby checks on Bee asking if he’s okay, she never expects an in depth answer, just a confirmation and she feels relief when Bee tells her that he is getting better.

On one of his sessions with Bee, she suggests Andrew that he should tell someone about his scars, preferably someone who has already seen them.

Andrew knows what Bee is trying and Bee knows that Andrew knows and Andrew knows Bee knows that Andrew knows.

In the end, he does tell Abby. He keeps it vague and watches her reaction, waiting for a small expression change, but thankfully Abby just listens, and shows no pity, knowing that Andrew would hate it and does not comment.

When he’s done, she just nods and thanks him for telling her and when Andrew leaves, Abby lets the tears she had retained out.

She keeps the truth guarded with her life, glad Andrew trust her enough to say this.

Bee.

It is not a secret that Andrew sees Bee like his mother figure, out of all the woman in his life she was the only one that he didn’t feel the need to be unlike himself, she loved him just the way he was.

It was scary at first, his mind supplied that it would be just like Cass, he just had to wait for the other shoe to come down.

It never did.

So he found himself driving to her office when he needed to understand something or he was just not in a good mental place.

He would also call her when he didn’t have the energy to move.

She was on one of his sides during Aarons trial, helping him keep his cool when he felt like he needed to punch something.

When it had been his turn to say his testimony, he had looked at her and Neil, remembering that they would be with him and that they would show no pity to him.

So the day before Mother’s day, when him and Neil were shopping for clothes, and he saw a coffee mug in the shape of a bee hive that read “To the Bee-st mom” he had to buy it.

The next day he arrives to her office and leaves the cup before leaving without a word.

It fills Bee’s heart when she reads it but knows best than to comment of it on their next session.

But if she uses it everyday and it becomes her favorite mug, no one has to know.

Look at me posting three days in a row, I’m proud of myself ngl. Anyways, have this, hope you like it, I tried my best and this is honestly the longest “headcanon” I’ve ever written.

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iambrooke · 4 years ago

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I Can’t Compete.

Summary: You knew it wasn’t long before you two fell apart even though you needed him the most.

TW: Slight depression, Fluff and Angst. (Sorry if I miss labelled this)

Request by @being-worthy. I hope you enjoy this!

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x reader.

Masterlist

———————————————————————————

It was night time, and in the penthouse you and Lucifer where sitting in silence, once again.

You knew that you were drifting apart but you still loved him. Although you loved him his precious love still longed for Chloe. You knew that it would happen eventually, maybe you were just being selfish but you didn’t want to leave him.

A soft sigh left your lips. Just as you were going to say something Lucifer phone rang, interrupting you. He looked at the small device like it was a ticket to a wonderful holiday. He swung his large hands over to the phone and answered the person calling.

“Well hello, detective! What a surprise! whats- oh, that vile little bastard. I’ll be right there ok? Stay put, ok bye,” the conversation was short and in that amount of time worry took over Lucifer’s features.

He sprung up dorm where he sat on the couch, running up to the bar and grabbing his suit jacket.

“I have to go darling! The detective needs me, she’s upset. I’m not sure how long I’ll be but please, don’t feel that you have to wait for me to go to bed,” he explained in a hurry.

“Okay I won’t. You better go,” you said a little tearfully, your voice wavering.

He didn’t say anything else. He gave you a sympathetic smile as the elevator doors started to close. Once they did close you couldn’t hold yourself together any longer.

Tears and sobs escaped you like it was the last time you would ever cry. You wrapped your arms around yourself, seeking the warmth of Lucifers body. You knew that it was time, time that you let him go.

You had to pull yourself together, getting up you walked over to the bed. Under it was your bag, lying collecting dust.

It was where you put your savings. Lucifer had always told you that he would provide for you but you always liked to have some money of your own. Just when you were going to grab the bag a suddenly you felt like you were going to be sick.

You already knew that you were pregnant but Lucifer didn’t. You only found it out a couple of days ago. Just before Lucifer left that was the moment that you were going to tell him and you will, a least you think.

You got up off of the floor and ran to the bathroom. Lucifer thought you just had a sick bug bout the pregnancy test says different. Holding your own hair back you were sick. You emptied your stomach, leaving an awful taste in your mouth. Picking up your toothbrush you quickly brushed your teeth.

A mess, that’s how you would describe yourself as of now. The heavy bags under your eyes and the matted hair, it was horrible. Heaving a sigh you went back to the bedroom grabbing the bag. Nextly you would have to get your clothes. You didn’t have much at Lucifer’s so you just threw whatever was there into a double bad. With your two bags you walked to the elevator. It was about time you let him go, although it was bad timing you still had to.

Pressing the button for the ground floor you slid down the wall. Sniffing, you opened the bad and started counting the bills inside. There was a least a couple of grand in there. That’ll do you for a while.

All you knew was that you were going to your cousins, Dan’s. He always took good care of you. Your cousin was in fact the first person that you told about your pregnancy. Dan being the supportive cousin he is he was over the moon to find out that he was going to be an uncle. He had actually started buying things for the baby, which your thought was ridiculous as you also only found out.

As the elevator decended you pulled out your phone and texted Dan.

“Hey Danny, can I come over?” You texted.

Just about instantly he replied with.

“Yeah sure, are you okay. Is the baby ok!”

That made you laugh. Tapping away you said.

“Yes, the baby is fine. I just need to get out,”

With that he responded with a okay. You put away your phone and silently waited out the rest of the ride.

Eventually you reached the ground floor, the doors sliding open. You walked over to the back doors and pushed them wide open.

The night air welcomed you as you stepped onto the stony ground. Your own car was waiting for you in a parking space.

You unlocked it and jumped into the drivers seat. You threw the bags into the back seat and then turned back around to turn the keys in the ignition. You reversed out of the rectangular space, filled with sadness.

——————

Most of the ride was quiet except from you occasionally sniffing. You pulled up to Dan’s house, parking your car in the driveway. You took your bags and with heavy heart you made your way to the front door.

Bringing your shaky hand up to the door you knocked a couple of times. You heard some rustling from outside the door before you were met with Dan’s sweet smile.

“Hey! Come in,” he exclaimed happily.

He ushered you into the warm cozy house with eager actions. On the couch you saw plush blankets and some of your favourite food.

“I uh- I wasn’t sure what you would want, you know with you being pregnant, so I just got your favourites,”

You don’t know what you would do without him. A weak chuckle escaped your lips at his rambling.

You looked at him with pure admiration. You smiled and hugged him softly.

“Thank you,” you said, whispering in his ear.

He said your welcome before leading you over to the couch. As you sat down he draped the blankets over your body, making you instantly feel warm.

“So,” he started, sitting beside you.

“have you told him?”

Those words made your heart ache, tears brew in your eyes. You started crying again, you just couldn’t help it.

“N-No, I couldn’t. Dan, he still loves Chloe,” you said, obviously heart broken.

“No, no he can’t! He loves you!” He exclaimed once again but this time it was in disbelief.

“I’ve saw the way he looks at her, he ran right to her side not long ago. He left me to go comfort her, I was about to tell him about the baby but I couldn’t! We’ve been, drifting. I don’t know! I just know that I shouldn’t stand in the way of him and Chloe,” you explained, your voice breaking a few times.

Tears were silently falling down your already tear stained cheeks.

Silence fell over the two of you. You looked at him, desperate for a answer.

“You still have to tell him,” Dan sighed. He was right, you did have to tell him eventually. Although you didn’t know if you could face him, Lucifer.

“I can’t Dan, if I see him I’ll just fall apart all over again,”

“Well, maybe you could call him? Yeah you know what, you have to,” he says truthfully. You just nodded as you knew he was right.

Dan stood up and walked into the other room, giving you privacy. Once again you pulled out your phone and dialled his number.

The line ring for awhile before his soothing voice filled your ears.

“Hello darling, are you alright?” He questioned quietly.

“Yeah, I uh, I need to tell you something,” you whispered, matching his volume.

“Okay, what is it? The detective is sleeping and I don’t want to wake her. Also I might just stay over night,” he said over the line.

There it was, the detective. You just couldn’t compete you can’t.

“I can’t compete,” you said simply.

“Whatever do you mean darling?” He questioned, confusion laced throughout his voice.

“I can’t compete with her, even in my state,” you sighed.

“You can’t- you mean the detective? And what do you mean your state?” He said worriedly.

“Lucifer, I-I’m pregnant,”

The silence seemed deafening at this point.

“What?” He stammered.

“I’m pregnant,” you said, a sob escaping your lips.

You could just imagine the shocked look that was probably occupying his face.

“I’m coming over, where at you? What am I saying, your at the penthouse,”

You cut him off before anything else was said.

“No I’m at Dan’s,” you cried.

“I’m coming over, now,”

With that he cut of, leaving you to wonder what he would be like when he arrived.

“Dan! He’s coming,” you shouted.

Dan came out a sad look on his face.

“I-I’ll go, this should be between you and Lucifer,”

He grabbed his keys and exited the house. There you were, alone waiting for your boyfriend to arrive.

Before you knew it the door swung open, hitting against the wall, to reveal Lucifer. By now you had been pacing up and down, waiting for him.

As soon as he entered fresh tears fell. He didn’t say anything just yet but he took you into his embrace. You couldn’t fight it, so you welcomed it. The two of you stayed that way for awhile before he broke the embrace.

“You, my darling are my whole world, don’t you ever feel that you have to compete with anyone for me to live you because you have already got all of my love, right here,” he said motioning to your heart.

He let some tears fall down his face before he continued.

“I know we haven’t been as lively lately, but whatever you need I will provide for this baby, our baby,” he said, smiling at the fact that you were carrying his baby.

“I did love the detective, but that was long before I met you. I love you so dearly. I really want to be there for the detective as she was one of my first real friends on this earth, but you my darling are my whole world,”

By now you were weak at the knees. His words were full of love. You were smiling now, a big wide smile. You looked into his partially glossy eyes and gave him a kiss.

It was full of passion, oozing with it. His hands snaked around your waist pulling you closer.

Your hands reached up to his cheeks, cupping his jaw delicately. That moment was blissfull, and memorable.

You left his lips feeling complete. You looked into his eyes and shared three simple but beautiful words with him.

“I love you,”

“I love you too, no matter what,”

For once and for all you knew that he was yours and would be there for you through everything.

———————————————————————————

A/N: I loved making this one! Thank you for the request @being-worthy I really appreciate it! As always requests are open!

-Thanks for reading!

-Requests are open!

-Brooke

#fanfic #requests #fiction #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x reader #actors #x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #imagine

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summerlovingbaby · 4 years ago

Text

Bad News Blair

Blair was in love with Nate Archibald, but he lost love for her for a long time ago and only stayed with her because he felt obligated to. He only stayed with her because he had no reason not to, and even if he had a reason to break up with her it probably wouldn’t be worth it. Breaking up with her would bring hellfire upon him by Blair Waldorf herself and all of her minions.

That’s why Blair was so shocked when Nate broke up with her. She thought they had a strong relationship, in fact Nate was the one that cheated on her, so he had no reason to break up with her. But he did. This made Blair angry beyond in reasonable measure, but she didn’t tell anyone. She didn’t tell anyone because she was embarrassed, she was embarrassed because she forgave him, she let him stay, and he still left her.

Nate did have a reason to break up with her. He met someone , he met someone and fell in love. He hung out with her a lot, and as soon as he ended it with Blair he started it with Y/N, he tried his best to keep it a secret, but due to the Gossip Girl that didn’t last for too long. When Gossip Girl outed their relationship, Blair was livid, she was forced to out their breakup.

“ Y/N please.” Nate begged her. They were at the dog park one morning.

“ No... I was against it before GG informed the East Side, I bet Blair and her minions have it out for my blood now.” Y/N replied.

“I promise you, nothing is going to happen... its only a party...I just want you to meet my friends... please.’ he begged once more.

“ Not... gonna... happen... Archibald.” She responded.

“Please.’ Y/N still shook her head in response.” What if I promise you that I will watch all the star wars movies.” Y/N’s eyes lit up, in response.” And I will go with you to the exotic pet fair next week.” Her eyes got wide and a dopey smile appeared on her face.

“ Yes...yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.” Y/N jumped in excitement, and kissed him on the cheek.

Nate desperately wanted to to introduce Y/N to his friends, but she said no every time. She avoided his friends, because his friends knew Blair. Y/N heard stories of Blair Waldorf, how she would destroy those she didn’t like or found quite annoying, and Y/N wasn’t in the mood to be destroyed.

Nate wanted his friends to meet Y/N because he hoped that they would love her just as much as she did. He loved the way she smiled, the way she pushed her hair out of her face. The was she said please and thankyou to servers, the way she cooked and baked when she was stressed or upset. He loved the way she cared, about the little things, she helped at animal shelters and soup kitchens when she had spare time. He loved that she liked riding horses and wanted to be a vet. Most people wanted to be a surgeon or a lawyer or a fashion designer . But she wanted to be a vet.

Two days later, at exactly 6pm, Nate and Y/N arrived to the party. Much to Blair’s chagrin. Everyone was shocked to see Y/N in the flesh, this was a direct challenge to Blair, and no one challenges Blair.

