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marsbutterfly · 3 years ago

Note

Hey ! How are you ? Can I request an imagine for Hanji x f!reader where they both get reincarnated in modern time ? They both died side by side during the rubbling and when they get reincarnated they both have memories of their past life (they were already lovers). Reader thought she was never going to see her girlfriend again but one day she finds her by chance.

Take care and have a nice day !

Note: Thank you so much for requesting this. I had fun writing it and the prompt was *chefs kiss* so I really hope you like it.

In Another Life

Summary: Reincarnation is the doctrine or belief that the soul reappears after death in another and different bodily form.

Wattpad Version! | AO3 Version! |◁ II ▷|

Cold sweat drips down your face as you bolt awake, digging your nails into the bedsheets. The same nightmare has been waking you up in the middle of the night since you were a child.

In your dream, you are a soldier who battles to save humanity in the fight against titans. Somehow, you always manage to kill the gigantic beings and return safely to the world inside the walls.

Always by your side is a brown-haired woman with glasses, her left eye is missing in most of the dreams. In all honesty, you have never seen anyone so beautiful before and, somehow, you remember her name.

Hanji Zoe.

One day, you stood by her side as the world you’ve once known was being left behind, turned into dust. She held your face in her hands as tears streamed down her cheeks, the feeling of her lips against yours is vivid and you can even smell the apple she had earlier.

The scream of your comrades echoes through the plane and into your brain but all you can focus on is the image of Hanji’s body catching on fire as the same flames burn down your back.

She hits the ground seconds before you do and somehow you manage to land by her side, hand touching hand as her lifeless body begins to cool down. You don’t have much time to think before a titan’s massive foot squishes your bodies at the exact same time.

That’s usually when you wake up, when your lungs and heart explode inside your chest due to the pressure of the step. When every blood vessel in your body gives in to the pressure and bursts inside you.

You grab your phone, only to realize your alarm was about to go off anyway. So instead of trying to go back to sleep, you simply push the covers aside and begin to drag yourself to the bathroom in hopes of getting your day started.

Not every dream you have is a nightmare. Some of them are about a life you don’t remember living: The combination of joy and fear after joining the Survey Corps, the warmth of Hanji’s naked body against yours, the delicious smell of freshly made apple pie coming from the kitchen in the middle of the night.

At nights where you don’t dream about that life, you miss it. You miss being around your friends, being able to move around the trees as if you were flying, you miss her. Her deep, brown eyes are all you can think about and time slips away from you.

Once your morning routine is completed, you decide to go for a run in the park behind your house. Since the sun has been out for less than an hour, it shouldn’t be too busy and you’ll be able to enjoy some quiet time.

As the armband slides up your skin, a chilling sensation travels down your spine and nearly every particle of hair in your body rises, even though you can’t understand why. So you simply shake your head and push the feeling down.

Carefully, you select your favorite playlist and check to make sure your laces are tied but before you can actually look, your phone rings loudly in your ear nearly giving you a heart attack.

Without a second thought, you decline the call without even checking to see who it is and you make your way outside.

The cold breeze welcomes you and the sweet smell of the food cart in front of your house hits your nose. Usually after a run, you reward yourself with one of their delicious crepes and that is enough motivation for you to finish your jog.

At this time, the park is the most peaceful place in the city. No crying babies in their strollers or loud business men walking around on their phone, there is only you and maybe three more people.

Your favorite song comes on and you feel the energy pumping through your veins with every beat. It’s the perfect weather for a run and you silently enjoy the calm that washes over your body.

Your mind wanders back to your nightmares and you start to remember the better part of it. The times Hanji would take you to a secret picnic after she became commander or the makeout sessions in the janitors closet.

In some ways, you could even feel her warm skin against yours, her kiss-swollen lips attached to you by a string of saliva. It nearly feels as if you had lived throughout all of it, but it couldn’t be possible.

You’re so deep into your thoughts that you don’t notice the stick on the floor and, when you do, it’s too late and you’re already halfway towards the ground so all you can do is protect your face from the concrete.

The impact itself isn’t too painful but the humiliation is what stings the most. If only you hadn’t gotten that call before leaving your house, you would’ve remembered to tie your shoelaces and therefore they wouldn’t have gotten stuck on the stick on the floor.

This isn’t the first time the woman in your dreams has caused you trouble. In a few of your memories, she would make too much noise when you sneak out and the Commander would eventually catch you.

Ever since you were young and these dreams first started, you’ve been going to a therapist after the other in hopes of understanding what all of this means and why is it happening to you but all came to the same result: inconclusive.

No matter how many doctors you see, no one can understand why you have such vivid dreams about a war nobody has ever heard anything about or creatures that have never once been proven to exist.

With your ass on the ground, you notice you used the word “memories” instead of dreams and for a second you feel as if all air has been sucked out of your lungs by a massive vacuum.

You shake your head, pushing those feelings deep down inside of you and getting on your knee, preparing to tie your laces when a familiar perfume rushes by you.

It’s faint and quick, probably carried by the wind but enough for you to snap your head backwards. A comforting feeling settles in your chest, warm and fuzzy if you could describe it. That’s exactly how the woman from your dreams smelled like.

You notice a brunette in a bright yellow sports bra turning around a bush not too far away, but you can’t see if she’s wearing glasses or if she only has one eye, like Hanji did.

“Y/N don’t be ridiculous!” You say to yourself, standing up and brushing away the dirt from your clothes, “Hanji is not a real person, she’s like an imaginary friend.”

Forgetting all about your fall, you decide to resume your run. The pain in your foot forces you to go a bit slower than you are used to but nothing too serious.

Once you are done running your laps around the park and begin to make your way back home, a few drops of rain begin to fall on your skin, forcing you to rush home.

As you are eagerly awaiting for the crepe you’ve been dreaming about for hours, the owner of the small cart has a sad expression on his face.

“I’m fresh out of batter. My husband just went to grab some more, it should take a little longer than 45 minutes, I am so sorry Y/N.” He says and you sigh, a compassionate smile on your lips and you nod.

“You will save me the first one you make when he’s back right?” You ask and the man eagerly nods.

“Of course. With banana, strawberry and chocolate, right?”

And you laugh, knowing that the only reason why he knows your order so well is because his crepes have been your breakfast each morning since you first moved into this apartment.

Once you are done with the conversation, you rush up the stairs and immediately into the shower. With a washcloth you gently brush the dirt out of your bruised knee, quietly hissing as the burning sensation takes over.

Even though you know you aren’t supposed to do so, you pour hydrogen peroxide on top of the wound and a scream leaves your throat at every step of the way.

“Today really isn’t my day.” You say to yourself as you begin to wash your hair. A few specs of dirt fall to the ground and a prolonged sigh escapes your lips. Everything just seems to be going wrong: rain, no crepe, fell during a run, what’s next? Waiting in line at the coffee shop for over an hour?

As you stand in line, you realize you should have kept your mouth shut. Even though you ordered online, the amount of people surrounding the pick up area was beyond ridiculous and you were definitely getting late for work.

Once your turn finally comes, you thank silently in hopes that you will be able to actually make it in time. So with your chest out and happiness on your face, you loudly say over the many other voices, “Order for Y/N!”

The guy behind the counter looks confused as he checks every cup individually and you watch over him as he does so. He shoots you a sadden and a little annoyed look and you realize that the “Order” button never got pushed.

Your eyes fill with tears of frustration but you brush them away and take your phone out, repeating your online order to the barista on the register and they write it down perfectly.

Your eyes are glued to your phone’s screen while you wait for a message from your boss but the same comforting sensation you felt this morning is back again. Maybe it’s the smell of coffee that reminded you of the trips to Marley or the crowds of different people around, much like eldians and marleyans.

“I have to get this shit out of my brain.” You say, shaking your head and focusing on typing out a message to your friend, complaining and hoping that you won’t get fired today. You worked too hard to get this job and if they let you go over some 20 minute wait, you’ll raise hell on Earth.

“Order for Y/N?” A familiar voice says but you can’t identify from where.

So you walk to the counter, finally putting your phone away and counting the coffees. Your eyes land on the barista’s hand, who carries your regular order. You reach for it and in a split of a second, your hands touch.

The world around you seems to stop and so does your breathing. When you look at her, you realize she is the part of you that has been missing all along. She’s a real person and not a dream. You look at her nametag, just making sure you aren’t going insane and there it is. “Hanji Zoe”

In that minimal touch, you are bombarded by the emotions of a lifetime ago. The first day you met, the first titan experiment you had done together, the first kiss, the first time you’ve had to kill a titan because she would always get too damn close to being eaten alive.

But you are also reminded of the last meal you both ate, the last nose rub, the last time her lips touched yours, the last hand holding, the last breath you both took before you woke up where you are now.

And just like that, feelings you didn’t know were possible for you to have emerged from deep within your chest as if a box that has been sitting deep inside the closet has now just been opened. It even seems like the world has just gotten a bit more colorful.

Tears shine in your eyes as the coffee you just waited so long for hits the ground. With a smile on your face, you wrap your arms around her neck and pull her over the counter. It doesn’t take her more than a second to seal your lips together.

Her breath tastes like the hot chocolate she had earlier that day but it still manages to awaken butterflies that laid dormant in your stomach throughout your entire life. It’s not until your phone rings in your pocket that you are brought back to reality.

“I’m so late for work!” You smile at her and rush out of the store, the container with the other cups in your left hand.

“Wait!!” A voice screams from just outside the coffee shop and you immediately turn around to see Hanji, her hat in her hand as she comes closer to you. “I knew something was missing my entire life and….”

“And now I realize it was you.” You two say in perfect unison and she nods.

“Why don’t we start over? This time, without any titans around.” She asks and you smile.

“Hey, I’m Y/N.” You say, extending your hand.

“I’m Hanji Zoe and I would love to take you on a date sometime.” Hanji meets you in the middle, shaking your hand.

“I really have to go.” You say and a frown appears on her face, you have to fight the will to quit your job and start a nice, little life in the woods with her. Something you’ve always talked about but sadly never got to have.

“I’ll wait for you right here then.” She says, letting go of your hand slowly and you immediately touch the back of her head and bring her in for a long kiss while still managing to keep the cups in your hand still.

This time it was not a goodbye kiss. It was simply the second first kiss you’ve ever had with Hanji and hopefully, it will not be the last.

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joyfulsongbird · 3 years ago

Text

i would come for you

the six of crows kanej fic that I wrote a long time ago and don't remember coming up with or writing at all!! but it's where Inej actually gets one of her legs broken when she's kidnapped at the beginning of crooked kingdom and ALLLL of the angst that follows when kaz gets her back. the aftermath... it's about the Angst(TM) ok??? enjoy!

(literally pls ignore any typos I am not rereading this before posting it LMAO)

ao3 link if that's what you prefer!!!

INEJ

Inej knew pain well. It was something she was intimately familiar with, a long time friend.

She had found comfort at times, in a world where cold numbness was a few steps too close to death, a sharp pain was a welcome reminder of life. She’d never desired it, of course not, but there was something oddly soothing about waking and realizing that you were wholly alive. She could push through almost anything, if she pushed herself far enough, if she distanced herself from the pain enough. It was a skillset she had mastered long ago and it had served her well in this new life she had carved. She knew pain, as her scars could attest to, as her wariness could speak to, but this was different.

This was not the welcome type of pain.

She was alive. She knew that for sure. But pain usually was not usually accompanied by this deep and penetrating sorrow.

She laid on her back in this same dark room, minutes blurring into hours as she fought the urge to scream; to cry, to do something, anything. The pain in her leg was all consuming, and the knowledge that her future was destroyed did not help. It was just the one- just her right- that had been damaged. She tried to push the memories from hours earlier out of her mind, already the fear was dulling the edges of this memory. The way the terror caused it to fade in and out of her mind was the only welcome factor at the moment. All she knew at the moment was terror and pain. Through these two things, she tried to think. But she had already exhausted herself of any sort of plan. How was she supposed to escape with a bad leg? The answer was that she could not. Van Eck had said he was being merciful. Merciful. She’d wanted to tear his tongue right out of his mouth as he had said that. The other one tomorrow then, he had said, when it was done. She wasn’t quite ashamed, but she was close. Her voice had been so weak sounding, she wished more than much that she could have taken it, could have gone through that ordeal with tight lips and a steely expression. In the end, she was just a girl. A girl who had everything already taken from her and was somehow losing more.

So she simply laid on her back in the dark, praying to all of her Saints that… well, she didn’t know. What could she even pray for anymore? For Kaz to come for her? If he did at all- which she highly doubted- when he saw her state, wasn’t it more likely he would turn on his heel rather than risk anything for a broken spider? And what else was there to do but hope that something changed? She could lie here and hope she died in the dark but no, she didn’t truly want that. She wanted to escape the pain but not like that. There was so much she had left to do, and even if her foundation was crumbling beneath her, she still had her mind. She still had her voice. It was all she could ask for, maybe she should lower that expectation as well… nevertheless, she still had a few more fights left in her. Even if it didn’t feel like it, she still had life left to live.

The next night came. She prepared herself for the worst, for a repetition of the night before, for death itself. But no. Kaz was coming. Kaz for coming for her.

She laughed. She did not know why. If she was asked, it would be impossible to discern the reason. Maybe it was because she was drunk on pain, on her terror. Maybe it was because she knew Kaz would have no use for her after he found out she was damaged beyond repair. She was not finding humor in anything, but she laughed anyways. This was the nightmare of nightmares, and she was never going to wake up.

Noon tomorrow.

She counted the hours, the minutes, the seconds. Again, the reason she did not know. It only drew out her agony. But she wanted to see them again, wanted to see him again, even if she never did after. Perhaps she wouldn’t be blind folded at the bridge, what was she going to do? Run? They had already done what she didn’t dare fear would happen to her, she could not run, she could not slip away from them like she might have a few days ago. Things were different now and all she wanted was to see Kaz, to have one last image of him in her mind that she could hold onto. And perhaps it would be cold, it would be cruel as he often was, but she didn’t care. That would be enough for now. That would be enough of a goodbye; the closure that she desired. She was no longer an investment with anything to back it, she wasn’t worth anything anymore. Per Haskell would throw her out, Kaz would turn his back on her, and she would be alone again. In debt and desperate, again.

She closed her eyes against the dark, tightly. She was determined not to cry, not to show any more weakness than she already had. So when Van Eck’s men came again (a little earlier than noon she assumed), she steeled herself. Two men held her tightly between them, making it so that she was slightly elevated. She did not want to be carried, at least this gave her some false sense of autonomy.

“Shackle her arms.” Van Eck was turned away from her. She nearly spat at his feet right then.

“Sir, I don’t think-” one of the guards holding her began. She did not recognize him.

“Just do it.” Van Eck snapped. “Today will not be the day I underestimate one of Brekkers.”

She almost smiled then. At least she still brought him a little worry, at least she still held some power. Inej held onto that feeling as she was moved, shoved around and into the back of some carriage. The pain was the most intense she’d ever felt, the bones in her ankle and calf were ruined. Van Eck had been very deliberate in what he had wanted done to her. Make it so that she could not scale walls anymore, make it so that it caused her pain with every step. He had not cared about her excuses about Kaz after hours of thought.

“He will come,” he had said while leaning over her. “I know he will. And I think you know he will, too.”

She hadn’t, not truly. But when she’d heard that he was coming, that he was there, something in her twinged with relief. Perhaps it was selfish, to want to be saved when she had no use for him anymore, but she found herself being relieved that she was wrong. Who could blame her? She was preparing for the worst in every single scenario, and Kaz not turning up really wasn’t very high on the list of “worst things”. It was a lot closer to reality, and it hurt to acknowledge that, but at least it had been something she was mentally prepared for. This hope she felt fluttering in her chest was a little too powerful for this darkness she was shrouded in, she wanted to let it go. Let it fly away so that she wouldn’t be crushed by disappointment when another terrible thing inevitably came around, but she couldn’t seem to lessen her hold on it.

She was a little too relieved when they did not blindfold her, instead pulled a hood over her head, concealing her face in a shadow. She kept her chin down, forced there by the two guards holding her. No one would be able to see her face but she knew that the rest of the Dregs would easily be able to pull her out of the small crowd they had. She didn’t exactly blend in, the small, black clad girl being held as tightly as a death row prisoner. She kept trying to glance up but couldn’t make anything out, she saw a few pairs of shoes in front of her, but the moment she tried to lift her head, one of the guards jostled her. Causing pain to go up her leg, she put her head back down. She could faintly make out the sound of voices, muffled by the distance and her own pounding head. She was being hit by all of the human necessities she had been neglecting, her hunger gnawed at her stomach, her throat was so dry, and the pain amplified every single movement.

She hadn’t been ready when they dropped her to her feet, her weight dropping onto her injured leg the same way it wouldn’t any other day where she was not injured. It was horrifying, the way she crumbled. She dropped to her knees, which only caused the pain to worsen. She burned, everything burned; with humiliation, with sorrow, with pain. The Wraith didn’t fall, and when she did, she got right back up. She rolled with the motion, she lifted herself even when it seemed like there was no way to get up. But she wasn’t The Wraith anymore, she couldn’t be. It had been stripped from her the same way her identity had been stripped from her at the Menagerie. She was just a Suli girl, on her knees, struggling to her feet once again.

The silence was only interrupted by the soft swishing of water underneath the bridge, she bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. No one moved, she didn’t even seem to breath, as she pushed herself to stand. This was her lowest, she knew. This was not how she wanted to meet Kaz’s eye, as she lifted her head, hood falling back. Her hands were shackled in the front, knives tucked into her jacket, but her legs were free. She wasn’t sure why, maybe to make her walk. Maybe Van Eck had only insisted on her arms so that everybody would watch her struggle to do the barest of tasks. It was humiliating and she felt her face burn along with every other part of her, but she kept her expression steely.

Kaz was looking at her, his expression also hard and concealing something underneath that she couldn’t discern. She wanted to be able to lift whatever veil separated them, hear his thoughts word for word. That was an impossibility, she knew, but it didn’t stop her from yearning to know what was going through his head at that very moment. Each step was an agony, flames licking at her chest, behind her eyes. But she forced herself to walk that 20-or-so feet to where Kaz stood, her injury was the most obvious thing about her at the moment. It was easy to act as if it was better than it actually was, though, she could pretend that she just had a simple limp. That she had sprained her ankle and it would heal within the weak. Inej was good at that, she would not show the world this kind of shame. That would come indoors, in the dark, when no one could see that she was broken. That would come later.

“Your knives?” was the first thing out of Kaz’s mouth. She was unsurprised.

“They’re packed inside my coat.” she replied, forcing the tremble to stay out of her voice. He cut the bonds that kept her arms in front of her, she rubbed her wrists absently, keeping all of her weight on her left leg. She caught Kaz’s look down at her right, trying to figure out what was off with it. He still had that cold expression on, she couldn’t possibly try to read it. Whatever plan he had had, it was screwed up now. She was dead weight, a factor which he hadn’t prepared for. She didn’t know what came next but she knew exactly what train of thought must be going through his head. What was he supposed to do with her?

Her vision was swimming, the pain in her leg was growing with every moment, she didn’t know how much longer she could hold on for. But she wouldn’t pass out now, not when she was so close to freedom. Or what she could reasonably call freedom at the moment. She would do what she had to do, doom herself to even worse than she already was, if it meant they all got out of there safely and in one piece.

And then, chaos erupted.

Everything whirled around her, she was vaguely aware of being moved again (the agony wasn’t easy to ignore) but the swirling of color and sounds of voices were overwhelming. Her senses were all over the place but she felt herself being slightly lifted and moved not so gently towards the wall that separated them and the water below. She heard Kaz’s gruff voice say something in her ear but she didn’t catch it. Then she was going over the ledge of the bridge, oh Saints what’s going on? But she wasn’t falling, she stayed suspended in midair for a moment. She looked up. Kaz was holding onto both of her wrists, his gloved fingers curled tightly so that she would not fall. She met his eyes, there was a message that she could understand. At least that was something. She glanced down, and below her was a flower boat, rowing down the river. She looked back up and gave Kaz a single, resolute nod. His expression was a little different now, as if he understood that dropping her from this height would cause her indescribable pain. Not quite apologetic but there was something like it there. This was something that she would have been able to do with ease a week ago, but now, she breathed in deeply through her nose and let go of Kaz before he could do the same for her.

She was the Wraith, she had to be, even just for one more single moment. The drop was quick, her heart dropped into her stomach, and before she knew it, she was hitting the boat. It was a small boat, and she didn’t have as much space to make her landing work the way she would’ve liked, but at least her muscle memory was still intact. She covered her head, tried to spread the impact as much as she could without spilling over the side of the boat.

She did not feel strong. She was broken, there was nothing more she could do but lie there. She had failed in every regard, she had lost her purpose, she had lost her title, her identity. And now, she would lose Kaz, she would lose the Dregs, and she would lose the dream of hunting slavers someday. Cruelest of cruelties.

Her vision faded in and out, she was not in her body. She was slipping into the dark, as she had done often before, a welcome comfort. She was disappearing into the shadows where the pain would be dulled and she would be soothed by the coolness of being all by her lonesome. And when she woke- she did not want to think about what would happen when she woke. Maybe for once she could move in the now, in the moment, instead of thinking of every step that was to come. Every jump she had to make, anticipating everything before it happened. She could simply settle and rest. Saints, she really wanted to rest.

She could not escape her demons however.

“Inej.” Kaz’s voice was enough to cause her to open her eyes slightly, everything slightly blurry. “Inej, you have to stay with me.”

Her mouth tasted like metal, she couldn’t form any words. Finally, she murmured, “I’m tired, Kaz.” because really, what else was there to say?

And it all went dark.

KAZ

He had known something was off the moment he had laid eyes on her. The way she held herself, the way the men around her held her. His Wraith was proud, she would not allow herself to be held tightly like that unless she needed it, desperately. He hadn’t anticipated her to fall however, he would’ve rushed forward to help her stand had 1. many very armed people had not been surrounding her and 2. he had expected the moment at all. Inej didn’t fall, it was something she prided herself on. She never stumbled, she never lost her footing. To see her on her knees like that tore something in his chest, a switch flipped and all he wanted to do was set Van Eck’s trousers alight and watch flames consume his body. She’s hurt. He suddenly wanted to go back on the deal, keep Alys to them, and spit at Van Eck’s feet, before remembering that having Inej come back unharmed was never part of the deal. He should’ve said something, he shouldn’t have let something as important as that fall into ambiguity.

