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soulmate-game · 4 years ago

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I was feeling angsty. Read at your own risk, there is very little comfort in this and a whole shit ton of hurt. Probably a bunch of emotional triggers, so seriously be careful guys.

—*—*—*—*—*

Liquid pain ran down her arm like poison, the slash in it burning hot and spreading it’s agony like an invisible waterfall inside her flesh. But she did not grip her bicep where the wound had been inflicted, her gaze blank as she forced herself to hide her turmoil behind glass eyes. Her brother’s snarling face was only inches in front of her own, his katana moving from her arm to her throat.

“Useless! To think we share any blood relation is humiliating!” He growled at her. She did not move, did not emote. Her blades fans, the weapon she was loved most, lay half-opened on the ground beside her. Abandoned. But she knew Damian’s sword would not kill her. Blood family was a bond that was not to be severed by murder unless ordered by Ra’s or justified by the murdered family member in question betraying the League. She had done nothing to betray the Shadows, and Ra’s would not waste time and energy, or the breath it would require, to order her death. Just as he would not waste the precious waters of the Pit to bring her back again. She would not die today, and she knew it.

Sure enough, it was only a few more insults in various languages before Damian Al-Ghul stepped back and scowled down at the blood on his blade. Her blood. “If you don’t even have the stomach for real combat, you do not belong here,” he spat.

“That is where we agree, Grandson,” Ra’s sharp voice echoed through the room, his beady eyes never once bothering to glance at his granddaughter. “Maria, you are hereby stripped of the name Al-Ghul. Banishment from the League is the only mercy you shall be granted for your dishonor on our blood. Be useful and use whatever is left of your mistake of a life to stay out of the League’s way. Shall I, Damian, or your mother ever see your face again, your burial will follow shortly after. Am I understood?”

“Yes Gr— yes, Ra’s Al-Ghul.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Maria Al-Ghul was seven years old when she was disowned and sent away from the League of Shadows without so much as a penny to her name. She was only allowed to take the change of clothes she carried, and one small backpack’s worth of items. Her mother— Talia— had watched vigilantly as she packed those items, assuring that Maria did not take anything of worth.

The girl traveled by foot, too small to get away with driving a vehicle. Unless she could manage to steal a motorbike— she knew how to adjust the seats and pedals on most models to accommodate her size. But she was far too far away from civilization for that.

She knew that most of the League expected her to die in the jungles that surrounded the temple. After all, there were ninjas scattered throughout it with strict orders to kill anyone who was not one of them. And Maria now fit that description.

But if there was one thing Maria knew better than anything else, it was how to hide. How to hide feelings, intentions, involuntary movements, or her whole body in almost any setting. She covered herself in mud, matted her hair with dirt and took off her shoes. Barefoot was always quieter, and her feet would be more sensitive to any change in terrain. She would have to move more slowly and be on the lookout for traps, ground litter that could harm her, or dangerous wildlife, but she would be much harder to track.

It took her a month, but she made it to her first Tibetan city alive and decently healthy. She begged for food for a day before snatching a child’s outfit off of some hanging laundry lines and stealing the first decent vehicle she found. It was an old moped, but it beat walking and was already built small. She made it work.

That was how she spent the majority of the next year. She traveled from town to town, stealing what she needed until she could earn money normally. She used that money to buy herself a fake identity, even if she had to use the skills she had hoped to never need again in order to afford it.

Marinette Shiwang was born when she was already eight years old.

It was only a year after her new identity was created when she bumped into a woman in a street market. That was nothing new, those places could get crowded. But when Marinette looked up and saw valuable bracelets and necklaces of gold and jade, she knew she needed at least one. The money she would get for it would have her living comfortably for a short while. So Marinette’s theft-experienced fingers darted out and unclasped one bracelet in a fluid movement. It took less than a second. She barely had the piece of jewelry in her hand before she started to take off, hoping to lose herself in the crowd.

But a small hand clamped around her shoulder, a sturdy thumb pressing against a very vulnerable spot right at the back of Marinette’s neck, at the base of her skull. A clear threat from somebody with experience.

The sweet voice that followed didn’t match the gesture at all.

“Oh, I need that back dear. It was a gift from my husband, you understand.”

Marinette did. She cared about survival more. The small girl twisted, knocking the hand away from her before it could do damage and darting down a side street. The woman followed. It took three hours, but Marinette decided she had finally lost her pursuer before slumping down in the tiny, closet-sized bedroom of her cheap apartment. Her eyes closed for only a second before the window opened, and the smell of newly-baked sesame buns filtered through.

It was the woman and a much taller, much more masculine man. He was practically a giant, reminding Marinette of a certain member of the League that she used to know. They were both smiling.

“My wife figured you would be more open to an exchange than just giving up the bracelet for free,” the man’s voice was deep and inviting. “You can eat as many buns as your stomach can handle, if you give it back.”

Marinette accepted. Mostly because of her fear for people who could track her to her home so easily, when she had been certain she had not been followed. The League has tuned her senses well, there was no way the couple had been close enough to see her when she made it to her apartment. Yet they were still there somehow. Then, it also had to do with the promise of food, and the heavenly smell of the food itself. And then, lastly, Marinette was tired. She didn’t like stealing, it was just a necessity. She would not hurt these people over a mere bracelet that she wished she didn’t have to take in the first place.

Useless, she thought. So much of a bleeding heart that she just gave up what could have paid for two months rent. Too soft to even protect herself. The Al-Ghuls has been right. She was a waste of space and time.

Marinette was ten years old when she became a Dupain-Cheng. Somehow, that strange, dangerous couple had become her new family. Not even she knew how. But she was grateful— they took her back to Paris with them and she didn’t have to worry about rent, or food, or money anymore.

She vowed, that day that she received her spacious attic bedroom, that she would repay them. She would make herself useful, for the first time in her life. She would stay out of their way, be the perfect most unobtrusive daughter ever. She would help in the bakery, keep a smile on her face so that they never doubted that they were doing a good job. So that they never wasted time worrying about her. She smiled, and laughed, and became successful for them. Competent and reliable even though her memories would sink into her dreams every day and make it near impossible to drag herself out of bed in the mornings.

And then, when Marinette Dupain-Cheng was thirteen, she was given a pair of magical earrings and a tiny fairy-god. And Tikki was thorough, at least. Diligent in her explanation. Marinette listened to every word, dread seeping in as she doubted her ability to carry out such an important task. Save a city? Defeat someone much more experienced and magically powerful than her?

Useless little Maria could never. Slightly less useless Marinette could never.

She was only ever meant to play a support role. Stay on the background and make everyone else shine, without ever succeeding in anything worth noting. That was who she was.

But then Tikki gave her the Warning. The catch that came with the Ladybug abilities, and Marinette felt the long-rusted determination in her begin to fire up again. Maybe she could be Ladybug. Maybe she could be useful, at least this once. At least for just this one scenario. She could fight and win the war against Hawkmoth, and that achievement alone could make her happy. Let her die knowing she did something worthwhile.

—*—*—*—*—*

Damian Wayne was seventeen when he and his family found out about the Paris Situation, and immediately went over to offer help. Damian Wayne was seventeen when he watched Ladybug stumble at the sight of him, and immediately run away. But the two of them were twins, and though twin telepathy might be a myth they always did have a certain instinct when it came to one another.

Damian Wayne was Seventeen when he said, aloud on the top of a random Parisian building and surrounded by his family—

“My sister is Ladybug.”

Damian didn’t wait for their reactions, having entirely forgotten about the existence of his father and brothers, before taking off after his spotted sibling.

—*—*—*—*—*

“I knew you were alive.”

In hindsight, those probably weren’t the best words for him to say when Maria clearly thought he was still an assassin.

Damian watched as Marinette spun to face him, her face so much more expressive than he remembered. He could actually see the resignation in the slump in her shoulders, he could feel the fear in her bluebell eyes. The eyes she was lucky enough to get from their father while he was cursed with their mother’s green irises. He used to envy that about her, especially after joining the BatClan. But now he only felt comfort when he looked into her eyes. Comfort that she was different than him, and always had been. In the best of ways.

He watched as his sister was enveloped by a bright flash of pink light, detransforming right in front of him. And without the mask, it was impossible to ignore the relation between them. She had their father’s eyes and nose where he had their mother’s, but other than that they were almost carbon copies of one another. Her blue-black hair was pulled back into twin braids though, something he noted distantly as oddly fitting. They suited her, he thought.

But all those thoughts instantly turned to dust as she dropped to her knees in front of him, head bowed in complete submission.

“Tom and Sabine are innocent,” she told him. “They adopted me out of nothing but goodwill, and they have been nothing but good to me. I never told them a single word about my origin, I swear it on our blood. They think I am just an orphan that was abandoned in Hong Kong—“

“Maria—“

“—so please, don’t harm them. I’m begging you. And there is no need for you to waste energy killing me. You are welcome to stay in Paris as long as no harm comes to Tom and Sabine, but just wait and watch. I know who Hawkmoth is, and our final plan is almost ready. I’ll have him taken down by next week. Just— wait until then, please. My death will take care of itself afterwards, but Paris deserves to be free, and killing me now will set this entire war against Hawkmoth back by at least a year. And I also need that time to pick my successor—“

“Maria! I am not here to kill you!” Damian had to yell to get her to stop babbling and begging. She froze, but didn’t dare to sit up or even raise her head. So Damian took the initiative and sat down on the ground with her, though he kept his distance so that he didn’t scare her too badly. He couldn’t blame her for her reaction, it had been ten years since they had seen one another and their parting hadn’t exactly been pleasant.

But he had changed a lot since then, matured a lot.

“I am completely disconnected from the League,” he admitted. Of the blurry memories he had of her, he did remember that being blunt was the best way to handle information with her. Beating around the bush had always done nothing but make her exceptionally nervous and jittery. Sure enough, his admission was enough to make her look up at him with disbelieving eyes. He risked a small grin. “I didn’t come in my old uniform, did I?” He gestured to himself in the bright Robin colors. Sure enough, Marinette’s rapid blinking proved his theory that she hadn’t even registered his clothing at all to be true. She had run as soon as she recognized his face.

But Marinette did not speak. She sat up a little, still eyeing him cautiously. But her silence helped him finally realize where they were— where she had led him.

The sounds of traffic and other big city noises were all muted, as if muffled by several layers of cloth. Shadows fell over them abundantly, and they were surrounded by dilapidated concrete walls.

She had brought him to an abandoned area far from any activity, where a body would take ages to find. She had then disarmed herself of her only weapon, her magic suit, and had gotten on the ground in total submission.

She had purposely given him the perfect setting to kill her, where there would be no witnesses and plenty of time before her body would be found for him to escape. That realization hit Damian square the chest, leaving him breathless for a moment.

“I am not here to kill anybody,” he reiterated, his voice noticeably much gentler than before. “Not you, not you adoptive parents, nobody. I left the league when I was eleven. Mother—“ he took a breath, but Maria deserved to know. “— she cloned me. Her clone killed me. He no longer exists, but that is of no consequence. She killed me, she and Grandfather disowned me when I made it clear I was not returning. Father— our father,” he was insistent as he leaned forward, not continuing until she met his gaze. “You remember who our father is, right? Bruce Wayne? Mother had dropped me off to be raised with him when I was ten, but of course it was all just one of her plots. It was her miscalculation though, because I ended up growing close to them. To Father and his adopted children. You would get along with Gra— with Dick, the best I think. Although T— Jason would also be a prime contender as your favorite brother, I think. He shares your love of motor bikes, if that hasn’t changed?” She just stared at him, clearly confused and experiencing a lot of feelings at once. He stayed silent for a moment to allow her to sort through them a little.

“I’m Robin now,” he made his voice quieter, but still easy for her to hear. “I’m a member of the Bats. I’m sure they would all welcome you, if you chose to meet them. Though be warned, they can be quite in—“

“Why are you doing this?” Marinette’s voice was barely above a whisper, Damian almost didn’t hear her. But he did, and fell silent. He watched as his sister licked her lips and tried to find the right words to say. “If what you say is true… you have a perfectly good family. Brothers, Father, a comfortable life. Why follow me then? Why offer me… any of that?”

Damian frowned. He didn’t remember Maria being so gloomy, but then again she had been raised to never show her emotions. Maybe, after years away from the temple like him, her true feelings were just easier for him to see now. Closer to the surface.

“I want to get to know you— to get to know my sister, again,” he told her. “Don’t tell them, but Father and the others have taught me to appreciate family. The way I treated you when we were children was not right, and though it was heavily influenced by Mother and Grandfather, I want to make up for it nonetheless. Maybe we can get to know the new us, together?”

Marinette’s eyes went wide with disbelief, but then she clenched her jaw and shook her head.

“We can’t.”

“... right, I understand if you do not forgive me. I didn’t even consider—“

“It isn’t that,” Marinette was quick to correct him. “When I said that my death will handle itself, I mean it, Damian. The Ladybug… the earrings that give me my powers, come with a price,” she absently ran her fingertips over the unassuming black studs in her ears. “If a Ladybug uses the miraculous for more than three years, the powers of Creation will demand to be balanced. Already, the Miraculous is powering itself on nothing but my life force now. Once I defeat Hawkmoth, there will be no need for Ladybug anymore. The moment I take the earrings off, they will cease keeping me alive.”

Damian’s face fell. No— no, that wasn’t right. He was finally able to find her, finally able to apologize and try to fix his past mistakes. This couldn’t be how the reunion went. This couldn’t—

“Not even the Lazarus Pits can bring me back from a Miraculous death,” Marinette went on. “So you and your family should go. You don’t need to be here when I—“ Marinette paused, gasping. “Damian, why are you crying?! Stop that!” Her voice became desperate, Marinette crawling over to him as quickly as she could and wiping away his tears as if they were something terrifying. Damian wasn’t sobbing or making any noise, it was just a silent stream of tears running down both cheeks as he stared at her wordlessly.

“I…” he finally managed to choke out. “I wanted to make up for everything. I wanted for us to be twins again, together.”

Marinette paused, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “I know a magic user who can erase your memories of me,” she offered. “But you don’t have to feel guilty for anything. You never said anything that wasn’t true.”

Damian’s green eyes widened. He had said nothing but cruel things to her, that last year they spent together as children. Did she really believe all of that? Did he and their childhood really affect her self worth this severely and irreversibly?

“Maria—“

“My name is Marinette, actually,” she corrected him with a small smile. “I’m not Maria Al-Ghul anymore. Marinette Dupain-Cheng is actually useful, Damian. I can actually do things right— I’m doing something right right now. Beating Hawkmoth will be the first worthwhile thing I’ve ever done, don’t you see? Once it’s all over, I will have brought honor back to our blood. I’ll have proved to you that I really am your twin, that I wasn’t a mistake. That I was born for a reason,” Marinette’s eyes got dreamy even as Damian just felt like he was impaled again, this time by a spike of ice rather than a sword. “And I’ll be able to die before I ruin it. It’s a perfect scenario.”

“A perfect scenario implies that nothing important is going to be lost,” Damian breathed. Marinette just blinked.

“Yeah, I know. That’s the plan. Defeat Hawkmoth, save Paris, and nobody dies.”

“But you’re going to die!” He growled. Marinette leaned back, bewildered by his violent reaction.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I actually matter. Nobody needs me. Tom and Sabine might be hurt for a while, but they will recover just fine. And it’s not like I have friends or any—“

“Stop worrying about other people, damnit!” Damian surged forward, grabbing her shoulders hard enough to bruise and shaking her a little. “Even back then! Even when we were seven, you threw down your blades because you were more worried about hurting me than you were about how Grandfather would react, even though you knew he would be tempted to kill you for what he thought was cowardice! You never put yourself first, and it’s finally starting to piss me off!”

“Damian—“

“No, listen to me!” He shook her again, his tear stained cheeks only making his glare all the more potent as he stared right into her eyes. “You are alive, and your life matters! You were never worthless or useless, you just didn’t fit what our abusive situation wanted of you. They wanted a cold hearted killer, a tool they could use, and you were always too warm hearted and clever to fit either of those goals. But I did, I was the killer they were looking for and the pawn they wanted. If anything, that makes you better than I ever was! I was too young and naive to see it back then, but I’m trying to make up for it now. You are my sister, whether you go by Maria or Marinette, Al-Ghul or Wayne or Dupain-Cheng, I don’t give a damn! And so help me, even if I have to surgically attach those earrings to your skin, I am not letting you die before you gain at least a modicum of respect for yourself. Do you understand me?”

A wet sniffle met his ears, and he pulled Marinette in for a hug. She returned it weakly, sniveling and sobbing into his cape.

“D-d-Damian?”

“Yes, Shaqiqa?”

Another sniffle.

“I-is it really o-okay for me to stay with you?”

“Of course.”

“I-is… is it really oka-ay for… for me to live?”

Damian’s arms tightened around her. “Always. Always, always.”

Marinette buried her face into his shoulder, taking a deep shuddering breath.

