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the-al-chemist · 2 years

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Artemis Hexley and the Return to the Riddles

Chapter 3: Shacklebolt and Shiratori

A/N: Artemis learns a little more about her past and the Cabal, and helps the Aurors in their investigation. Warnings: references to hypochondria, lore drop, mentions of death and war, gratuitous references to the 2007 cult classic Hot Fuzz. Disclaimer: For legal reasons, I should probably point out that all original characters, however minor, are figments of my own imagination and any resemblance they have to real people is purely coincidental. More specifically, I have definitely not based any of the characters in this chapter on any clients from my workplace.

“Long time, no see,” said Kingsley Shacklebolt, in that strangely familiar reverberating voice.

Artemis blinked, scarcely able to believe that she was not dreaming.

“Reggie?” she said, her own voice a hushed whisper, and the wizard who looked and sounded like her old friend inclined his head.

“Yes and no,” he replied. “It’s good to see you again, Tiny. And even better to meet you as myself, after all this time.”

“But… I… What?”

“Sit down, Hexley,” said the gruff voice of Mad-Eye Moody, and Artemis found herself being pushed down into a chair. “You’ll want to listen to this.”

Kingsley smiled at Artemis again, and pointed his wand at the wall of the cubicle. “Muffliato.”

He sheathed his wand into a belt around his waist and sat down opposite Artemis, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees so that his face was almost level with hers.

“You’re surprised to see me here. I understand why,” he said. “After all, the last time we saw each other, I was living on a boat, and - as far as you were concerned - I was a Muggle.”

“You’re not a Muggle, then?” asked Artemis, even though she had just seen Reggie - Kingsley - perform magic with her own eyes.

“I’m not, no. However, sometimes Auror fieldwork involves a degree of disguising oneself. Or, two and a half years of disguising oneself, in this case.”

“Why?”

“When your brother went missing, the war had just ended. There were still Death Eaters walking free, and we were doing everything we could to round them up. At first, we suspected that Jacob Hexley had disappeared in relation to this, that he had been recruited into the Death Eater ranks and-”

“No,” Artemis shook her head emphatically. “No, that’s not true. Jacob was never a Death Eater.”

“He was not, but his timing was suspicious. Not to mention that he had been expelled in the wake of a fellow student’s death, and he had lost his father not long before. A bright and powerful young wizard cast adrift like that… Well, you can see why he might be the sort to have turned to a group of people offering him a sense of purpose, of belonging to something,” Kingsley raised his eyebrows, and Artemis exhaled heavily. Kingsley was right; she could see why - from the outside, at least - Jacob may well have appeared to be a Death Eater. “It was only when we began to look into the circumstances surrounding his expulsion that we realised that your brother had already found a sense of purpose and belonging that had nothing to do with the Death Eaters at all.”

“The Cursed Vaults, you mean?”

“The Cursed Vaults, the Cabal, Rakepick, all of it. It seemed then - and it still seems now - that the more we’ve uncovered, the more questions we end up asking ourselves. There have been and still are so many secrets and riddles, and even more dead ends.”

“So, what do you actually know?” Artemis said, her eyebrows knitting together. “About my brother and the Cabal? About R? And why were you living on a boat outside my house for two years?”

Kingsley laughed, not unkindly.

“All very good questions, Tiny. Let’s start with the easy one: I lived outside your house because there was a concern for your safety,” he said, straightening up a little. “During our investigations we were made aware that the Cabal - R, as you call them - might make an attempt to-”

“Kill me?”

“Kidnap you,” Kingsley corrected Artemis with a shake of his head. “Our source made it clear that whilst the Cabal are dangerous, they would not have harmed you physically.” He must have noticed the confused look on Artemis’ face, because before she could ask him who this source was, he continued, “Professor Dumbledore believed that R would be far more likely to use you in order to try and get into the Cursed Vaults, as that is their ultimate goal. According to him, you have a natural ability that meant that you might be of use to them, in that regard.”

“Yeah, I’m a Legilimens. Rakepick had me open the fourth Cursed Vault because of that,” Artemis nodded. “Did they ever do it? Try to kidnap me, I mean.”

Artemis was almost disappointed when Kingsley shook his head again.

“No, never,” he said. “When you left for Hogwarts, I’d been monitoring the house for over two year. There was no sign of your brother, all leads towards the Cabal had disappeared, and no attempt had been made to kidnap you. It was decided that the case would be dropped.”

“So you left.”

“So I left.”

“And you never told me anything,” Artemis said indignantly. “You just let me believe that you were my friend, and all this time you were just there because you had to be.”

Kingsley’s response was simple. “No.”

“Actually, yes. You were only pretending to be my friend because it was your job.”

“My job was to monitor the house, not to befriend you,” Kingsley told her in his still-calm voice. “I’d say that I did that out of my own volition, but that isn’t entirely true. You know, you were very stubborn for someone so small.”

Artemis was still stubborn.

“Well, you should have told me who you really were, and not kept this great big bloody secret from me the whole time,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest and glaring at Kingsley.

“I couldn’t do that, Tiny.”

“Yeah, you could.”

“You were only a child.”

“So? I would’ve kept it a secret.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Kingsley sighed deeply. “You were so young. How could anyone tell you about the danger you were in? You were eight years old, the country had been at war since you were born, your father had died, your brother was missing. Telling you would have taken away what little security you had left.”

The look in Kingsley’s eyes was earnest. Artemis narrowed her eyes at him and tilted her head.

“Someone else decided that, didn’t they?” she said. “Someone else told you not to tell me for my own good.”

“They did.”

“Who?”

“Your mother,” said Kingsley, and Artemis’ mouth dropped open a little. “And she was right.” He raised his eyebrows at Moody as he added, “Even if she hadn’t been, I’m not sure I’d have wanted to argue with her, not with the number of duelling competitions she won back in her day.”

“If my mother was so worried about me, she could have just taken me away somewhere safe. Gone back to America or something.”

“No, she couldn’t,” Moody spoke from behind Artemis, and she turned in her seat to see him swigging from a hip flask. “She tried, but she wasn’t allowed to move out of the house.”

“Why not?”

“There was a peculiarity in your father’s will. He left… What were the words? Aye. ‘All his earthly possessions and his position as the head of his house to be solely inherited by his surviving issue’.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means that you and your brother got everything, including the control of the household. And until you were of age, your brother had full control of you, too. Your mother couldn’t take you out of the country without Jacob’s permission to do so, and with him missing, he wasn’t in a position where he was able to give it, was he?” Moody took another swig of his flask. “Typical of Leander Hexley. Always had to use the clever way to phrase things, rather than talking straight to the point. Made a point of bloody overcomplicating things.”

“I wouldn’t know. I was so young when he died, I don’t really remember him,” Artemis shrugged, and turned back to Kingsley. “So, R just stopped caring?”

“I wouldn’t say that exactly, but we didn’t have any leads about them for a few years,” he replied. “Not until the year after you left for school. We became aware during our first investigation that an individual named Loken Burke had been a part of the Cabal, but he disappeared around the same time as your brother did. Suddenly, his name started cropping up again, but even after all these years, finding him has proved… difficult.”

“How come?”

“Burke is a Metamorphmagus. He can change his appearance at will, much like your friend Tonks.”

As if on cue, there was a loud clatter from outside the cubicle, as if a filing cabinet had been knocked over. Artemis and the two Aurors looked up in the direction of the din, and Moody took another swig from his hip flask before skulking away, leaving Artemis alone with Kingsley Shacklebolt.

She frowned as she looked him up and down once more. The man she had known as Reggie had once been her closest - her only - friend. At one point, she had even wished desperately that he might be her father. And over the years since she had last seen him, she had imagined meeting him again several times, but she had never imagined that it would be like this. She had never thought that Reggie might be anyone other than who she had believed him to be, but here was the proof that she had been wrong. Reggie the Muggle was not Reggie the Muggle at all. He was Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Auror. The stranger. And yet, though he was a stranger, he still felt so familiar to her. It was a peculiar feeling, and she wasn’t sure that she liked it.

“Why bother telling me all this now?” she asked him. “Why not before, when you first thought that R was becoming active again?”

“I wasn’t allowed,” said Kingsley, and though he had cast a muffling charm on the cubicle, he lowered his voice. “But I did anyway.”

“What?”

“I sent you a letter. Anonymously, using my family’s house elf as a messenger. I told you to be careful, but-”

“Remain courageous,” Artemis’ eyebrows shot upwards. “Wait, that was you?”

“Don’t tell Moody.”

“I won’t. I told you, I am great at keeping secrets.”

“I’m sure you are, Tiny,” Kingsley chuckled, and he leaned forward again. “Perhaps you will make a good Auror, after all.”

“I don’t want to be an Auror. I’d just rather be here than in the Portkey Office, that’s all.”

“Well, maybe you’d like to be an Auror for the next couple of weeks. I could do with having an assistant,” Kingsley cocked an eyebrow at Artemis, and after a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. “Excellent. Have you gotten any better at making drinks since I last saw you? I don’t know about you, but I could do with a cup of tea.”

Artemis laughed as Kingsley conjured two mugs, and she laughed harder when she was outside the Auror office and a thought struck her.

She couldn’t wait to see the look on Madam Rosmerta’s face when she told her about her first day of work experience.

The rest of Artemis’ time at the Ministry of Magic was far more enjoyable than the first morning. By the following Thursday she was used to her new routine: meeting Charlie and Tonks at the Leaky Cauldron and travelling down to Whitehall, stopping to pick up coffee for Kingsley at the snack bar in the atrium before making her way up to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement ready for roll call, where the Aurors - and, by extension, Artemis and Tonks - would be allocated their tasks for the day, and accompanying Kingsley on his less dangerous calls.

“So, that just leaves Madam Wolfe’s complaint about the intruder in Marylebone,” said Moody, coming to the end of the list of the day’s tasks. “Shacklebolt, it’s your turn.”

Kingsley gave a soft groan, and Artemis frowned.

“What does he mean, it’s your turn?” she asked him, as the other Aurors either tittered or let out audible sighs of relief.

“Madam Hysteria Wolfe,” Kingsley said to Artemis, his voice low so as not to interrupt Moody. “She contacts us a few times a month. It’s always a waste of time, but we can’t ignore her.”

“If she’s wasting everyone’s time, I don’t see why not.”

“Because, Hexley,” said Moody, clearly having heard Artemis in spite of her efforts to lower her voice, “just because something has never amounted to anything before, that doesn’t mean that it will always amount to nothing.”

“Constant vigilance,” Tonks piped up. Moody looked at her, and she pointed at him and winked theatrically, causing him to roll both his magical and non-magical eyes.

Having been to Madam Wolfe’s house before, Kingsley was able to apparate directly to the bustling Marylebone street outside it. The house itself was small and somewhat dilapidated, and had several plants in pots floating in front of it, all of them in various stages of wilting.

“Don’t say anything unless she asks you a direct question,” Kingsley murmured as they heard footsteps approaching the front door. “And try and keep your answers to one word.”

Artemis shrugged. “Fine.”

The front door opened, and a skinny, middle-aged witch with thin blonde hair peered around the frame.

“Madam Wolfe, I think we’ve met before. I’m-”

“Auror Shacklebolt. Yes, I remember you from last time,” Madam Wolfe pulled the door open and beckoned Kingsley inside before turning away and walking down the corridor. She continued to talk in a fast mumble, not even looking at Kingsley as she spoke. “Yes, I think last time you came it was when the attic was rattling. You conjured a ladder and cast a spell, and told me that no one was there. I had to call again a few days later, because the attic was rattling again, but they told me that no one was there that time, either.”

“I understand that you’re concerned that you might have had an intruder this week, as well.”

“Yes, I’m very concerned. Incredibly concerned. You see, I was outside in the back garden two nights ago - it’s not really a garden, more like a courtyard, but I always call it a garden - and I was there last night, too. I always go out there in the evening, because I have cats and I like to make sure that they’re back inside and that they’ve not been stolen before I go to bed. Anyway, the night before last I was there and I thought that I heard a noise, a noise like this” - Madam Wolfe stopped suddenly and made a strange sound somewhere between a honk and a hiss - “and I thought, ‘well, that is very strange’, because none of my cats have ever made that noise before. But then, Miss Skimbles appeared over the wall-”

“Miss who?”

“Miss Skimbles. She’s my prize Ragdoll, she’s had her photograph in the Daily Prophet before. She’s beautiful, has these lovely blue eyes, more blue than any eyes you’ve ever seen before on a cat, but she is prone to catching colds, has been since the black cat flu epidemic of ‘83, so I assumed she had another cold. I had an appointment at St Mungo’s Hospital yesterday, and I asked Healer Buckthorn - she’s very good, still has time to see me even though she’s head Healer now - and she said that she was probably fine. I still wasn’t sure though, after all, what cat who is absolutely fine would make a noise like this?”

Madam Wolfe made the strange sound again. Artemis looked from the witch to Kingsley, whose face was passive and was nodding sympathetically, and stared at him in disbelief.

“Well, I got back from the hospital and I went about my day as usual, and then last night I was in the garden and I heard that noise again” - another demonstration - “and this time I knew it wasn’t Miss Skimbles, because she was tucked up in bed early. Well, I thought she had a cold, so I made sure she went to bed so that she would have some rest. So, I looked around the garden, and that’s when I saw him.”

“The intruder?”

“Yes, Auror Shacklebolt, the intruder. He was right there, plain as day, in my garden, sitting behind my bin.”

“I see,” Kingsley conjured a notebook and pencil. “Could you describe the intruder to me, Madam Wolfe?”

“Well, he was quite large, white, with very dark beady eyes,” said Madam Wolfe, and Kingsley began to write in the notebook. “He had wide, flat feet, and a rather long neck.” She paused, before adding, “Oh, and he was a swan.”

Kingsley stopped writing.

“A swan?”

“Yes, a swan,” Madam Wolfe nodded earnestly. Artemis took a step back from her. “Well? Don’t you think that’s highly suspicious? After all, we are nowhere near the Thames.”

Artemis opened her mouth to suggest that perhaps the swan had come from one of the nearby parks, but Kingsley silenced her with a look before she had the chance to speak.

“Maybe we could take a look at the swan,” Kingsley suggested. “It might have some distinguishing features, that we could-”

“But, you see, that’s the most suspicious thing about it. The swan was gone this morning! He’s not there anymore.”

“That might make this investigation difficult, Madam Wolfe.”

“So, what are you going to do? I’m sure you can see that this is all very concerning. Really, I’m at my wits’ end with it all.”

“I can see that, yes,” said Kingsley, in his slow, reassuring voice. He ripped a page out of his notebook and wrote something on it. “This is what I’m going to do. These are the details for Amos Diggory, a colleague of mine in the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures. If the swan comes back, you can send him an owl, and he will sort it out for you.”

“And if it comes back by tomorrow,” Artemis said, disobeying Kingsley to take up an opportunity for mischief that was too good to miss, “you should definitely ask if Charlie Weasley can come with him to help. He’s great with swans.”

Having placated Madam Wolfe, Kingsley decided that he and Artemis had earned an early lunch break.

“Besides,” he added quietly, “I have someone I’d like to check in with.”

“A friend?”

“An informant. She’s an ex-Azkaban inmate, very good at getting information. Bit brusque, but very reliable.”

Artemis tilted her head. “Is her name Jane Court, by any chance?”

“Ah, so you know her.”

In an alleyway beside a Muggle café, Kingsley conjured a lynx patronus and spoke to it in a low voice. The patronus disappeared, and Kingsley took Artemis inside the café. Just as they started to eat, there was a loud crack from outside, as if a Muggle car had backfired, and Artemis’ old school prefect Jane Court walked into the café and straight over to the table where Artemis and Kingsley were sitting. At the sight of Artemis, she raised her blonde eyebrows slightly, but other than that, she showed no sign of surprise at her being there.

“What news, Jane?” Kingsley asked her, pushing a sandwich and cup of coffee towards her as she sat down. Jane ignored the sandwich, but picked up the coffee and took a large sip before answering .

“I’ve been keeping an ear out for news of Burke. There’s been nothing on him for over a week. He’s gone completely quiet.”

“That’s disquieting.”

“Not as disquieting as Fletcher three days ago.”

“What has old Mundungus been up to this time?”

“For once, it wasn’t him that was up to something,” Jane muttered darkly. “He was attacked in Knockturn Alley.”

“I wonder why that was.”

“He said the attack was completely unprovoked.”

Kingsley chuckled. “He always does.”

“Yes, but this time I believed him,” said Jane, her eyebrows knitting together. “I saw the end of it, and it was only when I drew more attention to what was going on that the attacker left, disapparated away. He didn’t seem too keen to attract more attention than necessary, and Fletcher said that it was only when he caught sight of the bloke’s face that he pulled his wand on him.”

“Interesting. Did you get a look at the wizard at all?”

“Fairly young, in his early thirties at most. Slim build, tall-ish. Cropped black hair, dark eyes, fair complexion considering that he was Asian. I’d say he was Japanese. And he was wearing white robes.”

Jane’s voice had a pointed tone to it, and though Kingsley’s face was calm, Artemis noticed his eyes widen fractionally.

“What?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Mahoukatoro Wizarding School,” said Kingsley, his voice quiet. “Students who are expelled for practising dark magic have a spell placed upon their robes that causes them to turn white.”

“So?”

“The most recent student to be expelled from Mahoukatoro was eventually imprisoned” - Kingsley breathed through his nose - “in Japan.”

Artemis frowned. “You mean Shiratori, don’t you?”

Kingsley nodded slowly, and Jane crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“They call him the White Ghost,” she explained, “because it’s like he can walk through walls. No one knows how he got out of a Japanese prison cell. The security is supposed to be as tight as it is in Azkaban, and no one has ever managed to break out of Azkaban before. I don’t see how they could. And as for how he got all the way here, if that really was him Fletcher saw in Knockturn Alley…”

“Thank you, Jane.” Kingsley reached into his pocket and placed a handful of Muggle money on the table. “That was very helpful. Artemis, we need to get back to the Ministry.”

On the street outside, Kingsley held out his arm to Artemis, and no sooner had she taken it than he had Apparated the pair of them back to the atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

“What was the name of the wizard in charge of the Japanese ambassador’s Portkey?” Kingsley asked Artemis.

“Basil.”

“Wait here, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Artemis watched Kingsley speed away to the elevators, and she wandered across the atrium to where she could just about make out the red haired head of Charlie Weasley leaning against the edge of the fountain.

“You look out of breath,” she told him as she approached him. “What’ve you been up to?”

“Chasing a Niffler,” he said, taking a bite of the homemade sandwich he held in his hands. “Madam Green in the Department of Mysteries asked us to get rid of it. It was trying to steal crystal balls and causing havoc.”

“How long did it take to catch it?”

“Didn’t,” Charlie shrugged. “The bloody thing ran out of the crystal ball room and we lost it in the space room. Barnaby and Liz are still there, I just got to go on lunch early because I have to go and help Mr Diggory deal with a lady in Marylebone who found a creature in her garden. How are things with the Aurors?”

“Good. Kingsley bought me a pasty.”

“You’ve been working hard, then.”

“We have been working, too. We are investigating something to do with that Japanese prisoner who escaped.”

“What to do with him?”

“Not sure, Kingsley went off to do… something. I’m not sure what,” Artemis craned her neck to look in the direction of the lifts, and saw Kingsley making his way back through the crowds towards her. “He’s back now. I’ll see you at the end of the day. Good luck catching that swan.”

“Swan?” Charlie’s nose wrinkled as he frowned. “What swan?”

Realising that she’d almost given the game away, Artemis gave Charlie a guileless-looking smile and sped away from him before he could ask any more questions.

“We have a lead to follow,” Kingsley said to Artemis, steering her towards one of the fireplaces that formed an exit from the atrium to the street above.

“What’s that?”

“Karasu’s Portkey.”

“I thought it got stolen.”

“Not that Portkey,” Kingsley shook his head. “The one he was meant to use for his return journey. Basil doesn’t know if the Japanese embassy cancelled it. We are going to see if it made its way back here without him, and if so, whether it transported anyone else here instead.”

“Shiratori?”

“Shiratori.”

The Portkey Tulip’s father was supposed to take back from Japan to England had been set up to transport him back to a quiet corner of Highgate Woods. Kingsley and Artemis spent the rest of the day traipsing through the woods with wands lit, searching for the Portkey. Eventually, Artemis found what they were looking for: an empty packet of Japanese sweets.

“Here, Kingsley!” she levitated the object so that Kingsley could see it more clearly, and as she did, noticed something white underneath it. “Wait, what’s that?”

Kingsley crouched down to examine the object, frowning as he did so.

“It’s a feather,” he said quietly. “A white feather.”

“Maybe it’s from Madam Wolfe’s swan,” said Artemis, grinning mischievously. Kingsley chuckled softly, but with less enthusiasm than usual. As he stopped laughing, his frown deepened.

“I wonder,” he murmured, and pointed his wand at the feather. “Reparifarge!”

The white feather disappeared, and in its place lay a scroll of parchment. Kingsley used his wand to levitate and unroll it, and Artemis stood on her tiptoes to read what it said. Unfortunately, she couldn’t understand a word, as the writing was in an unfamiliar script.

“I don’t recognise these runes,” she said, looking up at Kingsley, whose face was grim.

“This isn’t runic, Tiny. This is Japanese.”

“But, wouldn’t that mean that-”

“Shiratori is here.”

“So, if Shiratori arrived in England using the ambassador’s return Portkey from Japan…”

“Whoever stole the Portkey the ambassador was meant to take to Japan must be in league with Shiratori.”

Beside Artemis, Tonks put down her morning coffee and let out a low whistle.

“So, not a Niffler after all,” she said, and both Kingsley and Moody turned to look at her.

“It would appear not,” said Moody gruffly, and he turned his magical eye towards Artemis. “Hexley, you were in the Portkey office that day. What happened?”

“Well, I turned up in the morning. I didn’t know where I was meant to go, but Mr Cattermole helped me find my way. When I got to the Portkey office, Basil was sorting out the Portkey,” Artemis said, as Kingsley made notes in his conjured notebook. “I went and had lunch, and when I was back the ceiling started to rain. Everyone left the office, I went to get Mr Cattermole to fix it, and then Tulip’s dad - the Ambassador, I mean - came for the Portkey and it had gone.”

“Basil was certain that the Portkey was in the office when he left because of the ceiling malfunction,” muttered Moody. “I’d say that was a diversion to allow the thief access to the Portkey. Did you see anyone tampering with the ceiling, Hexley?”

“No, but it could’ve happened when I was at lunch or before I arrived.”

Moody made a gravelly humming noise, and Kingsley closed and vanished his notebook.

“I think it would be worth talking to magical maintenance,” he said, slowly and calmly. “See what would need to be done in order to cause the ceiling to rain like it did.”

“True. Get a memo to Cattermole. We can take a witness statement at the same time.”

A paper airplane was created and sent to to Magical Maintenance, and shortly before lunch, Reggie Cattermole appeared in the Auror office.

“You sent for me?” he asked, slowly sitting down as Kingsley gestured to an empty chair.

“We wanted to discuss with you what happened in the Portkey office last Monday,” Kingsley told Cattermole. “What you saw there in the day, and anything you might know about what might have caused the ceiling to malfunction in the office like it did.”

“What might cause the ceiling to rain, you mean? I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything quite like that before. Normally, any rain is limited to the windows. They’re charmed to give sunlight, but sometimes, when it rains above ground, it rains in the windows too. Not a problem as such, but I often get called out to stop that. People don’t like the noise whilst they’re trying to work, you see.”

“So, it isn’t normal for the ceilings to rain?”

“Not at all. You’d probably have to enchant the ceiling specially to do that. But why would anyone want their office to rain?”

“In order to clear it of personnel,” Moody growled. “In order to engage in foul play. See anything of the sort on your travels, Cattermole?”

“No, but then I only arrived after the ceiling had started raining.”

“What about earlier in the day?”

Cattermole frowned. “Earlier in the day?”

“Miss Hexley here says that you were in the Department that morning as well.”

“No,” Cattermole shook his head. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were,” said Artemis. “You helped me find my way, remember?”

