#I will bark at you so help me if you take this beautiful scrawny man and make him look like a wrestler

[iwannascreameurekaa]

if I see a scrawny character drawn with six pack abs and huge muscles one more time I will haunt you all for the rest of your lives

[dollslayer]

Botanical Interest

Soft!Mob!Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: You’re a florist working the wedding of Brooklyn’s most respected mob boss when you catch the eye of his best man.

W/C: 1557

Warnings: Allusions to violence, swearing, copious amounts of blushing

A/N: My second ever fic! I wrote this as an entry to @stargazingfangirl18 ‘s Soft Dark 5k Challenge (congrats!) using dialogue prompt 9 (bolded) with a Mob!AU. No smut, just fluff. While I’m a sucker for Soft!Dark I thought I’d keep it light and fluffy! Might enter a second one with some darker themes.

I’m brand new to writing and the fandom so if you want you can check out my first fic (also a Mob!AU!) and please reach out with any and all comments or thoughts! I’m eager to know!! Cheers!

Botanical Interest Masterlist I Main Masterlist

_______________________

The first time you saw him you didn’t actually see him because you ran square into him while you were looking the other way. Stubbing your nose right into his chest and nearly spilling the contents of the box you were holding.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going and I’ve got so much to do so I’ve been running around and I just didn’t see you I’m-“

“Forgiven. You’re forgiven, sweetheart” a smoky voice with confidence and amusement informed you.

You loved being a florist but you were short handed for this wedding and needed to get a move on. You wouldn’t have taken the job but the infamous Bucky Barnes, King of Brooklyn himself was getting married. It would be great exposure for you but when a man like him asks something of you you don’t exactly have a choice. In all the chaos of it you didn’t watch your step.

Cheeks still burning with embarrassment, your eyes met those of Barnes’ right hand man, Steve Rogers. Now you weren’t just embarrassed you were nervous.

Taking a step back and shuffling the box in your hands you sent him a sheepish smile. “Right, well, sorry again. I’ve really got a lot to do before the ceremony, so...” trailing off you started to walk away. Just distract yourself with the work and try not to worry whether you’d just offended a member of the mob.

—————————————

Steve nodded and gave you a small smile, letting you return to the task at hand. There was some issue with the venue and the owners were being stubborn but the wedding planner was busy putting out a different fire. So, being the best man that he was, he decided to come down and use his ‘persuasive skills’.

He almost forgot what he was there for as he watched you walk away. Sure, you looked a little crazed in your work but you were cute. Frazzled but determined as you tinkered with the centerpieces, he let himself be distracted for a moment.

Sighing as his phone buzzed asking for an update on the venue, he shook his head. With a scowl he straightened his posture and clenched his fists as he set off in search of the property manager. Poor bastard.

—————————

30 minutes, 2 punches, and one very credible threat later Steve was leaving the manager's office. He held the door and looked at the man one last time, “And I think I’ll stay to make sure you don’t get any ideas about going back on the agreement.”

At least that was his excuse for sticking around. He still had some time before he needed to get changed so he ambled around until he spotted you across the large room. Planting himself against the wall, a tiny smile on his face as he watched you place each stem with care.

You still looked a little pressed but he could tell you were really enjoying what you were doing. He liked to see a woman hard at work and good at what she does. He liked seeing you so flustered earlier when you ran into him. The heat flooding to your face told him you knew exactly who he was. Good.

Bending to reach a stray peony he took a moment to admire your body. He had to wonder if the blush on your face earlier would be the same one you’d have when he’d whisper dirty things into your ear.

Letting his imagination wander a little bit he didn’t realize you’d gone outside. Maybe it was a good time for Steve to step out and have a smoke.

———————————

You felt some relief as you saw him take off in another direction and felt relief. Finally letting yourself relax a bit you started on the arch. You heard yelling from down the hall but decided to ignore it, you didn’t have time to worry about it.

Some time later you were still working on the arch when you noticed something in the corner of your eye. Taking a moment to look up you saw that it was Steve. What was he doing? Whatever. He said he forgave you just focus on the arch. You worked the best you could to not let his presence bother you.

Finally done with the arch, you needed to go back to the van for more supplies and finishing touches. Letting yourself forget about your unexpected company you climbed into the back of the van and hauled out some boxes.

“You need help with that, sweetheart?” He offered.

You hadn’t expected him out here and let out a shriek. Jesus Christ is he following me now? Steve casually walked over to you with a quirk in his brow waiting for an answer.

“I- Uh, no. No, I’m good. I’m great, actually. My assistant is somewhere around so I don’t need help so you can just, uh, go, I guess. Thanks though.” How you managed to get the entire sentence out only stumbling slightly in your words was beyond you.

“Alright. Well if you need some muscle or a strong set of hands... I’ll be around for a while.” He responded while sporting what you were sure was his signature grin.

You watched him make his way back inside and let out the breath you definitely knew you were holding. Just finish the flowers and get out. You can do this.

—————————

The reception was winding down and you waited for the last guests to leave before you started disassembling things. Waiting out back with the van and your assistant you thought back to your awkward interactions with Steve.

You knew he was dangerous, or at least what he did was dangerous. He didn’t say one threatening word to you and he still had your palms sweating. Hopefully the wedding party would be long gone and you wouldn’t have to see him again.

The lights were starting to come up and you put yourself to task but before you did you took a moment to really admire the arch. Hours of work, hundreds of peonies and ranunculus and so much greenery all put together in one beautiful piece. You couldn’t help but snag a picture.

“It really is gorgeous. Not as gorgeous as you though.” That voice again, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Jesus Christ!” Startled for the second time by him that night your anger got the better of you. “What’s your deal huh? Why are you watching me? Am I on some list now?”

He barked out a laugh in response. “I swear I didn’t mean to start watching you, it just sort of... happened” He admittedly almost sheepishly. “You’re cute when you’re focused, you’re also cute when you’re mad.”

You could only blink at him. What do you even say to that? ‘Thanks, I find you terrifying’? “Um, thanks, I guess.” Good enough.

He held his hand out to you. “Steve Rogers.” You held your hand out to shake when he took it and kissed it instead. You stated your name as calm as you could. When he released your hand you noticed some bruises on his knuckles. Lest you forget who he is.

He seemed to notice you caught that detail. “Don’t worry. I don’t hurt anyone who don’t deserve it, certainly could never hurt a pretty face like yours.” You blushed at the compliment and turned your head. 

“I… should probably get back to the flowers. Don’t wanna be here all night.” You shifted your attention to the arch and began the process of dismantling it. 

“I wouldn’t mind it. Here, Doll”. He noticed you searching around for your tools and handed them to you. “Let me help you, these things look heavy”. You really shouldn’t. A piece of you kept placing this warning around him but every time he opened his mouth he was so sweet. How could you say no?

____________________________

So that��s how the big scary mobster found himself surrounded by flowers and skipping out on the after party. He asked you about yourself, how you got into floristry, he listened to you geek out about flowers. You asked him about himself and he did his best to answer while trying not to scare you off. Something about how confident you were in your work but how shy you got reeled him in. He didn’t care who saw him grinning like an idiot at you. 

As he helped you load the last of your things and close the back doors of your van he leaned against it. “So, the Brooklyn Botanic Garden is just around the corner from my place but I’ve never been. Think a professional like you could spare some time for an uninformed punk like myself?” 

______________________________

Was he asking you out? You couldn’t fight the growing smile on your face. You know what he does is… less than ideal but talking to him you really felt good chemistry between the two of you. He was funny and genuine and those moments where he was a little shy telling you about growing up as a scrawny kid had you feeling like you were peeking in on a side of him that you’d never expect. You looked up at him still smiling.

“Oh what the hell? When are you free?”

[moonculus]

terrible things ~ wilbur x reader

angst

warnings: death, weapons, kissing (all non-descriptive)

pronouns: implied she/her

notes: inspired by the song, terrible things by mayday parade. i apologize in advance <3

☾　‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙　☽

that’s when i met your father, the boy of my dreams. the most beautiful man that i’d ever seen.

“mommy?”

you looked away from your coffee cup to meet your child’s bright eyes staring back at you.

“yes, honey?” you asked, smiling softly.

“what happened to my father?”

immediately, you felt your heart tighten. you had put off talking about your husband for as long as you possibly could. phil, techno, even tommy. everyone who cared for you worried about you. you had thrown yourself into caring for your child, barely even giving yourself time to feel.

“when you’re older, baby,” you tilted your head sympathetically.

the daughter clung to your leg, pouting up at you with puppy eyes. the same her father would make whenever he wanted a hug or kiss from you. you were never the disciplinarian. to be honest, neither of you were. you hoisted your daughter onto your lap, preparing yourself emotionally.

“well, since i was your age, i was convinced i would be a leader. no one could ever tell me i needed a husband, i thought boys were frivolous. while my friends would talk about crushes and cooties, i would talk about sword skills and the inner workings of our country. i never thought i’d need anyone. until i met your father…”

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

you swung your wooden makeshift sword at a tree, grunting as it was stuck in the bark. you pulled at the handle, kicked at the stump, and eventually plopped down in the grass beside it, frustratedly.

“need some help?” a soft voice asked you.

a small boy your age crooked glasses and a yellow sweater he seemed to be quickly outgrowing.

“no. i can do it myself,” you huffed, brushing yourself off and attempting to pull the sword out again.

“my dad says it’s always best to accept help, even if you think you don’t deserve it.”

“my dad used to say if you can’t do things on your own, you shouldn’t do them at all.”

“your dad’s wrong,” the boy shrugged, leaning against the tree.

“do you mind?”

“i’m wilbur,” he grinned, sticking his hand out for you.

“i’m tired of this,” you folded your arms against your chest.

“well, tired of this. do you want to be friends?”

“my dad said friends make you weak,” you muttered, shifting from foot to foot.

“your dad’s wrong,” he repeated, smiling. “anyways. sometimes, everyone needs a knight in shining armor.”

with a swift hit to the handle in exactly the right place, the sword fell to the grass. your chest rose and fell as you glared at the weapon.

“thank you,” you mumbled.

“i’ll take a friendship as an apology.”

you rolled your eyes at him, a smile threatening to cross your face.

“fine.”

wilbur’s face lit up with a toothy smile.

“but,” you began, pointing a finger at him. “only because i owe you.”

“oh, of course,” he nodded, stifling a grin.

“y/n. my name. i’m y/n.”

“y/n,” he repeated. “i like it. i’ll see you around, y/n.”

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

“and then what happened?”

your curious daughter that had been squirming in your lap, now settled, relaxing in your arms.

“well, a few years passed, and we became practically attached at the hip. inseparable…”

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

i can tell by your eyes that you’re in love with me

“stay together- be safe!” phil called after the two of you, as if you would’ve gladly left the other alone.

“we will!” you chorused, already bolting away.

the once short and underdeveloped boy had grown into a lanky, somewhat scrawny teenager. stretch marks dotted his knees from an unexpected growth spurt at twelve. he had long since ditched his glasses, claiming that he was too mature for his crooked lenses. suspiciously, he had adopted the spectacles back once he had overheard a conversation between niki and yourself in which you told her you thought boys with glasses were cute.

the two of you flopped onto your backs at the same willow tree you had first met. it had become a memorial of the start of your friendship, a place you visited often.

clouds drifted through the sky, the both of you pointing out ones that looked like ducks and cats.

“d’ya ever think about your future?” wilbur asked you out of the blue.

“yeah. i’m gonna be a ruler. you can be one of my royal consorts,” you shrugged.

“what’s a consort?”

“i dunno, i heard my mom use it once. i suppose it’s like an advisor of some kind. you’re my second in command!”

“well, i’m fine being your second. as long as you don’t let it go to your head,” he nudged you, smiling.

you rolled your head to the side, meeting gazes with wil. his eyes searched your face, and for a second you were confused. you had barely even acknowledged the thought of crushes- you didn’t know what they felt like. later on, you could assume it felt a little like this.

the two of you leaned in, connecting your lips gently. neither of you had any clue what you were doing, it was both of your first kisses. as soon as it began, you pulled away. you didn’t miss the blush creeping into wilbur’s cheeks, just as he didn’t miss the smile you tried to hide behind your hand.

“i- crap. i li-“ wil stammered.

“i know.”

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

“ew, cooties!”

“you’re right, cooties. that’s why you never kiss boys,” you pointed at your daughter.

“anyways, we loved each other. we had since the day we met, just were too young to know it…”

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

im asking you, please. you know that i love you, will you marry me?

“gods, you look beautiful, honey,” niki cooed as she placed flowers behind your ears.

“you think so?”

“i know so! wil is going to be speechless.”

“we haven’t been out for weeks, with all of the battle preparations,” you sighed, placing your face in your hand.

“don’t remind me. there you are, perfect!” niki smiled, squeezing your shoulders gently.

“thank you so much, i owe you.”

“oh, hush. you owe me nothing,” she dismissed. “now, hurry! he’s waiting.”

there was a calm breeze as you walked to your willow tree. the air smelled floral and familiar, like it was curated just for you. you heard the soft strum of a guitar, and your steps quickened.

a grin plastered itself across your face as you saw your love, surrounded by blue petals and lanterns, plucking the strings of his instrument. it was a scene out of a movie as you took a seat in front of him. he smiled at you softly, not speaking until the melody finished.

“i love you,” he began, clasping his hands around your own. “i have loved you since i’ve known you. you are my muse, my meaning. without you, i’d perish beyond means. i promise i’ll care for you when you’re sick, when you take up half of the bed, when you insist on midnight walks- i’ll take it all.”

by now, tears of happiness were falling down your face, you practically already nodding.

“y/n y/l/n,” he started, pulling out a dark ring.

you interrupted him, throwing your arms around his neck and all but tackling him to the ground.

“will- you- marry- me-“ he laughed in between kisses. “i’ll take that as a yes.”

“yes, yes. of course it’s a yes, you idiot. i love you,” you smiled.

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

“but if you lived happily ever after, where’s dad?”

again, your heart felt pained. your eyes filled with tears as you squeezed your daughter’s hand.

“sometimes, it was just never meant to be…”

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

please don’t be sad now, i really believe, you were the greatest thing that ever happened to me.

you were married as soon as possible, only your close friends and family invited to the wedding at the willow tree. a few months later, you were expecting. once you told wilbur, he was ecstatic. your family was growing. alas, the past few weeks had been strained. wil had grown further apart from you, feeling as if he were worlds away while he laid next to you. it all became clear, all the pieces clicking once the three of you stood in the final control room.

“wil, please. you’re going to have a child- you have me! you can’t do this, think of everyone,” you pleaded as phil held your arm.

“i’m sorry, my love. truly. i wish there were another way. i will never stop loving you. never,” he smiled sadly, his fingers dancing across the button that would annihilate your entire nation.

“it was never meant to be.”

phil held you close as you sobbed, his shouts at his son drowned out by the sounds of explosions. once the dust settled, you saw your boy, the same one who had always had the brightest eyes, dull and lifeless as he stared at you.

“i love you,” he mouthed as he nodded at phil.

you didn’t quite understand what was happening, not until it happened. your hand flew to your mouth to muffle your screams as the man’s blade plunged itself into it’s target. you scrambled to your lover, his soul already left his body. you cradled him in your arms as long as you could before his father had to carry you away from him.

from that day forward, you pledged to throw everything you could into daughter- the legacy of your late husband. you swore you’d never leave her.

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

don’t let it get you, i can’t bare to see the same happen to you.

“he’s gone?” she breathed out, tears falling down her little face.

“yes,” you sniffled, failing to hold back your own tears. “yes, he’s gone. but he loved us very much, even if he never got to meet you.”

your daughter clung to your shirt, not fully understanding everything. you would explain to her later more in depth, when she was old enough to understand.

“you were his unfinished symphony. his little melody,” you smiled down at her.

melody would learn to understand her father through stories from you, her uncles, and her grandfather. the two of you continued to visit his final resting place- the willow tree you had buried him at. for a while, it had only reminded you of misery, memories you’d never get to relive. but, ever since melody had been born, the tree was rejuvenated. it even seemed to sway as if it were listening when you spoke.

your wilbur, his love, and your baby, melody.

your symphony.

☾　‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙　☽

[let-the-dream-begin]

A Family of Our Own: Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Read on AO3

May, 1754

Claire was in her garden with Maggie. Brianna and Kitty were supposed to be helping as well, but they were a bit preoccupied chasing chickens and making the dogs bark their heads off.

“I don’t want to hear it if either of you get bitten!” Claire called over her shoulder.

“We won’t, Mummy!” Brianna said, exasperated.

Claire turned back to face Maggie again, and the girl shook her head.

“Ye canna stop them,” she said. “No’ until it’s too late.”

“You’re too right.”

Claire was just about to demonstrate something for Maggie when the sound of a horse’s hooves caught her ear.

“Girls! Get the dogs inside!” They obeyed, turning it into another game of sorts to corral the beasts. She didn’t want the dogs spooking the horse and throwing whoever the rider was to the ground. It was midday, and they weren’t expecting any visitors. Claire squinted down the road, wiping her hands free of dirt on her apron, her throat clenching on instinct at the sight of a flash of red. Her nerves settled however, when she remembered.

Once a quarter.

Apparently it was time for Jamie’s first visit from Lord John Grey.

“Who is it, then?” Jenny appeared on the porch, flanked by the girls, including Janet this time, all having realized that getting the dogs inside could only mean a visitor on horseback.

“It’s Lord Grey,” Claire said, returning to Maggie’s side.

“Lord ha’ mercy,” Jenny breathed. “Inside, girls. Now.”

“He won’t hurt anybody,” Claire said, furrowing her brow. “There’s no need to worry. Jamie trusts him.”

“That makes one of us,” Jenny said, her jaw hard, and her eyes fierce. “Inside,” she said again, and Maggie trudged past Claire to obey her mother.

“Wait, Brianna,” Claire called, stopping her from joining the throng.

“Are ye mad, sister?”

“I want her to meet him,” Claire said lightly. “It’s about time she meets a respectable Englishman,” she reasoned, with no little disdain directed at the assortments of horrible Englishmen they’d been harassed by over the years. “Besides, he’s a friend of her father.”

“Respectable and English dinna belong in the same sentence,” Jenny grumbled, ushering the girls inside.

“Should I take offense to that?” Claire said testily, putting one hand on her hip and the other on Brianna’s shoulder.

“I’ll let ye know in a bit.” She gestured with her chin, and Claire turned around to see the horse crossing the threshold of the archway. She was surprised by his appearance; she didn’t know why. Perhaps it was because he bore little to no resemblance to the scrawny young lad from all those years ago. His face was kind and gentle; his eyes held both quiet mirth and an impenetrable sadness. He was slender but still finely muscled, the makings of a good soldier.

“Good day, Madame,” he said, slowing his horse to a stop. “Is this Broch Tuarach?”

“That it is,” Claire answered.

The man paused for a moment, blinking back something that was seemingly shock, his lips parting silently, then closing. “Well,” he said, awed. “I do believe I’m in the presence of the Englishwoman I’ve heard so very much about.”

He dismounted, keeping hold on the reins. He bowed lowly, bringing his tricorn hat to his chest, maintaining eye contact all the while. “Lord John Grey,” he said. “I am entirely at your service, Ma’am.”

“Claire Fraser,” she answered, curtsying, keeping one hand on Brianna’s shoulder. “And I do believe it is I who is at your service, my Lord. You’re the reason I’m no longer a widow, after all.”

He smiled, almost seeming uncomfortable as he put his hat back in place. “Yes, well, it was the least I could do,” he said. “And this is?”

“Brianna Fraser,” Claire said proudly, nudging the girl a bit so that she’d curtsy. “My daughter. Jamie’s daughter.”

“My God,” John breathed, his eyes wide with wonder. “No wonder she’s his spitting image. He never mentioned…”

“He never knew,” Claire said sadly. “I wasn’t showing until after Culloden. She was quite the surprise.” Claire gripped both of Brianna’s shoulders.

“Indeed,” John said. “Well, Mistress Fraser, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Brianna answered, her normally hybrid speech entirely posh, her nose stuck in the air. Claire briefly contemplated that perhaps her daughter was mocking John’s Englishness, but she quickly dismissed the thought.

“She doesn’t have the burr, then?” John said, amused.

“She has whatever she wants in the moment,” Claire said with a chuckle. “She’s quite the impressionist. Isn’t that right, darling?”

“Indeed, Mother,” she said in the same tone, staring John down, or up, rather.

Both of the adults chuckled, perhaps a bit uncomfortably.

“This is one of Da’s dearest friends, Brianna,” Claire said cheerily, squeezing her shoulders and looking down at her. “He’s the reason that he came home to us. I’d like it if we were all friends. Wouldn’t you?”

“I should indeed love to make the acquaintance of one of the King’s finest,” Brianna said rather obnoxiously, drawling the vowels like a veritable fop. “Even if he’s a bloody Redcoat,” she added, not skipping a beat, her accent remaining perfect.

“Brianna — !”

“John!”