“Th-then… I wanna try.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Not sorry. Ha 😎

#mlb x dc #maribat #platonic daminette #bio!dad au #Bio!Dad Bruce Wayne #sibling Daminette #angst #heavy angst #hurt no comfort #or very little comfort anyway #ml x dc #platonic brucinette #twin AU

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simpingforsoftboys · 4 years ago

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Moving In With Them

ft. SakuAtsuOsaSuna

G/N Reader

Thank you so much for the request anon! I spent a few moments just imagining this and omg it’d be a hot mess! Also I added some stuff at the beginning cause I just felt like I had to explain how this was even possible aha-

The Odds of Us All readers- you can consider this a part of the series or just read it as a oneshot! But either way this Y/n can be read as either male or female~

Okay so I HC that Tomas (MSBY) was transferred overseas- so that opened a position for a new middle blocker... and luckily the third Miya in the D1 men’s volleyball scene just so happened to be interested in being transferred... now MSBY has not 2- but 3 Miya’s! Naturally this means Suna-Miya needs to move to Osaka ;)

Prior to the transfer Suna and Y/n had been living together in a nice apartment in Hiroshima

Meanwhile SakuAtsuOsa were over in Hirikata (which is in Osaka Prefecture) living together in their own place

SakuAtsu were obviously contracted with MSBY, while Osamu ran a branch of Onigiri Miya in Osaka City (which is abt a 34 or so minute drive according to Google)

Atsumu had heard about Tomas’s sudden interest in moving abroad and had brought the subject up to Suna on the dl

So the three of them had been planning everything so that it was ideal for Suna to be brought over to MSBY

It wasn’t until it was all finalized in the paperwork that Suna and Atsumu realized they hadn’t told any of their partners or even thought of moving

Are we really surprised though? The both of them weren’t exactly in college prep in high school- and for good reason

ANYWAYS- the twin’s and Sakusa’s home was not big enough for four people

Then they realized you might have to stay in Hiroshima for work

Luckily for them- once they finally brought up the topic with you- it turned out you had actually been offered a promotion, though you needed to transfer to your company’s head quarters in Osaka

Definitely destiny

Oh but you, Kiyoomi, and Osamu were not happy at being left out of the loop for literal MONTHS

Getting the place:

Okay so Hirikata is a small- and I mean S M A L L city, with less than an estimated one million residents

So there’s not many housing options that fit your prerequisites

Because of this ya’ll settle on finding a nice place in Osaka City

Eventually- after much searching- you find a (pretty large) property (because budgets aren’t a thing with ya’ll) that’s just perfect!

Ofc you’re buying it ASAP

It takes a hot minute before you move in though- since everyone wants some work done on the place before ya’ll move in

Osamu insists on having all the kitchen’s appliances replaced with new, state of the art ones (makes sense though, his livelihood is all about food quality)

Your volleyball pro partners (mainly Atsumu and Kiyoomi- Rin’s just content with whatever) are having the basketball gym remodeled into a volleyball one- complete with a mini locker-room-esque washroom area

All Suna cared about was having an in home theatre- complete with a legit snack bar (we love his priorities)

Sakusa had the pool drained and deep cleaned and made sure that the mini beach volleyball court that was set up in the yard had entirely fresh sand

Kiyo also had the toilets replaced + the washer and dryers. And even hired extra (trusted) cleaners to thoroughly clean the bathrooms (because he doesn’t trust any seller to do a good job)

Ya’ll spent hella money on the house and you didn’t even move in yet

Finally moving in:

None of you guys lifted a finger when moving your stuff (much to Osamu and Kiyoomi’s chargin)

This was actually because the guy’s trainers and coaches didn’t want to risk them straining or hurting themselves with heavy lifting

I can’t imagine Suna would actually help lift anything though

So you hired movers

Kiyoomi had ya’ll thoroughly wipe the furniture and stuff once the movers left- hating that he had to let them contaminate his belongings

At least he was polite when they were around... right?

Osamu was not happy when he had to help Atsumu unpack the clothes... esp since majority of it is Tsumu’s

“What the hell is this?” Is something you’d hear from him quite a lot

“I got it at Bo’s party a few years back! Cool huh?” Yeah, Tsumu’s kinda hoarding clothes

“The pits have holes.... and it’s stained with beer- lemme just toss it-”

“NO-”

Gross Atsumu

Suna is helping unbox stuff for the sitting room (fancy ig-) and using his height to put everything on the shelves

Honestly he’s procrastinating and using this time to look through every. single. book.

Drives you crazy istg

“Rin are yo- seriously? It’s been two hours why are you just sitting on the floor? Nothing’s put away-”

“Look at this it’s from university-” He says, holding up an old yearbook...

It’s because of this, you and Osamu are probably the ones to get the sitting room situated later

Kiyoomi is... probably binge cleaning all the stuff as soon as he pulls them out of the boxes

Yes, he wiped everything before packing it away but what if some disgusting b u g s hitched a ride?

It’s fine if everything’s cluttered on the floor/bed/counter/wherever he’s unboxing stuff atm- at least he knows it’s clean and not dirty

You have to actually be the one to put the stuff away while he wipes- lest he run out of space

It works surprisingly well all things considered

“Oh no...” He’s finally unboxing the cleaning supplies... but he’s out of disinfectant wipes and can’t wipe them down- thus rendering them useless (in his opninion)

“Kiyoomi just... grab the unopened wipes from the box- open it- and use those to wipe the rest of the supplies?” You suggest. Although hesitant he does as told... until he sees something that proves all his fears valid.

“Holy shi- THERE’S A SPIDER! I KNEW IT WOULD FOLLOW US!” He says very loudly, scrambling away from the dead spider AND the supplies

Needless to say you have to make a trip to the store to buy him more wipes- meanwhile one of your other partners have to go pick up and throw away the arachnid

Also while all this is going on- someone (Tsumu actually) has to make sure the bedsheets and blankets are all washed before putting them on the bed for the night (again in case of the bugs)

This is the only thing he doesn’t half ass tbh, since he knows it’s important to Omi-Omi

Ya’ll finish the day with a lovely shower

Well Osamu, Kiyoomi, and you do

The shower in ya’lls bathroom is N I C E and H U G E! Like it’s the type with jets on the floor and walls, plus it has that really nice overhead rain fall like shower head

Atsumu and Rintaro are relaxing in your custom made jacuzzi tub that costed more than a car-

The tub is really awesome too, big enough to fit all five of you comfortably and has powerful jets to massage any knots out

Rip to the water bill though like that thing’s expensive- on god

Anyway that’s just the first day and daily life promises to be exciting 😭

#answered.requests #haikyuu poly au #miya atsumu x reader #miya osamu x reader #suna rintaro x reader #miya twins x reader #sakuatsu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sunaosa x reader

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just-dreaming-marvel · 4 years ago

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I’m From Brooklyn, Too ~ 143

OUT OF TIME MASTERLIST

I’M FROM BROOKLYN, TOO MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,785ish

Summary: The plan is finalized and the team begins to get the Stones.

Warning: tread carefully and don’t hate me

Notes: You must read Out Of Time in order to understand this. The chapter numbers continue from Out Of Time. (gifs aren’t mine)

Y/N woke up in the morning, tucked into her bed. Alone. It wasn’t all that surprising, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. She slowly got ready for the day and met everyone out in the conference room. She sat away from the group as they began to go over the Tesseract and the Mind Stone. The original Avengers, except Y/N and Thor, talked about the two Stones together, having shared experiences with both Stones.

“Y/N,” Steve called. “Anything to add?”

She rubbed her hand nervously. “Nope,” she responded, clearly not okay. “You guys covered it all.” She stood up. “You guys continue, I’m just going to go get some air.”

Y/N quickly left, leaving the others to share worried glances. She made her way to her bedroom and out to the balcony. Sitting down on one of the chairs, she put her head in her hands.

“Hey,” Steve greeted, coming to sit beside her. “You okay?”

“No,” Y/N responded. She bit her bottom lip and looked up at the sky. “I… I’ve screwed everything up.”

“What? How?”

“I’m still in love with Bucky… and Tony knows.”

“Y/N, I—“

“Don’t say anything, Steve. Nothing you can say could make this any better. I’m in love with Bucky. And I’ve ruined my daughter’s family. And you’re angry at me for keeping secrets, which you don’t even know the half of.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I-I can’t… I can’t do this right now.” She stood up, Steve following.

“No. I need an explanation.”

“You need an explanation? Well I need a break. Can we just go back in there and focus on the task at hand? We need to finish going through everything before I decide to run home and never leave my child’s side again.”

“You can’t just ignore this.”

“Oh, I can. And I have been for years. There’s nothing more you can say, Steve, to make me say anything else.” The twins stared each other down. “Drop it, Steve. We should go back inside before people start doubting me more than they are.”

Steve huffed and left for where the others were. Y/N took her time going from the balcony and into her bedroom. Tony was there when she walked in.

“I heard,” he commented. “He’ll come around.”

“No he won’t,” Y/N said. “I’ve broken his trust. Just like I have yours.”

“Y/—“

“You don’t have to lie, Tony. I know that I hurt, too.”

Tony sighed. “That’s true. But that doesn’t mean I won’t fight side by side with you until I can’t anymore.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s true.” He waltzed over and offered her his hand. “Let’s stick together, shall we?” Y/N took his hand and Tony pulled her up.

~~~

The team has spent a majority of the day listening to everyone talk about the Stones. They had also tried to piece together a final plan, but they were struggling to do so. Y/N was with a majority of the team in the kitchen and dining area when Tony, Natasha, and Bruce came rushing in.

“There’s 3 Stones in New York!” Natasha exclaimed.

“What?” Steve questioned, furrowed brows.

“In 2012, during the Battle of New York,” Bruce began explaining, “there was the Space Stone, the Mind Stone, and the Time Stone.”

“Holy shit,” Y/N gasped.

“We’ve figured it out,” Tony said, smiling proudly at Y/N. “We’re going to get them back.”

“Did you happen to figure out a plan?” Steve wondered.

“We did,” Natasha said.

The plan and assignments were quickly given out and explained.

2012 - New York City

Mind Stone: Steve

Space Stone: Clint, Natasha, and Scott

Time Stone: Bruce

2013 - Asgard

Reality Stone: Thor and Rocket

2014 - Morag and Vormir

Power Stone: Nebula and Rhodey

Soul Stone: Tony and Y/N

“Alright, we have a plan,” Steve said after everything was discussed. “Six Stones, three teams. One shot. Get some rest and we’ll meet up bright and early in the morning.”

Everyone nodded and broke off to go do their own things. Tony came over and pressed a kiss to Y/N’s temple.

“I’ll meet you in our room,” he whispered. “I have something I want to do before.”

“Are you okay?” She asked.

“I’m fine. Go call Morgan and I’ll catch up.”

He gave her one last forehead kiss before heading off. Y/N began making her way to her room when Steve stepped in front of her.

“Can I help you?” She asked.

“Can I trust you?” Steve asked, gruffly.

“What?”

“You’ve been keeping secrets, still are. I need to know that I can trust you to successfully do the job that needs to be done.”

“You can’t be serious, Steve.”

“I am very serious.”

“I can’t even believe you right now. You really doing this now? After everything?”

“I just need to know that I can trust you. You have secrets and your secrets have secrets, and I know that I don’t even know everything yet. And I’m your brother.”

“You have secrets too, Steve. But why am I getting all the heat? One of your secrets even forced me on the run and was one of the causes of my miscarriage. Yet you don’t see me pushing you about it. Let it all go.” She turned around. “I’ll get the job done, Captain. I always do.”

~~~

“I’m so glad you had fun today, Mo!” Y/N smiled at her daughter on the screen. “That makes me so happy.”

“Are you and daddy having fun?” She asked, sitting up more in her bed.

“Always,” Tony answered loudly, coming into the room and sitting at Y/N’s side.

“Daddy!”

“Hey, sweetheart! You being good?”

“Of course!” She giggled. “When are you two coming home?”

“Soon, sweetheart, soon.”

“Hopefully just a few more days,” Y/N clarified.

“I miss you guys!”

“We miss you too, honey.”

“It’s bedtime though,” Tony said. “We love you and we will talk to you tomorrow.”

“Love you 3000!”

Y/N hung up and began nervously twirling her phone in her hand. Tony could tell that she was nervous about tomorrow. He moved so that he was sitting in front of her.

“We’re going to be fine,” he said.

“You don’t know that,” she responded quietly, avoiding eye contact.

“No, I don’t.” Tony moved so that he was in her line of sight. “But I do know that both of us will do whatever we have to, to get the Stone and come back to Morgan.”

She met his gaze with teary eyes. “I’m terrified.”

He grabbed her hand. “I know.”

He leaned in, kissing Y/N softly and yet passionately all at once. She quickly kissed back, moving her hands to hold onto the back of his neck. Together, they moved so that Y/N was lying down and Tony was over her.

“Are you okay with this?” Y/N whispered against Tony’s lips.

“Of course,” he replied. “We might not come back tomorrow, right?”

“Right.”