It pained him to watch her fall, even if it wasn’t that far of a fall. He rushed as fast as he could to follow her onto the boat, doing his best to track the others’ movements before going after the flower boat. Panic started edging at his thoughts as he saw her there, sprawled and barely breathing. But breathing nonetheless. He considered shaking her awake, he considered splashing water on her, but instead, he went against every single one of his instincts and simply placed a gloved hand on her arm. He gripped her softly, if she was even semi awake he hoped this would communicate his presence well enough. It made him feel better, anyways, to have her there, physical proof just under his palm.

His entire plan had fallen apart the moment he saw her hit the cobblestone of the bridge, the foundation of his house of cards becoming flimsy. A simple breeze would be enough to cause it to crumble at the open. There was much he had to think on, futurewise, but at the moment, the most important thing was getting Inej somewhere safe and quiet. Which would be considerably more difficult now that she was incapacitated but he would get this simple task done. He would do her this much, at least. After failing her in this matter and so much more, he could do this.

So this was how he found himself in the basement of the closest safe house he owned: tired, heated with anger, and searching for a word that felt stronger than worry.

He’d set Inej down on a cot in the corner, her frame thinner than he remembered, her weight so much lighter than the last time he’d carried her. He leaned against the wall, his grip on his cane like iron. There was nothing strong enough to describe the thoughts in his mind, the feelings rising in his chest. He’d always been protective of Inej, it was something understood in the Barrel. You didn’t touch Kaz Brekker’s Wraith. Of course, if you did it was likely she would handle you before word even reached him, but it was understood. Inej could take care of herself but his protection meant there were very few people who would attempt to hurt her. Van Eck was one of those people who crossed that line, apparently, and Kaz was ready to march back up those stairs and force the man to face the consequences Dirtyhands was preparing for him.

There wasn’t anything he could do while he waited. Plot his enemies demise, yes, but other than be consumed by his own thoughts, he had nothing to occupy him while Inej slept. So he just sat against the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest. He knew he must’ve looked a little ridiculous but he refused to leave, to do anything other than wait and know for sure that she was alright.

It was only an hour or so before she stirred, the rustling of the sheets deafening in the quiet of the dark room. He rose to his feet, taking several long strides to reach her bedside.

“Kaz?” she blinked up at him, eyes finally clear and expression less severe, if a little twisted from whatever pain she was experiencing. “What’s- where are we?”

“Somewhere safe.” he answered, crouching down to be at about her eye level. She tracked him, meeting his gaze evenly. “A safehouse. No one will find us here.”

She looked away, her eyes leaving his to stare up at the ceiling. “Did everyone get out?” “I think so.” he said. “It was more complicated than I expected, but everyone was prepared for worse than that.” She nodded softly, something he couldn’t quite understand in her expression. He watched carefully as she began pulling herself up into a sitting position, which she could do easily enough. That was a relief, nothing from the waist up was hurt enough to keep her lying in bed. The rest of her however…

“What did he do to you?” he couldn’t help himself, his anger was stronger than anything. His words were biting, every bit of disgust and fury he felt seeping into them. He tried to back off a bit, though, when he focused on the present again and saw her. She looked… well, she looked a few steps away from timid. Not quite there, Inej could never be timid, but she twisted her sleeve between her fingers, the gesture was enough to make Kaz believe there was something more weighing on her. He could sense it easily, Kaz was smart, he knew Inej, knew what was important to her. She was an acrobat and an acrobat was nothing without their legs to keep them steady. To have that pulled from her- no matter how temporary it was or wasn’t- must be incredibly difficult to manage mentally. He wanted to reach out, to place his hand on top of hers and stop her anxious twitching. Comfort her in some way.

He didn’t do that, though, he simply sat back on his heels and waited in the silence.

“He- uh-” she bit her bottom lip, fighting against a quiver at the edge of her voice. He didn’t say a word, he let her collect her words before speaking again.

“He broke my leg.” she said finally, her voice steady in a way that was easily discerned as fake. Her hand curled into a fist beside her, gripping tightly to the sheets she sat on. “He broke my leg, Kaz.”

He still didn’t know what to say. He supposed any other person in this moment would move to comfort her but he was not that person, he was not the right person for this moment. He should have the right words prepared, shouldn’t he? What had he wanted someone to tell him when he broke his own leg? He wasn’t sure. Their two situations were far too different from each other, in his mind, he couldn’t try and compare them. Saints, why couldn’t he just know what the right thing to do was? He was supposed to be self assured, confident, but when it came to things like this… yes, he was more than a little lost.

“It’ll get better,” he said finally. “Rest and a good medik. We’ll get-”

“That won’t-” she cut herself off, eyes looking off into the distance but the distance was really just the wall opposite the bed. “Not with something like this. Bed rest won’t put my bones back together. I won’t- it’s not going to ‘get better’.”

That silenced him, he pressed his lips together tightly. He had no rebuttal. He knew very little about medicine, so he couldn’t offer her any assurances in that regard. He wouldn’t be able to tell her one way or the other, so he just said nothing about that again.

“He made sure of it,” she went on, her voice weighed with hundreds of pounds of anger and grief. “He made sure it was broken in a way that would never be the same. It’ll never- I won’t ever be the same.”

“I…” he didn’t have the right words to console her. There wasn’t anything he could say that would bridge the gap between them, her anger and sorrow was warranted, and he was simply along for the ride. He had never been one for comforting words, it was never his forte. He simply let his presence speak for itself. If he cared enough to be there, that should be enough. He found many others didn’t agree with that, but to him, it was enough. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t waste his time. He had never wanted to be better at formulating comforts as much as right then. He wanted to reach across this divide between them he had cultivated with every cold shoulder and every moment of distance, but it was a divide he had created for a reason. He could not breach it now, he felt that it was too late. There was a time and place for everything, besides. The time and place for rocking the boat was not now, most definitely.

“You’ll be okay, Wraith.” it was the best he could come up with, which he knew was woefully insufficient. Worse than insufficient, in hindsight, it was one of the worst things that could’ve fallen from his mouth in that moment.

“Don’t you see, I can’t be your Wraith anymore, Kaz!” she burst out, turning to look at him with shining eyes and pain written on every part of her face.

His lips parted in understanding. It hadn’t gone over his head, the thought that this injury would keep her from wall climbing or jumping from rooftops. He just hadn’t stopped to think about (or maybe had avoided it altogether) how that would affect… whatever it was that held the two of them together. They were held together with a thin piece of thread, constantly having a fear looming over them that they would snap apart and be unable to put the pieces back together. That once the string broke, they would no longer fit together anymore. He couldn’t imagine doing any of this without her, even just the week she had been kidnapped by Van Eck had been a misery. What was he to do if she left the Dregs?

“I’m not a valuable investment anymore.” she bit out finally, her words cold. “You shouldn’t have come for me. You wouldn’t have, had you known.”

It was something he couldn’t stand to feel fall on his ears. His anger was stronger than anything else, at Van Eck for doing this to her, at himself for making her believe all of these things she said. He knew he had been the one to plant the seed of doubt in her mind from the very beginning. Every harshness, every time he turned away, he had made her believe she was nothing more than an investment that, when expired, could be easily tossed aside. He couldn’t let it stand, he wouldn’t. “I would come for you.” he said, this time without hesitation. It was something he had to say. He had to. And when she shot him a look filled to the brim with doubt, he said it again. “I would come for you. And if I couldn’t walk, I'd crawl to you, and no matter how broken we were, we’d fight our way out together — knives drawn, pistols blazing. Because that’s what we do. We never stop fighting.”

There was a long stretch of silence and for a moment, he partially panicked. He might’ve said the wrong thing, might’ve upset her further. Since when did he care about the right or the wrong thing to say? He was Kaz Brekker, and he didn’t care what opinions others held for him and he never had. That was a lie, of course, one he told himself in the late hours of the night and every minute of the day when he couldn’t shake the feeling he got every time he looked at Inej. It was the biggest lie anyone had ever told him, and he was telling it to himself. He cared about her opinion, he cared about her opinion of him, and more than anything, he simply cared about her. Cut and dry. Simple as anything.

She didn’t reply, simply turned her head slightly to the side, a soft shadow obscuring any expression that might’ve broken through. She nodded after a minute, and that was the end of it for now. He stood, leaning against his weight against his cane. The walk from the river to this safe house had been difficult on him, he’d had to carry Inej and his cane in his arms, forcing each step. He would feel it tomorrow, most likely, but he did not regret it. He walked to the desk on the other side of the room, pulling out some crackers and a waterskin. He handed them to her in silence, watching as she tentatively bit into the cracker, chewing slowly. She was already small to begin with, looking at her and seeing so much less caused a little worry to nag at the back of his mind. He pushed it aside, she would be alright.

“Rest.” he said finally. “We’ll meet the others in a bit. For now, just rest.”

#six of crows #kaz brekker #inej gafha #kaz x inej #kanej #kanej fic #six of crows fic #six of crows fanfic #grishaverse #AAAAAND please let this be good I have not read in months I beliee #I legit don't remember writing this-

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murdershegoat · 5 years ago

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(inspired by this // on ao3 // ko-fi)

she’s had the voice in her head for as long as she can remember

well, it’s not exactly a voice, more just like a really strong, disembodied feelings that echoes loudly in her head and body. like, it’s not her gut feelings, it’s an outside force and it’s loud and sometimes scary.

so whatever she calls it a voice when she’s explaining it to others.

this voice, it guides her decision making. it’s not an exact science (yet) but if she thinks in her head ‘i’m gonna go get ice-cream’ the voice will either say WARMER or it’ll say COLDER

well, it won’t say it because it’s not a voice. it’s more like this disembodied feeling feels like it’s saying WARMER or COLDER and she’ll physically feel it as well.

if she’s supposed to get ice cream, she’ll feel a sudden warmth

if she’s not supposed to get ice cream, she’ll feel a sudden chill

she doesn’t know why the voice makes the decisions it does, but she has to assume that it’s leading her towards something, towards success or whatever

at the very least, she has to believe that it’s trying to keep her alive. it’s a survival thing. whatever it is, it’s kept her alive for 26 years and counting.

and though it keeps her alive, it doesn’t always save her from pain. the voice tells her kissing veronica sinclair in the horse stables is a warm idea and veronica ended up breaking her heart and humiliated her in front of the whole school.

when she was four, the voice told her to trust lillian. and that’s led to a whole life of pain.

anyway. the voice.

andrea is the first person she tells about it.

they’re hiking in the amazon during spring break. and, as happens sometimes in life, they come to a diverging path and have to choose. left or right. andrea looks at the compass. ‘it’s not working,’ she says. ‘how fucking convenient,’ lena replies. she sighs and steps to the left path.

‘we’re going left,’ she says emphatically as she feels a familiar warmth roll through her. ‘why?’ andrea asks. ‘i just have a feeling.’

only andrea isn’t swayed by ‘just a feeling.’ she demands more and she refuses to go left until lena finally breaks down and explains the voice

(not a voice.)

‘well what happens if we don’t listen to it??’ andrea asks after a barrage of questions, her analytical mind whirring a mile a minute. lena shrugs, ‘i dunno. i’ve never taken the risk of not listening.’

they go left.

they survive the amazon. the voice is always right.

‘you know,’ andrea says, her head resting against the plane window. ‘my nanny used to tell me stories.’ ‘isn’t that what all nannies do?’ ‘she would tell me stories about people having unexplainable powers or whatever, i don’t remember the details… but i remember her saying that the powers always lead people to the thing they need the most. and it could take months or it could take years but it’s a part of your soul, like, intrinsically in you.’

andrea’s xanax kicks in soon after that and she sleeps for the rest of the plane ride home

lena stays awake the whole flight, wondering what these choices are and what this voice is leading her towards.

the voice leads her through the end of high school and it leads her to MIT (fun fact: she’s never felt a firmer COLDER than she had when she held harvard’s acceptance letter in her hand.)

it really helps her in college. sure, she still makes a lot of what she deems voice-sanctioned mistakes (sleeping with veronica sinclair is at the top of that list) but her grades are stellar and she’s on track for getting her second masters and she has a load of friends.

and then her brother goes insane and tries to kill superman. the sky is red and lena stands in lex’s office overlooking downtown metropolis. ‘join me lena,’ he says. ‘help me and we’ll be unstoppable. we’ve always been a strong family but believe me, we’ll run this country together one day, i promise you that. all i need you to do is trust me.’ he holds out his hand

for a second, she considers doing it. she doesn’t want to lose her family. i am going to trust my brother.

the voice says COLDER.

lena listens to the voice. she always listens to the voice.

it’s the first time the voice has made her lose something - someone - as important as lex. it’s the first time she thinks that maybe this voice thing doesn’t know what it’s doing because it’s never hurt her like this before.

the fallout from lex’s breakdown feels cataclysmic. her friends stop speaking to her, her professors stop calling on her in class. she can’t even work at the library without being harassed.

and to top it all off, she becomes the youngest female ceo of a fortune 500 company. which means board meetings and strategy sessions all while writing a thesis.

but meeting jack spheer feels like finding a life raft in the middle of a ferocious ocean, keeping her afloat, letting her catch her breath. he’s cute and he’s funny and well-to-do, and he’s the type of person lena knows she should date and possibly marry.

jack is the second person lena tells about the voice. she’s scared because she isn’t sure he’ll believe her, that he’ll drop her like the rest of her friends have.

but jack, bless his heart, just asks a hundred questions. ‘so even things like which sodas to drink?’ ‘the voice doesn’t let me drink soda.’ ‘whoa.’

jack is the first person who’s not veronica sinclair lena tells her other big secret to. they’ve been out drinking and eventually they stumble back to jack’s place and she feels brazen enough to blurt it out while he makes her a grilled cheese sandwich. she doesn’t even have time to wait for the voice’s opinion; the truth just falls out of her, unable to stay contained any longer.

‘i’m gay,’ lena says. ‘and i understand if you don’t agree with that lifestyle, but i’m still the same person i’ve always been and i would like to remain friends with you.’

‘a person with terrible gaydar apparently,’ jack replies. ‘as the kids say, it takes one to know one. i would’ve told you sooner but… i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner.’ she surges forward and throws her arms around him, hugging him tightly. neither of them lets go.

the grilled cheese burns.

‘should we just get chinese instead?’

the voice says WARMER.

she’s scared of starting over in national city, but the voice in her head seems to think it’s a WARMER sort of idea.

so she packs her bags and jack says goodbye to her at the airport and before she knows it, she’s looking down at NC from her pristine white office. the CVs of two assistants she’s interviewed. ‘i’m going to hire jess chin-salva as my PA,’ she murmurs to herself. ‘WARMER,’ says the voice.

when jess tells her two reporters are at the door, the strapping frame of clark kent isn’t whom she is expecting. she also isn’t expecting kara danvers to follow close behind, kara danvers whose smile is much too bright and friendly to work for a hardened journalist, whose blue eyes twinkle with a kindness lena has seldom been gifted by others, whose biceps are clearly visible through the cardigan she wears.

lena doesn’t have a choice to make, and yet for some reason it screams at her. WARMER. WARMER.

and then it says something new.

WARMEST

the feeling won’t leave lena’s body, and she struggles to focus on the interaction with the journalists, but she thinks she’s managed to tell them the truth. she’s just trying to rebuild her family’s business. she just wants to do good things and make the world a better place. but it’s hard to focus on any of that when her mind and her body feel like they’re on fire.

it only dies down when kara leaves the room, and lena’s pretty sure that there’s something special about that woman.

except maybe there’s just something about the blue eyed women of national city. because later that day lena’s helicopter is shot down and she finds herself being carried to safety by supergirl and the voice goes batshit crazy again.

‘focus on the fact you’re about to die,’ lena tries to tell it, but it doesn’t listen to her. so instead, she doesn’t look away from supergirl’s steady, reassuring gaze until she flies away. and she wonders why supergirl is a ‘WARMEST’.

‘i heard you almost died,’ jack says when he calls her that night. ‘who cares about that?’ she responds, ‘the weirdest thing happened with the voice.’ she tells him of feeling ‘warmest’, of feeling it twice in one day with two different people, of how it refused to go away and occurred without any decisions to make.

‘ok i’m about to share a document with you,’ he says, and lena can hear him typing on his laptop. ‘there, open it.’

it’s a spreadsheet. holy shit.

‘this is every big decision you’ve ever made,’ jack says. ‘there are also some medium sized decisions thrown in, but mostly just the big ones.’ ‘how the hell do you know all this?’ she asks, shocked. ‘why else do you think i’ve been asking you about all this for so long?’ he replies. ‘every time you tell me something the voice says, it’s gone into this spreadsheet. now, i only have limited knowledge of decisions you made before you met me, but i’ve been able to put in a lot of them based on your stories alone. i thought, what better way for you to try and understand this than to put it into words you understand best?’

‘you’re phenomenal,’ lena tells him. ‘i just… i never thought of this. i just assumed it was all some unknowable hippy dippy nonsense.’

‘i mean, it could definitely still be hippy dippy nonsense. but still take a look at it, see if there are any patterns or anything.’

‘i love you, jack.’ ‘too bad i’m gay, huh’

lena sees a lot more of kara and supergirl, though never at the same time. kombucha dates with kara and supergirl swooping in to save her life every now and again. the voice isn’t as overwhelming in their follow up visits, though a pleasant hum of warmth resides low in her being whenever either of them are around.

maybe, lena thinks, it’s not the voice at all. maybe, she thinks, it’s about time she starts dating again.

but none of the women she sees bring the same warmth that kara and supergirl do.

the decision data that jack put together doesn’t seem to make much sense either. but she continues to add to it, bit by bit.

and then something weird happens.

‘you’re getting more potstickers?’ lena laughs. ‘don’t you have any self control?’

‘i’m only human, lena.’

‘i suppose i should believe you.’

COLDER.

COLDER? she’d never gotten a COLDER near kara before. and why? she shouldn’t believe that kara’s human? of course kara’s human! she’s just an awkward, sweet, kind girl from midvale. it’s not like she’s supergirl, for crying out loud!

holy shit

what the fuck

kara’s supergirl?????

kara’s supergirl. it totally makes sense. why hadn’t she seen it before??????? had she been willfully blind to it?

she made a fool out of me, lena thinks. i should hate her. but the voice says COLDER. huh. so hating kara is off the table.

maybe, she thinks, maybe i knew and i didn’t want to admit it to myself. because clearly kara doesn’t want me to know. and i don’t want to push her into telling me because i don’t want to lose her. i can’t lose her. because i lo---

‘i’m so fucked,’ she tells jack over the phone later that night. ‘kara is supergirl and she doesn’t know that i know and i--’ ‘what is it?’ ‘i think i’m in love with her.’ ‘oh my god FINALLY,’ he yells into the phone. ‘i havent even met kara and i knew you were in love with her. you know she’s all you talk about right? like, you run one of the biggest companies in america and you have a disembodied voice that lives in your head and a million other things going on in your life, and the only thing i’ve heard you talk about for months now is kara danvers.’

‘you did not know’

‘i really did. but im glad you know as well because i can finally present you with my biggest theory on The Voice.’

‘not a voice’

‘remind me what it was that andrea’s aunt or nanny or whoever thought it could be?’

‘that was a million years ago,’ lena says; she hasn’t thought about andrea in ages. she should give her a call. ‘i think it was something about… these types of abilities lead a person to thing they need most in the world.’

‘right. i’ve been doing a lot of new age reading and it hasn’t been pleasant at all and i sort of hated every moment of it, but i think i have some idea of what this could be. it’d explain everything.’

‘well then, what is it?’

‘i don’t think it’s the thing you need most in the world,’ jack says. ‘i think it’s the person you need most in this world.’

‘you mean like-’

‘a soulmate. think about it. somehow every decision that voice has gotten you to make has led you to standing in your office in national city where you met kara for the first time. and what did the voice say when you met kara, completely unprompted?’

‘warmest,’ lena whispers.

‘exactly. warmest. as in, as warm as can be. because the whole time, the thing this voice has been leading you towards is kara danvers.’

lena’s plan for handling all of these revelations is drinking herself into a stupor. and it’s truly wonderful for the most part.

that is, until she wakes up with a headache and someone pounding their fist on her front door.

‘wHAT,’ she yells as she throws open the door.

‘do you want to explain the voicemails you left me last night?’

oh shit. lena’s hungover brain processes that it’s in fact kara standing at the door. she ushers kara in and shuts the door behind them.

‘to be honest with you,’ lena says as she puts on a pot of coffee, ‘i think i’m still a bit drunk and i definitely dont remember what those messages said.’

you said you know i’m supergirl. you said you’re not angry at me for lying to you--’

‘oh that’s not so bad’

‘-- and you said you have proof we’re soulmates.’

fuck.

‘do you want to explain yourself?’

‘can i drink my coffee first?’

… kara watches her drink her coffee.

‘okay,’ lena says. i’ll explain but you can’t ask any questions til the end. deal?’ kara nods.

the third person lena tells about the voice is kara danvers.

‘my whole life i’ve had this… this sort of voice in my head. and when i have a decision to make in front of me, it says WARMER or it says COLDER. it’s how i’ve made every choice since i was four years old, from the clothes i picked to the type of coffee i drink to the college i went to.’

‘like intuition.’

‘not intuition. fuck. i shouldnt tell you any of this.’

COLDER.

‘well. guess i should tell you about this.’

WARMER

‘it’s not intuition. it’s not a gut feeling. it’s not a part of me. it’s something bigger and otherworldly and it’s been leading me my whole life to something… i can only assume something much bigger and more important than i am. except i also think that the thing it’s been leading me to is you. and you don’t have to believe me at all, and god, you don’t have to believe in soulmates but… but far out, kara. i’m in love with you. i’m so in love with you it’s insane. and if you don’t feel the same way, i understand, but please don’t shut me out. i can live without you being in love with me, but i don’t think i can live without you in my life anymore.’

they stand in silence, lena’s plea still hanging in the air between them.

‘on krypton,’ kara says softly. ‘there’s only one way to know if somebody’s your soulmate or not.’

‘how do they do it?’ lena asks, imagining a blood test or a swab or something.

instead kara takes a step closer to her and she puts her hands on lena’s hips and she presses their foreheads together and she says ‘do you feel it?’

‘what--’

but she feels it. a sort of calm washing over them both. the air stills and lena swears she can hear kara’s heart beating and she feels serenity like she’s never felt it before.