“You must have me mistaken for someone else. It happens a lot. I have one of those faces, and when you work in maintenance, most people just see the uniform.”

“I didn’t mistake you for anyone,” Artemis told him. “It was definitely you, I remembered you because you said your name was Reggie, and I had a friend - well, I guess I still do have a friend - called Reggie. Remember?”

But Cattermole shook his head again. “No one calls me Reggie. Just Reg.”

“So,” said Kingsley, his dark eyebrows slightly furrowed, “if you weren’t in the Department of Magical Transportation this morning, where were you?”

“I… Well, I…” Cattermole paused and scratched his head, looking more baffled than he did dishonest. “You know, I really don’t know.”

Artemis opened her mouth, but shut it again without speaking after Kingsley gave her a warning look.

“You don’t know where you were on Monday morning?”

“I was here. I was definitely at work, because I remember checking in, and going to my office, but after that… It’s strange, but I don’t remember anything after that. How bizarre.”

Kingsley and Moody shared glances, and Cattermole continued to look thoroughly confused.

“From what point in the day do you remember, Mr Cattermole?”

Cattermole frowned. “I suppose it must be around lunchtime. Yes, because I felt a little hungry, and thought that it must have been mid-morning, but when I looked at the clock, it was gone midday. I remember thinking that the morning had really flown by.”

“Thank you, Mr Cattermole,” Kingsley said with a small smile. “That will be all. We will let you know if we have any further questions.”

Four pairs of eyes followed Reg Cattermole as he left the Auror office. The door clicked shut behind him, and Moody and Kingsley turned to each other.

“Do you believe him?”

“I think I do,” said Kingsley, and he glanced at Artemis. “What about you, Tiny? You’re the mind reader here, after all.”

“I believed him,” Artemis told Kingsley. “What he said about not going to the Transport Department in the morning wasn’t true, but he wasn’t lying, either. He really didn’t remember being there.”

“Did he seem confused when you saw him that morning?” Kingsley asked, and Artemis shook her head. “Not confunded, then. Acting under the Imperius Curse, perhaps? With memory modification afterwards?”

“Could well be,” Moody took a swig from his hip flask. “Could also be that he was Stunned and an impostor took his place.”

“It might be worth searching the Maintenance Department. There may be Polyjuice traces on some of the surfaces.”

“There might. Or there might not.”

Moody’s two eyes - both magical and non-magical - drifted across to look at Tonks.

“Well, it wasn’t me!” Tonks scowled at him.

“Not you, no,” Kingsley said, his lips twitching briefly. He sighed and nodded slowly. “Burke.”

“The one you think is part of R? The Metamorphmagus?” Artemis frowned. “Why would he be wanting to help Shiratori?”

“Maybe he’s hoping that Shiratori will help him.”

“Help him with what?”

“Shiratori was held in prison. Shiratori has broken free,” Moody said as he unscrewed the lid of his hip flask again. “Perhaps R are hoping he can break others free, as well.”

Artemis gritted her teeth and nodded.

“Rakepick,” she said.

“Got it in one,” Moody muttered. He took another swig from his hip flask and stood up. “Better contact Azkaban, get them to increase her security. Tonks, come with me.”

Artemis and Kingsley were left alone again. Kingsley raised a questioning eyebrow and looked at Artemis with concern in his dark brown eyes.

“How are you doing?” he asked, and Artemis shrugged, not sure how to respond. “You’re a brave girl. A brave young woman, these days. Very few people would be able to face what you have faced with half as much courage as you have.”

“I dunno,” said Artemis. “I never really thought about it as being brave, just doing what felt like the right thing to do at the time.”

“Sometimes doing the right thing can be an act of bravery in itself.”

“Yeah, maybe. Where are you going with this?”

Kingsley chuckled, his low laughter almost melodic, and not unkind in the slightest.

“I’m trying to say that I’m proud of you, Tiny,” he said softly. “And I’m trying to tell you that you don’t always have to act so tough all the time. Not on your own, anyway.”

“I know that.”

“Good. So, without telling me that you don’t know, how are you feeling about the trial?”

“I don’t…” Artemis sighed. “The thing is, Kingsley, I really don’t know. I don’t know what’s going to happen at the trial, or after, and so I don’t know how I feel.”

“I see,” said Kingsley, and he leaned forward in his chair. “So, at the trial, the Wizengamot will question both Rakepick and your brother about their involvement with R, the Cursed Vaults, and the deaths of both your brother’s friend and yours. They will call witnesses to give testimony - such as yourself - regarding certain events, and then the court will vote as to whether or not they are guilty. Rakepick will be sentenced to a life in Azkaban prison, and she will stay there, Shiratori or no Shiratori.”

“And my brother?”

“As far as I am aware, your brother has committed no crimes. I see no reason why he should be condemned as a guilty man, and I shall say as much if I am called to give testimony for his trial as well as Rakepick’s.”

“You’ll be there giving testimony, too?” Artemis asked, and Kingsley inclined his head.

“I’ll be right there beside you.”

#artemis hexley #hogwarts mystery #hphm fic #hphm #kingsley shacklebolt #mad eye moody #nymphadora tonks #charlie weasley #jane court #kazuhiro shiratori

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marjansmarwani · 3 years

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I'm standing guard, I'm falling apart

5.1k || ao3

When Carlos and his partner encounter the bank robber with the bomb, Carlos knows in his gut that the man is telling the truth. But it's not that simple because nothing ever is so when the man offers a compromise Carlos jumps at it and he tries to help him by removing the bomb. It does not end well, and it's left to TK and his crew to pick up the pieces.

TK wants nothing more than for Carlos to be okay, than for this nightmare to be over, but when Gabriel Reyes arrives it's clear that the universe is not done throwing curveballs at them yet. ----- Day 3 of Angst Week: Coda/Fix-it for 2x08

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

“Trust your instincts, Carlitos,” his dad had told him, “they are the only thing in life that won’t steer you wrong.”

He had been 15 at the time and he and his dad had spent hours together, working side by side on the ranch, Gabriel dropping words of wisdom as they came to him and interspacing it all with anecdotes and thrilling stories from his job. It was normal, such a typical part of his life that he didn’t think about it until it had happened less and less shortly after he had turned 17, shortly after he had a certain conversation with his parents.

Logically he knew there were a number of reasons for this: he had graduated high school shortly after and was around the ranch less and less. His dad had gotten a promotion and was working longer hours. There were any number of reasons that all made perfect sense, but Carlos could never shake the feeling that maybe that one conversation had been one of them. It didn’t change the fact that those hours and those stories and chats had been so formative to Carlos. They were a large part of the reason he had become a cop, and they were a large part of what shaped his conscious and his decision-making process.

And now, standing in an alley with his gun leveled at a man with a bomb strapped to his neck and a bag of stolen money in his hands, it came back to him again: trust your instincts.

His instincts told him this man was telling the truth, that he was being forced and that his life was in danger. He believed him when he told him that he wanted nothing more than to get home to his son, to little Enrique. But he couldn’t just let him walk away with a bag full of several thousand dollars — not if he wanted to keep his job.

Mitchell and the suspect were both watching him, both waiting for him to come to a decision, to break the tie. He knew what his partner wanted to do. He knew that she wanted to follow the book, but his instincts were screaming at him that it wasn’t right, that they would be condemning an innocent man to death and a child to a life without his father.

Perhaps the man sensed his hesitation; maybe he somehow knew that Carlos was on the fence because when he spoke next it was directed to him, and it was a compromise: “If you can get this thing off of me,” he began, voice steady but eyes still pleading, “I will give you the money and go with you. I’ll tell you everything I know about the people who did this. Please, I—” he broke off and when he continued his voice had lost its steadiness. It was full of desperation, “I don’t want to die.”

Carlos looked at Mitchell, but he was already lowering his gun. They communicated silently for a moment before his partner relented, lowering her own weapon, “Fine, but we are not touching it. We are calling for the bomb squad.”

“There’s not enough time for that,” the man protested. “If I’m in one place for too long they’ll know something is wrong. And if they think something is wrong…” he trailed off, but Carlos could fill in the blanks pretty well.

“Go ahead and radio for the bomb squad,” Carlos told Mitchell as he holstered his weapon, “but I’m going to take a look. I think he’s right and that means we don’t have that kind of time on our side.”

“Reyes—”

“We don’t have a lot of options here, Mitchell,” he reminded her tersely. “Either we run the risk of driving what is possibly an active explosive device into a police station or we let him go. I think this is the best shot we have, for everyone involved.”

She bit her lip, but nodded, “Do what you can, but please try not to get yourself blown up Reyes. That’s an awful lot of paperwork.”

“I’ll do my best,” he agreed as he stepped forward, gesturing for the man to turn so he could see the mechanism clasped around his neck. It looked fairly simple, at first glance, but there were some wires that were concerning, to say the least.

“Anything you could tell me that might help?” he asked the man wryly, but he shook his head frantically.

“No, they just held me down and put it on. I couldn’t stop them. I…” he broke off with a sob and Carlos could feel his heart clench.

“Hey,” he told him evenly, “we’re going to do everything we can to get you out of this and home safe to Enrique, I promise. I just need you to stay calm and still. Can you do that?”

He waited until the man started to nod before thinking better of it and instead giving him a small, quiet, “Yes.”

“That’s good,” Carlos told him bracingly, “now just hang tight and I’m sure we’ll have this off in no time.”

He felt around the band holding it to his neck. While the device itself looked complex, closer inspection showed him that it was secured to the terrified man by simple straps. He made quick work of them with his utility knife, and even though some were too close to wires for his comfort he is still able to cut enough of them that between him and his partner, they are able to ease it off the man.

When it is finally off he nearly sags in relief, almost collapsing on the ground before them and only held aloof by Mitchell’s bracing hold.

“Thank you,” he told him appreciatively, “thank you! I thought...thank you.”

“Of course,” Carlos said evenly, studied the device now in his hands, “I’m just glad we were able to get it off without incident.”

“Maybe they were lying to me,” the man admitted, “I was too scared to ask too many questions. Maybe it’s just a fake after all.”

Carlos wanted to believe him, but while he was no expert in explosives the contraption in his hands did not look fake. His opinion was reinforced when the lights started blinking more rapidly, and the man paled.

“The tracker,” he whispered. “They must have realized that I’m not coming, they must have triggered it. I’m so…”

But Carlos didn’t wait to hear the rest of his apology. “Get down!” he instructed Mitchell, who pulled the man down with her even as his desperate eyes followed the device and his mouth still moved in soundless apologies. Carlos pulled his arm back and launched the device as far away from them as he could, further into the alley before them. Maybe he could throw it far enough, maybe it wouldn’t be a large explosion. Maybe whoever had made it wasn’t good with explosives, maybe it wouldn’t even…

But all of his conjecture was cut short by a resounding boom as the device exploded in the air. The force of the blast pushed him off his feet and the searing heat caught him on the way down. It was disorienting; loud and fast and hot. He could feel his body being pelted by debris, he could feel the sharp pain as it sliced through him on its way by. He hit the ground with a resounding crash that echoed in his head as it bounced off the ground as pain bloomed from everywhere all at once. His last view was of bits of destruction raining down like snow, gently drifting as it obeyed gravity. It could have been beautiful if it hadn’t been for the pain.

He blinked again, feeling his eyes grow heavy. He wanted to look around, to check on his partner and the man who had formerly had a bomb stuck to his chest. He couldn’t summon the energy to move an inch. He supposed he could take the small comfort of having been right, he supposed as his eyes drifted closed. His instincts had been right, on all of this.

His last fleeting thought before everything went black was that sometimes he wouldn’t mind if his instincts were wrong.

-----------

The 126 paramedic crew pulled up to the scene in tense silence. The intel had been spotty but what they knew was enough to have TK gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles were white: there had been reports of an explosion, there had been police on the scene before the explosion, and those police could not be reached now.

That was all they knew because it was all dispatch had been able to piece together. There was no saying what kind of explosion or what kind of destruction it had left behind. There was no knowing what had gone down or who the officers ever were. All TK knew was that his gut was filled with a dread that grew incrementally as he sped towards the scene. He knew that his team had picked up on his tension, that they understood how his fear was different from theirs. He couldn’t put into words how much he appreciated them letting him be.

There was an eerie silence over the scene as they stepped out of the ambulance when they arrived. They weren’t far from the main street; it was as if a hush had fallen over the alley in reverence to the fallen. Because there were fallen — they could see that now as they drew closer. Three figures sprawled on the ground; unmoving and surrounded by destruction. They gathered their gear and rushed forward, Tommy alerting dispatch that they would require additional RA units to respond.

It was another step and another heartbeat before TK realized just how well he knew one of the fallen figures and in that instant, he couldn’t breathe. His feet moved forward of their own accord and his mind frantically tried to process every detail of the horrible sight before him as he crashed to his knees besides Carlos’s still form. There was blood, but he couldn’t tell from where. Burns were likely too, given the singe marks and lingering heat. But TK’s chief concern was that Carlos wasn’t moving, that there had been no acknowledgment of his arrival. Even in sleep, Carlos seemed to know when TK was nearby but now, there was nothing.

He reached out a shaking hand to his neck, holding his breath as he waited, as he prayed to feel the familiar thrum of a pulse under his hand. For a long moment, there was nothing and TK was sure he would shatter. But he shifted his hand because Carlos couldn’t die today and tried again. He waited, every ounce of his being focused on the hand on Carlos’s pulse point until a slow but steady rhythm began to beat under his fingers and TK finally allowed himself to breathe.

“Pulse is weak but present,” he announced to Tommy who had kneeled beside him, his voice sounding strange even to his own ears. His captain nodded and reached into her bag, pulling out her gear as she appraised TK.

“Are you good Strand?” she asked. “Usually I would tell you to stand down, but given the situation, we don’t really have a choice. I need all hands on deck.”

TK took a deep breath and nodded, reaching into the case beside him to pull out what they would need. No, he was not good but he knew Tommy was right: there was no other option. Either he did this or risked losing Carlos for good, and he would always do anything in his power to stop that from happening. That was not an option he could live with. “I’ve got this Cap, what do you need me to do?”

“Start the exam while I finish up his vitals. We need to know what we’re dealing with here.”

“What about the other two?” he asked even as he started following her instructions. “Don’t you need to…”

But Tommy shook her head, “They’re both relatively fine, Nancy can handle them until more help arrives. Reyes here seems to have taken the brunt of the blast.”

TK nodded without hesitation. It sounded like Carlos, after all: always trying to be everyone’s shield.

He began his exam, starting with his head. It seemed like every moment revealed a new injury: blood on the back of his head, likely from a fall. Cuts and abrasions of various sizes littered across his body, fragments of what looked like a car taking up residence where they didn’t belong. Each new discovery struck TK like a physical blow, but he pushed on.

The head injury was the most concerning, for a while. But as TK moved forward, as he examined more he learned that was not the case. There was a large piece of sharp metal sticking out of the left side of his abdomen and though TK had no way of knowing how long it was, it looked as if the majority of it was buried inside Carlos’s body, far far too close to vital organs for TK to breathe easily. He sucked in a breath and alerted Tommy, who grimaced when she saw it.

“Pack it tightly,” she instructed him, handing him the gauze and tape necessary for the job, “make sure there is no room for it to move during transport. We want it held still until they are able to remove it at the hospital.”

TK nodded and took the gauze, tightly winding it around the intrusive object so that it held firm. He watched with dread as the gauze steadily turned red as blood sluggishly leaked out from around it. There were so many ways an injury like this could go wrong, too many ways that it could turn fatal. The thought alone was almost enough to send TK reeling but he pushed it down. This wasn’t the time; Carlos needed him here. He needed him focused. He couldn’t risk falling apart when the very existence of the one person who just might mean more to him than anyone else in this world depended on it.

TK and Tommy had finished examining Carlos and packing what wounds they could to prep him for transport when the requested additional units arrived. Tommy gave them a run down as TK and Nancy loaded Carlos onto the gurney and transferred him to the back of the ambulance. Not a word was said when TK climbed into the back instead of the driver’s seat, Nancy stepping around to take that spot instead without a word.

As they drove he and Tommy continued working; monitoring and treating Carlos the best they could. In all that time and all the movement, Carlos had not stirred once and TK tried hard not to think about that, to dwell on what it might mean. He managed to hold it together, to stay professional and focused until they arrived at the hospital and unloaded the gurney, Tommy relaying the necessary info to the medical team that met them at the doors.

He held it together until the moment Carlos’s still and bloody form disappeared through the doors of the trauma bay. Then, with nothing left to focus on, he finally let the tears come.

He felt arms around him and felt himself being guided to a chair that he sank into gratefully, aware now that his entire body was trembling. Now that they were here and now that Carlos was in the care of the doctors, the situation was out of his control. Whatever happened now, he had no say in. He had done all he could and he had to hope that it was enough. Carlos’s injuries returned to him in flashes and TK knew with a sinking dread this was not going to be a short wait. It would be a while before any news came; good or bad.

So he sat here in the waiting room, tears running down his face and his team at his side, waiting for the answer he knew would come eventually, hoping and praying that it would be one he could live with. That somehow, despite all the odds, Carlos would be okay.

TK couldn’t lose him, it was as simple as that.

---------

After a while, there are no more tears left.

It was a surprisingly short time before he cried himself dry, until he pulled himself together and settled into quiet fear. Tommy and Nancy settled in to wait with him, offering their quiet reassurances and comforting presence until their radios sounded. He found words enough to assure then that it would be fine, that he understood. That he would be fine on his own. They didn’t look like they believed him, but what other choice did they have? So, with a promise that he would keep them updated and that they and the rest of the crew would be by as soon as they could, they were gone and TK was alone.

He sat in silence, alone in the waiting room, trying to keep his mind from spiraling. But no amount of bouncing his leg could keep him from picturing the scene, from thinking of what Carlos must have gone through, from imagining the worst. He twisted his hands in his lap, noticing a spot of blood that had slipped past the protection of his gloves on the inside of his wrist. He swallowed and turned his arm so he couldn’t see it. He didn’t need a physical reminder; the scene was still all too fresh in his head.

Every single detail of it was seared into his mind and TK knew with a sinking dread that this was one of those times where being a paramedic put him at a disadvantage. He had seen more than his fair share of injuries and over time, you got a sense from the ones that people walked away from. The injuries he had treated Carlos for — the ones that had littered the body he loved so well — were not those. He knew that losing Carlos was a real possibility.

He also knew that it wasn’t that simple. He knew that losing Carlos meant losing his world, and he couldn’t face that.

Nearly an hour of silent, solitary waiting passed before he heard footsteps approaching his seat in the waiting room. His mind was still too fractured to process their proximity so when they halted and someone sank into the chair beside him, he hardly gave it a thought (he hardly had a thought left to give). The tears may be gone but the bone-deep fear was ever-present and all-consuming; his constant companion as he sat and waited, rubbing his still shaking hands on his legs.

And so he doesn’t process anything until the figure beside him started speaking: “You know, Carlitos didn’t always want to be a cop. He wanted to be an astronaut first, for the longest time.”

The voice was shaky but startlingly familiar. It took TK a moment to place it but when he did the shock was visceral; running through his whole body as he looked up to see Gabriel Reyes sitting next to him, eyes staring off in the direction of the treatment rooms that currently held his son.

“Maybe if I had encouraged that desire a bit more, we wouldn’t be here,” the man said quietly, sadly. “Maybe he would be a world away, but safe.”

TK didn’t know what to say to that. Somewhere between the shock of his boyfriend’s father appearing and the fact that he was speaking to him as if he knew him TK had lost the ability to speak. He could simply stare.

“I suppose that’s neither here nor there though,” Gabriel continued, “I suppose we are past what-ifs.”

He turned then, taking his first look at TK. He looked him up and down, registering the blood staining his uniform and the anxiety and fear radiating from him with a grim expression. “You treated him,” he observed, voice growing quieter and softer. “First of all, thank you. No matter what happens, thank you.”

His gaze held TK’s, his eyes (so much like Carlos’s it almost broke TK to look at them) sad and heavy with worry. TK swallowed down the tears that threatened to return and nodded.

“I can’t imagine having to do that,” Gabriel continued in the same tone, “I can’t imagine having to keep your head about you when you see someone you care about hurt like that. That shows real strength, in my opinion. I’m not so sure I would be as strong.”

TK heard the words being said, but he simply stared in response. Someone you care about he had said. And the look in his eyes…

“You knew?” TK said, finally finding the words that had eluded him for so long, “About Carlos and I?”

Gabriel nodded, “Since we ran into y’all at the market,” he confirmed.

TK was left staring again, but for a different reason. Carlos’s parents had known. They had known for weeks now. They had known as Carlos tore himself apart, they had known as the secret almost ripped TK and Carlos apart. They had known and they hadn’t said anything.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he finally managed.

“We wanted Carlitos to come to us on his own, in his own time,” Gabriel told him softly. “We didn’t want to push.”

TK watched the older man look sadly back towards the doors separating them from Carlos and for the first time since it happened, he found an emotion besides fear rising up in him.

“It has been eating him alive,” he told Gabriel, voice far stronger and far sharper than before. “It almost cost us our relationship. He is afraid of how you will react, he is so afraid that…” he trailed off, feeling that he was veering into territory he should never enter without Carlos’s consent or presence. He allowed himself a breath before he continued: “He was afraid to tell you and this whole time you’ve known?”

It’s not until his hot anger begins to fade from his mind that he can fully process the reaction from his boyfriend’s father. Gabriel’s eyes are wide in shock and horror, and TK came to his senses with a resounding crash.

“I’m sorry,” he says more softly, calmly. “That was out of line. It’s not my place to—”

“No, I think it is,” Gabriel disagreed, cutting off TK’s apology. “It’s your concern as much as his, after all.”

“Still,” TK tied again, “I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

“Perhaps not,” Gabriel agreed with a dry laugh that felt so foreign amongst the fear still so heavy in TK’s heart, “but it certainly got the point across.”

They studied each other for a moment before Gabriel spoke again, “I know I haven’t been a perfect father,” he admitted, “but I do love my son.”

“I don’t doubt that,” TK assured him. “Carlos loves you too, I know that for sure.”

“And you?” Gabriel asked, fixing him with a piercing gaze. “Do you love my son?”

“I do,” TK said firmly. “More than I have ever loved anyone.”

“Does he love you?”

“Yes,” TK said, without hesitation. “He has never let me doubt that, even when I’ve wanted to.”

There was silence again as the two men regarded each other and after a long moment, Gabriel nodded, expression sad.

“We’ve missed so much,” he said quietly. “We should have done better. We will do better,” he promised, voice stronger as he met TK’s eyes, “when he wakes up.”

His voice was strong and his eyes certain, and TK nodded, taking comfort in the older man’s certainty that there would be a future, that they would get to see Carlos again.

Gabriel smiled at him before continuing, “I’d like to get to know you, TK. You and my son and what you are together; if you’ll let me.”

The expression on the older man’s face was sincere and despite everything, TK managed to find the smallest of smiles.

“I’d like that,” he agreed. “I’d like that very much.”

-----------

If Carlos had to describe everything that came after the pain in a word it would be confusion.

There was pain and then darkness, that he knew for sure. But everything after was a haze. There were moments of awareness (he thinks) here the darkness lifted and he could hear voices. He couldn’t make out the words and the voices didn’t make sense. It sounded like TK and his father, but he didn’t know how that was possible. Awareness didn’t last for long though, so his final thought before he slipped back into the darkness was that his mind was playing tricks on him.

When he woke up again, his head felt clearer. He was more sure that he was actually awake and alive, this time. There were still voices and he could almost make out the words. He could even place them with absolute certainty: they were TK and his father. But that still didn’t make any sense, even to his less hazy mind.

He blinked his eyes open, having to repeat the process several times in order to adjust his eyes enough to see. There was a hand holding his own and he squeezed it, hearing a familiar intake of breath in response.

“Carlos?” TK asked voice choked with emotion, “Can you hear me, babe?”

“Ty,” he said in response, pulling his eyes open fully and tilting his head to drink in the sight of his beautiful boyfriend, grinning through tears. He tried to reach up a hand to wipe them away but his limbs felt heavy.

“Try not to move too much,” TK said softly, “you’re still pretty hurt.”