Before Claire could scold her daughter’s behavior, Jamie came running from the side of the house, trailed closely by Rabbie, likely along to take care of John’s horse. John smiled uncomfortably at Claire before turning to greet Jamie as he quickly approached. Claire was rather shameless in how she admired her husband, glistening as he was with sweat from a long day in the fields, curls damp and wild, shirt slightly stained at the collar and clinging to him despite its loose fitting, exposing the overworked muscles beneath. She had to remind herself there was company, including that of their small daughter.

Dragging her eyes off of her husband’s beautifully made body, she immediately noticed she was not the only one aware of said beauty.

John immediately changed when Jamie came into view, in ways that Claire could not exactly put her finger on. He seemed lighter, as if being fed for the first time after months of starvation.

Christ...this isn’t attraction.

This man is in love with my husband.

“Christ, man, it’s good to see ye,” Jamie said enthusiastically, shaking John’s hand with fervor. “Ye’ve met her then? Ye met my wife? And my child?”

Any insecurity that had just seized Claire’s heart upon her realization melted away, and she strode contentedly to meet Jamie, pulling Brianna along by the hand. She smiled, standing at Jamie’s side and settling herself into him, warming to her core as Jamie draped an arm over her shoulder. She reveled in the smell of him; dirt, manure, sweat, and Jamie, his general masculinity.

“Yes, I’ve had the pleasure,” John said, smiling more genuinely at Claire. “Beautiful, both of them.”

“Thank ye, a charaid.” Jamie was warm against her, flushing with pride. “Can ye imagine? I had a bairn all those years and I hadnae a single clue.”

“I can’t imagine,” John said. “You must have been overjoyed.”

“Aye.” Jamie looked down at me, catching my eye sweetly, then winked down at Brianna. “She is...they both are my greatest joys.”

“It does my heart good to see you so happy, Jamie,” John’s voice became soft and light, his eyes glistening. “To have seen you through such pain, then to see you like this…” He stopped himself, seemingly overcome. Claire threaded her arm around Jamie, grasping at his side. “It’s overwhelming.”

“It is,” Jamie agreed. “There are still days I canna believe it’s true. I’m overwhelmed near every day at my luck. And it’s because of you, John. You are the reason I’ve got them back.”

He grasped John’s hand, tightly. Claire felt herself go flush, and she tightened her grip on Jamie’s side despite herself.

“I’d do it again and again, Jamie, no matter the risk.”

Their hands remained clasped together, and they maintained eye contact, and Claire suddenly felt like an unwelcome voyeur to something she did not fully understand.

He told me nothing happened. He told me nothing happened. He—

“Mummy,” Brianna piped, still not dropping her put-on airs. “I would quite enjoy something to eat.”

“Christ, a nighean, why’re ye speaking like yer mother?” Jamie wrinkled his nose down at Brianna, finally releasing John’s hand.

Brianna shot a look at John, her nostrils flared. “I’m hungry.”

“Alright, lovie. Go inside and ask Mary MacNab for something from the kitchen. We’ll be in.”

Claire briefly brushed a few curls away from Brianna’s face before the girl scampered inside, apparently all too eager to get away.

“I’m sorry…” Claire said once Brianna was inside. “She’s not normally so rude.”

“She was rude?” Jamie furrowed his brow.

“Before you got here, she called him a bloody Redcoat.”

Jamie snorted, then smiled crookedly at John. “Well, she isna wrong.”

Claire pinched Jamie’s side, causing him to jerk a bit.

“She also was most certainly mocking his speech,” Claire said. “She does that sometimes, impersonates the Redcoats that come by. To make her cousins laugh. I suppose she thought she’d try doing it to your face since she knows you’re a friend.”

“Yes, well,” John dipped his head a bit, clasping his hands behind his back. “I can’t say I blame her. I’ve heard brutal things.”

“Aye. My family suffered many an indignity in my absence at the hand of some Redcoat or another,” Jamie said, tightening his grip on Claire. “My brother-in-law told me Claire was beaten.”

“Oh, Jamie,” Claire said. “I wish he hadn’t…”

“No, I’m glad he did. Because if he ever returned — ”

“I know Lord John is a friend,” Claire interrupted quickly. “But perhaps it’s best either way to...refrain. From what you’re about to say. Or anything similar.”

Jamie nodded, tight-lipped. “Aye. Well, ye get the idea. The wean’s trust has been broken. Hers and the rest of my family, unfortunately. My sister is none too pleased ye’re here.”

“Brianna has had to lie to protect me, us, all her life,” Claire said softly. “She saw me bruised and bloodied after that beating. She’s...she’s only eight. Back then she was only six. It’s...difficult to conceptualize a ‘good Redcoat’. For everyone, not just her.”

“I understand,” John said. “Believe me, I do. The last thing I want is to make anybody uncomfortable. I’ll just fill out the report and be on my way.”

“Ye mean just leave?” Jamie said, incredulous. “I’ll no’ have that. Ye’ve been traveling fer days, no doubt, no’ a home-cooked meal in sight.”

“Well, yes — ”

“And beds at an inn arena so comfortable, I ken it well.”

“Stay the night?” Claire said, perhaps a little too abruptly. “Do you think that’s the best idea? You know...Jenny?” she added quickly.

Not because I’m threatened...because of Jenny.

“Jenny can hang,” Jamie said, genially. “This man sacrificed his own safety to see me home. Right this minute he’s putting himself in danger, knowing as he does I’m no Mister Malcolm. The least we can do fer him is give him some leisure, good food, and a warm bed. Fer one night.”

Claire sighed. “Alright. But you are talking to Jenny.”

John chuckled, oblivious as to just how much he should fear Janet Fraser Murray.

“Speaking of Mister Malcolm, should I mention a Mistress Malcolm in my report?” John asked.

“Well...the other officers who’ve come by know me as a Fraser cousin, and a Scot at that,” Claire said uneasily. “Elizabeth Fraser.”

“I suppose I could say Mister Malcolm was made a widower during his time in prison, and that he’s remarried to the previously unmarried Fraser cousin. Would that make it easier for you both to live your lives together?”

Jamie and Claire exchanged a look. “What d’ye think, mo ghraidh? Any interest in being Mrs. Malcolm?”

She hummed an amused laugh. “It would be an honor.”

He leaned in to kiss her sweetly, and Claire was so swept up in the moment, she nearly forgot John was standing right in front of them.

“I thank ye, John,” Jamie said warmly.

“We thank you,” Claire corrected, smiling at John while embracing Jamie, “my friend.”

“It is a privilege to be known as such by such a woman,” John said with a small bow of his head.

“Shall I show ye around the grounds, then?” Jamie said, excited. “The lads are in the fields waiting fer me to return, but they can surely wait. Fergus can lead.”

“Fergus. Your son?” John said, as if recalling.

“Aye,” Jamie said, swelling with pride. “Ye’ll meet him at supper.”

Claire nearly offered to show John around herself so that Jamie may get back to work, but she knew that he was proud of his ancestral home and that he would find great joy in showing his friend all there was to see.

But she was too curious to pass up the opportunity to be alone with John for a few minutes.

“Why don’t you tell the lads you won’t be back so they’re not waiting for you? The last thing we need is Jenny’s wrath that productivity was slowed for all this,” Claire said.

“Aye, ye’re right.”

“We’ll wait for you in the stables, I’ll show him the stock.”

Jamie made a Scottish noise of approval, squeezing Claire to him and kissing her temple before darting off to the fields.

“Shall we?”

Claire looked up to see that John was offering her his arm. She curtsied slightly before accepting, fitting her arm in the crook of his elbow before heading off around the house and toward the stables.

“You have no idea how often he spoke of you,” John said, seemingly out of nowhere. “He loves you dearly.”

“I know,” Claire said. “I can assure you it is equally returned. Believing him dead was...nothing short of horrific. For eight years.”

“I am sorry,” John said, sincerely. “If there were a way to get word to you safely…”

“Please, don’t. You’ve risked yourself enough as it is.” Claire gave his arm a squeeze, offering him a reassuring smile.

A small silence passed between them, nothing to be heard but the bleating of the goats, the clucking of the chickens, and the leaves rustling around them.

“You love him,” Claire said.

John stiffened against her, nearly stopping in his tracks. “No, I hardly know what — ”

“It wasn’t a question,” Claire said, strengthening her resolve a bit, hardening her jaw. “Jamie told me of your predilections.”

He made to pull away, panicked. “Madame, I — ”

“It’s alright, my Lord.” Claire tightened her grip, not letting him get away. “Where I come from...such things are not so taboo.”

He gawked at her. “I’d certainly like to know where that is.”

“It’s...hard to explain,” Claire said wistfully.

John cleared his throat. “How...how much did he tell you?”

“He told me of your friend that you lost. Which…I am sorry for that loss.”

“Thank you,” he said, his voice tight.

“And he told me how you...looked at him. And now that you’re here...I see it.” Claire looked away, staring ahead at the stables as they came into closer view. “You look at him the way he looks at me.”

“I…” John sighed. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m not sure either.” Claire kept her gaze ahead, uncomfortably aware of their closeness. “In a way, selfishly...I’m glad you love him so much. Because that’s what brought him back to me. But it’s...cruel, isn’t it?”

“How is that?”

“Because he...he’s not…” Claire almost stopped, as John nearly had before. “He isn’t. Is he?”

John chuckled softly, smiling sadly. “There were a few times where I thought perhaps he might be. But his heart belongs to only one.”

Claire could feel his eyes on her, so she turned her head, making uncomfortable eye contact. “So you really never…”

“No, Madame, I did not. We did not.” He did stop then, looking at her seriously. “I’d never met you, of course, but I’d not be able to live with myself if I was part of betraying you.” He started walking again, his more serious point made. “I confess I hardly even had the desire, knowing as I did how madly he loves you.”

“Hardly?” Claire’s brow furrowed.

“Well…” She could feel the heat from his blush radiating off of him. “I couldn’t say never. That would be a lie. And I do pride myself on my honesty.” His words were clipped and terse; Claire almost regretted bringing it up. “You could say the mind was willing, but the flesh was weak. In a way.”

Claire nodded slowly, staring ahead again. “If it...weren’t for me. Would you have?”

She felt him stiffen again. “No. It would be an abuse of my power over him. Such a thing would be despicable.”

Despite his discomfort, Claire could hear the genuineness in his voice. It was a comfort to know, but that still wasn’t what she meant.

“What if...that wasn’t an issue?” she pressed further. “Would you have?”

She heard him swallow. “Well...yes. I’d have tried.”

Claire nodded. “Would he…?”

“You know him better than I do,” John said, not a hint of malice. He meant it.

“I’m...I’m not so sure about that,” Claire said, sounding more sad than she’d meant to. “I just mean it’s...it’s been eight years. A lot of things can change in that time. People change.”

“While that may be true, Madame Fraser, one thing has not changed,” he stopped again, turning to face her, taking both of her hands in his, “and that is the love he bears you. That I can assure you.”

Claire forced a smile, gratefully squeezing his hand.

“God, you are a dreadfully forward woman,” he said, chuckling.

“I’ve always been terribly honest,” she said sheepishly.

“While frightening, I don’t find that necessarily a detriment,” he said lightly. He offered his arm again, and she took it much less hesitantly, leading the rest of the way to the stables.

“Do you know that I bear you no ill will?” John said rather suddenly. “I realize how shallow of a promise that may seem, given that you have everything I’ve ever wanted and could never have. But it’s true.” Claire felt shame burning in her core to think of her initial reaction to the depth of John’s feelings. “Do you know what I said to Jamie after he was freed?”

“Cherish that wife of yours, Fraser,” Claire quoted fondly. “He told me.”

“Did he tell you why I said it?”

“No?”

“He asked me what he could do to repay me,” John said.

Claire felt an unexpected rush of tears, suddenly overcome with something resembling pity, mixed with immense gratitude. She squeezed his arm and looked at him.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

“John,” he corrected lightly. “Please.”

“Then I’m Claire,” she echoed, “John.”

“Alright, Claire.”

They finally reached the stables, and Claire took the initiative to introduce him to all of the horses. Rabbie was in a stall with John’s horse, still brushing the beast down as he gnawed on his hay. John was absolutely tickled when Claire introduced Alastair as Brianna’s horse.

“Takes after her father, then?”

“Quite. She’d been begging me to ride since she could talk. I delayed it for years because of her condition.”

“Condition?” John’s brow furrowed, concerned.

“Oh, she’s perfectly healthy. Just...leftover complications from a difficult birth. If she fell it could kill her. I’m just...paranoid.”

“I see,” John said, though he still seemed concerned. “Does Jamie know?”

“Do I know what?” Jamie appeared in the doorway of the stables.

“Brianna’s condition,” Claire said, welcoming Jamie back into her arms.

“Oh, aye, I ken all about that,” Jamie said. “She’s a fighter, my daughter. Braw wee thing.”

“I can tell,” John said, smiling knowingly.

“Alright,” Jamie said, taking the place that John had just had, settling Claire’s arm in the crook of his elbow. “Ye’re acquainted wi’ the beasts, aye? Shall we move on to the rest of the land?”

Claire and John exchanged a fond look before both looking up at Jamie.

“We shall,” John said.

[spell-cleaver]

DAY 21: FLUFFTOBER: “I don’t understand” @flufftober​

The Pirate Son Masterpost

This is set just after this ficlet, where Luke and Vader first met!

Vader didn’t bother to wait for the hole in his chest to close before he was barking orders, shouting at his men, telling them to get after those pirates. He’d see them all hang—especially that arrogant little boy sorcerer who looked like the baby his kind had murdered. He’d see them swing from the gallows, the insolent man and then the rebellious princess who’d shot him, and make the pirate watch… and then he would kill him himself.

But his men were incompetent. The pirates escaped onto the horizon.

No matter.

He was sure he would see them again.

Until then…

“Tear this ship apart,” he commanded. “I want to know everything about its collusion with the Rebellion, where it was hired, what contracts it did—anything to further our destruction of all organised resistance.”

Piett jumped to attention. “And the evidence on piracy, sir?”

“Give that to me as well.” He had made it his mission, since he lost Padmé and their son to those pirates who’d attacked, to wipe that stain from the seas, and so far he was succeeding. He’d heard rumours that the skull and crossbones flag was now taboo to be flown—his mask was too similar to the skull, a reminder of the death that stalked them.

Good.

He would crush them, ship by filthy ship.

Starting with this one.

He strode onto the lower decks to get an idea of it himself, a strange tug in his chest. He would find some important information in here, he was sure—he just knew it.

The first room he checked was the pantry. Poorly stocked—no wonder that rat had been so scrawny—and poorly kept. He scoffed and moved on.

The next room was the bunk room. The hammocks still hung from the ceiling, the lanterns having long since sputtered out, dripping wax on an eternally damp floor. Scraps of clothes, rags, lay about the place, bags of each pirate’s belongings hanging beside where they slept. He gave them all a cursory glance then strode on; his men would inspect that in detail.

The third room he came to was… an office.

That crude ruffian who’d talked back to him, who the sorcerer had intervened to save, had been the captain of the ship. Vader was relatively sure of that.

He did not strike him as the man who had kept this office.

This office was tiny, poky, as would be expected on the limited size of a ship; all it held was the desk, with its drawers and the chair behind it, a swinging lantern in the ceiling and a candle clamped to the desk leg. But this was no doubt where the administration of the ship was done, where their passage and plundering deals were made, so Vader made to tear open one of the drawers to read through the paperwork—and hissed.

The lock glowed a bright, angry red, sparks flying, then cooled down again.

Locked magically, then.

So, it was the boy sorcerer who’d used this office—controlled their allegiance to the Rebellion. No wonder he’d been so intent on making sure they were opposed to the Empire, if he was worried about being persecuted for his powers…

Vader muttered a few words, and found the charm, observed how it interlocked together. It was a good, strong spell. Impressive. The boy had power.

But Vader had more.

He broke the charm with ease and tore open the drawer, rifling through the contents and dropping down into the chair.

He sat back immediately in disgust.

These were not payment receipts, or contracts. These were letters. Personal letters. Useless to him, unless he wanted to find out more about these individual characters, and he frankly did not care enough to do that. He just wanted them dead.

He crunched a letter in his fist—then paused.

Something caught his eye.

It was a foolish thing. Three letters—Sky. It was a word, even, a common word. But despite Vader’s years of distancing himself from his former name, it still caused a jolt of recognition in him.

And when he relaxed his grip slightly in shock, he read more of the word: Skywal.

That was an uncommon collection of letters.

Uncommon, except in the case of—

He opened his hand fully and laid out the letter on the desk, peering at it closely as he smoothed it down again. Yes: that word was Skywalker.

I know of some honourable allies on Naboo who would be delighted to obtain the famed services of Privateer Skywalker…

He fisted his hand again. What was this?

Vader had never been a pirate. Even his weak, foolish former self had never been a pirate, never sunk that low—

Pirates had killed his son, the youngest Skywalker, and now one of them was taking that name—

Until he read the letter in more detail.

It was a communique—a highly affectionate one—from the Princess Leia Organa, the last survivor of the royal family of Alderaan. Vader knew that; he’d been there when Tarkin killed the rest of that family. He’d helped place the kingdom under military rule in the name of the Empire.

And as he scanned it, the name at the top…

Luke.

She was writing… to a boy—presumably the mage boy who kept this office—called… Luke…

“What did you name him, in the end?” Vader had asked, gesturing to the baby Padmé cradled in her arms, half-shielding him from his father with her body.

She’d responded curtly, “Luke.”

Luke.

That… that boy… with the impossibly blue eyes, impossibly blond hair… the stature and the arrogance and the power, the magic that thrummed in his slim frame…

Privateer Skywalker…

The pirates had killed Luke.

Vader knew that. He’d interrogated them, asked them himself. He’d tracked them down and tormented them until they begged for mercy, and they had confessed: the baby they’d kidnapped, they’d attacked that ship for, they had thrown overboard. He hadn’t been worth the trouble, apparently.

Vader’s son was dead because of pirates.

And… and now he’d hunted pirates for years, had hunted and terrorised and tried to kill one today, only for the similarities to haunt him, only for…

Privateer Luke Skywalker.

A sorcerer-pirate.

A powerful ally for the Princess and Alliance alike.

Vader could have dwelled on how much he’d hurt his son already. He could have thought about how close he’d come to killing him, so many times already, how even now his son grew farther and farther away from him with every passing moment, in the company of thieves and traitors. And he did: all of those thoughts flashed through his mind at once, stirring up a lethal cocktail of guilt, regret, and fury.

But one emotion won out above them all.

He didn’t know what it was—more profound than shock, more powerful than relief, more desperate than hope, even fiercer than love itself. But it fizzed up and filled his chest with a dizzying intensity, until he could barely breathe for it all, and suddenly he was combing through the other drawers, trying to find a contract, trying to find notes, trying to find anything—

His heart stopped when he found it.

He unfolded the dry sheet of paper with painstaking care, running his fingers along the ink. It was just the receipt for a payment they’d received, something about an attack on an Imperial fleet… but there were several names signed at the bottom of it, and his gaze was riveted to one.

“I don’t understand,” he whispered. “I… I can’t believe this, it… can’t be…”

Luke Skywalker was dead.

Lost to Davy Jones’s locker years ago, before he could speak his first word.

Vader laughed to himself, that quiet sound conveying the sheer wonder of this moment, the unparalleled beauty of a world that had allowed this to happen.

That had given him his son back.

There would be anger later. There would be hatred, and raging, and screaming as he pieced together what must have happened, and tried to pursue the boy to the ends of the seas in a futile attempt to capture him. Vader’s obsession and disdain for all pirates but one would peak exponentially, he would command his ship like a man possessed. He would be the monster they all called him, but worse: he would be a monster with purpose.

And yet for now, he brushed his thumb against the signature Privateer Luke Skywalker and felt hope kindle in a spot in his chest that had long lain cold and barren.

[sionnachoir]

another world (Alien!Izuku Midoriya x Reader

(Its 3am and wow i want an alien bf???)

You wiped sweat off your brow with the back of your wrist, likely smearing more oil over your face. You let out a groan as you tightened a nut, you crashed your ship on some planet. It was like nothing you had ever seen, it was truly a thing only a mad man could have come up with.

You had gotten lucky, aliens had saved your life. Well, one alien in particular, his name was Deku. He was smaller than most and rather scrawny yet, he still seemed to tower over you, he had pale green skin that shone almost blue in direct sunlight. It was a sight to behold, his dark curly green hair was messily sat upon his head. He looked like he had rolled right out of bed, which had been likely as he had been a little later than usual. 

He had two small ears, you had assumed anyway, on his forehead. They matched the colour of his skin and would occasionally twitch. Just behind his ears, sitting on top of his head were dark green horns that went into a neon green gradient. His green eyes with a black sclera were squinting due to the sun.

He had been so kind and helped you out when you really needed it, he took you in and looked after you. He had given you special devises, they were light years ahead of earth and their technology. It was like comparing Albert Einstein and a toddler.

You had been on this beautiful planet for what you had guessed had been a few months. The scenery was incredible with lush green trees with pale grey, almost green bark and beautiful purple leaves that filled the branches. You could see a few purple and white fruits hanging on the trees, when ripe they were extremely sweet and delicious.

The grass was a dark teal colour, spreading far and wide. The dirt was orange and extremely crumbly, the crops that grew from it doubled the size of earths crops. The only downside being that the rain was acidic and you couldn’t leave Deku’s home.