‘wow,’ kara says, and before she can stop herself, lena kisses her softly, barely. but it’s still a kiss.

and she can’t really describe it, but she feels the voice leave her.

‘i want to kiss you again,’ lena says. but there’s no voice that says warmer or colder. all there is is kara danvers, nodding her head and saying ‘then kiss me.’

lena has many thoughts about soulmates. she thinks if the universe gives you some sort of magical powers, it should also give you an instruction manual for them. she thinks her soulmate is the most perfect soulmate that’s ever been created ever. but this is the real kicker: lena knows that the voice may have led her to kara, but she’s the one who has to make sure she stays there. they have to put in the work together. love isn’t just a magical feeling, it’s building trust and learning to be selfless and letting someone into your life in a multitude of intimate ways. and now that kara’s in her life, in all of her wonderful glory, there’s no way lena will ever let her go.

#supercorp #supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #fanfic #my writing

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rpmemesbyarat · 3 years ago

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RP meme from Scream Queens Ep 9 "Ghost Stories"

Damn straight I'm out in public.

I'm the master of disguise, baby.

Like, "are you not entertained?"

Yeah, no, no, everyone thinks I'm Joaquin Phoenix.

I just tell them it's part of my performance art piece.

I'm Joaquin Phoenix.

I'm sort of gay now, too.

Why are you dressed like that?

Sacagawea taught the pilgrims how to make cranberry sauce and then, like, sang "Blue Corn Moon" or something.

You know how you've been talking about taking our relationship to the next level?

Yeah, like, you know, like, the furniture just starts screaming, or, like, you'll crack open a Mountain Dew and you'll start to drink it and then it'll just turn to blood.

We're gonna have, like, the dopest time.

So let's all raise a glass to me.

I am about to be, like, super rich.

You can't spend Thanksgiving alone.

Oh, I am so glad neither of us have been killed.

I don't understand why you're making us bubble wrap each item of clothing.

When something costs $63,000, you wrap it in bubble wrap.

I think because I'm not allowed to carry a firearm, I like to pop the little bubbles, and then pretend like my finger is a gun.

I am personally being haunted by a ghost.

Wait, you-you-you seriously saw a ghost?

Put down the bubble wrap down.

Them Japanese got all manner of weird-ass ghost stories. And the one about the kappa is the creepiest of all. They live in the sewer. And they just waiting for you to sit your ass on the toilet, so they can reach up and grab your ass, snatch you by the vagina and drown your crushed body in raw sewage.

Why another story about a bathroom?

No more ghost stories!

I really have to pee. But there is no way I'm going anywhere near a toilet. So if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go look for a salad bowl to squat over under the stairwell.

Does somebody need another ghost story to scare away the heebie-jeebies?

You have come back to haunt us.

Ghosts walk among you every day; you would never know it.

Did you forget you're super gay?

Haven't you ever heard the phrase, "once you go black, you never go back"?

If I don't hear another ghost story right now, I might just have a stroke!

Then the killer could come in and chop off your head!

Let's all sit by the fireplace.

The killer could still be out there!

I need my lotions, my silk robe, my sensual massage oils, a bottle of champagne, and chocolate-covered strawberries.

I was a pretty amazing person when I was alive.

Maybe we can even date for a little while.

You faked your death.

Wait. This all makes sense-- of course you would fake your own death so no one would suspect you.

We both know how you got his birthmark on your hand! From when I stabbed you in your evil lair!

I am not staying in this house for a moment longer.

Call the cops. There's someone in the back seat of your car.

Okay, well, I'm really sorry about that, but you have to admit that what you were doing was super confusing.

I could have swore I saw someone. Granted I am pretty high on Adderall and I've been on the road for 35 hours straight.

I feel like you farted.

Your breath, it always smells like you just ate a cheeseburger.

It's like making out with the Hamburglar.

You, my friend, have a poo belly.

I only caught this kiss so I could throw it away.

That story is neither scary nor amazing.

Honestly, if you're going to get attacked, please attempt to get attacked in a fresh, exciting way.

We have to concentrate-- the pieces of this puzzle are coming together.

The police aren't going to help us.

You can't stop a ghost.

And guess what, bitch, I'm pregnant!

Packing matters to me. That's why I chose to minor in luggage sciences with an emphasis in packing theory.

I really screwed up.

I mean, most of the time we porked in a way that could not result in pregnancy, if you know what I mean. But I always knew I had a sackful of strong swimmers.

We make our beds and we lie in them.

You could still be my piece on the side.

I want you to pay.

You might even just pay the ultimate price.

Did you just threaten to kill me?

Am I just supposed to ignore the obvious fact that you hate me and love nothing more than playing super-humiliating pranks on me?

Why do you always have to make everything about you?

Like, remember that one time when you hacked into my mom's e-mail and wrote me this really long letter explaining how I was adopted and born with fetal alcohol syndrome and therefore, had an IQ in the low 60s?

I'm sorry, but that was hilarious. I stand by that prank.

[NAME], you cannot just run around murdering people.

I beg of you, do not have sex with him.

His blood is on your hands!

The only benefit of meeting you is that I now know I clearly have a type, and that type is a moron.

I'm gonna make sure that everyone you know knows that when we had sex, you asked me in baby talk if you could nurse from me.

Oh, I never say I'm sorry.

I see that you're enjoying the good life.

Are you about to break into song?

Are you about to break into song? Because all I'm hearing out of your mouth is, ♪ me, me, me, me, me. ♪

My mother would have understood.

It's a special champagne with triple the alcohol and a nicotine-y mouth feel, because it's infused with tobacco.

You're trapped in a web of lies, whore.

You're not leaving this room until you've peed on every single one of these pregnancy tests.

Fine, you got me. I'm not pregnant.

It's just that ever since you walked through those doors, I knew you were gonna be the one to take it all away from me.

You killed her!

#rp meme #rp memes #rp starters #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #roleplay memes #scream queens

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jawritter · 4 years ago

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Migraines...

Request: May I request something? I suffer of chronic migraine and every time I say it hurts to much to hang out people tell me it's only an headache, Can you write a Jensen x reader where she is in a similar situation? She has a migraine in one of their first date, she didn't say anything but J can see she isn't ejoing herself and when he found out why he bring her home to give her something for the pain and cuddle. And in the future he always stay home and cuddle her when she has migraine? Thank you!

Warnings: None really, maybe some language in there somewhere, but that’s always a warning with me lol. I’m not sorry. Sick reader warning, headache, bad headache, fluffy Jensen. I think that’s about it.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Sick!Reader

Word Count: 1859

A/N: Beta’d by @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid! Thanks again hun! Also thanks to @deanwanddamons who has been working on a project with me for my 1k binge read! You guys are both awesome!!

Want more? Check out my masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

Even though the text message notification on your phone wasn’t loud in theory, it seemed like it was loud enough to break the sound barrier to your aching head.

Rolling over in your sea of blankets you feel blindly for your phone in the pitch black room, regretting the moment you look at the brightly lit screen of your phone, feeling a fresh stab of pain shoot through your skull at the assaulting light change in your vision field.

When you finally got the screen dark enough for you to read the text message without screaming pain in your head you see it was a text message from Jensen, telling you that he was looking forward to dinner with you tonight when he got off work, and your heart fell in your chest.

You had been suffering from a migraine for the past two days, and it was just getting worse, you had totally forgotten about your plans for dinner with your boyfriend tonight. Hell you didn’t even know what day it was until he texted you, you had barely left your bed.

Letting out a frustrated huff of breath you text him back, and tell him you couldn’t wait to see him. When in reality, you were racking your aching brain, trying to figure out exactly how you were going to survive this date.

You didn’t want to cancel your date with him because of your migraine. It wasn’t like it was something you hadn’t had to suffer through before, having had them from a very young age, and as everyone loved to tell you, ‘It’s just a headache’, so you have had to suffer through dates, birthdays, work, and just about anything you could imagine before.

Also it had been a week since you’d seen Jensen, the two of you hadn’t been dating long, and you didn’t want to disappoint him. In fact this was your first ‘official’ date.

If there was one person you didn’t want to let down because of a ‘stupid headache’ it was him.

So you spent the rest of the day trying medication, home remedies from essential oils, to excessive caffeine intake to get this migraine to let up at least a little bit, in order to fool your boyfriend.

By the time you showered, dressed, and did your makeup, you were pretty sure the drummer for Disturbed was trapped inside your skull, and was playing ‘Down With The Sickness’ on repeat.

Nothing you had tried worked, not even a little bit, this was probably the most relentless migraine you had ever experienced, just because you so desperately needed it to go away, it chose to hang on.

You didn’t have time to wallow long in your self pity before the doorbell sounded, and you opened the door, revealing Jensen.

“Hey baby girl, I missed you.” Jensen said, coming through the door, and grabbing you up into a hug. The swift movement that would have normally made you laugh, made you scrunch up your nose, and close your eyes for a second. Jensen was quick to pick up the change in your normal behavior as well. Not missing a thing. The boy was observant if he was nothing else, and that was going to make this just as hard to hide the fact that you weren’t feeling the best.

“What’s wrong?” he asked you, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked into your eyes, searching you as if he could read your reaction before you answered him.

“Nothing’s wrong, just surprised me that’s all.” you lied smoothly, hoping he’d buy it.

“Oh, sorry, I was just really excited to see you.” he said, grabbing you around the waist, and pulling you closer to him, slower this time, brushing his lips over yours in a sweet kiss.

“S’okay, I really missed your face too,” you tell him jokingly, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Well, let’s get going before they cancel our reservation,” he said, grabbing your jacket, and helping you to slip it on your shoulders. "When we’re done if you're feeling up to it, I thought about taking you down to the pier. It’s beautiful out there at night, one of my favorite places actually.”

You smiled sweetly at him before giving him a peck on his cheek as he opened the car door for you. You couldn’t disappoint him in this, he’d put so much thought into it, and people all over the world would consider you damn lucky to have a date night with Jensen Ackles, so you soldiered through it, determined to not let it show that your skull was pounding.

The ride to the restaurant was a short one mercifully, and they took you both to the back fairly quickly, into the VIP part of the restaurant, one of the perks of being on a date with Jensen.

The strong smell of the Italian food assaulted your senses as soon as you made your way into the room, and you had to swallow down the wave of nausea that assaulted you.

Two very annoying things that made migraines more than just a headache, the sensitivity to light, and smell were horrible.

You tried your best to keep up with the conversation, Jensen talked to you about his day on set, future projects, asking you questions about yourself in an attempt to get to know you better. You thought you were keeping up pretty good with the conversation. Until Jensen finally put his fork down, and pushed his plate away from him, his astonishing green eyes searching yours, and his fingers reaching up nervously to scratch at his beard.

“Y/N… Am I doing something wrong?” Jensen asks, and your heart hit your feet like a lead balloon.

“No Jay, everything is perfect! Why would you think you were doing something wrong?” you asked in earnest, and if you wouldn’t have had a headache, you would have been having a great time.

Jensen picked a perfect restaurant, you loved the food, what little bit you were able to eat of it, and he was being the perfect gentleman. He’d obviously put a lot of thought into this date tonight, and you felt like you had already let him down, or he wouldn’t have even had to ask you that question.

“Well, it’s just that you’ve hardly touched your food at all, you refused the wine when they offered it to you, and you're barely talking to me at all, I feel like I’m carrying the conversation here. I just, you know, wanted you to have a good time.”

You mentally high fived yourself in the face as he looked down at his lap defeated, you never meant to hurt his feelings, you thought you were keeping up the conversation pretty well, he was obviously paying more attention than you gave him credit for, and you were a horrible actor.

Reaching across the table you grab his hand in your own, and his eyes look up to meet yours as he chews nervously at his lower lip, awaiting your rejection.

“Jay, that’s not it, I’m having a good time, It’s just, I wasn’t very honest with you earlier. You see I have these migraines, and I’ve been dealing with this one for the past two days, I thought I could soldier through it without you noticing, but apparently there’s a reason why I’m not an actor. I love spending time with you Jensen, and I didn’t want to let you down.”

Jensen reached across the table with his free hand, your hands in his big, warm hands, his eyes softening instantly, and relief evident on his beautiful face.

“Oh baby, you should have told me!” you looked down for a moment humiliated and embarrassed that you had officially ruined your first date with the man you’d been in love with since the words “Easy tiger” fell from those amazingly pink lips of his fifteen years ago.

Sliding his chair around the small table in order to get closer to you, Jensen wraps his arms around you, and pulls you into his chest, the warmth of his body, and the scent of his cologne had you melting against him in a matter of seconds.

“I’m sorry I ruined our date. I’m sure you never want to go out with me again.” You tell him shyly, enjoying the close contact, convinced it was the last you’d ever get from him.

“Sweetheart, of course I want to see you again, hell you really think you're getting rid of me tonight?” he asked as he motioned to the waiter to bring the check. “We’re getting you home, in some comfy PJ’s, and we’re gonna cuddle until you feel better, even if that takes days.”

If you hadn’t fallen in love with the man already, you would have been right there at that moment. No one had ever treated you like that just because you had a migraine, never. Usually they told you to suck it up, but his main concern seemed to be you feeling better, and getting you home. You didn’t know how the hell you got so lucky to have found this man, but you thanked whatever God out there that was listening that you did.

Once Jensen got you home, medicated, and in your comfy PJ’s he changed into some he’d still had packed in his car, and snuggled down into the bed next to you, turning the lights off in the bedroom, getting it as cold as the two of you could stand it, and enveloping you in his strong arms. Playing with your hair softly, and peppering you with little, soft kisses ever so often until you relaxed against him.

Even with a horrible migraine you fell asleep that night more content than you had ever been in your life, you could definitely get used to sleeping in this man’s arms.

The next morning came and you were greeted with a cup of coffee, and Jensen’s lips kissing your head, snuggling back down into the covers next to you.

“Feeling better, baby girl?” he asked you, letting you settle back against him with a cup of coffee curled in your fingers. His warm body pressed tightly to yours.

“Much better, migraine seems to be gone, or almost gone, you're a miracle worker.” you tell him, giving him a quick peck on the cheek, before settling back down against him.

“I got the magic touch.” he said, tickling your sides a little, causing you to giggle against him.

“Seriously, baby girl, next time you're not feeling well tell me, we’ll have a night in, as long as I’m with you, I don’t care how I spend it. I just want to be with you.”

“How did I get so lucky to have you, Jensen?” you asked him, looking into his piercing green eyes that you could honestly drown in.

“Better remember it to, baby girl. Cause I’m one of a kind”

Giving him a jab in the ribs playfully you reveil in the laugh that vibrated through him. He was right about one thing, he was definitely one of the kind.

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Tag List: @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @deanwanddamons @imabitch4jensen @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen one shot #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x sick!reader #x reader inserts #sick!reader #jensen x you #jensen x reader #hurt!comfort fic #hurt!comfort #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic

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samanthadalton · 4 years ago

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Star crossed lovers (au) part 3

pairings: poppy x mc (bea)

warnings: throughout this fic there will be mentions of substance abuse, homophobia, sexual abuse, violence, NSFW, mentions of abandonment, depression and death including suicide

reader discretion is advised

taglist: @somewillwin @save-me-the-last-dance @baexpoppy @cloud9in @stanzoeywade @ognenniyvolk @thepotatobleh @crazzyplays @rxssians @helpconfusedpersonhere (if you wanna be added or taken off just let me know😊)

(i had a huge writer’s block and im getting back into writing more often so this chapter is pretty short but next chapter will definitely be longer)

word count: 3.3k

part 1: part 2:

The make up

After the never ending nightmare provided by Chloe and her idiotic clique, Bea’s reputation at Belvoire couldn’t possibly be worse. Everywhere she went she was met with stares, or laughter, and some students would even go as far as to catcall her or demand a dance or two. Never so badly did Bea wish she could be invisible but alas it felt as if the world was against her even more and she couldn’t bring herself to find comfort in the person she loves the most, Poppy. After feeling heartbroken from Poppy’s actions, or lack of, Bea had been busying herself over the last couple of days so she wouldn’t have to see the blonde.

It didn’t help that Poppy was constantly blowing up Bea’s phone almost every second, not knowing why the brunette was ignoring her. It wasn’t until cheer/volleyball practice on Thursday that the blonde managed to steal a moment alone with her girlfriend after waiting for the girls to leave the locker room and then making the excuse she needed to find her speaker for practice and pulling an unsuspecting Bea to the back of the locker room.

“Poppy what the hell, let go. I have to be on time for practice since I missed practice on Tuesday because of work.” Bea’s tone is slightly agitated as she tries to shake out of Poppy’s ironclad grip but the unwavering blonde just tightens it embedding the shape of her slender fingers on the brunette’s arm.

“Not until you tell me why you’ve been avoiding me,” her voice is quiet, as she tries to catch Bea’s eyes searching for an answer.

Bea defeatedly sighs and faces the girl, her head slightly tilted down to look the blonde directly in her eyes, “You know why Pops.” Poppy’s grip slightly loosens up and Bea takes advantage and shakes her arm out of her grasp and sits on the bench in the corner with her head between her hands. “After what happened on Monday, I can barely walk through school without some asshole making a comment or giving me a weird look. I feel so… violated.” Her voice was low but soft like she was tired of it all.

Poppy wasn’t used to seeing Bea so vulnerable… so broken, usually when something like this happened at school Bea would reassure Poppy that she was okay and that Chloe’s words couldn’t hurt her. Only this time, it wasn’t just words, they publicly humiliated her girlfriend, and Poppy had never felt so powerless, as she watched her girlfriend on the brink of tears, fists balled up, but she couldn’t bring herself to move, to speak, all she could do was watch. Until Veronica broke out of her own faze and moved towards the brunette and tell everyone off. In the back of Poppy’s mind she knew that she should’ve been the one to defend her girlfriend’s honour, that she should’ve been the one by her side, not just this once but all the other times before, but her fears of everyone finding out the truth prohibited her from supporting her girlfriend, that damned fear that everyone would find out they were together which could be social suicide. For her career obviously, not her friends, they could eventually learn to love Bea, right?

Poppy pushes all thoughts from her mind and sits down next to a crestfallen Bea who’s breaths are becoming quicker, hands still wrapped tightly against her head. Poppy reaches over and wraps the girl in a one armed hug hoping the brunette doesn’t pull away, and feels a wave of relief when Bea nestles her head in the crook of the blonde’s neck and begins to regain her breathing.

“Poppy… why didn’t you say anything?” Bea’s voice was low, slightly muffled as she spoke into the blonde’s neck, if she wasn’t nestled in Poppy’s embrace Poppy would’ve missed the question altogether.

Poppy places her chin above the girl’s head and sighes and as she opens her mouth to answer, she realises that she doesn’t have an answer, or at least one that would satisfy both herself and Bea. Instead she stays silent, though her deafening silence is enough for Bea to know that neither of them had an answer. Bea pulls away from Poppy and pushes herself away from her on the bench leaving some distance between themselves, in more ways than one.

“I… see..” her voice is strained, as she battles with the tears that threaten her eyes, on the brink of exposing her hurt.

“So what do we do now? Bea.. I…I miss you so much,” Poppy murmurs, her voice slightly chokes as she apprehensively fiddles her fingers together.

Bea’s nostrils flare slightly as she grips the bench before using her force to push herself off to face the petite girl, anger flashing across all her features, she involuntarily raises her voice, “You think that this has been easy for me, Pops? It’s literally breaking my heart because I can’t talk to you about this,” her voice cracks slightly but she quickly masks it by clearing her throat and looking away.

Poppy jumps up from her seat and tries to grab Bea’s wrist to turn her around to face her and Bea pulls out of her grasp and moves towards the front of the locker room, Bea’s tone almost pleading as she looks at Poppy with sorrow in her eyes, the angered tone replaced with a softer one “just..give me some space Poppy, I just can’t really be around you right now.” Poppy tries to intercept and just as she opens her mouth Bea puts up a hand to stop her, “seriously Pops, please. After what you and your friends did I just can’t be around you right now.”

Poppy feels anger flaring up inside of her as she scrunches up her face and runs a hand through her hair, “Me?’ she points to herself, losing control of her voice raising it, ‘What the hell did I do? I didn’t even kno-”

Bea practically screams her whole face turning red as tiny specks of saliva leave her mouth as she shouts, “It’s what you didn’t do! You watched them humiliate me and you didn’t do anything! I thought my girlfriend was supposed to support me but maybe I was wrong.” With that she turns and walks out of the locker room leaving behind a broken hearted Poppy who just falters at the harsh reality of Bea’s words.

Poppy sits down on the bench, alone, thoughts running wild through her mind. She doesn’t care about the fact that the girls are probably waiting for her at cheer practice, her heart just hurts too much. She sits in silence until the sounds of heavy footsteps interrupt her thoughts, she looks up hoping it’s Bea but feels dejected when she sees a hint of grey-ish ombre hair.

“Poppy what the hell? We’re all waiting for you to tell us what to do.” Veronica tone impatient and she stands in front of the blonde with a hand on her hip, eyebrows raised. Poppy just hums non committedly, earning a frown from Veronica who in turn, proceeds to grab the girl by her arm to lift her off the bench, pulling Poppy from her reverie.

“Ow, chill V- what the hell” Poppy rubs at the spot which the ombre-haired girl just grabbed and pushes her slightly back, “Can’t I just take like 5 minutes to myself?”

Veronica has known Poppy long enough to know that something is on her mind since the blonde has a pretty clear track record for when it comes to showing up to practice on time, she sighs and cups Poppy’s cheeks staring directly into her eyes, “Now are you gonna tell me what’s up or are you gonna waste all of our time pretending you’re okay?”

“I’m fine V,” she moves towards the entrance of the locker room but is quickly pulled back by Veronica who knits her eyebrows together, features looking downcast.

“P, I’ve known you long enough to know something’s up, tell me.”

Poppy bites her lips her gaze drifts to the ground and she lets out an annoyed sigh, “I finally spoke to Bea”

Veronica perks up a little, “that’s good right?”

Poppy responds with a shake of her head obtaining a look of disapproval from the girl, “what happened when you guys talked?”

“She practically blamed me for what happened on monday, I mean how was I supposed to know that Chloe would do something so cruel? I didn’t think she had the brain cells to even come up with something like that.”

“What the hell?! It wasn’t your fault, do you want me to talk to Bea?” Veronica’s protectiveness bursts out as she awaits Poppy's answer.