“What happened?” he asked, and TK looked across his bed before another familiar voice cut through the room.

“What do you remember, Carlitos?”

Carlos whipped his head around to the other side of the bed - or at least, whatever the slow and painful equivalent of whipping his head was - to see his dad sitting in the seat to his right.

“Dad? What’re you...” he trailed off turning to TK again with a baffled expression but his dad pressed on.

“Try to answer the question, mijo. What do you remember?” His dad’s voice was soft but the instruction was clear. Carlos looked into his dad’s eyes as he tried to pull the bits of memory together into a cohesive memory.

“There was a man,” he said slowly, “he robbed a bank, but he didn’t want to.” He paused and his dad nodded and smiled at him, urging him to continue. “There was a bomb around his neck, he said two guys forced it onto him. He said they had a tracker on him so he couldn’t go with us because they would set it off. He said that if we could get it off of him he would come with us though and tell us everything he knew, so I did. I guess it didn’t like that much though, because the last thing I remember is it exploding, I think.”

There was silence as he finished his account and Carlos pieced the rest together in his mind. Mitchell hadn’t wanted him to try, she wanted to wait for the bomb squad…

“Mitchell!” he exclaimed, looking frantically back to TK, “and the man. Are they…?”

“Easy Carlos,” TK said calmly, squeezing his hand again and leaning closer, “don’t worry, they’re fine. A little banged up, but you got the worst of it. It looked like you were closest to the blast,” he added quietly, voice turning more serious. “You were certainly the worst off of the three of you.”

Something in the way TK said it filled him with dread. “Did you…” he began, and TK nodded. “Ty,” he said softly, squeezing his hand this time as best he could, “I...I am so sorry. I wish you never had to see that, I can’t even imagine.”

“Don’t you even start with me, Carlos Reyes,” TK told him firmly. “This was not your fault. You have absolutely nothing to apologize for.”

“Besides,” his dad added from the other side, “I think we should all count our blessings that it was your boy and his team. I have no doubt they are the best and that they would have moved heaven and earth to save you.”

Carlos couldn’t agree more, as much as he would rather TK never have to experience that level of pain on his behalf ever. He was about to say as much when something else his dad said struck him. Your boy. He knew. He knew that TK was his boyfriend. He looked to his dad again, searching his face for any clue before finally asking the question.

“You know?” His dad’s expression didn’t change and Carlos shifted his gaze to TK, who looked down.

“I’m sorry Carlos, I know you wanted to tell them in your own time but…”

“But your boy did nothing wrong, Carlitos,” his dad interrupted, shooting TK a firm look. “We already knew. I approached him. All he did was make me see how we had been hurting you by not acknowledging it and for that, I am so sorry son.”

Carlos blinked at his dad, processing his words before turning to TK with a raised eyebrow, “Do I want to know what happened while I was unconscious?”

TK grimaced and his dad laughed, “I will say you’ve found yourself a tough one. He has spine for sure, mijo.”

“Yeah,” Carlos agreed, studying TK as he winced at his dad’s statement, “he’s pretty special.”

TK relaxed at his words and gave him a warm smile, squeezing his hand gently. Distantly he could see his father watching them fondly and Carlos was struck by the surrealness of this moment. He had pictured this so many times: his boyfriend and his dad co-existing, him casually showing his affection for someone he loved in the presence of his family. He had ached for it for so long and a part of him had always been convinced that it would never be any more than a dream.

Yet here they were. The proof was right before him in the hand holding his own, in the soft kisses pressed to his forehead by the man he loved, in the soft smile of his father as he watched from his chair on the other side of his bed. Never had he expected to find such happiness in the wake of such pain and fear, but he knew he would be eternally grateful for this ending to this disaster because it had brought about a wonderful beginning.

64 notes · View notes

ireadyabooks · 4 years

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Books to Read in 2021

It’s a NEW YEAR, everyone!

We made it through 2020, and whether or not you hit your reading goal this past year, don’t worry! 2021 is a new year for your TBR, and we have an AMAZING line-up of books you should add to your reading list ASAP.

THE LIFE I’M IN

This story of the power of forgiveness and second chances presents the unflinching story of a young woman trapped in the underworld of human trafficking. In Sharon G. Flake's latest and unflinching novel, we follow Charlese Jones, who, with her raw, blistering voice speaks the truths many girls face, offering insight to some of the causes and conditions that make a bully. Turned out of the only home she has known, Char boards a bus to nowhere where she is lured into the dangerous web of human trafficking.

HOLD BACK THE TIDE

A darkly seductive story of murder, betrayal, love, and family secrets in a small town in the Scottish Highlands. Alva knows that her father killed her mother, but she can’t prove it. The more she investigates though, the more she realizes that the truth can be more monstrous than lies/ And while you might be able to outrun anything that emerges from the dark water, you can never escape your past . . .

MUTED

Denver is more than ready on the day she and her best friends Dali and Shak sing their way into the orbit of the biggest R&B star in the world, Sean "Mercury" Ellis. Merc gives them everything: parties, perks, wild nights -- plus hours and hours in the recording studio. Even the painful sacrifices and the lies the girls have to tell are all worth it. Until they're not. Denver begins to realize that she's trapped in Merc's world, struggling to hold on to her own voice. As the dream turns into a nightmare, she must make a choice: lose her big break, or get broken.

THE POETRY OF SECRETS

A lyrical portrait of hidden identities and forbidden love set against the harrowing backdrop of the Spanish Inquisition. Isabel’s dreams to pursue poetry and a partner of her own choosing are thrown into jeopardy when the Spanish Inquisition reaches her small town.

SHURI #2: THE VANISHED

Shuri, the Princess of Wakanda (and sister to the Black Panther), sets out to save a group of kidnapped girls in this all-new, original novel by New York Times bestselling author Nic Stone!

BRIDGE OF SOULS

Where there are ghosts, Cassidy Blake follows . . .unless it's the other way around? Cass thinks she might have this ghost-hunting thing down. But nothing can prepare Cass for New Orleans, which wears all of its hauntings on its sleeve. And the city's biggest surprise is a foe Cass never expected to face: a servant of Death itself.

FOLLOW YOUR ARROW

When bisexual influencer CeCe breaks up with her girlfriend, Silvie, she’s devastated. But then she starts falling for a new guy who has no idea she’s internet famous...and CeCe wants to keep it that way. But as her secrets catch up to her, she finds herself in the middle of an online storm, where she'll have to confront the blurriness of public vs. private life, and figure out what it really means to speak her truth.

MIRROR’S EDGE

The danger rises and the deception grows in the heart-stopping third book in the New York Times bestselling Impostors series! Are twins Frey and Rafi on the same side . . . or are they playing to their own agendas? If their father is deposed from Shreve, who will take control? And what other forces may be waiting in the wings?

ZARA HOSSAIN IS HERE

Zara's family has waited years for their visa process to be finalized so that they can officially become US citizens. While dealing with the Islamophobia that she faces at school, Zara has to lay low. But when her tormentor vandalizes her house with racist graffiti, a violent crime puts Zara’s entire future at risk. Now she must pay the ultimate price and choose between fighting to stay in the only place she's ever called home or losing the life she loves and everyone in it.

REMEDY

It's a mystery - why is Cara so sick? It feels like she's been sick all her life . . . but she and her mom have never stayed in one place long enough for doctors to really understand what's happening to her. Now, at fourteen, Cara is tired of being tired, and sick of being sick. Unable to afford the care she needs, Cara's mom starts a Caring for Cara campaign online. The money starts pouring in. But something's not right to Cara. And the harder she looks, the less she understands.

HEARTSTOPPER VOLUME 3

The third volume in the poignant and sweet Heartstopper series, featuring beautiful two-color artwork! Charlie didn't think Nick could ever like him back, but now they're officially boyfriends. Nick has even found the courage to come out to his mom. But coming out isn't something that happens just once, and Nick and Charlie try to figure out when to tell their friends that they're dating. Not being out to their classmates gets even harder during a school trip to Paris. As Nick and Charlie's feelings get more serious, they'll need each other more than ever.

THE BLOCK

In the second book of The Loop trilogy, Luka is trapped in a fate worse than death. But now that he knows the truth about what he and his fellow inmates are being used for, it's more important than ever that he not only escapes, but that he builds an army.

ON THE HOOK

Hector has always minded his own business while he works towards a better life. Until Joey, whose older brother, Chavo, is head of the Discípulos gang, tells Hector that he's going to kill him: maybe not today, or tomorrow, but someday. And Hector, frozen with fear, does nothing. From that day forward, Hector's death is hanging over his head every time he leaves the house. But when a fight between Chavo and Hector's brother escalates, Hector is left with no choice but to take a stand. It's up to Hector to choose whether he's going to lose himself to revenge or get back to the hard work of living.

MISTER IMPOSSIBLE

Do the dreamers need the ley lines to save the world . . . or will their actions end up dooming the world? As Ronan, Hennessy, and Bryde try to make dreamers more powerful, the Moderators are closing in, sure that this power will bring about disaster. In the remarkable second book of The Dreamer Trilogy, Maggie Stiefvater pushes her characters to their limits – and shows what happens to them and others when they start to break.

THE GHOSTS WE KEEP

Everything happens for a reason.At least that's what everyone keeps telling Liam Cooper after his older brother Ethan is killed suddenly in a hit-and-run. Feeling more alone and isolated than ever, Liam has to not only learn to face the world without one of the people he loved the most, but also face the fading relationships of his two best friends in the process. Soon, Liam finds themself spending time with Ethan's best friend, Marcus, who might just be the only person that seems to know exactly what they're going through - for better and for worse.

SIMONE BREAKS ALL THE RULES

Simone is shaking things up by making a bucket list of everything she hasn’t been able to do thanks to her strict Haitian immigrant parents. But as the list takes on a life of its own, things get much more complicated than Simone expected. She'll have to discover which rules are worth breaking, and which might save her from heartbreak.

SPEAK FOR YOURSELF

Skylar is ready to show everyone that her latest app is brilliant by winning an academic competition. To do that, she's going to use it to win State at the Scholastic Exposition, the nerdiest academic competition around. But when she falls for one of her team members and things get complicated, is her path to greatness over before it begins?

THE GIRL FROM THE SEA

A graphic novel about family, romance, and first love! Morgan's biggest secret is that she has a lot of secrets, including the one about wanting to kiss another girl. Then one night, Morgan is saved from drowning by a mysterious girl named Keltie. The two become friends and suddenly life on the island doesn't seem so stifling anymore. But Keltie has some secrets of her own. And as the girls start to fall in love, everything they're each trying to hide will find its way to the surface...whether Morgan is ready or not.

RISE TO THE SUN

Three days. Two girls. One life-changing music festival. Toni is reeling in the wake of the loss of her roadie father and desperate to figure out where her life will go from here. Olivia is a hopeless romantic whose heart has just taken a beating (again). When the two collide at the Farmland Music and Arts Festival, it feels like kismet. But when something goes wrong and the festival is sent into a panic, Toni and Olivia find that they need each other, and the music, more than they ever imagined.

YOU & ME AT THE END OF THE WORLD

Hannah Ashton wakes up to silence. The entire city around her is empty, except for one other person: Leo Sterling. Leo might be the hottest boy ever (and not just because he's the only one left), but he's also too charming, too selfish, and too devastating for his own good, let alone Hannah's. Together, they search for answers amid crushing isolation. But while their empty world may appear harmless . . . it's not. Because nothing is quite as it seems, and if Hannah and Leo don't figure out what's going on, they might just be torn apart forever.

IN THE SAME BOAT

Sadie is ready for the race of a lifetime: The Texas River Odyssey. But then her brother ditches her and she has to pair up with her former best friend, Cully. It's irritating enough that he grew up to be so attractive, but once they're on the river it turns out he's ill-prepared for such a dangerous race. But as the miles pass, the pain of the race builds, they uncover the truth about their feuding families, and Sadie's feelings for Cully begin to shift. Could this race change her life more than she ever could have imagined?

THE GREAT DESTROYERS

In this alternate-history novel, Jo joins the Pax Games: an Olympics-style competition that pits pilots of mechas against each other. But when fighters start dying in the arena, Jo is drawn into a deadly political plot. In a global arms race between superpowers, playing out in violent games that only humanity could create, comes a chilling story of clashing titans, ruthless competition, freedom, and the girl caught in the middle of it all.

#I read YA #books to read #booklr #2021 books #tbr #2021 tbr

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big1ron · 3 years

Text

Different nightmares for the Kamino guard

Woo! More clone wars. And just in time for bad batch. Fair warning this is meant to be part of a series I may never end up continuing, so go ahead and guess the plot twists. This is the first part of an ‘orders’ rework.

Tup had shot a jedi. Fives had no idea why or how his old friend could ever do something like this. It was as if he was sick or in some kind of trance. The separatists had already tried to stop him from reaching kamino once, so Fives would not let him fall into harms way again. The captain had assigned him to protect his friend, so he would. Even if he wasn’t assigned so he would. He was just as curious as everyone else as to what was happening and concerned for Tup’s safety.

During the flight to kamino fives talked to tup, reassuring him he would be fine, unsure if it was even true or if he could understand him in that state.

“Medical frigate 571 cleared for landing in bay 5” a voice rang out on the intercoms. This was to be a special case. Dean squad moved to secure this special transfer.

The five guards escorted fives and the hover gurney into the city and towards an examination room.

Nala se spoke with shak ti. They were discussing this special case. Fives was put in a separate room from who he was supposed to protect. This clued dean squad to the kaminoans intention immediately.

The captain that had accompanied the two was dismissed back to the battle field. The guards all knew he was the lucky one.

“You hear what was so special about this one?” One of the guards, Roy asked. Whispering over the comms though the helmets were sound proof. His head didn’t move a millimetre, no sign he was even speaking.He was distinguishable only by an ever so slightly different finger placement on his blaster.

“Heard he killed a Jedi” Nix responded, also hushed but slightly louder. He was distinguishable just by the near invisible slant of his hips as he favoured his left leg.

CT-2894, distinguishable by nothing, as he was damn near perfect, scanned this anomalous clone’s face. It stirred some kind of foreign feeling in him. Something like what he felt right after waking from the nightmares only he got. Of course, he didn’t say anything. He never did.

Once in the testing room, lama su is quick to start the hyper tests, near immediately giving the order to “administer the stimulant.”

The medical droid complied, jabbing a hypo into the bound clones chest.

“Remove his mask”

As the droid did so, the clone began struggling and writhing against the restraints. The dean squad adverted their eyes from the disturbing sight, except 2894, who couldn’t take his eyes away. Why? What did he feel about that clone?

The arc trooper who had been separated from the anomalous clone banged on the window between the rooms, distressed. He was shouting things to his droid, understandably upset over the treatment of who he was meant to protect. He calls out to shak ti, who while more composed than the trooper, also looks distressed. She presses a button that shades the window separating the two rooms.

“His reactions are normal. His reaction will subside.” Lama su says calmly, while imputing the results to her datapad. “The patient must be awake for the next round of tests.”

“I am not fond of these hyper tests.” The Jedi says, watching the clone concernedly.

“Yes, but they do give us all the information we need in a timely fashion.” Lama su says while tapping away on one of the control panels. “There does not seem to be any sign of infection in the blood.”

“How curious”

“The subject has tested negative on all counts. This clone seems to be in perfect health.”

“We must be missing something”

“Why am I here?” The clone on the table asks breathlessly as he wakes.

“Is he conscious?” Asks the Jedi to the kaminoan.

This causes the clone on the table to lock onto the Jedi, and somthing seems to switch in his head. “Follow orders. Kill Jedi. Kill Jedi!”

“Are you finished with your tests?” Asks the Jedi. “Sedate him.”

And the clone protests with his mantra of “kill the Jedi” until he losses consciousness again.

The Jedi and the kaminoan discuss the clone, but the kaminoan and the dean guards already know exactly what his fate is. He’s a defect. He’s liked a Jedi and expressed his intent to do so again. He was as good as dead the second he arrived. And it’s rare but cases like this have shown up before. The kaminoan insists upon it being some kind of nano virus, same excuse as always.

“The only way to find out what happened to this clone is to terminate him. And do a full molecular level autopsy.”

Roy’s shoulders fall ever so slightly. He knew this would happen. They all did. But still, to hear it is always different. 2894 stiffens his shoulders. There’s something off about this clone. For some reason, some gut feeling was telling him he did not want this clone dead.

One of the medical droids suggests a level 5 brain scan that might reveal the cause instead of termination, but lama su brushes the suggestion off, saying the clone is too weak.

The Jedi and the kaminoan get into a civil debate over the fate of the clone, with the Jedi wishing to take him to the Jedi temple alive. This general’s tried before. And she’s never won. But she leaves to speak to the Jedi council, and lama su leaves to speak to the prime minister.

The three guards watching the anomalous clone are silent, awaiting the decision. The sound of something hitting the window from the other side is the only noise other than the beeping of the machines.

The air was heavy, as they waited for news of this clones fate. None of them had known him personally, but that didn’t mean they would want him to die. 2894 never let himself grow attached to the clones passing through. Barely spoke to his own squad. But he had such a strange unexplainable draw towards this specific clone, that he couldn’t help but feel concern for him.

Soon Nala se returned however. Before the Jedi and with a syringe.

“It will be a painless death. And all our questions will be answered.”

For the first time in recent memory, 2894 felt panic. As if he had just woken form a nightmare only he ever seemed to get.

Why? Why this clone? Why did he care about this clone? That didn’t matter. He couldn’t let that happen.

He’d not planned for mutiny, but he was prepared for it.

He knew to kick for Nix’s left knee first, while he set his blaster for stun. He knew Roy always swung high first, when in range. He knew he was not from their batch and had a few tricks he didn’t remember learning. And he knew he had to keep that clone alive.

Kamino guards don’t get nightmares. At least not as violent, or frequent ones as 2894. His squad mates tell him this out of concern whenever they have to wake him up from one. Its not normal for a kamino guard. And 2894 would never tell them exactly what the nightmares were about.

But despite that, 2894 was the most perfect clone in dean squad. He barely talked to them outside what was necessary, and though he wasn’t unfriendly to them, he always seemed distant. He wasn’t from the same batch as Fly, Scale, Nix, or Roy. And when asked about his batch, would just go quiet.

2894 seemed much less a clone than a droid. Maybe his scores were higher than his squad, but the most human he seemed was when he woke up screaming from a nightmare.

So this was extremely unexpected. Or maybe all that was an early warning.

The ARC trooper that had been in the other room came rushing in. 2894 couldn’t read his intention straight away. This second he took was too long. ARC troopers are fast, and this one had him on the ground in an instant.

“What are you doing?” He demanded immediately

“I don’t know!” 2894 answered truthfully before amending with “protecting the patient until further orders.” That slip up will have cost him his life. The excuse he came up with was good, but it came a moment too late. Surely this ARC trooper would punish him for it.

2894 awaited his fate in the seconds the ARC stayed silent.

“They would have killed him” the ARC stated the obvious as he looked towards the kaminoan.

“Yes”

“But the Jedi hasn’t returned yet.”

“No”

The ARC was quiet again, adjusting his hold on the guard

“You weren’t following orders, were you?”

“I was, sir. To see to that the operation is carried out safely. Nala se, while being the head of the operation, did not have the consent of the Jedi overseer to continue.”

The ARC chuckled. The guard wasn’t joking. Surely the bluff wouldn’t fly.

“They didn’t need the general’s permission. You know this. You attach your superiors. You committed mutiny! But you do remind me a lot of someone I used to know.” The ARC’s tone was jovial. Relived. 2894 didn’t get it.

“AZ, you should be more like this guy.” The clone calls to a droid waiting patiently in the hall. The ARC leaned off of the guard and stood, helping him up. He went on, inspecting the equipment. 2894 just stood, bewildered. What was the ARC doing? He should be arresting him! Or setting off an alarm! Or killing him!

“W- why are you ok with this? You should probably set off the alarm-“

“Don’t touch that!” The ARC calls as the guard reaches for the button. “You are terrible at mutiny! First time I take it? AZ I need a distraction. Set off an alarm in the far wing”

The droid complied while reassuring itself about saving the patient. An alarm blared letting them know it had worked.

“Great. Now I need you to do a brain scan. Level 5. There’s something there they aren’t looking for.”

“You can’t. He’ll die. You need to wait a few hours after the hyper tests”

The ARC groans in frustration. “We don’t have that long! We need the results now!”

“I thought the the objective of this exercise was to save his life, not end it!”

AZ looks between the two feuding clones before stepping in “actually, preforming the scan itself has a 76% survival rate. Most casualties occur once the scan if finished and any operations begin”

“76 is good odds. Preform the scan. I’m sure we’ll get something useful”

“Commencing level 5 atomic brain scan”

The guard doesn’t watch, attention much more focused on the door. This is much too open. He grabs a blaster off the ground and steps outside. closing the door behind him. He can trust that ARC to help that clone.

He stands guard, but more than that he takes a step outside. He’s got no idea what he’s doing, and it’s very wrong. But standing outside the door he can just go back to what he was before, even if it’s fake and just for a little bit. It’s enough.

#the clone wars #star wars #arc trooper fives #captain rex #fives #starwars #clone trooper tup #my writing #it includes my two favourite characters just as a spoiler #you know what that means #I would write a bunch of different fandoms if I had the confidence #but since most of you are clone people #I’m just staying with stars war for now #would you like some other fandoms?#I’m not as confident with other characters as clones but I do want to try some other stuff #ah whatever just rambling in the tags #part of this was written months ago. I had completely forgotten about it.#now it’s a little more complete

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sakuranoumi · 3 years

Text

Fandom: Shaman King

Characters: Yoh, Hao

Word Count: 922

Summary: Birthday fic

Yoh enters the kitchen as Tamao sits at the table. Her kindergarten work books are spread out around her as she carefully traces the kana.

“Happy birthday,” she whispers because Tamao only whispers. Mom says its because she used to get in trouble for making a sound. Yoh thinks that's awful, but he won't force Tamao to be loud. He'll just smile at her bright and soft so she knows there's nothing she has to be scared of around him.

“Thanks, Tamao,” he says reaching out for a strawberry. His mother sends him a warning sound even though her back is to him. He pulls his hand back chastised and Tamao lets out a soft giggle.

“You hafta wait,” Tamao tells him. “After dinner.”

“I'm going outside,” Yoh states instead. Tamao stays seated pencil working away.

He walks towards the main entrance to there land. He feels that this year will be different unlike every other year. This year his dad will walk through the door. He doesn't ever need a present in his hands as long as he'll sweep Yoh off his feet into a big hug. Then they can have his vanilla cream and strawberry cake together.

He tries to summon a few shikigami for practice but they don't come easily, and he's not interested in putting in anymore effort than the bare minimum.

He hears a stick crack in the woods and his head whips around trying to pinpoint the sound. He doesn't see anyone which means it had to be an animal and not his dad here to surprise him.

He begins to kick a rock down the path watching it bounce and roll until it rolls into the bushes. He tries to kick it back out with his foot but he doesn't feel anything so he parts the foliage so he can look for it.

Immediately, a shikigami pops up in front of him with the same rock proudly displayed in his belly. He falls back on his bottom surprised and the shikigami knocks him back further as it collides with his stomach. It's strange. Their usually never this nice to him.

He looks up to a boy watching him.

“Did you make him?” Yoh asks, moving the shikigami so he can sit up.

The boy doesn't answer but silence has never stopped Yoh.

“I'm Yoh,” he introduces and waits. Still nothing.

“That's okay,” Yoh decides, “Tamao doesn't like to talk either, but I won't be mean to you if that's what your scared of.”

Yoh waits a few more moments and then he does what he always does with Tamao. He fills the silence so she doesn't have to.

“It's my birthday today and I can feel this one's going to be special. I just know my dad's going to come right down this path and spend my birthday with me. He'll have so much fun with me that he won't ever leave again.”

“He's not coming,” the boy finally speaks and his voice is flat and monotone.

“You don't know that,” Yoh turns his head and looks at the boy funny.

“You don't even know him. Why do you care if he comes?” the boy presses.

“You're right,” Yoh agrees pulling his knees in close as the shikigami crawls up into his hair, “He's never around. I don't even know what he looks like but that doesn't matter. He's my dad and I know he loves me just like I love him. Sometimes being family is just enough.”