“Can you hand me those pliers?” You questioned, pulling back from your task to gratefully take the tool from Deku. A wire looked like it had melted, that would be of no use. You yanked it out of the socket with the pliers, moving back with your own force.

You let out a sight and jumped off the step ladder, you fell to the ground, instantly leaning against the rocket. “Tired?” Deku had made a translation collar for you, so you could understand each other. The first few days before it came had been extremely difficult. You nodded your head in response, the sun was extremely harsh today.

Deku bit his lip, playing with his finger. “You could take a break? We could go inside.” You toyed with the idea for a minute in your head, who knew when or even if you could fix the rocket. “Yeah. I’d like that.” You nodded, Deku’s beaming smile almost stopped your heart. He stood and helped you up, his claws lightly grazing your wrist. His hands had patches of scales, just like the rest of his body. But rather then be repulsed you found yourself liking the feeling of his scales, despite the rougher texture.

Deku excitedly lead you inside, talking about how their president was the best and asking how yours was. All you could do was scoff in response, this caused confusion to spread over his face. You waved him off, you didn't need to tell him about the horrible things that happened on earth. 

He sat down on a sofa, it was the softest thing you had ever felt before. It would be so easy to fall asleep here. You took a seat next to Deku, leaning into his incredibly warm body. You looked as a picture suddenly appeared on the T.V. The president standing proudly to announce something, you weren't paying much attention.

Having Deku so close had your mind running wild, yet you didn't want to pull away. Everything was insane, one minute you had been flying to help out some stranded comrades the next your sucked into a worm hole and thrown through time and space. 

Even if you did fix the rocket, there was no guarantee the worm hole was even still there. There was no guarantee you were even still in the same galaxy. The thought caused a small amount of fear to build up, without noticing you instinctively clung closer to deku.

His arm wrapped around you, his tough skin rubbing against your soft skin. He watched intently and listened to every word that came out of his mouth, you found it adorable how he hung onto every word. From what you knew it was deserved, the planet had been once devastated by a war. He rose from the ashes and rebuilt the world with the survivors, and it became the world it once had been.

You were glad you had came now, you couldn't have imagined how terrible it must have been to see a once beautiful land turned into nothing but rubble and ash. "Hello?" Deku called, a worried look on his face as he waved his hand around your vision. You let out a hum, looking at him questioningly. "Are you okay? You seemed deep in thought." His voice was kind, but laced with worry.

You let out a little laugh. "I'm probably never going home, you know?" You saw Deku's lips twitch up, his ears wiggled slightly. "Oh?" He questioned. "I don't even know where I am." You knew they probably had the technology to and yet, you stopped Deku before he could speak. "I'm not sure I want to go back." He cocked his head, reminding you of a curious puppy. "I really like it here with you Deku." Your voice was soft as you gazed at him, waiting for his reaction. The sight of his entire body turning red had your jaw dropping.

"Yo-you wha-at?" He stuttered out, you almost squealed at the cuteness. Never in your life did you think you would literary see someone blushing from head to toe, he quickly composed himself and wrapped you into a tight hug. "That makes me happy." You could hear his smile in his voice, it brought a flush to your own face. He pulled back, looking you in the eye. "Wont you miss earth?" He questioned, you thought for a second. "No, I don't have anything worht staying for back there. Here I do." 

Deku seemed gleeful with your confession, he wrapped you into another tight hug. Your eyebrows raised at the sound of chirping that came from his chest, the adorable sound caused your smile to grow impossibly wider.

[mrsdr-ethan-ramsey]

Rookie (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Y’all, I couldn’t stop myself from writing this at like 12:30 last night. I literally fell asleep writing, but I needed to feel more angst. Honestly my biggest fear is that Ethan will start calling someone else Rookie. Plus it was an excuse not to do homework. I hope you all like it! (Also if you have any ideas or requests with Ethan, I would be more than excited to try to write them!)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Parker Kennedy)

Summary: When Parker hears Ethan call another intern Rookie, she can’t stop herself from confronting him.

Warnings: Angsttttttt, cause I love and hate how much Parker and Ethan hurt right now

Word Count: ~2500

‘So far, so good’ Parker thought as she maneuvered through the familiar halls of Edenbrook. She was off to pick up her intern, Esme Ortega, after delivering the results from the diagnostics patient she tested early today. She felt like she was on autopilot as she thought back to her discussion with Dr. Ramsey.

“We’ll be okay. We’ll make it work.”

Her heart still stopped as she thought about those words. To anyone else it would sound like they were talking about work; about their professional relationship. But they weren’t. He held her hand as he told her those words. His thumb rubbed the back of her hand so lightly that if she hadn’t looked down she probably would have missed it. Was he talking about their work relationship? A little bit. Was he talking about their personal relationship? She hoped to some greater being that he was. Needless to say, she felt like she was on top of the world.

Once she reached the nursing desk, she found Esme talking with Jackie and her intern, Molly Addison, adamantly. Parker put her best smile on her face as she came over.

“Hey all! How were rounds? Sorry I had to miss it Esme.”

Esme looked over at Parker, obviously not enjoying her peppy attitude. “It was fine.”

“Oh my gosh, no it was amazing!” Molly squealed. At this, both Jackie and Esme cringed. Parker hid her slight annoyance for the young red head as she gushed about all the ‘super cool!’ things they had seen! Parker only slightly regretted asking her about rounds, but she was happy that the young intern was enjoying her time at Edenbrook.

“I’m glad you’re finding your place here!” Parker smiled, “But I’ve got to talk to Esme about a couple things. We’ll see you guys later!”

Esme quickly followed Parker whispering a small ‘Thank God’ as Jackie sighed, being left with the human version of sunshine and bubble gum.

***

After a couple hours of showing Esme the ropes and watching her present her case, she finally found herself back at the nurse’s station. She was about to congratulate Esme on her stellar performance so she could see her roll her eyes again before she heard a deep voice call down the hall.

“Rookie!”

Parker’s head immediately snapped to the familiar voice, ready to go help with Dr. Ramsey with whatever he needed. Just as she was about to head over, she watched Molly skip over.

“Yes Dr. Ramsey?” She asked sweetly, her voice dripping with desire.

Parker couldn’t hear the rest as her high from earlier quickly died. He obviously called her that before because she came right over and he started talking to her. When did he start calling other people Rookie? That was her nickname! Right? Although, he did seem reluctant to call her Rookie when she saw him at Donahue’s…but that doesn’t matter. The point is, he had only ever called her rookie. Now suddenly this beautiful intern was Rookie?

“Woah, Parker. Don’t think too hard. There’s going to be smoke coming from you soon,” Elijah called, snapping her out of her internal panicking.

Parker turned to see Elijah and Sienna coming up, their interns following close behind. They seemed good, not overly excited like Molly but more open to conversation than Esme.

“Second year doctors meeting only,” Parker said quickly, tugging Sienna and Elijah some ways away from their interns.

“What’s up P?” Elijah asked.

“That!” Parker whispered angrily as she gestured towards Dr. Ramsey and Molly talking down the hall. “He called her Rookie!”

At this, both the doctors’ eyes widen.

“Seriously?!” Sienna exclaimed. She wouldn’t be happy to beat up Dr. Ramsey, but if Parker needed her to she would happily kick his ass back to the Amazon.

All three of them turned their eyes turned back to Dr. Ramsey and the intern. He must have felt their eyes on him, because his attention immediately turned and shot them a little glare. In panic the three quickly ran off with their interns, hoping to avoid the wrath of Dr. Ramsey.

***

Parker tried not to think about how betrayed she felt. She really did, but it always seemed to be nudging her in the back of her mind no matter where she was. She bumped into six different people because she had been so distracted about it. That’s how she ended up wide awake in her bed at 2:30 am. Her body rolling around under the covers, hearing Ethan say Rookie only to have the young intern bounce up to him happily. She was pretty, Parker did have to admit that. Her hair was naturally red, layered with different shade of red and orange that made it look like flames. She was small with a near perfect figure. Parker, on the other hand, was scrawny right now and slowly starting to gain weight now that Sienna was making sure she ate three meals a day. While Parker had brown-green muddy eyes, Molly’s eyes were crystal blue. Seriously, how could a man resist a girl like Molly?!

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the desperation to know what was going on, but Parker found herself climbing out of bed quickly. She pulled on leggings and a baggy sweatshirt before she called an Uber. Tip toeing through her apartment, she was glad Landry was no longer there. If he had, she wouldn’t be surprised if he was up ‘getting ready to go to the hospital’ as this time. She rolled her eyes at this thought before slipping a pair of shoes on and hurriedly leaving her building.

The ride was short without the normal traffic of the busy city. 2:45 was an excellent time to drive through Boston, Parker thought as she stared out the window at the lights flying by. The towering buildings were a dramatic change from her Midwest home, and she loved it. She was meant to be here; she could feel it deep within her.

Once at Ethan’s apartment, she thanked her driver and tipped her generously for driving her at such an awful time. Parker than moved towards the familiar building, pressing his apartment number praying the buzzing would wake him up. After a bit with no response, she repeatedly hit the button over and over (she knew this would annoy him awake).

“I swear if this is a prank I will call the cops,” she heard Ethan’s familiar voice crackled angrily through the intercom, Jenner barking in the background.

Quickly, she hit the speak button and said urgently, “Ethan! It’s Parker! I need to talk to you, now!”

“Parker?” He sounded confused, and tired.

Before she could reply, she heard the lock click. She didn’t waste any time getting into the building, hitting the number for his floor. The elevator shot up, brining her closer to a sleepy (and more than likely pissed) Ethan Ramsey. When she was outside his door, she hesitated. Was she really going to barge into Ethan’s apartment and demand to know why he’s calling Molly, Rookie? This was crazy! She was crazy! She should just go home, and if Ethan asks her just deny, deny, deny. She could convince him it was a dream, right? Ugh, who was she kidding. Ethan’s too smart to fall for that plan, she thought. Instead, she stood at the door; petrified as she lifted her hand and knocked gently against the wood.

Ethan had never been a heavy sleeper, so when he heard his buzzer go off the first time he thought it had been someone hitting the wrong number. After it keep going incessantly and Jenner started barking, he forced himself out of his light sleep to scare the kids ringing his buzzer shitless. He had been more than surprised to hear Parker’s voice and quickly let her into the building, assuming that something had happened. He couldn’t think of another reason as to why she’d come 3 am. He swung the door open, preparing for the worst, but was surprised to see her completely fine.

“Parker, what’s wrong?”

Hearing his voice, heavy and low with sleep she lost her train of thought. All she could think about was how she had woken up to that voice before. How he kept her in bed as long as possible, knowing that when they left her room it’d be over. She just hadn’t expected him to replace her so quickly.

“Did I mean nothing to you?” she whispered, barely audibly. Tears threatened to stream, but she refused to cry in front of him. She already felt like a child compared to him, if she cried in front of him it would be the icing on the cake. But Ethan could easily see through her, so he opened the door wider to let her in. He wouldn’t let her cry in the hallway.

As she crossed into his space, Ethan’s brows furrowed in confusion, “What are you talking about?”

“Rookie.”

Ethan’s face flushed. “You heard that?”

Radio silence. Neither knew what to say to make this situation better. There was an invisible wall between the two and neither were quite sure how to take it down. Parker had tried that first night at Donahue’s when she kissed him, only to receive the nicest rejection she had ever gotten. She had hoped that seeing her and kissing her again would remind him of what they had before he vanished. Unfortunately, he had a much better resolve than her. So now she didn’t know what to do. She had no backup plan on how to win him back over.

“If you weren’t interested in me, you could have just told me…if you just wanted someone prettier you could have just said, you didn’t need to string me along for two months and then flirt with another girl in front of me to make that point.”

“I wasn’t flirting with her Parker. Christ.” He ran his hands through his bed head. How had she gotten that from one conversation with an intern whose name he couldn’t even remember? Did she really think that he’d try to get with an intern when he just told her that they need to keep a professional relationship? Did she really think that low of him?

He locked eyes with her. “I didn’t know her name and couldn’t be bothered to ask.”

Parker looked back at him, begging his deep ocean eyes to tell her the truth. She saw that he was actually hurt that she had thought he was flirting with another intern. She felt stupid for jumping to conclusions, but it had hurt to hear him call another person ‘Rookie’. If he was looking for a sure way to drive her crazy, he found it without even trying.

“I…I guess I had always thought I was your Rookie. I didn’t think you’d drop it as soon as you got back…”

“Parker,” he said gently, “You’re not a Rookie anymore. You’re a skilled doctor who earned her way onto the nation’s top diagnostics team. I assumed you wouldn’t want me calling you that anymore.”

He was right, as usual. Anyone else listening in would probably find the nickname degrading, not endearing like she did. She couldn’t fight his rationale behind the name change, so instead she looked down at her feet like a child caught stealing a cookie. Ethan looked at her small frame, finally analyzing her. She seemed a little off than what he had remembered her being two months ago. She seemed a little duller, not as wide-eyed and hopeful as she did when she first walked through Edenbrook. He hated that she lost her sparkle under his watch; he had no one to blame but himself.

Parker made her way to the floor to ceiling windows, looking out over the bay as she crossed her arms protectively in front of her. She was putting up a barricade around herself, hoping to ease the pain. If the wall between them wasn’t coming down, she’d simply put one around herself to stop her from trying to scale or break it down to get to him. “You still have the best view in all of Boston.”

“I’ve learned to appreciate it more,” Ethan said with a sad smile, thinking about how Parker had pointed the view out to him the first night they were together. That felt so long ago. He studied her shrunken frame. She looked at home in his space. He loved that, but he knew he shouldn’t get used to it.

Ethan heard her let out a small yawn, reminding himself of the time. “Why do you get a little rest before your shift. You take my bed; I’ll take the couch.”

At the offer, Parker turned back to look at him. “Oh, you don’t need to do that. I’m fine on the couch.”

“Nope. My house, my rules.” He insisted, as he lead her into his bedroom. He made quick work ordering Parker to take off her shoes and get in the bed. Once she was laying down, he pulled the covers up around her.

Parker let out a yawn as she looked up at Ethan sleepily. “Thank you.”

“You’re always welcome here Parker.”

As she closed her eyes and flipped onto her stomach, Ethan couldn’t stop his heart from going wild. Seeing Parker Kennedy back in his bed made him wish that he could wake up to this view every day. He wanted nothing more than to climb into bed next to her and pull her into his chest, whispering sweet nothings as she drifted off. Fuck, he had never been a romantic before she came barging into his life. He hated that she did this to him, but loved it just the same. Fighting every urge in his body to get into the bed, he walked out to the living room and sat down on the couch. Flicking on the lamp, he slid his glasses on and began to read a new medical journal as Jenner slept happily at his feet.

***

The morning had been weird for Parker and Ethan, but they maneuvered it as gracefully as they could…like a baby giraffe learning how to walk. They stumbled around kitchen making coffee and toast. He even offered to give her a ride to the hospital. As they walked in, they saw Baz walking in as well, so Ethan (ever so smooth) made the comment that ‘He and Dr. Kennedy had met early to discuss her role on the team’. Parker couldn’t help but smile at this as she went off to find Esme and start the day.

Late in the afternoon at the nurse’s station, Parker caught a glimpse of Dr. Ramsey talking to Molly again. Her stomach flipped and she tried not to listen in to the conversation…but she really couldn’t help herself.

“Dr. Addison, I expect the results on my desk by 6. And your patient better not be dead.” He said sternly, leaving Molly with a shocked look on her face. 

As Dr. Ramsey stormed off, he met Parker with a soft smile. He may not call her Rookie at work, but he knew he couldn’t call anybody else her nickname.

[hobbitsnapes]

The Red Hoods Protègè chapter 19

Older Damian Wayne x ofc

(Photo made by my lovely friend @inspeech)

Summary:Red Hood has taken a young vigilante under his wing and subsequently changes Damians life forever.

Tags: @comic-nerd-dc @comic-brew @psychovigilantewrites @psych0crybaby

Her feet padded lightly against the floor, the sound the only noise in the room. Everyone was downstairs, from what she could hear there was an electrical issue with the computers that she totally didn’t tell them about last week when the screen went black by itself.

She came across one of the shelves in the large family room, it held a large binder booklet. It was definitely old, having collected a layer of dust over it. She brushed it off to reveal a sticker on the cover. ‘Family photos’ it wrote. She examined the handwriting, from the looks of it, it was Alfreds. But it also looked a lot like her fathers. Upon further inspection it was alfreds, the writing was finer. She noticed the pen was lightly written onto the paper with more fluid lines and less indentation from the pressure of the pen. Her father had beautiful writing, but his was heavier. The lines were thicker, and you could feel the indentation of the pen whenever he wrote.

She picked up the large book, nearly dropping it due to the heavy weight. It wasn’t so heavy that it was a struggle, but definitely had more weight than she assumed.

She sat down on the couch, placing the book on her lap which she brought up onto the seat.

Opening up the cover, she spotted writing on the side of it. They were names, all in different handwriting.

The first name written was Richard, Jason, Barbara, Tim, steph, and finally Damian. Out of all of them, Damian's writing was the neatest. Almost looking like he typed it out and printed it. But she could feel the small amount of indentation when she ran her fingers over it.

The first photo was of a, family. There were only 3 people in the photo. The mother and father were crouched down on either side of their son. The mother had blonde hair that was pulled into a bun. The father had dark hair that was slightly curly. Both had wide smiles on their face that reached their eyes. In the middle was a boy, he had jet black hair, a small smile, and blue eyes. In front of the boy was a cake, with the number 8 in a large candle in the middle.

She felt a sinking suspicion that she knew who they were, and when she looked above the fireplace, her question was answered. There was a large photo of Tomas and Martha Wayne, with a young Bruce in between them. Her heart pulled slightly when she looked back down. Down at the happy family, with the young boy who had no idea what was to shortly come for him in months time. Her heart pulled further when she looked at the small boy. There was the eyes of an innocent boy who’s eyes shined with light and joy. Now his eyes were tired, empty. Even when she saw him happy, he lacked the pure joy and life that he once had. It was painful to look at, to see how different he had become.

She turned the page to see another boy. He looked an awful lot like Bruce, but it was obvious it wasn’t. He was older than the photo of Bruce, but still a young boy. He had a scowl on his face at the camera, which caused her to chuckle. Her laughter was cut when she noted the dark circles under his eyes. His overall demeanor screamed he was tired. She looked down at the corner of the page to see a small bit of writing. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw it was dick. She had only seen the man with a bright smile. Always looking so full of life, he looked like the sun shined out his ass every morning. It was shocking, seeing how angry he looked then. How she wished she could go back in time to tell the young boy how happy he will be. And how great he is to come.

She flipped the page to the next, letting out a laugh at the photo. She knew exactly who it was without thinking. With the bright strawberry blonde hair and the bright green blue eyes. It was hilarious to see, she was so used to seeing her father as a large, muscular man with scars on his face. He was a small, scrawny little boy with curly blonde hair.

“I see you’ve found the family photo booklet.” Alfred said, making her jump and turn around at the man. He had a small smile on his face, with a cup in his hand.

He walked over to her, sitting beside her and set his tea down onto the table. “That, was your father when he was adopted. He was overjoyed that day. I couldn’t help but take his photo.” He said, a fond smile on his face.

He flipped to the next page to see Tim. He was younger then, around the same age as the last few. His hair was short, almost a military length. It was odd, he didn’t have the dark runner eyes that he does now, and his hair wasn’t long like now. “This was, when master Tim became robin. He had finally convinced master Bruce that he need a robin after,” “I know, Tim told me all about it. It’s fine, if it wasn’t for what happened. I wouldn’t have met my dad, or any of you.” She said, looking over to him with a small smile.

The next page was turned, to a photo of Damian. She stifled a laugh at the photo. He was definitely very young here, no older than 11. But he looked like he had lived through 40 years. He had a tight scowl on his face, hard eyes that bore into the camera. Unlike dicks photo who looked angry and hurt, Damian just looked like an angry cat. But what she couldn’t get by, was his hair. Since she’s known him, he’s always had practically the same hairstyle. His sides are either short, or shaved. The hair at the top of his head was longer, and pulled back. Sometimes the longer hairs would fall into his face and be curly, but nothing like this. His hair was almost spiky. It wasn’t styled that was, it was obviously naturally that way. She couldn’t hold in her laughter anymore, throwing her head back against the couch. Alfred chuckled along with her, trying to stop his chuckles with his hand. “Master Damian, had that hair until he was 16.” Alfred laughed, causing her to laugh even harder.

They kept going through the booklet, laughing at some of the photos. But when they got through about 10 more, the photos stopped. She looked over to him, her head slightly tilted in question. “That’s it?” She asks, noting the book to have probably hundreds of more pages. “I’m afraid so, we stopped taking them a few years ago. We really only took them when the boys were younger, and when master Damian grew older, we just gave up.” He sighed, his head tilted down. She put her hand against his shoulder, causing the elderly man to look up at her. “Then I’m gonna start it up again. Just because they’re all grown up, doesn’t mean we can’t have more memories. I’m gonna fill this booklet up.”