‘No, I-, I didn’t mean it like that. I mean she’s right.’ Veronica sits down on the bench and pats the space next to her and Poppy obliges and sits down. “Bea was mad because I didn’t do anything, and she has every right to be mad. I mean, am I a shitty girlfriend?” She looks over to Veronica praying that she holds the answer to her question.

Veronica wraps her arm around Poppy and sighs before speaking, “Do you know why I got involved and stood up for Bea?”

“So my girlfriend could hate my guts because it should’ve been me?”

Veronica exasperates a little, lightly slapping Poppy’s back, “No idiot, I did it for you.” Poppy grimaces as she waits for Veronica to continue. Seeing that she isn’t going to interrupt Veronica carries on speaking, “I saw your face when you realised what they were doing to Bea, and I know that you were feeling conflicted. I mean I wouldn’t want to be in your place, having a girlfriend that no one can know about because our friends hate her because she’s part of the working class or whatever. Or a homophobic dad who has extremely high expectations and expects you to be the best of the best because he thinks it’s what your mom would’ve wanted.” If Veronica’s known for one thing, it's her bluntness. Her cold hard deliverance of the truth stunned Poppy, who for the first time does not have the words as reality dawns on her.

“... You’re right,” Poppy eyes frantically move side to side as she reflects on the past and realises that Bea has had to endure a lot of crap from her friends over the past couple of years, and she berates herself for thinking that her girlfriend could handle it on her own. She groans into Veronica’s shoulder, “God I’m such an idiot… I've been expecting Bea to just be okay with all the verbal abuse and I’ve never said anything to Chloe, I just let it all happen.” She jumps to her feet, suddenly feeling resolved, she looks down at Veronica who just blankly stares at Poppy hoping for an answer for her sudden awakening. “I know what I have to do” and with that she runs out of the locker room ignoring Veronica as she calls out to her.

Poppy moves with determination as she heads over to the hall where volleyball practice takes place and before she opens the door she peeks her head though the window and sees a disheartened Bea running laps as Chloe barks out orders to the rest of her teammates.

She throws the doors open and charges towards Chloe who notices a furious Poppy moving towards her and breaks out into a smile, “Hey P, aren’t you supposed to be at prac-” Poppy practically slams Chloe into the wall and practice comes to a halt as all the girls, including Bea watch the ordeal unfold. “Owww, what the hell” Chloe tries to move from Poppy’s hold as her back is flat against the wall but the shorter girl filled with anger and adrenaline rams the girl back into the wall.

“That crap you pulled on Monday wasn’t cool and you’re not gonna bother Bea or speak about her mom again. Otherwise you’re going to regret it.” Poppy’s eyes bore into Chloe’s, her tone threatening but low, only meant for the blue-eyed girl to hear.

Chloe’s temper flares as she looks over Poppy’s shoulder to see a confused Bea watching the two girls with a frown and in the moment she manages to shove Poppy back and overemphasises her height against the strawberry blonde, keeping her posture straight and her head bent slightly to look down at her, “So what? Because you’re lab partners you guys are all buddy buddy? Who gives a shit about that tramp? What you’re not going to do Poppy is walk into practice and try to embarrass me in front of my team.” Chloe’s voice echoes throughout the hall as she struggles to keep her temper under control.

Poppy’s somewhat startled by Chloe’s outburst but maintains her stoic expression and leans in to whisper, “I could end your life Chloe, don’t test me.” She looks down at Chloe’s hands to see them shaking as they’re balled up into fists, she knows the girl would never touch a hair on her head but she also doesn’t want to escalate the situation any further in case the fallout is bad for Bea. Well, there’s just one more card for her to play, she sighs and rubs her forehead with one hand as she reaches out and clasps one of Chloe’s fists with her other, “I don’t want you talking about Bea’s mom because at least she has one, no matter how shitty she may be.”

All the colour drains from Chloe’s face as her body relaxes and she looks more embarrassed than anything else, using her dead mom as bait for no one to find out about her and Bea? She’ll take that opportunity.

Chloe simply splutters struggling to find the words, so she just wraps her arms around Poppy and mumbles into Poppy’s ear, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise how much that would’ve affected you.”

Poppy rolls her eyes slightly as she knows that Chloe’s sincerity is only for her and not Bea but she releases herself from Chloe’s embrace and places a hand on Chloe’s shoulder, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have barged in here during practice but it was eating me up inside and I just had to say something.” Chloe aggressively nods along to each and every one of Poppy’s words and her lips form a small smile, which Poppy reciprocates.

“Well, umm I should get back to practice and so should you, I’ll tell the guys as well to stop too”

Poppy genuinely smiles at the girl and gives her a small thank you before turning around to leave the gym. Her eyes catch Bea’s and she crinkles her eyes a little, giving a small smile before leaving the gym to go to practice in the field.

……

After a couple of gruelling hours of practice Poppy and the rest of the cheerleaders all shower and change before forming a small semicircle around the team captain. Poppy’s gaze shifts between every girl before landing on Veronica’s who gives her a wink. “Great practice today girls, remember that we need to be in top shape for the first football game against Hearst in two weeks.” She claps her hands together as all eyes are entranced on her, “I’m sorry I was late to practice so you guys had to stay back a little longer but remember that your dedication is what’s most important to the team. Also I’m still deciding who will be part of the smaller group to cheer at the volleyball games. When the teams make it to nationals we will be representing Belvoire at the games and will be invited to stay with the volleyball team for two weeks in spring. So…. impress me girls.” The cheerleaders disperse as Veronica and Poppy walk out of the locker room side by side and Veronica bumps Poppy’s shoulder slightly as they walk out to the dimly lit empty parking lot.

“So I’m guessing whatever epiphany you had worked out”

Poppy chuckles a bit, “what makes you think that?”

“Well you weren’t a crazy bitch today in practice so there’s that. What exactly did you do?”

Poppy lazily picks at one of her manicured nails, “What I should’ve done from the start, gave Chloe a piece of my mind.”

Veronica lets out a loud exaggerated cough and Poppy looks up at her eyebrow raised, “well whatever you said, I’m guessing it worked,” she nods her head towards the direction over Poppy’s shoulder and Poppy turns to see Bea leaning against her motorbike her eyes fixated on hers and she smiles. “Well, I’ll take that as my cue to leave” she gives the blonde a quick hug and salutes to Bea before heading into her car and driving away.

Poppy saddles up to Bea and awkwardly tucks in some of her hair behind her ears. Both of them just stare at each other, waiting for the other to initiate the conversation until Bea lets out a laugh.

“So…”

“So….”

“I liked that tactic of yours, slamming Chloe against the wall, I mean I’ve been wishing to do that for years.”

Poppy throws her head back and laughs, “Not my finest moment but I had to do something,” She nervously chews on her lips as she awaits for Bea’s reaction.

“Yeah, that was uh something,” She hesitantly reaches out to the blonde gripping her waist and pulling her closer, “I’m not fully happy with you though, but thank you. I don’t know what you said to Chloe but this was the first practice where she treated me with some decency.”

Internally, Poppy screams with happiness as this was the first time in days where Bea just simply holds her and she wraps her arms around the taller girl’s neck resting her forehead against hers. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, I know I have to earn that. And I know I’ve been a shitty girlfriend-”

Bea shushes Poppy her hand moving up to cup Poppy’s jaw while her thumb circles her cheekbone, “You’re not a shitty girlfriend Pops. It’s just I wish you could just I don’t know, publicly support me a little. No one’s gonna suspect anything about us just because you’re being a respectable human being.”

“I know, I know. If I’m being honest, I just froze, I didn’t know what to do but my first instinct should’ve been to help you. It’s just so hard sometimes when everyone’s watching because honestly speaking Bea? I don’t know how you do it sometimes. You’re the most incredible person ever and you deserve to be with someone you can actually be with, not just someone you have to hide in the shadows with.”

Bea places a finger on Poppy’s lips, silencing her, and when she speaks it’s with the greatest intensity and desirability, “I choose you Poppy. Everyday I choose you. I know it’s not without its challenges but I would rather do hard with you than have it easy with somebody else. You’re worth it all. I just want a little more support, that's all I ask.”

“And that’s exactly what you’re going to get Bea, I promise,” she leans in and places a soft kiss against Bea’s lips and whispers, “I love you so much, and I promise to do better.”

Bea feverently kisses the blonde before whispering back, “I love you too. Now that we’re okay..how would you like to accompany me to a party this Saturday” her eyes gleam with hopefulness as she knows that Ford is already planning a back to school party on saturday and Poppy’s obligations would usually fall align with her friends. “There’s even going to be fireworks.”

Poppy kisses the brunette, “Fireworks huh? I would love to” she kisses Bea again, filled with passion as the couple of days they spent without each other catches up to them and Bea grips Poppy’s hips tighter pulling her impossibly closer to her.

Unbeknown to the girls, a figure in the corner of the parking lot watches the girls locked in a passionate embrace which is eventually broken as the brunette offers to drive the blonde home and they drive off together, happy and content.

read part 4 here:

#playchoices #queen b #poppy min sinclair #poppy x mc

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colossalsummer · 4 years ago

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KOTLC book one READ ALONG part 1 of 5

I read the first Keeper of the Lost Cities book and annotated every page. Here are the highlights. (Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5)

Chapter 1

He didn’t seem to realize that unless the giant dinosaur replicas came to life and started eating people, no one cared. Me, the resident paleontology nut: Shut up Sophie I care

Fitz: "Tell me something. Do you really think that’s what they look like? It’s a little absurd, isn’t it?" Please make a good dinosaur reconstruction I’m begging you

Chapter 2

Fitz’s body broke her fall as she landed across his chest. Sophie: And that’s how I met your father

Chapter 3

What was he going to do, whisk her away to some magic elf land?

Fitz: “All of the Lost Cities are real–but not how you picture them, I’m sure.” OOOOHHH that’s the name of… the book… I see now

Humans broke the law all the time. We’re wild rowdy boys we’ll mess u up

Fitz: “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Who came up with that?” Sophie: “Uh, Albert Einstein.” Fitz: “Huh. Never heard of him. But he was wrong.”

Fitz: “The slowest elf can still trump a human—even one with no proper education.” Kinda racist of you but go off I guess

Chapter 4

Sophie: “Then why are we hiding?” Fitz: “We’re dressed like humans. Humans are forbidden in the lost cities—especially here, in Lumenaria…” You’re on some kind of government mission, don’t you have a hall pass

Sophie opened her mouth to defend her race, but she could see Fitz’s point. War, crime, famine—humans had a lot of problems. OH like elves don’t have problems

Sophie: “But… I’ve been hearing thoughts since I was five.” “Five?” Lol knock him down a peg

Fitz: “You heard me?” Sophie: “Was I not supposed to?” Fitz: “No one else can.” OH HO HO

Sophie: “How will I find you?” Fitz: “Don’t worry, I’ll find you.” Not creepy

Chapter 5

She tugged out an eyelash. Not healthy

Okay. If she’s an elf is she not like… ‘Well my parents must be part elf at least.’ Like why would you not immediately be like ‘Um are we elves?’

You could be normal, like your sister. OOF DIRECT HIT

No one understood how she and Sophie could be sisters—especially Sophie. Even their parents wondered about it in their thoughts.

The silverware slipped through Sophie’s fingers. Whoop there it is

And if they weren’t her family… who was? How are her parents confused about this

Sophie: “Was I adopted?” Thank you

Her mom laughed as her mind flashed back to the twelve hours of very painful labor she’d endured. Okaaay

Did they get magically parasitized? Like a cuckoo bird?

Chapter 6

Is Forkle a magical protector? Somebody around here is.

Suspicious Stranger, Definitely Not An Elf: “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to carry her back to my sister’s house. It’s just a few blocks away, and she seems to like you better than she likes me.” RED FLAG RED FLAG

Sure hope Forkle isn’t gonna die…

Sophie: “How am I supposed to trust you when you won’t even tell me anything?” Yeah thanks, this

She gestured to the tree, but there was no one around. No thoughts nearby, either. - Did she imagine it? You saw a boy disappear once, just go with your gut baby

*Fitz ganks Sophie from school to whisk her to elf land* Can’t you wait until lunch or a free period and make up an excuse like an orthodontist appointment or something

Chapter 7

Alden: “I see Fitz wasn’t kidding about the brown eyes. Most unusual.” You as racist as your son? Let’s find out

“Humans,” Alden muttered. I see

Alden: “Kidnapping is a human crime. I’ve never heard of an elf even considering such a thing, much less trying it. What made you think it was one of us?” Of course not we’re perfect whomp whomp

Alden: “We would never have servants. The gnomes choose to live with us because it’s safer in our world. And they help in our gardens because they enjoy it. We’re privileged to have them.” Don’t come at me with that self righteousness, it was a legitimate question all things considered

…everything she’d seen in the elvin world spoke of wealth. Girl you know there’s an underbelly

As Sophie met his cold gaze, she could see what Alden meant about Bronte being hard to impress.

Sophie: “Sorry, I was surprised by your ears.” LOL this must be rude as heck, like, ‘you’re so wrinkly.’

Fitz: “You eat animals?” That must be horrifying to him

“So, Sophie.” Bronte sneered her name like it bothered him to say it. “Alden tells me you’re a Telepath.” NYEHHH MISTER POTTER

Chapter 8

Bronte’s mind felt different than Fitz’s—somehow deeper. LOLLL NO THOUGHTS HEAD EMPTY

She screamed as the goblets shattered against the table and the chairs crashed to the floor, knocking Bronte flat on his back with a thunderous collision. TOUCHDOWN

“Our language is instinctive,” Alden said. “We speak from birth…” TALKING BABIES >:O

Alden: “…though to humans our language sounds like babbling.” So they’re all googoo gaga around this fancy table R/N

Sophie: “What’s a probe?” Fitz: “Just a different way to read your mind. It’s no big deal.” Just a thermometer that goes in your butt. No big deal.

Alden: “How would you like to see Atlantis?” I WOULD LIKE THAT VERY MUCH

Chapter 9

*reading the description of Atlantis* WHERE ARE THE CRAP CITIES. I KNOW YOU HAVE THEM.

She took a slow, deep breath, closed her eyes, and stepped off the edge, screaming the whole way down. Goodbye dignity miss you

…she launched out of the vortex onto an enormous sponge. It felt like being licked from head to toe by a pack of kittens… WHOA! Is this the flagella, or the spicules? I love that

A child strolled past with some kind of chicken-lizard hybrid on a leash. PLEASE BE A DINOSAUR PLEASE

“An eurypterid,” Alden explained, “A sea scorpion.” EEEEOOOEEE I LOVE IT

Chapter 10

Sophie: “I have a file?” *cough cough* surveillance state much

“Reading should be instinctive,” Alden admitted, “but maybe your human education affected you somehow…” School is brain poison, says the flat-earther’s dad

It would be so awful to be an advanced student and suddenly know nothing.

They turned down a narrow, quiet canal lined with purple trees with thick, broad leaves like kelp. Could it be prototaxite or am I dreaming?

Alden took a small, green cube from his pocket. Credit cards are better ‘cause they don’t hurt when you sit on em. Who’s the master race now?

Despite Fitz’s earlier assurances, she couldn’t help wondering if the probe would hurt. Or worse—what humiliating memories Quinlin would find. “Sure are a lot of boy bands in here…”

…Quinlin’s gaze settled on Sophie. “Brown eyes?” WOW not even gonna say hi first huh

“You lick it,” Fitz explained. “They need your DNA.” OH SO DNA ISN’T FAKE HUH FITZ

He licked a silver strip on the wall… LOL I’m CRYING there are other ways to get DNA you GUYS

Quinlin: “Was he…?” Alden: “An elf?”… “I doubt it.” Qinlin: “How can you be sure?” Why, my biases tell me so, my good man.

Alden: “Humans do so love their chemicals.” Says Mr. Big Brain over here lickin’ doorknobs

Alden, cont’d: “If they’re not lighting something on fire, they’re spilling oil into the ocean or blowing something up.” Okay that’s fair

If you want to see my notes for a specific page, send me a message and I’ll take a picture.

Stay tuned for Part 2.

#kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #read along #part one #kotlc funny #kotlc memes #kotlc sophie #kotlc fitz #kotlc book 1 #keeper 1 #shannon messenger #kotlc read along with me

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obsidianfr3sk · 4 years ago

Text

The Origins (Chapter 1)

Summary: Before the Renegades put an end to the Age of Anarchy, they were six kids trying to survive day by day in a city ruled by chaos and desolation. Is there a space for hope and kindness somewhere in Gatlon City? Maybe.

Sooo i’ve been playing around in my head with this idea for a six part fanfic that i have about how i think the OG renegade’s lives where during the age of anaychy and how they were as kids. we don’t really know a lot about their early years, so i saw this as an opportunity to experiment with some headcanons. i’m not an english native speaker, but i hope i’ll improve my writing skill with time (renegades fandom is non-existant in spanish).

here’s the link to the story in ao3, if you rather read from there: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25123756/chapters/60870652

but anyways, enough about me. hope you like it! :))

The world that’s waiting up for me

Age of Anarchy

Year 2

He was running at full speed. The air was cold and burned his throat each time he needed to breathe. His legs had started to hurt two blocks ago because of the hits he received during his fight with Fred, but Simon wasn’t going to stop now. He was leading the run.

He turned what he believed to be a corner, and ran into a dead end. Then, he looked around, hoping to realize that his brain was fooling him into seeing that, but no. There were four boxes full of rotten fruit, an enormous closet, and dozens of black bags…

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It was obvious Fred had seen him get into that alley. Surely he was already fantasizing with the one hundred ways he was going to torture Simon as soon as he got his hands on him.

Simon heard his haunter’s fast and threatening footsteps. He analyzed his options once again. Boxes, bags, closet…

He stepped into a little puddle in his way to the closet. Closed its doors so fast, that he almost hurt his fingers. The closet wasn’t that large, so he had to remain still, so that damn old piece of furniture wouldn’t fall into pieces.

His socks were wet. Those were his best socks.

There was a minuscule space between the doors that allow him to see Freud running into the same dead-end Simon had.

But, instead of being confused, Freud grinned. The blood coming out his nose had dried and, with his crooked teeth, his appearance was even scarier than normal.

Simon still didn’t fully understand where he had gotten the courage to turn around and punch him right on the face. Laura had told him not to do that.

“Never hit the nose, Simon. You could kill someone.”

But Simon had done it. He had disobeyed Laura.

Laura had also advised him not to hear what Freud had to say about him. It was simpler than what he expected; Simon could bear with dignity all the comments about his ragged clothes, his old shoes, or his not so good looks. He could even bear when Freud started calling him “rat” and all his classmates followed the trend.

Laura would be so disappointed at him for using brute strength before words. His mother would be too. His father probably would say something between the lines: “My boy finally is starting to turn into a real man”, and the baby… well, she wouldn’t say anything. She was a baby.

But what Fred had said to him…

It comforted him knowing that if Laura had heard what Freud said, she would have hit him too.

“Where are you, little rat?” Asked Freud with a trace of mockery in his words. “Look at you. Running. Like a rat. Like your whore sister.”

The day was gray. A faint ray of light illuminated the blade of the jackknife Freud held. The image of that blade stabbing Simon in the chest, was enough for him to not get out of his hide spot and broke Freud’s nose.

“They said she tried to run,” Freud keep saying while he looked for him in a big trashcan, “but I don’t think so. I think she even enjoyed it.”

Freud kicked the boxes. Yeah, because Simon was hiding between that old fruit.

“And even if she hadn’t, I say it again: she deserved it,” Freud sentenced, disgusted by the stench that the fruits emanated. “Prodigies like her had always been freaks. Dangerous freaks. I don’t fucking care how many Ace fucking Anarchy appear to defend you and try to scare the shit out of us, we won’t bow before you. Do you hear me? WE WON’T BOW!”

Simon wasn’t a prodigy. Laura’s powers were creating bubbles. Since when bubbles were dangerous? Since when being able to make them out of thin air was an excuse to kill someone the way they killed his sister?

Before he realized, Freud’s eyes met his.

He had found him.

“No one humiliates me and lives to tell the story, rat.”

Freud opened the door wide, and Simon was ready to be stabbed when a third figure appeared behind the older boy.

“That wasn’t a nice thing to say.”

Freud frowned. He cleaned the blood off his face, and slowly turn around to see the face of the one who dared to defy him. Simon couldn’t help but poke his head over his bully’s shoulder.

He was a blond kid, not older than him. He wore black frame glasses, attached with a piece of tape. His blue eyes looked at Freud with disapproval with which no one had ever dared to look at him.

“Do I know you?” asked Freud after laughing his ass off.

“I’m just saying that, if you have a problem with someone, you report that person with the school’s authorities,” the blonde boy kept saying, ignoring Freud’s question. “It’s not good taking justice into your own hands. It just causes more trouble.”

“Shut up!” Freud screamed as he pushed the blonde boy into the same pond Simon had stepped in a few moments back.

The most surprising thing, however, wasn’t how calm the boy looked when he was facing Freud. It was that he never stopped talking.

“Is that a jackknife?” he asked. Freud looked at the object he carried “Do you take it with you to school? Sharp weapons are not allowed inside school grounds. I’m afraid I’m going to tell a teacher about this.”

Freud cried with hatred and lunged at him, the jackknife ready to kill him. However, the blade broke as soon as it made contact with the blond boy's side.

Before he could process what had just happened, a silver stake sprang out of nowhere and narrowly pierced Freud's shoulder. He managed to move just in time for it to only leave a deep cut.

Simon wouldn’t deny it: Freud almost getting pierced by a stake gave him a morbid sense of satisfaction. His scared, hurt, and confused gaze almost made him cry of pure happiness. How blissful (and relieved) he felt when Freud ran away from the scene.

Just like a scared rat.

The blond boy had dropped shoulders and glasses on the tip of his nose. From his looks, he looked like one of the sons of those businessmen, who lived in those big houses in the northwest of the city. However, his clothes were as old as Simon's. He looked apprehensively at the stake as drops of blood stained his gray sneakers. He didn't see that he had it while he was reading Freud about good behavior, and it was too big to keep in his pockets. It was as if he had created it out of nothing.

And maybe he had.

Immediately, he regained composure and smiled.

“You can go out now!” he exclaimed animatedly. “He's gone”

Didn't he see him standing in that old closet? He was literally in front of him.