“ Hello Y/N, you must be Nate’s new girlfriend.” Blair said extending a hand to Y/N. Y/N was reluctant to shake her hand, Blair saw his hesitation.” Don’t worry, I don’t bite” She said plastering a fake smile on. “ Here.” she said handing Y/N and Nate a champagne flute. ”In the spirit of goodwill. Don’t worry, its just sprite. I read that you don’t drink.” Blair said wearing a wide smile.

“ Thank you.” Was all Y/N could say, she was shocked and confused.

“Thank you Blair.” Nate said with suspicion in his eyes.

Blair practically skipped away and restarted her conversation with Penelope.

“ What was that Blair, I thought that you wanted to “ destroy her so much that she will never step foot on the Upper East Side again.”“ Penelope said, her voice laced with confusion.

“ Don’t worry, I have it handled.” Blair said with a cocky smirk.

“ Blair Waldorf, what did you do?” Penelope questioned.

“ I put something in her drink , that will make her upchuck everything that she’s at for the last two days.” She said through cheeky giggles.

Y/N was sipping on her soda while Nate was introducing her to Serena and Dan.

“ So you must be Y/N.” Serena said extending a had. Y/N shook her hand and nodded. “ He’s told us so much about you.” She said with a genuine smile.

“ Only good, things I hope.” Y/N responded through gritted teeth. She was starting to feel like throwing up in her mouth, but she put on a fake smile and gritted her teeth.

“ Great things, he told us you kept snakes. I’ve always wanted one, how many do have?” Dan asked.

“ Just a few.” She responded.

The pair of them asked her question after question, which she would have found sweet if it wasn’t for the way that she was feeling. She felt sick again. She felt like she would Linda Blair all over everyone’s expensive shoes any moment. She felt her heart beat speed up, again. Oh how she hated that feeling.

“ Can you excuse me for a moment.” Y/N said after Serena asked her asked her a question about horses. Serena nodded in response and concern.

Y/N was practically running out of the building, her hand covering her mouth and gagging badly. By the time Nate called after her, she was already outside, her face deep in the trash can.

“ Y/N.. Y/N are you ok” Nate yelled as he ran after her, he caught a glimpse of Blair and Penelope laughing.

When Nate found Y/N outside she was a mess, she was dry heaving and occasionally throwing up in the trash can. Her eyes were bright red, and tears were streaming down her face, She was shaking, really badly, so Nate rushed over to her.

“Y/N, are you okay.” Nate asked rubbing her back. He got no vocal response, just her frantically shaking her head no.” Words, Y/N. I need words, I need you to tell me what you need.” Nate said trying to remain calm.

“ I need you to take me to a hospital.” She said. Then she threw up, and collapsed into his arms. That’s all Y/N could remember before the world went black.

PART 2 COMING 02/16/2021

#nate archibald #nate archibald imagine #gossip girl #nate x reader #nate archibald x reader #gossip girl nate imagines #gossip girl nate #gossip girl nate imagine

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zmayadw · 4 years ago

Text

Woohoo, so after X amount of coffee, my brain cells finaly functioned, and i wrote... something(?)

I guess you can call it 'my first one shot' :P

Anyway, it sucks, but who cares, i wrote something finaly! :D

(I can always delet the post muwahahah)

I need more coffee..

Sorry to all for this, have a great day!

Hide with me?

Jake x MC

fluff / sweet / something

You straighten your dress and check yourself once more in the mirror. All good, ready to go. You take your purse, throwing your phone in before leaving the apartment. Driving to Thomas and Hannahs engagement party, you feel nervous. Jake will be there, and you really wanted to talk to him. Ever since Hannah was back, you two never discussed your feelings for eachother any more. You never wer alone long enough for it to be mentioned, and you definitely didnt want to talk to him about it over in messages. You had no clue where you two stand at, so you hoped to talk to him tonight, and finaly find out.

„MC, you finaly came!“ Hannah cheerfully ran to you, embracing you in a hug. „Hi, Hannah.“ You hug her back. „Come, everyone is here already.“ She take your hand, pulling you towards the table where everyone sat. „MC! Finaly, I tought you might not show up!“ Jessy chimes, getting up to hug you. „You know me, I'm always fashionable late.“ You tell her teasingly, releasing her from a hug. „ Come, sit next to me, I have soooo much to tell you.“ Jessy pulls you to sit down and starts talking, but your mind was wondering, your eyes looking for Jake. You found him sitting at the other end of the table. He turned his head, and your eyes met. He smiles widely at seeing you, and you smile back, before Jessys words make you turn to her. „Hellooo, are you even listening to me?“ she asks. „Ofcourse!“ you say quickly turning to her „That is very interesting, indeed.“ You tell her, hoping she wont notice you havent really paid any attention to her words. „I know, right!?“ she exclaim, and you exhale relieve that it actually worked. You glance back at Jake, but he was looking the other way, talking to Thomas. Ah, well, I will have my chance later, you think to yourself, focusing back on Jessy.

As the formal part of the evening was over, people started mingling. You finaly have your chance to go talk to Jake. You wer chatting with Dan and Thomas, when you saw him standing alone at the bar. You quickly finish the drink you have in your hand „Sorry, boys, be right back, gonna get me another drink.“ „Easy there, MC, the night is still young.“ Dan teases. You grin at him heading for the bar. „Hello there.“ Jake turns to you „MC, Hi!“ He smiles warmly at you. „Been a while since we talked.“ You smile back. „How are you?“ you ask him. „Huh, i'm better now. It's been a rough few days.“ He says sounding exhausted. You look worryingly at him „ Did something happen?“ „Yes.“ He says thoughtfully „ Hannahs engagement party happened. She was giving us all a 'tough love' regime.“ You laugh. „Hey, dont laugh.“ He says desperatly „ It was terrible. I started hiding from her at a certain point. If it was that bad now, I'm scared to even imagine how she will be with wedding planning. And I'm running out of places to hide!“ „Awww, poor you.“ You look at him with a grin „Well, you can count on me in the future. Just give me a call, I'm sure I can provide you with a good hiding place.“ He looks at you with devilish glow in his eyes „I'll keep that in mind for sure.“ You feel heat coming to your cheeks at his gaze, and he was about to say something more when Hannah shows up. „MC, I was looking for you! Come, I want you to finaly meet my parents.“ You give Jake an apologetical smile and he smiles back, dissapointed look on his face, as Hannah pulls you away.

The rest of the evening wasnt much better. The moment you tought you finaly can go look for Jake again, someone would jump at you. You felt exhausted, and just wanted a few minutes to catch a breath. So when the opportune moment came, you quickly went for the balcony. The night was warm, and a soft breez blowing was welcoming. You lean on the railing taking a deep breath, enjoying the moment of solitude. „I guess we had a same thought“. You turn arround, Jake smiling at you, standing next to te doors. You smile back „Yup. Looks like you're not the only one who needs hiding.“ You tell him coming closer to him. „It's better when you have some company.“ He grins at you. „Definitely!“ you say laughing. „You look amazing, by the way.“ He says, and even in the dark you can see his eyes glowing as he looks at you. You feel your cheeks getting warmer again. “ Thank you. You dont look bad yourself.“ And he was looking good, with black pants and white formal shirt. You tell him teasingly „I never thought I will see you wearing aynthing else then the hoodie.“ He laughs „Neither did I. So don't get use to this look of mine.“ „Too bad, it looks good on you.“ You tell him with a grin. „Huh, thanks, but i still prefere my hoodie over this any day.“ He says grinning back. As you smile, you think, ok, finaly a chance to talk to him. You take a deep breath „Jake, can I ask you something?“ He looks at you intensly „What's up?“ „I was wonder...“ but you fel silent. „MC, you there?“ Your eyes widen at the sound of Jessys voice coming from near the balcony doors. All of a sudden, Jake pulls you to him, and you let a muffled yelp at his chest not expecting it. You look up, him putting a finger to his lips signaling you to be silent, as Jessys head peeks throuhg the doors. But she couldnt see you two , so she continued on with her search. You both chuckle silently. „Gosh, can't I have five minutes to myself.“ You say to him exausted leaning your forehead to his chest. He looks at you and raise his brow „How desperat are you for that five minutes?“ You look back at him „Pretty much.“ „All right, lets get you that five minutes then.“ He smiles and you snort „And how?“ „Do you trust me?“ he asks you. „Ofcourse.“ You tell him back. „Good.“ He grins at you, and in a few swift moves, turns from you and jumps over the balcony railing. „Jake!“ you yell through your teeth terrified, quickly moving to the railing, only to see him grinning at you from below. It wasn't that long of a distance, but still. „Come on.“ He says, extending his hands towards you. „Are you insane? I'm not jumping over it.“ Jessys voice echoed from the inside once more, calling your name. Jake looks at you with a smirk „You sure about it?“ You shake your head at him. „I cant belive I'm actually gonna do this, and wearing a dress no less!“ You take your shoes off, tossing them next to him, before carefully throwing your legs over the railing. „Don't worry, MC, I'll catch you.“ he smiles at you. „You better!“ You warn him, detaching from the railing, falling safely in his hands. „Nice jump. I give it 10/10 for the landing.“ He teases. „Gee, thanks.“ You grin, moving from him to take your shoes. „What now?“ „Now you have your five minutes. It's about how long it will take us to walk slowly back to the entrance from here.“ „And how do you know that?“ you ask him, putting your shoes back on. He grins „I don't, I'm just making it up.“ You laugh shaking your head at him. „All right, I guess we can start walking back then, before Jessy sends a search party after me.“ „Sure, if thats what you want.“ You look at him inquiry „What do you mean?“ „We can go the other way. There's a little park not far from here.“ He looks at you smiling softly. „Really? And what about the party?“ you ask and curs inside instantly, when all you wanted was to say 'yes'. He looks dreamy at you „ I would rather be hiding somewhere with you then go back.“ His words leave you breathles for a moment, the sound of your heart beating faster echoes in your ears „So, what do you say, MC?“ He ask, extending his hand to

you. „Will you hide with me?“ „That sounds so much better the going back to the party.“ You say and smile warmly, taking his hand. „Great! Lets go before someone sees us.“ He grins taking your hand tight in his, pulling you to him to start walking. „You know, we will have to think of a pretty good excuse why we left the party. We can't hide forever.“ You tell him with a grin as you two quicken your pace, murmurs of the party falling more silent behind you. „Mhm, im sure we will think of something good.“ he says, and looks at you with a devilish grin, intertwining your fingers with his „ After all, we have all night for it.“

#duskwood #duskwood jake x mc #i wrote something!#i'm sorry it sucks #dont read #i blame it on too much coffee #but i need more coffee :D #i'm blabbering again #sorry again

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elowenp · 3 years ago

Text

Dan Powell is seven years old and if he’s certain of one thing it’s that he loves stories.

Not quite the same way as Mark. Mark prefers his words drenched in the mud and grit of the reality he thinks is true.

“Doesn’t it make the stories taste bad?” Dan asks, “Doesn’t it make them grind against your teeth and cut against your tongue?”

Mark just laughs. “I can stomach it. It’s way cooler than all that unreality fluff you like.”

Dan laughs but inside he’s frowning. The stories he likes are real. It’s just that what he counts as reality and what Mark does must be very different things.

Dan likes stories about odd things. He likes stories about monsters and cults and old, old gods. He likes weird. The stories don’t have to have a hero either, Dan is perfectly happy without a happy ending, just so long as there is an ending. When Dan starts a story leaving it unfinished has never been an option. When his parents read him bedtime stories, always a chapter at a time, he picks the book up once they leave and gets through as much as possible before passing out with the book falling wide open over his face.

Dan like stories and he likes endings and he likes weird. So when he overhears some people on the subway talking about the Visser Building and the odd happenings within, he can hardly not go searching for the endings of that tale.

The next day he walks down seedier streets than any seven year old should really be walking down to get to the Visser Building. He wonders if it’s odd that he didn’t need to look at any maps before coming here. It’s probably normal, he decides, I’m just good at finding odd things.

Dan is good at finding all the stories at the school library that probably shouldn’t be available to children as young as him and no one finds that strange. This is just more of the same.

As he walks into the Visser Building an overwhelming feeling of rightness comes over Dan. This is where you’re meant to be, it whispers, stay here forever and all will be right, right, right, it sings. Dan thinks the whispers make a very good point but he has to be home for dinner otherwise his parents will worry. So he won’t stay. This time.

He walks through the corridors. Some of them feel like mazes. Some of them tilt downwards so harshly that they feel like slides. All of them are new and interesting and definitely full of stories. Dan turns on the tape recorder he stole from his Dad. Mark is always going on about how a journalist needs a good record of everything that happens and this feels like the sort of story Dan is going to need to replay to fully understand.

“This is Dan Powell recording.” he says into it, trying to sound as serious and adult as he can. There isn’t really anything else for him to say after that since all the things he’s feeling are too new and unexplainable to put words to so he just lets the tape recorder go. The whirring of it is nice background noise and Dan likes the way the machine feels in his hand. Almost as if it’s a part of his hand.

Something about that thought may be significant, but before Dan can examine it too thoroughly he’s rounding a corner and face to face with a woman about to knock on a door and holding a tape recorder just like his own.

She looks surprised to see Dan. As if Dan isn’t meant to be there. Dan thinks this is a bit unfair as the woman’s presence doesn’t sing to him like the rest of the building does so she definitely isn’t meant to be there. She looks like she’s nice though and she hasn’t shouted at Dan for trespassing yet so Dan doesn’t say that. He just stands there, listening attentively to the twin whirring of two tape recorders.