As she walked down the hallway back to her room, she was tackled to the ground. The air was knocked out of her lungs when she hit, letting out a small yell when a heavy force was on top of her. She nearly threw whatever the threat was off of her, until she felt it’s tongue licking her face. She laughed out as Titus slobbered all over her, trying to get his drool away from her mouth. “Hey buddy, ohh I’ve missed you so much!” She cooed, scratching behind the dogs ears. He flopped off of her onto his back, raising his legs in the air. She rolled over on her side and scratched his belly, laughing at his tongue hanging out his mouth. “Oh yeaah you missed the scritches! You just love when I give you the belly scritches!” She cooed, continuing to laugh as she watched him.

She hadn’t seen much of the dog this whole time, with him always beside Damian and her actively avoiding him.

Titus got up and started licking at her again, wrapping his upper legs around her in a hug. She hugged the large dog back and laughed as he slobbered into her hair. She pulled back to look at the dog, watching as he abruptly stopped his kisses. “Wanna go for a walk?” She asked excitedly, laughing when he shop up from her lap and started jumping. He barked happily as she got up, watching as he bolted down the hallway.

She buttoned up her jacket, holding onto the bag of toys in her arm. She opened the door and watched as he ran out into the backyard, nearly running through the flowers.

She ran out after him, laughing as he ran even faster. They played tag for some minutes, nearly falling on her face a few times when he’d make a sharp turn.

She sat down in the grass, noting the small bits of snow on the ground.

She laughed as he pranced over to her, he had a large stick in his mouth that he showed proudly. He dropped it at her feet, looking up at her with big eyes. She picked it up and watched as he chased after it, watching as he cane back with it.

They played ratchet for a while, the large dog seeming to never grow tired with it. That was until she took out a plush toy, watching as he dropped the stick when she squeaked it.

They sat there in the grass as he Chewed up the toy, fluff flying everywhere. She scratched at his belly some more, watching as he nearly starts falling asleep. “Alright boy, let’s get inside.” She cooed, getting up with him and walking back.

Her phone shook in her pocket, startling her slightly. Grabbing for it and looking at the name, a smoky grew on her face. “Hey dad.” She said happily, hearing the slight chuckle at the other end. “Hey bubs,” he chuckled, causing her to slightly laugh. “What’s up? Need anything?” She asked. “No actually, i was just calling to ask how you’re doing.” A smile grew on her face at his question. “Everything’s going alright so far, what about you? Have you abd dick got any clue as to who broke into our apartment?” She asked, she heard his breath catch in his voice. “Uh, nothing yet honey. I’m sorry.” He said, she could hear the hesitation in his tone. She didn’t bother to point it out, knowing he’ll tell her eventually. “Now, why don’t you tell me how your weeks been, I’ve missed talking to you this past week.”

“And as if it couldn’t get worse that night, I nearly shot Roy in the asscrack when I thought he was one of the slippery bastards.” He laughed, causing her to chuckle back. “Well besides your uncle being a dumbass, what’s been going on with you? I know you told me about the party, but I know those idiots must’ve done something.” He asked. “It’s more shocking if they aren’t being idiots here. But besides that, I wouldn’t know.” She says. “Hm?” He asks, causing her to sigh. “I’m not really involved with them when they go out. And, okay there’s no way to transition this. But dad, I think I’m ready to go out.” She admits, hearing him let out a sigh. “I don’t know-“ “i know dad, it’s still scary but you gotta realize, my face has been on every cover of the news lately. They obviously know it’s me. They can obviously put two and two together and realize who everyone is now. And nothings happened. I’m ready dad.”

He sighs, pinching between his eyebrows. “Alright, but I need you to do one thing for me.” He says, his voice calm but stern. “What is it?” She asks. “Let me give you places to go. I don’t want you going out and messing with the big guys. While I don’t doubt how amazing you are, you haven’t done this long. And I know you’re not gonna go out with them. So please, stick to the smaller jobs for now. I’m not gonna be there with you like it’s always been.” He says, his heart panging inside his chest in fear. She sighs, “alright. Where should I go?” “I’ve been watching this group for a while, they’re a bunch of punks who rob small stores. They’ve never robbed any banks or anything bigger than a rite aid. But I was able to tap into one of their lines, and they’re looking to rob the bank that’s a block away from the old library.” “You mean citizens bank?” She asks. “Yes, tonight at 12 they’re looking to break in through the back. Be there by 11:30. No later than 11:40. I’ll hook your coms up to their line so you can listen in on them.” “Anything I gotta be worried about?” “Nothing, they’re 5 guys who call themselves, hear this, the red hoods. Real original.” He chuckles. “Alright, and don’t worry dad, I’ll be safe.” She chuckles. “You better. And remember, I’m always hooked up to your line so if anything happens, tell me and I’ll be there in a heartbeat.” “I know, and thanks dad. I love you.” “I love you to bub.”

The cave was quiet, apart from the waterfall streaming in the background. Everyone suited up quietly as they prepared to leave for the night. That is, apart from someone.

She would usually be down with them, usually by the computers or the training mats. It wasn’t completely out of the ordinary not to have her there. So nobody paid any mind to it.

Damian and Bruce walked over to the tumbler, Tim and dick in tow.

All their heads whipped around when they hear the start of a motorbike. Their hearts accelerating and minds perplexed on who it could be. Then they realized.

She had been hate for close to 2 months, they knew she’d eventually go out. But didn’t Jason say she shouldn’t? She was very well at listening to him, while she was strong willed, she always trusted her father's words. “Let’s not fuss about it. Let’s go.” Bruce says, climbing in with everyone behind him.

The grind was wet under her boots, having rained no more than an hour prior. The street was surprisingly quiet, usually every street was filled with people and cars even at this late of an hour.

She looked down at the watch on her arm, 11:20 it red. She parked her bike in a secluded spot, putting trash cans in front of it.

She walked to the back of the bank, the premis still vacant.

She pulled up jasons contacts on her arm, having had her coms upgraded recently. “Red, I’m here.” She reports. “Good, in the back there’s a locked door with a dial pad. Can you find it?” She looked around the door, spotting the dials almost immediately. “Found it.” “Okay good, the numbers are 11 23 64 88 108 and 47.” She dialed each of the numbers accordingly, watching as the light turned green before the sound of the lock opened. “I’m in.” “Alright, I’m hooking your coms up with theirs as we speak. Call again if anything happens.”

She sat on one of the hanging signs against the wall, making sure not to fall off. She had a clear view of the large room, able to watch and hear when anyone came through.

She looked down to her belt, all equipment ready. She tucked a stray hair behind her ear, snapping a hairpin over it.

Her coms light up and she hears in, the sound muffled by static slightly. “Alright, we go in, grab as much as we can, and run out. No going back for more. We pack as much as we can one round. And keep your guns trained, who knows if we’ll run into one of those freaks.” A man said, his voice was gruff, sounding like a heavy smoker. She heard 4 others agree with him, and the call ended.

She watched as each men walked in slowly, stifling a laugh as she watched them. They looked like your usual robbers, that is apart from the red ski mask and red hoods.

5 of them, the first man who must be the leader, was tall and broad. 3 men behind him, each the same height and relatively sane build. 2 men behind them, the men in the back were small, smaller than the rest. They both shook slightly with their guns in hand. They kept farting around the room, never bothering to look up.

She started climbing down, grabbing onto the sides of the walls to quietly get down.

She stayed behind the wall, eyes trained on the men. She’d wait for them to separate, knowing they’ll be easier without the group.

She watched as the second group went into one room, the others disappearing.

She held her breath as she got to one valt, watching as one tried opening the lock. One man was behind him, watching around the room. The other man was outside the room, eyes trained around the large room around him. Again, never bothering to look in a blind spot where she hid.

She spotted a box of tissues on a table beside her, slowly grabbing for it when he looked the other way.

She threw the box across from her, watching as his head whipped to the noise. He took his gun out and walked towards the noise, right beside her.

She waited until he walked by her, and watched as he bent down to the box.

She got behind him, holding onto him as he struggled. She immediately covered his mouth with chloroform, not even letting him yell out before she applied it. She watched as he slowly dropped to the ground, letting him go as he fell to the ground in a heap.

She dragged his body over to the same blind spot, making sure to secure the cloth around his mouth and nose.

She watched as the first man got inside the vault, waiting for him to get inside.

She pulled up her remote hacking and shut the vault, watching as the first man panicked as the door shut on him.

She ran up to the second man, jabbing her left hand into his lower right rib cage, making sure to hit his liver. He groaned out and clutched his stomach. She swung her leg and striked the side of his jaw, watching as he fell to his knees. She finished it with a large stomp to the top of his spine, hearing a large crack and his screaming, him falling to the ground paralyzed.

She hacked into the vault again, running in and spotting the man. She dodged his poorly aimed shots, running up to him, cocking his gun out of his hand. She jumped up on his thigh, swinging her body around him, crossing her legs around his upper body. She abruptly grabbed a hold of his head, rotating it harshly with her legs and cocking into the back of his neck. She watched as he fell to a heap on the floor, seeing his labored breathing and shaking.

She found the other 2 smaller men, watching as they both stuffed money into their bags hurley. She ran up to the one behind the other, covering his mouth with more chloroform, the other man turning around and yelling out when he spotted her. She ran over to him, punching up into his nose, hearing the crack. He fell back onto the ground, grabbing for his face. She hit him several more times, before hitting into the middle of his throat.

She heard nothing as she left the room, heart spreading up due to the silence.

A shot takes in front of her, nearly missing it. She turned her head to the last man, watching as he ran up to her.

She kicked into the side of his face, jumping up his thighs and swinging her legs around his throat. She pulled him down onto the ground, letting out a yell when he grabbed onto her foot, slamming her into the ground. He got on top of her, closing his fists around her throat.

His hands let go as a gasp left him, looking down and seeing the knife in his gut. She drove the knife in further, throwing him off of her as he choked out blood.

She yanked the knife from him, watching as he struggled to cover the wound.

She waited until she heard nobody else, and started walking out the back, making sure to set off the alarm on her way out.

“I’m back, took a little longer than usual.” “Thank god, I was starting to worry for a bit.” He admitted, hand over his chest. “Yeah sorry about that, last guy was a little messy but I got it done. The police should be there any minute now.” She said, climbing back onto her bike. “Well just get back, you did good tonight bubs.” She let out a chuckle, “thanks dad, I’ll call you tomorrow, I love you.” “Love you too bubs.”

“That, was completely unclad for.” Bruce scolded, walking up to her when she got back. “What was? I didn’t do anything wrong?” She retorted, voice filled with anger. “What was wrong? You paralyzed 3, and killed one!” Damian yelled, walking over to her. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Yeah and? We have different methods. But it’s totally okay if you give them permanent brain damage. Last I checked, you don’t run this place like you think you do. So both of you shut the fuck up and let me do my thing.” She yelled, walking away from them.

“You insignificant hard headed-“ “id watch what you say Damian. you have no leg to stand on. You’re nothing but an arrogant thick skulled asshole who thinks he runs the world all because he’s got daddy’s money. You think you can talk to people however you want but get angry when we say something back. Well while everyone is to much of a fucking wimp to say anything to tou, I’m not. I don’t care what you say to me. But I’m done with you thinking your shit doesn’t stink and that you can walk all over me and say whatever you want. It’s time you grow the fuck up for once. You act like a spoiled child. Say whatever insult you want to me, I know you’re just mad because you're still attracted to me.” She spat, watching as his face went from anger to disgust. “I don’t want-“ “oh that’s bullshit Damian and you know it. I see the way you still look at me. That night when you ‘accidentally’ went into my room and passed out, I watched as you stared at me. You think I don’t notice but I do. But you’re to much of a fucking hardheaded prick to admit it.” She said, turning around and walked away.

The walls shake as he slams the door shut, the picture on his wall nearly falling off. His heart is pounding in his chest as he paces around the room, pulling at his hair as his breathing hardens. Anger courses through him the longer he thinks about it. ‘I don’t find her attractive anymore? How could I?’ But as quick as he thinks this, memories flash of her. Her skin glistening with water droplets, her hands trying to cover herself but he could still see her-‘stop it’ he tries telling himself. But the harder he tries the more came to him, it’s like he’s purposely trying to touture himself without his control. He can still feel the supple skin of her thigh in his hands as he kissed her. The feel of her body shaking slightly under him as he grinds his hardening-‘STOP’ he screams into his head.

He puts his hand against the wall, his other hand clutched in his hair tightly. His body feels the same warmth as before, only now his heart tremors inside of him the harder he fights.

He clenches his eyes shut as he tries to rid his mind of her. Flashes of training, fighting, anything he can think of to stop the loop of her. But as hard as he tries, the desire to think more about her grows.

The fire deep inside him grows the longer he fights it, it’s as if each time he pushes it down, the stronger it grows.

He lets out a shaky breath as he tries even harder to rid his mind. His hand clutching his hair until a small gasp leaves him.

The feel of her hands pulling at his hair as his lips were on hers play in his mind. The feeling of himself being pulled into her as he moaned in her mouth when she pulled it even harder between her slender fingers. The feeling of her nails scratching his scalp sends shivers down his body.

He slams his hand against the wall, pushing himself off of it and walking to the bathroom.

(Warning: smut)

The screeching of the water falling down the shower drowns out the sound of his breathing. His body shaking slightly as he undressed himself. A faint moan leaving him when he pulls his pants down his body. His length bobbing up to his body almost immediately. He could feel the low grade heartbeat inside of it, his body screaming to relieve the pressure.

A shuddering gasp leave his body when the freezing water makes contact with his warm skin, his body arching away from the freezing temperature. His heart beating rapidly as he tries to steady his breathing. A shudder leaving him as he tries stepping under the stream again.

The fire inside of him won’t die out even now, only growing strong again.

The freezing theme didn’t even work to get rid of his erection, only growing painful due to the blood flow.

He steps out of the stream to the opposite wall, feeling like he’ll puke due to the cold temperature. His body warming up again when the water was no longer on him.

He shakes as he fights off the thoughts of her again. Anger bubbling up inside him. Why can’t he stop? Why is he being so weak, giving into his mind and body was foran to him. Rarely he would let his mind wonder if he chose not to. But even with fighting it, the stronger the desire to keep going intensifies.

His left hand fists against the wall as his right hand clutches together at his side. The want inside of him screaming to just do it.

He hadn’t done it in years, not since he was 16. Even then, it wasn’t even enjoyable. He had no idea why he wanted to do it, no desire for anything but to relieve himself. No images or feeling playing in his mind when he did it, only the feeling was driving him to let go. Nothing close to how he’s feeling now.

His battle breaking the harder he tries not to think of her, his right hand shaking. A shudder leaving him when a water droplet rolls down his neck. The memory of her warm lips wrapped around his neck as her tongue kicks the skin.

A moan leaves him when his hand finally closes around his painfully hard cock, a shudder leaving him as he grips it in his hand. He breath shaking as he thrusts into his hand slowly. “F-fuck.” He moans out, his breath growing as he thrusts harder. The fire inside him growing as he goes faster, his teeth clenching as he starts moving his hand to meet his fastening thrusts.

Moans slip past his lips as he shuts his eyes, the feeling indescribably different from the last time he did this.

Images of her underneath him as he grinds into her-no. Not her. He still tries fighting the urge to think of her as his thrusts grow rapidly, his heart beating faster as his stomach starts clenching. His length growing more pressure as he squeezes even harder around it. “Oh, fuck.” He groans out. The images of her body shaking under him as he slips his tongue inside her mouth won’t stop, even when he tries blinking his mind of anything, just focusing on the feel of his cock slamming into his hand.

His legs nearly giving out as they shake trying to hold himself up. Momentarily stopping as he sits against the wall and resuming. The cold water infighting him further when it hits his legs. His body shaking as he fights off the impending orgasm that’s growing inside him. His moans growing in volume as he spreads up. Anger bubbles inside him the harder he tries fighting the thoughts of her, only getting more difficult the longer he goes.

His thrusts growing sloppy as his orgasm grows closer, a layer of sweat bearing down his face. He can’t keep holding it off as he feels his body tightening up.

He breaks his resolve as images of her moaning out under him as he thrusts inside her core, a loud groan leaving him when the pressure breaks. Groans leave him as the dam breaks as tremors overtake his body as waves of euphoria take over his body.

His heart pounds rapidly in his chest as he breathes heavily, shaking as shocks overtake him. Throwing his head against the wall, a shaking breath leaving him. “Fuck.”

[pluckyredhead]

Aristocrat and farmboy? Regency AU.

Anon, I squealed when I saw this prompt. This is SO self indulgent and I am very sure I got aristocratic titles, horses, and first aid all wrong. Do not use this as an instructional guide for wrapping a sprain, jumping a horse, or addressing the son of a duke!

-Damian, Lord Bristol, son of the Duke of Gotham, sat back in his saddle and surveyed the rolling fields before him, breathing in deeply. The part of his soul that thrilled at danger had loved the tangled warren that was Gotham City; the nights so black not even the stars could shine through it; the hidden alleys that dared the brave to walk down them alone. But he couldn’t deny the beauty of his father’s ancestral lands in Bristolshire, or how much better the air smelled here.

He had been away for too long - first at school, then university, then whiling away too many boring, pointless days in society. It was good to be back in the land that was his by birthright.

He clicked his tongue. “Come on, Goliath,” he said, kicking the big roan stallion into a gallop. “Take me home!”

They raced across the fields, so fast that Damian could tell Goliath was as happy as he was to be out of the city. Bent low over the horse’s neck, the wind in his face, it felt like flying.

That was, until a stone wall loomed unexpectedly before them, where no wall had ever been before.

Damian had only a split second to make a decision: take the dangerously high jump, or try to rein Goliath in and hope he could stop before they both crashed into the unforgiving stone?

He was a Wayne. He jumped.

They soared over the wall. Goliath landed perfectly.

Damian...did not.

He landed hard on his side, twisting his ankle beneath him. Swearing, he pushed himself to a seated position and carefully eased his leg in front of him to scowl at it. He didn’t think the ankle was broken, but he also wasn’t sure he could walk on it. Goliath slowed and walked back towards him with a surprised expression on his face.

“Yes, you stupid horse, I’m on the ground and not on you,” Damian said. “I’m not happy about it either.”

“Good heavens! Are you all right?” a voice called, and someone came running towards him - a peasant lad, stripped to the waist and holding a mortar-crusted trowel in one hand. Damian scowled.

“So you’re the imbecile building a wall on my father’s lands,” he said. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re playing at?”

The lad stared at him. “Damian?” Then he blushed and ducked his head. “Begging your pardon, Lord Bristol. I forgot.”

It was Damian’s turn to stare. “Jon? Is that you?”

He thought he was well within his rights to stare. When he’d left Bristolshire, Jon Kent had been the scrawny ten-year-old son of one of his father’s tenant farmers. Damian had made a habit of escaping his tutors and running wild across the fields with Jon, knocking over haymows and stealing from the larder and generally causing trouble.

Now Jon - for it was he; there was no mistaking those startling violet eyes - was clearly at least a hand taller and two stone heavier than Damian, with shoulders broadened by honest work. His bare chest was flushed with exertion and the sun, and his dark hair curled sweat-damp across his forehead.

“Aye, Lord Bristol, it’s me,” he said. “Your father mentioned you’d be coming home soon.”

The reference to his father reminded Damian that Jon, whether significantly larger and more strapping than anticipated or not, had almost killed him. “Oh, really?” he sneered. “And did he mention that you should build a blasted wall right across this pasture and nearly kill his only begotten heir?”

“Well, yes,” Jon said. “I mean, not the part about killing you, but he did ask me to build the wall. His cattle have been getting loose to drink from the stream.” He jerked a thumb at the rippling water that bordered the pasture.

That rather took the wind out of Damian’s sails. “Oh,” he said. “Well. He should have told me.”

“No doubt he meant to, my lord, when you arrived home.” Jon wasn’t meeting his eyes, but if his expressions meant the same thing now they had when he was ten, he was trying not to laugh.

“Indeed,” Damian said. “Since you’re here, do something useful with yourself and go and fetch Pennyworth. I can’t walk on this ankle. It’s sprained.”

“I can help you to the manor, my lord,” Jon said. “But you should bind that sprain, first. It’ll be worse if you wait.” He looked around him as if bandages and perhaps a handy bottle of laudanum would suddenly spring up out of the clover. Unsurprisingly, none manifested. The boy was barely clothed as it was; spare fabric was not about to present itself.

“Ugh,” Damian said. “Here.” He unwound his cravat. It was the finest linen that could be had in Gotham City, but sometimes one must sacrifice for the cause. “You’ll have to help me with the boot.”

Jon’s eyes seemed to take a long time to shift from Damian’s newly bare throat to his face. “You used to be able to take your own shoes off,” he said, with amusement dancing in his eyes that was more familiar than this sudden deference.

“It’s the fashion to wear things cut tightly nowadays,” Damian informed him haughtily.

Jon looked him up and down. “I can see that,” he said. Then he coughed, and looked away, and Damian suddenly felt very hot.

He thrust his injured foot at Jon. “Well?” he said. “Go ahead.”