The boy snorts.

“Well what about your dad?”

“Never knew him.” the boy states, disdain dripping from his voice, “he left my mom for being different and then she was killed for that same reason.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Yoh responds, “Sometimes parent's are bad. Like Tamao's.”

“How do you know yours are any better,” the boy challenges.

“I don't,” Yoh answers easily, “but I'm going to keep believing because it's better then being mad all the time. It's better then asking why I'm not enough.”

The boy's face softens and Yoh can swear his arms twitch ever so slightly as if he wants to draw him into a hug but stops himself.

Yoh stands up and dusts off his shorts and the shikigami tumbles to the ground.

“Do you want to come to my party? My mom made a cake and if you have no where to go I bet you can stay with us like Tamao.”

The boy shakes his head, “I can't.”

“Oh, okay,” Yoh replies, dejected. He thought maybe he had made a new friend but it turns out he was wrong. This boy wants nothing to do with him.

“Next time,” the boy promises, “the next time we meet.”

“When will that be?” Yoh asks.

“I don't know,” the boy answers. “When we're bigger.”

Yoh pouts, “Will you tell me your name at least?”

“Asaha,” the boy says like it's foreign on his tongue.

“Asaha,” Yoh repeats, “We're friends rights?”

“Happy birthday, Yoh,” is all Asaha says before he disappears into the woods.

“Happy birthday, Asaha,” Yoh calls back because even though Asaha didn't say it he feels like it's his birthday too. Even if he's wrong, Asaha will have at least one birthday before they meet again. He just wishes he could have shared his cake with him. He bets cake tastes even better with friends.

#shaman king #yoh asakura #hao asakura #i bet no one wanted angst with their cake #yet that's what you got #also this almost didn't happen #because birthday fics are hard

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spmcomic · 4 years

Text

“You can’t sleep here.”

He groaned and cracked open his dry eyes. The world spun and boundaries blended into each other in a disorienting smear as the burning sun blasted any details out of view. His eyes squinted back shut. The oppressive heat shoved him back to the ground before he could sit up properly.

A swift kick to the ribs jabbed him awake. He rolled away from the impact, coughing and gasping, struggling upright. His cloak clung to his arms, dusty and chafing. But he didn’t bother brushing himself off. He swept the Prognosticus behind the fabric, out of the creature’s sight.

“You hear me? Get lost,” the voice cut in again. He struggled to keep his eyes open long enough to catch the creature’s hard-edged silhouette. He shielded his face against the sun with an exhausted, trembling hand. When the sun’s rays glanced off the creature’s flat back plates as it moved forward, he drifted back.

“I was just…” He didn’t bother with the rest of the sentence, instead mumbling an apology and staggering away down the dusty path. It wasn’t as if he could leave town. The glimmering bubble around the town kept the heat and walls of hot dust at bay. He rubbed his sore ribs; even the kicks and stones hurt less than that endless heat. He staggered into the shade of the next turn on the grimy side road and leaned against the rough clay wall of the train station. The Prognosticus sagged against his shoulder and his eyes began to flutter shut on their own. Even the train’s horn clanging across the alley couldn’t cut through his exhaustion.

With a pained grimace, he realized he hadn’t asked the stranger about Timpani. She could have landed in any world, with any person. If he didn’t manage to comb every inch of this town before he left, he could miss her and never realize. So he wobbled back around the corner. “Have you seen…”

He trailed off open-mouthed at the sight of not just the one creature marching down the road toward him, but five of them. Apparently, it wouldn’t do for him to stay in town at all, let alone rest by the road. His eyes struggled to focus as he glanced around the path. He hadn’t looked in every hiding place, he hadn’t asked everyone yet…

But he would never get to look anywhere at all if these creatures caught him, if they beat him or jailed him…

The train’s horn called again, snapping him to attention. He hopped back several paces and drew his wand. If he could land in the train, he may yet find more of this world to search, at least. He cast the portal between himself and the creatures. Their feet stopped behind the shimmering air on the other side, so he barreled through the gap in space before they could realize what had happened.

He overshot his target and fell into the scorching sand far outside the bubble’s boundaries. He cried out at the burns and scratching, at the boiling sunbeams. The Prognosticus flew above his head, providing the barest hole in the sunlight to protect his eyes as he struggled to find the mental clarity to place another portal.

This world fell away and a splash of freezing water took its place, which set his skin burning anew with the shift in extremes. He fell to the ground, landing hard on his back among frosted rocks slicked with icy rain. He rolled over, under his cloak, and gasped for air.

And so his search for Timpani began again.

What happens now? He cast out timidly, eyeing the Prognosticus.

“Count Bleck must eat,” came the reply. He shuddered at the sharp prickle up the back of his neck at its response, as used to it as he had become. He pulled the book toward himself and carefully fitted his thumb claw between two of the densely-packed pages to crack it open.

Words cluttered the page, but he found his target after a quick scan. On its own line, squashed between clipped descriptions of the jungle he sat in, the answer jumped out at him: Count Bleck must eat.

His ears twitched back. He glared at the dense foliage, as if judgment radiated from the very leaves around him. To shove away the feeling of eyes all around, he returned his attention to his experiment.

Had he seen this page before? Would the Prognosticus only give him words he had already seen? Or could it give him new information through this connection? Before his eyes could wander too far down the page, he closed the book and let it linger at his shoulder. He frowned, too on-edge to close his eyes and concentrate. Perhaps it could reach him even with his eyes open…

Where will I find food?

“Count Bleck will ignore each opportunity presented to him and stop only when he is told.”

What does that mean?

No response. He huffed and stood. Never reasons; only directions. Very well. He pressed forward through the enormous leaves, his ears twitching and turning at every rustle and chirp. Each breath came in a sharp hiss, despite his best efforts. The local birds had mandibles, and he couldn’t afford another altercation on an empty stomach.

Oh, how he hoped Timpani hadn’t landed here. How he hoped he would never stumble across her body; he would never find her a moment too late. He had to find her soon. Soon. She could be here, waiting, in danger.

His stomach gnawed at his insides as he peered around bushes and trees, keeping an ear tilted toward the tree cover. Sunlight filtered through in thin curtains, and a cluster of mushrooms glinted in the faint light. They looked plain enough, unassuming. He shifted his weight to move forward, but hesitated. He will ignore each opportunity presented to him.

The sickly purple vein of poison across the caps caught his eye upon closer inspection. The image of Timpani’s body corroded by the fungus cluster’s toxins assailed his mind, and he shrank back.

Perhaps he didn’t need to eat right now. He could just keep walking, and the Prognosticus would tell him when to stop, and he wouldn’t have to consider all the dangers Timpani could have succumbed to.

He ached. He sat at the side of the cold stone path, the way he had watched beggars and exhausted travelers sit. His ailing pride protested at the thought of becoming no more than a beggar himself, but he couldn’t find the energy to care anymore. With a long, rattled sigh, he leaned back and rested his head against the uneven cobblestone wall along the side of the road. The Prognosticus was wedged between his back and the wall, and its gem dug into his spine so that he couldn’t quite get comfortable no matter how he shifted his weight. His eyes slid over every passerby on their way into town. A sword at the belt; a heavy bag overflowing with linens; thin circular glasses, that must be a foreigner; and-

The barest flash of shimmering color caught his attention. Before he could register what he had seen, he found his hand reaching out. “Do I know you…?”

A rainbow ribbon tied in dark hair.

A flash of fear, disgust, in the woman’s eyes. She stumbled back, clutching the straps of her backpack. Then he realized the ribbon was all wrong. It sat around her head in a band, and her curly hair spilled out the back. He blinked, struggling to force the fog out of his mind.

“What do you want!?” She squared her shoulders and put her hand near her belt. Travelers farther down the path stopped and turned to stare.

He froze. His breath and his pulse pressed on his ears. His trembling hand closed into a fist as it pulled away from the girl. “I was, um…” Attempting to make himself smaller, he fell back against the pebbled wall. “I was only… You looked like someone I know. You looked like Timpani. Have you- have you seen her?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed; her stance shifted. “If you’re looking for an excuse to get into town, you won’t find it here.”

“N-no, I know, I was just…” His eyes flicked to the other groups of travelers standing in the road, watching. His claws gripped the wall as he ran his hands along the stone and inched away from the humans. He could feel his fangs drawing back in his fear, and he cursed himself with a hiss, and cursed himself again at the sinister tone of it.

Of course that startled the humans, of course that drove them to draw their weapons. He jetted away down the path and vaulted over the wall just in time to clear a lance of fire blazing past his shoulder. He darted along the wall off the path, ducked low, yanking his hood over his horns so they might not stand out so starkly against the golden fields.

The activity exhausted him. He stopped for his breath when the humans’ cries had faded, and the only sound left was the buzzing insects. He ached for Timpani- she had to be out searching for him as he searched for her. Surely he would come across someone who had heard of a girl looking for Blumiere. It could happen anywhere, at any time. He could not miss a single corner, he had to ask everyone, and he would find her eventually, and they would be reunited. This, he held with single-minded, unwavering certainty. They would meet again.

There would be no other human, no other being, that would ever look upon him so fondly.

At last, cool relief. He slumped against a short hill of concrete under a wide road. The Prognosticus perched on the incline by his shoulder. One of the locals, a furred creature with huge ears and prominent claws, shot a glare his way before shuffling off to the other side of the divot under the road, to join three of its fellows.

“Have you seen a girl named Timpani?” he tried, but his voice came out as a much weaker mutter than he expected. No one responded.

He glanced at the Prognosticus, but shook his head and turned away before he could give in to the urge to call to it. A scowl tugged at his brows, at his nose.

It’s hardly as if the book responds much, either, he snarled to himself. The book sat on the incline, as silent and unmoved as ever.

He shivered, despite the sunlight’s warmth outside of their shelter, and drew his cloak tighter around his shoulders. These cities, with their vast stretches of reflective rough stone, tended to stay warmer than the wilderness. And yet… he couldn’t seem to shake off this bitter chill.

The locals across the road’s underside chatted among themselves. He turned an ear toward them, but only dared glance out of the corner of a bleary eye.

They spoke of the weather, and some kind of game. They argued about the current hour. One of them called out words at random, until he realized the creature was naming vehicles as they passed across the bridge overhead. No word of a lost girl, or even any creature that might be mistaken for human. He turned back toward the incline, toward the book.

Despite the chill, he felt his face grow hot. They didn’t care what her name was. Even if they had seen her, what reason had they to tell him anything? Perhaps he had already approached someone who knew of her, and they lied, and he passed through without ever knowing. He clenched his claws within the folds of his cloak, breathing growing ragged. Would that not make more sense than the idea that no one had ever heard of her at all? Would that not reflect the hostility that met him everywhere he went?

A growling complaint from his stomach cut through his festering. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. He could hardly remember when he’d landed in this world. The city, for all its shelter, provided little opportunity to forage. And he had lost the ability to hunt outside of its walls; he could rarely catch animals even in good health.

He recalled the containers of refuse and scraps, often dotted along the paths farther into the city. He narrowed his eyes at the Prognosticus. It hadn’t moved, but he felt the waves of its smug judgment all the same. Fur bristling, he batted the thing away, though on the rough stone surface it didn’t slide far.

He knew what it would recommend without even having to ask.

Nighttime tended to provide a cover of solitude and quiet. With every new village, town, city, he had to weigh his options: travel peacefully in the cover of darkness, or risk the locals’ fury for the chance of finding Timpani among them.

This night, under the punishment of a cold drizzle, he regretted his choice. He huddled under the shrubs outside a pleasant little cottage, its warm light pouring out into the backlot. If he sidled up against the fence marking its boundary, he could pretend for brief moments that the warmth could reach him.

A shadow passed across the cottage’s window. He shifted his weight and shrank away from the lot. Time to move on, then. But instead of coming out with a broom or weapon, the woman appeared in the light of the open door with a basket under her arm. She squinted in his direction, but he knew the most she could see was the dimmed, dull glow of his eyes reflected off the leaves around him. She set the basket down and hustled back into her cottage, closing the door behind her. The latching mechanism on the other side snapped shut with a dull click.

He hesitated. His breathing hissed shallow and ragged; his hunger gnawed through his abdomen up into his chest. He could smell the warm bread in the basket, even from across the lot. He crept forward and returned to the little wooden fence at its boundary, picking at the peeling cheerful paint as he considered making a dive for the basket.

The Prognosticus swung open next to his head and slapped its cover across his face. He violently flinched away and clung to the fence.

“What!?” he snapped, glaring at the open pages. He rubbed his palm against the bridge of his sore nose.

The words sat in front of him, indifferent to his grumbling. “Count Bleck would reject the humans’ traps, disguised as friendly offerings. There are no humans in existence whose goodwill he may rely on.”

He snarled and shoved the book aside, and stared at the basket. Maybe he could get away with one bite? A few bites?

The book remained open at the edge of his vision. “Count Bleck will never find shelter with the humans. No matter how hungry, no matter how pathetic he becomes, they will never have mercy.”

The basket sat in the dark lot. His stomach cried out for the food inside, he could think of nothing but taking it before it grew cold and soggy in the nighttime chill. But he could go no farther than reaching out a tense claw. His fangs drew back and he felt his fur struggle to stand on end against the sodden shoulders and hood of his cloak.

A flicker of movement along the fence at the other side of the lot drew his attention. Some kind of large rodent crept out of the bushes and plodded toward the basket. A strained, undignified whine escaped him as the animal examined the cloth over the wicker and woven handle. It poked its nose under the cover to find the bread, stopped to glance around, and then dug greedily into the basket’s contents.

He sank to the wet grass and lay on the ground, watching the animal gorge itself on his meal through the even, trimmed planks of the fence. He couldn’t tell if the rain had soaked through his hood and ran down his face, or if his body had somehow scraped up the energy to cry.

The rodent stepped back from the basket after it had had its fill. It wiped its whiskers for a moment, as if considering its next move. Then a horrible shudder wracked its body.

He stared suspiciously at the animal. It remained standing in place for a few moments, its head hung low and its balance strange. His pulse struggled against his wrists. What was it doing?

The animal collapsed with a wet gurgle. Red foam poured out of its mouth and nose. Its thrashing slowed to twitching, and then to nothing.

Silently, his eyes flicked to the book’s open page.

“Count Bleck will find no aid in this world, or the next, or the next after that.”

Illness. The last thing he needed in a dark and strange world. Dark spires stabbed into the angry purple clouds overhead, crackling with intermittent lightning that covered the world in flashes of purple light and punched long shadows across his vision.

He staggered along, the book wobbling against his shoulder behind him. He caught his weight with trembling hands against a sharp pillar of stone sprouting from the earth and gasped for breath. The world reeled around him, and his body felt hollow and unstable. A dizzying fog rolled across his mind as he stared at the ground, wondering if perhaps the rocks here were edible. After that, he couldn’t seem to drag his eyes away from the spot they had settled upon.

A scream rang out in the darkness, above the thunder. His attention locked onto the sound and he stumbled toward it before his mind could catch up. He saw figures in the distance, moving like quick still images as the world flickered between blinding light and blinding darkness. When the lightning ceased briefly, and his eyes re-adjusted to the darkness, he saw ahead a poor soul attempting to fend off three bandits.

Without thinking, he had already drawn his wand.

“Stop!” he called, but his voice had no volume or force, and so none of the humans paid him mind. He struggled to keep his eyes focused. Were they real? Was he simply watching a dream? The sky flickered again and thunder crashed over the group of them. He raised his wand in warning, letting a blaze of blue light pour over the group of humans. That got their attention.

Two of the bandits stopped in their tracks, varying degrees of shock flashing in their eyes and brows. Then they regained their courage and turned toward him. He faltered. With a last strike to keep the victim down, the third bandit joined and the three advanced on him instead. He drew the Prognosticus close, just behind his back, and did his best to look big and threatening. But in his weakness his eyes did not flare, and his fangs did not draw back fully, and the wand trembled in his claws, and he knew he looked more pathetic than impressive.

No matter. He had no time to retreat. The three bandits sprang upon him, and he beat them back with a shock wave. Black sparks spat from his wand, needling at anything they made contact with like burning embers. But he could not track three opponents at once, and one easily ducked out of the spray and came at him from the side.

The moment he turned his attention to the oncoming bandit, the other two jumped at him. One got their arm hooked around his neck, and he snarled and clawed at the human. That one cried out and pulled away, long streaks of red across their forearm. But another punched the side of his head. With a gasp he dropped his wand and crashed to the ground, landing hard on the Prognosticus.

The world wobbled and squirmed under his hands while he tried to support himself. The human’s fist pounded against his head again and he went down. He could hardly see, and he wasn’t sure if the flashing lights were from the sky or from the way his vision swam and spotted. As a bandit made for his wand, he snatched it away and pulled it toward himself.

One of the humans pinned him to the ground flat on his stomach, their knee dug into the back of his neck. “Let it go,” they threatened.

He choked, but refused to release his wand. As his vision began to fade, in his mind he reached desperately for the book.

“Use your wand, you fool.”

He gripped the wand as hard as he could in his weakening claws and cast a portal into the ground, and he and his assailant tumbled through together. They landed in the bloody dirt on the other side of the bandits’ previous victim.

Choking and wheezing, he staggered upright and pulled whatever magical energy he could muster into his hands. He barely recovered in time to launch the human back through the portal, directly into their companions. The three of them fell in a tangle of limbs and shouting.

He brought a barrier around the three of them in a thick bubble, and then fired the bubble away down the road. The three humans tumbled within it until the barrier broke, and he heard a single nasty crack. The three humans climbed shakily to their feet, and two of them supported the third as they fled into the night.

With that, he collapsed into the dark swirling dust, next to the injured human. The human blinked at him, then scrambled to their feet and stumbled back. He reached a trembling claw out toward the human, but didn’t have the energy for much more than resting his hand against the ground.

“Help,” he rasped. His bruised head throbbed at the effort. He cringed and curled in on himself, struggling to keep a wavering dim eye on the human.

The human stared at him, and then looked off into the distance. The light around them flickered and thunder rolled over the path. He waited. When he tried to close his mouth, his fangs didn’t fit together properly.

But instead of helping, the human shook their head, and they turned toward the path and limped off toward the road, the opposite way that the bandits had gone. The book laid nearby, half-buried in the dust. The air pressed in, thick and heavy, but refusing to rain. Heat and cold blew past in waves.

No help came.

What should I do?

“Get up.”

A broken sob escaped from between his fangs, and a miserable hiccup, and then he struggled to get his arms under himself. Time to move on.

Where?

“Here.”

He stopped and stared blankly at the ground.

What is this place…?

He frowned. Something was wrong with the sunlight overhead. He looked up.

A sheet of water hung in the air between the ground and sun. Huge fish swam around lazily, casting dappled shadows across the soft sand and gentle hills. Few plants grew here; the ones that did reached all the way up into the water. He blinked, slowly, his brows furrowing. Wasn’t that something.

Timpani would have found it fascinating.

Maybe someday you’ll get to see it, his muddled thoughts swirled.

The sun had moved incrementally in the time it had taken him to blink. It had done that a lot, the last few days. Skipped around while he wasn’t looking. He rubbed his tender, misaligned jaw with a dry, cracked knuckle, and returned his attention to the sand below.

He crouched and blew the sand aside with a quick spell, until the dull gleam of a handle caught his eye. A trapdoor. His ears perked. After tugging it open cautiously, he peered into the hole. No suspicious sounds or movement greeted him, so he glanced around before lowering himself into the chamber.

In the dark, cramped space, his dim eyes took a slow moment to adjust. Then, they widened. Cans, boxes, and bags lined the cluttered shelves, along with…

He could have cried from relief. The familiar red crisscross of a healing tonic greeted him.

Someone had stashed an entire shelter’s worth of supplies here. He had no energy to question what emergency they might have prepared for that he was confounding with his thievery. He raged at himself internally, he hated himself, even as he reached out with such greedy hands and tore the casings off the various jars of salve and tonic and set about patching himself up.

The pain faded, and the headache, and his jaw re-aligned with a vague little pop. Before he could stop himself, he had already turned to the stock of food and grabbed the first box in his reach. The cardboard ripped easily under his claws and he set about digging into the dry semi-sweet pastries. All that existed in the universe for a few moments was his hands, and the crackers, or granola, or whatever he had found, and his newly-repaired mouth.

The room warmed incrementally with the returning glow to his eyes. He closed them and took a deep breath. He had already stolen enough to last a lifetime, in his travels. This stranger had saved his life, even if against their will. He doubted that anything would ward off the endless chill, the soreness to his throat and nose and eyes, the way his stomach rebelled at the sudden meal even as it demanded more. But all the same, he stood straighter with the triumph of solving one problem for one minute.

With a weary hollowness he realized he had nothing with which to repay the stranger. He had a few coins, perhaps, hiding at the bottom of his bag. He made a clumsy attempt at digging for them, and then a more frustrated one.

Just as his fingers reached blindly around under his canteen, his ears twitched at the soft whisper of feet against sand above. He jolted out of his search and shrank back behind a shelf. With a twinge of annoyance, he realized his brightened eyes would foil any attempt at staying hidden while he snuck around the intruder.

A shiver ran up his spine at the metallic scrape of a drawn sword. He tugged the Prognosticus close, under his cloak. Though he reached out for its aid, the blasted book remained silent.

A long-legged, armored creature with a variety of spikes adorning its back and limbs dropped into the chamber, dragging a slender blade casually in one segment-fingered grip. His ears sank with dread. It took the creature only a second to notice his presence, and he had space neither to cast a portal nor to dart out through the hole in the ceiling.

His stomach churned at the prospect of moving, but he didn’t have much choice. He dove out from behind the shelf, his hands already ablaze with energy. The creature flinched back, but drew up its sword at his approach. He parried the sword with the blade of his elbow, but took a glancing blow across his shoulder that tore easily through his cloak. His eyes widened and his breath hitched as the creature unsheathed a second blade with an extra thin, chitinous arm on the same side and stabbed forward.

The Prognosticus swung around and the dagger bounced off its cover. He flinched back against the shelf with a horrible clatter, knocking the contents on the two of them in an avalanche of cans and cardboard.

Desperately, he thrust out a portal just below the hole in the ceiling and burst out of the pile. He flew through the portal and careened headfirst into a tangle of roots and brambles stuck out of the ground on the other side. He slammed his horns against something sharp and unyielding, and the impact rattled through his head and neck, and the world went dark and quiet.

A cold, sharp wind cut through his dazed stupor. He shivered. The trees around him creaked and groaned in the strengthening wind. The sound set him struggling against his thorny prison. He needed to hurry and find shelter.

He felt around his side. His bag was torn, but hung from his shoulder. The Prognosticus laid below him, suspended across a few sharp roots. He reached out a hand and in a flash of his aura the book jumped to him. His cold-numbed fingers worked to disentangle his cloak from the roots as the temperature dropped noticeably.

Where…?

“Count Bleck would find a suitable hole to crawl into a short way to his left.”

He found a comfortably-sized little hollow under the trunk of a nearby tree, just as the rain grew into sheets and waves tossed in the wind. He set his bag aside, and settled the Prognosticus against the wood, and bundled up his cloak around his shoulders, and curled up on the ground to wait. He tugged his canteen out from his bag.

Hot anger stabbed across his chest. He bit back a sob, but couldn’t stop the tears. Idiot. He should have moved faster. He should have had money ready- should have been more careful- should have-

He rolled over, to glare at the storm. So stupid. No wonder everyone turned him away. He was no better than some thieving wild animal. He wondered how wild he looked, if madness sat in his eyes the way he saw in other begging travelers outside of humans’ settlements. Perhaps they were right to hurt and chase him.

He ached for someone to fix everything, to take the Prognosticus away and let him rest, for Timpani to magically appear. If he… When he found Timpani, he wondered if things would really change. He had nothing to offer her, nowhere for them to go. No one who would take them in. Judging from his travels, he would put her in danger with his very presence no matter where they went.

The tears fell freely, now. He buried his face in his clenched fists and moaned, though the wind outside his little hollow buried the sound. He sat, alone and shivering, until sleep took him.