“Hello,” the woman says after a moment, cautious. “I’m Melody Pendras, do you live here?”

“No. I’m Dan Powell.” Dan holds his hand out for Melody to shake since he’s sure that’s what he’s meant to do. Melody smiles as if this is a little funny but bends down and shakes Dan’s hand seriously enough that he forgives her.

“Then why are you here?”

Dan frowns. “The same reason as you.” He gestures towards her tape recorder. “I want to know the story.”

Melody starts frowning as well. “That’s a very dangerous thing to want.” she says.

“I know. It’s okay though. Getting to the end is worth it.”

Dan feels Melody re-evaluate her opinion of him. He feels the way her eyes land on him shift until it’s a lot more like how she looks at the rest of this strange, strange building. “I think you would fit in here very well.”

Dan nods in agreement. “Thanks. You wouldn’t.”

Melody laughs lightly. “I hope you’ll forgive me for finding that to be a good thing.” Dan shrugs. It’s not a good thing. It’s not a bad thing. It just is. “I need to get back to work but it was nice to meet you, Dan.”

“It was nice to meet you too, Melody. I hope your story doesn’t end badly.”

Melody looks at Dan very oddly but before she can say anything the door she had been stood in front of swings open and she becomes too caught up in greeting the occupant to notice Dan fading back into the shadows of the Visser Building.

Dan ends up having to leave to get home for dinner before finding anything else important. Then he has a playdate with Mark the next day. Then he goes to his school’s very small creative writing club the day after that. Then there’s a disciplinary meeting between his parents and his teacher about the somewhat disturbing story he wrote and Dan gets grounded for the rest of the week.

When Dan finally gets a chance to return to the Visser Building all that’s left is rubble and the odd blood splatter and something else.

The something else is calling to him. The whirring, crackling, spinning of a tape recorder with nothing left to record is loud in his ears despite the fact he know no one else can hear it. His hands are too small and his body too weak to lift the rubble but he aches to do so.

“You lost, kid?” a voice asks from behind Dan. He turns to see a woman who definitely doesn’t care if Dan is lost or not.

“No.” Dan pauses so that he doesn’t sound too demanding or rude. Then, “Can I have the tapes?”

The woman’s eyes narrow and Dan is struck by how unlike Melody she looks. Melody had a kind face, all arranged in the most welcoming shape. The whole time this woman has been looking at Dan she’s kept her face twisted into something mildly disgusted.

“What tapes are these?”

Dan points to the rubble. “The ones in there. They have a story on them, I need to know how it ends.”

“Huh.” the woman says, looking at Dan like an artefact in a museum. “If you were a little older I would know a lot of people who would be interested in employing you.” She tilts her head to the side as if considering Dan. “Do you like cities?”

Dan hasn’t thought on it much before but the concept of living anywhere less full of stories than New York kind of makes him want to tear his skin off. “Yes.”

The woman’s eyes gleam with interest. “Do you have friends?”

Dan thinks to how Mark can make him laugh hard enough to snort milk out his nose and yesterday he fixed the plaster on Mark’s knee just right when the school nurse did it wrong. “Yes.”

The interest in the woman’s eyes dulls a little. “A pity. Still, far more useful than most people will ever be.” She reaches into a pocket and pulls out a card with the letters LMG on it and a phone number. “My name is Iris Vos. Once you’re old enough to be useful, maybe get a degree or something, call this number and tell them that I sent you.” She turns away from Dan a little. “That should give me some credit with the bastards.” she mutters to herself.

Dan looks down at the card. It’s in pristine condition, just like he supposes everything of Miss Vos’s must be. The numbers have an odd shine to them though and Dan finds himself wondering if there might be something interesting there. “Thank you for the opportunity.” he says, because he’s certain that someone said that after receiving a job offer in one of the TV shows his dad watches. Miss Vos nods so Dan guesses he probably said the right words and she walks off towards people in suits holding official looking clipboards.

Dan wants to know how this story ends. He needs to know how this story ends. The curiosity burns in his stomach like acid and fire and hatred and wonder and Dan isn’t sure how many years he can last before it finds a way to destroy him. He’s always loved endings after all, perhaps a little too much.

So Dan tucks the card very carefully into his pocket and spends a moment hoping fervently that one day he’ll be old enough to be useful.

#archive 81 #a81 #podcasts #this doesn't work with the timeline but shhhhhh #making dan Weird is honestly my favourite thing #writing

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 3 years ago

Text

The Hard Things

Doing the right thing is never easy. Calum and Freya have a lot going for them. But what happens when fear gets in the way.

Inspired by I Follow Rivers by Marika Hackman and Starting Line by Luke Hemmings.

Calum X Black Female OC.

I cried once writing this. 7.4k words. Angst. Just angst and sarcasm.

@notinthesameguey is personally responsible for this. So blame her.

The Hard Things--Alternative Ending

Masterlist (on semi hiatus)

___________________________________

If Freya were going to be honest, she would admit that the second she saw Calum and his friends walk into the building she knew things were going to be bad. But Freya’s not being honest. Because being honest would almost include admitting just how too easy it was that day. How if those particular sequences of events hadn’t happened that specifically, then she wouldn’t be here--trying not to watch the quiver in his chin or the way he blinks rapidly. Then she wouldn’t be trying to forget the way his voice quakes.

But they did happen in that particular order. On a Thursday afternoon, he and his friends walked through the door. And here, here at this part, it’s easy to be honest.

Honestly, she is staring--way too hard and way too long at the rag-tag gaggle of people, but especially the man pulling up the rear of the group with a bright red hat snug on his head and covering his eyes, though not even the brim can hide the plump full lips pulled up into a tiny grin at something that must’ve been said. Because another guy, this one fairer-skinned in a hat too and a baggy t-shirt is also laughing. And of course, this group would enter just as Tre stepped away to check on the lanes already throwing. Vanessa wasn’t too far from the desk, but she was trying to help some parents figure out when they could schedule an event for someone’s birthday in the coming weeks.

This only leaves Freya as the only person available right now until rounds were completed to handle any new patrons. With a glance down to the clock on the computer, she could see that a couple more folks would be coming back to the front at any point. But clearly, that point wouldn’t come quick enough.

“Hi,” Freya greets flicking her gaze back up to the group with a quick smile. It’s the training. The fact that more than once she’d been told that customers liked her, especially the way she gave instructions but she needed to smile more. And if this weren’t the job keeping her afloat during her time of getting her degree, in addition to the administrative desk work she did at the university, she would leave here in a heartbeat. Possibly even in the blink of an eye. Whichever was faster.

“Hey! We were hoping you had a couple of lanes for us.”

Freya counts the head. “Just you seven?”

The guy that spoke initially turns the man in the back with the bright red hat on. “Still no word from her?”

The guy shrugs. “Don’t sweat it.” And Freya clings to every syllable. The almost sleepy drawl to his voice lined with a twinge of an accent. She can’t place it at first. But all of them share slight variations in it. The man in the red hat’s voice is low but smooth.

“Yeah just the seven of us,” a taller man pipes in.

“Okay, we can only have two people throwing on a lane at a time. I can put you on neighboring ones but we’ve got very strict rules about how many people can throw at a time.”

There’s a murmur amongst the group but eventually, it comes back to Freya that they’re okay with it. She runs down the safety rules, the forms they have to form out, and checks their IDs. She notices the man with the red hat’s name is Calum and though she knows she shouldn’t, she tries to commit it to memory. It won’t last long. She forgets names all too fast, but she never forgets a face.

“Nessa, watch the desk for me!” Freya calls out as she collects the cases with the axes and directs the party to their lanes. There’s a table for convening and a separate for the axes to rest. “Alright,” she starts with a quick whistle to settle the group. They get chatty but are quick to turn their attention back to her. “I don’t want to kick anyone out, but I will. So one last recap of the rules.”

When Freya finishes, she has the entire group repeat the rules back to her. When they return it to her all correctly, she smiles. “I appreciate y’all already. There are several range officers. They monitor carefully from several posts,” and she points them out as she speaks. “The shift rotates out in an hour. Meaning you’ll have to pause let the old shift go and let the new shift jump in. You’ll hear beeps to signal you to stop and start. If you have any other questions or concerns, you can find me at the front or a range officer. And we’ll be happy to help. Let’s keep all fingers, toes, extremities, and eyeballs intact and we can have a great day together. Enjoy.”

Usually, in her safety spills and best way to throw, Freya makes sure to keep eye contact with everyone in the group. However, she places a purposeful gaze on Calum when she tells them to enjoy. It’s reckless--she knows that. A little flirting hasn’t hurt her. Besides, she knows the moment she walks away, he’ll forget about her. They always did and she likes it like that. Flirty enough to keep good reviews, but never too flirty to insinuate anything more.

In her departure, Freya feels eyes on her, lasting longer than usual. And maybe she put more emphasis behind the swish of her hips and maybe she hoped it was Calum watching her walk away. But she doesn’t dare turn around. No matter how much she hopes in a fleeting second that maybe she had flirted just a little too much, Freya does not turn around to confirm or deny anything.

Back at the front desk, Freya takes a look at the cameras. Anyone at the front can see the lanes too--it’s for safety when you have live blades. Her gaze travels over each one though just out of the corner of her eye she catches the bright red hat. A few guys clasp him on the back but she can’t hear whatever else is said. The rest of the afternoon goes by slowly. As people leave, few come in to replace them. The weekend will be busier--it always in. And Freya knows that soon too, once the afternoon becomes evening things will pick up just a little.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Everything okay?”

Freya barely sees who it is talking before they’re out of the door. Calum, phone pressed to his ear. She watches him for a beat as he paces near the front windows of the establishment. Her gaze doesn’t linger long before something on the floor catches her eye. She sees it’s black and square. When she gets closer it looks like a wallet. Clearly used and loved by the creases in it. She glances back up to Calum to see him still on the phone and peeks at the ID just to make sure who it belongs to.

With the blank stare of Calum’s ID photo looking up at her, Freya takes it back behind the desk. She’ll wait until he gets off the phone. A minute or two later, the door chimes again with Calum reentering.

“Hey, you dropped this,” she calls out, stepping out from the desk to hold out the wallet.

Calum pats his pockets and a split second panic causes his eyes to go wide. “Oh shit, thanks. I-I didn’t even realize it fell out of my pocket.”

“No worries. Just glad to get it back to you.” Calum takes it and slips it into his pocket, hands patting the outside to make doubly sure it’s secure. “You guys doing okay back there?

“Yeah, we’re good. Though I think somehow the girls are kicking our asses.”

Freya smiles with a small tuft of laughter escaping her. “It’s power and finesse. You can tear down brick buildings but if you don’t get the release right so it’s not twirling over the axis too many times, you’ll come up with nothing.”

“So says the expert?”

Her cheeks heat for a second at the raised eyebrow Calum gives her. Running her tongue over her teeth to hide the smile, Freya nods. “Yeah, I’ve thrown an axe or two in my lifetime. So I guess that counts as me being an expert.”

Calum laughs. Whether it’s at her or not, Freya’s not sure. But she likes the sound of it. “Tell me what else the expert suggests.”

A moment passes where Freya’s watching his gaze. Wondering if an anime glint will twinkle over his brown eyes because it’s a smooth delivery. Smoother than some of the stuff she’s done. There’s no way he’s fucking real.

Freya takes a half step back, slipping through the threshold that separates the front desk from the main lobby and the hallway to the back where the lanes are set up. “This expert suggests that you try her advice and impress all your friends.”

“More finesse. In the wrist, right?”

“In the wrist.”

A shy smile is shared between the two of them. It borders telling everything and saying nothing at all, borders on giving away on how much Calum might’ve considered concocting a ruse just to get her attention and how much he did backtrack on his plan because it was his sister calling and that shocked him. The smile borders on Freya twirling the Havana twists around her finger and her rolling her eyes at Calum’s thinly veiled attempts at flirting.

Both of them are saved by the front door chiming and Freya gives a nod to Calum before turning her attention to the person now entering. But Calum watches the way she leans into the counter and smiles down at the small child standing next to their parent. “Oh my god, you’re getting so big,” Freya comments and then walks back around to settle next to them.

“No, Fre, I’m not bigger dan yesterday,” the kid responds.

“Huh, could’ve fooled me. Your dad will be out in just a second. Shift change had to wait for one more person. Anything cool happen at school today?”

Calum leaves then, though he can catch the small boy gush about the races he won at recess. It’s probably crazy of him to try and find some sort of way to come back here again soon, but Calum’s already trying to put together an excuse.

When Calum heads back to the front with the group, laughing at Michael’s utter disgust at the way the last few throws went, he does look for Freya. A girl with red hair is sitting at the desk instead. And though a little bit of disappoints settles into his stomach because he wanted to tell her how well her advice worked, he finds himself resolved and it wouldn’t be broken.

******

Calum told himself whatever Freya had to say during this talk wouldn’t break him. Hell, if he were honest, he didn’t think it would go like this. “You know, I used to say I was no good for people all the time,” Calum laughs. He sniffs hard and wipes his noses on the back of his nose. “It was a clean get-away line.”

“I’m not giving you a get-away line. I’m giving you the truth,” Freya returns.

“No, I’m-I’m not saying you’re giving me bullshit. You’re setting a boundary and a good one at that. I respect it. I’m just saying the irony. The same thing I used to tell others is coming back my way.”