Jon took Damian’s foot in his hands, which were much bigger than Damian remembered them. “This is going to hurt,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

He was right. It was clear that Jon was being as gentle as possible, but Damian still cursed a blue streak as the boot slid reluctantly over his swollen ankle. Jon’s sympathetic winces gradually gave way to a grin.

“What part of this is funny, pray tell?” Damian asked.

Jon shook his head. “You always could swear like a sailor when we were children. I supposed you haven’t completely changed.”

“I haven’t changed a bit,” Damian said. “You’re the one who’s changed.”

The boot came free. Jon set it aside and looked up to meet Damian’s eyes, Damian’s stockinged foot resting in his cupped palm. “Have I, then?” he asked.

Damian opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Jon ducked his head and rolled down Damian’s stocking. The ankle was already swelling and darkening to an angry red; Damian expected greens and purples in his future.

“Can you move it?” Jon asked.

Damian gritted his teeth and forced his ankle in a circle. The sweat stood out on his brow, but the foot moved. “It’s not broken.”

“Good.” Jon took the cravat from him, then sat up straighter. “Oh! Wait here,” he said, and bounded up and across the field like a sheepdog.

“Where am I meant to go?” Damian called after him.

Jon didn’t go far, just to the stream. When he came back, the cravat was soaked with stream water, which was the end of Damian wearing it around his neck, but by now he didn’t care. He just wanted to be lying in his room with a glass of brandy and no confusingly large and gentle childhood friends looking at him with striking violet eyes.

Jon sat on his heels and put Damian’s bare foot in his lap. “This will hurt again,” he warned, and began binding Damian’s ankle with sure, steady hands. He was right again, but the coolness of the wet linen helped considerably. Perhaps he wasn’t a total fool after all.

“How did you learn to do this?” Damian asked, to distract himself from the sight of Jon’s fingers on his bare foot. “Helping the village doctor?”

Jon’s smile was wicked. “No, my father. Cows and sheep can be so clumsy.”

Damian’s brows lowered. “When this ankle heals, I shall kick you very hard.”

“I look forward to it.” Jon let Damian’s bound foot rest in his lap. “How’s that?”

Damian considered. The pain had faded to something dull and manageable, and the binding would keep the swelling down. “Serviceable, I suppose. Now will you fetch Pennyworth and tell him to bring something with wheels?”

“Why?” Jon asked. “I can carry you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

In answer, Jon gently moved Damian’s foot off of his lap, then stood up, bent down, and, over the noise of Damian’s protests, lifted Damian into his arms like a bride. Damian yelped and snatched at his discarded boot as he was lifted off the ground.

“See?” Jon asked, beaming triumphantly into Damian’s face.

Damian tsked. “I concede that you can lift me, but it’s a twenty minute walk to the manor. I refuse to be dropped.”

Jon rolled his eyes and started walking. “I won’t drop you. You hardly weigh anything.”

“I’m a grown man!”

“Believe me, I’m not denying that.” Jon somehow managed to shrug with Damian in his arms. “I’m rather strong.”

Damian had noticed - it was impossible not to notice, cradled in Jon’s bare arms like this, that the friend he used to repeatedly trounce at wrestling wasn’t even straining to hold him - but this was ludicrous. He might not be as oversized as Jon, but he was no airy nothing, either. Clandestine brawls in the back alleys of Gotham City had seen to that.

“I am your lord and master and I command you to put me down!” he barked.

Jon froze. “You’re right,” he said, and let Damian’s legs slide slowly to the ground, until he was balanced on his uninjured one. To his humiliation, he wobbled badly and had to cluck at Goliath to come over and clutch his saddle to keep his balance.

“I forgot myself, my lord,” Jon went on. His jaw was tense - no more teasing smile - but he didn’t argue. How could he? “A childhood acquaintance should not have made me presume above my station. I only wished to help. I will fetch Mr. Pennyworth, as you have bidden.” He bowed and started to walk away.

“Wait.”

Jon stopped, and Damian chewed at his lower lip, thinking. He was irritated with Jon, and with his father, and with himself for not having seen that wall in time. His foot ached and his head was beginning to as well, and he didn’t think spending more time with Jon would make him feel any less unsettled and irritable.

But he didn’t want Jon to leave, either. And he particularly didn’t want Jon to leave hurt.

“Pennyworth is ancient,” he said finally. “There’s no need to make him come all this way on a hot day if you really think you can bear my weight.”

“No, Lord Bristol,” Jon said, but he didn’t move.

Damian sighed. “Will you carry me, please?” he asked. It cost him less than he would have thought.

“Yes, Lord Bristol,” Jon said, and picked him up again. Damian clucked again and Goliath followed obediently behind them.

Damian glanced up at Jon, who was looking straight ahead. His jaw was still tense. “And another thing,” he said. Jon’s eyelids flickered, but he didn’t look down. “Dispense with this ‘Lord Bristol’ nonsense, would you? If ducking you in the water trough all those times when we were boys didn’t teach you respect, I don’t see any point in attempting it now.”

Finally Jon looked at him, and he was smiling again. Damian’s head hurt worse, but somehow he didn’t mind. “As I recall, I was the one who was ducking you.”

Damian shook his head. “Sad,” he said. “Does your mother know you’ve suffered this grievous memory loss? Too many cows kicking you in the head?”

Jon’s laugh rumbled through his chest, and Damian felt it in his whole body. “I missed you, Damian,” he said.

The words I missed you too were too hard to say and Jon’s smile was too hard to look at, so Damian pointed his gaze towards the distant Wayne Manor and let his weight settle in his friend’s arms. “Yes, I imagined you would,” he said, and Jon’s laugh carried them home.

-

(Does Jon have super strength or is he just implausibly built? Is Lois secretly printing seditious pamphlets about overthrowing the aristocracy? THE WORLD MAY NEVER KNOW.)

[rosegoldannie]

Feysand Bachelor Au Part 1

Hey! Sorry it’s so short, I have a busy week, but will update more soon! Masterlist

“Isaac, don’t you dare!” I screeched, lunging across the couch towards him, though I missed wildly, careening onto the floor with a barked curse as pain sparked up my tailbone, courtesy of the hardwood flooring.

He gave a devious grin. “Too late,” He jeered, showing his phone screen. “I just sent in your application.” I groaned, covering my face with my hands, my hair falling in a curtain around my shoulders. Several silent moments passed, until a warm hand came to rest on my back. “Hey-” Instantly, I shoved him off, and leaped to my feet, blood roiling within my veins, begging and aching to release destruction upon the world.

“Don’t hey me, Hale.” I hissed, crossing my arms. 

Isaac flinched. “Look, I…” he sighed, throwing his hands up in exasperation, eyes roving around the room. “I’m just trying to help, alright?”

“By the cauldron! Why must you insist upon helping me? Is it Elain, huh? Did she tell you to do this?” Internally, I recoiled at the thought, even as a small part of me hoped that to be the case.

 “No! So quit acting as if you’ve already been chosen. All I did was send in an application.”

Feeling the tide of my emotions ebb slightly, even as a flicker of disappointment nipped at me, I allowed myself a moment to breathe. “Yeah. Yeah, I probably won’t even be considered.”

If only I’d known how wrong I was.

Two months later, I found myself in California, in a bathroom larger than the house in which I’d grown up in being pampered and prepared by Hollywood’s best, all the while cursing Isaac Hale and his insatiable need to insert himself into my life.

“Ah, here we go!” A man I knew to be Andras exclaimed, holding up a silky-black dress. “Time to get ready.” He chirped, laying it over the chair beside me.

I scoffed, fighting the urge to roll my eyes, lest one of the women tirelessly applying my makeup swat at me. Again. “Get ready? Haven’t I been doing that for four hours?” As expected, I was then swatted at. I promptly clenched my jaw, fighting back several crude comments.

Sighing, I cast my eyes out the large windows towards the setting sun, which set the world aflame as it said its last goodbyes for the night, and wished I was anywhere but here. Where cat-fights and petty girl drama would undoubtedly start immediately. Where I would most definitely be sent home within the first few days, if not by the end of the evening. Oh well, seeing as I had taken several weeks of vacation for this, at least I’d have a few weeks of blissful painting.

At last, my makeup was finished, and I was freed from that damned chair in which I had been perched for hours. The staff quickly vacated the room, allowing me privacy to change.

Discarding my dressing robe, I slid into my dress and savored the feel of the silky material against my skin, fully aware that this was the most expensive thing I had ever, and most likely will ever, wear. Padding over to the large mirror which occupied nearly an entire wall, I paused, taking a moment to let my appearance sink in.

The body of my gown was both beaded and fitted, reflecting the golden lights and highlighting my thin figure, the result of years of ballet. The skirt was a gorgeous tulle, with small gems sewn into it, that fared out at my waist. Upon closer inspection, I discovered that my gown was not, in fact, black, but rather a very deep violet which matched very well with my eyes.

The door creaked open, and I glanced over to find my beauty-team returning. An assistant stepped over to me and pulled a pin out of my hair, allowing it to tumble in soft, styled waves down my back. 

Glancing again to the mirror, I found that I looked less like a scrawny 22-year old, and more like a woman. For once, I found myself proud of my reflection, rather than dismayed.

Suddenly, Andras reappeared out of nowhere with a box tucked under his arm, which he revealed to be gold, strappy heels. Inwardly, I cringed at the thought of wearing them for the entire evening, but I forced a tight smile, and thanked him.

Just as soon as I had finished lacing them up and mentally cursing the blisters I could already feel forming, two members of the production crew whisked me off to a black limo, telling me something about being the last girl to introduce herself. I cursed violently, internally planning out what I was going to say, how I wanted to come across. 

Come to think of it, how did I want to come across?

Did I want to be sultry?

A goofball?

Artistic?

Ditzy?

I muttered a low curse as they hooked a microphone onto me, now well aware that whatever I said would be broadcasted across the Nation, and I would be judged accordingly.

At the thought, my stomach gave a wild twist, threatening to spill the grilled cheese sandwich I’d eaten for lunch. I nearly chuckled at the thought of being sick upon the poor man being forced to meet over twenty-five girls, then frowned upon realizing that if I wanted to have an actual shot at winning, I had to beat out twenty-four people.

Leaning forward with a groan, I poured myself a generous glass of champagne, and took a large gulp. Outside, the sun had set completely, and the moon was now high in the sky. Given how far we were from the city, I could clearly see the stars above, even through the tinted windows of the limo. 

The Mansion slowly came into view in all its ornate glory. Large spotlights shone upon it, making it stand out against the cliffs behind it.

I found myself pressed against the window, champagne flute in hand, trying to catch a glimpse of my bachelor.

The limo came to a stop just before the walkway, though I was unable to catch a glimpse of the man as he was obscured by several columns. I set down my drink, and took a deep breath, smoothing out my hair and gown and forcing down my nerves, before opening the door and stepping out into the blissfully chilled night.

My heels clicked majestically against the stone walkway, as I strode forward with my head held high and my skirts clutched tight in my hand. I knew my hair was flowing behind me from the warm breeze that so contrasted the chilly air.

As I at last rounded the corner, I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second to shove down the fears and worries biting at my mind, then continued forward to meet this mystery man.

The moment I saw him, I was struck speechless by how simply gorgeous he was. Soft, inky hair was effortlessly styled in a way that complemented his tanned skin, sharp cheekbones, and even sharper jawline. And, gods, his eyes. They sparkled as if they held a thousand galaxies in their depths. My fingers itched, no, ached, for a pencil and paper.

It was at that moment that I realized I had been unabashedly staring at him, and embarrassment colored my cheeks pink.

It was then I realized he, too, had been staring, though far more obvious than I, as his jaw was now slightly ajar. I chuckled, feeling my nerves vanish, along with any sense of formality. Sticking out my hand, I murmured, “I’m Feyre.”

I nearly fainted when he took my hand in his, and savored the warmth it gave off. His grip was firm, but gentle, as were his calloused fingers, I noted with a hint of surprise.

He smiled dazzlingly at me. “Hello, Feyre Darling. I’m Rhys.”

Hey! I need a name for this fic, so if you have any ideas feel free to comment them. If you want to be tagged in this, please comment or reblog!

Tag list: @mu-si-ca-l @poisonous00 @togswiftie @illyrian-bookworm @commodorejamie @firethebluesky @dressedindustandshadows @iamthebonecarver @thesirenwashere 

[ghostlykay]

You write for Nubbins?? If so, could you write Nubbins x (female) S/O cuddling, or anything fluff? Thank you!

I will ALWAYS write for Nubbins because he is SUCH a guilty pleasure. Thank you so much for sending this in, @slashxr !!

Warning(s): nothing atypical of Canon. Long post under ‘read more’!

There were sparse moments when the house fell into utter stillness. Even evenings usually were interrupted by something. Bubba’s steps fell with power, his staggering pace sounded unabashed as he tended to one of the household tasks regardless of hour. Drayton, on the other hand, rarely interrupted the night. Having perhaps the only set work hours out of the entire family, he���d bark at the others to “shut their yaps” and “mind his beauty sleep”. It’d occasionally earn him your silent approval as you preferred to sleep undisturbed too. 

Nubbins, however, was at all odds with his sleep, his labors, his everything. At some forsaken hour, he’d once enter the home with all the grace of blundering cattle, howling for Bubba, who thundered over to meet him with squealing giddiness. Drayton, shortly thereafter, had been screaming at them, the threat of beating them both high in the air. Whether they succumbed to the promised bludgeoning, you never found out. Sadly, just as your muscles eased back into a molding mattress, an erratic rapping sounded at your door. 

                                                           Record timing. 

You momentarily considered ignoring the knocking in lieu of some well-deserved rest, but as the tapping began to crescendo, you figured it would be better to answer than risk Drayton’s temper. It wasn’t uncommon for one of the brothers to inevitably wind their way up to your room anyways; after all, as a technical victim of the Sawyer family, you weren’t exactly in a position to deny their visits. Sometimes, it was Bubba, simply dropping off a twisted trinket with a happy babble. Every now and again, it was Drayton himself. Rarely, though. It only seemed he felt the need to pervade your room when his paranoia had unjustly spiked. And, at odd times, it was the visitor who graced your doorway now: Nubbins, as he twitched and grinned unabashedly at your arrival. 

“Good evening, Nubbins,” you murmured, a tired smile splitting your features at his anxious demeanor.

“Oh, hey--hey there. You ain’t busy, right? Got somethin’ I need to show you.” 

Beady eyes darted seemingly anywhere but at you, twitching eyelids blinking rapidly while fingertips jerked and twisted with unseen thoughts. 

“For you? I’m always free,” you replied kindly, already reaching for the sheer robe to cover the thin flannel of your sleepwear. Folding the stolen fabric over your body, you found the Sawyer man had risked a glance at you before turning away. Arching arms beckoned for you to follow. You stifled the urge to giggle at his theatrics, and as directed, trailed after him. Although he seemed nearly playful in his erraticism, you couldn’t shake the inkling that he was trying his best to not look at you. Peek at you, yes, but whenever his own twitchy gaze met yours, it flustered him; actions turned even more nervous. So much so that when you caught his side-stare while pulling the attic’s ladder down, he almost startled, hands suddenly finding the simple latch very difficult to grasp and pull. 

“Nubbins, let me---” You offered, only for him to shove your raised hand from him, muttering unintelligibly under his breath. While your lips pursed, he seemed far more agitated at himself than your offer. Despite his erratic nature, you couldn’t help the admiration for him you harbored close. 

From a young age, you’d always a hunger for the…..odd. Rather, you were fascinated by the grotesque, the occult even. When your original art piece was shown to your parents, they’d been disgusted by the morbid colors, the unsightly sprawl, and overall abstract imagery of what you’d titled as “Death”. Though no solid shapes had formed on the canvas, as it was a school project, your inspiration was clear. You recalled fondly the research that had been put into that piece; the wonderful, gritty photos stolen from the library of picked apart bones, plucked eyes, and even the morbid, partially censored criminal shots of victims long passed. “Anthropology” had been your cover-up field for the darker passions behind these interests. In reality, it was just a warped pleasure of yours. 

                   A pleasure Nubbins encouraged with giddy delight and relished. 

Despite his previous dismissal, crooked hands grasped wildly at yours, dragging you up into the dusty space before leading you through another hatch, and then finally settling you onto the roof beside him. You’d expected the motive behind his clutching interest to be another art piece. After all, he’d been surprisingly quiet for a spell. The alarming change from the week prior, where he’d been threatened to be belted by Drayton personally for all his spastic energy, to this one where he’d sat through dinner with only drumming fingertips and absent staring was offputting. You’d meant to ask him what had been on his mind. You really had. But, every time you’d sought him out, he’d disappear into thin air. Bubba, bless his heart, had yammered out various reasons when you’d asked his whereabouts, but whether he was informing you of his location or covering for him, you never knew. 

                                       “You ain’t ever leavin’.” 

You arched a brow at that. This was nothing new to you; they couldn’t risk you outside their watchful eye. Period. You’d honestly long abandoned the idea of escaping anyways. What point was there to return to a world where your passions were discouraged?

“And---and, well, since you’s not goin’ nowhere---well, you know, ain’t nowhere out of here---without us---I been thinkin’. Well, not us.You know, not them, but just us, y’know?” 

You didn’t know. It didn’t help that, while he spoke in a stuttered afterthought, he was desperately pawing at himself. He must have finally found the object of his frenzied searching because, after a long pull of silence, a thin box was forced into your hands. Though the tilt of confusion never left your features, you slowly brought the parcel up to your gaze. Under the moonlight, you noted that it must have once been a silver shade, the metallic paint on it having long since faded. You supposed the scrawl along the front must’ve been your name, and although the spelling was somewhat off, you felt your cheeks flush at the sentiment. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, already beaming at the fact he was giving you a gift. 

                   “Don’t th-thank me. Not--not yet! Open it!” 

You obliged, gasping. Inside, folded on top of parchment, a thin, iron chain ended with a heavy pendant. Encased in ivory bone fragments, the locket held a polished, tawny stone in its center. It reflected the starry night’s dazzling eyes beautifully. While carefully cut bone-fragments circled the center jewel in a pattern akin to a ribcage, gentle fingers flicked it open, wonderstruck that it opened with such ease. Protected by the elements, a single photo was crammed haphazardly under the rim. With a little maneuvering, you were able to pull it free, unfolding it quickly, and feeling a warm surge of adoration at the image in hand. 

                                       By first glance, it meant nothing. 

However, the atmosphere told a domestic tale. Drayton sat comfortably, if begrudgingly in the corner. His grizzled features rarely strayed from that disgruntled look, but for Nubbins’ amusement, he had flashed him a wry, side smile. Bubba was poking bits of meat through the chicken’s cage, and though no sound could be heard, she was certain he was cooing (as he did) at the clucking bird. Unlike Drayton, he seemed unaware of the photography session. Probably for the better, you mused. Poor Bubba got so flustered when it came to his picture being taken. Then, there was Nubbins, the camera man himself. While part of his face was cut off, his wild-eyed grin was unabashed, present, and peering directly into what must’ve been a blinding flash.

Then, there was you in the background. A member to the madness. Apart of the family. 

You vaguely remembered him taking the photo, but you couldn’t recall your thoughts in the moment. You could feel the flush of heat rise to your cheeks, a sudden wave of sentiment stinging your eyes.

“ I--I been thinkin’, since you’re not goin’ nowhere, and neither am I, thought....well, I thought you’d be my girl? I’m the best lookin’ one of these sorry sons of a----”                       

He didn’t finish. You didn’t let him. In an instant, you pounced on top of him, one arm looped around his neck while the other clutched his present into your chest. He startled at the feeling of your lips upon his, hands scrabbling to grasp at your shoulders in obvious surprise. 

                                       His hesitation didn’t last. 

Lips moved against yours in clumsy passion. His fingertips found purchase in your hair, knotting in their grasp and desperately pulling you closer, drawing you partially onto his scrawny lap. Breaths stuttered. His tongue lapped at yours, begging to deepen the kiss, in which you parted your lips, allowing him to. You were oblivious to the cutting edge of cardboard into your bosom, the need for air, everything. It wasn’t until Nubbins withdrew a hair’s breadth away to plant a series of feather-light pecks to your throat did you remember anything, remembered he needed an answer. Despite your keening desire, you pushed him away. 

“Is that not a-a ‘yes’?” He huffed against your skin, hawk nose settled in the crook of your neck.  

“Of course, it’s a yes,” you laughed before pulling him to yet another kiss.

[squirrel-moose-winchester]

Falling for the Holidays Ch. 25

Title: Falling for the Holidays Ch. 25

Pairing: Dean x Reader AU

Word Count: 2223

Summary: With October ending and the holidays underway, that only meant one thing for Dean Winchester. It meant returning to his childhood home and spending time with his family. It meant listening to his parents, especially his mom, ramble on and on about when he was going to find himself a nice girl, bring her home for the holidays, and then eventually get married and have children.  However, Dean wasn’t ready for that sort of commitment, so in order to get his family off his back, he comes up with an elaborate scheme! But like the saying goes, “sometimes lies become truths.”

Warnings: Angst, Gun, Usage of Gun, Unsafe Gun Handling, Angst, Endangerment to a young child, Fear, Wounded, and Angst. 