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index

start at the beginning

#spm #super paper mario #paper mario #blumiere #count bleck #arc 2 #jumping wayyyyyy back to arc 2 for a minute here folks! thanks for bearing with me #still need more time for the next comic scene but it's coming along

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whump-tr0pes · 4 years

Text

HB4-33/Whumptober day 13

Honor Bound 4 - 33 (Forced To Watch) - @badthingshappenbingo

Requested for Fillis by anon

Thank you to @sableflynn for the flashbacks idea...

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3, and Vera.

AO3

Masterlist

Content warning: burns, human trafficking/slavery, death thoughts, pain medication mention, gendered slur word used not as an attack to anyone, cutting with a razor (field surgery), blood

Finn touched the bandage on their arm, and even the feather-light pressure sent a spike of pain exploding through the wound on their arm. The brand. They were branded, like a damned animal. Like property. The burn on their arm throbbed like a hot coal was being held there – or a hot branding iron. The skin itched, and the feeling was like fire. They wanted to tear the ruined flesh from their arm, just to get the damned mark off of them.

The urge, still. It was like an unbearable pressure, a compulsion, to look again. To look at the mark that had been seared into them hours ago, marking them as Stormbeck chattel. The others were playthings: there to be used, and hurt, and discarded when Colleen was done with them. The others were bodies for Colleen to break. Finn was exactly what Gavin had said they were, all those months ago: a brain and a pair of hands, and a body to drive it all around. Finn served a purpose. Finn was useful.

At least that’s what the guard had said when they’d dragged them out of their cell and pressed a red-hot piece of iron to their forearm, burning the skin until Finn was sure they’d gone down to the bone.

They stared at the wall and wondered if Ellis was alive. They wondered how long it would take for them to be the only one of their family left. They wondered how long Colleen would keep them after that.

Finn shivered in their shorts and tank top. They looked over the things littering the table in front of them, an old plastic one they’d helped carry from the yard into the bathroom at the back of the house. It wasn’t much: gauze, alcohol, bandages, all looking pristine in the fluorescent light fixed to the ceiling.

They couldn’t bring themself to look at the razor sitting beside the other supplies. They gulped and stared at their hands, twisting their fingers together, squeezing so tightly their knuckles went white. They glanced up at Vera as she walked in and stopped at Ellis’s side.

“Everyone out of the house?” Finn said weakly.

Vera bit her lip and nodded. “Yeah. Sam and Edrissa are out walking the lake, and T-Tori is, um…” She smoothed the pad of her thumb along her jaw, her eyes going distant for just a moment. “Tori is walking down the lane a bit. Just seeing what’s there.”

“Good,” Finn murmured. They blinked slowly. “Gavin?”

“I don’t know where he is,” Vera said with a rush of breath. “He’s not in his room, not in Isaac’s, not anywhere in the house.” She shrugged. “He’s around. He’ll show up again.”

“Once he needs something,” Ellis said tightly. Finn looked down at the floor.

“With Isaac and Gray out, I don’t blame him for wanting some time, um, away,” Finn said, and their gaze drifted to the razor. “He was trapped in the Crayton house for—”

“I don’t want to talk about what Gavin has been through when he’s part of the reason we’re doing this,” Ellis said, tears swimming in their eyes.

The defense rose up in Finn, the words stinging their tongue: Not his fault. He had no choice. He was a prisoner, too. He was tortured, too. He was ready to die for us. Tried to die for us, like Vera said. They met Ellis’s eyes and the words died in their throat.

They never saw any of that. All they saw was white walls and Colleen’s face when she told them I was dead.

“Whatever,” Finn murmured. “He’s around. He’ll come back.”

“Why shouldn’t we make him watch—”

“Ellis, please,” Finn huffed. Their hands shook, and they squeezed them together, hard. “Let’s just… get this done.”

They’d spent all day yesterday looking through the book of emergency medicine Gray had brought them from Crayton. There was plenty of information about how to treat acute burns: remove the thing causing it, remove surrounding clothing and jewelry, dress the burn in sterile gauze, give fluids… was it 20 mL/kg in the first eight hours? Or the first four? They shook their head. Doesn’t matter.

It didn’t matter, because the book didn’t contain any information on how to repair a burn once it had already healed. There was no information on how to reduce scarring, or heal a burn completely.

Simple solution: cut it off. Or, at least, cut enough that the brand was unrecognizable.

I still get to keep the scar.

Vera’s mouth hardened into a line as she stepped forward. Her eyes moved over the little table and the tools that sat on it. Then she raised her gaze to Finn. They shivered at the blankness that flashed through her eyes, for just a moment.

They wet their lips. “Thank you for doing this,” they rasped.

“Of course,” Vera mumbled, her lips trembling. “You’ve done so… so much. For us.”

Finn looked at Ellis where they stood behind the table, their arms crossed over their chest. Finn’s gaze dropped to look at Ellis’s stomach and warmth washed over them. Ellis and I made something beautiful, and it’s right in front of me. Everything Finn wanted, everything that could be, dropped away at that simple truth. Ellis and I made a baby, and it’s already the most beautiful thing in the world. I don’t give a shit if it’s only a few thousand cells right now.

For now, though, they had work to do. Yesterday they found out there was a baby growing inside Ellis. Today they were desperate to get the brand off their skin that put their baby in harm’s way, if they were ever discovered. The thought of it sent a bolt of terror scalding through Finn. Pain flared in the brand like it was fresh.

“Let’s do this,” Finn said, curling their hand into a fist.

Vera swallowed, and the sound filled the bathroom for a moment. Finn shifted forward and laid their right arm out across the table. They turned their palm up to the ceiling and looked at the healed scar on the inside of their forearm. A perfect circle, a little bigger than a robin’s egg. The silhouette of a raven’s head sat in the center, with vines curling around the edges. The Stormbeck family crest, marking Finn as their property. Owned.

“Wh-what does this mean?” Finn sobbed as the guards released them. They slumped to the floor, trembling with shock. “I… what…?” They looked at their arm, at the red, open wound of the burn. They could just make out the shape in the center. Their stomach heaved and they gagged on the smell of burnt flesh. Their burnt flesh.

“What’s it look like?” one of the guards sneered. His hand shot out and closed on Finn’s collar. He jerked them upright. They clawed at the collar and cried out as the movement made the burned skin spike hotter.

“Finn!” Sam screamed weakly. “Leave… leave them alone!”

The guard snorted. “I’d be more worried about yourself, little one,” he said over his shoulder. Finn shuddered as he turned around again to look at Finn. “I would have thought the collars made it pretty fucking clear what you are now, Finn Dunham.”

“Parallel lines, right Finn?” Vera said softly, her finger moving gently over the brand. Her touch over the scar felt distant, as if she was touching them through a layer of cotton. Nerve cells only exist in the dermis layer of the epithelium— “Like this?”

“Yeah,” Finn said, watching her finger move. “Diagonal, like that. I would but a star of life there instead, but…” They laughed tightly, the sound far too loud in the small room. “That seemed a little morbid.”

“Yeah,” Vera said, straightening. She drew herself up to her full height and crossed to the sink against the wall.

“Might be a good idea for you to wash your hands, too, Ellis,” Finn said, keeping their eyes down. “Even if you don’t touch—”

Ellis rushed to the sink and waited their turn to wash up. “Y-yeah, babe,” they whispered. “Whatever you need.”

Vera dried her hands on a paper towel and went to Finn’s side again. She chewed her lip before she finally took a seat in the chair across the table from Finn. Her gaze was fixed on the brand on their arm.

“I wish you had those, um… those rubber gloves. The sterile ones,” she said in a small voice.

Finn snorted. “Yeah, same,” they said, and laughed again so they wouldn’t whimper. “But apparently they’re fucking hard to come by. Gray ordered me some. Crayton should get a shipment in a week or so, but… we’re going to have to volunteer for a while until those are paid off.”

Ellis blew out an irritated breath through their nose. “As if we haven’t paid our debt to fucking society…”

“They can’t just give us free shit forever,” Finn said weakly. They eyed the razor where it sat on the table, resting lightly on a bed of sterile gauze. It glinted in the light, a cold, grey gleam.

“They absolutely can,” Ellis grumbled.

Finn’s eyes slid shut for a moment. This had to happen now, before they pulled back, before they ran like a coward from the razor and from the pain. They were the only one, the only one, that Colleen hadn’t touched. They hadn’t even seen Colleen, after the first night they were taken. They could take a little pain, now. They could take it for their family. For their baby.

But only if it happened right now.

“V-Vera,” they murmured. “Vera—”

“We can try something else,” she said, leaning away and lifting her hands. “We don’t have to—”

“No,” Finn said, and their voice broke. Shame burned on their cheeks. They cleared their throat. “Now. Come on.”

Vera looked at Finn for a long moment, her eyes moving back and forth between theirs. Then she leaned forward and unscrewed the cap from the bottle of alcohol. “Okay,” she said softly. “Let’s do this. Ellis, you want to—”

“Wh-wherever they want me,” Ellis said, tripping over the words. “Anything. Finn, what do you want?”

Finn held out their left hand, and flushed with embarrassment at how badly they were shaking. “Hold my hand?” they said softly. Ellis reached out and laced their fingers through Finn’s. They stood by their side at the table. They both looked to Vera.

Vera poured some alcohol out onto a square of gauze. “You sure you don’t want to take some—”

“Those pills are Sam’s,” Finn said, setting their jaw. “I’m not taking them. They’re recovering from surgery. This is—”

“—cosmetic surgery,” Vera said, an edge to her voice as her mouth twisted in a bitter, lopsided smile. She gently pressed the gauze over the brand and cleaned it, wiping the gauze in widening circles out and out. She dropped the used gauze into the trashcan beside her. Her hands hovered over the table before she finally took the razor into her hands.

“Well, then, make me pretty,” Finn said through their teeth. “I want what I’m paying for.” They laughed, once, and the room fell into a painful silence.

“This is gonna hurt like a bitch,” Vera said finally. Finn raised their gaze to her and she held theirs, the razor held tightly in her hand. “I’m just saying. Like… it’s going to fucking hurt.”

You would know.

Finn nodded. “I know that,” they rasped. “It’s okay. I’m, um… r-ready.”

“Might consider taking a pill after this, then,” Vera mumbled. She gently took Finn’s wrist in one hand and steadied the razor above the brand in the other. “Ready?” she said, and the word fell heavy on Finn’s ears.

“Ready,” they whispered.

Vera took in a deep breath through her nose. She blew it out slowly through her lips and brought the blade of the razor to Finn’s arm.

Finn instantly went rigid as the razor pressed against the brand, cold and sharp. Vera glanced up at them and set her mouth in a hard line. “Don’t pull away,” she croaked, her voice flat and empty.

“S-sorry,” Finn whispered. The hair on their arms stood up as Vera brought the razor to their skin again.

The razor dipped into their skin, and they hissed in a breath. “Fuck.”

“I know,” Vera murmured, and dragged the razor across the brand.

“Aah, shit,” Finn whimpered, turning their head away. Vera cut diagonally across the corner of the brand, a short, thin line of blood. They leaned towards Ellis. Ellis dropped to their knees beside Finn and wrapped their arms around them.

“Sorry,” Vera said softly, as she finished the first line. A bead of blood appeared in the cut.

Finn stared at it, the pain stabbing into their awareness, chasing all their thoughts away. “But… will that…?”

“I can make it deeper,” Vera said, gently turning Finn’s arm to inspect the cut. “But if I make some shallow ones and you pick at them as they heal, it’ll still scar, and it won’t hurt nearly as much.”

“P-picking increases risk of infection,” Finn said dully. The words tasted metallic and bland.

Vera smiled slightly. “Yeah,” she said softly, “But since your genius ass decided to hold off on the meds, I don’t think I’ll be able to cut deep enough for it to scar on its own.”

Finn chewed their lip as they stared at the blood shining a garish red on their arm. “F-Fine,” they said softly. “I’ll do that.”

“It’s still gonna hurt like a bitch, Finn,” Vera said, razor hovering an inch above Finn’s arm.

Finn swallowed against the nausea rising in them. They blew out a steadying breath and forced themself to meet Vera’s eyes. “Ready,” they rasped.

Vera nodded curtly and brought the razor to Finn’s arm again.

Finn shuddered and bit down on a scream as Vera pressed the razor in harder. They buried their face in Ellis’s shoulder and groaned when Vera lifted the blade from their skin.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “The scar tissue is… um… thick, thicker than I thought it would be.”

A slash of fire burned across Finn’s arm. The razor had to have cut through most of the brand. The pain was everywhere, sweeping away every other sensation in Finn’s body. They could no longer feel the cold tile on their feet, or the press of Ellis’s hand in theirs. Their awareness had narrowed to a single, searing pain that seemed to stretch across their entire arm.

They pulled away from Ellis and looked at the cut. Only the slightest sliver of the edge of the brand had been cut through. They whimpered and squeezed their eyes shut.

“You can scream if you want to,” Vera said softly. Finn nodded, and she let the razor press against their skin right beside the cut she had just made. Blood smeared on Finn’s arm.

Again the razor drew a line of fire against Finn’s skin. The scream that tore from them broke with their sob.

“Ahh,” Finn moaned, tears suddenly streaming down their face and mixing with the sweat shining on their skin. “F-fuck. How…” They raised their eyes to Vera. She kept her gaze studiously down, fixed on the blood oozing up from the slits across the brand. “H-how did you and Isaac deal with this?” they whispered.

Vera froze. Her lips trembled and her mouth twisted. “I-Isaac and I didn’t have a choice,” she said weakly. “You do. You’re strong. You’re choosing to take this pain.”

“You said you had to take it so Joseph would trust you,” Finn said, trembling violently.

Vera paused, the razor held tightly in her hand. “Th-that was different,” she whispered.

“But Vera, it—”

“You ready?” she said, tremulously, like she was moments from running from the room. Finn’s hand squeezed into a fist. They nodded.

The razor dipped into their skin again. Finn’s mouth fell open in a desperate scream as their skin split under the blade. The muscles in their arm tensed, pulled, trying to wrench away from Vera’s grip even as Finn desperately tried to hold themself still. It was like holding a hand over a flame, while the pain built and built until their body took over and tried to make it stop.

Finn’s arm jerked. Vera pulled the razor away from Finn’s arm. Her throat worked around a swallow and her eyes brimmed with tears. “Finn,” she said, and darkness moved in her voice. “I need you to not—”

“Ellis,” Finn gasped, shivering, as the pain tore at their mind. “I… I need you to hold me down.”

Ellis pressed their hand to their mouth and muffled a whimper.

“Please, babe,” Finn said, their free hand clamped down on Ellis’s. “Please. This…” Finn blinked tears away and met Ellis’s gaze. They pushed away the dread, the inescapable need to pull away, to cower, to hide. They reached out in their awareness for the tiny bead of light they’d imagined growing in Ellis, and drew upon its strength. “For the family, Ellis,” they rasped. “For… for the baby.”

There was a flicker of hesitation behind Ellis’s eyes, and for a moment, Finn crumpled. We’ll have to ask the others. We’ll have to ask Isaac, and it’ll hurt him. He listened to us all scream and hated himself every single day for it. He can’t hear me scream again. I can’t put this burden on him.

But I can burden the others?

Ellis’s mouth hardened, and their eyes flashed with something that made Finn’s heart thud in their chest. Ellis leaned forward and pinned Finn’s arm down to the table with an iron grip.

“Do it,” they said, with a voice like iron.

Continued here

@untilthepainstarts, @womping-grounds, @free-2bmee, @quirkykayleetam, @walkingchemicalfire, @inpainandsuffering, @redwingedwhump, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @whatwhumpcomments, @cursedscribbles, @whumpywhumper, @stxck-fxck, @omega-em-z-02, @whumps-the-word, @justwhumpitwhumpitgood, @justplainwhump, @moose-teeth, @slaintetowhump, @finder-of-rings, @inky-whump, @thatsthewhump, @orchidscript, @insanitywishes, @this-mightaswell-happen, @newandfiguringitout, @whumpkitty, @pretty-face-breaker, @cinnamonflavoredhugs, @inaridriscoll, @im-just-here-for-the-whump, @endless-whump, @grizzlie70, @oops-its-whump

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malthemagnifisent · 4 years

Text

Plot: Leo receives a call from his brother telling him that their Mother wanted to see them, that she wanted to meet up, but Leo can’t bring himself to even make a decision about whether he wants to go or not.

Trigger warnings: Mentions of child neglect and alcoholism and just shitty parenting in general.

Tag list: @choicesstan1 (ask if you’d like to be added 🥺)

Leo’s head was pounding and his hands were balled into fists at his sides, he had just got a stressful call from his brother and no matter how long he paced back and forth he couldn’t stop his mind from racing.

He had actually forgotten he was in the diagnostic teams office until the door opened and June walked in, she paused in the doorway and quirked a single sculpted eyebrow “if you’re having a breakdown maybe you shouldn’t do it in such a public space” she told him, entering the room fully and making her way to the computer.

Leo pursed his lips and looked down at his phone which was still clutched in his hand “I’m not having a breakdown, I just got off the phone with my brother and-“ he stopped mid sentence and just sighed “you know what? It doesn’t matter, do you know where Ethan is?” He asked.

June didn’t even look up when she answered “cafeteria” she said, her fingers racing over the keyboard of the computer as she typed.

He hummed and turned to leave “thanks” he mumbled, only getting a quiet hum of acknowledgement as he slipped from the room and headed dejectedly towards the elevator.

The ride down seemed to drag on for ages, but eventually it stopped with a small jolt and the door opened, letting Leo out, he turned left and made his way to the cafeteria.

His mood improved at least a little when his eyes landed on Ethan, he was sitting with a book in his hand, his glasses placed on his nose and a plate of fries sitting forgotten in front of him.

Leo smiled softly and walked over to his table, taking a seat across from him and plucking a fry from his plate “whatcha reading?” He asked in a sing-song voice.

Ethan lowered his book and peered at Leo, an amused look in his eyes “I know you must be in debt, but can you not afford your own fries?” He asked, “taking mine is theft”

Leo shrugged and popped another fry in his mouth “you deserve it, because who puts ketchup on fries like that?” He chuckled, gesturing at the plate where ketchup was drizzled over the plate of fries.

Ethan sighed and set down his book before slipping off his glasses and pushing the plate towards Leo, resigning himself to letting his food be eaten.

“I really don’t know what you mean, the ketchup is normal Leo” he tried to reason, “that’s how people eat”

Leo scoffed as he continued eating “old people maybe” he teased, his chest filling with warmth as it always seemed to do when he was around Ethan.

Ethan let out a long-suffering sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose “I’m not even that much older than you” he muttered, “like what? Nine years? That’s barely any time”

Leo chuckled and popped a last fry into his mouth “maybe, but those Nine years have made a difference, after all your rich as fuck and I as you said am in debt, that’s the kind of difference only old age can bring about”

Ethan rolled his eyes and picked up his book once again “I am not that rich” he said, so quietly he didn’t think Leo even heard.

He half expected Leo to get up and leave now that the fries were gone, but instead he stayed and started staring at the table with a dejected expression, his shoulders slumping now that he no longer had Ethan’s annoyance to distract him.

So Ethan once again set aside his book and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows as he spoke “what’s wrong?” He asked.

Leo jumped in his seat almost like he had forgotten Ethan was sitting in front of him, he chewed anxiously on his lip and pulled the sleeves of his coat down his hands, his fingers toying with a loose thread.

He looked briefly up at Ethan before his eyes shot back down to the table “it’s nothing” he mumbled, trying to pull a smile back onto his face, but failing miserably.

Ethan furrowed his brows and leaned forward, resting his arms on the table “Leo, I know you well enough by now that I know when something is wrong, so tell me”

Leo opened his mouth as if to speak and then snapped it shut again, this process repeated a couple more times before he just groaned and slouched down in his chair “I don’t know how to talk about this” he muttered.

Ethan frowned and stood up “come on, let’s go somewhere private, you clearly need someone to talk to, but I don’t think the cafeteria is the right place to do that”

Leo shrugged weakly and stood up, brushing his fingers through his hair as he followed after Ethan “where are we going?” He asked.

Ethan didn’t give any form of answer, instead he just led Leo to the doorway for the staircase and opened it, gesturing for Leo to walk through ahead of him.

“Such a gentleman” Leo smiled slightly and stepped past Ethan and into the stairwell, Ethan followed behind him and as soon as the door closed behind them he took Leo’s hand in his own and pulled him up the steps “if you wanted alone time you can just ask, no need to make excuses” Leo said suggestively, a small smirk flashing over his lips.

Ethan remained silent as they continued to walk, ascending more and more stairs which quirkily led to Leo complaining “where are we going? My feet hurt from climbing all these stairs”

“Do you ever have any patience?” Ethan muttered, but his voice echoed strangely throughout the stairwell “we’re going to the roof, it’s not that far and besides if you get tired just from this I think that means you need the exercise”

Leo groaned and squeezed Ethan’s hand “oh low blow, not everyone can be as naturally athletic as you” he said, his thumb brushing softly over Ethan’s knuckles.

Ethan offered no response and they walked the rest of the admittedly short distance in silence, soon they emerged onto the roof and Leo let out a sigh of relief, immediately taking a seat on the ground.

Ethan took one look at Leo and let his head fall into his hand with a sigh “why must you sit on the ground?” He asked, but quirkily spoke again “actually you know what, never mind” he added.

Leo smiled thinly “well there aren’t any chairs” he said, while patting the ground beside him, indicating Ethan should sit as well.

The look of annoyance he got from Ethan made him laugh quietly, but the way Ethan let out what Leo thought was a muttered curse word and sat down beside him, that just made Leo smile fondly.

“Now we’re alone, so Rookie tell me what’s wrong?” Ethan asked, his eyes trained entirely on Leo’s face.

Letting out a sigh Leo leaned over and let his head fall against Ethan’s shoulder “my brother called” he mumbled, the words quickly whisked away in a puff of wind that ruffled his hair with its force.

Ethan frowned and set his hand gently onto Leo’s knee “what’s the issue? I thought you and your brother got along?”

“We do,” Leo answered, pausing for a moment as he tried to think of what to say next. “I don’t really talk about this with people, but my parents kind of suck” he explained.

Ethan hummed softly to show he was listening, not wanting to say anything until Leo was finished, this was clearly something personal and he didn’t want to make Leo uncomfortable by being pushy.

“My dad was constantly cheating on my mom and when he wasn’t doing that he was getting drunk and my mom, well she never really cared about us, she would just leave us alone all the time without saying where she was going, my brother had to grow up so fast just so he could help take care of me” Leo lamented, the guilt of relying on his brother for so long had always been something he struggled with, his brother gave up so much just so Leo could have a future and it hurt him to think about.

He sniffed and rubbed at his nose, continuing his story “so they were never happy, but instead of just getting a divorce they decided to stick it out and stay together ‘we stay together for you kids’ they used to say, but that was a lie, they never gave a damn about us so why stay together!” Leo said, his voice rising as he spoke.

“They would stay up late almost every night just screaming at each other, than it just got worse, they didn’t just get into fights about my dad's cheating, they got into fights about me and my brother” Leo’s voice cracked on the last word and he lifts his hand to scrub at his suddenly watering eyes

“how my dad never wanted kids in the first place and she just did it to appease my mom, how everything would have been better if neither of us had been born, how if we weren’t there then maybe he wouldn’t have cheated, maybe they would have still been happy” Leo swallowed thickly and lifted his head from Ethan’s shoulder, blinking the tears from his eyes.

“I remember one night, I was about ten at the time, they were screaming at each other and my dad tried to send us to our room, but mom got angry and said ‘don’t go sending them to their room, they know this is their fault so why shouldn’t they be here’ and I just broke down crying, I didn’t understand why it was my fault, but I believed her” he sniffed and looked up through his lashes at Ethan.

The older man was staring at him with a soft expression that he seemed to only ever wear when they were alone.

Leo cleared his throat and pulled his legs up to his chest, resting his chin on his knee and feeling all together like a child once again, sitting on his bedroom floor and playing doctor with his brother so they could distract themselves from the screaming.

“It really only got worse over the years, it got so bad that my mom left, she didn’t say goodbye or anything, just one night she was there and the next morning she was gone” he mumbled, startling slightly when Ethan reached over to take his hand.