As if hearing his thoughts, the blond boy turned to the closet and his face lit up. Simon wanted to run away when he saw him approach with abnormal enthusiasm on his part, but there was nowhere to move.

“Amazing!” the boy yelled. He looked in all directions and muttered, “You are like me.”

“Sorry?”

“Don't be scared, I'm with you,” he whispered. “My name is Hugh.”

He held out his hand. Simon accepted it out of sheer courtesy.

“How old are you?”

“Eight.”

“I had never met a prodigy my age.”

“I am not a prodigy,” Simon clarified.

Hugh's smile froze.

“But I just saw you use your powers.”

“I run very fast to run away from the gangsters,” he said sarcastically. “It comes naturally.”

He gave a loud laugh. Making him laugh was not his intention at all.

“No, I am talking about the other power.”

“What other power?”

“That you turn invisible!”

Hugh quickly covered his mouth and Simon released his hand. He hadn't realized all the time he had been holding it until now. Hugh had a very strong grip.

“Sorry, it was not my intention to shout it,” he mumbled. “I know that sometimes it is better to go unnoticed.”

“Have you stabbed someone else?”

His smile disappeared for a moment.

“I usually don’t do that.”

He did not believe him. There were times when people sometimes had to do things to survive that they were not proud of. But, well, Hugh could continue lying to himself. It was not his job to get him out of his bubble.

“Freud deserved that and more.”

Hugh looked up to protest, but instead said:

“You’ve done it again!”

To hell with this.

Simon raised his arms to push him away, just to realize he was wrong: Hugh was not crazy.

His hands... his entire body was completely invisible.

He moved his fingers and felt the movement. Then his legs. The atmosphere seemed to distort slightly every time he moved. He blinked hard, hoping that when he opened his eyes again, he would realize that it was all a dream, and he was lying down, with his sister preparing to take him to school.

However, he opened them and his sister was not there. He guessed then, neither did his mother.

It was just him and Hugh.

This can’t be true.

His mother and Laura were the only prodigies in the family. They always knew that there was a possibility that Simon was a prodigy too, but after a certain time, they began to realize that he wasn't. Before she died, his mother said she hoped the baby wasn't a prodigy, either. It was best for everyone.

Now, his family's worst nightmares had come true. How was he going to explain to his father what had just happened? How was he going to react? Was he going to kick his son out of the house? If that happened, where would he go? What was to become of him?

He was panicking, and Hugh wouldn't stop looking at him like he was a Christmas present under the tree. That didn’t help.

His hands appeared.

“Your power is so cool,” said Hugh.

“I swear to you, this is the first time I've done this,” he whispered.

Again, the frozen smile.

“Are you serious?”

“Completely serious.”

Hugh adjusted his glasses, shocked.

“I'm sorry,” he said awkwardly.

“Why?”

“Because ... this is not how origin stories should be,” he replied.

Oh, that.

“It doesn't matter,” he replied. He wasn’t lying, the topic never concerned him. However, now he had the feeling that he should be concerned.

“I've seen you at school,” said Hugh, trying to change the subject.

“Yes, I am the rat,” he blurted out angrily.

Hugh shook his head.

“I wasn't going to say that. You're Simon Westwood,” he corrected him. “You're Laura Westwood's brother. She worked at the pawnshop.”

“I was her brother,” he corrected.

“You are her brother.”

Simon did not want to continue arguing. He had already realized that it was not worth trying to win an argument over that guy.

“Did you create that stake?” he asked. “I mean, out of the blue?”

“Yes…” he replied showing him the stake. “I'm not proud. It's just that sometimes when someone attacks me like that, they just... appear? Like a defense mechanism or something. But I'm working on it.”

“What is it made of?”

“Chromium. That’s what my auntie says.”

Simon looked at the stake. There it was again, that morbid feeling…

“I've never seen a prodigy using their powers for good,” said Simon thoughtfully.

“I didn't do something good,” Hugh replied. “I almost killed someone”

Laura would have said, “Please, a shoulder injury doesn't kill anyone.” But Simon said:

“You would have done the right thing killing him.”

“What did he do to you?”

Oh, boy, what he hadn't done to him.

The insults, the teasing. Although, the beating was something new. Freud must have been bored of not receiving any reaction with the verbal attacks, so they evolved into physical attacks. The first was after Laura's funeral.

How crazy do you have to be to do that to someone who had just lost his sister?

That had been going on for two weeks now, and Simon put up with it, just like before. But he was never going to allow anyone to mess with her family.

“He said Laura deserved it,” he replied.

Hugh went silent.

He heard a pair of thunder in the distance.

“We should go to our houses,” Simon said.

He stood up and went to the street. Freud's jackknife was on the ground. The blade was next to the red, plastic handle. He took both of them very carefully and put them back together. It wasn't tight at all and surely was going to break in the slightest attempt to cut something or attack someone, but it was still menacing.

Without much thought, he picked it up and put it in his pocket. Just in case.

“Hey,” Hugh called out, still sitting in the closet. Simon turned to see “Where do you live?”

“Over there,” and pointed to his right.

Hugh smiled again. He hadn't realized he had dimples on his cheeks. Surely they had formed it after giving away so many smiles.

“What a coincidence,” he said. “Me too”.

Then Simon smiled back at him. It was an honest smile.

When was the last time he had smiled like that?

#renegades #renegades trilogy #archenemies #supernova #simon westwood #hugh everhart #fanfic #ao3 #the origins

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years ago

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 96

James could suck the exhaust pipe of the van for all Keith cared. Werewolves were huge, far bigger than the normal family dog or what most people thought. Yet with all that size came zero brain cells. Keith in a huff, not able to stop thinking of Lance and slightly murderous thanks to James loudly mocking him for his “Breeder Boyfriend”. So much for not making a fucking thing out of it, and you know, not putting Lance in extra danger. Sure. He smelt like Lance, before he’d been sprayed top to bottom with that horrible floral crap he and Shiro had used on their scent last time, but if their positions were reversed, Keith wouldn’t be attempting to humiliate him through his boyfriend. He knew it was his name that made James mad... and that he was so close to Shiro, but that wasn’t his fault. He never ever wanted the extra attention.

Worried about his boyfriend’s behaviour, Coran was going to have Curtis check in and maybe stay with Lance. Keith felt like it was something else than birthday blues because he knew birthday depression far too well. He wished he could get Lance out of his mind. Being mad a James helped with that, but that anger was mostly about his comments about Lance, so his mind kept drifting back to his boyfriend as he triple checked his snipers scope. He understood why Coran told him to be extra careful before he left. Vampires had their own set of rules, not terribly considerate towards hunters in that respect. Maybe he really has become soft working here, and actually feeling appreciated for himself. Training his scope onto the recon team, things slowly dissolved to shit as shots rang out. They’d supposed to get the lay of the land and decide from there whether to engage with the werewolves and continue surveillance, the mission plan was basic about the initial components, but being discovered so soon to arriving and in the middle of the freakin’ day was not planned. The first surveillance team had like no contact with the targets. They’d pretty much hadn’t seen anything, and they’d been watching from sun up until relief. Even if it did give them the advantage, some wank stain had ruined everything with that first shot

“Open up the roofs, get us some light in there”

In other words fire a dozen shots into the steel roofing over their target buildings.

There were three target buildings in the shipyard. Keith think he’d thought about there actually be a ship yard in Platt, seeing it was Platt, but the actual words for a place where they constructed ship parts escaped him. Other than the sea of buildings, truck yards, trucks and about 20,000 shipping containers to hide between... they couldn’t shut down the docks without raising suspicion, so instead power for 15 city blocks had gone down with press releases that the problem was being worked on. The Blades didn’t fuck around. Everything outside the mission was null and void until they came back. He shouldn’t be sitting there wondering if Lance would have shot someone’s balls off if he’d been in Keith’s position, no matter if it brought a smile to his face at the thought. Taking aim, he fired at the roof of the closest building, as it was breeched by agents. There were more Blades here than he’d seen in Platt in the whole time since Kolivan waltzed in.

“Explosive device recovered... fall back. Teams X, R, M, rerouting”

Explosives were usually a Blade thing when evidence needed to disappear. Keeping the communication clipped, it failed to warn him it was discovered on a rooftop some 50metres from his position. He didn’t know he was supposed to run until the screams of an unfortunate Blade member filled his ears and huge explosion went off towards the gates of the yard. With the roof blown sky high, Keith was gathering up his rifle and running, before a second device triggered... then the third, this time taking off the side of a storage shed. If that didn’t scream “motherfucking setup”, then Keith didn’t know what did. Nearly clear of the roof, the roofing beneath his feet shifted, Keith losing his step and nearly getting himself killed as he fell off the side of the building and onto a pile of electrical reels... which really hurt. He was getting in mentally before the mocking started. Lance would have a hundred puns to annoy him with after he punched him in the dick for nearly getting hurt.

Being winded saved him as the barred windows to the left and right of the reels blew outwards, glass, concrete and metal showering over him. Had he been getting to his feet, he’d have taken the shrapnel head on, not copping parts second hand as the reels went up in flames. Lance was going to be pissed. You only went after roofs when you knew someone was hiding there or you suspected snipers... Fuck. He had to move and pull back. Something else had been blown up and the air stank from burning things that shouldn’t be burnt. Gathering up his rifle, he was half crash tackled before being pulled along towards the front gate. The mysterious figure was dressed in black, yet he instantly knew they weren’t a Blade member.

Short of the collective of hunter’s, they reached another figure dressed in all black. Hunching over to catch his breath, the first figure who’d pulled him along cackled

“Look at him. Human’s really aren’t good for anything”

Narti?! What the fuck?

“Careful. We need to fall back”

And Ezor? Or was it Zethrid? Which was the tall one again?

“But I wanna take him home”

“This place holds no leads for us. Leave him to return with the human”

Narti crossed her arms

“That’s enough, Ezor. Narti will be mad we meddled as it is”

Ohhh... not Narti... that actually kind of made him feel better... Narti was the grumpy one... Ezor wanted to have fun. He needed to remember that

“Fiiiine”

Ezor licked the pad of her gloved thumb, before reaching and rubbing at spot on his mask

“Good as new. Right. Off you run”

Keith found his voice. He couldn’t let the two of them run off when they knew something

“Wai-...”

“Don’t go getting emotional on us little Keefy. I know you want to join us, but you’re a human and we have a strict no humans allowed rule. Until next time”

With that the pair of them were off, heading back towards the chaos. Feeling every bit of his bruised body, Keith started limping over to where the hurt hunters were getting immediate medical treatment. Had Lotor sold them out? Or was he following them? What the fuck was going on? And where the fuck was Shiro? He was going to kill him very slowly if he’d gotten himself killed.

The clean up was worse than falling off the roof. Why the didn’t have a back up team in the sewer system Keith didn’t know, because that’s how their pray had escaped. Right down the jagged hole middle of the building... and of course the arseholes had taken everything with them. It was a mess he was glad he didn’t have to deal with. Fuck being in Kolivan or Krolia’s shoes right now. He didn’t even want to be in his own shoes. He’d traded his sniper rifle for a pair of hand guns, but there really wasn’t anything to do... because thankfully he wasn’t a werewolf with an overdeveloped sense of smell. Ezor and Zethrid weighed on his mind, he hadn’t the chance to tell anyone he’d seen them there, and Shiro was too busy first with the mission, then fussing over him.

Leaving the cleanup crew still working, Keith was still late to Lance’s birthday dinner. Shiro was late too, but that was okay because he wasn’t dating Lance. Between getting back to VOLTRON, showering, changing, and not being able to talk to Coran thanks to the fae being busy as fuck with the Blades mess, he was still late. Heading into the restaurant with Shiro, Curtis was the first to notice, out of his seat and throwing his arms around Shiro within moments of his noticing him.

Lance was sitting with Pidge in his lap, there was a smile on his lips that didn’t turn genuine until he set his eyes on Keith. The warmth in his smile and the relief in his eyes. That was everything he needed after what’d happened. Keith felt like walking bag of bruises that Lance wouldn’t be happy about. It was a shame Coran and Allura weren’t there, but Lance was and that was all he cared about.

Shooing Pidge out his lap, Pidge grumbled over being evicted. Lance reaching for him, and Keith nearly tripped over his own feet in his rush to get to his boyfriend. There had to be rules about two people sitting in the same seat, this wasn’t like Sal’s or at a pub, the place was fancy, but their table was slightly hidden by a jutting room divider. Sinking into his boyfriend’s hold, Lance slipped his arm around his waist, his lips finding Keith’s with practiced ease. Sharing three small kisses, ending as Keith hissed over his scratched lips. Now he was sitting, he wasn’t sure he had the energy to ever get up again. His boyfriend smelt so nice. A little sweet, and little muddly, but comfortingly like him.

Nuzzling into his cheek, Keith expected Pidge to carry on or tease them for being “gross”. Curtis must have filled them all in the mission going sideways. Softly, Lance asked

“Babe?”

“I’m okay...”

He was ready for bed... Cake, Lance and bed. Lance, cake, Lance, and bed sounded better. Or Lance and cake in bed...

“You sure? Curtis...”

“Yeah. A bit shell shocked and bruised but so much better for being here”

Lance kissed his cheek

“I’m not going to be happy later, am I?”

“Mmmm, maybe not, but I’m in one piece and I didn’t take direct damage. I’ll be fine, I promise you, babe”

His ears weren’t ringing and he had both eyebrows so that was a win.

“Okay. You’ve had your time to talk. Now tell us about this mission of yours”

Matt scooched his chair closer. Shiro groaned at him. With him and Curtis sitting down, the seating arrangement around the table was Lance, Miriam, Pidge, Rieva, Matt, Hunk, Shiro, Curtis, with the chair closest to Lance left open for him, though that had probably already been used by Pidge until he arrived. Curtis explained

“Vampires blew up the depot. You know the transport and manufacturing depot. Yeah, well, their going to have a hell of time explaining that away. Though I suppose with the power black out they’ll say some compound became unstable from lack of refrigeration. It makes Allura’s, Lance’s, and Keith’s previous mission pretty void for now. Werewolves have been deployed to scent track”

Mami was the first to voice her worry

“Oh my dear! Neither of you were hurt were you?”

Pidge a little less sensitive in her worries

“Dude, did you get blown up?”

Shiro shook his head, Keith content with no explaining... though it niggled at him not to mention Zethrid and Ezor. He’d talk to Coran about it. He was more tactful with handling this kind of thing, plus Keith kind of feared being scolded by Kolivan for receiving help from the “enemy”

“No. A few other members were injured. I thought we lost Keith, but he’d already drawn back”

Shit. Lance would worry

“They gave the order to. I didn’t think we’d be worrying about being blown up after nothing happening on first shift. They must have used the time from the moment they detected us to that shot firing to retreat. But we’re both okay, Mami. You don’t need to worry”

“As my son, I’m afraid I do. Do you know long it look Lance to bring home such a nice catch? I was beginning to believe I’d be dead before it happened”

Lance scolded his Mami

“Mami! You can’t say things like that”

Miriam laughing it off

“Consider it a perk of being old. They give you the good stuff when they think you’re a bit nutty. Now, we didn’t order for you two boys, and by the sound of it you both need a good meal and rest”

Matt snickered

“I doubt Keith’s going to be getting any of that”

Keith was now sure he was missing something. His anxiety started curling in his gut. This was why he hated being late. He hated feeling like he was on the outside

“Okay. No more picking on Keith. Babe, I’ll tell you later. Mami’s right. You need to eat something. I’m happy you came home safe”

“Yeah. Me too...”

Pidge finally butting in

“And now you’re being gross again. This is supposed to be a nice dinner to celebrate Lance. You’ve got witnesses”

Keith forced himself to slide from Lance’s lap to the empty chair. Ordering felt like too much effort

“Careful, gremlin. I’ve got stories of my own remember”

Pidge scowled at Lance

“I’m going to find a way to make you forget all those embarrassing stories”

Lance picked up his wine glass, mischief in his eye

“I’d like to see you try. Your mother’s potted plants came straight to mind”

“Ugh! I hate you... Matt, Lance is being mean”

“You’re the one who tried to spray paint mum’s plants so she couldn’t tell you’d killed them”

Keith sucked in his lips, trying not to bark out a laugh lest he also be accused of betraying her. He could see Pidge doing that so clearly... or trying to frame Matt for it. Grabbing her knife she faked stabbing herself in the heart, letting herself fall forward dramatically as she whispered

“I’ve been betrayed by both of you. Run, Keith, take Hunk. Be free!”

Flopped on the table, Matt poked at her

“Right. Well, I call dibs on her piece of cake”

Miraculously Pidge was revived

“Touch me piece of cake and I’ll tell Rieva how you couldn’t sleep with your light off until you were 15”

Matt was unruffled

“Seeing you already have, your piece is now forfeit”

“Noooo... Shiro, is there like a training collar for werewolves? I’m going to have to teach him to respect his little sister”

“Notice how you only refer to yourself like that when you’re trying to win me over”

“You can’t be mean! I’m a poor defenceless human”

“Defenceless my left testicle. You’re as defenceless as a barbed wire fence with the personality to match”

“If anything Lance is the “steely” one”

Lance raised an eyebrow

“If I’m so steely, why is it that my home was invaded by a cow today? Pidge, we know you better than to know you won’t go for a kick to balls if you’re cornered. Matt, stop upsetting the gremlin. She can have cake, but only before midnight”

“Why before midnight?”

The words slipped right out, their friends laughing at him... including Mami. Obviously it was some kind of pop culture reference he wasn’t getting. At least Lance was nice enough to comfort him

“Oh, babe. You’re exhausted. We’ll watch the movie when we next get a free weekend”

“Which won’t be for another two weeks”

Lance groaned, cheeks red and hunching down as he did

“Maaaaatt. Shut up”

“Why another two weeks?”

Lance spluttered, replying too fast

“Oh, you know, work and stuff. Stop teasing him before I talk to him about it”

“Fine. But on a serious note, you’re prepared right?”

“Curtis helped me out this afternoon”

“Good. Keith, make sure you take care of him”

He’d had enough of being confused

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Thanks, guys. Babe, come order with me. I’ll order for you too, Shiro, while I’m at it. You all suck”

Keith didn’t know “ordering” meant a trip to the men’s room. Lance splashing his face with water as Keith hung back towards the door. Catching his gaze in the mirror, Lance smiled at him, though it was one of those faked smiles that should be banned

“Sorry. Matt’s been like this all afternoon”

“You want to tell me what’s going on? I haven’t been able to get out my head how you looked at me when I left”

Lance ducked his head, turning off the tap, that blush was sneaking back in

“I... uh... okay. So don’t be mad, and you totally don’t have to be there if you don’t want to... I... um... I’m preheat”

What the what now?

“Preheat?”

“You know how werewolves get horny in spring but before that they’re all like super affectionate and make sure they’re well stocked and safe? Yeah, I’m that”

“You haven’t been preheat before. You kind of just go into heat”

Lance huffed. Turning, he crossed his arms and stared at his feet

“Thank you, Captain Obvious. Curtis came by earlier because you’d talked to Coran and we kind of figured it out together. I drank your blood like 3ish months ago... I’m either pregnant or preheat... and seeing we use protection... well... yeah. Matt reckons he smelt it on me. Rieva agrees. My... uh... scent’s sweeter and stronger ‘cause apparently my body is trying to tell you I need looking after and stuff. Look, I was going to tell you at the hotel, but Matt hasn’t stopped teasing me and it’s not fair you don’t know. He told the others were having a romantic week together... but I’m not forcing you to be there. I mean, we don’t know how long it will last and can you please say something because I’m kind of freaking the fuck out and embarrassed as hell about how I acted last time”

“So this is a thing?”

Smooth. Real smooth. A heat was better than a baby... but a proper heat... Hadn’t he had a long enough day as it was? Now he was being unfair to Lance

“Yep. Surprise”

And Lance sounded resigned

“I... Okay. Neither of us know much about this really and honestly I’m pretty much asleep on my feet and the only thinking happening isn’t much. But you can’t act like I don’t want to be there with you”

“And you can’t act like I didn’t freak you the fuck out last time. You went through that all for me! When do I finally get to do something for you!? It isn’t fair! I hate this body of mine. I just want to be a good boyfriend!”

Lance covered his mouth. Keith kind of felt like punching him in the dick. If Lance could tell, so could he!

“Why do you have to be like that? You can’t help it!”

“Because I’m this! This is me! What I want is to go back to you living with me and none of this other shit even happening! You’re too fucking good to me!”

“You’re the good one! I woke up this morning and realised I hadn’t even gotten a present!”

“I don’t need a present! All I want is you!”

“It’s your birthday!”

“And all I wanted was to be with you!”

“I’m here now! Again!”

“And I don’t want to leave at the end of it!”

“Then why are you yelling?!”

Keith spluttered

“I don’t know! You yelled back at me!”

“I was yelling because you were yelling! I miss living with you!”

“And I miss having you around! I miss it! I miss it and I can’t change it because I won’t put you in danger... I can’t lose you”

Both of them stared at each other, Keith moving at the same time as Lance... more or less crashing into each other than a romantic moment. Wrapping his arms around Lance, Lance held onto his jacket

“I miss you, Keith. I know I’m supposed to be the cool older one... but sometimes it hard to go home”

As hard as it was to go back to “normal” life while Lance wasn’t around

“I miss you too. You’re like... the good thing in my life I still can’t believe I have... I... confession time, Shiro helped me with your present”

“Confession time, I don’t mind. We’re working out this boyfriend thing together... I’m haunted by the memories of things I’ve written in cards”

That seemed to be a common theme. Keith wasn’t too sure about what he’d written in Lance’s card

“Shiro said the same thing this morning”

“I’m far too much on his wavelength”

“Bad taste in music. Odd taste in men. A constant need to talk thing out...”

“Don’t forget I care about you. I don’t want people caught up in this that shouldn’t be. I’m ruggedly handsome and mysterious... Um. I... care about you”

“You said that twice”

Lance sighed against him

“I really do. When Curtis said things went south my heart nearly stopped. Three months isn’t long enough... not to be around you. Not to know you...”

Lance was being too adorable and too sweet. Keith couldn’t lie to him about today

“I’m okay... Don’t tell Shiro but I fell off a roof and was saved by a pile of electrical cable spools”

“Babe!”

“And then Ezor saved me. She was there with Zethrid”

“Keith! What the hell!?”

“I don’t know why they were there, probably poking into the same things as us...”

“God. Why can’t you Blades be bloody careful!?”