A/N: Dudettes! Get this… once I finished this chapter, I giggled to myself and then proceeded to say, “ooh, Eileen! You fucking bitch!” But like in a good way. Haha. I am so excited for you guys to read this chapter! I will admit, it was a little tough because I didn’t know how to word it, and I’m worried that it might be a little confusing to comprehend what I was trying to get across… but I hope I’m wrong and that you guys will like it! I can’t wait to read all your reactions! So please, feedback would be amazing! I’d love to know what you all thought of this chapter and the series! Thanks again for reading! You guys are beautiful! xx

--

On his way to the Winchester’s home, Rufus had called in a crime scene back at the diner. Things had just dropped into some deep shit. As he pulled into the drive way, John was already opening the door and stepping out to greet him.

“Rufus, what’s wrong?” John asked, allowing the sheriff into his home.

“Things just got serious, and I know you wanted to keep this on the down low, but I had to call my men to take care of things back at the diner,” he informed, taking a seat at the dining table where Mary and Jess were already waiting. “Mary’s car is still there, and I might have, literally, stumbled over some important evidence.”

“What kind of evidence?” John asked, his stomach churning.

“I don’t want to alarm anyone, but I think I found a possible weapon. There was blood on a large rock next to the car, and I’m sure your boys probably found it too. We don’t know who’s blood it is yet, but my men are on it,” Rufus assured.

Mary’s hands covered her mouth with fear in her eyes. Jess wrapped her arms around Mary tightly, burying her face into the older woman’s shoulder. “How long would it take until we find out who’s blood it is?” Mary asked.

“We’re working as fast as we can. I’d say four hours at the least, could be more. But our forensic team is one of the best, so rest assured. We’re gonna figure it out.”

Mary nodded while John just gave Rufus an understanding glare. “So what do we do now?” John asked.

“We need to find your boys ASAP. Ketch… he’s a real bad guy. I knew the name was familiar. To be honest, I’m surprised the boy wasn’t walking around with an alias. Probably thought since it’s been a long time, no one would notice. Especially around here.”

“What are you talking about, Rufus. Details. I need details,” John encouraged.

“I was getting there. Just hold your horses,” he sassed, earning a pointed look from the worried father bear in front of him. “Look, his full name is Arthur Ketch. He is in a line of work that can get many people hurt. He’s what you can call a collector,” Rufus placed the witness sketch on the table, revealing a pretty honest drawing of the felon. He looked a little different. His face was slimmer, hair a little longer and shaggier, but it was still easy to tell it was him.

“He collects things and sells them in the International Underground Black Market. Sometimes they get clients who reach out to them to obtain a certain object, or objects, in exchange for a hefty sum. People like him will do anything to get what they want. And I mean anything. We caught scent of him a few years back. Almost got him, but the kid was fast. Young, scrawny, and could get through all sorts of spaces. Eventually, the case was out of our hands because the Bureau figured he’d moved on. One thing is for sure, men like Ketch never stay in one place for too long. I don’t know what he would be doing back here.”

“Because he’s a stalker. Probably followed Y/N here, using that family bullshit as an excuse,” the words flowed out of Jess’s lips without a care of filter.

“Stalkers aren’t right in the head. And not only that, this man is a practically a serial killer. He’s left body all over the world. Didn’t even bother to clean up his messes, and he didn’t have to. No one could ever trace him.”

“It’s almost Christmas and all this is happening,” Mary started to sob. “My boys are in danger and Y/N could be dead.”

“How did you get this drawing of him?” John interceded the direction of the conversation.

“Remember Pastor Jim? That break in at the church? Ketch was after an old goblet that was claimed to be used for demonic rituals. An ancient relic used to communicate with the devil. Pastor Jim had it locked away in a safe under the church. Ketch managed to steal it and left Jim for dead, but thankfully the medics got to him on time.”

“But didn’t Pastor Jim pass away?” Mary questioned.

“That he did, but before that, he was able to give a description.”

“Why didn’t we hear anything about this?” John inquired.

“This case was classified by the FBI. They have been tracking these Collectors all over the world, but it’s difficult. You see, there is no pattern. There is never a witness. And if there was, someone came back to get rid of any loose ends, just like they did Jim. These Collectors, they’ve got friends in low and high places. It almost seems impossible,” Rufus sighed. “I don’t know how the FBI is dealing with it, but all I know is that they are.”

John sat back in his seat, running his hands down his face, trying to absorb all the information he’s been given. How could something go from zero to a hundred so fast?

“If this man is as dangerous as you say, and he’s stalking Y/N, then my boys are in danger. They all are. They all could already be dead,” Mary cried.

The room was tense at Mary’s words. It was possible. It very well may be, but they needed to be hopeful. They needed to think positive. They needed to find them.

“Don’t be like that Mary. We don’t know nothin’ yet. We need to find your boys first. Jody said that when Y/N went to get her purse at the diner, Lisa and Ketch were having lunch. That they seemed to know each other. So I’m gonna go pay Lisa a little visit. It’s possible that Lisa is also in danger.”

“Or maybe Lisa’s in with that Ketch guy,” Jess hissed, Lisa and Ketch’s name leaving a bad taste in her mouth.

“None sense. Lisa maybe crazy, but she’s still a good girl. She wouldn’t do something like that. She wouldn’t put Dean, or any of my boys in trouble. She wouldn’t bring such a dangerous man near Ben.”

“We’re gonna find out,” Rufus added.

“And I’m coming with you,” John insisted.

“I’m sorry John, but I can’t let you do that. This is a job for the police. Besides, you’ve got two frightened women here at home that needs you. Also, I need you here in case Sam, Dean, or Y/N comes back. Give me a call if they do, alright?” Rufus stood up from his seat as John nodded in agreement. “Don’t worry, everything is going to be alright.”

The sound of tires screeching against the pavement drew Ketch, Lisa, and Bela’s attention. Thinking quick on his feet, Ketch put his hands behind his head and fell to his knees beside your unconscious body. Lisa and Bela gave him with a confused look, the gun still pointed at him.

The door burst open, splinters flying through the air from the force of Dean’s foot. When Sam and Dean came into view, Lisa and Bela went wide eyes, while Ketch’s stoic expression turned into that of fear. “What the hell is going on here?” Dean barked, taking in the sight before him.

“H-help me, please!” Ketch shouted, his voice shaking with terror.

“Bela drop the gun,” Sam said calmly, arms out to show that he wasn’t going to try anything.

“No. This guy is a psychopath!” The tall brunette spat.

Dean’s eyes landed on your motionless body on the couch, next to where Ketch was on his knees. “Y/N!” Dean yelped, rushing over to her. “What the happened to her?” Dean shot Ketch a deadly glare, sitting beside her at the edge of the couch.

“I’ll tell you anything you want. I’m innocent, I swear,” Ketch blurted. “It’s true. You’re not Ben’s father. I am,” Ketch revealed, Lisa’s eyes going wide.

Dean sent Ketch a surprised look before quickly turning his head to glare at Lisa, his eyes hard and accusing. “Is that true? Ketch is the father?” Lisa was at a loss for words. She didn’t know what to say. When her lips parted to speak, Dean cute her off. “And this time, don’t you dare lie to me!”

“H-he’s lying,” Lisa continued her deceptions.

“I’m telling you the truth,” Ketch jumped in. “Years ago, I met the two of them at a party. We were all a little drunk, and they both came on to me. I was young back then. How was I supposed to pass up that kind of opportunity? Months later, Lisa contacted me, telling me about the baby.”

“Shut up Ketch!” Lisa barked.

Ketch caster her a wary glance, thinking if he should continue, but he took the chance anyway. “I couldn’t be a father, and I know that makes me a terrible man, but I had my dream job waiting for me back in London. I was young and had a bright future. A baby was the last thing on my mind. But I told her I’d pay the child support, and I have been since, but she wanted more. She wanted Ben to have a father. A good father that would be there for him. So she came up with this elaborate scheme to make you believe that Ben was yours. She told me that if I helped her get back with you, I would no longer have to pay the child support and that she’d leave me alone forever. The only thing that was in the way was Y/N. And by coincidence, the last time I was in Lawrence, Y/N and I ended up on the same flight heading over to Dallas, and having the seats next to each other.”

“Lies! You’re a liar!” Lisa shouted, snatching the gun from Bela’s hand and pointing it back at Ketch. “Shut up.” If Lisa wanted anyone to believe her, she was doing a shit job. Every word she said, every move she made, all of it only made her look guilty.

“Lisa!” Bela was startled. Bela never had any intentions of hurting Ketch. She wasn’t about to get blood on her hands. But when Lisa took the gun from her, she knew how unstable Lisa was. How desperate she was.

“Whoa,” Sam raised his hands up out of instincts.

Ketch watched Lisa, and Dean could see the hesitation in his eyes. Dean didn’t want to believe it, but he felt like he could believe Ketch more than he could Lisa.

“Lisa, put the gun down,” Dean said calmly, despite his anger stirring inside of him.

“No,” she spat, pointing the gun at Ketch. She’s never held a gun before. One slip and she could shoot anyone… kill any one.

“Lisa…” Dean warned.

The room was silent before Ketch took a chance and spoke again. If worse came to worse, he could use Dean as a shield.

“Like I said…” Ketch started, “Y/N caught us talking about it and ran off. Lisa got impatient and panicked and chased after her. She hit her over the head with a rock. Y/N’s been out ever since. We brought her back here and I patched her up.”

“Why not call the police, or bring her to the hospital?” Sam asked.

“I thought she would be okay, that I could patch her up and she’d wake up soon, but when she did, I suggested we go to the hospital, but Lisa refused. And when I mentioned the police, they freaked out and pulled a gun out on me. And that’s when you and your brother showed up.”

“Liar!” Lisa shouted, her grip on the gun tightening.

“Mom! Look what I made!” Ben shouted, trampling down the stairs, interrupting the intensity of the current situation and startling his mother.

BANG! Her finger slipped.

Ben jumped, his scream piercing through the house! Lisa dropped the gun and it fired a second time. Everyone cowered at the sound. Sam noticed the gun and quickly grabbed it to ensure it didn’t get into the wrong hands. Bela was the first person to reach Ben, the young boy curling into her arms crying. Ketch closed in on himself a little, his hands still up where they could see it, but he was fine.

“Any one hurt?” Sam asked, scanning the room.

“Sammy?” Dean choked, a dark spot spreading in the middle of his gray shirt as blood dribbled down the side of his lips.

“Dean!” Sam shouted. “Someone call 9-1-1!”

Dean watched Sam approach him, sliding the gun in the back of his pants under his shirt. He could see Sam talking but all he could hear was a high pitched ringing sound. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. He saw Ben and Bela wrapped up in each other, he saw Lisa staring at him with wide eyes, and he could see Ketch getting up.

“S-Sam—” Dean gurgled.

“Dean! Dean! Hang in there! Please! Dean! Someone! Call 9-1-1! Ketch, please!” Sam begged, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Ketch got up, dialing 9-1-1 on his phone. As Ketch made the call, Sam leaned his brother against the couch on the floor. Dean turned his head to face you, still out cold.

“Y-Y/N…” he called, and then everything went dark.

--

Like it? Reblog it! Share it! Leave feedback! It’s my fuel and any writer’s fuel! Also, I would highly appreciate it! :)

Say Something Nice Here!

[knightofameris]

the calm into the storm — infinity war

Setting: Immediately after the snap in IW Gender: None? Or Neutral ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Contains: Lots of death (teenagers, adults) blood, I guess the stuff I wrote counts as OC’s. Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: The world was calm, it continued to exist as the UN hid what happened to Tony Stark to the world and what was happening in Wakanda. But people continued to live life, knowing that whatever was happening, if something was going to happen, the world would be alright as long as they had the Avengers. Or at least whoever was left over. However, the repercussions of the Avengers’ loss would be felt by the people of the world, and it was too late for them to even realize.

a/n: Let me know if there are any mistakes! (rest at the end)

Enjoy! [respot from old account]

❝ i like these calm moments before the storm. it reminds me of Beethoven ❞ — gary oldman

Stars. The shining dots that brighten our sky in the darkest of nights. No matter what the time of day is, they’re always there, always with us. They shine bright or they’re hidden from our own star’s light. There’s beauty hidden behind each of them; an unknown story that has yet to be told. From their gaseous births to their flickering deaths. The stars are wondrous things; as are the moons and planets and just about everything in this universe.

Stars. That’s all Valkyrie could see. That’s all she hoped she would see as her and the other escape pods set off towards Earth.

Her stomach was filled with emptiness and uneasiness. Her jaw clenched as she thought about what most likely happened to Thor and Loki. The ship had exploded; no one could’ve survived that. She didn’t even receive any calls from the two brothers and it’d been days.

Perhaps she should’ve told them her name, her real name. Brunnhilde. She figured they’d know who she was, that she’d be able to fight what’s-his-name and save Asgard.

“This isn’t about fighting and winning,” Thor responded to Brunhilde’s want to fight. “This is about saving the people of Asgard and ensuring their safety. I trust you to keep them safe.”

Brunnhilde shook her head at the memory. She turned around to face the people only to bump into a solid body of rocks.

“Whoop, sorry there,” Korg said. “At least I didn’t step on you, otherwise you’d be dead.” Brunnhilde rolled her eyes at the comment before walking around him. Uneasy Asgardian eyes looked up at her and something pulled at her in her chest. The amount of pain and battle these Asgardians had gone through the past few weeks have been more than any normal civilian should be going through. But they did.

“You know, I think they need a little something to be uplifting,” Korg motioned towards the people. “After their planet being blown up and their king most likely dead, they do need a new leader.”

Brunnhilde turned to face Korg with a stern look etched on her face. “But I’m not a leader. I’m a Valkyrie. All I need to do is keep them safe until we reach Midgard.” And she walked off into the crowd of people.

But something set her off when she felt a chill go through her. All the talking on the pod ceased but pained gasps and short screams replaced it. The sudden imagery of people fading into ash, it stunned Brunnhilde. Her people’s population was already at a low, how could this happen to them?

She gripped her sword on her hip and began to run towards Korg.

“Korg, what’s happening?”

***

“Pass the salt!” The teenager growled at her younger brother for the fourth time. The boy stuck his tongue out before shoving the salt into the girl’s hand. She could only roll her eyes in response but mumbled out a ‘thank you’ after. The sounds of her mother scolding Christian, her brother, filled the air.

The smells of homemade food on the table caused the family dog to dive under the table, hoping for a little snack from one of the family members. Christian glanced at the people sitting down and quickly snatched some of his dinner off his plate for his dog. The furry tail of the golden retriever smacked the legs of the table loudly.

But when the click of the front door opening and closing caused the family dog to bolt towards the it, the family stopped talking to see who the newcomer was. The parents exchanged looks, they weren’t expecting anyone else at the table. With a smile, a man in his early twenties holding a luggage and a few other bags entered the dining room. The family dog circled around his legs and barked.

“Michael!” The girl smiled and jumped out of her seat, the table shook and a few of the drinks in the cups spilled out. The bags fell to the floor when Michael opened up his arms.  

“Hey Amy!” Michael’s arms surrounded the young girl as he lifted her up in the air. Sounds of laughter became more apparent in that household. The dad of the house ended up preparing another meal for their newcomer and conversations between the small family brightened up.

“So, how’s life with you and your boyfriend?” Christian asked his older brother. But instead of a reply that one would expect, the clattering of silverware on the table and a veil of silence appeared. The remnants of their oldest brother were left behind by a pile of ashes. Even the sounds of their dog panting disappeared and upon looking under the table, you’d only be met with more ashes.

“Honey?” Their dad looked down at his hands in disbelief before disappearing himself. Amy gripped onto her mother’s arms the moment she felt there was something wrong.

“Mom?” She croaked out before she ended up turning into ashes. Christian and his mom were left sitting there for a few moments before she rushed over to him and hugged him as tight as she could.

“Mom? What’s… What’s going on?”

***

The monitor sounds in the operating room beeped every so often, each one signaling the heartbeat of the patient. The surgeon and nurses were decorated in the typical blue hospital attire while a few students watched from an operating theater. Nurses walking around to grab certain tools, nurses holding parts of the patient’s surgical wound open, and others holding a light made the surgeon’s job easier.

“Miss, we’ll have to hurry this up or he’ll be needing a blood transfusion soon,” one of the nurses stated. The unsoundly noises made by the bloodied gloves of the surgeon caused a few students to gag.

“Have we been given permission to do so?” The surgeon asked, never once looking away from her hands.

“Yes.”

“Then get it ready.” Immediately, other nurses flooded around to ensure that their presence didn’t clog up the room. They were to be made useful. Students in the operating theater hands flew across their papers as they observed how surgeries were done.

The sound of a clipboard falling onto the floor caused all of the students to turn towards the origin of the noise, only to be greeted by an empty chair. Brows furrowed and they looked back into the operating room, goosebumps forming on the arms of all who watched. The surgeon was nowhere to be seen and the nurses left in the room scrambled to save the patient’s life even as they faded themselves.

***

The rising sun met the joggers hazel eyes as she adjusted her earbuds, moving her curly hair out of her face. It was still really dark out and she was hoping she didn’t have to deal with any leftover muggers since it was her first time running this early. But she smiled as she saw people starting to leave their apartment buildings to head into the subways, buses, or taxis, signaling that she should be safe.

The jogger looked down at her phone on the arm and quickly changed it to a radio station to catch up on the news.

“In other news, Tony Stark is still reportedly missing. Colonel James Rhodes, or also known as War Machine, has yet to make a statement.”

“It feels like the UN is hiding something from us, I just have a bad feeling.”

“Is this why you were so against the signing of the Accords?”

“Well, yeah, but that was two years ago and now we…”

Each step the runner took was easy for her. But the ongoing argument between the two radio reporters made the woman frown. She no longer stayed focused on where she was running and who was around her. So when a man grabbed her by the arm and yanked her into an alleyway, she could only stumble and fall on her side.

She yelped and her phone fell out of her arm band and slid away from her. Slowly raising her head up at her attacker, her eyes widened when seeing the gun in his hand. She could feel the stinging on the side of her leg and arm but ignored it as she watched the barrel of the gun being shoved in her face, not even realizing that his hand was shaking.

“Y-You’re gonna come with me,” the man stuttered out. “You’re my hostage, and yo-you’re gonna help me.” The sounds of the radio filled their ears when they both realized the earbuds left the headphone jack after the fall. He scoffed. “How ironic, those heroes aren’t even here to save you.”

But then the sounds of one of the news reporters panicking about how the other person just disappeared brought the woman out of her daze. But the sound of the gun clattering to the floor caused her to scrunch up her face in confusion. Her attention was brought back to where the man once stood but she could only see ashes. Slowly standing up, unsure of what was going on, she reached for her phone. She looked down at her phone, putting the earbuds back into the headphone jack when she walked back out into the city sidewalk.

“Watch out!” She looked up only to see a bus with no driver coming towards her.

***

The ocean waves crashed onto the sandy beach. Screams of joy came out of a small teenager as she ran away from the waves alongside her friends. A scrawny boy in glasses put his arms down to the side, laughing. The pictures he was able to take for his friends ended up being meme-able, especially when they ran away from the waves.

“Don’t get wet, Violet. We’re leaving soon,” the scrawny boy called out.

“I’m already wet, Avery. Wink wonk,” Violet replied, tossing her head back in laughter.

Avery gagged in response, “Gross, tell that to literally anyone else.”

“Yeah, but Serina doesn’t like it when I flirt with her.” Violet looked over at her friend with her eyes squinting in accusation, but the girl was just busy talking to the other dark-skinned girls. “But never stops to flirt with Sam over there, or even kissing Kiara that one time. One day, Avery, one day.”

Avery could only laugh at his friend before heading towards the other males of the group, who sat in the sand. Even though he fit in more with the girls, he still wanted to take pictures with them. To put the memories in concrete; to solidify it. Avery put his hand on the one male without glasses and started to tug on him.

“Come on Tom, you need to take pictures with your girlfriend,” Avery urged. Then he promptly called over Sam a few times who jumped and looked over at the two. Her beaming smile and wavy hair caused Tom to smile back, the feeling of bubbles, like her personality, rising in his chest. Then Avery walked in front of the other two males.

“Elijah!”

The oldest of the group shook his head as if he was taken out of his thoughts “Huh?! What? What’s up?” Elijah made eye contact with Avery who only gestured towards the rest of their friends. “Oh, right, come on Harry let’s go.” Elijah set his hand on the boy’s shoulder next to him and the two promptly got up to join the rest of the group.

The shared moments between the new high school graduates was a highlight for all of them. It’d be one of their last few moments before college hit. They all knew it, and the painful thought that they’d all slowly stop being friends was etched in the back of all of their heads. But that didn’t stop them from laughing, from having fun. Especially as teenagers. Occasionally getting in trouble, getting caught up in teenage drama and angst. They couldn’t do much besides live. With all the near catastrophic events happening in almost the last decade, the teenagers made sure they could live to the best that life let them.

The last sliver of the sun began to fade into the water. The teenagers stood at the edge of the pier watching it after a few games and eating a small dinner watching the sun say its goodbyes. They were cracking jokes with one another as the ocean waves hit the legs of the pier. Once the sun disappeared and all they could see was hues of bits of yellow, orange, pink, purple, and then the night sky, they took that as a cue to head off for home.