“Let’s live like it’s our last night.”

~~~

Everyone was suited up and had their needed gear before they headed to the platform. They all headed onto it as Bruce stopped at the control panel.

“Five years ago, we lost. All of us,” Steve began a speech. “We lost friends… We lost family… We lost a part of ourselves. Today, we have a chance to take it all back. You know your teams, you know your missions. Get the stones, get them back. One round trip each. No mistakes. No do-overs. Most of us are going somewhere we know. But it doesn't mean we should know what to expect. Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight of our lives. And we're gonna win.” Tony and Steve gave each other a look. “Whatever it takes. Good luck.”

“He’s pretty good at that,” Rocket made a comment to Scott.

“Right?” Scott responded, excitedly.

“Alright. You heard the man. Stroke those keys, jolly green,” Tony said.

“Tractors engaged,” Bruce informed.

Rocket came over and handed his shrunken ship, the Benatar, to Tony. “You promise to bring that back in one piece, right?” Rocket questioned.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Ratchet,” Tony responded. “I’ll do my best.”

“As promises go, that was pretty lame.”

Everyone was in their place as the center of the platform opened. Natasha turned to Tony and smiled.

“See you in a minute,” she said.

Tony gave a small smile back before they all shrunk and entered the Quantum Realm. Rhodey, Tony, Y/N, and Nebula landed on Morag. Looking around, Y/N felt a strong buzzy in her head. She groaned, holding her hands to her ears.

“Y/N?” Tony called, concerned.

He put a hand on her back. She began gasping as she could feel the Stones connect with her.

“What will happen, must happen,” the Stones gravelly voice entered her head. “We will stop you, until it’s time to stop him.”

“Y/N?” Rhodey tried.

“Th-the Stones,” Y/N panted, softly. “I can feel them again… We—we’re connected.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Tony asked.

“Yeah… I got it.”

Giving Y/N unconvinced looks, they all worked to get the Benatar to its normal size. Nebula flew it up so that they could lower the smaller ship inside it.

“Alright. Bring it down Blue,” Rhodey said, guiding Nebula. “Right on that line. That’s it. Down, down.”

“Hey, can we hurry it up?” Tony asked.

“Guys, chop-chop,” Y/N pushed. “Come on. We’re on a clock.”

“All that, is really helpful,” Rhodey responded as Nebula finished lowering the smaller ship.

Y/N smiled as she walked up and hugged Rhodey. “Take care, okay?”

“Yeah. As long as you take are of him.”

“Always.”

“Take that Stone and come back,” Rhodey pulled away. “No messing around.”

Y/N nodded and walked back so Tony could give his friend a hug. Nebula landed the Benatar and exited it.

“Hey. You got this,” Tony told Rhodey, pulling back from their hug.

“Let’s get it done.”

“Yes, sir.” Tony walked over to meet Y/N on the ship’s ramp.

“You guys watch each others’ six.”

Y/N flashed Rhodey another smile before Tony and her disappeared into the ship. Y/N could tell that being in the Benatar was bringing back memories for Tony. He walked up to the front seats, running his hand down one of them.

“You okay?” Y/N asked.

“Always,” he replied, flashing a brief smile.

Y/N followed Tony’s lead in piloting the ship. Getting off of Morag, Tony had the ship speeding off. Y/N and Tony looked at each other.

“It’s a long way from Malibu,” Tony commented.

Y/N laughed. “That seems like forever ago.”

It didn’t take too long for them to arrive at Vormir. As they landed, they took in the planet. It was sandy, yet there were ponds littered everywhere. The only thing that stood out was the large mountain like structure, not too far off.

“Under different circumstances, this would be totally awesome,” Tony commented.

“I thought you hated space?” Y/N questioned.

“Oh, I do. Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate it.”

Tony suited up in his Iron Man armor before the couple exited the ship. The shrunk the ship back up and stored it in one of Y/N’s pockets. The two walked to the mountain and up it.

“I bet the raccoon didn’t have to climb a mountain,” Tony commented.

“Technically, he’s not a raccoon, you know,” Y/N replied.

“Whatever. He eats garbage.”

“Welcome,” a voice interrupted.

Tony’s helmet swiftly covered his face and he lifted his armored hand up, as Y/N aimed her gun up at the man.

“No,” she gasped when she saw the man’s voice. “Red Skull.”

“Y/N, daughter of Joseph,” the floating man continued. “Tony, son of Maria.”

“How the hell did you get here?”

“The Stones have chosen me as a guide. To you, and to all who seek the Soul Stone.”

“Oh, goodie. You tell us where it is,” Tony ordered. “Then we’ll be on our way.”

“Ah, if only it were that easy.”

Red Skull began floating away. Tony and Y/N shared a look before following after the hooded man. They were led to the edge of the cliff.

“What you seek lies in front of you,” the guide explained. “As does what you fear.”

Y/N peeked over the edge. “The Stone is down there,” she said. “I can feel it.”

“For one of you. For the other… in order to take the Stone, you must lose that which you love. An everlasting exchange. A soul, for a soul.” Then he disappeared.

“Where the hell did he go?” Tony asked, spinning around to look at him.

“A soul, for a soul,” Y/N whispered. She was dazed.

Suddenly, the Ancient One’s voice from many years ago was in her head, "The Soul Stone is the most hidden and unknown out of all the Stones. Very few know it’s location, or the powers it possesses. I don’t even know it’s location, but I do know the price it requires to retrieve it… A soul for a soul.”

Tony’s helmet disappeared back into his suit as he noticed Y/N’s expression. “Y/N?” He slowly came up to her. “Y/N? What’s going on?”

��I’m so sorry,” she tried not to cry as she teared up. She looked at him, shaking her head slightly. “I should have never let you come here. I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“One of us has to die in order for us to get the Stone… That’s why Nebula’s sister never came back from here… Thanos sacrificed her.”

“No.” Tony shook his head. “No. Maybe he’s making this shit up.”

“No. I know he’s not. I… I was warned years ago, I just didn’t understand it then… Tony, I am so sorry.” A tear trailed down her cheek. “Please tell Morgan that I love her.”

“No, no, no, no. You are not going to be the one to do this. If anyone is going to sacrifice themselves, it’s me. You were meant for more, and our daughter needs you.”

“She needs you too. I can’t let you do this.”

“You don’t have a choice,” Red Skull interrupted. “You are what ends this once and for all. The Stones will not let you sacrifice yourself, or stop the necessary sacrifice.”

“See?” Tony shot out his hand, pointing to the guide. “Even he knows. I have to be the one to do this.”

“No.” Y/N let the tears fall freely now. “No. Morgan needs her father.”

“Not as much as she needs her mother.” Tony stepped closer, cupping her cheeks. “I have to do this. Let me be the hero she thinks I am.”

“You’re already a hero, Tony… to so many people, but no more than Morgan and I.”

“This will just seal it then.” He brushed some fingers against her cheek. “I love you, Y/N Rogers-Stark. Always have, always will.”

“I love you too.” Tony pulled her in for a heated kiss, slowly turning them so that his back was facing the cliff. “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry.”

“I know. Here…” He tapped his chest, his suit disappearing into the reactor before he took it off his chest and handed it to Y/N. “You’re going to need this more than I will.”

“Tony—“

“Give it to Peter or Harley. Maybe make them fight for it. Or, keep it for Morgan. We both know that no matter what, she’ll follow in our footsteps.” He pulled her in for another kiss. “I’ll say hello to AJ for you.” Pushing Y/N away slightly, he caused her to stumble back and fall. “I love you. And remind Morgan that I love her 3000.”

“Please, Tony, I—“

“It will be okay. I promise.”

He looked in her eyes before letting himself fall back over the cliff.

“NOOO!” Y/N screamed, crawling to the edge of the cliff.

She looked over just as Tony hit the ground. Blood immediately began pooling around his head and drooling out of his mouth. Y/N bowed her head and sobbed.

“No,” she cried out. “Tony… No…"

A boom in the sky sent Y/N suddenly appearing in a pool of water. Still sobbing, she felt something in her hand. She opened her hand to reveal the Soul Stone. Clutching it close to her chest, she began sobbing more and a voice filled her ears.

“You are free to stop what is coming… It is time.”

next chapter >

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monicashipslokius · 3 years ago

Text

Soulmates, Actually Pt 4

(read part 1/part 2/part 3)

A sharp, shrill alarm blares before the sun has even risen, rousing Loki from a perfect slumber. Loki groans their disgust, but it’s muffled in the meat of Mobius’s shoulder.

“Easy, sunshine,” Mobius says, and the infernal man is actually trying to move.

Loki grumbles louder. Mobius, chuckling, eases Loki away from him and onto the pillow instead. It’s not the same - too soft and not nearly warm enough. Loki clings tighter around Mobius’s waist in retaliation.

“We talked about this,” Mobius says. “I have to go back to work today.”

Loki huffs in frustration as they let Mobius remove their hold and lower their arms to the bed. The pillow is a poor replacement.

For a moment, Mobius brushes Loki’s hair back away from their face. His fingers linger, feather-light, at the edge of Loki’s cheekbone. Too soon, the touch is gone.

“I’ll be back at six pm sharp.”

Loki rolls onto Mobius’s side of the bed and falls asleep again.

When they awaken, the sun is bright and the sheets are cool. Loki’s stomach rumbles. They groan as they pull themself out of bed and finally face the day.

The long, lonely day.

A week has passed since Thor’s departure - a week of Loki and Mobius redecorating and cuddling and learning each other.

They bought six plants of varying sizes, new drapes the color of the ocean, and a soft bedspread to match. Mobius fixed up the broken bathroom door, and Loki hung a few new art pieces and string lights.

The La-Z-Boy they arranged in front of a small boxy television set became a fast favorite.

“What did I tell you?” Mobius said the first time Loki relaxed deeply into the recliner. “It’s the perfect throne.”

Mobius may not understand color palettes, but the man knows comfort.

“It will do for now,” Loki told him, not wanting to give too much away.

Mobius’s smile never wavered. “Mmhm.”

Now, Loki drags themself to the kitchen to make a sandwich. Ten minutes later, they are perched on the recliner, plate on their lap, watching soap operas on television.

Claudio is surprised to find that his fiance Regina’s twin sister Georgina has been behind all of his misfortune, but the plot twist has Loki rolling their eyes.

“Amateurs.” Loki bites into an apple slice.

The hours tick by. Loki watches the anchor-shaped clock that hangs in the kitchen - much of their new decor has an ocean theme. But the more Loki watches the clock, the slower time seems to pass.

Time flew by with Mobius here. But without him...

After the soap operas, the courtroom shows begin. And then the news programs. Loki walks laps around the apartment while listening to the weather forecast for the third time - partly cloudy with a 30% chance of rain. The cost of gasoline is skyrocketing. The local high school football team might make county finals, whatever that means.

At quarter to six, Loki thanks the cosmos. Finally. Mobius will be home and put an end to this monotony.

Loki cleans up a bit, dusting some crumbs off the arms of the recliner. They place the plates in the sink.

Then, because they don’t want to appear too eager, they grab a book and stretch out on the bed.

Six o’clock comes and goes. Mobius does not arrive.

By seven, Loki is annoyed.

By eight, they are angry.

By ten, they are concerned.

Dubuque seems relatively safe. And Mobius has lived here alone for a long time before Loki.

But Loki has enemies. Many, many enemies. All of whom would be more than happy to get their hands on their soulmate.

Mobius is probably fine.

But what if he’s not?

At eleven, they are examining the photo of his office building that Mobius keeps on the dresser. Mobius had taken them to see it in the past week, though they hadn’t gone inside. It wasn’t too far a walk, if they recall. Loki is certain that they could find it again, even in darkness.

So they change into a black suit and hurry out the door. The Dubuque city streets are barren this time of night. Loki encounters no one on their trek to the office - until they barge through the front door and are stopped by a security guard.

Loki promised Mobius that they would not hurt anyone, so instead they create a projection of themself to distract the guard while they themself head toward the elevators. Following the signs for the data analytics department, they ride the elevator to the fourth floor.

They step off the elevator into a darkened field of cubicles. Each is the same - small desk, computer, and chair. All are empty. But Loki isn’t alone here. They follow a light through the cubicle maze and come to one that is occupied.

Mobius has a foot-high pile of files on his desk. He’s tapping at his computer keyboard with the index finger of each hand and peering at the small monitor.

“Mobius?”

Mobius jumps, then clutches his chest. He exhales when he sees Loki standing in the opening of his 3ft x 4ft cell. “Give a guy a warning next time.” He smiles. “But it’s good to see you. How’d you get here? Security let you in?”

Loki only frowns at him. “You said you’d be back at six.”

Mobius’s smile loses some of its brightness. “I have to work a little late. Next time we go out, we’ll get you a phone so I can call and let you know -”

“’A little late?’ Mobius, it’s been hours. I thought you were...” They won’t give name to their truest fears. That Mobius had been kidnapped or killed. Or perhaps that he had finally seen the true darkness in Loki and left of his own free will.

Mobius shakes his head. “Come on, Loki. It hasn’t been that long. It’s only...” He glances at his monitor. “Midnight? That can’t be right.”

“I assure you that is accurate.”

Mobius sits back in his squeaking chair, and rubs his hands over his face. “I’m sorry...” He releases a drawn out sigh and his whole body droops. “Boss was cheesed that I bailed on the conference. I have a lot of work to make up.”

The stack of folders towers over Mobius’s slouched shoulders.

“Would it helped if I -”

“You can’t kill him,” Mobius says.

Loki closes their mouth. Tries again. “He needn’t be killed. I could simply... frighten him.”

Mobius shoots Loki a flat look.

“Fine,” Loki says, disappointed. “But what is your intention? To stay here all night?”

Mobius side-eyes the folder mountain. “I’m going to have to.”

“No.”

Mobius sighs. “Loki -”

“This is a place of employment, Mobius, not a living space.”

“It’s my own fault. I should have come back sooner.” He rubs at the corner of one eye. “Maybe I should have stayed at the conference.”

The words stab Loki between the ribs.

“Magicking away was not my best idea,” Mobius says. “I shouldn’t have run from my responsibilities. I’ll never catch up on this work.”

More stabs, a thousand tiny cuts.

“So you regret everything,” Loki says, fighting hard to keep the hurt from their voice. They are disappointed by their own surprise, their own pain. They had thought Mobius was different. They should have known.

Thor was wrong when he said no one could hold Loki’s interest. It was the other way around. Loki protected themself by leaving before the other could get bored. They should have done that here.

But they thought...

Mobius is supposed to be their perfect match.

“No, hey,” Mobius jumps from his chair. That’s all it takes to put him in Loki’s space. Loki takes a step back. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t regret everything, just some things.”

“You regret coming with me when we escaped.”

“N-no,” he says, but not without hesitation.

“You could have stayed. They weren’t chasing you. You could have told them I brainwashed you and gone on with your day.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” The bags are heavy under Mobius’s eyes. He’s tired, Loki knows that - but Loki’s tired too. Sitting, waiting, stressing.

The room sparks with tension. Loki’s pain festers under their skin.

And Mobius regrets.

Loki takes a breath, searching for calm. For understanding. For their soulmate. “Come home,” they say, “And we can continue talking in the morning.”

Mobius exhales again, too sharp. He places his hands on his hips and looks at that damned pile of folders again. “I can’t go anywhere.”

“Mobius -”

“This is my life, Loki,” Mobius tells him. “Data analysis is my life. You have to understand that.”

Something dark in Loki’s chest snaps clean in half. “This is your life. This.” They wave a hand around. “This tiny box in a sea of tiny boxes. Where everyone else has left you here in the dark. Where your employer buries you under papers so deep that you cannot find your way out of them. Is all this extra work truly because you left the conference? How often would you work late before I arrived?”

Mobius looks away, and Loki knows they’re right. The answer, too often.

“Are you at least receiving additional benefits for all this extra time spent here?”

Mobius still won’t look at them.

“They are taking advantage of you, of your loyalty, and you are letting them.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mobius snaps, the sharpest he’s ever spoken to Loki.

Loki stands taller. They’re used to anger, to cutting words, to pain - more than they were ever used to kindness.

“I am trying to protect you,” Loki says.

“I don’t need protection from my job.”

For one wild moment, Loki thinks of grabbing those folders and tossing them across the room. They dream of throwing Mobius over their shoulder and saving them from this drab place and its tan carpet and eggshell walls.

Instead, they insist, “No, you do. You owned three photos when I first met you: one of your parents, one of a jetski, and one of this office. Can you not see how depressing that is?”

Mobius face hardens.

“You are meant for better things than this. When was the last time you even rode a jetski? Or had fun of any kind?”

“I’m an adult. I don’t need fun.”

“That is absurd.”

Mobius’s brows draw together. “Listen, not all of us could be born into royalty, and just go around doing whatever we want all the time.”

Born into royalty. A fresh sting, not one Mobius could know would hit so hard. But it does all the same. Loki steps backward from the force of it.

Mobius unhooks his arms. “Loki -”

Loki shakes their head. Mobius watches them, confusion replacing frustration, followed quickly by concern. He lifts his hand, but Loki steps back again, further out of reach.

“It’s fine,” Loki says, lying. “Stay as long as you like.” They bury the pain down deep. It’s familiar, an old, hated friend. “I wouldn’t dare dream of treading on your unhappiness.”

Mobius drops his hand. “I am happy. I am perfectly happy.”

“Good,” Loki says.

“Great,” Mobius says.

“Wonderful.”

“Fantastic.”

They stare hard at each other. Loki refuses to look away first.

When Mobius finally does, turning back to his cubicle and his chair and the stack of folders, disappointment floods through Loki.

They don’t wait to be dismissed, they turn and leave on their own.

Loki does not return to the apartment. Instead, they walk and they walk and they walk. They almost hope to be accosted by vagrants, so as to release some restless energy in a fight, but they see no one. They reach a river and follow it into a forest.

They sit along the riverbank and watch the sunlight crest over the trees.

Maybe they shouldn’t have surrendered the scepter. With the tesseract, they could have traveled anywhere. Now they are limited to the distance of their own two legs. Not that they would know where to go anyway.

The only place they want to be is back at the apartment with Mobius.

It’s evening when they eventually make their way back there. Their stomach growls, and they’re thirsty and tired. With some food and a good night’s rest, perhaps they could leave again with a plan this time. Hire a taxi to an airport and take a plane. Find a city of decadence and lose themself for a few decades.

They don’t expect Mobius to be home. It’s only shortly after seven, far too early for his beloved late nights. Yet as they place the key into the lock and start to turn, they barely have time to remove it before being yanked forward into the apartment and into a crushing embrace.

“Don’t leave me,” Mobius says. His arms are sure around Loki’s waist. His nose is buried in the crook of Loki’s neck and shoulder. His words are muffled by Loki’s forest-dirty suit coat. “I’m not happy. I haven’t been in a long time. Not until you. And not without you.”

Loki sags into his arms, and he holds tighter, keeping Loki upright. Keeping them safe. They close their eyes and let the warmth of Mobius’s body chase away the chill of the Iowa evening air.

“You scared the hell outta me,” Mobius says, voice shaky. “I looked for you everywhere, but I kept checking here. I kept hoping you’d come back. I’m so sorry.” Mobius leans back. He reaches up and cups Loki’s face between his palms. Gently, he rubs his thumbs over Loki’s cheekbones. “I want to be good for you.”

“How could you think you’re not?”

Regret shines in Mobius’s eyes now, more than it ever did during their argument. “I hurt you. I don’t want to ever do that again.”

Loki places their hand over one of Mobius’s on their face. “I hurt you, too, I suspect.”

“No, everything you said was right.” He swallows. “Work’s all I had for so long, and when I was back there, and they started piling it on... Everyone else in that office has always had someone, so before I would take on the extra work myself. It was better than coming home alone. It’s a hard habit to break. Loki, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to do this.” But Loki still wants to hear it. Each of Mobius’s words are a balm over their pain. Mobius keeps going. He doesn’t even stop for breath.

“I lashed out at you, and I only did that because you were right. And I didn’t want to hear it. But then you were gone.”