“That’s what the call was about, my mother, she got into contact with my brother and said she wanted to meet up, he didn’t know what to do, so he called me” Leo let out a shaky sigh and furiously blinked his eyes, trying to fight back a fresh wave of tears “and I also don’t know what to do”

A heavy sigh escaped Ethan and he lifted his hand to place it on Leo’s cheek, turning his face so they were eye to eye “you are under no obligation to meet with her” he said seriously.

Leo’s bottom lip wobbled and he bit down on it, trying fruitlessly to stop the flow of tears that swelled once again in his brown eyes “but she’s my mom” he choked out, a small hiccup following it “I know she wasn’t the best mother, but if I don’t at least hear her out then I’m just being an asshole”

“If that makes you an asshole then so be it, you told me I was allowed to be angry at my mother, you told me I didn’t owe her anything, so why are you any different?” Ethan asked, his forehead creasing with worry and a slight amount of anger, directed not at Leo, but at his parents.

Ethan had experience with shitty mother’s and whenever someone he was close with had similar problems it always grated on his nerves, but with Leo it was worse somehow, because how could someone do that to Leo of all people, who was so happy and willing to help, who always tried to be the strongest person in the room even when he was scared.

“You can tell you’re mother to leave, that she’s not welcome in your life anymore and that would be ok, you could also decide to meet up with her and try to talk, because Leo there are no wrong answers here” he explained in an level voice, his arms coming up to wrap around Leo’s shoulder’s and pull him against himself.

Leo returned the hug as tightly as he could muster, Ethan rarely initiated hugs so when he did Leo made sure to return it full force “you’re right, I know you are, it’s just hard because if I meeting with her seems so hard, but if I did meet her how am I supposed for forgive her?”

“Who said anything about forgiveness?” Ethan asked, his lips pressed firmly against Leo’s head as he spoke “if you meet with her that doesn’t mean you forgive her, forgiveness is hard, sometimes it might not even be possible”

Leo chuckled wetly into Ethan’s chest “how are you so wise?” He asked, his hands scrunching tightly into the fabric on the back of Ethan’s shirt.

Ethan sighed as he gently cupped Leo’s damp face in his hands “old age will do that to you” he murmured, his lips coming down to press softly to Leo’s.

Leo let out another quiet laugh into the kiss “are you admitting that you’re an old man?” He teased, his hands sliding around to rest against Ethan’s chest.

“If it will make you happy then yes, this is my confession, I am an old man”

Leo snorted and rolled his eyes “well now you took all the fun out of teasing you, if you admit to your oldness that means I can’t torment you about it anymore”

Ethan sighed and raked a hand through his hair “will you ever be satisfied with me?”

Leo paused to think for a moment before shaking his head “not likely, but I can try” he suggested, his phone going off with a quiet beep as he finished speaking.

He picked it from his pocket and chuckled as he read the message “Sienna requests my help, apparently Elijah and Bryce have started a game of truth or dare and she’s afraid it will get out of control” he explained and slipped his phone back in his pocket “oh and Sienna says hi, she definitely saw us coming up here”

“I swear she knows everything,” Ethan muttered.

Leo nodded “yeah it can seem like that sometimes” he agreed, his hand grabbing softly into Ethan’s and lacing their fingers together as he pulled him towards the roofs exit “thanks for bringing me up here, you were right, I needed to talk about it” he admitted.

“Anytime you need to talk I’m always here Leo” Ethan said, their footsteps echoing as they started the descent down the stairs.

“I know you do sweetheart” Leo responded.

Ethan pulled a face and shook his head “yeah, no, don’t call me that”

Leo grinned “aw do you not like it? What about darling? Princess? Snugglypoo? Boo bear?”

Ethan’s face shifted to his usual annoyance and he hung his head “I can’t believe I’m in love with you”

Leo’s laugh reverberated throughout the stairwell “I love you too Ethan” he giggled, his heart far lighter then it had been just earlier that day, but then again it wasn’t really surprising, Ethan tended to have that effect in him.

Notes: this was kinda rushed so I’m sorry if it’s not great, but please enjoy

#play choices #playchoices #mine #open heart #pb #choices #open heart 2 #mc x ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey #ethan ransey x mc #open heart fanfiction #male mc #my writing

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codyssfern · 5 years

Note

could you write something where the reader goes looking for xavier after running away from jingles and she finds him after having killed bertie and he’s all shocked? idk if i explained myself correctly 😩

your wish is my command! i will try my best not to disappoint you xox

—

{ gif credit emesqualor }

“where are you going?” chet asks holding onto your hand, “we’re supposed to wait for them here!”

trevor and xavier have been gone too long and your anxiety was starting to get too much to bare. you had to go out there and check things for yourself.

“chet they’ve been gone too long!” you whisper yell, “trevor can at least throw some punches but xavier almost throws up at the sight of blood. i have to go check on him.”

you start look around the infirmary for something sharp, not wanting to leave chet unarmed. all you could find was a pair of old medical scissors but at least it was something.

“here,” you hand him the scissors, “for protection though i’m praying that you don’t need it.”

chet had just had a stake taken out his shoulder. he had fallen in what he called a pinju trap. some sort of stick trap people used in the veitnam war. all you could see when you looked at chet’s shoulder was a gaping hole with blood oozing out of it. you couldn’t help but feel bad for him. him being an athlete and all that. though deep down you had a feeling he wasn’t going to make it.

“xavier?” you whisper as you walk into the cafeteria. your footsteps echoing amongst the walls, “xavier? are you here?”

you look around and notice food laying all over the table and some spilled on the floor. it looks like as if maybe bertie was preparing something for when the kids arrived at camp. when you started approaching the kitchen area that’s when you saw it. a trail of blood. it lead to the back of the kitchen.

“shit!” you curse, “xavier? xavier are you he-”

what you laid eyes on next is something that would probably take you a while to erase from your memory. xavier was curled up in a corner, knees to his chest and eyes glued to bertie’s lifeless body. her clothes covered in blood, mostly the chest area where it looked like she’d been stabbed.

“x-xavier what happened?” you couldn’t move. neither could he.

he points to bertie’s body, “i killed her. i killed her.” he cried out, “i-i i didn’t mean to.”

you immediately feel an insane amount of heat burning you up. you notice the oven was on and that the door was open. none of this was making any sense. as you walked towards the oven to close the door, you saw xavier flinch. when you take a good look at him… your brain kind of put two and two together.

“xavier your face, your hands,” you begin as you crouch to be on his level, “did bertie- did she put you in there?”

he shakes his head no, repeatedly, “no. no, no she would never. she let me out. it was jingles.” his voice was shaky and his body trembling.

“did you really kill her?”

you couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. you’ve never known xavier as a violent person. that question only made him cry harder, his sobs were now what was echoing amongst the walls.

“j-jingles got to her first but then she asked me to,” he points to the blood covered knife next to bertie’s body. you nod your head not wanting to make him recall the moment, “she begged me but i didn’t want to.”

you couldn’t help but cry with him. cry for him. his face was covered blisters, it was swollen too. the burnt layer of skin making it hard to almost recognize him. the blisters and dead skin on his hands made it hard for him to move them. he must be in so much pain, you thought to yourself.

“xavier we have to go.” you look at him, his eyes not leaving bertie out of their sight, “hey, we have to go okay? it’s not safe here and we have to find the others.”

tears were filling his eyes but couldn’t see them stream down his face from all the damage laying on his skin.

“just leave me here, y/n. there’s nothing out there for me anymore anyways.” he whimpers as he tries standing up.

“careful!” you say trying to help him up, “and don’t say that. there’s so much out there for yo-”

he scoffs, “look at my face!” he yells, “look at what i did to her!” he walks passed you and over to bertie, “why do i get to live and she doesn’t?”

“i don’t know! i don’t know xavier but you’ve been given a chance and you can’t stay here.” you cry, “i know bertie would agree. she got you out of there, she saved you for a reason.”

now he was pacing around the room. you’d never seen him like this but you weren’t surprised after all he’s seen and done tonight.

“xavier, chet is alive and injured. trevor is out there trying to find margaret, brooke’s with fake rita and montana,” you actually didn’t know where she was, “well i don’t know where she is but i know she’s alive. we have to go get them. please.”

he takes a deep breath, “that guy with the stake in his eye.. i knew him. i worked with him,” he was struggling to speak, “worked for him. did all kinds of stuff for him. he liked how i look. told me it would get me places and it did actually.”

“you’re more than just a pretty face or a hot body, xavier. your face will heal,” you tried to comfort him, “when we get the fuck out of this camp, i can take you to see someone okay? but right now we have to go.”

he looked at you and nodded. you sigh in relief and went to grab his arm so you could walk out together but he stopped you.

“wait,” he says looking back down at bertie, “doesn’t feel right leaving her exposed like this.”

you look around trying to find something you could use to cover her body. any kind of fabric. you noticed what looked like table mantel folded by the apron rack and went to grab it.

“here.” you hand him the soft fabric.

once he’s covered bertie’s body and feels rather okay with everything. he tells you it’s okay to go.

“you ready?” you look at him.

he nods, “let’s get the hell out of here.”

#ahs 1984 #ahs 1984 spoilers #american horror story #xavier plympton #xavier plympton x reader #xavier plympton imagine #xavier plympton fic #xavier plympton x you #xavier plympton rec #american horror story 1984 #requests #anons #chef bertie #chet clancy #trevor kirchner #imagines #one shots #xavier plympton one shot

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stardancerluv · 4 years

Text

The Adventure of a King and his Queen

Part 4

Summary: Talking to Roman, brings the first moments you two shared back. Will remembering the past help in the uncertainty of the future.

Arthur’s note: (about the collage first)

On the left you see some images from 1st Collage I made for Roman and this particular reader. The middle is from the past but his ability to still be terrifying so I broughtit as a strong half way point between the past and present. Right side...simply the present moment.

In the story, there is some italics is Reader’s memory of how the events unfolded in Part One of Creative Fervor.

Freshening, yourself up you prepared for talking to Roman. It wasn’t till you were there did it really hit you that he could very feasibly say no.

He was going to say yes. He just had to.

You went to the bedroom. You found a dress that you were found of despite being eight months pregnant. Stepping into the bathroom, you brushed your hair, so it was nice and silky.

Feeling, more beautiful then you had in a long time. Sure you felt pretty. You felt very mommy like but anything else, not since he took great pride in making you a mommy. That was the Roman you wanted back. With a pang in your heart, you went to the bar and made him a drink. Going to his office, you were happy to see that he was alone.

You knocked, this time you didn’t just enter.

“Baby.” He said softly. “Come in.”

Happily, you did so. Perhaps, the talk...the kiss lingered in his memory.

Your fingers brushed against each other as he took the glass from you.

“Roman, do we have time?”

He tiled his head to one side. “What’s on your mind.”

“I have something very important to discuss with you.”

He stood then. His hand went to your stomach. His eyes were vivid as he looked at you. “Is the baby ok?”

The baby kicked as if knowing know daddy was there. You placed your hand over his. “The baby is saying hello.”

Your eyes met, you were able to forget what those bitches had done to your life.

He took his drink and inhaled it. He gently rubbed where his hand laid. “What is on your mind?”

“Please go and sit on your sofa, I want you to be comfortable when I tell you this.”

His eyes narrowed but then he shrugged. “I can do that.”

Truth of the matter for some reason, fear entered your heart as you walked over to the door and closed it.

You took three steps towards him....you remembered...

Some five years ago, you found yourself handcuffed to a chair downstairs. You had heard his voice before he had stepped out of the shadows.

You took three more steps...

Your crush on him, had been long since been forgotten. You only knew what you had read in the papers. Club owner. Violent. Killed for power. There was Victor, he was the one who nabbed you. Oh, how he made you shake despite him being very contrite towards you. You will never forget to thay had made you initally shak like with fear, both of then had.

You took two more, steps. As you saw him then, you remembered how you felt when yours eyes settled on him once the blindfold was removed.

You remembered how you had found him incredibly handsome and absolutely terrifying all at once.

Just like right now., finally you were able to sit beside him on the sofa.

“Talk to me, baby.” His hand went over yours.

“Roman, I would do anything for you.”

He nodded.

“And I will continue to do anything.” You paused as tears filled in your eyes, you bowed your head much like that first time

His hand, tilted your head up. “Don’t hide from me even if its tears.”

“Ok.” You took a breath and swallowed it. “Roman, I wanted to kill those bitches that night. I wanted to kill them for stealing you away from me, for stealing you away from our baby.”

“I was still here.” You heard his voice waver, you met his eyes. Those black metal lips pressed together. “Alright, but I just didn’t want you have look at what I became. What was taken away from me. “

“But I love you.” You grabbed his shoulder, as you looked into the crashing waves that were his eyes “I didn’t care, I still don’t.“ Your anguish finally bubbled and simply flowed from your mouth, your words.

“I know this was your mask, part of you,” You cupped the cold metal. “But was never something that completed who you were.”

“Yes.”

“So when this happened, I decided to start looking for ways to separate the two of you once again.”

“Oh?”

You nodded. “Never once did I ever let it be known who I was looking for or for that who I was.”

“That’s good.” He paused. “In retrospect it scares me that you did this in well your state.”

“I was careful. I made sure I never was exposed until today.”

“What?” His voice filled the room.

“I found a solution that needed a face to face encounter.”

“What if something hopped to you? Or the baby?”

“I can honestly, say despite it all if I were to die hoping to bring you a solution I was willing to do it.”

He grabbed you then. “Oooowwww.” You called out. His grasp on your chin hurt.

His face was close to yours. “I am not worthy of that kind of sacrifice.”

“Yes, you are. You are the man I love.”

He continued to look at you but didn’t say a word.

“I am here. I am back from that meeting.”

He let you go of your chin. “I need another drink.”

“I will grab it.”

“I have a bottle in my desk.”

You shared a look but didn’t utter a work. Going over you opened the drawer. You found the bottle, opening it. You poured a healthy drink

Coming back, as you handed him the glass his fingers brushed yours again.

“Tell me.” He drank half of what you poured. “Who did you meet with?”

“Ras Al Ghul.”

@darling-i-read-it @spn-obession @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @ewanfuckingmcgregor @zodiyack @angel98624 @starwarsprequelfangirl @nebulastarr @emyliabernstein @thepeachreads @itsknife2meetu @whyisgmora @theblackmaskclub @omghappilyuniquebouquetlove @nomnomnomnamja @poe-kadot26 @top-rumbelle-fan @primadonna-girl23 @hazel-nuss @vcat55 @feelthemadnessinside @rosionis @queenofgotham800 @brookisbi @peachthatdrinkslemonade @johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @scarlett-black1 @smoltiddygf @starwarsslytherin @dandycandy75

#part four #ewan mcgregor #roman sionis x you #roman sionis x reader #bop #birds of prey #roman sionis fanfiction #black mask x y/n #black mask fanfiction #black mask x you #black mask x reader #the adventure of the king and his queen

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verai-marcel · 4 years

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The Light That You Shine (RDR2 Fanfic, John Marston x F!Reader, Chapter 3 of 6, 18+)

Tags, Warnings, & Notes in Chapter 1. | Chapter 2

AO3 Link is here.

Chapter 3 - Gravity

Word Count: 2130

You were absolutely humming and dancing around your shop the next day. The date had gone brilliantly; the two of you talked about the town and how much it had changed in so little time; he hadn’t been back for a year, and you hadn’t been back for two years, only having returned a week ago. He talked about living in the big city, but was vague about where he lived. You were surprised that he’d drive all the way over here to see you.

“40 minutes ain’t that far,” he had said. To you, the 20 minutes to your aunt’s place was an eternity. But you also hated driving. Or being in cars in general. Part of the reason you picked the place you lived was because just about everything you needed was within walking distance.

He had bought you dinner last night at your favorite little burger place. You had decided that if he was going to get to know you, then you might as well be up front about your eating habits. As you happily devoured your double burger cooked with onions and mustard mixed into the patties, you had looked over to see him watching you, a grin on his face.

“What?” you had asked, your mouth stuffed with burger.

“I love a woman who enjoys her food.”

You had nearly choked. Instead, you had taken a sip of your neopolitan shake and continued to eat, ignoring the heat suffusing your cheeks.

Tonight, he said he was going to let you pick the restaurant again, since you were paying. You had argued that since you had picked when he was paying, it was only fair that he picked this time.

But he was savvy; he told you that you’d know the area better than he did; he trusted your judgement.

So tonight was going to be the flip side of your food habits; a vegetarian place. It was a small place that specialized in veggie bowls with a grain of some kind. You wondered how he would handle it. You knew some guys were picky about this sort of thing, and while you had a fleeting thought that it might not be fair to judge someone based on their eating habits, you also knew that you wouldn’t have fun with someone who wasn’t as adventurous as you were.

When he showed up at 6PM again, just as you were wrapping up your work, he walked inside and looked around, marveling at your work. You had taken today to decorate the shop, put up signs, and make sure everything was beautiful and presentable. When you started, you weren’t sure you were going to be ready in time for your Saturday grand opening, but with John’s help the other day, you had a bit of time to spare.

“Place looks real nice,” he commented as he leaned closer to one of the display benches. You watched as he leaned in and sniffed the peony blossom, closing his eyes. It was such a contrast to how he looked. His biker boots were worn and scuffed, and a green plaid flannel wrapped around his waist. His hair was damp, looking black as if he had just gotten out of the shower. He wore ripped black jeans and a black button down sleeveless shirt that showed off his muscles perfectly.

“So, where we goin’ tonight?” he asked.

You grinned.

***

To your surprise, he didn’t complain; he only nodded and went with you, walking the three blocks to The Green Grill. You helped him order, and he didn’t try to mansplain or anything of the sort. He was just a down-to-earth, humble guy, and you could feel yourself falling for him more, even though it was only the second date.

Dinner. The second dinner.

Afterwards, like a gentleman, he walked you back to your place, holding your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. He had wrapped his flannel around your shoulders when you had shivered.

“That wasn’t too bad,” John said as the two of you reached your place. “Better than what I was expectin’.”

“And what were you expecting?”

“I dunno, goat food, I guess.”

You laughed at his answer. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t hate it,” you teased. Then you looked at him for a few moments. “You’re not just saying that to be nice, are you?”

He pulled you close. “I ain’t a nice man. But I’m always honest.” He cupped your cheek as he spoke, making sure he had eye contact with you so you knew his words were true.

Your heart beat stuttered at how close he was.

“Can I see you again?” he murmured, his raspy voice sending electric tingles down your spine.

“Of course,” you breathed. “If you want, you could come to my grand opening tomorrow morning.”

He suddenly looked a little sad. “I can’t, I have work.”

You nodded. “That’s alright. So do I,” you said, one side of your lips quirking up in a joking grin.

“Dammit, you’re so cute.”

He tipped your chin up with his forefinger and slowly leaned in. You gravitated towards him, closing your eyes as he closed his.

John’s small moan of pleasure as his lips met yours shot a zing of desire through your body. He stepped forward, pressing you up against the glass door as he kissed you more, his body covering yours, his hand gripping your hip and pulling you against him.

Then he pulled away, leaving you both breathless, pupils dilated with desire.

“Sorry, I got carried away,” he said, even though his face clearly said he wasn’t sorry.

“No, it’s fine, you.. That was nice,” you finished lamely.

He softly smiled at you before he took your hand, raised it to his mouth, and kissed the back of your knuckles. “I’ll call you when I’m free. I promise.”

You nodded, surprised by his touching gesture. He caressed your face delicately with his fingertips. “You get some rest. You got a big day ahead of you tomorrow.” He kissed your forehead. “See you later, sweetheart.”

As he walked away, you realized, with the pounding of your heart, that he could have easily continued to make out with you some more and you would not have stopped him. Instead, he hadn’t even given you the option to ask for more; he had stepped away to let you rest.

You went into your shop and turned in for the night, but couldn’t stop thinking of stormy grey eyes and a wry smile.

***

“That was barely enough to cover the work it took to get those cars,” John grumbled as he stuffed his cash into his wallet. Dutch had come by, dropped off the envelopes of money for the gang, and had taken off, claiming he had more work to find for them.

Arthur shrugged, but his face showed creases of worry on his forehead. “Dutch said it’s gettin’ harder to sell these days.”

“Then maybe we should find regular jobs.”

Arthur stopped walking and turned to John, who had continued to walk to his bike.

“What?” John asked when he finally noticed that Arthur wasn’t next to him.

Deep in thought, Arthur looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “This ain’t the way we was. We used to ride around for fun, took on jobs that helped others. Now, well, now we just use our bikes because they’re good for gettin’ away from the cops.”

They were both silent. They knew that the others had part time work, or worked a series of gigs to make money besides their work with the gang. For John and Arthur, the gang was all they had. Dutch was all they had, for the longest time. They were two orphans with a charismatic man for an adopted father who was changing more and more by the day.

Perhaps the silence was to mourn the loss of the life they had. But it hung in the air like a hangman’s noose, threatening to cut off their air.

John took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. “I’m goin’ for a ride.”

Arthur just nodded. “I’m gonna make a couple of deliveries,” he said as he walked towards the Sprinter van.

John knew what those deliveries were. He didn’t have to like it, but the pay provided for them, so he said nothing. He knew Arthur felt the same.

Hopping onto his bike, John took off to let his mind wander, letting himself ride with no destination in mind.

He found himself in a familiar town, on a familiar street, near a familiar storefront.

***

It had been a few days since you had seen John. He had called you at least once a day, asking you how your day was, asking how you were feeling. You didn’t ask when he could come see you; you didn’t want to seem clingy. He hadn’t said anything about when he’d be coming back; you assumed it was work that was keeping him away, and you understood that.

He had yet to call you tonight, as you sat at your work bench, putting your tools away.

Someone knocked on your door.

You saw a couple of older men in biker jackets, holding their helmets under their arms. Coming up to the door, you hesitated to open it after seeing their stern expressions.

“I’m sorry, we’re closed for the night,” you said through the glass.

“You new around here?” the taller of the two men asked gruffly.

You furrowed your eyebrows. Technically you grew up here, but then you left two years ago. “What do you want?” you asked, ignoring his question.

“Insurance funds. To protect your shop against vandalism.”

“I already pay insurance,” you said, ignoring the fact that this was clearly an extortion attempt.

“This is different. Call it a special insurance.”

“I’m calling the cops,” you said, pulling out your phone to call 911.

“Hey now, no need for that,” the shorter man said. “If you don’t think you need it, we’ll be on our way.” He nudged the other man with his elbow and together they walked off.

You looked at the back of their jackets; in large letters, ODB written across the top, with a green skull inside of a four-leaf clover below it. The letters MC were on the right of the symbol.

A biker gang.

You quickly googled ODB MC, to find that it was the O’Driscoll Boys Motorcycle Club, and they had recently started moving north. They had members known for extortion and money laundering, but the club itself had never been shut down, since it was the members and not the actual organization that did any of the crimes, or so the news said.

Shit. You wanted no part of this.

You called the police station to report the incident. Afterwards, as you attempted to put your phone back into your pocket, you realized you were shaking.

“John…” you mumbled, knowing that you could just call him if you wanted to hear his voice. How had he become the first name you thought of?

In your head, you heard his voice saying your name.

Then you heard a knock on the glass and turned around.

“John!”

You ran to the door and unlocked it quickly, throwing it open.

He looked at you, his eyes taking in your state in a heartbeat. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You crumpled to the ground and started shaking again.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” he coaxed, kneeling down and holding you in his arms. He rubbed your back soothingly. “I got you.”

***

You told him about the men, about the symbols on their jackets. John’s expression turned dark as you told him everything.

“They won’t quit, they’ll keep comin’ back. It ain’t safe for you here all alone.”

“I called the cops, they said they’ll put some extra patrols around here for a while.”

John let out a snort. “They’ll just wait’em out, then they’ll come back.” He suddenly gripped your shoulders. “You have any problems, you call me, you hear?”

You nodded. “Okay, John. But you’re 40 minutes away, I don’t expect you to just come riding in if I call you.”

John hung his head. “I know. But I’ll try to be here as often as I can. Alright?”