Violet shot towards one of their two cars they drove in to get to the beach, quickly calling shotgun. Harry, Elijah, and Kiara followed behind as they entered the car. Harry being the designated driver. Next to them, they could see Avery asking Serina to drive for a bit since he was tired. It was evident that Serina’s voice was coming out rushed and high-pitched but she quickly gave in. Avery smiled, thanked her, then danced over towards the passenger seat.

Serina waited for Harry to back out first then continued to follow him from behind. Avery popped in Kpop into the stereo and Tom argued against it, claiming it’d get stuck in his head for the rest of the night. But Serina was too focused on the road to deal with them arguing for what kind of music to be played (with the few innuendos Sam kept making).

“Sam, stop!” Serina shouted jokingly. But instead of being greeted by Sam making another one of her sexual remarks, she just heard Tom freaking out.

“Tom?” Avery turned around to see what was going on. “What’s wr-…” And stillness filled the car. Serina glanced to the side and in the rearview window and her eyes widened at the fact that her friends disappeared. She wanted to freak out, she wanted to scream and figure out what was going on but her other friend’s car in front of her veered off to the side and crashed into a light pole, hard. Serina shoved her foot on the breaks and quickly looked at her side mirror to see if she could get out of the car to check on her other friends. She was lucky, it seemed as if there were no other cars on the road.

The fear that her other friends might’ve disappeared, or could be dead from the crash was all that raced in her mind as one foot went in front of the other towards the car. The windows were tinted black and she knew it’d most likely be locked but her hand reached towards the handle and it opened. But there was no one in the driver’s seat and no one in the back seats. Just Violet, with her head against the cracked window, eyes shut, and blood dripping down her head and forearms from the windshield breaking into the car.

“Holy fuck,” Serina whispered out.

***

Xandar was desolate and bleak. The planet was in mourning and the events that occurred weeks earlier would be forever etched into the history of the Xandarians. The Nova Corps that was settled on the planet was practically purged from the works of Thanos. Cries of loved ones still searching for their lost ones never stopped. There were few good stories that were told, loved ones appear out of nowhere and some even surviving the damage done on the planet.

Irani Rael sat on the top floor of the ruins of the Nova Corps headquarters. Her eyes held emptiness as she watched the planet before her still burning. She should be thankful that she was alive. But she wasn’t. God she wished she was dead. She wished she died with the other half of the Xandarians if it meant another civilian would be alive. But that’s what Thanos left her with. That was her curse to hold, to be the one alive and to be the ones to watch her people struggle.

There was nothing to be done, no one knew what to do. How were the Xandarians supposed to get back up after the destructive force of Thanos swept through them?

Few of them ran through the ruined planet, handing out supplies and spreading the word of shelters. Others kept smiles plastered on their face, to keep the optimism they sorely needed.

Rael knew of the stories. But she was never able to leave the ruins. Even when a few Xandarians tried to convince her to join them. She just wanted to rest, take a few moments; all the moments.

In the distance, a toppled building exploded, catching the blue eyes of Rael. Her brow furrowed and she slowly rose out of the seat. Her clothes were battered. Not like she could change into anything, this part of Xandar was destroyed after the fierce battle against Thanos and his Black Order. She could only wonder what the rest of the planet looked like.

She eyed specks of people rushing over towards the building. Most likely wanting to help those who may have been hurt. A small smile grew on her face, it was in moments like these that made her proud to be Xandarian. It was home to thousands of different species. And Xandar had been that type of planet for eons so it never mattered what one was born as. It was through those differences that united them and to see them still united as one to help others, it was a sight to behold.

A female dug through a pile of concrete even though the fire raged on. But her species allowed her to withstand thousand degree heat. So she worked through it as she found bodies, dead and alive, and handed them carefully to other helpers. Slowly, the fire began to die down and it wasn’t until hours later that they saw that the fire was gone and they rescued those who needed rescuing.

The female sat on the side of a destroyed road drinking out of a bottle, recovering from the work effort done.

It was calm, they all shared food, blankets, whatever they could.

“You know, the rest of Xandar could be in total and utter chaos,” a Krylorian said, his pink skin glowing as the fire in front of them kept them warm.

“Probably, but I’m glad I’m in this area,” a Xandarian native replied chugging another bottle of what was alcohol.

Another looked at her in disbelief, “You kidding me? After the shit Thanos did to all of us. No way, if I was in another area I’d try to help them out to bring order.”

The Xandarian shrugged, “We’re still lucky. Alive and well.” But they all took a moment and looked at their surroundings.

“At what cost?” Another asked. They stayed quiet for a few more moments, the night brought them a sort of chill.

“I just hope that the Guardians are able to stop Thanos,” a Centaurian spoke up. The others eyed the one who just talked wearily. It’s not that they were against what he suggested. Just that they wished the Guardians was there to save them in the first place. But they weren’t. And what could the small group do against him and his army? The Black Order would be able to stop them in one go.

No one else spoke, no one wanted to. The silence was comfortable. The heat radiating from the fire comforted them. The presence of those around them comforted them.

But the silence was broken by a gasp and someone wondering what was happening. The fire began to be covered up by the ashes. They all looked at one another, appalled at the sight before them. The gasps and the dreadful voices asking for help was all that was heard throughout Xandar. Each one of them scrambling for one another only to hold ashes in their hands.  

The heat-resistant female clambered over towards what was left of the group, her mouth parted in distress.

No one else spoke, no one wanted to. The silence was no longer comfortable. The fire no longer radiated heat, it was buried in the ashes. The presence of those around them was no longer there. So what was the point?

***

The universe was quiet. The very moments after the unforgiving snap was eerily tranquil. As if the moment of silence was being taken earlier for the silent screams of those taken by the snap. The silent screams was only greeted by the mute horror of a now smaller universe. A universe that was in pain. Shockwaves of the snap would﹣will﹣continue for years to come. Lives lost after the snap from those in the middle of surg­ery, driving a car or ship, or even those who take their own life from the heartbreak of losing loved ones.

Yes, the universe was suffering. Resources would continue to be used up, but to what extent does this help? Without suffering, one cannot know what is good. One can create a world without war, without alcohol or drugs, without hate or jealousy, but then it wouldn’t be the world one lived in. Nothing would be learned, nothing would be gained. Species would have no motivation to advance, only to devolve. [1]

And so the universe only suffered more.

Then, there was you. [2]

a/n: READ #2 TRUST ME. This isn’t the normal fanfic (looool) with the Marvel Characters (ish) or even an OC/Reader insert. Kinda had an idea of what it’d be like to write about normal people of Earth. Then this came to mind. Also included a story on Xander and exploring the theory on whether or not the snap halves populations that’s already been halved by Thanos himself, which includes a small tidbit of what I think could have happened with Valkyrie and Korg!

[1] - This was a reference to the comics Avengers (2010) #12 when Tony wielded the gauntlet. It’s definitely something that’s been around on Tumblr but if you haven’t seen it you can find the comics online!

[2] - Way back when I posted this 2 years ago? i put out the suggestion to let people request if they wanted me to write their own oc into something like this or you or just something. i’m not doing that anymore. though i dont think anyone would want it since no one wanted one before LOL

[hanalwayssolo]

Unspoken Definites

A/N: It is I, baptizing my new fictional husband with a one-shot. This is largely inspired by this light novel and a conversation that has spiraled into shenanigans with @blindedstarlight!

ETA: [Link on AO3]

“You have got to be kidding me.” You cup the phone between your ear and shoulder, glancing at the digital clock sitting at your desk. Three a.m. it glares mockingly as half the sheaf of test papers from your class remain ungraded. “You’re telling me, Yamada, that Aizawa is drunk?”

“Yes, and I’m not pulling your leg or anythiiiing!” Yamada cries, and the shrill static makes you wince away from your phone. Judging by the sound of his voice, you’re pretty sure he has also had a few too many. Somewhere in the background, you can hear a wild medley of raucous singing and screaming. “He went overboard with the drinks! Again! You have to go down here,” he pleads. “I need serious backup—“

“I’m in the middle of grading essays,” you say curtly. “All Might’s there, isn’t he? He should be more than enough.”

“He already left! Urgent business!”

“How about Kayama?”

“Midnight’s already wasted as fuck, my friend!”

“Then Sekijiro should—“

“Vlad King’s weeping at the bar counter!”

“And the others?”

“Either passed out or butchering another stupid pop song!”

“Fucking hell.” You sigh. A burst of maniacal laughter echoes from the other line, but is immediately drowned out by a chorus of off-key singing.

When the majority of the UA faculty decided earlier today to go karaoke as a grand culmination of a tiring work week, you had been wise enough to say no. You said no not because of the obvious workload you still had on your plate, nor was it because you didn’t feel like going out. It mostly had to do with the fact that you were precisely avoiding this kind of situation.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

Because the fact of the matter is, the only situation you’re avoiding, if you were to be completely honest, is one that would ultimately involve seeing Aizawa.

“Look—“ Yamada clears his throat, the tone of his voice suddenly serious— “I don’t know what happened between you guys, but please? Make an exception? Just for tonight?”

A strained pause. Frankly, though you are more inclined to deny this absurd request, it’s not everyday you get to hear a pro-hero like Present Mic asking for help—let alone relying on a Quirkless teacher like you from the Department of Management to get this group of drunk heroes out of their shitty situation. But you have to hand it to him for taking you by surprise; he may seem like an excitable airhead most of the time, but for him to decipher the meaning of your hesitation with tact and thoughtfulness is, quite admittedly, the last thing you expected from him.

After careful consideration, you find yourself saying, “Fine.” You let out a defeated exhale. “You owe me big time here, Mic. I’ll be right over.”

The bar-slash-karaoke joint—Cantina, it is called, all decked out in flashing neon lights in the middle of Tatooine District—is already closing up shop by the time you arrive: a scrawny looking manager is barking orders on the phone, waiters busily cleaning tables, a couple of bartenders mopping up the vomit off the rainbow-striped linoleum floor. The stench of cigarettes is nauseating. There seems to be no other customers left. Most of the booths have been vacated, save for the last one down the hazy, fluorescent-lit hallway where a familiar voice belting out a rock song bellows like a cry for help.

You press onward. As soon as you open the door, it feels like you have stumbled upon an unsettling scene with the pro-heroes, all in their corporate attire and at the peak of their inebriation: Present Mic on the small dais, serenading an already sleeping Midnight; Cementoss snoring the night away over at the couch; Vlad King chugging on another whiskey bottle while in tears; Thirteen swimming on spilled vodka; and Eraserhead casually sitting on the corner, having a conversation with his empty mug of beer.

Yamada drops the microphone the moment he sees you by the doorway.

“You’re here!” He hurtles toward you and wraps you in a hug. He smells strongly of sweat and alcohol. “Thank fuck! Now we can go home! Please tell me you brought a car.”

You shrug his arms off of you. “No, Mic, I walked all the way from our UA dorms to get here.”

“Are you serious—“

“Of course I have a fucking car with me,” you sneer. “You know, I’m actually surprised to see that you’re the last man standing.”

Yamada grins proudly. “Well, I know I don’t look like it but I am actually really responsible and kind and amazing—“

“Okay, don’t push it.”

“Oh, fine.” He rolls his eyes. “Now I’ll help these idiots out. You take Shouta with you.”

“Uh, hold up—“ you raise a hand in protest, and you briefly scan the mess of a room— “how about I take Kayama with me while you take the rest of the guys? Aizawa can walk by himself.”

“You kidding me?” Yamada shakes his head. “Look at him. I know that’s his everyday bitch face but that bitch face of his is dead drunk. He’s been giving out compliments to everyone before you got here.”

You quirk a suspicious brow. “Really?”

“Yeah. Check this out.” He turns to Aizawa and says, “Yo Eraser, you think I can beat All Might as the top hero?”

Aizawa looks up at Yamada with a sluggish smile. “You can do anything, Mic. You’ve always been the best.” Then, he turns to you and his red-rimmed eyes widen. “Hi. You’re very beautiful.”

You blink. “Yup. He’s drunk.”

“See?” Yamada laughs. “But drunk words are sober thoughts, no? Besides—“ he nudges you by the elbow— “he’s been talking about you nonstop all night.”

You say nothing. The withering glare you cast in Yamada’s direction is more than enough for his cheeky grin to falter.

“Okay, fine, I get it!” He raises both hands in surrender. “None of my business! Let’s get outta here!”

The walk from the karaoke booth to your car becomes one effortful affair. Knowing he does not possess the physicality to carry his peers, Yamada wakes both Ishiyama and Sekijiro up by screeching on their ears. A questionably rude way to use his Quirk to wake someone up, but considering the situation at hand, courtesies be damned, you suppose. How Yamada manages to pacify their immediate irritation is beyond you; how he even manages to command them to carry both Kayama and Thirteen is much more bewildering at best.

Meanwhile, you pull Aizawa on his feet, sling his arm around over your shoulder, your one arm around his waist. He may possess such a lanky appearance, but he sure is heavy. And made out of sturdy materials. You know this. You know this because you have seen everything he is hiding beneath his usual ragged attire after many sleepless nights in his bed—

Not the time for that, self.

As you drag him out into the parking lot, he tries to lean his head on yours, but you shake him off. Still, despite your unreasonable annoyance, you find yourself looking up at him. A stray lock of his hair has fallen away from his sloppily tied half bun and over his face. You reach for it and tuck it behind his ear, and he looks at you as if it is the first time he is seeing you with a nameless awe and wonder. He smiles. Not his wry and mocking smile, the one he offers to his most aggressive students to teach them a lesson or two. Certainly not that. The smile he gives you is so foreign on his face, so exceptionally rare that your heart misses a beat.

Not the fucking time for this—

“You’re… so short,” he says with a hiccup. His breath reeks of alcohol, but his shirt smells strangely of fresh laundry.

You grimace. If he hadn’t been this hammered, you would have kicked him right in the shin. “Thanks for pointing out the obvious.”

He lets out a small laugh. “But you’re also soft and warm.”

A cold breeze drifts but your cheeks are warmer than ever. “Um, thanks?”

“And you smell really nice.”

“Right.”

With everyone squeezing themselves together in the backseat, dozing off and snoring in chorus, the rest of the drive heading back to the UA premises is almost preposterous in its silence. It is already five-thirty in the morning, and a hint of dawn is spreading like a rosy veil throughout the highway. Over the horizon, the city lights are unblinking witnesses to this misadventure. However, in the passenger seat, Aizawa is wide awake and spends the whole ride staring out the window.

As much as you want to start a conversation, a large part of you decides against it. Or, more accurately, your wounded pride is adamant to keep your mouth shut. The last time you spoke, he was sober and you demanded to define this nameless relationship the two of you had been tiptoeing for months. There should be a line—nay, a Great Wall of China—between being friends and lovers, but whatever boundaries that stood have already been demolished with all the secret dates, the secret gifts, the secret nights tangled up in your sheets.

Was any of it real? It all felt real to you, at the very least. No one would have suspected Aizawa to be capable of such generosity; he is quiet, reserved, extremely private. But within the four corners of his strict privacy, there is an abundance in his affections, a side of him you rarely see with the way he is with others. A side of him you wish you could keep to yourself.

But you suppose that doesn’t matter now. It doesn’t look like whatever this nebulous affair between the two of you mattered to him, anyway. He made that very clear when he walked out of your door just like that. You wish he had said something cruel to hurt your feelings instead. At least that is a pain you can bear better rather than him not saying anything at all.

“Everything okay?”

You almost miss the turn to Heights Alliance when Aizawa speaks up. No, not everything is a much more honest answer, but he is looking at you with tired eyes that you doubt if he could catch you lying through your teeth. Instead, you spare him a glance and with high-pitch brightness, you say, “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

After dropping the others off in their respective buildings—which, to your relief, is relatively easier compared from the struggle back in Cantina—you decide to accompany Aizawa back to his room. He is still a bit woozy, that’s obvious enough; he stops along the way to talk to the rose shrubs and tulips out on the lawn, calling them his students which, despite its sheer hilarity, makes the climb to the front steps of his dorm a monumental challenge.

“Wait—“ Aizawa untangles himself from you as you enter the building— “let me talk to Midoriya for a sec.”

You watch him unsteadily ambling his way to the potted plants by the entrance. “Huh, Midoriya isn’t here. Everyone is still asleep—“

“You should stop getting yourself injured,” he says to no one in particular. “Recovery Girl can’t keep healing you all the time.”

“Shouta, you’re talking to a cactus. C’mon.”

He turns to you with an impish grin. “Hi. You’re pretty. I like you.”

You groan in both exasperation and exhaustion. The lord is truly testing my patience. As you haul him back up, he holds your hand and presses a kiss on the back of your hand.

“My god, it makes me sick how you’re weirdly affectionate when you’re drunk. Who would’ve thought that a fuckton of drinks would warm up your cold-hearted ass?” you say, heaving his whole body by your side. “Now let’s go before one of the kids wake up—“

“Um, Sensei?”

A low voice that neither belongs to you or Aizawa startles you into a sudden panic. You turn, and you see a tall, muscular boy with glasses and in his pajamas staring at you as if he had seen a ghost. Then he looks at Aizawa. His face pales.

Fuck.

“Is… Sensei alright?” the boy worrily croaks. “And does he—you two are—“

“You’re Iida, right?” you ask carefully. You look around the living room and exhale a breath of relief to find that he is the only student in the room.

The boy nods. “Do you need, um, help—“

“No, we’re fine,” you answer quickly. “Can I ask you for something, though?”

Iida nods again, vigorously this time. “Yes, of course!”

“You never saw or heard anything. Is that understood?” There is a silent threat in your voice that makes Iida squirm in discomfort.

“Yes, uh—understood!” He salutes nervously. You spare him a small pat on the back as you shuffle past him, onto the stairs, and into Aizawa’s room.

The afternoon sun drags Aizawa awake in a throbbing daze. His head hurts as if he had been beaten with a thousand pinpricks, his mouth too coppery for his taste. The stream of sunlight filtering through his windows paints his barren room in a thin veil of gold that at first glance, he thinks he is somewhere else entirely. But there is no mistaking that this is really his room: the soulless furnishing of a simple bed, a desk, and a worn-out couch, and the startling emptiness of his space is easy enough to recognize as his own. Still, it does not make any sense. How did he manage to get here? As far as he can remember, he was at the Cantina with All Might and...

Holy shit.

A sharp panic jolts him out of the sheets. He looks down on his hands, his body. Okay. Thank god he is fully clothed. No injuries, too. As he ties his hair back into a pony, he scans the room for something out of the ordinary, something to jog his memory of last night. Nothing seems to be out of place until his attention falls to a figure lying on his couch.

Aizawa rubs his eyes. He is unsure if the sight of you sleeping on his couch is a product of his hangover, but the faint sound of your breaths only proves it otherwise.

As far as he is concerned, the last person he could ever expect to be in the same room as him is you, not after he left so callously after that last argument without saying another word. He knows you deserve better than the way he has treated you. He knows you deserve better than him. You have been patient enough to thaw his cold indifference, brave enough to see past through his sharp edges. He is not easy to like, but you made him believe that he is worth the time. And in the short time he has spent with you, he finds himself wanting more, and the more he tries to make sense out of it, the less he understands this gnawing, aching feeling that never fails to leave him gasping for air.

He walks over to you, sits on the edge of the couch. For a moment, he watches you sleep. He finds solitude in your peaceful face, in the tender rhythm of your breathing. You shift a little. And when he hears his name leave on your lips, his breath stops for a second. An unnameable feeling spreads over him with the warmth of a forest fire, with the ferocity of a storm.

God, you’re so beautiful.

Not a little longer and he sees you stir. When you open your eyes, the first that you see is him.

“Hi,” he says with a small smile.

You sit right up in a panic. “Hi. Fuck—I’m sorry.” You fix your hair and wipe the drool on the side of your mouth. “I, um—I hope you didn’t mind that I crashed here to sleep.”

He shrugs. “It’s okay. Yamada called you to pick us all up, didn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you. And sorry for the trouble.” He reaches for the back of his neck, looks away. Then, he asks: “I didn’t happen to do something stupid last night, did I?”

You laugh. “I don’t think you’d really want to know.” In a sudden hurry that startles him, you get up and begin to gather your things. “Anyway, there’s a bottle of painkillers in the bathroom, in case you still have your headaches. And please eat something decent. I should get going—“

“Wait.” The word leaves him sharply that it slices throughout the room.

You stare at him, eyes searching and urging for him to continue.

“I…” He falters. With a heavy breath, he braves through the silence and says, “I was hoping if you could stay.”

You purse your lips, shaking your head. “You know, since we’re here, I think it’s about time that we stop this… whatever this thing we have.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m tired of this. Besides, for a Quirkless like me, I’ll only be a liability to a pro-hero like you—“

“You were never a liability to me.”

“Then what am I to you?”

“The fucking love of my life.”

In long, steady strides, he closes the space between the two of you and he takes your face in his hands. He lifts your head and lets his lips graze your forehead, your cheek, the tip of your nose, as if this is the only way for him to memorize the warmth of your skin on his.

“May I?” he whispers under his breath. “I’m sorry if my breath stinks—“

“Just kiss me, you asshole.”