“I’m here,” Loki says. “I’m here now.”

“I am a lousy soulmate.” Mobius smiles, but it’s too soft, too sad. “After so long alone, I don’t think that I know how to be with somebody. But I want to learn. I want to deserve this, with you.”

“Mobius,” Loki says, and their mending heart threatens to break again. “I am no great prize.”

Mobius starts to laugh. “I’m trying to be serious, Loki.”

“I am too,” Loki says, and whatever Mobius sees on their face stops the laughter. Loki studies the softness in Mobius’s gaze, the adoration, the great care, memorizing as much as they can, in case this is the last time they see it. “I’m a monster.”

Mobius, voice flat and unamused, says, “Be serious.”

“I was not born to royalty. Not like you think,” Loki says and waits. Dread rolls over them in waves, but Mobius does not react more than a slight cant of his head. “I’m not...” It would be easier to show him, but Loki can’t. If they do, Mobius will change all of his sweet words. He won’t stand to share this small apartment with them any longer, and Loki will be back on that riverside. “How you see me is not... how I am.”

Mobius is patient. Mobius waits. Maybe Loki wasn’t wrong about Mobius after all. Maybe Mobius, like them, is imperfect and a little afraid but trying.

Slowly, Loki pulls Mobius’s hands from their face so as not to burn him with the cold of their skin as they lift the glamour that hides their Jotunn form.

They want to look away, to hide from the horror they are sure to see on Mobius’s face, but simultaneously are too desperate to see any and every reaction.

Mobius’s eyes grow wide. His lips part. He blinks a few times.

“Loki,” Mobius says, and Loki braces for fresh heartache. But then he smiles, real and true and bright, a lighthouse in a lifetime of hurt. “Blue like the ocean.” The adoration never dims from his eyes. “You are beautiful.”

Mobius insists he doesn’t care, but Loki only feels comfortable again with their glamour restored.

“Either way,” Mobius says, and sends Loki off to the bathroom to shower and change. “I’ll have dinner ready by the time you’re done.”

When Loki leaves the tiny bathroom in their silk pajamas, they find the small two-person table lit by candlelight. Mobius stands beside it, wearing one of the dark suits Loki picked out for him at the store, with a deep green tie that’s slightly askew.

“What’s all this?” Loki asks.

“I know we’re soulmates, and our fates are destined and everything,” Mobius says, tugging at his collar. A bit of pink dusts his cheeks. “But some things should be done the old fashioned way. I want to win your heart, so I thought...” He clears his throat. “I want to wine and dine you. Properly.”

“Ah.” Loki slides further into the room, heart lighter than it’s been in the past forty-eight hours. All the lingering hurts are mended. And Mobius looks delectable in that suit, just as Loki thought he would. Loki strides right up to him, reaches out, and adjusts his tie. “You are attempting to seduce me.”

Mobius’s cheeks redden. He glances away for the briefest of moments before his eyes return to Loki’s face.

“You are everything a guy could want,” Mobius says. “More than I ever dreamed.”

Loki finishes fixing Mobius’s tie, but leaves their hands flat on Mobius’s chest. Mobius takes one and brings it to his mouth. He places a kiss to Loki’s palm.

Loki shivers, but not from any cold.

“Loki,” Mobius says, giving so much weight to the name - things unspoken, maybe not ready to be said, but are known - so known, and ready to be shown.

Mobius leans, and Loki stays very still, waiting, wanting but so, so afraid.

Mobius stops just out of reach. His breath hot on Loki’s lips, he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

Loki swallows all their fear and whispers, “Please.”

Mobius closes the distance and presses their lips together.

Fireworks ignite in Loki’s chest. Their heart thunders. Their hands itch for more, so they grab Mobius by the shoulders and hold, clinging, ruining the new suit and not caring at all.

Mobius cups Loki’s jawline, guiding them closer, tilting gently, positioning Loki just as he wants them. Loki goes willingly, opening their mouth as Mobius licks his way inside.

They should have done this long ago. They should do this all the time. This should never, ever stop.

Loki moans as Mobius’s fingers comb into their hair. Mobius breaks for air, tilts his head, and comes back for more. Loki holds Mobius so close, they are certain their heart beats straight into Mobius’s chest.

It’s perfect, passion incarnate, and Loki wants so much that they -

Loki’s stomach growls. Loudly.

Mobius smiles against Loki’s lips.

Loki groans as Mobius plants one more soft kiss and pulls away.

“Wining and dining time,” he says with a wink.

Loki is both endeared and annoyed. “I will have more of this.” His stomach grumbles again. “After dinner.”

Loki doesn’t miss the flush of Mobius’s cheeks, even as his easy smile returns. “It would be my absolute pleasure, and I mean that.”

#i wrote this #lokius #wowki #loki x mobius #soulmate au #part 4 of 5 theoretically though the list of scenes i want gets longer every chapter oops #might be 4 of 6 #anyway #fighting cw #making up #that jotunn scene that must be in every long fic #first kiss #i fit a lot in here haha #OH! also #long fic #be warned if you click the read more #ao3 link tomorrow prolly #this one hits a little different than the rest #i really wanted to deal with mobius's workaholism

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clandonnachaidh · 4 years ago

Text

Light Across The Seas That Severed (Ch3)

AO3

Even after years of friendship, of seeing each other through some of the best and some of the hardest times of their lives, Jamie Fraser would still need to catch his breath at the sight of Claire Beauchamp when she really laughed. With her head thrown back, her whisky eyes would screw shut and she would run her long fingers into her beautiful hair in comedic exasperation.

If watching her laugh was a sight to behold, making her laugh was the best thing in the world.

They were sat across from each other surrounded by a pungent cloud of smoke, both of them situated on plush sofas of green leather that was cracked and worn from use. With each passing minute, Jamie felt like the sofa was beginning to swallow him. He made the mistake of voicing his concern to Claire.

She thought the whole thing was hilarious, obviously, and told him so before taking a bite out of the space cake that she had cut down the middle to share.

“Edibles are stronger, you’ll only need half anyway,” she had said in her matter of fact way that she had, taking charge of the situation from the minute they’d stepped foot in the coffee shop.

Jamie Fraser, being the good catholic boy that he was, had never been inside such a place and he certainly hadn’t experienced anything like the Red Light District that they had just walked through. Of course he had heard of Amsterdam’s relaxed laws when it came to sex work and drugs but seeing it first hand was something entirely different. When he caught sight of the first woman in the window, her long blonde hair tumbling around her bare shoulders, he felt the blush rise to the very tips of his ears as Claire just laughed and dragged him by the hand, deeper into the belly of the beast.

The plan had been for them to spend two days in the city before they said goodbye. Claire was following her heart (which took the shape of one Frank Randall, the same bastard who’d stood her up the night that Jamie and Claire had kissed for the first and only time) to Boston where she’d managed to get a placement in a surgical programme while Frank would teach at Harvard. It had taken everything in Jamie not to break when she told him, the smile that she had plastered on her face not quite reaching her eyes as she surveyed his reaction over her coffee cup. He had swallowed the rising panic in his throat and felt as it soured in his stomach but he managed to calm himself long enough to take a deep breath and tell her the truth — that he was proud of her and he would miss her. He would miss her so much.

Jamie knew that she was lying about not being able to book a more straightforward trip from London to Boston and he strongly suspected that she had orchestrated the two day layover in Amsterdam for the sole purpose of asking if he’d like to join her, a mini break that they both sorely needed after an arduous final year at university. He hadn’t even needed to think about it before he agreed and in the week leading up to it, he had struggled to think of anything but watching her as she wandered around the Rijksmuseum, oblivious to the art hanging on the walls when he had his own masterpiece right in front of him.

“I canna believe I’m in such a place wi’ ye, Sassenach, and for breakfast no less,” he said, hearing a laugh that didn’t sound quite like his own. Frowning at himself, he looked across at her as she chuckled kindly at him, her index finger dabbing a crumb from the corner of her mouth before popping it between her lips. The lips that he had tasted just once years ago in what had been agreed as a funny drunken lapse of judgment in a grubby old pub on the edge of their college campus.

“You just need to relax and you’ll enjoy it, I promise,” she said. It had been her idea to get high first thing in the morning and then spend the remainder of their final day together strolling around the museums and parks of the city, allowing themselves to get into the spirit of the place and cut loose for once.

He watched her waggling her eyebrows suggestively, looking to him like furry brown worms, “You seemed to enjoy the ladies outside well enough.”

He went bright red and tried to sit up straighter amongst the sofa cushions that were trying their best to swallow him, “Dinna be daft, ye ken I wouldnae pay a woman to do that sort of thing.”

“A lot of people pay for sex, Jamie, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Two consenting adults and all that.”

He had always known that Claire was a very liberal thinker and she spent a lot of time and energy educating herself on things to broaden her perspective of the world. Jamie admired her for it even if he did enjoy poking fun at her sometimes, just to watch the spark catch fire in her eyes as she told him precisely why he was wrong.

“Aye well, that’s all fine an’ weel but I winna be dealing wi’ it myself, thank ye.”

“Oh, live a little, Fraser. How long has it been since Annalise? Seven months?” She asked him directly as he made a very Scottish noise in the back of his throat in an attempt to dismiss the conversation about his ex-girlfriend.

“I’ll thank ye to leave her out of our weekend,” he warned her jokingly, delighting in the corner of her mouth quirking upwards in amusement. Before he knew it, the words were tumbling out of his mouth, “Besides, Lise and I, we never…”

He watched as Claire’s eyes almost burst from her skull as she leaned forward, her beautiful mouth gaping at his revelation. Why the hell had he told her that? They never spoke about the personal details of their respective relationships, it was the unspoken rule between them. Don’t ask, don’t tell. Jamie could think of nothing worse than sitting and listening to Claire regale him of her sexual exploits with the uptight historian. It also meant that Claire didn’t know exactly how much sex Jamie wasn’t having.

“Never?! You were together for a year!” The amazement in her voice was evident and Jamie flopped backwards in the sofa, raising his hands to his face. He cursed the effects of the marijuana that had relaxed him to the point where he was divulging information that he would usually keep behind his teeth.

“Never, okay?”

“Wow… okay… not sure what to do with that but okay,” she mirrored his body language, collapsing back onto her sofa and tucking her legs up underneath her. “So you’ve not had sex in what, just shy of two years? Good God, you must have the patience of a saint.”

“Something like that,” he mumbled into his palms, refusing to remove them for the fear of her gaze seeing the truth that he was trying desperately to keep hidden but that was on the tip of his very stoned tongue.

“Longer than two years?” He heard her whisper in disbelief.

“Try 24.”

They sat in silence for a few seconds before it became too much, he had to look at her to gauge her reaction to his honesty. He had expected her to laugh or to yell in surprise but he realised that she mostly just looked curious, like she was trying to figure out the answer to the puzzle that was sat opposite her.

“You’re a virgin?” He nodded in response and watched as her shoulders dropped slightly, smiling kindly at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because we dinna talk about things like this,” he sighed. He could see all the questions that were threatening to slip past her lips.

“Have you not wanted to? Because that’s okay, maybe you’re just not into the thought of-“

“Christ, no! No, I’m definitely into the thought of it,” he laughed. “From the age of thirteen to seventeen, I barely thought of anything else. Besides, I said I was a virgin, no’ a monk. I’ve done stuff.”

She laughed at that, “So why not? I’m sorry, you absolutely do not have to tell me but I- just… how? Why?”

“Was just waitin’ on the right woman,” he shrugged in an attempt to appear nonchalant about the whole thing. Whether she was buying it or not, he couldn’t tell but he was certain that if she listened hard enough, she could hear his heart beating out a rhythm in time with the syllables of her name.

Because that was the real truth, wasn’t it? That he had been waiting for her.

She didn’t say anything in response, just leaned to cut the remaining space cake in half again, offering the larger half to Jamie that he almost snatched from her, anything to distance himself from the conversation that they were having.

He was grateful when she left it at that, being able to intuit that he wasn’t comfortable with the line of questioning. That night, when the effects of their morning had worn off, they rented bikes and attempted to navigate the city like the locals did, getting horribly lost and ending up drinking a beer by the canal as the sun went down. Jamie watched as the rays painted her pale skin gold and the wind caught the folds of her sundress, settling the material delicately against her bonnie wee shins. It had been the perfect day and Jamie didn’t want it to end. But he knew that it had to.

In the morning, she was getting on a plane.

“Shall we head back, d’ye think? It’s been a long day,” he said quietly, pulling her out of the daydream that she was sat in. She turned to face him with a dreamy smile on her face as she nudged his shoulder with her head.

“The best day,” she said simply. “Let’s go.”

They walked the short distance back to their hotel in silence, neither of them needing to fill it with words as they just existed in each other’s company. When they got to their hotel room, he made light work of pulling off his hoodie and collapsed onto his twin bed with the remote in his hand as she shut herself in the bathroom, the lock gently clicking behind her. Jamie ran a hand over his tired face and tried to concentrate on the tv. He had an ear for languages, being the proud new owner of a First in Modern Languages and Linguistics from Oxford, but the rules of Dutch seemed to be far removed from that of the French and German, and a little Italian, that naturally clicked together in his brain.

He strained to listen in an attempt to isolate some of the sounds, let his mind create patterns and try to fill in the gaps but he was tired and gave up quickly, punching the pillow that was under his head to prop up his neck a little further so that he could look out of the window. He heard the bathroom door unlock.

That was when he saw her. Really saw her for the first time. And it wasn’t because he could see more of her skin than he had ever seen before but because of the look that was painted on her face. Her beautiful face radiating a vulnerability and softness that he had never seen the depths of before, never as unguarded as she was in that moment. She smiled shyly at him and her hand came to cover her bare stomach slightly. Panic clutched at Jamie’s chest as he watched her wall build itself back up.

He was on his feet before he even knew it, pulling her hand back down to her side and lacing their fingers together.

It was always easier if they touched.

“What are ye doin’, Claire?” He tried to keep his voice soft, to not let the need he was feeling flow out in every word. She blushed and ducked her head, as though looking him in the eye would break the spell.

“I just thought…” she trailed off before defiantly bringing her head up and fixing him with a stare. “I can’t stand the idea of you having your first time with someone who doesn’t appreciate you.”

She had sounded strong and sure but Jamie’s head was birling. He took a step closer to her, so close that he could feel her breath on his chest and looked down at her body, barely an inch of space between them. The swell of her breasts were contained by a lace bra, a lilac so soft that it made her pale skin look like ivory against it. She was wearing matching underwear, just a scrap of material really, and his cock twitched at the thought of what she must look like from behind. The amazing arse of his best friend that he had shamefully lusted after for so long.

He raised the hand that wasn’t tangled with hers to hover over her heart, not quite touching the skin but watching as the goosebumps appeared anyway. She let out a shaky breath through perfectly pursed lips and he knew then what she was doing, the gift that she was giving him. Because she knew or at the very least suspected how he felt about her. She’d have to be blind not to see it.

She was saying goodbye.

“Claire… lass, we dinna have to do this. You dinna have to do this for me,” he whispered but he barely managed to get the words out before she popped up on her toes and closed the gap between them.

For a moment, they stood still. Neither of them moved a muscle for fear of breaking whatever magic had been cast over them. But then his mouth moved instinctively, applying pressure to her lips in an attempt to open them so his tongue could reacquaint itself with hers, so many years since they first kissed. He heard her, felt her, sigh softly and that was all the proof that he needed to wrap his arms around her and pin her to his chest, his mouth greedily seeking hers. Her hands found his face and thinking that she meant to push him away, he immediately let her go and took a step back from her, breath bursting from his lungs.

“I’m so sorry, lass, I didnae mean to get carried away-“

“Jamie, stop. You’re overthinking this,” she interrupted him by pressing her body back to his and put a steady hand on his cheek, his face leaning in to press a kiss to her open palm. The reality of the situation filled him. When the sun came up the next day, she would pack her things and they would travel to the airport to say goodbye. His chest tightened and he exhaled heavily, trying to take a steadying breath but it shattered in his throat and he tried to suck another in. Noticing that he was beginning to panic, Claire urged him to look at her. “It’s just me, Jamie, it’s us. Do you want this? Do you want me?”

“Oh God, yes.”

Their mouths snapped back together and all was right with the world. He couldn’t stop touching her, desperate to elicit sounds from her that she had kept hidden from him for so many years, ones that he thought he’d never have the privilege of hearing. An errant thought passed through his head, that maybe he should feel nervous about his first time, about not satisfying her, but the way that she was reacting to his kiss put his mind at ease. He would take everything in, commit everything to memory and be attentive to what she seemed to like and not like. She was terrible at lying, his Sassenach, and he was secure in the knowledge that he already knew her better than anyone else on this earth.

He was pulled from his thoughts at the feeling of her hands on his zipper and he groaned into their kiss as her hand brushed against his painfully hard cock through the thick material of his jeans. Everything was happening too fast and at the same time, not fast enough. He wished to be utterly consumed by her, to share something that neither of them would ever be able to take back. Something that he knew he would carry with him until the day he died.

Claire’s skilled fingers divested him of his jeans and he refused to break their kiss as he wriggled out of them, swallowing her giggles when she realised what he was up to. He ran his hands from her hips up the soft planes of her body, feeling her delicate ribs under her skin and brushing around the lace of her bra to where it joined in the back. Whether it was intuition or he fact that he practically ripped the clasp apart in blind need, he had no idea, but his fingers fumbled less than he had anticipated.

“I want to see you too,” she whispered against his lips, pulling his t-shirt over his head in one quick movement before she fixed him with a stare, licked her tongue down the palm of her hand as Jamie’s eyes widened in disbelief before her hand disappeared into the waistband of his boxers.

“Christ,” he shuddered, screwing his eyes shut in an attempt to contain the feel of her warm, wet hand on his cock. Her grip was firm on him as his jaw hung open and she greedily claimed his mouth once more as she quickened the pace.

When her mouth disappeared from his, Jamie opened his eyes in confusion to see that she’d dropped to her knees in front of him, her index fingers taking the fabric of his boxers on the same descent. The sight alone nearly undid him but it was nothing compared to the heat that enveloped him as she took him inside her mouth. Fingers immediately threaded through her hair, he squeezed his eyes shut with a gasp as she took him as far back as she could, which was no small task given the size of him. His mind betrayed him with a memory of Annalise trying her hardest but he was never truly convinced that she had wanted to do it, suspecting that she felt like it was an obligation which meant that Jamie could never really enjoy the act. As though she knew that his mind had wandered, Claire’s fingers gripped him tightly as her mouth kept a steady rhythm and his hips jerked forwards instinctively. An attempt at a stuttered apology was on the tip of his tongue but she beat him to it, moaning around him and sending delicious vibrations down his length. Knees buckling slightly at the sensation, Claire’s whisky eyes peered up at him, her lips plump and wet and with a hollowing of her cheeks and a hard suck, she sent him crashing over the edge, moaning her name as he did.