“Karma’s a bitch.”

“I don’t regret it.” Calum shakes his head, not because he’s lying. But to emphasize his point.

*****

Calum doesn’t regret going to the Yelp, Facebook, or Instagram page of the business to see if she had liked it or appeared anywhere on their social media. And luck would have it, he manages to find her. The owners like to show off their employees. Their preferred form of employee appreciation appears, in Calum’s investigation, to be a quick bio of new employees along with a video of them throwing. He nearly misses Freya’s post because of his quick scrolls. The bottom of the page comes up quicker than the app could handle and just as the new page loads that he notices it. The thick twists and black lipstick sitting on her cool dark brown skin.

He doesn’t regret it when he followed the account that was tagged, or the message he sent her from his finsta, or the messages they exchanged for a few days. And he for damn sure can’t find himself to regret it when he came back to the place a couple of weeks later to see if Freya was working.

There’s no regret when she smiles at him and laughs. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to test your theory yet again. It worked last time. But I want to make sure that it wasn’t beginner’s luck.”

“You doubt me. You dare doubt me? I’m offended.”

Calum laughs briefly as he leans into the counter of the front desk. “It’s more like I’m testing a theory. Making sure the results can be recreated.”

“Oh, I promise you my results are valid.” She reaches out for his ID and every so gently their fingers brush. Calum can’t tell if that’s intentional or not, but it doesn’t the slight shiver that runs down his spine. “So just you today, huh?” Freya continues on, grabbing a clipboard, some forms, and a pen.

“Just me.”

“Rest of your friends scared.” Her gaze falls to the stack she’s gathering, checking something off on the top page and then sliding the ID back to Calum.

“They’d probably laugh at me if they knew I was here.”

“Laugh at you?”

“Tell me--why do you think I’m here?”

A moment passes between them. Though it takes up more like several seconds, time feels froze as Freya studies his face. Calum wants to reach up and readjust his hat out of a nervous habit. He wants to take it back. But more than anything, he wants to know if he has a shot. If it’s worth really pursuing.

“I think you’re here to test a theory. Maybe, just maybe you’re here because of Vanessa too,” she smiles as it says. Like she knows that isn’t the truth but she doesn’t want to give into Calum.

And while it’s not the answer he was hoping for, Calum takes it. She wants to play a game and he can be down for that.

*****

She wants to reach out for his hands. They sit next to each other in the lounge chairs Calum keeps lined around his pool. But Freya thinks twice about it. The bulbs dangle above them casting an amber hue onto the water, a stark contrast to the twilight pressing evening closer to night’s full darkness. Freya does regret it. She regrets not leaving her teasing response just to testing a theory. She knew what Calum was fishing for, what he was hoping to confirm when he came back by himself.

Maybe it was just where she was then. Then she thought she could give more. Now she realizes she can’t. She likes it when she’s dating someone and they can decide on a random Sunday for errand runs. She likes having them around. And not that Calum wouldn’t be around. Tours didn’t happen all the time. But they did run long. And who the hell knows where she’d be in eight months after she graduated. Her life wasn’t stable--she wasn’t tied to the West Coast like Calum was.

Her life was full of variables. Ones that she didn’t really plan on trying to solve until closer to Christmas in the spring right before graduation. And she didn’t want to give Calum any more false hope. It wasn’t set in stone that she’d be staying in LA and it wasn’t set in stone that she could handle the long departures. Calum deserved someone that was more sure of themselves.

“I think having regrets is no good anyway,” Freya says, finally breaking the long silence between them. “Having them doesn’t change what happened anyway.” But that doesn’t change the fact that you still regret this, Freya thinks to herself.

“I used to believe love could overcome any obstacle.”

Freya turns to look to Calum and catches thhe way the stubble on his chin from the few weeks he’s gone without shaving halos just a little in the lights. “Used to? The right person, the right love--”

Calum shakes his head. “Now I think people loving me means that they love themselves and they can tell me what they want or need. No guessing. No games.”

“Still sounds a lot of a hell lot like overcoming obstacles.”

“But it’s not a dream. It’s tangible. It’s not me daydreaming up in the clouds. It’s me--right here. Right now. Knowing seeing what it means more than anything else that all the shit I was thinking of as a kid really needed just to be put on the ground level for me.”

“What-what do you mean?”

“I mean as much as it fucking sucks that you’re telling me no, I know you’re doing it for the right reasons. I-there’s like this thing with me. I watch people. I don’t walk into a room of strangers and become the center of attention. I don’t like people all that much, but I care. You know? I care about the people I put into my life and I want them to do well and succeed. I want what’s best for them. It’s not always easy to want that, but innately, I do, I think. Deep down I want what’s good for people. And maybe love is doing the hard things, you know.”

He pauses. Freya watches the way he drops his head, fingers threading through the curls. She keeps quiet. There’s something more, something deeper to the words. “And you’re doing the hard thing. Whether it’s for me or not is debatable,” Calum continues. “But I think love is doing the hard things.”

“You said that having some space was important to you. And while I understand that, like you do need to be your own person in a relationship--”

“Your reasons or how you want to justify it to yourself for me isn’t something I need. You already said that you know what you expect and like out a relationship and that the touring would be too hard for you. Set boundaries for you. What good does it do to justify it to me?”

“So you know I’m not being an asshole, Calum. For fuck sake.”

“No, no, I-shit. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant--who are boundaries really for? What do they do?”

“I guess they do protect the person making them. But I’m not trying to be an asshole to you. I swear.”

Calum looks up from the cement of his background lining the pool to the glossy sheen coating Freya’s eyes. They’re black in the settling night. But Calum knows they’re more like a medium brown--dark enough to get lost in them, but when they catch the light just right, they can feel like an enchanting spell sucking him in.

“Freya, you are a sarcastic son of a bitch. But an asshole to those that don’t deserve it, never.”

She sucks on her teeth, swatting at his bicep. “Take that back.”

Calum leans onto his left elbow, closing the gap between them just a little. A smile lifts his lips gently. “Never.”

“We’ve both been burned. Is it bad I didn’t want that again?”

“No. I used to say love is a scam. So I don’t think I’m necessarily the poster boy for relationships.”

“But admit it, you hoped this was the one so you wouldn’t be the odd man out.” His brows furrow at her comment. Freya gives him a soft smile. “Two of the guys are engaged. But all three of them are in a relationship.”

He sighs, gazing dropping from her face. “Maybe I was hoping so. Is it bad of me to want to be in love?”

“No. I told some kids that my boyfriend was Shermar Moore,” Freya admits with a laugh. “I was working at a summer camp and one girl saw his picture on my phone. It was my lockscreen for the longest time. So I just went with it. Well, I was spurred in part because of Drew who was a fucking creep and wouldn’t leave me alone. But I did fantasize about it. Dream of being in love with some famous and the limelight. Shit at that point, I hadn’t even dated anyone either. So another part of it was a desire too.”

“Is that part of it too? Worried about what trolls and whatever will say?”

“Oh, no one who doesn’t know shit about it can make me get outside myself.” Freya laughs but reclines into the cushions of the chair. “But maybe it’s a little bit of it. That’s too many voices talking all about you. It’s a lot of noise and some of it has to bleed through you know. Even if you’re careful and you work not to take it in, some does, right?”

“I don’t think humans were created to be able to handle that much criticism or even love and adoration. Our brains can’t handle it. So yeah, a little bit seeps in. But you keep that door closed as much as you can. You talk to people that also get it. Fuck, you even get a therapist.”

“Or a dog,” Freya says before turning her head to watch Duke laying inside next to the back door.

“And a dog,” Calum corrects.

“Excuse me, you get a therapist and a dog.”

“Tell me something.”

“I’m listening,” Freya returns, looking back to Calum.

“Before you go tonight, tell me the thing you’re going to cherish between us.”

“Will you do the same?” Calum nods at the question but doesn’t respond verbally as he gazes at her.

“Do you want to answer now?”

“Are you leaving now?”

“I-I didn’t think you wanted me to stay.”

“I want you to stay as long as you feel comfortable. And then when you leave, the parting thing we have is the good, the best of us.”

“What if I stay until dawn?”

“Then you stay until dawn. Though, I think it’s safe to say both of us will pass out by 3 AM.”

“That was the most ridiculous thing I think I’ve ever done,” Freya laughs. Remembering the same she spent a Friday night after a shift at Calum’s place. He had a birthday party on Saturday along with a vet appointment with Duke. And then Sunday, Freya had we weekly lunch with her friends that she couldn’t miss. So Calum asked her if she wanted dinner Friday night at his place. Which she said yes to, but then it turned into them doing a movie marathon. Which then turned into Calum betting her that he could stay up longer than her. But they ultimately passed out around 3 in the morning on Calum’s couch.

“Thankfully, I did not miss Duke’s vet appointment that time,” Calum tacks on.

“Yeah, no thanks to me waking you up half an hour before it.”

“That darlin’ is what I call details.”

“No, I call that a very important fact,” Freya defends sitting up. “Duke would’ve been late twice if not for me.”

Calum giggles at her incredulous look. She always got heated fast, though she knew when it was serious things and when it wasn’t. “It wasn’t him paying for the visit.”

“So you ought to kiss the ground I’m standing on right now because you didn’t have to pay anything like a cancellation fee.”

“You’re not standing on any ground right-” the sentence doesn’t get the wind to complete itself when Calum watches her stand up. “Or maybe you are standing up.”

Freya hears him, but she gazes up to the sky. Trying to look past the twinkle of his backyard lights. There’s not much to see due to the light pollution. But the sounds capture her attention next. His neighborhood’s almost been mostly quiet. But with the twinge of the summer’s heat fading, Freya can hear the last bit of people outside. A dog barks into the night and there’s the crunch only tires on gravel and asphalt can give. There’s a hum in the night that Freya can feel in her bones.

It’s hard not to fall in love with the sounds of the night. It’s hard not to romanticize this, how possibly if things were different she could find herself at some point always standing in the middle of this backyard listening to the sounds of the night, having Calum beside her or maybe Duke when he’s gone and just letting herself go to the buzz. In all honesty, Freya craved stability. Always having something to come back was her dream. But in that dream it was a partner who would be there for every dinner. A shared space that was full with both of their presences.

“When you think about coming home what’s there?” Freya asks. “Like, in ten years, what’s in your home when you walk inside?”

Calum closes his eyes, bringing the picture to his mind’s eye. “Like, the truth of what I see?”

“The truth,” Freya confirms.

“Two kids, a dog for sure. Maybe two. A wife. A lot of laughs. Being knocked over with hugs. Maybe a movie that hasn’t quite been paused catches my ears. Maybe it’s summer and my mum’s over too. Because she wants to be around the kids as much as possible. And my sister--she comes over when she can too. So we have to figure out what to cook because it’s a family dinner night. I’m mostly likely in Australia. But I could be somewhere else. Just not LA. I don’t think I could have kids here.”

“That sounds lovely, Calum.”

“But I am scared. My parents divorced. What if it doesn’t work out?”

“That wasn’t your fault. And if we heal from our trauma before having kids then maybe some of our fears won’t come to reality.”

“And if it does.”

“Then we know the boogeyman is real and sometimes we can do our best but things that are meant to happen will still happen.”

“Your parents are divorced too, right?” Calum remembers her mentioning a distinction between her mother’s house and her father’s house. But she hadn’t outright stated that her parents were divorced, just alluded to it.

“Yeah. My dad remarried. He seems happy.”

“What about you? If you closed your eyes and thought about yourself in 10 years, where are you?”

“I technically asked what do you see in your home when you walk inside 10 years from now.”

“Oh, come off it,” Calum laughs, throwing a dismissive wave her way.

“But,” she giggles and then closes her eyes. The breeze blows across her face and she lifts her chin up to catch as much of it as she can. Then she speaks, “I don’t know. Home’s full of the people I love. And I feel stable. I’m not worried about what I’m going to do weeks from now when something inevitably has to change. Because nothing’s going to change. Or at least, I’m not anticipating change. I think that’s what I’m sick of. I’m sick of dealing with change and constantly moving around and not knowing what the next year is going to look like. I’m tired of looking over my shoulder and planning. I just want to be still.”

“You did the whole back and forth between houses, huh?”

“Yeah. I always felt like I was playing two versions of myself when I was younger. I had to be one way around my mother and one way around my father and according to my therapist, the constant games of charade fucked me up a little.”

“How often did you go between their houses?”

“Every weekend.”

Calum sucks in air through his teeth, “Yikes. Yeah, no wonder you want stability.”

“Oh, thank you Dr. Hood. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Well this is a question so it’s not something you don’t know, but is the thought of me being gone for months at a time remind you of that? Like, you’d have to be one way while I was here and then another way when I was gone?”

Freya shrugs. But it’s right on the nose. “I’d have to learn to be with you and then be without you. And all I have are switches. No dimmers. I’m either on or I’m off. And I-I’m working on it. But I’ve got a long way to go.”

Calum scoffs, whispering mostly to himself. “All I have are switches. No dimmers.” It’s not a taunt to her. It’s not him blowing her concern off. It’s recognition that colors his tone. It’s the sigh when hearing something that connects so deeply it takes all the oxygen from lungs with it.

“And I swear to Christ, Calum, if you make a Lowe’s or Home Depot joke, I will extract your ankles from you right here right now.”