The conviction on his expression was touching, but you were a practical person. Unless he moved to your town, you were mostly on your own.

“Why don’t you stay with your aunt and uncle for a while?”

The thought had crossed your mind, but you had dismissed it pretty quickly. “I don’t want to trouble them…”

He shook you slightly. “This is your life we’re talkin’ about here! Troublin’ someone is the least of your worries!”

You nodded. “Okay, okay. I’ll call them.”

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

Chapter 4

#biker au #john marston #john x reader #rdr2 fanfic #writing #fanfic #eventual smut #modern au

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loki-hargreeves · 5 years

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Loki x Reader - Secret Rendezvous

Summary: As a Prince, Loki isn’t really allowed to join plays in the common Asgardian theatre. Some rules aren’t to stop the god of mischief, who sneaks out to join you at practice. Only you knew the talented actor was actually Loki. The two of you share a passion for theatre and often end up in some tricky situations. Then one day, Loki doesn’t show up to rehearsals and you decide to find him. He never misses rehearsals. Author’s Note: Screw the Marvel canon! This is before Thor 1 and Loki is happy. That’s it, enjoy this and if you do, please leave some feedback. Thank you :D Word Count: 4,3K Warnings: fluff, angst, vulgar language, more fluff

Your POV

“William Shake-speare? Shakes-peare? Shak-es-peare?” Loki tried to read the name of the man whose name was on a black book he was holding. We were on a little trip down on Midgard and we ended up in a big, beautiful library here in England. We weren’t in our Asgardian wear, of course not. We blended in with our coats and other common Midgardian attire. No one suspected a thing when two Asgardian gods just walked in here. Honestly, Loki and I loved the thrill, perhaps he did more than me. Loki was my friend and a damn good actor - which only I knew about. He used magic to disguise himself as a whole other person when we were at the theatre.

That’s why we were here. We wondered what Midgardian plays were like and now we were between large bookshelves, scanning them in search for something mildly interesting. And I was just happy to spend more time with my favourite god...

“William Shakespeare... A midsummer night’s dream. Do you think it’s good?” I read the title out loud. Loki was looking at me with a sweet smile on his pale face. It was hard not to focus on his beauty instead of the plays. Honestly, it sounded intriguing but it was written by a mere mortal. How great could their imagination get? I wasn’t expecting much so I could get surprised.

Loki opened the page on which the first act was on. “I don’t know. I say we take it,” he suggested with a naughty little smile. Well, it wouldn’t be the first book we took with us as a souvenir from Midgard. Some would call it stealing, we considered it borrowing.

“I agree,” The words left my mouth quietly but you could hear the mischief in my voice. Something that Loki strengthened in me, definitely. With him, I had more fun than ever before. We found ways to bend the rules without necessarily breaking them. He brought excitement to my life and he told me I brought excitement to his. He was a prince and I was just an actress.

After an hour or two later, we got outside and asked Heimdall to bring us home. We didn’t bother using the secret loopholes between worlds that Loki had discovered because Heimdall probably knew about this already. Thankfully, for Loki, Heimdall didn’t have the right to tell Odin that his son was sneaking out every other night to the common folks’ theatre.

We were in Loki’s chambers now. People were busy making appointments with Thor and Odin because they had been discussing that perhaps it would be time for Thor to be king. It wasn’t written on paper yet but there were speculations. I could tell it bothered Loki but he hadn’t talked about it much. I wanted to take his mind elsewhere and so far, I believe I was doing an alright job. We had some snacks and tea here and all the books we ‘borrowed’. We had Romeo and Juliet, Who’s Afraid Of Virginia Woolf, A Doll’s House and Betrayal - to name a few. Loki sat on his extravagant emerald green chair that had gold legs and small golden details all over the seat. I was on his bed because it was truly soft and comfortable. There was a pile of books on one of his desks. We were supposed to be practising our scenes for a play next moon. Truth be told, we remembered our lines well enough so we thought it would be alright to have some fun. Besides, practising at the royal palace wasn’t a good idea. No one could know Loki’s secret.

“I must admit, this is actually quite well-written,” Loki broke the silence that had lingered around us for a while. We both had our noses up in the books so it was easy for the silence to stay. His voice caught my attention and I placed my finger on the sentence I was reading so I could look up and not get lost. Once I set my eyes on Loki, I felt happy. He was truly focused on what he was reading so I had a little moment to just admire him. Could anyone get any more elegant? He was everything and a bit more. If only we could make our play embraces and love recitements reality.

“We should pay him a visit,” I said after a while. We had done such things before and it was fun. Messing with humans was probably not allowed but showing them something that wasn’t supposed to be was worth it. Their expressions were always priceless!

Loki finally faced me and it nearly caught me off guard. “We might as well bring flowers and light orbs, love,” he explained to me. “This was written in the 16th century. I doubt there is a 400-year-old man going by the name William Shakespeare there any more.”

Right. It wasn’t 1597 on Midgard anymore. I believe they were already at 2000-something. “Oh, I always forget how short their lives can be.”

“It’s humanity’s true tragedy, wouldn’t you say?” Loki played with theatrical words which made me roll my eyes playfully. He always knew what to say.

“Perhaps. But longevity can be a curse too.”

“Just like in our play,” Loki caught my hints. The play we were in was a tragedy about an Asgardian who was in love with a Midgardian. Loki actually has the part of the Asgardian man who is cursed to live thousands of years and I have the part of the woman who only lives a segment of her lover’s life. Loki had to play a part even at practice. He was disguised as a ginger Asgardian and he called himself Yormar Leifson.

“Which reminds me of, don’t we have rehearsals tomorrow?” I pondered as the thought surfaced in my mind.

Loki nodded, “At noon. We’re finally getting the costumes fitted.”

“I can’t wait!”

Next day at noon, I found myself at the street corner where I was supposed to meet with Loki. People were passing by from every direction and some stopped to say hello. That was nice, especially when they recognized me from my plays. Most Asgardians were nice, happy people. I didn’t mind chatting but I was a bit tense because Loki wasn’t here.

I just waited and waited...and waited, until we were twenty minutes late. It was probably not a big deal, but Loki never missed rehearsals, let alone arrived this late. It would still take five minutes from here to the theatre. Gosh, I already knew we would be yelled at for being late. Oh, Loki, what was he up to now?

Screw this, I thought. I knew I had to find Loki, even if it meant we missed rehearsals and costume fitting. Sure, we had the lead roles but they could do just fine without us - for now.

By using my magic, I got to the palace much quicker. I used teleportation which Loki had taught me. I wasn’t that good at it but I got there much quicker than what I would’ve by walking, and in one piece! The guard recognized me and allowed me to go inside. Although I could’ve found Loki’s chambers easily by myself, a guard walked me there for safety reasons, making sure the prince wanted guests and that I wasn’t there as a bothering pest. We arrived behind his door and the guard knocked on it before speaking up, “Prince Loki, you have a guest.”

It was quiet for a while. Then all of a sudden, the door appeared to be underneath a green film of magic and it opened, revealing a dark room. Why didn’t he have any lights in there? It seemed gloomy. I wasn’t sure what it was but my gut told me something was really off. I hoped he was good, that he just forgot but I knew it wasn’t like him.

“Who is it?” Loki called out almost angrily.

“It’s me, Loki!” I made my presence clear, probably annoying the guard but I couldn’t care less.

Silence.

The few moments were enough to make my heart beat harder and my palms to get sweaty. What if he told me to leave? I couldn’t just barge in there with the guard next to me. I would probably be banned from the palace!

“Come in.”

Thank gods!

The guard nodded and let me off the hook, walking away as I entered the room. Before I could close the door myself, Loki did so with his magic. Once the door was shut and the green glimmer of his magic vanished, it was dark again. Frankly, it took me a moment to get used to the dark, but when I did, I saw Loki standing by his window that was covered by a heavy, emerald green curtain. He didn’t face me. I saw his soft, raven black hair resting on his back and shoulders softly. It had grown a lot lately and it began to curl up at the ends. He was wearing his green cape with his black casual outfit with some pieces of his golden armour. Of course, his presence was majestic but I sensed that something was wrong. He tried to hide his feelings from me by not even looking into my eyes. Was he ashamed?

“Loki, are you alright?” I began with a stupid question because obviously, he wasn’t alright. By now, I felt like I had already pushed his buttons and I was jittery, but I wasn’t going to ignore him if he was hurting.

“It’s true, Y/N,” Loki told me with a low voice. It only raised even more questions. What in Valhalla was he talking about?

“What’s true?” I pushed him a little bit in ought for answers. Slowly but surely, I walked closer to him. As I did, I saw the side of his face. His cheeks were flushed, almost like he had been either yelling out of anger or even crying. He turned around and looked at me, revealing what I feared. His beautiful eyes, a mixture of green and blue, were glossy and full of broken veins. Something or someone had truly resented him. Seeing him like that hurt because I wanted him to be happy. Loki had gone through enough. I wanted to do everything in my power to wipe away those dried tears.

“Thor...he’s- our father is making him king,” Loki let me know what was upsetting him. The second I heard his brother’s name, I already knew. My heart sunk and I genuinely felt bad for Loki for numerous reasons. I couldn’t imagine how hopeless he felt right now and I understood very well why he hadn’t shown up earlier. Loki had fought ten times harder than Thor to prove his worthiness but Thor was still ahead of him - for reasons unknown!

“Oh, Loki-” I attempted to speak so I could comfort him, but he wasn’t in the mood for that quite yet.

All of a sudden, that sadness morphed into rage. “He doesn’t want to be king!” Loki yelled, probably loud enough for it to carry further than his chambers. It surprised me but I wasn’t startled. I expected him to let out all those bottled up emotions sooner or later and I was happy to be here for him. Once he had yelled, spat and hissed enough, he would need a shoulder to lean on. Sure, seeing him like this made my heart ache. I couldn’t understand why he was left in the shadows. Loki was a great prince, intelligent too. No one saw that.

“That buffoon only knows how to fight wars and other nonsense things. What does he truly know about ruling? Planning battles? He just sees the enemy and flies towards it, head first like a fool!” Loki continued complaining, his voice staying loud as he trashed his brother’s name. At the end of the day, Loki spoke the truth. No one could claim those statements to be lies, no one. Although Loki didn’t say it, I knew he was thinking about it. He probably thought people saw him as someone even worse. I wish I knew how to convince him and the people of his greatness.

“All my life, Odin had told me that one of us will be king. I don’t understand why he’d choose Thor, a warrior, not a king. Am I really that worthless to him? Does he truly not see that I am at least just as alright as the mighty son of Odin? Or am I actually the prince living in Thor’s shadow?” Loki pondered deeply and stopped yelling. His emotions began to surface more and he hurried to face away from me again. He didn’t want me to see his face when he struggled to keep it straight.

My heart hurt in my chest. How could I let Loki believe he was less great than Thor? It was so wrong that anyone would believe that but the sad truth was that Asgard did forget about the other Prince quite often. I could never. Words were spinning around my mind but I couldn’t find the right ones in the heat of the moment, so I closed the distance between us and put my hand on Loki’s shoulder gently, attracting his attention. He was breathing heavily and all his muscles were tense. He froze when I touched him but he didn’t push me away. After a while, he sighed and relaxed a little bit, allowing me to wrap my arms around his waist. Loki didn’t mind it when I hugged him and nuzzled my face against his chest so I could hear his untamed heartbeat. Soon enough, I felt his arms safely around me and he leaned against my body a little bit, seeking comfort. Holding him felt good but now I had to make him feel better, one way or another. I wanted to do that.

My hands drew simple patterns on his back, underneath his cape that was now around me too, thanks to him hugging me. It was a nice warm contrast against Loki’s cool body. “People don’t know just how great you truly are. It’s a shame, Loki. I wish I could enlighten them but sadly, the gullible, hot-headed fools tend to gain the attention of those who only look at the surface.”

“I wish our father could see us as equals, if no one else, at least him. It’s all I bargain for,” Loki whispered to me quietly. These words were familiar to me. During our long friendship, I had heard this so many times but now I heard the rawest emotions of it. Loki was heartbroken and no one could see that. I held him a little tighter. I noticed that Loki’s body was trembling slightly. He was trying to hold himself together so desperately but I could literally feel him crumbling in my arms. I didn’t wish to push him but I knew he had to experience and deal with these bags of pain.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ve ruined rehearsals and loathed in self-pity, I..I just-”

“Loki, don’t worry about. Hey-” I stopped so I could look at his face. He had a few silent tears on his cheeks which made him the opposite of the picture he put up of himself; he was vulnerable with me. “It’s alright,” I promised him. It’s like those two words were like music to his ears. He bit his lips together and had to sit down on a couch near his fireplace, dragging me with him. As I sat down comfortably, Loki just melted into me. He put his weary head on my lap and allowed me to play with his hair - which I had learned calmed him down. His arm was draped over my lap and his fingertips reached my ankles. Slowly but surely, I felt him relax. He stopped quivering and he breathed slowly, relaxing his muscles with each breath. We were surrounded by a comfortable silence which I assumed he needed right now.

“What have I done to deserve you, Y/N? Why do you stick with me even when I throw these tantrums? Even when you know how restricting my life can be,” Loki wondered. He had time to think of this and now he sought answers. Before I could answer, he sat up straight and really looked at me, as if he was studying me. I just smiled.

“Loki, you’re perfect just the way you are. I couldn’t ask for a better best friend,” I admitted to him. Yes, he was my best friend but I wanted more, so saying it was always slightly uneasy for me. It was a reminder that we were just that, friends, but we could be so much more. I always assumed that we had been friends for so long that any chances of us ending up together were already up in ashes. He needed me as a friend and if it made him happy, so be it.

Loki’s eyes narrowed. I could tell he wanted to say something but he was holding back. Then he let out a frustrated sigh.

“You believe in me when no one else does. Thank you for that, truly. I don’t know where I would be without you,” Loki admitted and finally cracked a smile that honestly lit up my world.

“That’s what friends are for, right?”

Loki chuckled now, hiding all traces from his meltdown. “More like partners in crime, I think,” he corrected me. Partners in crime, I loved that. It didn’t have the word friend which was a reminder of reality to me. Besides, partners in crime sounded much better.

“That’s more like it,” I chirped and playfully tapped his shoulder. Loki grabbed my wrist gently before I could pull it away and his touch sent shivers down my spine.

What was he doing?

He noticed what he did and let go, looking at my hand for a while as he seemingly fell into his thoughts again.

“Don’t you think partners sounds, well, rather astonishing?” Loki asked me out of the blue. It’s like someone turned on a switch on him and he got courage from somewhere. I didn’t want my mind to go to different realms but what else could he be hinting?

“What are you saying?”

Loki locked his eyes with mine and I swear to the gods in Valhalla his gaze was warm, inviting, loving. He still had flushed, rosy cheeks from earlier but now he smiled. He was so calm, like the calm after a storm. “Be mine, Y/N. You’re my rock, my best friend, my partner in crime. I know it might be wrong but when I look back to my good and bad days, I see you. I might be pushing it but I honestly think we could do this partnership, don’t you?”

My heart jumped to my throat and I could feel the heat on my cheeks radiating.

I studied Loki’s face and I genuinely couldn’t see a sign of regret. He meant every word he said. I don’t know what made him reveal that now but whatever it was, I was happy about it.

That’s when I nearly pinched myself to see if I was awake or asleep. Did Loki just say all that?

“Loki, are you for real?” I had to be sure, although I doubted he’d pull a trick this mean on me.

“Would I lie to you?” That was a very good point. As the god of mischief and lies, Loki did his best to be honest with me at all times. He even told me about his actor disguise when he started it because he went to the same theatre as me. “There’s no one else I can picture myself with through the hardest times and the good ones. I’ve liked you for a while now, I understand if this seems rushed-”

I couldn’t let him loathe in self-doubt anymore. The courage it took for him to say that must’ve been great and he was probably growing nervous. To convince him I was on the same page, I decided to let my actions speak louder than words. Loki saw it coming as I neared him. Gently, I grabbed his perfectly sculpted face and stopped as our noses brushed against one another’s. Loki drew in his breath and I felt how he touched my waist, carefully, as if I was a flower. Then we kissed which was something I felt we both had wanted for years. The moment our lips moulded together like liquid gold and magic, I forgot about the world around us. There was only me, him and the sparkling sensation pulsing throughout our bodies from the passionate, long-awaited kiss.

“We’re not supposed to be together, my love!” Azeyn,, the character Loki was playing, said right into my face with raw desperation and pain in his voice. We were on stage in front of a full theatre on opening night. Our play was reaching its peak and I could feel how everyone’s attention was on us. Even our co-actors’ gazes lingered on us either from on stage or backstage.

“But we’re meant to be! Can’t you see? They can try to pry us apart as much as they want but they can never separate our hearts!” I replied, mimicking the pain in his voice but I tried to sound hopeful. Our characters, Azeyn and Olivia, were in the middle of a war. The Asgardian soldiers, including Azeyn, were on Midgard to defend humanity from frost giants. Azeyn and Olivia met in battle because he had to save her from danger. Now the battle was frozen: the Midgardians, the Asgardians and the Jotuns were watching as the two were fighting for their love. The Asgardians didn’t want them to be together, the Midgardians were in shock and the Jotuns tried to cheer them on. It was up to our characters to mould their destiny, which could be happy and shortlived, or tragic without each other. Although we were acting, I had tears in my eyes. This play meant a lot to us.

“Time is our enemy. We can forget our people’s opinions but nevertheless, in a few decades, which is all eternity for you but only a moment for me, we will be separated!” Azeyn explained which made the play even more tragic.

I walked closer to him and grabbed his wrists, making him drop his sword. Our eyes locked. It reminded me of our kiss we shared a while ago, only Loki was in his disguise as a cute ginger warrior.

“Would you rather live your entire life without me or be happy during the time we have together? Each second we spend debating our future, we lose of the time we could enjoy, the time we should use for loving!”

Azeyn sighed and gave me a painful yet longing gaze.

This was it.

The moment that would make the play a tragedy

with a happy ending

“I know it’s against others’ wishes but I must put my own first. I’d choose a second with you over a decade without you. I love you, Olivia,” He revealed dramatically and proceeded to cup my face. I had fake blood on my cheek that transferred onto his palm and it spread as he touched me, which was intended to make this kiss dramatic, raw yet hopeful. We were bloody, tired and left alone but we still had each other.

Then we kissed. Little did the audience know the passion was real. Loki’s lips felt like heaven on mine and I knew it looked too good to be true. I heard cheering all around us. People were happy with the end result.

Our lips stayed together for a bit too long. As we parted, Loki looked at me. I knew it was time for us to turn around and bow and curtsy to the audience but for some reason, it felt impossible to look away from him. It’s like we had actually just experienced the things our characters did. Now we were just looking at each other, as if we had fallen into a trance, in front of thousands of Asgardians, even Loki’s family that were invited as guests.

“Oh, to hell with it,” Loki whispered so quietly that I only heard him.

“What?” I pardoned, confused by his behaviour. That’s when he did something I never could’ve foreseen. Loki lifted his magic, transforming into his true self. The ginger hair turned back to raven black, his skin got paler, his true features popped out again. He was completely, fully himself, in front of everyone. Loki just revealed his big secret and I was in shock. But damn, I was proud of him. He was himself for once and it was a big ‘screw you’ to the rules that had led him into a disguise in the first place. Now Asgard knew that their prince was a brilliant actor. If I wasn’t so shocked, I would’ve probably noticed the silence and few gasps from the people in the first row.

“I love you, Y/N,” Loki confessed to me and returned to my lips. My heart was racing in my chest and I could almost feel the adrenaline and dopamine in my system. It was almost overwhelming in all the good ways! Loki’s bold attitude was contagious and I didn’t hesitate as I kissed him back just as fiercely. Our true kiss made the audience erupt into a new fit of cheers. I could only picture Odin’s face now. If Loki’s lips wouldn’t have been so addictive, I would’ve turned to look, but I preferred to smooch him in front of the people to show that we were a thing.

Once we parted and people were applauding both the play and Loki’s big reveal, I smiled at him. “I love you too, Loki.”

“Let all of Asgard know that.”

Author’s Note: I obviously write fluff-ish stuff rarely but I tried! This was heavily inspired by Shakespeare and norse mythology. In this fic, I tried to bring forward a more vulnerable Loki, before Thor 1 when he was still kind of hopeful and a bit more innocent.

If you liked it, I would love to hear your feedback! Thank you <3

#Loki #Loki fanfiction #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Loki X Y/N #Loki imagine #Loki Odinson Imagine #Loki Laufeyson Imagine #Loki Laufeyson x Reader

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emotionally-imbruised · 5 years

Text

Friend Like Me

Just a little concept I thought up after seeing the new Aladdin and had to put out into the universe so I can stop thinking about it omg...

Despite the voices coming from outside of the lamp you’ve spent years inhabiting, you didn’t expect that it’d be because you were finally being summoned — but that’s exactly what was happening.

In a whirlwind of blue sparkly smoke, you were unable to prepare yourself before being dragged from the suffocating brass walls of your lamp and welcomed to the outside world. You inhaled a breath of fresh air instantly as you spun around, smiling widely as you took in your surroundings while continuing to float in the middle of the room. You weren’t in a cave, or a castle; you were in what seemed to be someone’s home... but one that was much smaller, cleaner, prettier and technologically advanced than you’d assume it to be.

“Huh, I’ve been in there longer than I thought,” you muttered as you cracked your stiff neck, stretching your tense arms out as well. The sun was beating down from outside, shining in through the multiple windows that scattered around the room — its light glistening off the shiny tile that covered the floor. Once you were done taking in what appeared to be a kitchen of some sort, your gaze moved to that of a man who stared back at you in complete and utter disbelief. “Oh, right. Hi there.”

“W-who, what are you?” The man stuttered between uneven breaths, as a laugh involuntarily left your mouth.

“You act like you’ve never seen a genie before.” You chuckled halfheartedly as a clink sounded from him setting down your lamp onto the nearby counter before slowly started backing away in fear, which caused you to frown while letting out a huff. “... you’ve never even heard of a genie before, have you?”

“Nope, can’t say I have.”

“Then why did you rub the magic lamp?”

“That thing?” He asked incredulously while pointing to your humble abode. “I-I didn’t mean to! It was just dirty, so I thought I’d clean it off before trying to figure out what to do with it. Wasn’t expecting you to just appear out of nowhere if m’being completely honest.”

You quickly moved towards your lamp, taking in the bit of shiny brass that showed through the rest of the dirty smudges surrounding it. The lamp was in much worse condition on the outside from what you remembered. It always had this mesmerizing glint to it, one that attracted those who seeked your assistance to the item; but now it was dirty, dingy and clearly not kept to its original beauty. With a small sigh, you slowly turned around to face the man again. “How did you find me?”

“I- I didn’t, that lamp was given to me in a box full of other old items like candle holders and other scrap metal. I didn’t need any of it so I was just going to give it away after I cleaned it all up.”

“Did you just call my home scrap metal?”

“I uh, no I-,” the way he stammered was rather amusing to you and the more he spoke, the more that deep British accent of his became rather endearing.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at how flustered he’d become, finding it amusing how he took everything you said so seriously. “I’m just messing with you. Hmm of all my masters, you’re the first to not actually know anything about what I can do... and the most timid? Look at you, you’re practically shaking.”

“Master? I’m sorry, what?” He responded with a shak of his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Ok, so here’s the whole lowdown on this genie thing.” You started, cracking your knuckles before getting the show on the road. Trails of blue smoke left your fingertips as you began showing him different things your magic can do, him not being to look away from any of it. “As a genie, it is my job to serve those who have summoned me.”

“But I didn’t summon you,” he stated while staring at the tiny magic fireworks that formed and were exploding over his head. “It was an accident.”

“Accident or not, you rubbed the lamp and poof! Here I am.” You explained, causing his gaze to fall to you once the fireworks disappeared. “For years people have been sent on missions for others, or taken quests of their own to find my lamp and use their wishes for personal gain. But you, you just fell across the opportunity.”

“Wishes?”