As the stars that had burst into his vision began to fade, he fought to get his breath back, feeling the brush of her body as she got up from her knees.

“Did that feel good?” She whispered as he nodded furiously, bumping their noses together in his enthusiasm. She laughed quietly and went back to kissing him, the feeling of her smile on his lips.

“It was amazing,” he told her. “Thank you.”

She laughed at his earnest gratitude, “I know how you can make it up to me.”

Taking his hand and leading the both of them towards her bed, Claire didn’t allow for too much space to come between their bodies as she lay back and pulled him down with her. Jamie’s mind raced as the sight. How many times had he imagined this? And how pitiful his imagination had been when conjuring it, missing the exquisite details like the way her her skin trembled at his touch and the softness of the sole her foot trailing up the back of his calf as he lay on top of her.

He knew that he was the luckiest man alive as he kissed down her body and a found a freckle on the inside of her thigh. To know the secret parts of her, to have her share them with him when she kept everyone else at arm’s length. How could he not be in love with her?

“Touch me, Jamie.”

He knew that those were the words that would wake him in a sweat for the years to come as he revisited this moment in his dreams. Hearing them fall from her throat was a blessing and he wasn’t one to squander such an invitation. He was trying to be gentle with her so as to not scare her off but in that moment, his trembling fingers became sure and shredded through the thin lace of her underwear, ripping them from her body with a deep growl that he didn’t know he was capable of producing. He felt her body melt into the mattress as his middle finger found her wet centre, her legs quivering in response.

“Oh, my Claire… how beautiful you feel,” he whispered as she moaned loudly, pushing her hips towards him in an attempt to receive more attention. His warm hand left her and closed around her hipbone as he kept her at a distance, blue eyes blazing into whisky ones with so much love that it made her mouth water. Not breaking eye contact, his fingers flexed around her hip, holding her in place as he brought his mouth to her core.

Claire threw her head back against the pillow, mouth agape.

“What the fuck,” she gasped. He had told her that he wasn’t entirely green behind the ears but it was nice to hear the shock in her voice as he set his tongue to work. Within minutes Claire’s body was writhing, one hand fisted in the bedsheets like she was holding on for dear life. It still wasn’t enough and so he shifted his arms underneath her, running them up the length of her back and pulling her closer into his mouth. She squeaked with surprise as she settled her weight onto her shoulders, trusting that Jamie’s strength would hold her steady as he relentlessly licked and nipped at her.

“Jamie, I’m-“

Claire was unable to finish as her words were replaced by a loud moan, Jamie’s growl indicating that he was not willing to let her go without knowing what it felt like for her lose herself on his tongue.

Fingers gripping his curls, Claire pulled slightly and he felt her entire body go rigid as she tried to control the feelings that were coursing through her body. Jamie slid two fingers into her and lightly flicked his tongue against her, holding her steady as she began to convulse in his arms. He was fascinated to learn that she didn’t make a sound, only screwed her eyes shut and let her mouth hang open as she rolled her hips against him, riding out her orgasm.

When he felt her shy away from his tongue, he gave her a final kiss and moved up towards her, delighting in the way that she curled her hand around the back of his neck and brought his mouth down to hers, tasting herself on his lips.

“Not a monk indeed,” she laughed breathily as she ran her fingers through her hair, her eyes shutting slightly as the aftershocks ran through her.

“I’m a man of many talents, if I do say so myself.”

“I wonder what else you’re good at,” she raised a single eyebrow above a pair of seductive eyes and Jamie took the opportunity to press his renewed erection against her thigh.

“Only one way to find out, I suppose.”

Her hands sought out his body again, as though they were always meant to be touching and she moaned a little when she felt that he was hard so soon after his orgasm.

“We can stop here, Jamie. This is your choice. Whatever you want.”

“I want ye so much, I can scarcely breathe. Will ye have me?”

“Yes,” she sighed deliriously, “Yes, I’ll have you.”

“Come here to me, Jamie,” she whispered as she took him in hand and lead him to her opening. He steeled himself, taking a deep breath and basking in the look of wonder on her face, soon replaced by a quiet, exquisite joy as he pushed himself home for the first time.

She was like velvet. Impossibly soft and hot, wet with her need and it was all he could manage not to immediately race to his finish, to take her with a force and a desperation that he knew was painted on his features. With the strength of an army, he stilled himself and raised his face to hers, nearly coming undone when their eyes met.

Claire had never looked at him like that. Her cheeks were flushed from her pleasure, her pupils blown wide and stunned. His soul was laid open to her and hers to him. And he knew that his face showed the unfathomable depth of his love for her, incapable of hiding it when they were joined like this.

Jamie could have stayed that way forever but his physiology had other ideas, his hips responsively snapping into hers. She moaned and tilted her hips to meet him, raising a knee upwards to cradle his side and deepen the angle of him inside of her. Jamie was completely unaware that something could feel this good and he lowered his head to capture her lips as he began to rock his hips against hers.

All worries that he may have had left him when he watched the way she responded to his body, her fingertips digging into the muscles of his biceps until he was sure that they would bruise. She was panting and moaning beneath him, making tiny movements with her body that produced huge waves of sensation in his. He was so distracted by his own pleasure that the first time she clenched lightly around him, he wasn’t even sure that it had happened. Looking down at her, he mimicked the movement with his hips and earned himself another wonderful contraction coupled with an urgent moan that ripped from her chest.

He slowed his pace, not wanting to be undone before she reached her peak and moved his fingers to her mouth which she accepted greedily. Screwing his eyes shut at the sensation, he trailed his hand down her body to the place where they joined and lightly found the bundle of nerves at the top of her sex. She convulsed, eyes snapping open in pleasure and he wished for the hundredth time that he could drown in them.

As his fingers began to stroke her, he watched as her body changed from pliant and soft to frantic and needy. Her hands moved to his arse and pulled him into her, keening at the feeling of his cock coupled by the pleasure that he was seeking in her from his fingers.

“You’re going to make me come, Jamie,” she sobbed in surprise and he doubled down his efforts to find it for her, to let her chase her pleasure before he gave in to his own. What a gift to be able to feel the way her body reacted to his, to know how it felt when she came close to her orgasm. Her tight muscles fluttered around him as he watched the flat plane of her stomach clench in an attempt to control the pleasure that was crashing through her body. It was all too much.

“Give me your mouth, Sassenach,” he gasped as he sealed his mouth to hers, their tongues hungrily seeking the other. It was the moment of combustion when they finally met and her body convulsed once more before she began to shake uncontrollably, noises coming from her that he never thought he’d hear. It was everything he needed in that moment as he began to pour himself into her, unable to stop the frantic jerk his hips as he experienced a blinding white pleasure that he’d never felt before.

Only just managing to shift his body so that he didn’t collapse his entire weight onto her, Jamie rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling as he waited for his heart rate to slow. He was hyper aware of Claire’s body beside him, of the rise and fall of her chest as she descended from waves of pleasure that he had elicited in her. He’d expected for his mind to be running a hundred miles a minute but all he felt was serenity. In that moment, the world was exactly as it should be.

“Christ,” Jamie huffed, unable to stop the air bursting from his lungs. The question fell out of him before he had a chance to stop it. “Is it always like that?”

He didn’t look at her, couldn’t force his eyes to look at her face in case he didn’t like what he saw. But his eyes began to drift closed at the feeling of Claire curling her naked body around his, bringing a bent leg to rest over his abdomen and her hair splaying on his chest.

“No, it isn’t.”

#light across the seas that severed #clan donnachaidh #ao3 #outlander fanfic #jamie fraser #Claire beauchamp #outlander #modern au

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slygirl666 · 4 years ago

Text

Misunderstanding

Fred x American reader

summery: while taking some time in New York Fred meets reader. but she is convinced he's a No-Maj.

warnings: maybe language, not edited and probably won't ever be.

words: 2,7020

----

You sighed, you were on your last hour of a double shift at a twenty four hour dinner. You couldn’t wait to Apparate home and sleep. Getting a plate of hashbrowns and eggs you walked tiredly to your section.

What you didn't see was the giant of a man walking towards you. The eggs and hashbrowns did end up on him.

“Shi- i mean sorry, sir,” you bent down to get the now broken plate. To be fair this was only your second week on the job and you were still getting used to the fact magic wasn’t used to keep things afloat.

“No harm, love.” he gave you a smile that made your cheeks heat up. Maybe it was just the nickname, that's what it was. A tourist most likely

“Sit down, i’ll get you a milkshake on me.” he started to shake his head. “Please something I don't want to let you go knowing I made a mess of you.”

“I’ll settle for a coffee, if that's alright?” you nodded as you went back to replace the order and get his coffee. You smiled at him dropping the coffee before taking the order to another customer.

When you got off of work you noticed the same man sitting only a block away on a public bench, he was awfully cute and the city lights bounced nicly off of flaming red hair.

No, the last thing you needed was to get attached to another no-maj, let alone one from another country.

That's the way you ended up in New york alone, you followed a boy. A no-maj you were ready to turn in your wand for. But he left you with a girl who came sobbing at your door about being pregnant. You're glad that he had the decency to see this through with her but not the decency to not cheat on you.

Against your better judgement you walked up to the man. “Hi, I believe I spilled a whole meal on you a while ago.”

He turned to look at you, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes flashed. You bit your lip just knowing that smile will get you in loads of trouble.

“You did, do you always end up following people out?” He gave you a smirk. You felt yourself heat up embarrassed, but he couldn’t know that.

“Only the cute ones.” you shrugged, mentally hitting yourself for saying it.

His smirk turned into a boyish grin, “awfully bold of you to say. I’m Fred.”

“Y/N” you offered him a hand. He shook it. “What are you doing all the way out here in New York?”

His face darkened, his eyes went haunted. “I needed a change from home. How long have you lived here?”

“A year,” Merlin, you should walk away, Apparate home. “I should get to the subway before it’s too late, have a good night.”

He waved to you as you walked off.

Two days after your talk with the Red Headed man you walked into work, a co worker took your hand.

“Y/N a cute guy came in yesterday asking about you,” she gave you an excited smile. “I told him you were working tonight and he said he’s stopping by.”

Shit, who would ask for you did kade find you. No his kid would be a here by now. “What did he look like?”

“Very tall, red hair, freckles..” you let out a breath as she listed them. It was that guy...Fred.

“Thanks Heather, I should get on my shift now,” you tied the apron around your waist and walked off to your section.

You anticipated Fred coming to see you, three hours passed and he didn’t. He wasn’t obligated to come see you, but why would he ask your coworker if he wasn’t going to come. Two more hours and you were putting your apron back in your locker.

You walked out through the front, only to see Fred leaned against the wall running his hands through his hair, muttering to himself to ‘just do it.’

“Do what?” You laughed, he jumped and turned to you.

“ask the pretty waitress, who happened to spill food on me if she wants to get a drink with me.” He smiled hopefully at you.

“I can’t get into a bar,” you shuffled your feet. He was older than you then. “I’m only nineteen.”

You could always use a glamour in your ID but you didn’t want to lie about your age to him.

“Oh,” He looked at a loss for words.

“I do know a killer pizza place just around the corner, so how about dinner?” You bit your lip half expecting him to say you were too young for him.

“Sounds lovely,” he smiled,gesturing for you to lead the way.

You walked ahead of him, before stopping at your favorite place for a late night slice. Leading him inside.

“Y/N your back,” Johnny, the owner smiled at you. After Kade broke your heart you spent a lot of time crying over a slice of Pizza here.

“Brought a friend too,” you smiled at him waving in the direction of Fred.

“Out to break my heart Y/N” he dramatically grabbed his chest.

“It’s okay Johnny I only loved you for your pizza skills anyway.” He laughed as you took a seat at a table, Fred sat across from you amused.

“You get on with everyone you meet?” He breathed out a laugh.

“Not always, but moving somewhere alone you learn where you feel safe and who you should talk to to secure that.”

He looked at you a little worried. When Johnny sat a cheese Pizza in front of the two of you with two bottles of beer Fred looked at you.

“They’ve never carded me here,” you shrugged, opening it up. That was a lie you spent two months charming your I.D till they stopped carding you. “So tell me about yourself.”

You learned a lot like he was the fourth child out of seven, he was twenty two, he only had one sister. He dropped out of school his last year and he owned a small joke shop with his twin brother in London.

“What about you, love?”

“Uh, I don’t have a family…” you refused to meet his eyes. “I went to a boarding school, and stayed with a foster family over the summers.”

You knew he would pity you, everyone seemed to. “You seem to have no trouble making your own family then.” He smiled at you nodding towards Johnny.

“Don’t always make the right choice though, that’s how I ended up on the other side of the country on my own,” you laughed telling him about how you ended up alone after only two months of living with someone.

“Stupid wanker if you ask me,” he smiled. You couldn’t agree more. The pizza and drinks were finished before you knew it. You felt so comfortable with this man. He got up and insisted on paying for the food and drinks. You agreed only if the next time you could pay, though you had a feeling he wouldn’t allow that.

And he didn’t, random nights turned to days, you gave him your phone number, he’d call from the landline he had. You even took him sightseeing, though he said he already had you insisted it was better with a partner.

It was a dream your friends had warned you, even saying that you get attached to men too easily. That was true but with Fred it just felt right. Even though you always felt like he told half truths maybe it's because you were keeping secrets. You eyed your wand, you should tell him maybe not now but soon. You were sitting in a cafe in the magic district.”

“No way Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N” she recognized the voice of Naveah Klower, a girl in her year at Illivamory. “I thought you lived in california, what the hell are you doing in New York?”

She smiled you two were never close but you did study together occasionally. “I live here now.”

“No way,” she sat herself across from you, last you heard she was working her way up as a top journalist for the daily. “Tell me everything.”

It was nice to talk to someone about the frustration of falling for a No-maj and not sure what to say.

“Oh, sweetheart.” she looked ready to cry for you. “You’ve always been a lover haven’t you? Tell you what, let's get together. I have to go to this event, it's formal, come with me as my date.”

“Uh, is that really what you get ou-”

“Common say yes, it's a free trip to london. Austin bailed on me and it's this weekend.” she pulled out a silver invitation.

Remembrance Ball

Witches and wizards all over the world are the reason were here today

“It’s cheesy I know, but I have a port key and you’ll get to meet all the people who fought for everyone, they usually only invite people higher in the business but my boss has a soft spot for me.”

She gave you lage pleading brown puppy eyes. “Fine, I’ll go.”

“Great, we can go to the ball and then maybe we’ll go bar hopping. It's only a weekend but-”

You were lost in thought as you thought maybe this would be an opportunity to see everything clearly. Spend the weekend away from Fred out of your apartment.

He was already busy this weekend, something about his apartment needing to be cleaned. You wouldn’t just mope around your place.

“You can borrow a dress of mine, oh give me your address.” she pulled out a quill and paper. “I’ll be by tomorrow night.”

she smiled at you walking off.

You spent the next day packing a bag and pacing your apartment. When Naveah knocked and excitedly waited. “So we need to apparate to the ministry and they have my portkey.”

She took your hand so you went with her. The portkey itself was a dusty record player that had a sister key set in your hotel room.

“Okay so, we have a hair and nail appointment in London and I’ll do make up,” she pushed you out the door grabbing both your purses.

You were never friends because she was so high energy and you weren’t. You checked your phone in hopes for a voice mail or call from Fred, but he said he couldn’t this weekend.

“Y/N don't worry about the no-maj man,” she took your phone. “We’re going to get you looking perfect for tonight you can't stress over a boy.”

The day felt long getting through the appointments, and having Naveah pull and tug at you as she chose your dress and makeup.

You did look good, hair in large soft curls, grey and silver eye makeup with dark red lips. She handed you a silky charcoal colored gown.

“Me best work yet i have to say, “ she zipped you up she looked amazing, in neutral makeup and a pink dress.

They looked walked out to the hall to the elevator, the man inside nodded, “looking lovely ladies, where too?”

“Top floor please,” Naveah flashed her invite, he nodded, waving a hand over the elevator buttons to make a new one appear. He pressed the button, elevator going up at lightning speed. “Enjoy.”

They walked into the room, the ceiling magically showing the perfect night sky. People were already mingling and discussing the war. Naveah pulled a pad and quill to start writing. “You go talk to people, I have to report and stuff.”

You smiled going to find the table, feeling awkward alone in a place you knew nobody. It reminded you of when you moved, you saw a flash of red hair. Turning you saw it belonged to a lanky man shoving bread in his mouth, not your Fred.

The woman the man was with guided him to the front, she was beautiful with her large hair in natural curls and a light blue gown. “Ronald! we have to go meet Harry up front, swallow that or spit it out.”

You giggled, they looked like a cute couple. The two walked to the front where a shorter man with jet black hair tapped a knife against a champagne glass. From photos you knew that was Harry Potter. He began thanking everyone before awkwardly going on to talk about the war and the people who stood with him. When he mentioned the last name Weasley you perked up.

It's a common last name right? Especially here, the name isn’t unheard of. You think at least.

When Harry finished his speech he motioned for the staff to bring out the food.

You sat and chatted with Neveah and the others at your table, you met Rita Skeeter and her partner. After food everyone was invited to dance and mingle.

“Y/N would you mind helping, just jot down notes, please?” Neveah gave you pleading eyes. You smiled taking the two items sitting next to you.

“I want to focus on everyone around the war, not just those three,” she moved on asking people who they were and how they were involved.

You stopped at Ginny Weasley who insisted you should talk to her older brothers. “Georgie, Freddie! Come here, they came here from America.”

You froze the second she said Freddie. And a familiar voice called out to Ginny.

“Y/N what's wrong with you?” Naveah gently shoved your shoulder.

It was too late the men already came to stand with their sister.

“Y/N?” Fred eyed you. “What are you doing here aren't you- Merlin I’m an idiot. You never told me anything about before your days in new york and you always cut yourself off.”

“I take it this is the girl you were writing about,” the identical man laughed.

“I think we have a lot to talk about,” you handed the paper and quill to Naveah.