“Extract? What the hell?” Calum laughs.

“Broken ankles heal,” Freya returns with a smirk. Her face is lit mostly from above due to continued standing position but Calum catches the way her lips move.

“Remind me to really never piss you off. Between your ability to throw axes and the time you told me about putting ham on a girl’s car, I don’t think I want that kind of trouble in my life.”

“I only put the ham on the car because my friend was heartbroken and she was a cunt for cheating.”

“Yeah, see that’s what I mean,” Calum points out, his index finger swirling in a circle in front of her.

“I could’ve slashed her tires too.”

“I think ruining her paint job was more than enough.”

Freya places her hands on her hips, looking down at Calum. “I’ve got some anger issues too. Did I mention that?”

They laugh but Calum recovers first to speak. “I hadn’t noticed it before. Thank you for telling me that. But in all seriousness, Freya, the boundaries you have make sense. I hope you continue with therapy as well,” he states with a giggle. “But it’s not easy to look back at yourself and realize ‘Oh shit, maybe I don’t want that thing again because that actually fucking hurt’. And do something about it. That takes a lot of strength.”

“Thanks, Calum. And I will continue with this therapist for the rest of the school year because it’s free. Shoutout to some universities for having really accessible mental health resources.”

Freya finally sits, facing Calum. He keeps his gaze averted. But it doesn’t bother her. “What’s the intention behind telling me I can stay as long as I want? Is it to get me to change my mind? Just earlier both of us were near tears and now we’re walking down memory lane. Sharing things we hadn’t shared yet.”

“I want as much of you as I can get before you’re gone. Selfish, right?” The tears are back, she can hear them in his voice.

“No. A bit of your masochism showing, certainly.”

“You ever know something’s bad for you, but you want it anyway? You want the pain anyway?”

“I mean considering both of us are littered tattoos, pain’s not something we’re too worried about.”

Calum wishes he didn’t laugh, not even the short burst of laughter. “Someone’s coping with humor.”

“Someone’s self flagellating.”

“Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want you to go. But I don’t want you to hurt yourself either.”

“Maybe love is doing the hard things. You said that yourself.”

Calum swallows hard and his voice only comes out in a whisper. “I know I did.”

Freya blinks away the blur of tears. But as soon as they clear, more replace them. Her voice is tight as she speaks. “Doing the hard things suck though. Don’t think this is easy.”

“It’s because it’s the hard thing,” Calum returns. He wants to smile and manages to get a small one but he knows. Freya’s going to leave. She won’t stay.

“My favorite thing,” she starts and Calum exhales hard. There it is--the confirmation. The sentence gets caught in her throat so she pauses to clear it, work the tears down to at least speak. God, why couldn’t it have been easy. “My favorite thing between us, about us, whatever you want to label it as, is that we could also be honest. And even if it was burning waffles or ducking paps to watch a movie for an anime that you had no idea anything about because I wanted to go desperately and you had to Google a summary during the previews, we were always honest with each other.”

“I want to put it out there that you only told me that it was for an anime as I was buying the tickets. So I had zero time to prepare beforehand.”

“I told you the name of it the Monday before we saw it.”

“And admittedly, I forget it the second after you said it.”

“Fair enough, Calum. Fair enough.”

Calum spins in the chair and takes her hand. The first time they’ve touched today. Normally, Freya was more than happy to give out hugs but when Calum opened the front door, she have a half smile and stepped inside. If he could go back to earlier, he’d tell himself that was the first sign.

His thumb passes gently over the butterfly on her left hand. “The thing I’m going to cherish is that you made me feel sixteen again. My entire life changed at sixteen and I felt pretty invincible. I was also scared and excited. I was going to be in a band, like a one with lots of records and I don’t know--I only had that dream to believe in because I damn sure did not have a back up. It was before the downs. And I don’t regret the hard times either. But you’re the first person in a long time that gave me those butterflies. Assumed I was just never going to feel them again and I wasn’t a good person before, not as good as I could’ve been. But you gave me something to be good for again. Getting your text made my whole fucking day. And you-god, you cared about so many things. I bought books you recommended and couldn’t wait to talk about them with you. I remembered the kind of person I want to be. So thank you. For making me feel sixteen again in the cheesiest way possible but also in the best way possible too. That things are worth giving a shit for and that we can let people in and it won’t always burn.”

“Just a little sting.”

Calum nods. “Just a little sting.”

Freya brings his hands to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to the right one. Her sniffle is loud amongst the hum of the night. “If it weren’t for the fact that my eyeliner is tattooed to my face it would probably be running. I’m sorry it has to hurt at all. But-but I’m hopeful.”

“Hopeful?”

“Hopeful that we’ll get what we need out of life.”

He nods again, watching the tears track down her cheek. “We will.”

Her hands gently slip back out of his grasp and she uses the back of her wrist to press under her nose. The tremors shake her hands, so she shakes them before standing. Calum cranes his neck up, words about to fall from his lips. But she cups his cheek and smiles at him. “Don’t. There’s nothing else to say.”

It happens just as he blinks. He sighs, eyes closing to steel himself. Because there’s always so much else to say. And then her lips are pressing to his forehead. It last long enough for Calum to take hold of her thighs instinctively want to pull her in closer to him.

Then she’s gone. His hand slides down the rough denim and Freya’s walking to the edge of the backdoor. Duke picks up his head but doesn’t move much else. “Oh yeah, you don’t need to move. You know everyone comes to you, huh?” She gives him a few pats and scratches. “I’ll send you something for your adoption day, okay, love? And you might hate wearing it or you might love eating it. But be on the lookout for the mailman. He’ll have something from me.”

Calum doesn’t say anything as she says her goodbyes to Duke. She kisses the top of his head too and he thinks she might’ve whispered something else but he’s not certain from his spot on the chair. The swish of the tassels on Freya’s jeans signal her and the click of her heeled boots tell Calum she’s walking farther from him. The latch in the fence clicks and the wood around the hinges creak as she presses into the door. There’s a soft thud as the door shuts and then Calum can’t hear anything over the cough he uses to try and cover the tightness in his chest, can’t see anything in the blurry vision of his tears

She’s just gone.

******

When the front door bell sounds, Calum doesn’t think much of it. It could be a package or someone selling something. So he pushes up from the kitchen table and heads to the door. There on his porch is a light blue box with white bones on it. The subscription box that Calum gets already came. But then he notices an index card with a handwritten address on it. He picks it up. Right there in the return address is Freya’s name. He sucks in a breath and then looks to see who it’s addressed to: Duke Hood + Calum.

“Duke,” Calum calls out, stepping back inside to the house. He closes the door with his foot. The click of paws let him know the old man’s heard his call. “A little early birthday present has arrived just for you.”

He walks deeper into the living room and sets the box on the coffee table. Inside holds an olive green harness, treats, and a card. Calum laughs as Duke presses his snout against the bag of treats. “Alright, alright. I get it.”

Duke happily munches on one of the chews from the bag and Calum opens the card. A different letter slips out into his lap. He can see the ink and lettering pressing through to the other side. His heart hammers, but he forces himself to turn back to the card. “Dear Duke,” Calum pauses to see if Duke responds but his investigation continues on the treat. “I mean, fair enough.” Calum continues to read the card written by Freya, “Even though only the universe knows your true birthday, this card, harness, and bag of treats is meant to mark you sticking it out with your pops for yet another year. To spare you the grumps about a very cute hawaiin shirt I, instead, got a badass harness. Now you’ll be the coolest guy on the block. Happy Birthday/Adoption Day. With Love, Fre.”

Duke, done with the treat, looks to Calum and settles next in front of his folded legs. “Oh, so much work eating a treat.”

But Calum reaches down to gently pats at his tummy. The front of the car is cute, Calum finally recognizes. A cartoon white dog is drawn on it with large pink glasses against a yellow background. There’s no telling where she found it at. Calum looks down to the handwritten letter on printer paper. What would Freya possibly have to say?

Calum hadn’t had the guts to press send on any of the texts he drafted in the three months since they last talked. He wasn’t sure if he could. He is sure that if Freya hadn’t wanted anything to do with him, she would’ve said so, and she wouln’t have sent this box for Duke. His fingers tremble as he unfolds the letter.

Calum,

I figured you heard me tell Duke he was going to get a gift. And I knew I couldn’t not deliver on my promise to him. But I do apologize if it crosses any line. Please let me know too--if it crossed any boundaries.

I hope you’re well. Congrats on the latest album too.

With Love,

Freya.

P.S. I saw you a couple times drafting a text to me but never seeing one go through. And if you’re asking why I hadn’t sent a text either, know it was fear too. And me not being sure if keeping it open like that between us would only do more harm than good. So I’m sorry. But I am here, in the sense that to the best of my capacities, I can try to be here.

*****

Her bag’s slipping off her shoulders but she finally gets the key into the lock and gets her front door open. She sighs as she falls into the ugly blue apartment door and all but flings herself into her place. The stack of mail in her hands barely makes it to the edge of the kitchen counter too. It was just one of those days and Freya couldn’t be mad at herself. Everyone had days like this.

Putting her keys up and getting her backpack next to the couch, she settles into the stools at the kitchen counter to sort through the mail. One’s a bill from the dentist she visited a few weeks back. The one thing her student health insurance didn’t cover. But she couldn’t complain.

There are few junk flyers that she immediately tosses. And it’s her name scrawled in a almost all caps that catches her eyes before she even gets finished with the rest of the pile. In the top corner for the return address she catches the name: Calum Hood + Duke

“Mail from Duke, what a surprise.”

But the real surprise is Calum’s name. It’s just a plain white envelope with a stamp and the city mark it was mailed from. Freya pops it open and sees a sheet of legal pad paper folded up.

Freya,

Thank you for Duke’s gift. The chews are a hit. The harness is much appreciated for our walks. Though, I think they’re more like walks for me. And Duke gets a little exercise in before he tuckers out. But I don’t fault him. No lines were crossed. So no need to worry about that.

I think I like the idea of mailing letters more than I do like texting. But I understand. Doing the hard thing sucks. It always has and always will. Do what you need to for yourself.

Thank you. I wouldn’t normally do this. But there’s a couple songs--they’re about you. I wanted to give you a warning before you listen to it. If you listen to it, I guess I should say.

Best of luck with your last year of school. You’ll have that Master’s in no time and then maybe soon you can take over the Library of Congress like all your evil plans have laid out. (I know, I know. Not what your Library Studies degree does. But I still think you should.)

With Love,

Cal

Freya chuckles at the Library of Congress comment. She picks up her phone and finds Calum’s thread. It’s easy to want to tell him that she can’t take over the Library of Congress and that she’s glad the treats went over well and that the harness was really more of an accessory to make sure Duke looks like a badass.

But she knows--she knows the ease got her into a pickle before. It’s why she stopped things before they got more serious. But was fear going to always predict what she was going to do in her life? Maybe the ease of things was a sign to continue. But if what if things got too far? WOuld be able to handle Calum being gone? Would she inevitably get her heart broken? And sure no amount of contemplation can predict things like this, but she did want to play with that risk no matter how fucking easy it was in the moment.

With a frustrated sigh, Freya drops her face into the forearms. Her phone is still in her grip with the movement. “It’s never fucking easy is it!” she shouts into her apartment.

There’s silence that engulfs her but it gives no response.

#calum hood #calum hood fanfic #calum hood imagine #calum hood blurb #5sos #5sos fic #5sos imagine #5sos blurb #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer blurb #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood x black oc #calum hood x oc #calum hood x fem oc #h writes

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ladyinbooks · 3 years ago

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So on ao3 juiceboxoverlord mentioned ‘ And the way Hess is so enamoured with Dan's emotions and ideology like I bet that if they had never met Hess would still fall in love with Dan on the battlefield probably.’

We all know I have an absolute, terrible weakness for this kind of thing, so I really, really couldn’t resist.

So have a mini AU.

Title: Such Violent Delights Pairing: Hess/Daniel Summary: The Antichrist and the Righteous Man meet on a battlefield. Warning: Some minor descriptions of violence/death; dub-con kissing (I mean, it’s Hess...); Hess POV

These violent delights have violent ends.

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder.

Which, as they kiss, consume.

- 'Romeo and Juliet', William Shakespeare

Hess should have seen the ambush coming.

They have been doing so well recently, in their push against Heaven. More territory has fallen to them, more people persuaded by their promises, their ideas.

He should have known it would be too good to last.

The sharp crack as he twists his hand and snaps three necks, reminds him of nothing so much as the splintering of wet wood. Around him the sounds of the dead and the dying are a cacophony, topped by Abaddon's voice bellowing orders.

The bone-white of her hair is visible at the edge of his eyeline. In her suit she is still immaculate, barking at Raum and Asmodeus as she directs his troops like the General she is.

It makes him smile – makes him bare his teeth at the next angel that tries to rush him, as he extends a hand.

That terrible, tearing sensation down his arm; a light so bright that even he almost shields his eyes. He gets a hand on the angel's wrist and pulls.

There is the searing crackle of holy flesh; the unholy sound of an angelic voice raised in a scream. The noise is enough to make the humans around him flinch back, pressing hands to their ears, in a desperate attempt to block out the death of a small piece of the fabric of the universe.

Hess ignores the shriek, and the white hot pain cracking through his finger bones. He smiles, bloodied teeth and wicked intent, and drops the carcass to the floor.