“I was falling back when it happened... does that count?”

“Yes, but, babe... are you sure you’re okay? Did you hit your head? Do you know where you are?”

“I’m in some weird restaurant with some weird guy?”

“That isn’t funny!”

Lance was in tears now. He’d teased him too much. Kissing Lance’s hair, his boyfriend was still clutching him, Keith wondered if the jacket would forever retain the marks from how hard of a grip Lance had on him

“I’m fine. The suit protected me for the most part. The worst I got was a little winded and a few bruises. I’m with my boyfriend, on his birthday, which is the only place I want to be”

“I... You’re not allowed to scare me like that. You’re too important”

“I know. I only had to survive for Shiro before, now I have you... and... maybe I think I want to survive for myself”

“I should punch you in the dick”

It’d be deserved. Lance wore his heart on his sleeve and Keith really loved that about him

“Please don’t”

Lance sniffled softly, still angry despite crying

“Only because it’s you asking... You have to tell Shiro you saw them there. It could be important”

“I’m going to let Coran know”

“And Shiro”

That wasn’t a conversation he relished the thought of

“He’ll worry... How about I tell them together?”

“Fine. As long as you swear you’ll tell them”

“Only because it’s you asking. We should get back”

“I suppose so... I’m so fucking relieved you’re alright”

“I know... me too, babe. I wouldn’t miss being here with you for anything”

“You’re such a fucking sap... but... I really like you. I know it’s your job, and this preheat is making me extra emotional... but... the world is better for having you in it”

What was he supposed to say to that? It was Lance’s birthday but he felt like he was the one who’d been given the best present of his life.

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #ashratherose

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whump-tr0pes · 5 years ago

Text

Honor Bound 2 - 33

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

This is a sequel to Honor Bound.

AO3

Cw: ex-whumper POV, mention of parental death and abuse, fucky (and wrong) thoughts about parental emotional abuse, self-hatred, self-image issues around scars

When Gavin woke in the morning, he had the oddest feeling someone had just been there in the room with him. He looked around blearily, eyes moving around the room, his skin feeling too-tight and warm. Like someone had just touched him. Like he could still feel their hand on his skin.

He rolled to his side, groaning as the motion stretched the still-healing cane marks on his back, and swung his legs off the side of the bed. He scrubbed his eyes with his fists. He felt heavy and slow, exhausted by his night of terrible sleep. Unsettled about the nightmare. Even more so by Isaac’s presence after it.

He didn’t know what to feel about Isaac. What was there to feel about someone good, someone so strong and honest, someone Gavin had hurt so deeply? He still didn’t think he’d broken Isaac. How could he, when he’d seen over and over since he’d found the team how strong Isaac still was? How devoted to his family? To keeping them safe? Broken would have meant Isaac betraying them. Broken would have meant Isaac caring more about keeping himself safe than about his loyalty to them.

Broken couldn’t mean anything else.

But that wasn’t all that Isaac was. He was more than his devotion to his family. So much more than that.

No, Isaac was an entire lifetime of being hurt by the people who should have kept him safe. Isaac was death, and abuse, and pain. Isaac was being trained to be a weapon by the first people to care about him after his dad died. Isaac was desperation. Isaac was protection. Isaac was survival.

Under all that, Isaac was kind.

After everything I’ve done to him, after everything I’ve done to his family, he still sat with me last night. He still came to me when I woke him up with my screaming, and stayed.

I’ve been a fucking monster to him and he still at least acted like he cared.

Gavin rolled his neck, blowing out a slow breath. Isaac could have been faking it. Could have been pretending, putting up with Gavin until he thought he could leave without Gavin waking him up again. He could have been coddling Gavin because he thought Gavin needed that now.

Maybe he thought Gavin was broken now, too. Maybe he thought Gavin was weak.

I mean, shit, I am.

Despite everything he’d been fucking handed in his life, he couldn’t do what Isaac could do. He couldn’t prioritize other people. He couldn’t push through crazy amounts of pain. He couldn’t single-handedly protect an entire family of people, and ask nothing in return. He couldn’t sacrifice himself the way Isaac had. He couldn’t even sacrifice himself for his own mother. Not even to make her happy. Not even after he killed his own dad, or was responsible enough for it that it didn’t matter.

He couldn’t even stop hurting people, even after seeing they were truly fucking good. He couldn’t stop hurting people just because he wanted mommy and daddy to love him.

No. It was more than that. He couldn’t stop hurting people because he fucking liked it, and needed his brain scrambled to make him stop.

After everything Isaac had been through, he’d never become a sadist. After losing both his parents, after being fucking abused by his mother, he still prioritized other people. My parents never abused me. They didn’t exactly love me super well, but they never abused me.

After being handed everything for his entire fucking life, after only giving up torturing people once the pleasure it gave him had been ripped out of his head with Vera’s teeth, Gavin still couldn’t be as good as Isaac. Sometimes he carried around a hate for himself that went so deep it made his bones ache. Sometimes – like now, his hands pressed to his face, his skin aching in all the places he had hurt and battered and broken Isaac – he felt like nothing.

But Isaac?

Isaac was everything.

He shook his head to clear that thought.

Isaac isn’t everything. He’s just one of the first people who’s ever stood up to my bullshit before.

He pushed himself out of bed and stood, swaying for a moment as his head went fuzzy. Ugh. That nightmare fucked me up worse than I thought.

As he crossed to the chest of drawers against the wall, he passed in front of the mirror hanging on the wall. He kept his eyes down like he always seemed to these days. The scars on his face didn’t bother him, he told himself, over and over and over since Isaac had put him in the hospital. Why would they bother him? They made him look sexy. Dangerous. Right?

He ran his hand over his face, his fingers lingering on the slight indentation of a scar across his cheekbone. Across the bridge of his nose. Stretching from the corner of his eye out to his temple. They were so much better than they had been months ago, before the purely cosmetic surgeries had smoothed them out, rearranged his face a little, so it was closer to how it had been before Isaac had fractured Gavin’s skull with his fist.

He lifted his chin and forced himself to look into the mirror. He forced his eyes to move over the lines on his face, the slightest way his left eye pulled a tiny bit higher than the right at the corner, the scar there puckering his skin. He forced himself to look carefully at the damage Isaac had done so he could save Sam. At the damage he’d been forced to do. At the damage he would never have done, otherwise.

That’s because Isaac doesn’t damage people on purpose.

He pulled his sleeping shirt off over his head and turned away from the mirror, averting his eyes from his body. His body that was completely clear of scars. God dammit. God fucking dammit. Why am I so fucking stuck on this this morning?

He pulled a drawer open and reached for the first thing he saw. He pulled the shirt on over his head. He quickly changed his underwear, and his pants. He turned and put his hand on the doorknob.

He took a deep breath. He always needed to steel himself before seeing the others. Whether it was Ellis’s glares or Vera’s snarl whenever she talked to him or Isaac’s fucking fear, he always hated the reactions he caused in the others. He wondered, briefly, how long it would take for them to stop seeing the sadist in him, the torturer. How long it would take for them to start seeing the broken fucking idiot he knew he was now. He stood at the door, wearing clothes the others had bartered for from the people who lived in this little town. Even after everything, they were still clothing him. Feeding him. For the most part, including him. He squeezed his eyes shut. Took another deep breath. Pulled the door open.

Immediately the smell of frying bacon and eggs wafted over him. His stomach growled and he licked his lips, head turning in the direction of the kitchen. He closed his door and padded out into the hall.

As he walked into the kitchen he nearly collided with Edrissa. She squeaked and leaped away from him, all but hiding behind Vera. Vera smirked a little as he walked in and tried to push down her smile.

The whole family was either packed into the kitchen or seated at the barstools that lined the counter looking in, talking gently and laughing. Isaac and Sam were busy at the stove, cooking breakfast like an industrial machine. Tori was toasting an entire loaf of bread in their small toaster, adding the slices to a plate that was already stacked high. Finn and Ellis were squeezing oranges – real oranges, for Christ’s sake – into a massive pitcher on the counter, a slice in each of their mouths, their lips pulled back over them in giant orange grins. Their faces fell for a moment when Gavin walked in.

He ducked his head. “Um. Good… good morning.”

There was a moment of excruciating silence, the only sound coming from the sizzling food on the stove. The toaster popped up, making all of them jump.

“Morning, Gavin,” Gray said gently from their barstool.

Gavin glanced at them, his eyes jerking back down to the floor as he met their eyes. Every time he looked at them, every fucking time, he felt a sharp lance of guilt, worse almost than when he looked at anyone else. He had shot Gray. With his own hand. With his own gun. And Gray had been the first one to pull Isaac off of him when Isaac had nearly killed him at the safehouse. Gray had been the one to let him grieve his father at the funeral. Gray had been the one to kneel next to Sam in the dirt and comfort him with them for everything he’d lost.

He swallowed hard. “Um. Good morning.”

Sam looked over from where they were stirring some scrambled eggs. “Do you, um, want some coffee?”

Gavin’s face flushed with a mix of shame and gratitude. “Um. Yeah. Thank you. Um…” He lifted his eyes to look around the kitchen. “I could have, um. I’m sorry. I would have, uh, helped, with breakfast, I just didn’t…”

“It’s okay,” Isaac said from where he stood over the pan of bacon. “We wanted to let you sleep. You had a rough night.”

Gavin’s face blushed a furious red. He stared down at the floor, his eyes watering with the depth of his embarrassment. “Oh.” He glanced up in time to catch a look between Isaac and Vera, something on both their faces that he couldn’t read. “Um. Thank you.”

“Now that you’re here, though, lazy-ass, you can set the table.” Vera passed Gavin a stack of plates and silverware.

Gavin’s fingers fumbled and he nearly dropped the stack. Isaac told them all about my fucking nightmare. He told them I have nightmares about Vera. He told them I’m so fucking weak I asked him to stay, I asked him to stay, why the fuck did I do that…?

He swallowed, looking up at Vera with a hint of terror in his eyes. “Okay.” He walked out of the kitchen to the dining room and set the plates in front of each chair around the two long tables the family had pushed together, end to end. His skin prickled with humiliation as he tried desperately not to imagine everyone’s eyes on his back, imagining them smirking about his nightmare and his fear. He straightened the knives and forks until they were perfectly spaced around the plates, dreading every moment before he would have to face them all around the table, their eyes averted from him, their voices hushed around him…

Ellis walked by him carrying the pitcher of juice in one hand and some cups in the other. Finn carried some more cups in both hands. Gray came after them, carrying only their own cup. I remember where I shot them. Their wound was worse than mine.

He walked past the steady stream of the whole family as they filed into the dining room, carrying huge plates of eggs and bacon and toast, laughing, making plans for the day. It’s Sunday, Gavin remembered. That’s why they were eating breakfast together like this. They’d done it that way last Sunday, too. And the Sunday before that.

He walked back into the kitchen to get his own cup of coffee. I should just grab my plate and eat in here. They don’t want to fucking see me. They won’t want me around. Jesus fucking Christ, I wouldn’t want me around… He froze when he realized he was alone in the kitchen with Isaac.

Gavin’s throat got tight with panic and shame as he made his way to the coffee maker. For a moment, he considered turning around and going to his room with his coffee, to emerge when everyone was done. He hoped there would be leftovers.

“What?”

Gavin turned and saw Isaac staring right at him.

Fuck.

Isaac cocked his head, a strange look on his face. “What?” he repeated.

What if I just fucking jumped out the window? I wouldn’t have to talk to him then.

“Um…” Gavin’s voice was shaking. The window was sounding like a better and better idea. “Uh…”

“I didn’t tell them,” Isaac said gently.

The mug in Gavin’s hand clattered to the counter.

Isaac’s eyes flicked to Gavin’s hand and back up to his face.

“Um…” Gavin’s voice broke. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “W-why not?”

Isaac leaned back against the counter, his eyebrows pulling together. “Why would I?”

“Uh…” The window was right there. “Because… um…”

“I told Vera. But only because I thought it would make her feel better around you.”

Gavin’s face fell into his hands. “Oh, fuck. Oh, no.”

A soft laugh. “She’s not mad.”

“She doesn’t have to be mad, now that she knows, she… she…” Gavin heaved a deep breath. “Oh, fuck.” His head snapped up, a sudden question burning on his tongue. “Did you tell them you… um…”

“...stayed?” Isaac’s gaze was steady on Gavin’s face.

Gavin dropped his head forward. “Yeah.”

Isaac was quiet for so long Gavin thought maybe he hadn’t heard him. He looked up and Isaac was looking at the floor, biting his lip. After another moment, he shook his head. “No.”

“Oh.” Vague relief washed through Gavin’s limbs.

Isaac looked up at him again. He licked his lips. “You know we aren’t all… waiting for a reason to kick you out, right? Or… or kill you, or something?”

Gavin let out a hysterical peal of laughter. “What?”

Isaac rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean… If you betray us, yeah, we’ll kill you, but…” He waved his hand in the general direction of the dining room. “We aren’t… I mean…” He sighed. “We aren’t all… out to get you, Gavin. We’re not…”

...like me.

“Ellis hates me,” Gavin whispered. “And Vera. And Edrissa. And I understand—”

“Vera doesn’t hate you,” Isaac said.

Gavin scoffed. “Yeah she—”

“She’s my best friend,” Isaac said, his eyes back on Gavin’s face. “I know her better than you do. She doesn’t hate you. She’s wary of you, she’s definitely in line to kill you if you betray us, but she doesn’t hate you.”

“But I—”

“Gavin…” Isaac pinched the bridge of his nose. “Will you stop being a dumbass for all of two fucking seconds and stop trying to convince me we should all want you dead? We have plenty of reason to, okay? We don’t need you to convince us.”

Gavin’s mouth snapped shut.

Isaac drew in a deep breath. “Look. This is a weird fucking situation, okay? I get it. Probably weirder for us than it is for you.”

I doubt that.

“But after what you said last night…” Gavin’s face flushed red again at Isaac’s words. Isaac leaned back against the counter. “I didn’t...” Isaac shook his head. “I didn’t know all that. About your parents. About the nightmares. I didn’t realize you, um…” Isaac fell silent. “Anyway. It just… gave me a lot to think about.”

“So… what did you tell them?” Gavin’s voice shook.

Isaac shrugged. “I told them you had a rough night, we talked, and I don’t think you’re gonna hurt us.”

Gavin’s eyes went wide. “You told them we talked?”

Isaac’s eyes narrowed. “Why wouldn’t you want them to know that?”

Because if they know we talked they’ll think I’m fucking lying to you. That I’ve tricked you somehow.

Or maybe they’ll think other things. Gavin wasn’t sure exactly he was scared about the team thinking about what he’d said to Isaac, but… His gut burned faintly with dread.

“I just…” Gavin licked his lips. “I’m just… worried… they won’t trust me.”

“Fuck, Gavin, I don’t think I trust you. But… I do a little more. Now. I guess.”

Gavin’s face fell into his hands. “Oh. Fuck, I… Fuck. I don’t know what to think. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you up.”

Isaac was quiet for a moment. “This… whatever this is…” Gavin’s head snapped up and he saw Isaac gesturing between Gavin and the dining room. His heart stuttered. “...will be a lot easier if I can trust you, Gavin. I don’t know if I can. Or if I… if I should. But I’m glad we talked last night. I’m glad I know all that about your parents.” A grin flashed across his face. “I’m glad I know you’re scared of Vera.”

“Who fucking wouldn’t be?” Gavin muttered under his breath. He sagged back against the counter.

Isaac chuckled. “Hell, I’m scared of her.” He shrugged. “We should get to the table. They won’t wait for us and I want there to be food left.” He pushed himself away from the counter and left the kitchen.

Gavin groaned and pressed his face into his hands, bracing his elbows up against the counter.

Isaac wants to trust me.

Gavin’s chest ached. He wanted Isaac to trust him, more than he wanted almost anything else.

Continued here

@untilthepainstarts, @womping-grounds, @free-2bmee, @quirkykayleetam, @walkingchemicalfire, @inpainandsuffering, @redwingedwhump, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @insomniacscoprio, @cursedscribbles, @whumpywhumper, @stxck-fxck, @omega-em-z-02, @whumps-the-word, @slaintetowhump, @finder-of-rings, @cinnamonflavoredhugs, @thatsthewhump, @im-just-here-for-the-whump, @orchidscript

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make-it-mavis · 4 years ago

Text

Homesick (Entry #34)

(cw: discussion of addiction) ----------

01/22/88 11:56 AM

Hey.

I left off the last entry at a very tense moment. What you might call a cliffhanger.

Well, I’ll tell you this. I certainly did feel like I was dangling off the edge of a deadly cliff, hanging onto bare roots that could have broken away at any moment, debating whether or not to grab onto the rope thrown down to me by a rescue crew that just so happened to include my attempted murderer. There were so many things that could have gone wrong.

Many of those things, granted, could have been caused by my own hand, and I knew it. I may not have known what to do, but I knew for certain what I wanted to do. I wanted to leap across the room and tear that bug apart joint by joint. I wanted to shatter her exoskeleton and use the shards to cut her into ribbons. I wanted to cause her every bit of pain she had caused me. And part of me -- a very dangerously large part of me -- believed that it might have been fate that brought us together. Like I was meant to take this chance for revenge.

After all, it’s not every day the Devs offer you your enemy on a silver platter. I had been through enough pain by then -- I deserved a chance to pay it back. An awful lot of it had been her fault, hadn’t it?

That fact boiled over in my brain, every popping bubble releasing another memory of what she had put me through. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. I just sat there, letting the frothing memories burn painfully, and grasping onto that pain like a concealed weapon. My broken brush. Your name on my chest. My legs torn to shreds. The humiliation. The nightmares. The paranoia. The violent buff hallucinations. The crushing fear that fed my addiction and landed me in that sad circle of addicts. It was all her doing.

Yet, for all that fear, she was just there, existing like a normal sprite. Not a disembodied hellish shriek of hatred, not the cruel hand of death that let me slip through its fingers, no. She was just some bug. Some other loser who had popped one too many power-ups.

It was striking to me, how she could be so mortal.

Listen, I’ve said this a thousand times -- I don’t really wanna hurt anybody. But during that session, part of me wondered if I just didn’t have a reason to hurt anybody. Because a big ol’ reason was plopped right in front of me that night, and… I think I would have killed her right there, if they let me. I wanted to wipe her from existence.

Obviously, I did not do that.

I actually made it through the session without even realizing. I did not absorb anything much, and I had not spoken at all, but I think I got a free pass for it being my first time. I was also very concerned that it would be my last. How could I be expected to attend therapy with that monster?

I didn’t mention it to Surge on the way back, and I did not tell Fix-it at first either, even though he could tell I was shaken up by something. I’d been staying with him for a little while by then, as odd as that might seem. He was keeping an eye on me while I recovered, and while it was not the most comfortable thing for me, I was nervous to be alone with how much I’d been blacking out. But that night, I needed space, so I went up to the roof of Niceland to pace around and weigh what little options I had.

Option one was to simply attend and ignore her, which I wrote off as impossible. Option two would be to quit, which I refused to do. Option three would be to reach out for help, finally telling someone of the attack I suffered at this bug’s creepy hand, which I was not eager to do. Option four was to brutally maim her and be locked up for life. It was amazing, really, how long I spent debating option four, yelling curses into the sky and pulling my hair out. Hours of heart-pounding anxiety went by as I paced between the decision to quit and the decision to maim, until I found myself sitting down and breathing into my hat, nursing a panic attack, trying not to let it remind me of my last night with you.

I’d been up almost all night by the time I’d come to a decision. My decision was… I couldn’t trust myself to make a good decision. Not after everything I’d done.

So I’d have to ask for help. Option three.

Still was not a fan.

All the same, that was the route I took. Surge seemed like the right guy to tell, but it was not like I could leave my game and flag him down, and I couldn’t keep the raging conflict to myself a moment longer. So I went back inside and rode the elevator down to Fix-it’s apartment. He was asleep when I came in, but I sat on his bed and viciously poked him until he woke up.

Now, I don’t really wanna bore you by recounting that whole conversation. You’ve heard me tell the story of my attack already. And it was actually easier for me to open up about it than I thought it’d be. Once upon a time, it felt like such a big deal to keep it a secret. But that felt like such a long time ago. Something had changed.

I wasn’t really sure if I was coming to trust Fix-it a bit more than I did before, or if it had more to do with the fact that by then, the night I was attacked was no longer the lowest point of my journey. He had seen me sink way lower already. So… I guess I had just become forcefully accustomed to having him see me at my most pathetic.

Is that what trust is?

Fix-it, however, took it like a blubbering baby. In fact, I’m pretty sure he did most of the talking while I just held the tissue box for him. He asked the same questions over and over, which I got bored of answering, but did anyway. He was horrified. He was outraged. He could not believe anyone would do something like that to me, or to anybody. And he suddenly understood so much more clearly why I’d turned to buffs, if I had been keeping a secret as horrible as that. The fact that I’d been carrying that alone for so long seemed to thoroughly break his heart.

My favorite question he asked me was, “Mavis, for the Devs’ sake, just how many near-death experiences have you had this year?”

I sort of laughed at that, which he didn’t like. “Year’s not out yet,” I told him.

“No,” he scolded me, in genuine distress, “don’t say that!”

It was a long, trying process. But I’ll admit that I came out of it feeling kind of lighter. Maybe I was more relieved to get it off my chest than I thought I would be. He sure did thank me thoroughly for telling him, even as he wept in horror.

I did still have to make a decision. Even though Fix-it did want me to go to therapy, the idea of me attending with her terrified him. I wasn’t sure if he was more scared of what she’d do or what I’d do. In any case, he made a feeble effort to make two-years confinement seem like not the worst alternative. He grasped at all kinds of ideas of what we could do to make it enjoyable and productive, even conducting therapy himself. As if he had not been attempting that for the last 4-ish years.

No. Quitting did not feel like an option for me. I would just have to talk to Surge and see what he could offer me.

Not much at all, it turned out.

I was able to have a conversation with Surge that day in my game’s cord station. He was decidedly less emotional about it than Fix-it had been. He barely seemed surprised. I reminded him of the day he helped me across Game Central when I was torn to shreds, and he remembered it well. As I told him the rest of the story, he took notes on his clipboard, only nodding and asking the occasional question. When I finished, I guess I was hoping he’d tell me that he would arrest Worluk and pull her out of therapy, so justice could be served.

That’s not what he told me. Quite the opposite.