Fred led you to a bar, he ordered a whiskey and wine handing you the glass.

“Mione, made sure there was an open bar,” he didn’t look at you.

“Oh thats-”

“Did you plan on telling me? At all?” he turned to you with a short glare.

“You can't be mad Freddie, I was going to decide this weekend,” you returned his glare.

“Were you going to tell me?”

“Yes, I was going to tell you on monday after I picked you up for work.” he cracked a smile, “we’re right idiots aren’t we?”

You laughed, placing your glass down, he led you to the floor where people were dancing. You wrapped your arms around his neck, “we really are, maybe it’s a good thing.”

“You know I know, I was so scared. You were a bit too young for me,” he pulled you closer by the waist. “Obviously reckless, somehow can drink underadge you spilt food on me multiple times-”

“Those were an accident,” you defended. he laughed, bringing up a hand to caress your cheek.

“But charming and absolutely gorgeous. I was amazed you agreed to go on a date with me after one conversation.”

“I tend to do things most people see as a read flag,” you smiled up at him.

“I will forever be grateful for that.” he leaned his head down to kiss you sweetly.

The two of you had kissed many times, this was different, you felt lighter no longer holding anything back.

“Ahem, Fred.” the two of you turned to see George and a whole family of redheads standing by you two. looking ready to laugh. “Don’t you want to introduce us to your lady friend?”

He looked embarrassed before you introduced yourself, Molly Weasley hugged you. “I thought you were a muggle.”

“I thought he was a no-maj. We just misunderstood each other ma’am.”

“Oh, dear call me Molly, Fred hasn’t shut up about you.”

“That's enough you lot!” Fred pulled you under his arm guiding you to a balcony. You looked out amazed by the view of London under you. “Y/N I think I love you.”

“I know I love you already.” you got his collar to pull him down for a heated kiss.

#fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #weasley twins #harry potter fan fiction

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copias-thrall · 4 years ago

Text

Cause I'm Young and I'm Here and So Beautiful

A look into the rise and fall of Mary Goore's flash-in-the-pan modeling career.

~12.5K Mary Goore/Reader *drug/alcohol use; mentions of past child abuse; brief homelessness; plot no porn; POV shift*

This fic was inspired by and is very loosely based on Aurelio Voltaire's early days in NYC in the 90s, though I have set it in Boston in the early aughts. 😊

Many thanks to the artists who did commissions for this! 🥰

One Way Streets

Mary stepped off the regional rail and gripped his backpack. He had $72.57 in cash rolled into his socks and a give-em-hell attitude.

When he’d packed his bag the night before, he wasn’t even sure if he’d go through with it, but he couldn’t stand being home anymore. Some of his friends had told him he was crazy.

"Three more months, dude. You got this. Just finish high school, then bounce."

But they didn’t have to live with his dad and the step-monster. Every day was a new indignity. Having them bitch about his music and his style was one thing—that he could have dealt with—but everything else had just kind of…escalated.

Now that the kiddies were older, they’d turned into gremlins. They’d somehow sensed that Mary wasn’t their beloved older brother—he was some sort of half other. They’d stopped questioning why "mom was so mean" to him and had accepted that she was because there was something wrong with Mary. They realized they could be little shits and blame everything on him.

And dad just didn’t care. He’d throw up his hands and say, "I have to live with her"—as if Mary wasn’t in the same boat.

Dad hadn’t stopped her when—in a rage—she’d smashed every single vinyl album Mary had owned because the twins ruined her nice tablecloth. He’d shrugged when she cut all Mary's guitar strings so he couldn’t play "the devil’s music." He’d held Mary back when she took a match and burned all his secret stuff that Mary kept under his bed—action figures, books, guitar mags, journals—in the backyard because he got detention for smoking. He hadn’t said a word when the police showed up after she came at Mary with scissors because he’d dyed his hair black and he’d pushed her away before she could scalp him.

Mary thought for sure he was going to get carted off to jail as she screamed about him terrorizing the family and being afraid he was going to kill her sons in their sleep, but the officers had just looked at her bored and told her being a teenager wasn’t a crime.

So, no: Mary couldn’t wait 3 more months.

He’d scraped together what money he had left from his secret shifts working as a busboy under the table at a local dive downtown, packed his backpack with the essentials, and walked the 5 miles to the train station instead of going to school.

Eighteen was 10 weeks away. He could fudge it for a few months, especially since he could already get away without using his fake ID to get into shows most of the time.

So, to the big city it was.

He shifted his weight and tried to pretend that he belonged here in Boston, but actually facing the busy streets was a lot different from looking at a bird’s-eye view map. He had a printout in his pocket, but he didn’t want to look like a doe-eyed tourist. So he set off down the seemingly labyrinthine streets in the direction he could have sworn was the correct one.

It wasn't.

When he came out a side alley into Faneuil Hall, he almost wondered if he'd gone through a fairy portal, since he was clear on the other side of town. Begrudgingly, he checked his creased map, and set out once more.

And ended up spit out by the State building.

Finding the hostel turned into a fraught adventure, and he got turned around several times more. When he tried to ask for directions, most people pushed past him while one lady shoved $5 at him. He used the cash to buy a hotdog, and it was the vendor who ultimately gave him directions in his thick, Southie accent.

Of course, making it to the hostel ended up being just part one. The rates were almost double what it stated online ("Sorry, honey—that site hasn’t been upgraded since the 90s."), and two nights were practically all his savings. Mary had thought he’d at least have a couple of days to find a job, not 36hrs.

He left the hostel, wondering for the first time if maybe he shouldn’t go back home…but he decided it was a nice day out. Surely there was some place he could hunker down. Just for the night.

What he hadn’t anticipated was the cops at every fucking turn telling him to move along. And any place out of line-of-sight seemed to already be inhabited.

He finally found a place behind some rocks in the Seaport where he didn’t think he’d be murdered in his sleep, curled around his backpack, and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Mary woke up damp from the dew and the morning sun streaming into his eyes. The birds were creating an awful racket, but Mary guessed it was as good an alarm clock as any.

He ran his fingers through his bird's nest of hair, and he made his way back to the South Station. The men’s room may have smelled like a sewage treatment plant, but at least it was free. He had expected it to be mostly empty at the crack of dawn, but it was full of commuters making that last run to the head before they had to take the train 2hrs out of the city for work.

And it was a sight: a bunch of suits with their fancy lattes washing their hands, and Mary in the corner trying to surreptitiously wipe down with paper towels under his Misfits t-shirt and his shredded jeans. At school, he’d have probably gotten into several altercations by now—no one would have let him just turn into Mary Goore without a fight—but this was Boston, and no one gave him more than a cursory glance.

Just another college kid.

It emboldened Mary to go full-out in the kind of way he had only done when going out to the punk shows downtown at night: kohl all the way around his eyes, and some on his cheekbones; mascara because his lashes are long and thick, and he knows it (his dad had said it made him look hard, and Mary had sneered that maybe that was what he’d been going for. But maybe it had been because he’d liked the way it had made his green eyes pop.); a smear of the step-monster’s fanciest matte lipstick on his full lips; and airplane glue in his hair to give it that lift.

He made a kissy face at himself in the mirror, and headed back out.

It was a nice Spring day—almost boiling in the direct sun—and it tempted Mary to wear only his battle vest, but even he kind of figured applying to jobs half dressed was a mistake.

He walked all over the city, trying not to get lost, looking for any kind of work—dishwasher, busboy, barback—but all he had to show for it was blistered feet and a raging appetite. The only good part of the day was that he noted any restaurant or bakery that looked like it might toss perfectly good food at the end of the day.

He and his friends had become experts at dumpster diving in his podunk town, and he felt confident that he had a good feel for a jackpot. Mary staked out a bakery and was rewarded with a find of "old" bagels. He shoved as many as he could into the nooks and crannies of his backpack before slinking off to the Commons to inhale at least two of them.

Cold, stale dough never tasted so good.

He watched the tourists and the professionals walk by in ones and in groups while he ran his bare feet through the grass. Some laughed with each other as they sauntered down the path while others seemed singularly intent on their ultimate destination. A pack of dogs ran and played with each other as their owners looked on fondly, and nearby the baseball diamond hosted a casual game.

Mary counted his lucky stars that his first week in Boston was April at its kindest—always mild during the day, even when it turned cloudy, and a few times even downright warm. The nights turned chilly, though, and it had Mary in more layers than an onion. If the birds or damp didn't wake him, his butt cramps from being curled in a tight ball all night did.

He spent those days walking around the city proper looking for work. He wasn't adventurous enough to make the leap across the bridges to Cambridge just yet, but his travels gave him a good sense on how the different sections of Boston connected—and showed him potential places to crash at night. He didn't even mind living off day-old garbage food and drinking from bubblers (he'd bought a water for the express purpose of reusing the bottle), but the barren wasteland that seemed to be the job market was beginning to weigh on him.

At home, he could always find a shit job if he was willing to put up with shit hours and ridiculous requests. Here, though, Mary was just one of many desperate people willing to do desperate work.

And he didn’t look particularly trustworthy or reliable.

@dipendancesld

Hashtag WTF

I’m scrolling through Insta on the T, and I’m way down the rabbit hole of hashtags. New content was at a minimum this morning (how can I follow accounts in triple digits and only see the same 4 posts?!), so I’d started with some art tags and ended up where I usually end up—trolling social media for blurry pictures of my boy.

His band has been a local staple for years—or at least that’s what he told me on our first date. I had just moved from New York after a nasty breakup, ready to start fresh, and I’d seen him at a coffee shop hanging posters for his next show in his leather jacket, asymmetrical Metallica crop top, and stomping boots.

Fresh had never looked so good.

Then, a few months back, an online publication had featured his band in the year’s 50 best bands "you’ve never heard of," and now the band's starting to gain traction.

He’s starting to gain traction.

Finding the new online content of him first has become a game the two of us play. We had to stop counting images posted from the popular fan accounts because Mary's now acquaintances with most of them, and I said it was hardly fair to snipe me that way. Mary had pouted—but it was to cover up his grin. So now we troll for the pictures of his latest gig or at his favorite haunts from either his casual fans or one of his new ones. I even have a whole range of hashtag typos saved if I really want to triumph, since Mary just doesn't have the attention span.

I usually win, though, by virtue of not keeping Rockstar Hours—and because Mary doesn’t have a smartphone. Mary delights in spending the wee hours while I'm sleeping finding new content, and I'll often wake to one he's pulled up on my laptop and a "suck it" sticky note stuck to my monitor.

(But I’m reigning supreme.)

There’s a thirst tag I sometimes comb through (for reasons), and today I’m desperate for that morning serotonin to keep me from dozing off, which is why I stumble across a particularly convincing cosplayer in some…risqué poses and outfits.

The dude is really good, and I have to admit he really does have Mary’s mannerisms down pat. He’s younger and a little skinnier than Mary is now, but his facial expressions are on point. I zoom in to see the contouring technique because he's using one of those filters to make it look old…and that’s when I sense something off. I can’t quite place my finger on it, but usually there’s an uncanny valley to his serious cosplayers, and this dude looks so real. He’s even 100% accurate with the mole placement, which is something I never see.

My heart does a flip-flop.

Is that…actually Mary?

Foundling

Mary's sixth night in the city, it rained. It was more of a brief Spring shower, but it was still enough to soak him and his backpack through. He shivered through the early morning hours until the sun came up, then he made his way to the Commons to lay his belongings—and himself—out into the sun to dry.

By midday, he had a slight sunburn across his nose, but most of his things were dryish—though the food was a soggy lost cause. He cut his losses and decided to buy a sausage from the hotdog vendor, even if that meant he was down to $52.37 in his sock bank.

It was the most amazing thing he'd ever eaten in his entire life (sometimes he still dreams of it), and he gobbled it down as he sat in the grass and watched the show of people pass by.

He could take today off from his job search.

Just another Groundhog Day of rejections.

A gaggle of kids about his age walked past, and he lit up when he saw them: studs and bright hair and cuffs and combat boots. They ran and shrieked and shoved at each other, and Mary had never felt such longing to be a part of something.

Not that nebulous feeling of "my world is out there somewhere," but "my world is right there if I can just get to it."

And he realized maybe he could.

These were his people.

Mary hopped off the bench and approached the boisterous group.

"Uh, hey…guys."

The pack stopped and looked him over, confused but not hostile.

"Oh hey, man" said a girl with green fins and a studded, leather jacket.

"Hey."

I have nowhere to go. Can I go with you?

"Sorry, I forgot your name."

"Oh, you don’t—"

A guy in a tight striped shirt, snake bites, and blue hair interrupted him.

"Shit, were you in my intro into film class last year?"

Mary was a high school dropout.

"Nah, dude. I’m new and shit."

…But he wasn’t stupid.

A curvy white goth with bleached blonde hair and a cream princess dress smiled at him.

"Aww, that’s rough, honey. If you think about it, they really ought to give transfers on-campus housing. It sucks to be so new and away from the action."

Mary nodded. "Yeah. Sucks."

"Well, we’re going to The Pit, wanna come?"

"If you guys don’t mind…"

"Fuck, the more the merrier!"

Mary smiled as they assimilated him into the group. He found out the goth’s name was Vanessa ("But call me Vanity."), green fins was Alexa ("Or Alex. I’m trying it out."), striped shirt was Billy, and the two other punks were Mandi (Manic Panic red) and Aaron (band tee, spiked collar).

No one laughed at him when he introduced himself as Mary or asked him why he had a girl’s name.

They took him onto the T at Charles MGH, and Mary marveled at the setting sun over the Charles River before the train ducked underground to barrel in Cambridge. At Harvard, they ushered him off the train and directly into The Pit, and Mary almost cried when he saw the pit rats there playing hacky sack, strumming guitars, and smoking cloves. Mary watched as his group high-fived, bumped chests, and hugged nearly everyone there before introducing him as if they’d known him for years.

He was shit at hacky sack, but he accepted a round on the guitar and shared a clove with a white girl who had a rat's nest of hair.

"Fuck their beauty stands," she said when she caught Mary staring.

Mary smiled and pointed to his own mess of hair. "Fuck ‘em," he repeated.

She cackled and handed him a brown bag with what he expected to be whiskey, but tasted like turpentine.

She laughed harder at his face as he coughed, and she pounded him on the back.

"Moonshine, dude. Lenny makes it in his bathtub."

"Which one is Lenny," Mary asked as he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Oh, he’s not here. He goes to MIT. We have a strict trade agreement—booze for pot. I’m Katie."

Head fuzzy, Mary had made out with her until Aaron tugged on his arm.

"Shit dude, we gotta go before the T closes. You live close to here?"

"Uh…"

"Aww, I think he got into Lenny’s moonshine," said Vanity. "If he’s a transfer, I bet he’s at some shithole in Allston. You in Allston, honey?"

Mary just nodded.

"All right then," said Alex, taking charge. "We’ll put him up tonight. There’s no way he’s gonna make it back to Allston by himself, and I’ll be fucked if I’m trekking out there without a BU party to crash."

Mary wobbled slightly as Alex took his arm in his and led him to the T.

"Ok, we gotta go now or we’ll all be hoofing it."

They took Mary back to their dorm by the Hatch Shell and signed him in as a guest.

"Is this ok?" Mary asked warily—he didn't want to get kicked out in the middle of the night.

Mandi patted him on the back.

"We do it all time. No one really gives a shit. Vegan Mick dropped out 2 semesters ago and they don’t even check for his ID."

That night, Mary slept in the common room on a lumpy couch that was half as long as he was.

It was heaven.

The next morning seemed like the end, and Mary slumped as Vanity to sign him out. For one brief day he'd been a part of something, and now it was back to Mary, party of one. But Vanity took one look at his face and asked if he wanted to get breakfast at the dining hall.

Of course, he wanted to…but he thought of the dwindling cash in sock bank and hesitated. Vanity, bless her, misread his trepidation.

"It's on me, sweetie. I know most transfers don’t opt in. Too expensive when it’s not bundled. No worries, I got a ton of points I don’t use."

Alex and Aaron were already half done with their food when Vanity and he joined them, and they looked on in amusement as Mary ate half the breakfast buffet.

When the subject of classes came up, he shrugged off questions.

"None this morning."

Alex narrowed her eyes at him.

"What year did you say you were?"

"Sophomore."

"Not a freshman?"

Mary shook his head. "I’m not a freshman."

She seemed about to ask another question, so Mary quickly changed the subject.

"I thought I’d spend the day applying for jobs. You guys know of any place that’s hiring?"

"No work study?"

"No."

"What kind of work you looking for?"

"Shit, anything. I’ll sweep the fucking floors."

They bandied about ideas, places for Mary to try, but no one had any leads. Too soon, some unknown gong had them scurrying to get to class.

Mary suddenly panicked.

"Hey, do you guys mind if I spend the night again? I mean…"

"Yeah, sure," said Vanity. "Aaron?"

"Yeah, man. Meet me after class and I'll swipe you in."

It apparently was a time-honored tradition, passed down from upperclassmen to underclassmen, on gaming the guest system. Most kids used it to essentially move their significant others into their dorm rooms, but a handful every year used it to give haven to others who had questionable housing situations.

So, just like that, Mary had a place to rest his bones.

@dilfpassing

A Deeper Look

I’m so intent on scrolling through the comments on the grainy pics—which I'm sure now are actual scans—that I completely miss my stop, and I have to put my phone away so I can wheeze lightly jog my way to where I work as a receptionist at an alternative hair salon.

It’s really important that I start a good hour before we open so I can return any calls left on our voicemail first thing in case I can fit anyone in today. Which means I have to shelve my find for now, much to my irritation.

Mornings are super-busy because apparently there are some people in the world that like getting up with the sun and want everything done by noon. (June Cleaver’s salon lets me get away with a lot—like coming to work in denim short-shorts and ripped tights, free hair colors, and a snarky attitude—but late start times aren’t one of them.) I honestly don’t have room in my brain to obsess about the pictures because I’m too busy answering calls, making coffee, settling accounts, and giving the new customer spiel for the 57th time to a walk-in.

It’s just after midday, when Penny, the shampoo girl, collects my cash for the salon-wide sandwich run, and I finally have a moment to breathe. And obsess.

I take out my phone again, and I have to retrace my steps because of course the app has refreshed, which is why Sonia has the time to look over my shoulder.

"Missing dream boy’s dick so much you gotta spend your lunch hour ogling pics of him on the internet?"

I zoom in on the one of maybe!Mary in his underwear.

"Who does that look like to you?"

Sonia makes a guh sound in her throat and backs away.

"I don’t need to see your intimates!"

"That’s the thing! It’s not mine!"

"Your boy’s nudes get leaked??"

I wave my arms around.

"I don’t freakin’ know! They may not even be him. Fucking. C’mere and help me out!"

Sonia warily creeps back over, and so does Ryan, since all the yelling has attracted him.

The three of us peer over the phone as I scroll through the images again.

By the time Penny comes back with lunch, we’ve gone back and forth on who’s in the images—Mary or a fake—and I haven’t been able to do any actual research. The afternoon rush starts, and I have to table the whole thing again, having made no progress at all.