“Man, you really don’t know anything.” You groaned dramatically, hoping to get some type of reaction from him — but no, he just stared back at you with a stoic expression. “Yes, wishes. You get three of them. They can be for anything you want. Power, money, to get yourself out of a little predicament you’ve found yourself in... there’s a lot of opportunity with them. The only thing you can’t wish for though is unlimited wishes; three is enough, for someone to fall in love with you, or to bring someone back from the dead. That’s all there is to it.”

“But what if I don’t need or want the wishes?” He asked, causing you to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Pardon? Why wouldn’t you use your wishes?” Was this guy crazy?

He gestures to the space surrounding the two of you. “I- I have everything I could ever ask for in life. I’ve been very fortunate to be where I am and as much as I appreciate your offer Ms.-”

“Genie.”

“Your name is Genie?” He questioned unsurely as you shrugged.

“I guess that’s not my actual name, no, but that’s all any of my masters have ever called me. No one ever cares about me, they care about what I am and how it benefits them. Which is fine, I’m used to that. Why are you acting so different from that?”

“Because that sounds terrible,” he stated firmly. “You’re still a person- kind of. How many people have you helped?”

“I couldn’t even begin to tell you that,” you explained casually. “I’ve spent hundreds of years serving whoever came across my lamp. Some good, some the most vile humans to ever walk this earth. You’ve probably read about some of the people I’ve had to work for in your history books. Have you ever heard of William Shakespeare? Marie Curie? Steve Jobs?”

“Y-you helped all those people?” The shock on his face was evident as he processed this information and it made you chuckle.

“I did. Some others I’m not so proud of helping as well, but that’s the catch of having these powers... I don’t get to choose who I help. It is my duty to serve whoever rubs that lamp regardless of who they are or what their intentions consist of. Believe me, if I had the choice I wouldn’t be doing any of this.”

“Don’t get the choice,” he repeated softly. “You’re stuck doing this, forever?”

You shrugged in response because that is basically the truth behind it all. A silent pause followed after as you used your magic to get rid of the smoke that covered your lower body and replaced it with legs, so that you could stand on the ground and have a more humanly conversation with this man.

Before you were done, you looked at the eccentric button up shirt he wore with simple black trousers, and decided to create an outfit based off his casualness. Once your feet touched the ground, you were wearing a pair of ripped jeans and a slightly baggy grey t-shirt that had the words The Rolling Stones with a large mouth that had its tounge sticking out printed across it; something you assumed was popular in this current day and age. Fashion has changed since the last time you were in the outside world, and you weren’t quite sure how you felt about it.

You finally moved your gaze back to the man, having to look up at him and cursing yourself for not making yourself at least a little taller. You then gestured to the the two thick, shiny gold cuffs that resided on each of your wrists before continuing.

“These are the reason I do what I do,” you began. “They don’t come off, I’ve spent my entire existence trying to remove them but I can’t. So yes, because of that, I am stuck doing this forever.”

“What are they?”

“They’re what keeps me linked to the lamp and what gives me my powers.”

“I-,” he stuttered. “That hardly seems fair.”

Again, you shrugged. There wasn’t much you could do but grant this man his three wishes before having to return to your lamp and the sooner he realized that, the better. “Life isn’t fair, you’ll learn that eventually.”

A pregnant pause resumed after that as he brushed his ring clad hand through his brunette curls, and shift his weight from one foot to another. “This is all so crazy. Can’t I just, and don’t take this the wrong way, pass your help off to someone else? Someone who may actually need it?”

“There’s always that option, but I ask that you don’t.” He looked at you oddly and it was then you knew this was going to take some convincing. “My powers falling into the wrong hands could be disastrous. And there’s other options, there’s no time limit for when you have to use your wishes. Why don’t you keep me around? You never know when you may need a little wish.”

And I really don’t want to go back in that lamp yet, you thought to yourself as he pondered your words. “I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you think about it, yeah?”

He looked at you and it was as though you could see the gears turning in his brain as he considered this. After a moment he let out a defeated sigh and looked away. “Ok.”

A wave of excitement washed over you, but was soon cut off when he spoke again.

“For now at least. People are going to question who you are, where you came from and if it gets too suspicious for others... things could get really bad.”

“I’ll blend in, I promise.” You insisted. “Anything you want, I can do it.”

“Can we start with making sure that you’re not blue?” His question comes as a surprise to you, but then when you glance down at your appearance— you nod in understanding.

“Fair enough.” You use your powers to make your skin a neutral colour that would blend in with humans, rather than the blue that would blow your cover instantly. Once you’re done, you look back at the man and smirk. “Now that we’re doing this, do I get to know your name?”

“Uh uhm, it’s Harry. Harry Styles. And you are?”

“Genie.”

“That’s not your name,” he replied firmly, causing you to roll your eyes. Genie is all you’ve ever been called, but no, that isn’t your name. In fact, your actual name is engraved elegantly onto the base of the lamp — so you told it to him. He repeated it, and you felt something immediately flutter in the pit of your stomach. The way your name fell so smoothly from his mouth struck something inside of you and you knew right away that you were in trouble. “That’s a beautiful name.”

“Thank you.” Despite how difficult it was, you tried to hide the blush you felt burning across your cheeks as you awkwardly looked away. You wanted to look at anywhere but him, which he was quick in noticing. No more words were exchanged as you moved around the room to take in more of your new surroundings. He watched as you did this, but you kept your gaze from him; letting your mind wander to the thoughts of how this certain exchange between you and a master might be a bit more than you bargain for.

#Harry styles imagine

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typogoddess · 5 years

Text

It’s been a while since I've felt ANY motivation to do some art. But hey, it's a new year and maybe ill be able to do a projects start to finish. 🤣 But hey, it not gonna set ridiculous goals for myself. Lmao

∘ₒ✧──────✧ₒ∘

Nila had left Neil to go catch up with his duties while she went to search for Einara to ask more questions and hopefully receive more answers. It was difficult to spot the ancient mermaid though cause she was in her smaller form so she blended in among the colony, opposed to when she was her full size. She was just about ready to give up when a odd accent caught her ear. She followed it and found Meredith and Einara with a silverish mermaid. Einara seemed pleased to see the large mer.

”Einara..?” she said softly as she swam up to the trio of mermaids.

”Speak of the devil,” Einara said as the little mer swam up to them. ”This is Nila, the one I was speaking of that has some kind of evil within her. I helped to the best of my ability but this is something beyond my years” she says, the sorrow returning to her rough voice, making it appear smoother and warmer. ”I’ve felt..no witnessed, something this treacherous before, long ago. I fret to dare call upon the source if it.”

Muirgen stared down at the smaller mer, worry creasing her brow. “Greetings, Nila. I am Muirgen, Guardian of this Destroyer, an old friend of Einara’s.” She smiled as she said ‘old’, knowing they had no clue exactly how old she was. “I can feel a deep well of old, old evil within you. It must be removed, or you will suffer more than you have already. Would you suffer the indignity of sitting in my palm so I can better understand the nature of what afflicts you?”

After addressing Nila, Muirgen turned to Einara. “You have glamoured your size, but you also intend on remaining here far longer than I do. I will remain as myself, and continue on my way after this business is completed.”

Nila listened carefully as Muirgen spoke, she had to strain her ears to understand her accent. There was something about it that brought a sense of familiarity about her but she couldn’t quite place it. It gave her a headache when she dare try to remember. When asked to sit in the mermaid's palm she was hesitant but with a glance towards Einara, she took a breath and swam up to meet her hand. ”An old evil within me...?” she murmurs softly.

Einara removes the glamour as Nila takes a seat in Muirgen's hand. ”Something called me here, that's why I had left you in the kelp forest and strayed from our usual patrol. Something pulled me here, I would be so bold to say it's this young mermaid.” she says and curls herself around Muirgen, coiling a time and a half around her, to watch. ”There’s other auras around here that strain me cause they equate to what I feel from your energy, but the only other I know that equals you is Atalante and she never leaves our home. Do you feel them as well?”

As she questions Muirgen the glow of the sun dips beneath the surface and brings on a silver glow to announce the arrival of night and a full moon as well. ”Well isn't that convenient ” she chuckles

As she focused on the small mermaid sitting lightly in her palm, Muirgen bent her ears to Einara’s voice. “Yes, I feel them, as I said when I arrived,” she muttered absently. “The one presence, I do not know, but the other, you and I both know well, for varying reasons. He has returned to the oceans once more.” As the light from the surface of the water filtering down dimmed and silvered, the smallest amount of light began emanating from her, as if compensating for the loss of the sun. “The best time for magicks is moon-tide, and that is also when I am strongest. Let me see what I can see.” As she spoke, her eyes fluttered closed and she brushed a finger up Nila’s back, stopping between her shoulder blades. As the waters darkened, the glow of the moon seemed to envelop her, brightening the waters around the three of them.

Long minutes passed before Muirgen opened her eyes and turned an anguished gaze upon Einara. “Ara....it’s a blood curse.”

Nila shivered as she felt the cool touch of Muirgens finger slip up her spine before stopping. She felt as though an energy was being drawn out from her but also as though a war was raging within her. As Muirgen studied her Nila’s appearance flickers between her true and glamoured forms, her true peaks through the veil of her glamour.

Einara watched enchanted by what she was witnessing. She too glowed from the moon and her eyes glazed over ever so slightly now to appear completely black with a purple tinge. The bold hues of blue throughout her tail brightening as she felt the magick, good and bad emanating around them. It was a feeling she was all too familiar with and something she had thought was long forgotten.

”A blood curse..?” she whispered, unable to remove the tremor of her true fear in her voice. ”no...thats not possible...”

“Aye, a blood curse, Ara, and a strong one at that. You couldn’t affect it because the one who cast it is older than you.” Muirgen’s eyes flew open and focused purple flames on Nila. “Small one, may I ask you to prick your finger? Or somehow draw blood. I need to know that I’m wrong.” Glancing over her shoulder at Einara, she let the anxiety eating her insides show through her eyes for a moment before masking it again and turning back to Nila.

Nila looked between the two large mers and couldn't hide the growing fear that was building within her. She listened carefully as the two spoke to one another all while trying to regain control over her sporadic shifting. It took some time to stop, however, it didn't land on the appearance she masked herself with the majority of the time. She was in her true form, blue skin that rivalled the crystal colours of shallow waters and bright skies with sharp iridescent spikes clustered over her shoulders. Long talons for claws on her fingers, black as ink as if from a squid that reaches up to her forearm nearly to her elbow. Her eyes were bright red in contrast to the rest of her appearance and when she opened her mouth a double set of fangs we're visible. As the silver mermaid requested Nila lightly pricked her finger on a fang, looking up to meet the purple gaze upon her.

Meeting Muirgens gaze Einara whispered a single word that was shared between them. An energy flowed through the water and a dim white hue, glimmering with vibrant colours barely visible, emanated from Einara to enclose the three of them. There was an erethral calming sound within the bubble. Although her lips barely moved Einara sang a enchanting song, one she rarely ever used as it was like a locating beacon for the worst part of her life to hone in on her. But she was more concerned with leaching away the anxiety that was pooling up within Muirgen, never had she seen her fellow ancient so spooked and troubled. Someone so calm and strong to have been shak

Through their connection, Einara spoke to Muirgen within the privacy of their thoug

’Is it him?’

#art #digital art #illustration #2d #mermaid #mermaid art #drawing #story #inspiration #writing #reading

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clarinette07 · 5 years

Text

Dining Room Discussion

Entry for @idreamofplaid ‘s Bunker Challenge & also For my SPNDeanBingo - Falling in Love Square

Word Count: 3K

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Slight angst, unrequited love (or so they think), Fluffy Dean, Friends to Lovers, Angst with a happy ending

Also available on Wattpad and A03

Special thanks to @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog for being such a great friend and Beta! You are amazing!

"I'm going out! Do y'all need anything while I'm out?" Y/N hollered out from the garage doorway. Dean's ears perked up just a bit and immediately hollered back, "PIE!"

"Top of my list, Winchester," she says with a smirk. "See y'all in a bit!" With that, she left to town to get his pie, but most of all, some much-needed space away from the brothers. Especially a certain green-eyed hunter who seemed to taunt her day and night unknowingly. Dean Winchester was a man like no other - it was no wonder women seemed to fall all over him left and right, but the same could be said about little Sammy's good looks as well. No, it was the hunter's bravery, the brother's love, his fierce loyalty and strength in the face of danger that had captivated Y/N's heart. Therein lies her problem and reason for the need for space.

It was one thing to grow close as friends and hunting buddies, to bunker housemates, but when she felt her heart becoming more constricted whenever he found a leggy distraction for the evening or how it would flutter at the smallest gesture or compliment he would throw her way while undercover for a case, she knew things were changing from friendly to wanting something more. It wasn't that she thought he was a horrible person, on the contrary, she truly thought he was an amazing man. The problem was she knew Dean would never reciprocate the feelings that were brewing within her. So that is where these little "out of the blue" excursions came from. She needed to distance herself from him for just a little while when she could since doing so while on a case was impossible.

She really didn't have anywhere to go or really anything to buy, so often times she would just go to the local bakery, pick up Dean's pie and a hot cider than just sit and journal at the local park. It gave her some time to think and center herself, even though she must admit, most of the time was filtering through all the negative thoughts she had of herself. For the most part, Y/N thought highly of her abilities and skills when it came to hunting, and as far as looks go, she thought she was pretty enough, but nowhere near the level of beauty she saw in the female companions the boys would often gravitate toward.

Usually, it would be about a 45 minute to an hour that she would take to herself then she could go back to face the boys in close proximity again. Today was no different, however, it was the fourth Friday in a row that Y/N had taken off before Dean could even think of inviting her out with them for drinks at the bar. Really, she should have known he would realize sooner rather than later that something was up. He always was so much more than a pretty face or the brawn of the operation.

Dean's POV

As I heard the bunker door close, I couldn't help but wonder why Y/N seemed to be avoiding us. This was at least a month now of her running off for this or that, but I couldn't really complain because she always brought me my pie (unlike my so-called brother who always seems to forget it).

"Hey, Sammy! Do you know where Y/N keeps going? I know we don't need any supplies, so what could she be getting?" I couldn't help but wonder what was going on because over the last month and a half I've noticed Y/N start to slowly distance herself from us - Me in particular - and I can't help but wonder what it is I did to make her feel so uncomfortable around me that she always feels the need to run off?

"I'm not sure, Dean, but I wouldn't worry about it. I'm sure Y/N would tell us if something was going on. Sometimes she just needs her space."

"Yeah, yeah, maybe you're right... I'll see you later. I'm going to my room until she gets back with my pie."

I went to my room, but my thoughts would not stop going over any and almost every scenario I could think about of what she could be doing and why. The one thing that still did not sit well was how we seem to have grown apart and though I would never tell Sammy this, I miss the closeness Y/N and I used to have. Now she seems to go to Sammy for help more than me. She barely even looks me in the eye anymore... Maybe I did something?

While I'm rambling on in my head about this or that reason, I hear the bunker door close and I know she's home! I can run and ask her if everything is alright and I hope she doesn't just say everything's fine because I know something's up! As I get closer to the kitchen, I hear Sammy in hushed tones saying "Y/N, you can't avoid him forever, you gotta tell him how you feel..." I couldn't listen anymore. I hurried back the way I came, back to my room before anyone knew I was there. I couldn't believe it was ME she was avoiding after all! I don't know what I did, but I know I will make this right! Starting by making her most favorite fancy meal then I'll get her to talk to me. I have to know what I did - I want my Y/N back.

Next day

Y/N's POV

I knew Samuel Winchester was too smart for his own good. He saw right through my scheme to avoid more heartache, but honestly, I did not feel like I had an alternative option. I couldn't risk Dean taking the knowledge that I was growing deeper feelings for him and things will never be the same. I just put those feelings aside for now. I would try and face him tomorrow, but for now, I wanted to sleep.

The next morning, I woke to only Sam in the kitchen with a note next to him that Dean left saying he was making dinner for us tonight and to make sure to be ready by 7 pm to eat. Dinner isn't usually at a specific time, so this was a little odd, but who knows! Maybe it's to make sure he is able to still hit the bars afterwards? At least I could fake being too tired or too full to go with him. His food IS always delicious, so that would not be too much of a stretch.

It didn't matter, I decided to stay in my room and catch up on laundry and cleaning until dinner time came. About 6:30 pm, I decided to head to the kitchen to see if Dean wanted help with anything and saw that the dining room was set for two with candles and everything! Oh no! Did he plan a last minute date with some bimbo??? Did he seriously forget about promising to make us all dinner? I thought to myself. My thoughts were cut short by the sound of Dean cursing in the kitchen and a tray falling with a crash to the floor with a loud clatter. I ran as fast as I could to see what happened only to see Dean standing at the sink running cold water on his hand and a tray of my favorite food in disarray half on the tray and half scattered on the floor. In my confused state, all I can say is, "What the hell???"

Dean's POV

"What the Hell???" I hear Y/N from behind me. In my flustered panic, I accidentally grabbed the tray with Y/N's favorite food and forgot I just took it out of a 400-degree oven! Smart Dean! Real smooth! NOW her dinner is ruined and I screwed up the surprise!

"Y/N! You weren't supposed to be here for another 30 minutes!" Please let me be able to salvage this night, please Chuck, Please.

Y/N's POV

"What???" Yeah, real eloquent there, Y/N! Good job! "Wait? That fancy dinner spread is for me???" Am I dreaming? Did I get caught by a Djinn???

"Yeah! Didn't you get my note?" Dean asked, eyebrows furrowed with a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"I got the note, but when I saw the table set for two, I thought you forgot."

Dean looks wide eyes and a little surprised at the statement. "I would never forget a night with you. Look! I even tried to make your favorite food! At least half of it is eatable" he says with a shoulder shrug and a cheeky grin.

Y/N could barely contain the emotions bubbling up inside her. Her eyes started to fill with tears, but she knew she had to keep her emotions in check. Dean was just being nice - ridiculously sweet and cute and just nice. Nothing more.

"Please don't cry, Sweetheart," Dean said as he came closer and engulfed Y/N in his warm embrace. Not helping, Y/N thought to herself, but she couldn't bring herself to pull away either. "What is all this for, Dean?" She finally asked. Did I miss a special occasion or something? She thought to herself.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Dean looked away shyly and said, "I know you're upset with me, but I couldn't bear another night of you away and running off for hours at a time. I know it sounds strange and you only see me as a friend, but I had to try and make it right whatever it was because There ain't no me if there ain't no you. So, can we sit and try and talk out whatever has come between us? Please?"

I was stunned! THE Dean Winchester is pleading with ME?!? I really must have hit my head hard! Before I knew what was happening, Dean grabbed my hand and gently led me to the beautifully decorated dining room. Like I mentioned before, in passing I saw the two place settings, but what I missed was that the table cloth was my favorite color, the plates were the GOOD China, not just cheap take out containers or bags of wrapped burgers. He even got my favorite fruity drink that I always tried to hide I liked! Now I KNOW this has to be a Djinn! I reach for the dinner knife and stick my hand out to keep Dean back, but he is too quick and too strong and with a gasping leap he gets the knife away from me.

"What the Hell, Y/N??? What are you doing?" He asked with fear and disbelief in his eyes.

"There is no way my Real Dean would do this for me. You're a Djinn Dean! There is no way this is real!" Y/N is so close to a breakdown, she can barely keep it together. Her eyes are filling with tears but her voice is trying to sound strong and confident. With those words though, Dean breaks and allows his head to fall and shakes it in sad disbelief. The woman he loves doesn't believe he loves her enough to do this for her. How much did he mess up their friendship? He thought they were closer than this, but maybe there is hope after all if this is what she thinks is a dream version of a happy life for her?

"Y/N, Sweetheart, this isn't a Djinn world and you are not dreaming after being knocked out. This is REAL! Sit with me and eat some of those nasty (favorite food) and you'll see!'

With some trepidation, Y/N gave it a shot and sat at the dinner table in the rarely used dining room set for two in the Bunker and listened to Dean walk her through the escapade that was dinner. She had to admit, with so many blunders, there was no way this could be a Djinn world and never in a million years could she imagine a night like this with Dean. which brings her back to his explanation as to why he did this in the first place. All at once, his words come rushing to her mind.

"Dean, Why did you think I was upset with you?" She softly asks as she reaches out to grasp his hand to get his attention. Stunned, Dean is taken off guard by her question. With a quick clearing of his throat, he begins to answer her question.

"Well, you have stopped going with me to bars after out hunts and you just seem to never want to be around me anymore. Then I heard you talking with Sam and when he said "you can't avoid him forever", I knew then that I did something, but I have no clue what. That's why I wanted to make you a peace offering to hope to make up for whatever I did."

Panic! That was all that was happening in Y/N's mind at the words "I heard you talking with Sam." But, he must not have heard it all if he thinks that I am avoiding him just because I'm upset? Y/N thinks to herself. "Was that all you heard? You didn't hear anything else?" She asks just above a whisper out of fear of the answer. Please, Please, PLEASE let that be all that he heard.....

With a puzzled look and a nod of confirmation, Y/N released the breath she didn't realize she was holding. "Good, that's good, um, well, I guess it's only fair since you opened up to me, I should be open and honest with you, too." With one last big sigh of breath, Y/N closed her eyes and said a silent prayer that this would not blow up in her face. "Dean, promise me, no matter what, you won't kick me out?" She looks at him expectantly, waiting for his response and with his quick response of "Of course!" while reaching out to hold her hand in his, he gives a slight squeeze as an encouragement to continue.

"#1, I could never be upset at you, at least not for long," she says with a small chuckle, "That couldn't be farther from the truth. Hurt maybe, but not upset or mad."She said with a faraway look in her eyes.

Hurt? Why would she be hurt? Dean thought as she continued her confession around the dining room table.

Letting out a deep breath, she continued "And really, you haven't done anything wrong! You're a man, you have needs, we ALL do! So, who am I to get jealous of a one night stand? You're much too important to me for me to let those emotions get the better of me and our friendship. This night has been so wonderful, even with the Djinn scare," she says with a light-hearted chuckle, "but it just reminds me of something I can never have as a hunter. It's why I go off on my own in the first place. So I don't get lost in the 'What If's' of the possible Apple Pie life I couldn't have a taste of."

Dean's POV While Y/N was rambling on and on, something she tends to do when she's nervous, I couldn't help how my hope rose as she continued. Maybe I DO have a chance to get my girl!

"You can't hunt with someone who has their head in the clouds. You need someone focused and on their A game. I can't do that if I'm constantly dealing with the battle going on in my mind, too."

Knowing now that she's not mad, just hurt and jealous of me going out to try and get her off my mind too, I took a leap of faith and hoped it wouldn't blow up in my face. I lunged forward from my chair, grasped both of her hands in mine and her breath caught in her throat as our eyes locked for the first time since she started rambling. Taking a steadying breath, I spoke the words I had been afraid to share with her or anyone about my feelings for her.

"Sweetheart, you gotta take a breath for me and listen when I tell you, I'm so sorry I ever made you jealous and hurt you by going off with other girls. You are the LAST person on Earth I would want to hurt. I wasn't blowing smoke when I said 'there ain't no me if there ain't no you'. I don't know what I would do without you in my life, Kid. I - I care so much about you it kills me when you're not around. Y/N, you know I'm not the best with words and feelings, but I think I've crossed a line somewhere in our friendship and I fell in love with my best friend. I hope this doesn't make you pull farther away from me, I don't think I could take that."

Y/N's POV

Sparks erupted from the moment Dean's hands touched mine. I was lost in those beautiful green eyes and then he told me to breathe and it was like the world stopped. As I listened to all he had to say with bated breath, I felt my heart skip a beat when I heard the words I've longed to hear from him. He loves me!!! The Great Dean Winchester LOVES little ole me! I couldn't believe it, my wildest hopes and dreams actually came true! But wait? Why is he just staring at me? CRAP!!! I zoned out! ANSWER HIM, DUMMY!!!!

"Dean, I couldn't bear that either. I couldn't imagine life without you close because I love you, too." Said just above a whisper, too choked up to speak louder. Y/N's eyes welled with happy tears as Dean's face broke out into a genuine smile she hadn't seen for a long time. And from that moment on, they vowed to never again be without one another. <3

#plaidsbunkerchallenge #spndeanbingo #spnfanficpond

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