He said he believed me, but one sprite’s word is not enough to go on for an arrest, especially for attempted murder. And especially if all I could identify her by was her voice. If I had any evidence or witnesses then it might have been a different story, but I sure did not. That was hardly my fault, though, was it? I was ambushed alone. I didn’t choose to have no witnesses. It made me so angry, I wanted to throttle the bastard. Even more so when he suggested that I wait until Worluk was done her required therapy and then begin mine. That could have taken two years anyway, for all I knew!

He did offer me this: He would hire an extra security guard, and make sure all three of them knew to keep an eye on her. It wasn’t much at all, but it was something, at least.

So, that was it. I knew all my options, and barely any of them actually helped me. If I wanted to get help, I had only one real choice.

I had to help myself. I had to REALLY give it my all.

I had to march right into therapy and roll with the punches. It just so happened that punching and screaming had gotten me nowhere over the past couple months. As badly as I wanted to rip Worluk to shreds, I was painfully aware that doing so would solve nothing. It would only land me in deeper trouble than I was in already. So, as impossible as it seemed, and as agonizing as it felt to go against my instincts, it was time to keep my mouth shut and keep my hands to myself. Time for the aforementioned ‘Option one’ that I had also called impossible --

Just deal with it.

With this new mile-high hurdle in place, my second session came sooner than I’d have liked. I mean sure, I could have postponed it, but to what end? Whether I liked it or not, it’d be over sooner if I started sooner. That’s what I kept telling myself. Just go, get it over with.

I arrived at that tiny room in Pac-man as I had before. I sat down in the same spot. It seemed like everyone who was present for the last visit also came that day. Everything seemed to pick up exactly where it left off. Except this time, there were, as Surge promised, three buff guys from Front Line observing from the corners, and my sickening anxiety came less from the program itself and more from the pressure to behave as if my mortal enemy was not sitting in the same circle of folding chairs as me.

Before long, the group was going around in a circle and talking about what step they were on in the twelve step program. Their insights, their struggles, their epiphanies, and all that. I tried my best to listen over the screaming in my brain, but it was deafening. All in response to that one freakin’ bug just sitting there. Just going about like I wasn’t even there. Just doing the work. Y’know, like I was supposed to be doing.

I forced myself to take some deep breaths and look away from her. If she could pretend, then I could, too. I would not give in and lose to her in this battle of willpower. I would outlast her. I would outlast her. I would not back down. No matter what. I would win.

I meditated on that thought. I let it loop around my light, dizzy head. Over and over and over.

“Mavis?”

I jolted.

It was just Clyde. I think he noticed me sweating bullets, because he had floated just the tiny bit closer to whisper to me while the rest of the group was occupied. “Are you okay? You look a bit faint.”

“Uh-huh,” I answered automatically.

He asked me something else, but the words didn’t quite make it into my brain. I’d noticed that someone was speaking to Worluk about something -- maybe some experience they’d had -- and I was listening hard for any response from her. Any brief window into that sick brain she was hiding. But she was stoic. Cool and calm. Wretchedly silent.

Still, I absent-mindedly answered the question from Clyde I didn’t hear. “Uh-huh.”

“Wonderful,” he said, and after the monologue pointed Worluk’s way ended to a small round of golf claps and no further insight about the bug, Clyde announced calmly, “Alright everyone. Mavis is ready to take her first step with us.”

Oops.

I jumped and stammered just a bit, but tried to just roll with it. “Uhhh-- yeah, yeah, let’s do it.”

Everyone was looking at me. Waiting.

Those few seconds were an intense struggle. I was scouring my brain for any memory of what the first step was, all while fighting the overpowering need to keep my guard up with Worluk watching. I had to say something, and the obvious answer came to me when I remembered how everyone introduced themselves before speaking. I let it come out on autopilot, so absent I barely heard myself.

“My name’s Make-it Mavis, and I’m an addict.”

More golf claps.

I was confused until Clyde spoke. “Congratulations, Mavis, you’ve taken the very first step to recovery: Honesty. We all begin by admitting that we have a problem. You’re already on your way to recovery.”

It felt weird, hearing all that. I never liked to be told I had problems, but if all it took to get started was admitting that things were bad… Well, that seemed obvious enough.

“Really? That’s it?” I asked suspiciously. “I just gotta say it?”

Clyde gave a gentle laugh that was a little annoying. “No, not quite. Admitting it once might be easy, but moving forward into sobriety, you must always be honest with yourself. Never fool yourself into not taking your addiction seriously.”

“Right,” I said, trying to take paraphrased notes in my head while I watched Worluk in my peripheral. She still wasn’t looking. Unless she was doing the same thing I was. Did she have those compound eyes that some insect sprites have? Could she see me even when it seemed like she was looking away? It’d be hard to sneak up on her, then, with those bulging red eyes. They practically took up her entire head.

These are the sort of thoughts that drowned out the rest of the meeting. But I got more out of it than I did the first one, at least. I’d completed a whole step, apparently. Hooray?

Except the second step, I’d find, would be vastly more daunting than the first. And even after that, I’d still have ten more to go. All of increasing difficulty, and all, assumedly… with Worluk.

Hooray.

#fanfiction #fanfic #wreck it ralph #fix it felix #make it mavis #original character #homesick

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harleenfleck · 5 years ago

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“Despite the danger (Part 1)”

Joker/Arthur Fleck x Reader Fic

Summary: Joker is the love of your life, despite the reputation it carries. You know that, but you don’t care, after he rescued you from a horrible hole you were trapped in. Now, you both lives together, being happy. But you ignore all the risks that come with being the lover of the Clown Prince of Crime.

Warning: Violence, mentions of prostitution, mentions of sexual things, not smut (Not yet)

Words: 2.9k

Notes: Well… Idk where did this come from. Okay, I know, was Lana, Lana was my inspiration baaaaaack, and now she did it while I was writing this.

The truth is I wanted to write something like this for a long time and I just encouraged myself to do it. I think it went well (? I’ve divided into two parts, just for more pleasureeeee.

Thanks to my two brain cells again for made synapsis, I don’t know what I’do without you gurls. Thanks to the Microsoft Translate for translating some things I couldn’t translate.

And agaaaain the same apology HAHA I'm sorry if I make some grammatical, spelling or writing mistakes, english is not my native language, is other, blablablablablaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

Hope you like it! Wait for the Part 2! 😉

...

You woke up one morning, in the middle of some soft white sheets, the sunlight had come in through the window, causing you to open your eyes. You looked next to you, and there he was, ruining those white sheets with his green hair and his damaged clown makeup.

Yes, you are the Clown Prince of Crime dear lover.

Stretching out your arms, you looked at his face sleep peacefully. How could someone who committed crimes, murders and attacks look so angelic?

You kissed his forehead, got up carefully from bed so you wouldn't make any noise, looking for your underwear.

The night before, the assault he had planned for months had been so successful, there was so much emotion and energy in his body that he had to discharge it on you. And you didn't refuse it.

In a light dress, you walked out of the room, letting Arthur rest. Breakfast should be first, but you'd rather have a glass of cognac and a cigarette first. Looking out the window, drinking from the glass liquor, you thought all that comes with being the most wanted criminal in Gotham City. Sometimes it was anguish, anger and revenge. Other times it was successful.

Your toughts reminds you your past, your sad past.

The night when you and Joker met, something that could be dangerous, but him it was your only way out.

You lived in an environment you knew perfectly well you could die any moment, working in a stripclub. Drugs, alcohol, dirty money, criminals, something of every day for you. You didn't think much about your situation, you were just trying to survive.

You hated your job, but you didn't get another chance. Family that could help you? Don’t think so, your closed-minded family was so disappointed in you for a lot of things, but trying to starting to discover your sexuality was what it drove them crazy, throwing you out of your own home. You tried to get ahead and a friend offered you his help, but he spat in your face and cheating in your face too, you fell into that brothel was the worst thing could happen to you, and you just wanted to find a damned exit.

But you were under threat, your boss wanted you to work for him until your body will stop being young. Your friend made fun of you, he was looking for “employees” for his boss, and you fell straight into his trap.

Every time you went to sleep you cried, waiting for something to happen, anything that will get you out of there.

Amd a magical night, your daily request before sleep came true.

That night you worked like any other, dancing with the neon lights and aesthetic wigs, feeling worthless. Your dancing turn was over, and as you came down from the table you observe the bodyguards very nervous.

“Shit, the clowns are coming, this gonna be a fucking mess”

Clowns? You thought What the fuck did they mean by clowns?

You looked at it yourself when they arrived.

It was the most feared crime clan in town. Everyone inside the club thought about leaving the place, but it was too late. Once the clowns came in, no one could get out anymore. Every clown was screaming, asking for attention and service immediately.

They were revolting and of course they were dangerous.

Although to be honest, you were already used to dealing with dangerous people.

They leader would be just like them? Or worst? Probably, and you didn’t want to check it out for yourself.

But the moment when you saw him walk through that door, walking gracefully and arrogantly, with one of his hands in his pocket and the other holding a cigarette, his green hair falling on his shoulders, and the clown makeup in his face.

You recognized him, that famous criminal that everyone in the city talked about, even your “coworkers” while they dressed and makeup before giving another show. You can’t catch your breath; your mind gets a twist. Everyone was afraid of him, and you were no exception. But at the same time, he attracted you from the moment you saw him.

You bite your lips, you wanted to be with him, at least that night. You really wanted so bad, but all of a sudden you got discouraged. You knew there were prettier women, with better bodies, and well, with more experience than you.

Feeling sad and looked down, you decided to get on with your business, which was to hand out the drinks. You could see the women dancing for the clowns and they weren't fools, they enjoyed the show.

You'd come to the tables with the tray full of beers, the clowns didn't even notice your presence. Your coworkes were like goddesses next to you, you were a simple angel.

But there was something strange, none of the women danced for the leader.

He was sitting, crossing his legs, resting on his elbows and interlacing his fingers. Does everyone really be so afraid of him? No one had come to him to give him a simple dance, they hadn't even offered him a drink. It even seemed that he was being forced to be there, which might perhaps be true, or maybe his men did something so good (or something so bad for others) that day, so he decided to "reward" them.

You could have done what everyone else dig, you could get on with your job, wait for the clowns to leave and everything would go back to "normal." But instead, you decided something else.

"Any drink for the Clown Prince of Crime?" You'd heard that bad men liked to be called by the nicknames that the press or the police put to them.

He, without turning his head, placed his eyes upon you, looking from head to toe.

Oh, shit. You thought. Maybe that’s wasn’t a good idea

“You're the first woman to come up to me without fear of me”

“Well, it’s part of my job be helpful to all customers” With a shy smile and lovely voice, you left a neer in his table. He kept seeing you.

“Oh, I see… I see you’re a sweet bunny” You blushed, and he notice that. With an ironic laugh, the prince clown smokes, that put a smile in your face “What’s your name, doll?

Confused, you doubted whether to tell him the truth, because tell your real name to the clients are totally forbidden in the “job”.

“Oh, it’s belladonna” You responded, hoping that would satisfy his curiosity. But you knew better than anyone that when a "client" was infatuated with one of the girls, he was going to do his best to have that girl for him.

“Belladonna, like the poison flower? Pretty, really pretty nickname, but I want to know your real name”

And to be honest, you wanted the clown to be infatuated with you that night.

“y/n…” You whispered. The arrogant clown started playing with the purple hairs that stroked your arms.

“y/n, hmm… Nice hair, beauty color”

“It’s a wig, but thank you”

“I know darling…” Stopping playing with the lock of fake hair, he saw you again, with a disturbingly attractive look “You know who I am?”

He expected an answer, and you were afraid to answer it correctly.

But why did he do that? What did he win for that?

“You’re the Joker… Right?”

A huge laugh was heard in the place, the bodyguards noticed, they thought you’d be fucked. And maybe they were right, but not in the way they thought it would happen.

“Smart girl, smart girl… Let’s go to one of the rooms, I want to… Talk more with you…”

His devilish smile bewitched you.

Yes! You going to pass the night with him. You’d finally spend the night with someone you really wanted.

Taking his hand, you two walked to one of the luxurious rooms, and you noticed how some clowns turned around surprised, it seemed unusual for the clown prince to ask to be with some harlot.

Once inside, you threw Joker into bed, and you were about to undress.

“Hey, stop”

Suddenly you stopped, confused.

“Huh?”

“I said I want to talk with you, I don’t want to fuck you”

Blushing, you felt so silly, so embarrassed, at least the short dress hadn’t fallen to the floor.

When he noticed your shame, he started laughing again.Was he making fun of you? Maybe he had de right to humiliated you.

Putting the straps back on, you put your hands in your back, looking at the floor.

“You’re not a woman of this place”

“W-what?”

You asked more confused, Joker was just watching you, watching how you behave when you were around him.

“Any other whore would have insulted me and said “Don’t waste my time” and left me alone here. You act only like a confused and scared girl. You don’t belong here, y/n, you don’t belong here”

His deep voice made you tremble.

Maybe he was right, but he didn’t know the fact that it was the first time you wanted to be with a man in a long time, and he was the lucky one.

“You’re not here cause you want to, or am I wrong?”

You didn’t have the courage to answer him with the truth, but surely your face ratted you out.

You found out for his next question.

“C’mon, tell me y/n, what kind of woman like you doing in a place like this?”

He crossed his legs again, ready to listen you.

You weren’t sure about that, why he wants you hear that from you?

“I-I didn’t really have many options after my family kicked me out of my house. A friend told me about being a waitress, but was a lie… And I-I got caught with more lies and now… I’m here”

It was so embarrassing that you didn’t even want to see him. He’d probably make fun of you.

He would take his cigarette in his fingers, smoking it, as he listened to your sad story.

“What kind of friends you have, it hurts more his stabbing that one of an enemy” Joker threw his cigarette to the floor and crushed it with his shoe. He came up to you, taking off your wig, caressing your hair and smelling it. That caused sensations in you.

He came to your ear and spoke.

“y/n, my name it’s Arthur, and from now you’ll come with me”

“What? But my boss gonna kill m—"

“If he dares touch you, I’ll break his damn face, by the way, is your friend male or female? It’s working here?”

With that question you knew that nothing good was coming. But anyway, you wanted to get out of there.

“It’s a man, it’s the bartender”

“Hmmm... Follow me”

You two left the room, taking you with his left hand. With his right hand he looked for something in his pockets.

“The party is over!” Joker screamed, the clowns stopped and got up, leaving the dancers aside. He let you for a moment, heading to the bartender “Hey you! You fucking liar!” he pulled out his gun and fired right in his head. The dancers screamed in fear, you too, the bodyguards pointed it at him with more guns. Joker took you again, surrounding you with his arm.

“I had a problem with him, personal matters, I’m sorry about the mess” Your chest contracted, he blamed himself for you “I’m going to take her, I want her for me, and nobody here will change my mind, and if you try, you’ll end up like that asshole”

Fear for both, you were hoping they wouldn’t attacked you two.

But the truth was that no one was drawn to mess with the Joker.

You watched as everyone stared you, in fear and pity, how you trapped in the clutches of the Joker. You wanted to make fun of them, but it wasn’t the time.

Away from everyone, Joker took you with him and his clan, leaving that horrible brothel.

That magical night, after you two made love, you asked him why he pulled you out of that awful place. Thoughtful, with his makeup ruined for your kisses, he answered.

“Love at first sight, perhaps?”

You smiled to him and kissed him again. Maybe you felt love at first sight, too.

Your life took a huge turn from Joker rescued you. You felt he was going to save you from the second he confessed you his real name. Name by the way, you tattooed between your fingers. In your other hand, you had his “other” name tattooed.

Looking your tattoo between the glass of cognac, Arthur Fleck was the best thing that could have happened you in your sad life.

“Why are you dressed, y/n?”

You turned back, there he was, just with his red pants. Seeing like this I’ll turn you in.

“I was hungry, what if I had breakfast naked and any of you men came? How embarrassing that would be”

“Oh yeah? What kind of breakfast are that?” Arthur took your cigarette and started smoking. You decided to leave it to him.

“My favorite”

“Your favorite? I thought I am your favorite breakfast” Arthur took you from the waist. You saw his emeralds in his eyes, his worn makeup, being Joker and Arthur at once. How not fall in love with that man?

But what excited you more is that he was your man.

“You always are my favorite, Art” You kissed him. Arthur, with his feelings altered, he taking you to the bathroom, you two had a long and satisfying shower, he made you yours again there. Any part of the house he would make you yours.

How you loved him, and how he adored you.

When finally he let you get dressed, he would wear his crimson suit, again.

“You’re going to leave again Artie?”

“y/n, baby, I have business”

“I thought your business ended yesterday”

“Crime never rests, doll” Buttoning up his turquoise shirt, you could hear his lament in his voice, finished buttoning his yellow vest, he looked at you and took you by the cheeks “But tonight I won’t let you sleep”

“Like yesterday?”

He let out a laugh, you loved his laughs, more when are spontaneous.

“I only think in you, y/n, in your beautiful eyes, your pretty smile, you scent and how I want to fuck you every night, my doll”

That blush you. Like the first day.

Everything of Arthur freaked you, especially his madness.

“Cheeky boy” Kissed him again, you really wanted he would stay with you all day.

“I gotta go, I want you awake when I get back” Arthur put on his read coat, you helped him put it on.

“Be careful darling, I’ll wait for you for the dinner”

Within their strange relationship, moments like this warmed your hearts.

When you escaped with him, Arthur had the confidence to tell you about his past. Both were rejected, beaten and humiliated. Maybe that’s why that night he had the need to get you out of the brothel, maybe he knows from that second that he saw you for the first time that you and him were soulmates. He knew that both souls are scarred.

Those moments when you said “I love you” without telling him directly, the treasured in his memory.

Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if you had appeared when he was only Arthur Fleck, when Joker still did not appear.

He stopped thinking about it, was dumb. He had you by his side and it was all that matters.

Kissing his lips, Arthur left the home.

He spent the day working, as much he wanted to concentrate, he could not help thinking of your eyes, your body, all you.

And how much he wanted you.

He returned early, and noticed the door was open. Pushing it, he went into the house and felt was going to die. The room was a mess, one of your favorite books was on the floor, wet with cognac.

And a note stuck in the wall with a knife.

You knew perfectly, despite all the love you felt for Arthur, your safety remained the same as in that brothel. It could even be more dangerous.

The note was signed by Joker enemies.

The assault the last night he did it was insulting to them, and in revenge, you were kidnapped.

Continue.

#joker fanfiction #Joker 2019 fanfic #arthur fleck #Arthur fleck fanfic #Fanfiction #Write #Omg #I can't belive I do this again #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #Yess #Lana Was my Inspiration #Natalie Portman in Closer too #Actually the detail of the wig was for her #<3

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kiruuuuu · 5 years ago

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Doc/Lion oneshot in which Lion can’t keep his fingers off Doc, and Doc can’t keep his feet off Lion ;) (Rating E, pure PWP, ~4.3k words) - written for @icezero09!! Thank you again for commissioning me, I’m always stoked to be able to write for you :) Your prompts are a real treat 💖💖

Doc never looks more enticing than after a long day. There’s just – there’s something in his features, a softness where others might look haggard, and it must be his love for the job, his endeavours to help and protect his colleagues, his friends, the general populace. Instead of allowing the everyday stress to wear him down, he often takes moments to remind himself of the good he’s doing. The good he’s done. And so, his slightly sluggish movements carry a gentle quality, his rare smiles are full of gratitude and his aura one of grace, poise, even dignity. He relishes his time to himself, prefers drinking coffee or tea and reading over de-stressing with others, stretched out on the bed, bedside lamp casting warm shadows.

Lion stares at this beautiful man and all he wants to do is fuck him until he screams.

Listen.

He’s drawn to competence and authority already, and encountered a few nearly embarrassing moments when he and Doc were still at odds – the other Frenchman hissed a sharp command and Lion’s first instinct was to roll over, present his belly. Doc is overflowing with life experience and knowledge, and paired with his regular no-nonsense attitude, he’s so perfectly Lion’s type that if he were asked to describe his ideal husband, all he’d do is point at the other man. He oozes attractiveness in a way it makes Lion’s brain short-circuit, and it does things to other parts of his body he has trouble hiding more often than not.

It might be his lower brain speaking right now, however. The same brain which takes note of the sliver of skin visible between Doc’s boxers and his loose shirt, allowing for a few salt and pepper hairs to peek through, the brain which pays close attention to long legs and beautiful fingers, to the juicy-looking bulge, the prominent nose and the fierce scowl -

“No”, says Doc not for the first time.

“Please”, replies Lion, also not for the first time. His breathy pleas have turned into petulant whines but he doesn’t care – all he can focus on is Doc, Doc, in the perfect position to squirm around Lion kneeling between his legs, or maybe swallow Lion’s cock lazily while pretending to read, or get edged to oblivion and back, sweat beading up on his forehead and desperation rising -

“I’m tired. We can do it tomorrow, Olivier.”

He might as well postpone it to the next century. Need has replaced all the blood in Lion’s body, thrumming through his veins and setting him alight for no other reason than Doc being here, in front of him, waiting for Lion to shatter his composure in the most elating way. So far, he hasn’t even touched the object of his desire, merely kneeled down next to him on the mattress, bathing in his lover’s presence; but his body betrays his thoughts. His large erection is painfully visible in his underwear, straining to be set free, twitching now and then, whenever Lion briefly obsesses about one of the things he wants to do to Doc. “Please, Gustave”, he whispers, full of emotion.

It strikes a chord. Doc pauses, book sinking, frown softening. No victory yet, but he’s got his attention. When an attentive and appreciative gaze rakes over Lion’s mostly bare form, he stiffens, holds his breath, allows for his lover to take him all in and judge him – it’s something he found terrifying in the beginning and oddly reassuring now: Doc seems to constantly re-evaluate him and always decides he’s worth it. “Tomorrow”, his lover echoes, sounding weaker than before. He must’ve seen something he liked.

On instinct, Lion sways towards him, following breadcrumbs in the shape of an unconscious lip bite, a gaze flitting to and fro, dropping down to his boner repeatedly. He’s stopped by a foot on his naked chest, a warm sole obstructing him. He breathes against it, makes it rise in time with his inhales, and tentatively brushes over the calf with his fingertips.

They’re staring at each other, hypnotised. The air thickens around them, plump with implications and silent dares.