It isn’t until near-closing, when most of the other stylists have gone home—and it’s only June who does the post-work crowd—that I can really dig into the matter.

A deep dive and a couple of defunct, decade-old forums later, I find that what I took as an aspirational hashtag was actually the name of a zine called "Heroes."

There’s like, zero online trail about it—except for a few other grainy scans of other pages of articles, poetry, concert pictures, and art—but it seemed to be an early aughts missive for local underground culture and color.

It still doesn’t explain why Mary’s in there in various states of undress and poses.

Or why Mary has never said a word about it to me.

Stripped Bare

Mary settled into a sort of routine. He spent most days looking for a job—any job—with his backpack full of food from their dining hall. Most nights he rotated couches on different floors so the RAs didn’t notice that he basically lived there.

He made friends with Vegan Mick for about 5 seconds until Mary had eaten an entire Rotisserie chicken from 7-11 in front of him. Mick had launched into a whole spiel, and Mary had pointed out that Mick's jacket and Docs were made of leather. He’d only meant it as a joke—a callout in answer to a callout, like he'd do with his friends back home—but Vegan Mick had turned purple, then iced Mary out every time he saw him after that.

Oops.

The brief friendship had lasted long enough, however, for Mick to give Mary some tips and tricks of being homeless.

Homeless.

That had been a tough pill to swallow. Until Vegan Mick had put Mary’s situation like that, Mary had just thought of himself between places.

But it was true: he didn’t live anywhere. He skated by on the kindness of his new friends, and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up the ruse of "transfer student who didn’t like his shithole apartment and was too busy job searching to concentrate on classes."

He still spent a few nights a week finding an out-of-the-way place outside to hunker down in or huddling in with Katie and a few of the other gutter punks under their boxes in the corners of the T stations. He knew they would have been more than happy to make room, anyway, but Mary always emptied his backpack of all the pilfered dining hall food for distribution amongst them.

It honestly wasn't so terrible now that he had friends and a warm place to go on cold or rainy nights, but.

He needed an actual place to live. To afford an actual place to live, he needed a job. To get a job, he needed a place to live.

It seemed like a catch-22, and he began to despair that he’d never get ahead…until Mandi offered him a leg up.

Mary was sitting on the grass in the Commons in the shade, thinking that with summer coming up, maybe he could fudge it until the gang came back in September. There was always Katie and The Pit, and Mary was sure he could chip in somehow.

Mandi sat down next to him.

"I thought that mess of hair was you, Mare."

"Hey, Mandi. What’s kicks?"

"You still looking for a job?"

Mary put his head in his hands and sighed.

"Don’t remind me."

"You over 18?"

Just last week. But Mary hadn’t said, since they thought he was a Sophomore.

"Yeah."

"Wanna be at least 21?"

Mary grinned at her.

"That’s what my fake ID says."

She laughed, a tinkling thing.

"You got anything against strip clubs?"

Mary furrowed his brows at her.

"Uh…what’s the right answer here?"

She shoved him playfully.

"Do you want a job?"

"Yeah?"

"Then say no."

"No. No problems with strip clubs." He squinted at her. "Are they looking for male strippers?"

She laughed again.

"Definitely not." She canted her head at Mary. "I mean, you're very pretty, Mare. I could probably put you on as one of the girls…even with these triple As," she flicked playfully at his nipple, which had him grunting and batting at her, "but I was thinking more behind the scenes."

Mary held up his arm and made a weak muscle.

"I don’t think I’d be much of a bouncer, Mands."

"You said you’d wash dishes, sweep floors and shit, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, the club I work at—"

"The club at you what now?"

Mandi gave him a strange look.

"Yeah. The strip club I work at."

Mary’s eyes bugged out.

"As a…waitress?"

"As a stripper, Mary. Duh." At his dumbfounded look she shook her head. "It’s kind of extra credit, as a dance major. I’m going to turn it into my thesis. Plus, I make hella bank."

She swept her arm across the park that made up her college "campus."

"How else do you think I can afford this rock-and-roll lifestyle? Not all of us are here on scholarship or mom and dad’s dime."

She tilted her head at him.

"I thought you’d get it."

When Mary didn't respond, she touched his shoulder.

"Mare. I know you don't go here."

"W-what…? I…"

He looked at her, wide-eyed as the blood drained from his face.

"Hey, it's ok. I'm not gonna tell anybody. Not if you don't want me to."

Mary looked down. "Thanks." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You know that means I've got no address."

Mandi bumped his shoulder and waved his words away.

"A lot of the girls dance. Paddy is used to dorm rooms as addresses. You can use mine."

Mary looked at her, hoping he could convey every ounce of gratitude he was feeling.

She grinned and punched him in the shoulder.

"So, you up for it? Sweeping floors and bussing tables?" She leveled a look at him. "Cleaning up puke?"

Anything.

"Fuck, I’m desperate, Mands. I’ll hold their hair back if it means a paycheck."

"That’s the spirit!"

***

Mary was sure Patrick was part of the mob—or at least in cahoots. The guy had taken one look at Mary’s ID and had said, "But how old are you really?" and Mary had said, "Nineteen."

Patrick had thrown up his hands. "Well, you ain’t gonna be serving alcohol anyway, kid. Your job is to do whatever I tell you. Some asshole breaks a bottle, you clean up the glass so the girls don’t hurt themselves. Some idiot ralphs all over the toilet seat, you scrub the shit out of that fucker. A bachelor party leaves a table a hot mess, you better be out there clearing off the table for the next one, got it?"

Mary had nodded.

"You show up at 5 to help the girls set up the bar. You stay til whenever it takes to close down—but you only get paid 'til 2am—and you get an hour to eat, unpaid. You don’t bother the girls, and," Patrick had leaned in, "you don’t steal from me."

Mary had gulped and nodded emphatically.

Patrick had jabbed a finger at him. "That includes the booze. If I get fucked because some snot-nosed, underage kid is drinking with my good friends Jim and Johnnie, I’m gonna be very put out."

"Got it, sir."

"Don’t call me sir. I’m Paddy to my friends, so you can call me Patrick."

"Yes, Patrick."

Patrick had looked him over.

"You get paid as an independent contractor just like the girls, so you gotta deal with your own taxes, you got that? I’ll start you at $10 an hour."

Mary’s eyes had gone wide. Back home he was lucky to get 5.

"Ten…?"

Patrick had tilted his head again.

"No, you’re right, 12. Do a good job, and I’ll think about raising it to 15."

Mary had to physically stop his jaw from dropping.

"You do weeknights for now so if you fuck up it’s not that much of a problem. If you don’t fuck up and the girls don’t hate you, you can get weekends. Deal?"

Mary had sat up straighter. "Deal." He’d held his hand out, but Patrick had just looked at it until Mary pulled it back into his side.

"Ariel vouched for you, so I’m giving you a shot. Don’t make her regret it."

Mary had shaken his head as Patrick had handed him some forms to fill out.

"Come back at 4 tomorrow with these and we’ll get you started. Now, get out, I got shit to do."

Mary had taken the forms and skedaddled.

Mandi was outside waiting for him, all smiles.

"Did you get it?"

"Yeah, but fuck—your boss is scary."

"Nah, he’s a teddy bear."

***

The job was awful.

The puke was an almost nightly occurrence, and by the end of the first week, little cuts covered Mary’s hands from the broken glass. The customers were loud, rowdy, and acted as if their mother was going to clean up after them.

Mary swore he would never get the beer smell out. It now lived in his soul.

One dude punched Mary and broke his nose for no reason Mary could tell before the bouncers dragged the guy away. The girls gave him some tampons to stop the bleeding, and Mary finished his shift.

Patrick paid Mary in cash at the end of every week with a "It’s your job to report that, not mine," and at the end of the month, Patrick bumped Mary up to $15/hr. He worked 5 days a week because, according to Patrick, "The Lord gave us a day of rest, and you get one day off per week."

Mary never reported a single cent to the IRS.

The girls loved him, and joked that Patrick had gotten them a pet. They showed him winged eyeliner and smokey eyes and how to contour. They guffawed when they watched him try out their shoes like a newborn deer. On slow nights, they tried to show him pole techniques.

He saw the gang less and less because by the time they were getting out of class, he was going into work, and when he was done work, they were crawling into bed. Fortunately, the desk sitters seemed to forget that he wasn’t an on-campus "student" and didn’t even bother signing him in anymore. There were a few sticklers, but Mary found that—while back home he was less than scum—here, he attracted all the right kinds of attention…and a smirk with the right compliment went a long way.

By the time their school year ended, Mary had saved up $1,000 (and he needed to transfer his money out of sock bank and into the ripped lining of his jacket).

Even though they didn't know just how much they'd saved him, Mary showed up on the last day as thanks to help them all move their stuff into family cars or rented trucks. They hugged him goodbye and said to ring them next semester.

Mandi bopped him on the nose and told him to keep his nose clean.

Mary took a sublet in Allston with 2 BU kids and a Berkley grad student. The "room" was a closed-in porch with a sleeping bag left by the last resident—but it was $400 a month until September, utilities included.

At first, Mary didn't know why the gang was so snobby about Allston, but the summer seemed to be one continual party. It didn't matter what day Mary got up, there were always broken beer bottles and stale beer on their front stoop, and the apartment had a designated watering can for washing away the vomit that dripped down from the top porches to their own.

But he took it in stride, and when he wasn’t at the strip club or sleeping, he was partying with the BU kids, or letting the Berkley grad show him better string fingering techniques.

Mary still tried to get out to The Pit with what groceries he could spare, but Katie had moved on with some of the others to do a protest tour with an activist street band that had come through town, and without her or the gang, it made Mary feel lonely.

By the end of the summer, Mary had saved up enough money for first, last, and security. He even had some left over to buy more than ramen and some new clothes. To Mary, it felt like a million dollars. He rented a garden-level apartment in the cheap part of Jamaica Plain for September 1st and spent that entire day with the BU dudes driving around in their rented truck for Allston Christmas’s best furniture finds.

Mary ended up with a mattress that he hoped on a wish and a prayer didn’t have bedbugs, a mismatched set of dishes, plastic drawers that were slightly warped, and a broken futon frame he swore he would fix. Throw in a few sets of slightly used string lights, and Mary’s cave felt downright homey.

When the gang got back, he simply told them he’d dropped out.

"Yeah, I just don’t think college is for me. Music’s my real passion, you know?"

Alex had groaned.

"I knew that Berkley kid was gonna be a bad influence on you."

Mary shrugged.

"My grades were shit anyway. But I’m still around, you know. The strip club’s only a block from campus."

"Because we saw you so much then," deadpanned Billy.

"Hey! Stop piling on Mary," said Vanity. "He’s following his path."

Mary shot her a wide smile.

"Thanks, Vanity."

Patrick finally gave him a little more leeway with his days off, and Mary started taking Saturday night to join the gang in Harvard Square for the shadow cast of Rocky Horror. One of Aaron’s classmates, Amber, was in it, and they all wanted to support her.

Mary felt that something again. That thing that told that this was his place and his people. This eclectic group who got up in front of strangers every week in their underwear for free enthralled Mary.

He and Amber bonded immediately, and Mary began going even without the gang. The cast welcomed him in as an honorary groupie, and Mary's friendship with the gang waned. There was still Mandi to cavort with at the strip club, but now when Mary wasn't there, he was at any one of the Rocky crew's apartments getting high and playing dress up.

"You’ve got such a Look, Mare," sighed Amber. "I’d kill for your cheekbones."

"I’d kill for your tits."

She slapped him playfully. "Don’t be gross."

"No, I’m serious. Someone once put it in my head that I'd be a hot chick."

The girls had giggled and proceeded to dress him up in bras and corsets with cutlets. They added a wig, and the glo-up surprised even Mary.

Still buzzed, they went out for girl’s night and hit up all the bars in Fenway and flirted their way to free shots from the dude bros before batting their falsies at bouncers to let them into the clubs ahead of the line and without the cover.

The cutlets eventually became a nuisance—and soon they were all flapping them about above their heads as they danced—but Mary had loved the feel of the lace and satin corsets against his skin.

When they’d all collapsed in a pile at the end of the night, Mary wondered if they’d tell him where to get some lingerie for himself.

***

By August, Mary was ready to quit the strip club.

He was tired of cut fingers (they were making it hard to play the guitar he’d bought), the drunks, and the sick everywhere. Now that he had a little cushion, he thought maybe he could at least find something with better hours.

Mandi had graduated and was well into a summer internship at Disney in hopes they’d bring her on as a dancer.

Alex had also graduated and moved out to LA to make it as a film editor.

Vanity and Aaron had started dating after finals, and they had moved in together in Cambridgeport for their last year.

Billy had stopped going to classes before dropping out altogether. No one seemed to know what happened, and when they called his home, his mother just said he was unavailable.

There didn’t seem to be much reason to stick around the Grid anymore, and it was a bitch of a commute back to his place if he wasn’t going to hang out with the Rocky crew. He landed a job at a record store that was walking distance to his apartment.

Patrick seemed surprisingly sad to see him go, saying, "Ah, the good ones smart up," and gave him a $500 bonus for not "fucking up."

Tim, one of the older Rocky people, turned out to not live too far from him, and when Mary started hanging out there, so did the party.

Now that Mary was no longer shackled by the strip club’s hours, his world opened a few more degrees. He spent his nights dressing up while he watched the cast rehearse. (When he showed them a move or two he learned from the women at the club, they tried to get him to do a guest star as Frank. But Mary had shaken his head and said that wasn’t the kind of performing he wanted to do.)

When they weren't rehearsing, they dragged Mary to TT The Bear’s, The Middle East, and The Milky Way Lounge for underground shows. They took him to fetish night at ManRay after a trip to Hubba Hubba for pleather and lingerie, and Mary made a lot of new friends.

Sometimes, Mary would show up to work straight off a night out in his club clothes, eyeliner smudged and lipstick smeared. It should have got him fired, but his boss just shrugged.

"I used to keep rockstar hours too."

Mary still wore all his old vestiges—his battle vest and his ripped jeans—it was just that now he sometimes added a corset and heels.

Wherever Katie was now, he hoped she knew he was still fucking their beauty standards.

ry.omen Insta

Answer Me This

I practically vibrate the entire way back to our place. I'm still trying to wring information out of the internet like it's too-wet clothes, but the only thing I accomplish is making myself motion sick on the bus, so I put my phone back in my pocket and breath through my nose.

When I get home, Mary is sprawled across the couch in his pjs with various limbs hanging over sides and edges as he watches some extreme sport show on my laptop.

I wonder if he just got up, but I see the start of dinner on the stove, so I decide not to snark at him.

"Hey," he says without looking up.

I am, however, gonna need some answers on "Heroes."

I gently close the laptop, and he meets my eyes.

"What?"

I climb onto the couch, and Mary’s limbs recede like vines to make room for me as I scroll through my phone to my photo app where I’ve saved screenshots.

"Lucy," I say in a terrible accent, "you have some ‘splaining to do!"

Mary squints at me and takes my phone, his expression morphing into one of surprise.

"Shit, babe. Where’d ya find these??"

"So they are you!"

He chuckles.

"Christ…I haven't thought about these in fucking years."

"Mind telling me what the fuck?" I ask, my hands on my hips.

I'm only half joking.

Mary grimaces at me.

"Ah."

"I'm gonna need more than that, mister."

He rubs the back of his neck.

"Fuck, you know those were hard times for me."

I know about his family, the homelessness. I know he tried out a lot until he found a life that fit. He'd given me the overviews with occasional anecdotes filled with names I never remembered.

But none of them included naughty pictures.

I worm my way under his arm.

"Yeah, I know, Mare."

His hand strokes down my arm.

"I mean, shit. I was kinda an asshole, you know?"

I wrap an arm around his chest.

"You're still kind of an asshole, Goore."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

When he doesn't say more, I poke him hard in the side.

"I’m literally dying here."

He laughs a little.

"Fine. But you gotta remember you asked."

Model Behavior

One day, Mary was walking down the street on his way to drinks with the new friends he'd made the weekend before. It was a good day. He wasn’t hungover as fuck, his makeup was only smudged artfully, and he was pretty sure he was going to get laid.

A guy in a leather jacket and tight jeans maybe a few years older than Mary stopped him on the street.

"Hey, man! I love your style."

Mary batted his eyelashes at him. "Thanks, dude."

"You ever think of dark modeling?"

Mary squinted his eyes at him.

"Dark what now?"

"You know—modeling but like," he gestured up and down Mary’s form, "for dark beauties. Show the world beauty isn’t cookie cutter."

"For like what? A website or some shit?"

The guy dug into his pocket, pulled out a card case, and handed one to Mary.

Heroes Greg Karson, Photographer/Web Design Butera School of Art

Actually, Mary had heard of this. It was a zine about the local happenings around town—concerts, art shows, parties, etc. There was a stack of them next to "Rrriot!" in the record shop. He’d flipped through one occasionally, mostly interested in the band reviews.

"We’re really on the lookout for anyone with the right look. You know, wear stuff you already own."

"So like a street fashion spread?"

"Well, we might do a little more with it, but—you know how it is. Most of the budget goes toward printing costs."

Mary perked up.

"Would I be paid?"

Greg laughed.

"Peanuts, my dude. But yeah. Even if it’s a T token. You interested, then?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Mind if I take a few test shots."

Mary smirked at Greg.

"How do you want me?"

"Just natural."

Putting his hands in his pockets, Mary arched his back and gave Greg his best snotty hipster face.

Greg dug out a digital camera from his carrying case and took a dozen or so pictures of Mary from different angles while telling him to turn this way or that.

Afterwards, the two of them huddled over the camera and scrolled through the shots.

"Aw yeah, this one. I love the attitude. The guys are gonna love it. You have a number where we can reach you?"

Mary gave him the number of the record shop. (His apartment had a phone, but he’d never gotten around to wanting to pay for service.)

Later, he and Amber looked up the Angelfire website on the back of the card. It was one page that contained the mission statement, bios of the creators, and locations to pick up the zine.

"Omigod—you’re gonna become a famous model, Mare!"

"Yeah, right. You know most of it ends up in the trash, right?"

But when Ben called, Mary said he was game. He directed Mary to a co-op in a converted warehouse in Dorchester, and Mary brought his favorite clothes in a borrowed duffle.

A girl in cat pajamas opened the door and pointed at a set of metal stairs with her cereal spoon.

On the second floor, Mary found Greg setting up a makeshift studio. A girl with multiple piercings and yarn dreads leaned against the wall in her black babydoll dress.

Mary sidled up to her.

"You here to model, too?"

She gave him an unimpressed once-over.

"I’m the art director, asshole."

Mary flushed hard as she turned to Greg.

"Couldn’t find one with brains?"

She turned back to Mary.

"I don’t know if you thought this would be a good way to meet chicks or what, dude. But I’m letting you know right now that I’m here on my day off to make sure this adheres to our aesthetic, so if you're not serious, fuck off."

Mary rubbed the back of his neck.

"Shit, sorry. I was expecting a dude named Ben."

She waved her hand in the air as if dispelling Ben.

"The Bens are morons. Good idea, terrible execution. I’m here to make sure we remain true to the idea of 'Heroes,' so don’t fuck up my shoot." She gave him a once over. "Christ. You have any experience?"

Greg turned from where he was testing the white balance.

"Angelique, stop harassing the talent. We get it, you have a degree from RISD."

Angelique snorted.