He smiles. And in this scorching tenderness, he presses his mouth on yours, kissing you as if this is the only time he has left, as if you are the only rational and logical thing that could ever matter in this life or the next.

[foxboymyles]

Pardon My Imprudence [Chp 4]

Note: Last Chapter for today :)

Zoro and Luffy started to walk out the door. The weather was pretty cold, with a slight breeze outside. The sun was just about to set. Luffy held Zoro’s hand with a smile on his face.

“Say, I saw a cool plush! It was a lion, but he had this mane that looked like the sun or somethin’” Luffy said.

“Oh? Nice. When was this?” Zoro asked.

Luffy stopped, all of a sudden. Zoro asked what was wrong, and he pointed at a weak dog on the sidewalk. It looked like it was a Jack Russell terrier, but he was really dirty and scrawny, as you could see his bones from the skin. Luffy walked towards it. He pet it gently as it slowly wagged its tail.

“He must be homeless. ‘Looks like he’s starving, too!” Luffy said, worried.

“Ice cream’s not that expensive. We should spend some on getting him some food.” Zoro added.

Luffy brightly grinned and jumped on Zoro. He repeatedly said thank you while kissing his cheek multiple times. Zoro blushed and with gentle hands, took Luffy off of him. Luffy picked up the scared dog and went to a dog store. They bought 8 dollars of dog food and a dog leash. Luffy gave the dog a handful of kebble, and like he expected, the dog ate it all in a whole gulp. Luffy put the dog on a leash, as the dog wagged his tail up and panted excitedly. He smiled and realized that he saved a life. Once Zoro and Luffy got their ice cream, they went home and Zoro took a rest on the couch. It was 9:00 PM now. Luffy filled a bowl up with pebble food as the dog rushed to it and chomped it. It was the right time to pour water into a bowl as well. Luffy gazed at the dog and grinned. Ace came downstairs with Sabo, and his eyes open wider than space.

“YOU BOUGHT A DOG WITH 20 DOLLARS?!?” He exclaimed.

Luffy shook his head.”I bought his stuff with 10 dollars. The doggie was free.”

Zoro blushed and chuckled when Luffy said ‘doggie’. Ace blushed and gave a big sigh.

“You’re gonna have to ask Shanks about this.”

“Oh, I already know,” Shanks said, appearing from out of the kitchen.

“I think it’s great. We’ve never had a family dog. All we need to do is find out if he’s had any of his shots.”

Luffy grinned and agreed with Shanks, petting the pup as it licked his face.

“I could pay for some of it if you’d want me to.” Said Zoro

Shanks was hesitant. “No no no, it’s quite alright. I can pay for it myself.”

“No, I insist. It’s the least I could do.” Zoro said.

“You don’t need to prove yourself. You already did. Ace can agree.” Shanks said, smiling.

Zoro stared for a while, then started petting the dog with Luffy.

“What should his name be?” Asked Sabo.

“ChouChou!” Luffy responded.

Shanks laughed and got his phone from the counter.

“Well, you kids can go to bed now,” Shanks said.

Zoro was about to get his stuff when Shanks interrupted him.

“You don’t have to leave, you know. Stay for the night.” Shanks said, dialing the number for Mihawk. “I’ll just call your father and tell him you’re sleeping over here.”

Zoro nodded and grabbed his stuff. He went upstairs to Luffy’s room and laid them down by the bed. Looking around, he observed the blue covered sheets and the starry night light that shined upon the dimly lighted room. There were shelves of boxing trophies and bottled miniature ships. There were a few clothes on the floor, his hamper barely hanging onto the pants he tossed in it. Looking in his drawers he found piles and piles of pirate and Tony Tony Chopper comics. Then there was the sock drawer. Zoro blushed and slowly opened what he assumed would be his underwear drawer. It was then that he slammed the drawer closed.

“Zoro! Whatcha doin’?” Luffy asked, innocently.

“Ah, nothing important. I was just looking at your room.” Said Zoro.

“Oh! It looks cool, doesn’t it?” Luffy said. “I have something I saved for you, too!”

Luffy got a fluffy teddy bear from under his bed and handed it to Zoro. They both sat on his bed.

“I got this when Shanks adopted me. I think you should have it, though.” Luffy said, blushing.

Zoro grabbed it gently and looked up at him.

“Are you sure you want to give me this?” Zoro asked.

Luffy nodded and told him to close his eyes. He leaned into Zoro and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. Gradually, the slow soft kisses got faster. Zoro held his waist as Luffy rested his weight on him.

Ace opened the door, and Luffy pulled up the covers to the bed.

“Hey, I just needed that fly swatter you ha-” Ace said, only to look at Luffy struggling to not keep it obvious.

But it was definitely obvious. Ace quickly got the fly swatter, with a short thanks and a hot freckled face, and the door was shut. Zoro gave Luffy a long kiss back. Luffy rested his head on Zoro’s chest. He felt the warm vibrations as Zoro’s chest rose and fell.

“That was almost better than food,” Luffy said, cutely.

Zoro kissed him on the cheek. “Am I better than food?” Zoro asked.

Luffy looked up at him. “Yeah.” The teen gave Zoro a peck on the nose. Zoro chuckled and ran his hand through Luffy’s hair.

“ ‘Love you, Zoro.”

“I love you too,” Zoro replied.

It was getting late, and Luffy’s eyes felt droopy. Zoro was already fast asleep. The sky was lit in a dark blue, with the most beautiful stars. The silhouette of a tree stood out in the middle. The candle in the room dimly lit the space and shaded Zoro’s face in warm colors. Luffy’s eyes twinkled at the scene, from the stars that lit in the sky brightly. All at once, he seemed content. His eyes closed.

…

The next morning was bright. Too bright, Zoro thought. He grumbled angrily at the alarm clock and slapped the off button. Zoro shook Luffy, but he had no success of waking him up. Then, getting his surprisingly still cold-water bottle and poured in all over him. Luffy gasped awake and wriggled around. As soon as he realized what was going on, he hit Zoro in the arm.

“Stupid! I could have wakened up myself, ya know!” Luffy shouted.

“Yeah, sure,” Zoro said, getting his pants and baggy shirt on.

Luffy whipped something out of his closet and put it on. He had on blue shorts and a red tank top, put on his sandals, and waited for Zoro to put on his shoes. He laid on his stomach on the bed, both hands squishing his cheeks and his legs kicking slowly. For a moment he was looking at Zoro’s face. His tan skin and sharp eyes, up to his mint green hair. Zoro turned to look at Luffy once he realized Luffy was staring at him.

“Great, now you got me staring. Did you know you have huge eyes?” Zoro said.

“Is that somethin’ to make me mad?” Luffy replied, annoyed.

“No. I just look at you and I can see galaxies in them. Your eyes are- kinda pretty.” Zoro admitted.

“I’m not pretty! I’m a man!” Luffy shouted defensively while blushing.

Zoro walked passed him and opened the door. “I’m just saying your eyes look pretty. But sure, I guess you are pretty.”

“You’re just trying to taunt me, I know it! Let’s fight! Right now!” Luffy angrily shouted, following him down the stairs.

“Wow Luffy, even when you’re mad you’re beautiful,” Zoro said, jokingly.

“Beautiful?!? Bu- stop calling me that! It sounds girly!” Luffy yelled, even redder.

Sabo was up making pancakes. What was surprising is that Ace, Luffy’s usually sleepy and lazy brother, was up with an average look on his face. Sabo quickly got his suitcase and took off his apron. He wore a dress shirt and pants, with shiny black shoes. He was gathering his things out the door whilst Luffy was getting down the stairs.

“I have to go visit Koala now. She’s expecting me to get the storyboard in by today.” Sabo mumbled to Ace.

“Isn’t this your guys’-what- 4th anniversary?” Ace asked, helping Sabo.

Sabo turned to the tiny gift on the counter and grabbed it. He said a short thanks and hugged Luffy from the stairs. After that, the door shut faster than 3 seconds later. Luffy sat down on the couch.

“Sabo has a girlfriend?” Zoro asked.

“Yep. They’ve been together since they were 13.” Ace answered.

“Why don’t you guys go to our school?”

“We go to a private school. Guess it’s just because Shanks wants us to stay serious with want we want to accomplish.” Ace said.

Zoro frowned thinking of Mihawk’s plans for his education. Even if Zoro got good grades, he doesn’t know that he’ll take him to a private school or not.

“You ok, Zoro?” Luffy asked, his hand touching Zoro’s.

Zoro nodded, grabbing and kissing Luffy’s hand. Ace turned after hearing footsteps. Shanks was making his way down the stairs, with his watch in his hand.

“Ace, you gotta come with me,” Shanks said, hurryingly.

Ace raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“It’s Makino. She’s not feeling great.” Shanks responded.

“Makino? Why can’t I go?” Luffy asked.

“You have to take care of ChouChou,” Shanks said, as Ace raced after Shanks through the door.

There was a slam. Luffy huffed and laid his head in Zoro’s lap.

“Who’s Makino?” Zoro asked.

“She’s kinda like our mother. She’s really close to Shanks and she’s taught us a bunch of stuff.”

Luffy laughed. “The funny thing is that Shanks and she haven't started dating yet.”

“Well, maybe they're not sure if they're ready for it. It's better to be friends with someone a while before going into that.” Zoro said.

“That's true…” Luffy said. He extended his arm out to pet ChouChou. ChouChou barked, then licked all around Luffy’s hand.

“Hey, that tickles a little bit!” He said, laughing. Zoro smiled at his joyful face and laid his head on the armchair. Until there was a knock. Then murmuring. Luffy got the door and stood up, while the dog barked loudly.

“Hiii, Luffy!” Nami said, cheerfully with Usopp and Chopper behind her.

“Oh hi, Nami. What’s up?”

“Just wanted to check in with you goof-offs. Also..” Nami sat down and looked at the two, while Usopp and Chopper turned on the tv to watch a cartoon. “I wanted to know if you guys would like to come with us to prom? It’ll be really fun.”

“Prom? I’ve heard of that but I never been to it.” Luffy said, curiously. Zoro looked at Nami and nodded.

“We’ll be there.”

“Sweet!” Nami said, happily. “It’s in a month so no rush, but it wouldn’t be as fun without you dorks.” She smiled and turned to Usopp and Chopper. “Hey what are you both up to?”

Luffy looked at Zoro. “Is your dad going to be upset you’re still here?”

“Who knows but that doesn’t really bother me,” Zoro answered. ChouChou jumped into his lap. 

“Do you and Ace get along now?” Luffy asked.

Zoro nodded. “Yeah. He’s a little secretive though. I don’t exactly know how he actually is.”

Luffy smiled. “He’s really cool once you get to know him. He always sticks up for me and Sabo. Just gets moods sometimes.”

Nami added. “He’s pretty cute!”

Zoro rolled his eyes. “Of course you say that.”

“Hey! It’s just my opinion.” Nami replied.

“What about Sanji?” Usopp asked Nami.

“Uh, I don’t know.” She said, quietly. That part of the discussion was stopped subtly by Nami. It looked like she was unsure about that part of her relationships, to Zoro. Luffy doesn’t really pay attention to that stuff, so if he asked him, he wouldn’t really have any interesting input about it. 

“Chopper, that’s cheating!” Usopp said, furiously mashing his controller.

“Nuh uh, I just know how to play the game.” Chopper replied. “X Triangle X does a huge combo. You just didn’t know!”

Usopp gasped. “Ehhhh!?! Well, thanks for sharing your method!”

They hung out together for an hour or so, until Sabo came back home. He hung up his jacket and looked around.

“Hi guys. Looks like a full party here.” Sabo remarked.

“Hey Sabo!” Luffy said, walking up to him and hugging him tightly. “How was it with Koala?”

“It was great! We went to a restaurant. I think you’ll like to go there someday.” Sabo continued. “It’s a sandwich place and they add all different kinds of meat.”

Luffy’s eyes lit up. “That sounds like heaven.” He said as Sabo laughed. He turned and hugged Zoro gently. 

“Hey, Zoro. How’s your day been?”

“Pretty good. Seems like you had fun.”

“Hi Sabo!” Usopp and Chopper said in unison. He greeted them back with the same enthusiasm. Then hugged Nami and smiled.

“Hi, Nami. How have things been?”

“They’ve been ok, I guess.” Nami quietly said. Sabo frowned. Lately, she’s looked like she’s not in the mood.

“Wanna chat outside for a minute? You seem sad.” Sabo replied. Nami nodded and walked outside to their backyard. She sat in one of their benches and crossed her legs. Sabo sat next to her, trying not to bother her as best as he could. Ever since Luffy had been Nami’s friend, Sabo has always been the person she talked to for help. Nami’s past wasn’t so great. Her mother died from gang members and her eldest sister is now taking care of her. She is especially very to herself, so at least one person she could vent to always made her mental health a lot easier to deal with. Since Sabo is her elder and his personality was warm and welcoming, it was very easy to open up to him.

“I think I like Sanji, but he’s not making it easy for me to do that.” Nami murmured.

“Why is that?” Sabo asked.

“He’s always talking about how he loves women so much. That’s ok but he’s just- I don’t know, obsessive. I’m not sure how I will deal with that if I get together with him.”

Sabo put a reassuring hand on Nami’s shoulder and looked her in the eye. “Tell him it bothers you. If you’re not ready to confess those types of feelings, then don’t do it yet. But if you observe his character afterward I’m sure it will lead you to your answer.” Sabo looked up. “But even if he’s not the right one for you, you are such a pretty and amazing girl. You are so strong, too. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Nami hugged him and smiled. “Thank you.” She felt a lot brighter now. It made Sabo feel like he did a good job. “I’m gonna go back now. Are you making anything?”

“Luffy wants Nachos for dinner, so I’ll start prepping that.”

“Oh, alright. Also, tell Ace I left him a present on his desk. I forgot to get him a birthday present last year, so I felt bad.” Nami said, leaving the sliding door open for Sabo to come in.

...

[aralisj]

gleb marfa + 26

26. “It was you the whole time.”

Marfa was seven and Gleb was ten. The unspoken animosity between their fathers weighed heavy and the few steps that separated their houses felt miles long. Gleb was scrappy, skinny and much too self righteous for a ten year old. He had an explosive temperament and would often get into arguments that he couldn’t win. He would try to make himself look bigger, squaring his shoulders and puffing his cheeks. Marfa found the scrawny kid adorable and would often drag him, kicking and screaming, out of fights with older kids; she would return him, safe and sound, to his mother and would receive lemon tea as a payment for her efforts. Gleb’s mother was gentle and kind to everyone; Marfa couldn’t help but imagine what life would be like with someone like that caring for her.

~

Marfa was ten and Gleb was thirteen. The Vaganovs moved out of Saint Petersburg, it was done quietly, efficiently and with no goodbyes. Marfa woke up one day to find the house next to hers completely empty. There was talk about where the Vaganovs had gone; rumours pointed to Yekaterinburg. In the back of her mind, Marfa wondered about how cold it could get there in the winter and who would keep the Vaganovs’ son out of trouble.

~

Marfa was fifteen and Gleb was eighteen. The Vaganovs returned to the newly named Leningrad; only the Vaganovs were two now, not three. Gleb would walk along their old neighborhood trying to find familiar places and friendly faces. He found cracks in the pavement and wrinkles on the faces of people he used to know, unmistakable reminders that his hometown had moved on without him. He soon learned that Marfa’s house was now occupied by a family of six, none of whom he recognized. He tried to ignore the tinge of pain that coursed through him. What did he expect? To find his city unchanged? With a heavy heart and his head down, he walked back home, slowly coming to terms with the fact that, yes, he had hoped to find the city exactly as he had left it.

~

Marfa was eighteen and Gleb was twenty-one. Gleb found her one night, smoking a cigarette, leaning on the door frame of some bar. Gleb called out to her, his lips curving around her name like a challenge or a curse: “Marfa.”

“Gleb?” she exhaled a cloud of smoke. There was shock and recognition and something else, something dangerous. “Shit, it’s been what? Eight years? I thought you had frozen to death in Yekaterinburg! Back in Petersburg, huh?”

Gleb suddenly remembered her mile-a-minute tongue and her cocky smile. Something felt different now, though. He realized quietly that he didn’t quite know if he wanted to photograph that smile or kiss it. He followed Marfa’s eyes as they examined him: his short military haircut, the hint of stubble on his jaw, his long legs in black, hand-me-down trousers.

“Looking good,” Marfa said, taking another drag of her cigarette. Marfa had managed to keep that roguish charm in the long hair that fell down to her waist, in the way she wore a man’s coat over a dress like it was high fashion and in that cut near her right eye that turned into crows feet everytime she smiled (Gleb remembered how she had gotten that cut).

“I’ve been in Leningrad the last three years,” Gleb said after a pause, rubbing his neck and intentionally ignoring the compliment. “I never ran into you, so I thought you left too.”

“Nah, there’s nothing else for me. Just this city,” there was a hint of bitterness that stopped Gleb from asking about her dad. How odd, being able to read someone he hadn’t seen in years so well.

“Besides,” Marfa went on, having swallowed that sadness with her last intake of smoke, “I don’t think you would have run into me unless you really tried. A clean cut, army boy like yourself…”

There was a challenge there, Gleb could taste it. His lips curved into a smirk.

“I’ve been looking for you all this time,” he admitted and Marfa stared in astonishment. 

“No! Three years, Glebka?”

“On and off. Since I returned, I have been asking around. I guess I was worried about you,” he shrugged, trying to make it seem less important. He had been given vague directions and forlorn glances, like he was one of her past lovers that couldn’t take no for an answer. “Careful, handsome,” a young woman warned him, “wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” Marfa had built a reputation for herself, constructed, more likely. “And you’re not as discreet as you think you are, Marfusha,” he mocked, because discretion had certainly never been her intent.

Marfa barked out a laugh, so real, so contagious that it made Gleb feel like they were kids again, recklessly throwing stones at windows. “There he is!” she exclaimed, triumphant. “I had missed your righteous speeches, Vaganov”, she rummaged inside the pockets of her ragged coat and offered one cigarette to the young man. “Do tell, what torrid things are people saying about me these days?”

Gleb walked cautiously towards her and took the cigarette. Marfa quickly offered her own match and manoeuvered to shield the flame with nimble fingers. Standing so close, Gleb noticed there was a small cut on her lip, one that hadn’t quite healed yet. Would he taste blood if he kissed her, he wondered. These should be warnings that discouraged him from pursuing whatever this was; then again, Gleb had never really developed a self-preservation instinct. And so, he inhaled cheap tobacco and stood a bit too close to Marfa, knowing well that these were both things that could kill him eventually.

~

Marfa was twenty-two and Gleb was twenty-five. Gleb was assigned to arrest a group of women soliciting near the Nevsky Prospekt; he had been following their track for days without much success. His superiors suggested that he treated it as a covert mission, wearing civil clothes, trying to blend in. That’s how he found himself in his only plain suit and coat, wandering the streets, looking for prostitutes. He tried to understand the appeal of the experience: walking alone, nearly freezing to death, choosing a companion for the night by the look of her ankles, guessing beautiful faces under scarves and wool hats.

“Are you lost, pretty boy?” a saccharine voice called.

“Dibs on tall, dark and handsome!” a second voice replied enthusiastically.

Against his better judgement, Gleb followed the voices to a dimly lit corner where three young women were standing.

“We got a new one girls!” the third girl hollered and only when the young man stood under the light she added: “Fancy seeing you here, Glebka.”

“Marfa?”

For the last few years, without meaning to, he had lost track of his friend and focused solely on becoming the youngest Deputy Commissioner that Leningrad had ever seen. It had been working fine with him following every order and completing every assignment, making his country proud. But now…

“What are you doing here, Marfa?”

“Working, duh,” she shook her head in mock disappointment. “You used to be smart, Gleb, what happened?”

“He got handsome,” the shorter girl replied shamelessly.

“That’s Dunya,” Marfa said rolling her eyes, “and Paulina,” she gestured at the other girl. “He isn’t buying, girls, he’s probably here to give us a talking-to.”

“It was you the whole time,” Gleb covered his face with his hands. “You know I’m here to arrest you?”

“And why haven’t you?” Marfa put her hands on her hips, impatient.

“I- I can’t. It’s you! You’re good and kind and-”

“And a prostitute,” she finished. “Do what you need to do, Glebka. I don’t care.”

Gleb started pacing in front of them, thinking, hearing clearly as Paulina suggested that they made a run for it while he was distracted.

“I have a solution, for the four of us,” he said after a while.

“We’re listening,” Marfa said like a countess that has just received the menu suggestions for a banquet.

“We could help each other,” the girls eyed each other skeptically. “No, listen. I need information about what’s happening on the streets and you need to keep your- ahem- business going.”

“Real smooth, Gleb,” Marfa mocked him.

“Listen,” his voice turned stern. “I could arrest you right now.”

“Are you saying you will pay us for gossip?” Paulina talked for the first time.

“Basically, yes,” Gleb shrugged.

“Yeah, we’re doing it,” Paulina shook his hand and pushed Dunya to do the same. “Marfa?”

“Yeah, okay,” she walked up to him and, to his astonishment, planted a kiss on his mouth. “Deal.”