Doc indubitably meant it as a sign to leave him alone, but when Lion’s dick jumps once more, he seems to understand he’s achieving the exact opposite. His foot twitches, then wanders upwards. “You’re so needy, Olivier.” His voice is low and full of hesitant promises.

The slide of skin on skin drastically increases the temperature in the room. “I am”, he confirms quietly and tilts his head towards the questing limb. Their eyes are glued to each other and neither of them blinks; for once, Lion feels like the prey and not the predator. He’s not surprised he likes it, not when Doc fixes him with a look this intense.

“If I let you, you’d fuck me all night.” A toe drags down Lion’s lower lip and his breath hitches. “Every night.”

He’s never been this fucking aroused in his entire life. “I would”, he agrees and closes his lips around Doc’s big toe. The embers glowing brighter and brighter in coffee brown eyes now ignite with a flash, rising and rising the longer Lion sucks without breaking eye contact. He’s got him now. He sees Doc’s boxers swell in his peripheral vision.

“You’re indecent.” It’s not an insult. Doc pulls his foot free and travels back down, his wet skin leaving behind a cool trace doing nothing to calm the roaring inside Lion. “Utterly obscene.”

The moment Lion feels pressure against his rock hard cock, his eyelids flutter powerlessly. He resists the urge to falter, to fold, and remains perfectly upright despite the foot exploring his crotch roughly, yet his face heats up even more. It’s a mixture of normal stimulation and feeling stepped on, which is thrilling in its almost-humiliation, but since it’s Doc, there’s a warm security behind it too. Doc loves him. And right now, he’s in charge for once. Lion’s lips part in preparation of a moan which never comes, because when toes finally rub over his cockhead, the resulting desire exploding outwards closes up his throat.

Doc is electric and electrifying, even the lightest touch causes muscles to tense and passion to skyrocket – he contours Lion’s balls with the back of his foot, then drags the heel over his aching erection and elicits half-strangled gasps of disbelief. Lion wants him so much and yet is frozen in the moment, held at bay by the promise of more teasing. “You like this.” Not a question. Doc seems gleeful, filled with delight over having discovered something about Lion all by himself, something of which he likely wasn’t aware himself or else he would’ve divulged it readily, hoping for Doc to exploit his knowledge.

And he’s correct. Lion never knew how fucking sexy being touched like this could be, but he’s beginning to suspect that anything Doc does to him is the epitome of desirable as long as Lion’s in the mood. And is he ever.

“Please”, he repeats, the phrase empty but the intention clear as day. He needs more.

Displaying a smug smile, Doc discards the book fully and settles in more comfortably in the cushions, all without moving the leg connecting him to Lion. “What am I supposed to do with you, Olivier?”, he mutters, self-satisfied, and rubs over the entire length of Lion’s cock, making him shudder. He looks like a benevolent monarch, regal in his generosity, curious gaze leaving burning hot trails on Lion’s skin.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous”, he can’t help but choke out and Doc’s cool façade breaks to reveal a bright, genuine smile. Once again, the atmosphere shifts, Doc gives up some of his power despite still being mostly in control, and Lion understands they’re on one page now. They both want satisfaction. He’s already planning ahead, wondering in which position he should take Doc, how long he’ll spoil him before burying himself deep, and he can already see this helpless, devoted expression Doc always gets when he’s being invaded, so full of wonder and -

“Can you get off like this?”

His thoughts screech to a halt when his glans slips between Doc’s big toe and the second one. The sound he produces is ungraceful but Doc’s interest is piqued nonetheless – he massages his lover’s shaft with his sole, pressing down on all the right spots and, well, Lion figures the answer to his question is a resounding yes. He can basically feel the precum oozing out.

“Take off your underwear.”

The brief respite he gets while shedding the last piece of clothing does nothing to calm his blazing need, not when Doc mirrors him and reveals his own swollen cock, resting heavy on his belly and calling to Lion. He wants to taste it, touch it, worship it, but when he reaches out, he’s stopped by a playful: “Don’t touch me.” So he sits back, almost drooling, and eyes Doc’s nearly naked form longingly. His shirt rode up even more, putting his toned abdomen on display, and Lion would sacrifice a few fingers to be able to swirl his tongue through Doc’s navel right now.

When his lover grabs the lube from the nightstand, Lion experiences an almost Pavlovian reaction: lust shoots through him, white hot and blinding and all he can think about is how he’ll sink into delicious heat soon. He barely manages to get out a quiet yes before noticing Doc’s lifted eyebrow. Seems like it won’t be that easy after all.

“Needy”, Doc repeats and returns his foot, touching the tip of his toe to the glistening head quietly leaking in neglect and alright, they’re back to this – not that Lion is complaining, finally there’s skin on skin contact and the way his foreskin rolls over all the sensitive spots is addicting, but he still hasn’t taken his eyes off Doc’s proud erection. Testament of his attraction to Lion. It’s this thick and dark only because of him, only because he’s letting Doc give him a footjob and loving it.

Finally, he picks up on the expectant air around the other Frenchman and it clicks. So they’re playing a game today. “I’m a horny dog”, he breathes, voice breaking when the pressure increases to an almost unbearable level just for a second. “I should be punished.”

Doc’s grin is brilliant. “You should”, he concurs and spreads his legs. Fucking Christ. Lion’s gaze is glued to the entrance now visible, taunting, inviting. He can’t reach out and brush his fingertips over the rim, can’t lie down to lick over it like a kitten, can’t glide inside to unload deep, deep inside Doc – but he wants to. Dear God does he want to.

“Please, Gustave.” He’s a broken record at this point. Hips are starting to move, pushing back against the warm limb slowly driving him insane, seeking to increase the friction, wring every bit of pleasure out of the sensation he can, and the result is better, a lot better, but not good enough. His breath is stuttery and the small thrusts aborted; he’s trying hard to hold himself back.

“Is this what you want?” Doc reaches down and pulls a cheek apart, exposing himself even more obscenely and fucking hell, he’s cocky. Lion isn’t sure where Doc got this sudden boost of confidence but it’s blisteringly hot to see him sprawl like this, put himself on a silver platter. He does look delicious. Lion wants to devour him whole. “Hm? Is this it?”

A thumb touches the pink hole which pulses in return, constricts, and Lion can feel it around the base of his cock, the phantom sensation impossibly strong as his hips strain forwards against the unwavering resistance. “Yes. Fuck yes.” Words largely elude him over the sensual sight right before his nose.

And then he has to watch, frozen in disbelief, as Doc pours lube over his own fingers before returning them to their previous place; and with Lion staring, open-mouthed, Doc rubs over the rim slowly, coating it, and eventually pushes one digit inside.

Lion’s brain malfunctions.

This is too much to handle, Doc is too much to handle, and he just can’t. Following a moan, a muffled, despairing sound, Lion wraps a hand around Doc’s calf and keeps it in place as he thrusts his entire length along the soft sole, never once taking his eyes off the finger pushing in and out steadily. He needs this stimulation and so he takes it for himself, humps Doc’s foot like a drowning man and whimpers when the toes curl around his glans on every upstroke. The lazy smile on his true love’s face, the way Doc’s body accommodates all, his own finger and Lion’s sudden outburst, it’s exhilarating.

“Slow down”, Doc requests gently. “You’re meant to enjoy this.” But it’s impossible, how can he expect Lion not to run wild when he adds another finger so casually as if he’s used to it – and he can’t be, not like this, not when Lion insists on being the one to prepare him every time they have sex. He relishes in the noises he tickles out of his significant other, works him open with patience and adoration each time, teases and rubs and thrusts until Doc is red-faced from the effort of holding still, from slight embarrassment and love and anticipation. Doc is used to Lion’s fingers, not his own, so how can he smirk like the cat that ate the cream when he’s -

Doc moans, cock twitching.

And Lion fucking loses it.

He wasn’t even aware of how his pleasure spiked the moment Doc started fingering himself, didn’t really notice how fucking primed and ready he was, how affected by the consistent teasing – and if he’s honest, he doubted that a foot alone would turn him on this much. But the friction was delectable, and paired with the shapely leg attached to it, the entirety that is Doc lounging on the mattress, all honeyed words and fiery looks, it was entirely too much.

With a high-pitched whine, he zooms past the point of no return before he realises what’s happening and when he does, he’s horrified. He’s not going to shoot inside Doc if he comes now, he’ll just ejaculate all over his leg and shit, that’s embarrassing really. Scrambling to stop the process, he pushes the offending foot away, ceases all stimulation trying to prevent his climax, but it’s too late.

Or is it?

Because all that happens is his cock pulsing and sperm leaking out weakly, so instead of the usual fountain it’s nothing more than a sad dribble down his shaft as he shakes from suppressed need – it flows over his balls and drips down right onto Doc’s foot.

“I’m sorry”, Lion mutters, not only for the shitty orgasm but also for making a mess, and he wants to continue by offering compensation when Doc rumbles: “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

And this is when Lion realises that he’s still painfully hard. That his lust hasn’t disappeared. He raises his gaze to meet Doc’s and is shocked at its intensity, amazed when he sees his lover reflect the same amount of desire he’s projecting. They still want the same thing, if Doc’s scissoring fingers are anything to go by, but Lion feels raw and overstimulated after the not-quite orgasm, so he does the first thing that comes to mind.

He begins licking Doc’s foot clean. Simply raises it to his face, noting as his lover’s stormy eyes darken, and pushes his tongue between the wet toes. If his heartbeat wasn’t already going a mile a minute, it certainly does upon Doc adding a third finger inside himself. Even so, Lion dedicates himself to his task, lavishes the flesh before him in attention and enjoys every second of it. His fingertips dig into muscle and massage the arch dutifully while his mouth takes care of the rest: sloppily slurping up the mess he made, lapping at each toe individually and sucking on them in succession – he doesn’t stop until it’s clean again, and even then he keeps going. Doc watches him, grateful, entranced, and when Lion finishes by placing a soft kiss on every toe, some of the tension in his features melts into appreciation again.

“I love every part of you”, Lion says, because it’s true, and smiles when Doc’s cheeks deepen in colour. Finally, finally, his lover pulls his fingers free and motions for him to come closer, and Lion wastes no time practically diving on top of the other man to smash their lips against each other. The entire length of their bodies slots together like two puzzle pieces interlocking, and all this contact is the best kind of overwhelming after having been touched so little previously – they’re constantly in motion, rubbing their legs over each other, pressing their chests closer, running hands over every bit of skin they can find, and all the while Lion slowly takes Doc apart with his tongue. He explores Doc’s mouth as if it was the first time, ravishes it with abandon and swallows all the groans coming from their stiff cocks dragging over each other.

“Come on, Olivier”, wet lips mumble against his between mind-numbing kisses, “I want you inside.”

And fuck he does not need to say this twice. Lion wrestles his better half out of his shirt and longingly eyes the sculpted chest which he’d normally lavish in attention, but with the way his dick is thrumming impatiently, he simply doesn’t have the nerve. Before he can begin to look for the lube, Doc has already slicked up his hand again and wrapped it around Lion’s shaft, making him flinch momentarily. He’s sensitive, overly so, the pressure from before and the not-quite orgasm left it raw and throbbing, yet the callouses on Doc’s fingers feel heavenly despite the slight discomfort.

It feels like an eternity with Doc letting his fist glide up and down in a pace so slow it does nothing but heighten Lion’s arousal, and the entire time they keep making out deeply, tongues dancing, lips sucking on any piece of flesh before them. This is one of Lion’s favourite pastimes – just kissing, without any specific intentions. Kissing for the sake of kissing. They’ve started a few days off by just locking lips for an hour and seeing where it gets them, and more often than not both of them end up short of breath, vibrating with anticipation and hungry for more.

Doc’s hands are even more skilful than his feet in getting Lion off, and so he actually has to grab his lover’s wrist to prevent another too-soon climax, especially when deft fingers begin massaging the underside of his head, sending jolts of pleasure through his body. They separate just long enough to hold eye contact when Lion enters him, and he’ll never get enough of watching Doc’s eyelids flutter shut when the thick head breaches him fully, of the way his mouth falls open on a silent moan. Muscles relax, features go slack, and he’s Lion’s. Wholly his. This is the moment in which Doc gives himself up, hands himself over to his lover.

He’s incredibly hot and tight, welcoming the flesh pushing inside by clenching down on it in waves and prolonging the initial slide in – not that either of them mind. Lion buries his face in the crook of Doc’s neck and just breathes, focuses on the soothing smell, the blissful feeling of becoming one with the one he loves and the aimless patterns Doc draws on his back as they both bask in each other’s presence.

“You feel good”, Doc murmurs and it’s all the encouragement Lion needed. He latches on to the skin of his lover’s neck, sucking a bruise onto darker skin, and grinds against him with deliberate motions, rubbing deep. The resulting noise is music to his ears.

For a bit, he concentrates on shallow, hard thrusts while marking Doc all over, claiming him with light bites and more hickeys, but it doesn’t satisfy either of them. Lion’s cock is aching, rearing to be put to good use, and so he gives in to the primal urge.

Rising up, he fixes Doc with a sweltering gaze and plants a last sloppy kiss on his mouth before he does the very thing he’s been wanting to do every since he stumbled over Doc all spread out on their shared bed: fuck him until he forgets which day it is.

Their moans mingle in the space between them and all Doc can do, helplessly, is scramble for purchase, hold on to Lion’s sides as he’s rocked by every brutal thrust into his welcoming hole – he looks adorable, in a way, all caught up in the ecstasy of having his sweet spot hammered. Lion drags him onto his cock by the hips, meeting him halfway with his own and slams home mercilessly, bathing in the uninterrupted stream of noises Doc creates as usual: muffled groans, disbelieving gasps, throaty moans. Lion absorbs it all, lets it fuel the pulsating desire driving him.

“Hold your feet”, he demands in between sharp snaps of his hips eliciting strangled sounds, “yes. Just like that. Fuck yes.” And there’s another spike caused by the view in front of him, by Doc grabbing his own soles and holding his legs up and apart, pink skin turned towards Lion and his heavy dick beautifully showcased again. He’s lost in the moment, in the sensations – they both are, and Lion briefly has to struggle to keep up his brutal tempo.

Since he half-came earlier, his stamina is impressive, but it doesn’t only have advantages: he’s struggling to climb, trapped in perpetual stimulation which only just isn’t enough even though Doc clamps down on him so marvellously every time he rubs over his prostate, even though Lion can feel his glans getting caught on Doc’s rim on every thrust. His hair is sweat-soaked, Doc’s skin is shiny and despite the fast movements, he’s not quite there.

Seeking that last bit of pleasure which will push him over the edge, Lion begins worshipping Doc’s body as hardly anything turns him on more quickly than being allowed to explore, adore, map out his lover’s skin. Doc stretches towards his touch, melts below his fingertips and just won’t stop growling in satisfaction while Lion strokes over the expanse of his chest, teases the erect nipples and pushes a thumb between reddened lips. But even when Lion reaches between their legs and starts jerking the bone hard cock so familiar to him, even when Doc whines and tosses his head to the side and nearly loses grip of his feet, even when he’s shuddering in overstimulation, even when Lion’s heart is so full of devotion, he can’t come yet, can’t -

In frustration, he leans in and trails his lips along the pretty feet displayed for his pleasure, captures cute toes in his mouth and wraps his tongue around them, and in return, Doc produces the most desperate keen Lion has ever witnessed him make. With the next breath, he moans out Lion’s name, and holy fuck that’s it.

Bent over the love of his life, Lion almost collapses when the first wave of pleasure races through him like a truck. He goes blind for a second, clawing at anything in reach, probably leaving more bruises, and stutters out a loud groan as his climax ripples through him with so much intensity he briefly loses himself. At the edge of his consciousness, he registers Doc writhing under him, caught up in his own orgasm, and the realisation that they’re coming together has Lion’s abdomen tense up almost painfully, heightening the relief shooting through his system as he comes deep inside. They pant together, hold on to each other as they ride it out, moving in unison and relishing their release.

They keep moving slightly while coming down, cause gentle friction and reassure each other with soft touches, and it helps ground them. Lion trusts his lover fully and so he lets loose, allows for the post-orgasmic afterglow and exhaustion to settle in comfortably without having to worry about anything. Once their breaths and heartbeats have normalised, they exchange a grin and disentangle themselves: Doc lets his legs fall, Lion pulls out and gives Doc’s spent cock a last tug, and then they stretch out next to each other, sighing and interlacing their fingers.

A minute is spent in warm silence during which they both savour their bodies’ memories, and then Doc scoots closer to nuzzle Lion’s ear, his body probably cooling down and the milky stripes covering his chest aren’t helping. “So”, he purrs, sounding smug again, “you have a foot thing, hm?”

“I didn’t even know”, Lion laughs and kisses Doc’s nose. “But I’m fairly sure it’s just your feet.”

“Flatterer.”

“As if you mind.”

“You know I don’t.” Doc seems extremely pleased with himself. “Is this going to happen every time I just want to read after babysitting our co-workers all day?”

Lion snorts and gathers the other Frenchman into a tight embrace until their hearts beat against each other and their limbs are intertwined in a way they won’t unravel even when they sleep. “Are you implying you wouldn’t want that to happen?”

And the only reply he receives is an amused grin. Which, he notes not without significant self-satisfaction, is not a no.

#rainbow six siege #doc/lion #doc #lion #fanfic #oneshot #commissions #you've made a grave mistake in indulging him doc #wait until he asks for footsie during a meeting

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eternalgirlscout · 5 years ago

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i desperately want to hear your hotel stories now

so.

i am convinced, in my heart of hearts, that a mid-range-priced hotel near a sports stadium is where human beings can be found at their most primal. and this is where i worked my senior year of undergrad.

i should start with a disclaimer that i think anyone who has worked in a hotel will agree with, and it is that the wildest shit is really not funny at all--especially at the time. like i could tell you about the drunk guy who got into someone else’s room carrying nothing but a half-empty bottle of vodka, passed out, and then threatened to kill my supervisor; or i could tell you about the naked dude who used every part of the room as a bathroom except the bathroom and then called the front desk, trying to get exclusively the female staff to “help him with his luggage”; or the man who was convinced housekeeping stole some of his stuff so decided to harass every member of the staff he could find by screaming obscenities at us in person and over the phone until we were all genuinely concerned he was going to assault someone from housekeeping; or the lady who thought it would be funny to fake a human trafficking incident. i won’t.

i would LOVE, however, to tell you about my nemeses: the hot tub beer people.

for context, my hotel was the closest one to the university football stadium that wasn’t exorbitantly expensive and/or always sold out. so every game day, i got to see a particular breed of white man in his natural habitat. physically large, usually loud, wearing at least one article of sports team paraphernalia, barefoot, nursing an open cup of beer. there was always one wandering around the lobby because the hotel restaurant wouldn’t serve him if he wasn’t wearing shoes.

i will have the pleasure of meeting several this particular night.

a gentleman comes up to me early in the evening, blessedly wearing shoes but also carrying a beer, and asks if he can bring alcohol into the pool. the pool has a very large sign on the door that states: NO FOOD. NO BEVERAGES. NO ALCOHOL.

“no,” says i, because the answer is no.

“okay.” the man begins to walk away. he returns a moment later and asks, slyly, as if i am in on the joke and would just love to let him bring alcohol into the pool area if it weren’t for these pesky rules, “what are the consequences if we do?”

“i’m going to have to ask you not to do that,” i reply with one of the many customer service smiles in my repertoire.

he seems to find this fair enough. dear reader, i had hoped this would be the end of it. i was so naive, so young then.

i would guess about an hour later, i see the same fellow approach the desk. he seems irritated and unhappy. i don’t believe the beer in his hand is the same one, but it might as well be.

“just so you know,” he says snippily, “you told me i couldn’t drink in the pool, but there are a bunch of people in the hot tub with beers.”

well.

what a delight.

i assure him that they will not be permitted to continue their beer drinking either, thank you sir, and grab my manager. we check out the security camera in the pool, and sure enough, there are six people in the hot tub chugging away at some cans of budweiser. they could not even be bothered to get good beer--this is wisconsin. the audacity. but i digress.

i head to the pool, because i have gained a reputation in a couple other jobs at being good at telling people they’re not allowed to do shit. (in my personal life i have a deeply upsetting anxiety response to most forms of interpersonal conflict, but Customer Service Sarah is a horse of a different color. that shit makes you grow a spine like no other.)

i stride into the pool--carefully; i do not yet have my iconic non-slip shoes--and give a little Hey folks! just so you know to the clan soaking away their troubles in the hot tub. the man i take to be the leader of their little gang gets out of the hot tub and comes up to me. now, i’m not known for the enforcement of my own personal bubble, but there is a particular way in which some white men who are very used to getting whatever they want will really utilize the whole personal space issue to their advantage. this man is not subtle about it.

“of course,” he assures me. “we’ll just set our beer outside the door here, i don’t want to go all the way back to the room.”

“sure,” i say, “and we’re going to need to clean up the empty cans.”

apologies, dear reader, for not explaining the set dressing before now. there are empty bottles and cans of beer--some even in beer cozies! how homey--strewn about in a 10 foot radius from the hot tub. nobody in the tub moves, including the man who is still watching me, so i start gathering them myself.

“watch out,” says a woman in the hot tub from a deep and lovingly-dug well of sarcasm as i leave with my arms full of their trash, “somebody might have some water”

i arrive back at the front desk. i do not trust these people as far as i can throw them. i pull up the security camera again, just in the nick of time to see my old pal Personal Space Gary reaching up to drape a towel from the pool over the security camera.

a master of subtlety, that man.

well, the story ends as one might expect: my manager calls the night shift maintenance guy, who is a sweet and funny man with what some might consider an intimidating mustache, and the whole crew is ejected from the pool for the remainder of their stay.

to this day, i consider that one of my greatest customer service failures. somewhere out there is a group of beer guzzling football fans who believe themselves to have won out over and humiliated the front desk girl from this one game, and perhaps consider their removal an act of petty revenge as opposed to we don’t have a fucking lifeguard in this pool you can’t be drunk here and you sure as hell can’t have glass containers you absolute buffoon. you can never control the narrative someone else assigns to you, but the knowledge still cuts me deep. maybe someday i will find peace. maybe someday.

also there was the time some guy cut a head-sized hole in his curtains for no apparent reason. i think about that one a lot.

#and I'll tell you no lies #helloooo nonny!#job bloggin'#stories #alcohol cw #unsanitary //#violence mention #trafficking mention #ask to tag #Anonymous

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