He’s distracted, unfocused, and so it is instinct that saves him, nothing more.

The sharp prickle of intent at the nape of his neck, and he sidesteps just in time to avoid a blade to the back.

He pivots; lashes out and catches the next down-swing with a scrap of shadow.

For a moment, all he can focus on is the sharp steel of the blade centimetres from his throat. The line of it is bright, burning; the runes inscribed on it are holy enough they almost make his eyes water.

A blessed blade.

He only knows one person who would carry such a thing.

He sidesteps again in time to avoid the second blade aiming to bury itself in his gut. One, two, three heartbeats, and he draws in a deep breath.

Enough, he thinks, and the word is broadcast out.

Everything shudders to a halt.

Painfully, grinding and unnatural, the world stills around him.

He doesn't often do this – doesn't often have the inclination or the energy – but sometimes there is a need for it. An itch, just to walk in a frozen reality where there are no demands on him. No threats.

“Let me go,” someone says, harsh, and Hess smiles.

He knows who the Righteous Man is, of course. He's seen Daniel Waters in reports and later – when Heaven sank their perfect claws into him – on screen and in newspapers. Images of him plastered everywhere: saviour, hero, madman.

“A little lost lamb,” he says, and hears the sharp intake of breath.

When he turns to look, Daniel Waters is still too. He's not frozen though – not like every other wretched creature in this blood-soaked field. He's bound, arms strung out by Hess's power.

And in spite of that, he's still fighting.

Tall, strong; a sharp jawline and an undeniable presence. Eyes filled with the burning silver fire of heaven, smoking with purity and determination as he wades against Hess's darkness. A battered leather jacket and scuffed up jeans. Mankind's saviour.

Daniel manages a step, then another, muscles straining as he claws his way forward. His teeth are bared as he snarls, and for one moment Hess honestly wonders if he's about to break free.

“Let me go,” he repeats, and his voice is firm and clear.

It makes Hess want to ruin him.

Blood-soaked and perfect, this creature – this man – is the image of bitter triumph; a holy sacrament, born to suffer at the hands of those who would use him. Made to fight anyway, because he's good. Because he cares.

“Why should I?” he asks, and watches the way Daniel doesn't falter.

“So I can kill you.”

And it's –

Delightful. Wonderful. It makes Hess's heartbeat skip in a way it hasn't for a long, long time.

“Well aren't you a sweet thing,” he says, just to watch the way those eyes flare brighter.

It makes him smile; makes him lick the blood from his teeth as he thinks of war and ruination, and all he could wreak on this perfect, violent creature.

Another painful step, the footfall as heavy as the centre of the earth. Daniel is closer now, arms still bound, but near enough that Hess can see the scattered imperfections of him.

A small nick at the corner of his jaw, long since scarred. The tendons of his neck as he strains, desperate, against the ropes Hess has bound him with. Blond hair, so dark it's almost brown, cropped short enough that Hess probably couldn't get a good grip of it. A perfect, snarling mouth, and a dusting of days-old stubble.

For a moment Hess wonders what colour his eyes were, before he became this pawn. This holy weapon. Were they brown, or green, or blue? Would they look at him in the same way?

Movement, and Daniel's foot lashes out. The heel of it manages to catch Hess's shin. It hits hard enough to hurt, and for a moment he falters.

Nothing has come close enough to injure him since the Before, and his concentration shatters.

The roar Daniel lets loose is triumphant as he breaks free. He lunges forward, slamming into Hess. His swords clatter to the grass, but his momentum doesn't stop.

They fall to the ground in a tangle of limbs, calloused fingers wrapping hard around Hess's throat, squeezing.

The weight of him is perfect; the heat and strength of his body a paradise Hess hasn't felt in a long, long time.

It makes him laugh, breathless, and for a moment the grip of those hands on his neck fails.

He moves - fast and terrible enough that Daniel's lip is splitting under his knuckles before he can recover from the shock. The force of it snaps Daniel's head back, and the impact shudders up Hess's arm.

He twists and they roll, scrabbling against one another until Daniel is flat on his back, Hess gripping his wrists, pressing them above his head into the mud. His fingernails are digging in, and he watches the way something flares and dies in Daniel's eyes; in the way he tries to bring a leg up, to fight against the weight of Hess across his thighs.

“Stay still, sweet thing,” Hess says, and can't help the way he leans down, leans closer. “You don't want to make me angry.”

Daniel growls beneath him, dangerous and not at all subdued. “I don't give a fuck about making you angry.”

“You should.”

The softness of Daniel's lips is a shock; the sharp inhalation of his breath a symphony. The warmth of his mouth is a victory. The taste of his blood lingers on the back of Hess's tongue, as he smiles against the Righteous Man's mouth.

He wants this, and he wants this, and he wants this.

The perfect way to get back at Heaven. To tear them down, one sanctimonious, inane figurehead at a time.

Except –

A pulse, against the pad of his thumb, thundering in time with his own heartbeat. The sharp, vicious sensation of teeth sinking into his lower lip, and Hess sighs at the feel of it.

Daniel is solid heat beneath him, tangible and human. The way he moves, the strength of him – pressed but not contained – makes an ugliness stir in Hess's chest. The first, icy crack of something threatening to splinter wide.

When he pulls back, Daniel is watching him.

“What –” he begins, and his voice is breathless. “What was –”

And this is what Hess wants. This. Those hazel eyes wide – not silver, not silver, not silver – and Heaven's champion strung out beneath him.

It's not a victory, he realises. Not even close. It's a weakness. A terrible, vicious longing to carve his way deep into this man's chest; to work out all the ways he could be a sinner. To pull him down, because he can. Because he wants to.

Because he can't think of anything else.

Daniel is tense beneath him, watching, waiting. For a moment his gaze slides sideways, snagging on something in the grass less than a foot away, and Hess smiles because he knows exactly what's going on in that angry, clever mind.

“You won't reach them,” he says, low and sweet. “By the time you tried to pick up the first blade, I'd have you weighted down in so many chains that the earth would swallow you whole.”

Daniel sets his jaw. “And if it took me a lifetime to claw my way back up and kill you, I would.”

He means it utterly, and the sincerity of him is thrilling.

This is the only person who can come close to understanding what it is like to stand with a hand on both sides of the scale and weigh destiny. The only one who understands the need for sacrifice; to acknowledge that the old world needs tearing down for a new one to rise.

Blood-soaked and dangerous, and the moment Hess lets him go, he's going to try and tear them both apart.

“Daniel,” he says. Then, “Sweet thing. Angelic fury. Heaven's weapon. Duty and righteousness and honour.”

“Shut up.” The flex of Daniel's fingers, the push back against Hess's grip, and it's nearly enough to unseat him. “Don't you dare –”

He's a killer through and through. Hess can see it, writ deep in the core of his soul. He kills because he has to; because it's right. He protects, and saves, and bleeds for a million souls that will never thank him for it.

And he's perfect.

“I could do so much with you,” Hess says, wondering. “The things we could accomplish.” It's a dream, sweet and tempting. He looks down, sees the slide to silver and smiles.

“But I won't,” he adds. “Because that would ruin you.”

“When I get up,” Daniel says slowly, “I'm going to slit your throat.”

“You're going to try,” Hess says, and hears the terrible adoration in his own voice; the soft fondness he shouldn't have. “But at the moment you're at my mercy.”

He tilts down again; watches the way Daniel tips up a little, without even realising. Sees the way those lips part on a slow, measured inhalation and the dark cut of Daniel's lashes, as for a moment he lets himself be moulded to Hess's will.

What he could do. What he wants to do to this man. It would take decades. Millennia.

“Beg,” he says against the soft, vulnerable skin of Daniel's temple.

Teeth at his ear, and he can feel the slow, careful snarl of those lips. The barely contained rage and want beating through sanctified veins. It makes him shiver.

“Go on,” he adds quietly; a savage demand.

A sharp twist, and he lets one of Daniel's wrists go; feels fingers sink into his hair and pull, twining them closer. The pain of it is a thing of beauty, and he smiles at the way he is going to be pulled apart, one atom at a time, for want of this man.

And Daniel draws back; turns his head a little until they are increments from a kiss, breathing the same air.

“You first,” he says.

#Path to Paradise #Hespherus Jones #Daniel Waters #Ficlet Fridays

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amerrierworld · 5 years ago

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Mine

Ocean’s 8 fan fiction

For anon!

Summary: Lou doesn’t like people touching things that belong to her. A flirt at the bar learns this quickly, and so do you.

Characters: Lou x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,131

Warnings: smut! possessive Lou >:)

“Hey, Dan, pass me another, will you?”

“Sure thing, Y/N.”

Dan the bartender slid a shot your way and you smiled gratefully. You’d gotten to know him pretty well the last little while, since you often popped by Lou’s club to get a drink as she was finishing off work, and Dan often helped you out.

When he disappeared to the other end of the bar to help some drunk girls who were having the time of their life, you barely noticed a guy sliding in the seat next to you until he spoke to you.

“Hey there,” he said. You shot a side way glance at him as you finished your shot. You recognized him a little but didn’t know who he was. He seemed enough of a regular as you saw him wave at Dan.

“Hey yourself,” you bit out politely.

"You come here often? I’ve seen you around,” the man commented.

You snorted, knowing he was stating the obvious.

“What about it?” you asked. You rolled your neck, wondering what was taking Lou so long.

“Just makes a guy wonder, y’know. You always come here alone, it seems.”

But I never leave alone, you thought.

“You’ve been watching me, huh?” you asked, shifting a little.

“Well, I mean, a pretty girl like you can’t be single can she?” he continued. He seemed cute to an extent, you admitted, but you felt sorry for him barking so far up the wrong tree without realizing it.

“I’m sorry, honey,” you drawled. “My girlfriend’s coming to get me any second.”

He barely shrugged at the comment, and instead came closer, suddenly making your skin crawl.

“You know what they say, you just haven’t found the right man,” he flashed a disgusting smile and his hand landed on yours. Alarm bells went off in your head.

“No, I really don’t think that’s the case,” you replied quickly.

“Well then, can I join you both?” he winked, apparently to seem smooth, but failing miserably. You yanked your hand back as Dan came back towards you two.

“Hey man, settle down. She’s a friend of ours here and I don’t think she’s appreciating you coming on so strongly,” he said carefully, cleaning a glass.

“Oh, come now, Dan, we’re just getting to know each other,” he smiled again and wrapped an arm around you, making your head reel in disgust, gripping your shot glass. Dan looked ready to punch him,

A strong hand suddenly yanked his grip off of you and the creepy bar guest came face to face with Lou. Her look was smouldering, as always, but there was a fire in her eyes.

“Kindly remove your hands from my girlfriend,” she growled. “And remove yourself from my club.”

“Pfft, who are you, lady? The assistant manager?”

“Dan, can you get this man out of here and make sure he never comes back?”

“You got it, boss.”

Within seconds Dan and one of the security guards had the offender out of your sights, no questions asked. No hustle, no fuss. The man could barely stand as he got off the stool, and seemed a lot more intoxicated than he did at first.

You watched as he stumbled out of the bar, out of sight.

“Creeps, eh?” you tried to laugh it off, but the way Lou’s jaw was set and her hands were twitching made you worried.

“Hey,” you said, reaching to hold her arm. “It’s okay.”

“I saw him touch you,” she said lowly, staring you down, “as I was coming over here. I wanted to rip his head off.”

“I’m surprise you didn't,” you joked again. “But it’s fine now. Dan was looking out for me, too.”

She stepped closer to you and tipped your chin up with a forefinger and thumb.

“I don’t like when people touch things that belong to me,” she growled. You shivered at the tone in her voice. “I don’t share.”

You swallowed, recognizing the look in her eye. She was angry, not at you, but jealous and worried about others swarming you when you were hers and she wasn’t there. It set off her dominant side like a rocket, and you felt yourself getting warm at the possessive hold she had on you.

“Wanna go home?” you murmured, hoping to lighten the mood. Lou slowly shook her head and your stomach dropped in anticipation. She had a plan.

Without a word, Lou tugged you off your seat and pulled you away from the bar. She led you up stairs and down a hallway to a small office. Lou’s office.

Yanking you inside, Lou locked the door behind you, muffling the club’s music enough for you to hear the thumping in your ears.

She approached you slowly, and your hands itched at your sides to reach and touch her. But you knew better than to take the lead at moments like this.

“I hadn’t seen you all day,” she begins, standing a hair’s breadth away from you. “And I finally get to look for you, only to find you flirting with a man at my own bar.”

“I wasn’t flirting-,” you began, scoffing. She pressed a finger to your lips.

Don’t argue with me.

Your gaze flickered down and you fell quiet. Her lips tugged into a devilish smirk.

“Now what am I going to do with you?” she said in a hushed voice. “Teach you a lesson?”

You could barely breathe as her hands started nudging you to the edge of her desk, your butt hitting the edge with a soft thud.

“Or maybe I should remind you who you really belong to, hm?”

You bit your lip as you blushed, trying not to smile at Lou’s dominance. You knew she loved playing this game. But you also knew she wasn’t like this all the time. You’d seen her tied up, begging you for an orgasm. You’d seen her covered in sweat, holding you tightly and whispering sweet nothings until you both went over the edge.

Though dominant Lou wasn’t a rare sight, you still had trouble playing along. Well, at least for a little while at first. It never took you too long to fall in tandem with her taking charge.

“Spread your legs.”

The command was said dryly and your head swam. You did as she asked, bracing yourself against the desk and shuffling your feet to stand wider apart, the stretchy material of your pants allowing you a comfortable stance.

Lou watched you carefully, eyes trailing down your form before shrugging off her jacket, revealing toned arms. You licked your lips and her hand found your chin again.

“Eyes up here, babydoll.”

Her hand reached for the zip on your pants and undid them excruciatingly slowly. The music from the bar was still echoing through the door, muffled and hazy. Lou’s scent surrounded you and your eyes fell closed as a hand dipped inside your underwear, tracing lightly along your folds.

You moaned, head tipping back, but Lou tutted and removed her fingers. Her hands wrapped around you and hoisted you up on the desk, yanking off your pants and underwear, leaving you exposed and dripping on her wooden desk.

Fingers tugged off your shirt and unclasped your bra before you could blink and you were suddenly stark naked in front of Lou. Sweat had begun to trickle down your neck and Lou followed it with her eyes as it trailed down between your breasts. You shifted on your seat, uncomfortable with how hot and aroused you felt and wishing she’d do something.

“Such a pretty little thing,” she purred, fingers trailing down your thigh. Your breath hitched, nails digging into the wood.

“Too bad he’ll never get to see you like this, huh?”

Her grin was wide as she got down on her knees and pulled you closer to the edge, teeth attacking the sensitive skin of your thighs. You gasped and couldn’t resist your hands flying down to grasp her bleached locks.

Lou stood up again and pinned your hands above your head, firmly. She pulled off her skinny tie and wrapped it securely around your wrists. A finger trailed down your neck and swirled around a hardened nipple. You mewled and bucked your hips, finding friction against Lou’s clothed thigh and trying to start a rhythm to find relief of some sort.

“No touching, baby,” she said as she stared you down, writhing against her. “You’ll do as I say.”

Iron hands found your thighs and stilled them before she sank back down to the floor. Lips teased along your folds, sucking and nipping at sensitive, swollen flesh. You cried out at the sensations.

“Please,” you murmured softly, not sure if you were allowed to beg.

“Oh, you want relief sweetie? Tsk, too bad. I’m going to have some fun with you first.”

Her mouth continued an onslaught on your legs, sucking bruises on your thighs and the sensitive inside of your knees and coming back up with light kisses that drove you mad. She was still fully clothed, and the rattling of her many bracelets as her hands scratched down your hips made your head spin.

“Now, who do you belong to, baby?” Her breath hit your clit and you lost all ability to speak. “Best answer quickly, otherwise this’ll be very disappointing for you.”

“Ah! Nng, y-you,” you breathed as her tongue swiped up your cunt.

“Say that again?” Fingers found your clit and rubbed, hard.

“Fuck, you, Lou. I-I belong to you,” you whined, hips bucking up to her face.

“Good,” she growled, teeth digging into your thigh. “And don’t you fucking forget it, sweetheart.”

Two fingers slid inside and curled up as her mouth began suckling at your clit. You gasped loudly, trembling as she fucked you. She quickened her fingers and pulled away to come up and hover over your face.

“You know, anyone who works around here could be passing by my door and hearing you moan like a little slut. Maybe even the guests in the club.”

Her blue eyes twinkled down at you. Your mouth dropped open as you felt a third finger enter you.

“They can all hear you beg and scream at how I’m fucking you. Realizing how you’re mine and mine alone. And that no one can ever touch you again, understood?”

You nodded meekly, your mouth dry. Her lips crashed down onto yours as her other hand came to rub your clit at a feverish pace.

“I. Don’t. Share,” she whispered against your lips with sharp thrusts at each word. “Say you’re mine, Y/N.”

“I’m yours,” you said. Her head disappeared down between your legs again, hands and mouth working to make you come undone.

“Fuck! I’m yours, Lou. Only yours,” you babbled. “God, I’m close. Lou, please don’t stop. Please- that feels so good.”

With a firm hold on your clit with her lips and fingers curling up inside you, you came with a loud cry. Your hips stilled for a moment before spasming as jolts of pleasure shot through you. Lou held her position firmly, not moving until you had calmed.

You were covered in sweat and shaking. Lou pulled you up to sit on the desk, undoing the tie and letting you wrap your arms and legs around her.

“I’m yours, I’m yours,” you continued muttering into her neck, breathing heavily.

“Good girl,” she cooed, pulling back to swipe hair out of your face and kiss you sweetly on the forehead. Her hands rubbed up and down your back, strong and warm.

“You’re mine, always. And any scumbag who comes in the way of that will suffer the consequences.”

You giggled, kissing Lou on the mouth firmly. “They wouldn’t know how to touch me like you do.”

Lou gazed at you with warmth in her eyes but a firm grip on your waist. “No they wouldn’t. Don’t forget it, darling.”

“Of course not,” you said. “Though... you might have to remind me once in a while.”

Lou hummed and tugged you off of the desk to hold you properly and kiss you everywhere she could. “That can be arranged.”

You sighed at her warm touch, filling your body with a wonderful, hazy feeling.

“Let’s get you dressed, and let’s go home,” she said, reaching to grab your discarded clothes from the desk and floor. “I’ve had enough of this club for one night.”

She helped you into your clothes, as you were still a bit shaky. As you were shuffling out the door and she locked the office you pulled her against you to kiss her again. Lou moaned into your mouth and you grinned.

“Lou?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I love you.”

She smiled at you, sated and anger long forgotten.

“I love you too.”

A/N: Smuuuuuut. I’m planning to make the next request (submissive Lou x you) a sequel to this one cause I thought both prompts work really well together :3 hope you liked it folks, and thanks for coming ;) and happy pride month <3

#lou x you #lou miller x you #lou miller #lou miller x reader #lou x reader #cate blanchett #oceans 8 #oceans 8 fanfic #oceans8 #wlw #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtqia #smut #merry writes

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phantomphangphucker · 4 years ago

Text

Ectober Day 7: Hero - But It’s Not Funny

*a sequel to Realities Little Joke For Infinity* Highly recommend reading that first but it’s not exactly necessary.

Tony has a bad habit of adopting strays. Particularly the stupidly heroic kind that were too reckless and too selfless for their own good. So of course he wasn’t going to just ignore the random teen that literally saved the universe only to disappear into the future. Even if said teen was somewhat dead and the only hero left in a world and time that seriously needed more.

Tony grins as he finally gets the connection to work, making his face appear on the strange future teens laptop; or whatever tech people used in whatever time this kid’s in. Going a bit wide-eyed and wheezing when the first thing he sees is Phantom -in alien PJ’s, because of course the first thing he sees on the kid who showed up in a t-shirt and jeans to an active warzone is pjs- shrieking and jumping a foot off the ground while holding a full pot off coffee; which predictably sends the contents of said coffee pot flying into the air and splattering all over the teens face and floor.

Phantom looks to the screen slowly, with steaming coffee dripping off his chin, hair and eyelashes, “seriously?”.

At that Tony can’t help but bend over laughing. Straightening up and looking at the coffee pot, “what were you even doing walking around with a full coffee pot?”.

“Well I was going to drink it. But now it’s as empty as my wallet”, Phantom looks down at the pot and grumbles, “ya know what? Fuck it. I’m still gonna drink it”, then pointing his finger around and telekinetically making all the droplets of coffee on him and the floor float back into the pot.

Tony watches, a little disgusted, as the kid practically takes a full swing of the previously spilled coffee, shrugs, and sits down by his own screen; feet clearly pulled up onto the chair seat as well and coffee pot cradled between his knees and chest. Tony eyeballs the coffee pot, “you’re really going to drink that huh?”.

Phantom shrugs, “I know what’s on my floor”, looks down at the carpet and shrugs again while muttering, “a Zone damned biohazard of blood n’ ‘plasm that’s what. Oh!”, eyes widening a little, “and a sock with a questionable stain”, looking back to the screen, “‘s not like I can get sick anyway. I could drink this shit outta a radioactive waste barrel and be fine. Prob’ taste like shit tho”.

Tony wheezes both amused and pained, “please don’t kid”, that... that would definitely make him gag.

Phantom chuckles, “don’t intend to”.

The two sit in silence for a bit. Tony taking in the teens appearance. There’s hand-shaped bruising coating his neck, one of his fingers is clearly broken, and there’s a pencil-sized hole going clean through the other hands palm. Phantom doesn’t even seem to care about the state of his body, considering how relaxed he seems and the PJ’s. Plus, no way would Tony be carrying anything, including a full pot of coffee, with his hands in the state Phantom’s are.

Phantom yawns, Tony noticing that he’s missing more than a handful of teeth, before Phantom asks, “so...why’s the past tin can face-timing my laptop?”.

Tony puts on a smile, so it was a laptop. Neat. “future or not, I’ve adopted you as one of my brats. I remember you saying there wasn’t superheroes in your age”, waving his hand around, “no older generation to guide the newer. Well you're getting the older generation now”, shrugging and smiling more genuinely, “plus underroos won’t stop talking about you”. Understatement of the century, Peter was thrilled to meet another teen hero, and wouldn’t stop going on about what powers he might have or if he even has anyone to support him. The latter Tony cares about more.

Phantom wheezes, “whom the fuck is ‘underroos’?”, shaking his head, “so ya wanna be my mentor of sorts and help me blast my foes from the past?”.

Tony smirks and nods, this kid’s humour sure was something else, “exactly. And you met before, the kid? Peter?”. Sure it had been a few months but he couldn’t have seriously just forgotten?

Phantom tilts his head, “the red and blue teenager?”.

Tony grins, “you got it, kid”, eyeing the teen's hands again, “your hands gonna be fine?”.

Phantom waves one hand around, chugging more coffee, “eh don’t worry your metal ass about it. I heal like crazy”, stretching his feet out and resting them on the desk, “I’m just putting it off a while on my hands ‘cause the broken ribs and missing bits of spine are kinda more important ya know?”.

Tony rubs his temples, “Jesus Christ”, just how much damage can this teen sustain? That kind of injury should kill a person.

Phantom laughs, probably at Tony’s pained expression, “don’t worry about that either! Not like I can die twice! Haha!”.

Tony looks back to the screen at that, feeling a bit more serious, “yeah, Thanos said something like that. That you were dead but alive. And you confirmed it. What did he even mean?”.

Phantom purses his lips, “well I could explain but that also could mess with the time stream and could result in some weird immoral science crap”. Tony doesn’t get a chance to comment on that as Phantom turns his head to the side and whines exaggeratedly at the thin air, opening his mouth as wide as looks physically possible, maybe even past that, “tiiiiiiime dadddddddyyyyyyy, will this break the time stream? Your problem child has a proooooobleeeeeeem”.

Tony wheezes into his hands, “Christ”, and stares dumbfounded as a giant hourglass with purple sand comes out of nowhere and smacks the teen in the face, making Phantom fall out of the chair with a thud.

Phantom groans and begins laughing, righting himself and spinning the hourglass around, pointing the bottom of it at the screen, it reading ‘you’re fine’. Tony is so not reading into that, kid had someone like Strange in his corner. Phantom sits back down, lifting up the hourglass like it’s a weight, “Kay Kay Kay, so I’m a halfa right? Unique creature, that’s what I am. A fucked up little science project gone wrong, or right. Your choice. My folks screwed up in the lab and boom!”, he sticks his limbs out comically before righting himself and catching the coffee pot he effectively tossed in the air, “a whack-a-mole of electricity and a wormhole decided to stop my tiny little heart. Also restarted it too though! So it’s cool”, tilting his head, “wait... didn’t I already explain this?”.

Tony sighs, “sort of. We were in the middle of a war”.

Phantom quirks an eyebrow, “your point? That was, like, the bloody third one I’ve been in”, rolling his hand around, “first there was the High Ghost King, his fifty-thousand odd skeletons, and objects of near-unlimited power. The alternate future where an evil me single-handedly annihilated humanity, talk about traumatising having to fight yourself literally”, tilting his head, “and no clue if the plant guy with his army of mind-controlled people and plants or the sleep guy with his army of Walkers, counted as ‘wars’. And eh!”, snapping his fingers, “there was that guy I stole the Reality Gauntlet from! He took over the planet and turned people into clowns and shit. So that might be big enough to count as a war, even if it was just him versus me. But then the tornado guy caused storms all over the planet too so would that count then too?”, shrugging, “eh whatever. I’m sticking with three. Pariah would have eventually destroyed the Zone, which woulda ended the universe. Dan was actively on his way to ending all life in the universe, probably all death too. And grape guy, Thanos, was about to annihilate half the life in the universe which honestly would just end all life eventually... maybe”.

Tony stares at the kid before wheezing some more and falling backwards, “Christ”, righting himself and his chair, “there is something seriously wrong with your life. Like, seriously wrong”. Apparently the future was a freaking mess and fixing its crap was all on one random teen's shoulders. All because the kid died, which somehow gave him superpowers, and decided to make something good out of that death. Talk about unfair. And messed up. Really messed up. At least Tony had his team and they had each other, “please tell me you have some kind of support?”.

Phantom grins and nods eagerly, “got my guy in the chair techy, he destroyed a sataliget once! My rich activist goth, she sued one of my enemies into oblivion. And a ghost hunter who only sometimes tries to murder me and got a nanobot supersuit running through her veins; she can lowkey kick my ass if I hold back enough to avoid accidentally killing the living”, wagging his finger at the screen and getting really close, “us dead fucks are borderline indestructible immortals, halfas even more so”, leaning back and shrugging, “can still die, or fade it’s called for the spookies, though. Well, most can anyway. Timedaddy’s straight-up immortal. But if they died then, well, then the universe would literally implode from the time-stream collapsing”, and makes a little explosion sound and motion with his hands. Oh fuck, the kid was really just a damn kid. And from the sounds of it, his entire support was three teenagers. Ah Hell. Oh and some time being, ghost?, that just left him to his own devices.

Tony shakes his head, “you know what? That doesn’t actually make me feel any better”.

Phantom shrugs, drinks, swishes the coffee around, “don’t know what to tell you, man, my entire existence is pretty fucked up. My archenemy is my uncle, wants to adopt me, and gave me his inheritance. My girlfriend has a solid murder boner for me. My parents get giddy at the idea of dissecting me and are actually worse about that the odd time they’ve been successful. The kids’ at school think I’m their personal punching bag. The government would love to shoot me full of missiles and bombs. Pretty sure my sis is just using me for her research paper on ghost psychology or whatever. And my friendships are pretty much based on the three of us just being really weird”.

Tony groans, this kid probably needed more help and support that literally any other teen or hero. “ClockPops is great though. We play chess”,

Tony blinks, mentally pausing, “you... play chess? Seriously?”, this kid seemed to have more issues sitting still than Peter did. Tony finds it hard to believe he can sit through even half a game of chess.

Phantom nods and grins, “yup. Switched the pieces out for shot-glasses once, it was great. One of my teachers is cool too. He crossdressed and pretended to be his own sister to get me to try harder on a test; it worked better than it had any right to”.

Tony blinks and breathes, “your life”, shaking his head because it sounded like the future was just pure insanity, “well now I’m here and while I’m a bit reckless and a recovering alcoholic, I’m not insane”.

Phantom chuckles, “I’ll probably prove to be a bit much for you then. I’d have to be stupid to not think I’m not at least marginally nuts. Nowhere near frootloopy but eh”.

Tony sighs, being self-aware enough -or just not giving enough of a damn- to recognise that was both impressive and depressing. Impressively depressing. “A few of us Avengers are trained doctors and psychologists outside of being experienced heroes. So kid? You’ve got all of us. At least for verbal advice. Strange already went and basically confirmed that paying you a visit wasn’t a smart idea”.

Phantom snorts and rolls his eyes, sipping a bit more before staring down the pot at the small amount left. Speaking into the pot, “oh yeah, I can just imagine all the time problems that could cause. I’m surprised this is okay”.

Tony can’t help chuckling at the slightly silly image, though he’s not sure why the kid doesn’t just drink what’s left, savouring it maybe? “Same. Strange looked at me like he was questioning my sanity. He’s probably going to pester you about the Clock guy you keep mentioning”, grumbling to the side, “I just hope Loki will keep his trickster mitts off you”. Because fuck, they’d probably get on like fire and more fire. Which yeah, slightly horrifying mental image. Probably inevitable though. Loki was already impressed, amused, and interested by Phantom and literally everything the teen did after showing up. Seriously though, who’s first thought when fighting giant spaceships with mouths and other horrifying shit, is to turn it into bouncy balls and worms??? And a smoothie for a reward? For effectively saving the universe? Kid was a trickster, dabbled in death kind of literally, and ‘gave precisely zero fucks’. Loki would have a field day and probably be a horrid influence. Though thinking of it, Phantom might be a bad influence on Loki. Loki generally had reasons for anything beyond mild messing with people. Phantom seemed more likely to just go buck wild purely because he could. Even if he seemingly had a heart of gold and more self-sacrificial bones in his body than actual bones. Seemed like his entire world/time belittled and beat the shit out of him, and yet he gladly got dissected and lost chunks of his freaking spine for them. At least he had the power to back it up.

Tony quirks an eyebrow at mist, or something, leaving the kid’s mouth before Phantom goes wide-eyed and Tony jerks as an actual literal swear-on-every-ironsuit-and-the-entire-tower cartoonish rocket smashes apart what he’s assuming is-was a window; sending glass flying everywhere... and Phantom flying off-screen, the coffee pot going up in the air and sounding like it smashed apart on the ground.

Tony can practically hear the glare in Phantom’s voice, “hey! You spilled my damn coffee!”, while a robot blasts into the room, breaking more glass and bits of wood from the looks of it.

The robot pauses, seems to frown apologetically before shrugging, “apologies whelp, but it is no matter! You won’t need such things after I skin you!“. Tony chokes and gags a little at that. “Also-”, pointing to where Phantom probably is, “-that was practically empty”. Tony then stares as Phantom comes back in screen -looking all black and white- only for the robot to shoot a missile at him immediately, Phantom just sort of shrugs and lets the missile hit him in the face. This kid seriously really didn’t give a damn about his own well being.

And not even seconds later Peter walks in out of the blue, face lighting up as he notices the screen and probably Phantom’s very noticeable self on it, and dashes over. Obviously noticing Phantom’s current situation, “oh Phantom! Kick his butt!”.

Phantom does a silly thumbs up at the screen and immediately gets stabbed in the shoulder. Tony watches in slight disbelief at the kid looking at the knife, saying, “oh! You got a new knife! Shit is the handle engraved?!?”. And the robot actually stops and replies with a wide grin, “it was a valentines gift from Ember! Impressive right?”.

Tony and Peter both blink at the fight effectively stopping as Phantom pulls out the knife and looks it over, seeming impressed, “actually yeah”, pointing almost aggressively at the robot, “you got her something too right? You’re fucking horrible for that man”.

The robot rolls Its eyes, how metal is moving that organically Tony has no clue. “Of course whelp, those drum sticks you can sing into”. Phantom facepalms and Peter actually shakes his head in disappointment. Though Tony agrees, that was awful. But who talks with their enemy -who wants to skin them for peat's sake!- about presents?

Phantom makes a tsk tsk sound, “you dumbass, she got you a sick-ass knife and you got her a knick-knack? Seriously?”, Phantom walks off-screen, the two watching as what they’re assuming is cash flys over to the robot and Phantom returns on screen, “go by some flowers to make up for that crappy present. And for the love of everything, don’t get roses”, waving his hand around, “that’s so cliche. Go with tulips and forget-me-nots”.

The robot inspects the cash before flying off-screen, presumably back out through the window It destroyed, “I will have your pelt next time, whelp!”.

Phantom chuckles, shouting back, “sure you will, Skulkie! Ghost Zones greatest hunter”. Tony and Peter can feel the sarcasm in that. “Also! No you don’t have to ask! An engraved knife would be a wicked Christmas Truce present!”. Tony sighs when a ball or something slams into Phantom’s stomach and sends him flying off-screen.

Peter leaning towards the camera, “woah! You okay?”.

Phantom’s laughter echoes horribly, “right as rain! Mind you, it’s not actually raining”, righting himself and pulling himself up into the previously knocked over chair, “don't mind Skulker, he’s a poacher and I’m rare. Practically one of a kind actually. A poachers dream prize. His girlfriend has a mind-controlling guitar and occasionally attempts at world domination”. A ghost-shaped guitar floats on-screen, Phantom grabbing it, “she gives awesome presents though”, and gives the guitar a good couple strums.

Peter’s eyes go wide, “you can play the guitar?!?”, tilting his head and asking what is in Tony’s opinion a more important question, “wait, your enemies buy you presents?”, tilting his head back, “oh man that’s awesome”. Tony just shakes his head with a smile, teenagers.

Phantom grins and strums some more before the guitar floats off-screen, “all my enemies do”, shrugging, “for the Christmas Truce and my death-day anyway. But that’s normal. A ghost culture thing. Even the prison warden guy, whose got special torture weapons set aside just for little ol’ me, buys me some kind of present. Heck! Even the eyeballs do! And they’ve repeatedly tried to assassinate me”.

Tony blinks, “kid, that makes no sense. But I’m glad they’re at least occasionally nice to you”. Hell knows Phantom needs someone to be nice to him.

Peter tilts his head, “what even is a ‘death-day’? Sounds dark”.

“Oh nothing special, just the day I died. Like a birthday! But for death! A real dead-ringer of a holiday!”, and laughs loudly before rolling his eyes at Tony, waving his hand around, “eh, I’m kinda their king so be kinda a dick move to not give me gifts on literally the two biggest holidays”.

Peter practically shrieks, “WHAT! You’re a king! Oh that is so cool”. Tony blinks, “you did mention something about being the guardian of death and Earth”.

Phantom laughs some more and finger-guns while winking at Peter, “yup! Very important, much power”, and grins stupidly before pointing to the air above his head; a green floating crown bursting to ‘life’ with green mist or something wafting off, followed by a black cape with a flaming white collar and large flaming green skulls pinning it closed with a shadowy chain.

Peter cheers immediately, then adding, “Loki would love this!”. Tony points at him, “no. I want to keep that one as far away as possible for as long as possible”.

Phantom snickers, “I have chronic bad luck, so don’t count on that working out for you. Spidey probably has better tastes than you though, Ironass”.

Tony shakes his head with a smile, “you like making up names for people huh?”.

Phantom grins meanly, “it pisses people off. Which makes them easier to hit”, and holds up a fist, smacking a hand on his bicep.

Tony can’t help but laugh at that, “you got a point kid!”, though that was stupid reckless, and effectively confirmed him being tricky. One of Tony’s tech toys starts beeping so she moves to check it out. Peter taking his place in the chair. Glancing back at Tony before looking back to the screen, “hey I’ve got a question, teen to teen. What’s being a hero to you? Why do you do it? It just... it seems like your only suffering for it. Waaaaay more than normal. And not making stuff much better for it”.

Phantom hums, spinning around in the chair, “a hero's not afraid to give their life, and anything worth doing is worth getting hurt for. I do it so others will not suffer. That is all. It doesn’t matter if things change or not. If there’s still unnecessary violence and pain, then it is still a hero's place to grab their fists around it and pulverise it to Hell and back. So long as cruelty exists I will be there to stand against it. With a smile on my face and a laugh in my heart and Core. Because there is no greater joy, no greater choice, no greater path, than self-sacrifice for the sake of another. Regardless who they are, what they are. Good or bad. Young or old. And whether they support you, or not”, Phantom nods, puts his hands behind his head, cape bunching up, and looks to the side, “and maybe someday things will change. I doubt it, but who knows. But if things do, if that kind of future is on the horizon, then I think I’ll rest. Until then, I’ll be here. Doing what I do and suffering immeasurably for it. Until the world doesn’t need ‘heroes’ anymore. Till it doesn’t need me anymore”, looking back at the screen, Tony having walked back over slowly though the kid doesn’t pay him any mind, “so I guess, being a hero to me is being the embodiment of a brighter future. To absorb the suffering of the world”, sticking a finger up, “like a paper towel!”. Tony chokes at that a little; though the kids' sudden seriousness and introspection was just as startling as last time.

Tony shakes his head, “you make it sound like you’re immortal, kid. Also, that’s what a team’s for, to help share the load. The burden. Sure your ideals are noble and probably needed, but you can’t help anyone if you destroy yourself”.

Phantom smiles but something about it seems almost... sad. “In a way, I am. A ghost can not die and a human can not fade. A ghost ceases to exist when they fade and a human when they die. Yet I can do neither. So that raises the question, what is ‘death’ for a halfa? An idea? An ideal? A reality? Or just pointless conjecture. And besides, for a ghost to fade they must satiate their Obsession. Be satisfied with the fulfilment of their existence”, pointing to his chest, “and my Obsession? Protection. To protect is a physical and mental need for me. And it will never be satisfied till there’s nothing left needing protection. And it is thus that I will always be here”, shrugging and chuckling, “likely anyway”.

Tony blinks, that... that changed a lot actually. It also explained a lot. This wasn’t some kid playing hero, or even an experienced hero just doing what’s right and their job. This wasn’t someone stuck in a bad way and doing what needed to be done purely because no one else could. This wasn’t someone trying to do good to make up for their sorted past. This was someone wise beyond their years, with little to no regard for themselves, and a living -half-living- embodiment of the word ‘hero’. Watching the teen turn his head at someone -likely his mom- shouting that supper was ready. There was a rocket-powered fistfight minutes ago and his parents’ didn’t even check on him. Christ that was depressing. But it also made him want to help this kid out all the more.

Phantom turns back to the screen, “whelp that’s my queue then I guess. And let me guess? This-” gesturing at the screen, “-is gonna become a thing? Which totally cool, little warning next time. And keep this mind, walking the straight and narrow takes more time than I got. I will steal, mildly harm, trick, and lie, as I see fit”.

Tony rolls his eyes, he’d expect no different from a kid basically left up to their own devices, “we’re all guilty of that, kid”. Phantom just laughs as the screen goes dark.

Tony leans back, well fuck, he wasn’t prepared for the kid to have shit that bad. And the King situation definitely threw him through a loop. He’ll have to talk to Thor -not Loki, dear God not Loki- about that. Being a hero and a king.

Regardless, they’re gonna help the weird spooky future kid out. And Peter absolutely liked Phantom, which hopefully wouldn’t be a bad thing. Hopefully. (And it wasn’t, if you ignored Peter carrying out more than a few pranks on Phantom’s behalf).

End.

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