"As if I don't hear you going on and on about being a professional photographer. 'Hey, lemme shoot your portfolio, baby.' Whatever. As if we're not your only professional credit."

"Hey—you wanted a photographer for peanuts? You got me. You wanted models for peanuts? You got him."

Mary gave her his full snaggle-toothed grin.

"I take T tokens."

Angelique sighed, then pasted on a smile.

"Hi! So happy you’re here!" Her smile drooped. "You got your wardrobe in there?"

"Yeah."

Mary handed her the duffle, and she handed him release forms.

"Here: sign these"

She pawed through his offerings.

"Not bad, not bad." She pulled out a corset and his heeled boots. "We'll keep you in your jeans and have you wear your jacket over your corset. Cool?"

Cool.

The shoot was as professional as a shoot in a warehouse in what Mary was taking to usually be a living room could be. Angelique directed Greg with what she wanted. Greg called out positions and expressions for Mary to pose in.

It was surprisingly hard work, and by the end of a solid hour, his smirking lip was getting tired. Angelique and Greg scrolled through the shots, murmuring to themselves and nodding.

Mary waited—greeting at the other inhabitants as they squeezed by on their way either up or down—until Angelique approached him.

"That’ll do. You mind if we post on our website?"

Mary preened.

"Yeah, that’s kosher."

She handed him a pen and pocket notebook.

"Write down a quick bio."

He scribbled down a quick elevator pitch

Into general skulking and metal \m/

and handed the notebook back to her.

"Great, thanks."

She handed him a $20 bill, her eyes skimming him up and down.

"Next time we should show off those hip bones. Just jeans, I think."

Mary perked up. "Next time?"

"We’ll call you."

***

"Omigod, omigod!"

Amber perched on the record store counter, flipping through "Heroes," as Jon peered over her shoulder.

"Mary…look at you!"

Mary tried to swallow his smug smile.

Failed.

"Yeah. I’m hot shit, ain’t I?"

She bopped him on the nose with the newsprint.

"Don’t be vain."

He showed her his toothy smile.

"I like to think of it as confidence."

"So did Icarus."

Mary snorted and went back to putting prices on the new CDs.

"The camera loves you," said Jon, who was always quiet and reserved as you please…until he put on Frank’s corset and heels.

Mary had tried flirting with him, but Jon always ducked his head and played it off.

"Thanks, man," said Mary, giving him a softer smile.

"So??"

"So what, Amber?"

"Are you gonna do it again?"

Mary shrugged.

"I mean, if they call me, sure."

But he was kind of hoping they would.

When the next issue came out weeks later, Mary stared at the cybergoth on the pages and felt himself deflate. Listlessly, he thumbed through the delicate print, barely skimming the section devoted to the World/Inferno Friendship Society’s set he’d been at the week before.

He set it down with a sigh before he picked up his guitar and plucked out a tune he was trying to coax into a riff.

By the time a Ben called again, Mary had given up the modeling thing as a one-off.

"Hey, dude—thought maybe you guys forgot about me," Mary said in a teasing tone.

The Ben on the other end chuckled.

"It’s like herding cats to get shit out. Nah, dude—we definitely want you to be one of our regulars. You in for next Saturday?"

He was.

***

Over the course of a year, "Heroes" had Mary come out multiple times for shoots. Mainly, Mary wore his own clothes and did his own makeup, but occasionally, Angelique wanted something specific.

"How comfortable are you with boudoir shots?"

"With what?"

"Like a pinup, but more…saucy than sexy."

I'd pose nude if you paid me enough.

(Sure, he was a noodle boy, but he knew he had the goods.)

"Yeah, I’m cool with that."

Angelique brightened at him.

"Great!"

She picked up a set of complicated leather garters and thrust them at him.

"Put these on."

Mary had only ever worn lace garters—mostly out to clubs, but occasionally under his ripped jeans for an extra pop—but he found he liked these even more, liked the way they emphasized his thighs.

"Hey—where’d you get these…?"

(He was already thinking of what he could pair them with for goth night.)

"Local leatherworker. He mostly does pieces for Renn Fairs, but he'll also do custom. I can give you his info."

She led Mary into what was clearly someone's bedroom.

"Don't fuck anything up, or Joye will never let us use this again."

Mary shot her his best shark smile.

"Hey, I only mess up the sheets if someone asks."

Angelique gave him a flat look and called for Greg.

(But when he draped himself over the bed and told Greg to "Paint me like one of your French girls," Mary could have sworn she almost smiled.)

On one memorable occasion, she brought in a guy whose rope bondage demo she watched at a sex convention.

"Put on some of that lingerie and we'll truss you up. You ok with that, Goore?"

Mary ran his fingers over the coils and gave her a wolfish smile.

"You know I'm game for anything."

She gave him a vulpine smile of her own then, and she looked down at him from the height of her platformed boots.

"Good. I thought you should be submissive for once."

Mary had no witty rejoinder for that.

He listened with interest as the guy carefully explained what he was going to do, complete with pictures, and he relaxed easily into the process. (They put bunny ears on him, and it would be much, much later that he got that particular joke. Well played, Angelique.)

The ropes hadn’t let him do much posing, but Mary had kind of liked the constriction, and his thoughts were already on asking Amber to help him create a more versatile version for fetish night.

He’d left that day with a new kink…and the guy’s number.

"Why not just do one big shoot?" he asked another time. "Get it all done in one big bang!"

Angelique held up his garments to eyeball over him.

"Honey, we never even know if there's gonna be a next issue. The Bens spend most of the time arguing. My god you should hear them—Ben bankrolls the whole thing, so he says he should get final say on shit, and Benji wants total artistic control because it was his idea, because 'he's the graphic designer', and because it's his Kinko's employee discount they use."

She gave Mary a curled-lip smile as she tossed a few items at him.

"In the end it's this bitch you're looking at who gets shit done."

Mary began to change (they were long past modesty).

"How'd you get involved?"

"Went to school with Benji."

"Ben too?"

"Neg. The Bens are childhood friends. Ben works some cushy start-up job, so Benji lets him bankroll them both. Rent, utilities—everything. I love Benji to death, but he's a giant mooch."

"Shit, that must be nice."

Angelique shrugged. She stood back to appraise Mary's look.

"It's fucking lame. But it least it gets us fucking paid."

Mary didn't say I'd do this for free. Instead, he struck a pose and said, "I'm just happy for the exposure."

Angelique rolled her eyes and went to fetch Greg.

***

That year and a half would become a nonstop party with Mary as one of the VIPs; he wouldn't say no to anything—be it casual sex, club appearances, or whatever drug the current pretty thing was offering him in the bathroom.

But recognition started slow.

At first, it was customers who would leaf through the zine and recognize Mary.

Then, it was the occasional scenester who’d stop him on the street in JP as he walked about, and Mary would pose for grainy cell phone pics.

Soon, he was being approached at shows and clubs. The first time it happened, Mary was high off his new infamy and ready to please. A woman in a black bandage bra and pleated skirt with bondage straps approached him, and Mary was already thinking of what he could do with those.

"You look like that guy in ‘Heroes’!" she'd shouted to him over the music.

Mary had flashed her a crooked smile and leaned in.

"Maybe I am the guy in ‘Heroes’."

She'd given him an exaggerated once over before sidling closer with hooded eyes.

"I dunno…you're wearing way more clothes."

Mary had pulled his mesh top down by the collar in a tease as he'd curled over her.

"Take me somewhere more private and I’ll let you do a comparison."

She'd compared him all night.

And that was before he and the other "Heroes" models formed their own posse.

The Bens had thrown a BBQ and had invited everyone they'd ever met. There were people packed into their little 2 bedroom in Brighton, spilling down the back stairs, and equally packed into the little square of shared backyard. Ben had taken the 12-pack of 'Gansett beers Mary had brought, then introduced him to the other dark models.

"Now you're all here!" said Ben. He slung his arm around Mary. "Guys, this is Mary. Mary this is Mayhem, Lesley, Lola, and Bryan."

Mayhem was a rivethead, and Mary took to him instantly, but he was wary of the others. Lesley was the cybergoth who'd been in the first issue after him, and Mary still felt a bit salty at them, even though Mary knew by now the Bens rotated the models. Lola, the romantic goth, reminded him enough of Vanity that he felt guilty for losing touch with her and had him projecting a little. Bryan was a metalhead, so: competition.

Mary had thought they'd get along like cats and water, but weed, booze, and "Never Have I Ever" went a long way to creating a shared bond.

And there it was again. That pull. The magnetic force telling him that he'd found the place he was supposed to be. They quickly coalesced into their own pack, calling themselves the "Deathbutantes" (because they always killed it when they debuted for the night).

It had been rare for Mary to miss Friday and Saturday night shenanigans with the Rocky crew, but now, every night was Friday night. There was always a show or a concert or club that one of them knew about—and if they couldn't get lucky with the local color, they'd just go home with each other.

Mayhem taught Mary what Lola jokingly called the "grab a bat" dance, and the two of them cut quite the picture on the dance floors.

Lesley took to Lola, and the two of them could always be counted on for scintillating conversation in dark corners when Mary's limbst needed a break from flailing about.

The clubs weren't really Bryan's scene—take him to a sticky hole in the wall with concrete floors and a stage close enough to feel the sweat from the bands, and he was in heaven—but he liked to come along to hang. He'd drink PBRs, rub Lola's feet when she invariably abandoned her heels for the evening, and argue with Mary about the purity of death metal.

Mayhem and Lola weren't really into live music of the screaming kind, so—while Lesley, Bryan, and Mary bounced off each other in the mosh pits—they'd save a "home" base at one the bartops.

Amber noticed Mary's diminishing presence and stopped by the record shop to call him out.

"So you're not dead! Could've fooled me."

Mary was organizing the albums into order, and he grunted at her.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm a cad. I'll make it up to you."

"You missed game night."

"Sorry. Jethro Tull played some tiny venue in nowhere Mass, and Bryan was salivating. I mean, Jethro Tull. Can you blame me?"

He looked at her, arms out wide in supplication. But she just blinked at him.

"You have no idea who Jethro Tull is, do you?"

"Sorry, dude. But christ, Mare. You should have invited me. I'd've gone. Maybe I would have even liked them. Now you'll never know."

"I could just lend you an album."

"Nope! The moment passed. Too late!"

Mary riffled through the stock and shoved a Jethro Tull CD into her hands.

She tapped it against her thigh.

"So, when do I get to hang?"

"I can get us into 80s night free."

"No, I mean, with your cooler friends. Your 'murder models', or whatever."

"You wanna hang out with the Deathbutantes?"

Amber scrunched her nose.

"That's so fucking pretentious."

Mary kind of liked it.

"Dunno if they're really your scene."

"Oh? And what's my scene?"

"Musical theater on crack."

She mock gasped at him, "Called out!" before smacking him with the CD. "Whatever. You love musical theater on crack."

Mary draped his arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah, I do. But I don't live it, you know? You guys have your niche—and fuck…I love to visit—but it's not mine."

Amber looked up at him, her expression serious.

"So the Dumbutantes are your niche?"

Mary shrugged and went back to shelving.

The Rocky crew had been good to him. They'd taken him under their wing, no questions asked, and helped him realize things about himself. Tim had taken him to the ER when Mary had come down with a serious case of the flu. Matty had taught him the basics of sewing. Gretchen had held him after a bad trip. Omar and he had had many drunken heart-to-hearts about their shitty home lives.

And Amber was his best friend. She'd been his #1 cheerleader for years and had never been afraid to call him out on his shit.

So yeah, he loved the Rocky crew…but they laughed at anyone who took anything too seriously. Mary would show up to game nights in his latest creation—with everyone else in pjs or jeans & hoodies—and they'd tease him about trying to impress the wrong people. He'd try to talk about the newest guitar god he'd been mainlining, and they'd make snoring noises at him.

How could he explain the kinship he felt with the Deathbutantes? That they were as serious about music as he was, that they just…got why he felt the need to dress the way he did to express the way he felt inside on his outside.

Instead, he said, "I'm just trying shit out, Ambs." He quirked his eyebrow at her. "I gotta do something while you guys do your real-person jobs."

(Amber had recently started as a junior marketing assistant at the American Repertory Theater. "Purely mercenary," she'd said. "Maybe it'll give me a leg up during auditions.")

She made a disgruntled scoffing noise in the back of her throat.

"Fuck, don't remind me. I actually gotta go to bed a reasonable hour now."

"Don't worry." Mary winked at her. "I'll keep ya honest."

"That sounds a lot like my head in a toilet, Mare."

"I'll hold your hair back."

She gave him a good-natured shove, and he pretended to cower.

If she wanted to cross pollinate, who was Mary to stand in her way? So, he invited her out the next time the Deathbutantes went to a show, and it went exactly like he thought it would.

They disliked her, and she was equally unimpressed. They thought she was too loud and frenetic, and she thought they had no sense of humor.

"I fucking told you," Mary had snorted as they sat on the curb sharing a clove.

"Shut the fuck up, Mare."

But she'd put her head on his shoulder.

"They make you happy, though. So I guess I approve. Just as long as I don't have to play nice."

Mary still hung out with the Rocky crew—there were still game nights and drug-fueled sex parties and theater games—but the Deathbutantes introduced him to the underground scene. They always seemed to have insider knowledge about the best up-in-coming bands and the secret shows. Theme nights at the goth clubs were always a must, and they rarely missed one. Sometimes, Angelique would crash, and they'd take the commuter rail to Providence to party at Club Hell before collapsing in a sweaty, smeary pile at a friend of a friend's hole in the wall.

As a bit player in the Rocky crew, Mary had been another made-up face in the crowd. As a certified member of the Deathbutantes, Mary became the face.

They all did.

The owners loved them because they bought round after round at the bar, and if word got out that the Deathbutantes were there, their admirers came to spend money as well. The employees loved them because they were fun and talked to them as equals. The clientele loved them because they were pretty young things.

Sometimes, though, Mary wasn't in the mood to party or get laid, so he talked to the DJs instead. He'd buy them rounds and stay past closing to help them pack up while they talked about the history of punk and 80s new wave and nu metal. There was one in particular, Dave, that Mary even considered a friend.

The two of them would sit in the club past closing, sharing a whiskey and talking about life while the bartenders closed down and cashed out. Occasionally, Dave's other friends would be around, and they'd all walk back to his place; he'd fool around spinning in his home studio, and they'd drink box wine as they danced and laughed before Mary would have to sit on the ground in an intoxicated exhaustion, good for only thumbing through Dave's vinyl collection.

Mary was just happy to talk shop with another music aficionado, but Angelique had pointed out that he should leverage his minor clout.

They'd been waiting for Greg to finish setting up, and Mary had been struggle city after a particularly hard night out. It was all he could manage to sit there quietly and hope some god would put him out of his misery.

"You need to get your shit together," Angelique had said out of nowhere.

Mary had cracked a puffy eye and had slowly (as to not bring the nothing in his stomach back up) turned his head to her.

"As if I haven't seen your melted ass on the floor wanting to die."

"Fuck, Mary. You've turned it into an art form."

He'd closed his eyes and given her the finger, but that hadn't stopped her.

"You wanna be a rockstar, boy? You can't just sit on your ass and hope the right person on the right night hears you. You're effervescent and charismatic—heads turn when you walk into a room and not just because of your skinny jeans—but you need more than air, Mary, which is all you are right now."

"Fuck you, Angela."

She'd clapped in front of his face, and she was lucky he didn't Exorcist bile all over her.

"You're a fucking pain in my ass, Goore. I'm doling out the good stuff, try not to bite my hand off, k?"

"All right, all right!"

"You wanna start that band? You wanna get play and amass fans? Well, make that demo you're always droning on about and give it to those DJs you're alway fanboying over. Fucking network, Goore."

At the time, Mary had been too hungover to care, but her advice would sink in…

Eventually.

For the time being, Mary was content. He loved the attention, and it made him feel invincible, made him feel like it was finally His Time. And he was going to make up for every slight, every unfair situation, and every beat down with sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll.

With his newfound nightlife, Mary's day job had become an afterthought. He started sleeping through opening shifts, but with the extra foot traffic Mary brought to the store, his boss seemed resigned to let Mary slide (after a stern talking to and a pay docking).

The shadow cast had started using him as a mascot of sorts, and he was happy to show up on Saturday nights and hype up the waiting line with a pseudo striptease. (Even if it was sometimes to kick off his evening with the Deathbutantes and not hang with the cast after.)

Mary started a band ("auditioning" any and all of the many admirers who said they’d be more than happy to join it), and after a few false starts and a couple of lineup changes, they began working on an EP. (At least, when Mary showed up to rehearsal, they did.)

A Boston Phoenix reporter got wind of the Deathbutantes and called around about doing a story on them. The Bens were excited about the exposure that meant for their zine, and Angelique and Greg were excited about what it could mean for their careers. Mary did a brief interview over the phone where he answered questions about his style and talked about his dream of making his band a household name.

Mary saw his name up in lights, and he was reaching for it, full speed ahead.

But then things turned.

The story fell through at the last minute with no further explanation or contact by the reporter.

His boss finally fired him after Mary showed up too high to function too many times—or not at all.

The shadow cast had a turnover, and suddenly he was old news—a cringey hanger-on.

A trip to the clinic and a round of antibiotics for an STI had him way more wary of who he hooked up with.

"Heroes" lost momentum when imitators popped up and Ben cut off the gravy train.

Angelique moved to NYC for "better opportunities," and the Bens took their brand of counterculture to Portland, OR.

Greg took down the website when he got offered a legit job as an apprentice at a food magazine, and that was that.

The physical zines were cheap things, most ending up papering the sidewalk after trash day or lining the bottom of cages. Without the online presence, did Mary's "modeling career" even exist?

Mary was a little sad to see the era go, but when he woke up in Maine on the hood of some girl's car and only a hazy recollection of how they'd gotten there, he was beginning to see Angelique's point. He needed to get his shit together if he was ever going to become a rockstar. And frankly, he kind of felt like he needed to spend an entire month eating carrots and hydrating.

The 24/7 party had always been an ephemeral thing; it had been sand passing through his hands in a finite amount as he'd tried to hold onto it

He put himself on detox, and waking up sober for the first time in months felt like a revelation. And as it turned out, playing the guitar without badly shaking hands was way, way easier.

He found another job in another music store, and his starter!band was bringing butts into the smaller venues, like Toad.

He still had his old Rocky friends and the Deathbutantes. The club and venue owners still let him in for free, and Dave was always happy to give his demos a spin. By anyone's else's measure, he was steal one of the scene's darlings.

But Mary was beginning to realize that he needed to stop seeing himself as that scared kid who’d arrived in Boston 4 years ago with only a backpack, $72.57 to his name, and void where his family should be.

He needed to stop finding people to please into loving him.

Instead, he needed to live for himself and let them love him for who he was—fuck ups and all.

@slimylayne

Epilogue

"Honestly, that’s probably the reason I even got a band together," he says. "I was still kind of shit at guitar, but people came to see ‘Model Mary’ perform in his underwear."

He shoots me a smirk.

"I’m sure there’re pictures out there of me looking more glam than metal. I kind of played up the whole pinup thing for a while."

"Fuck, I would kill, literally kill to see that."

He pulls me into his lap until I’m straddling him.

"I could open up my underwear drawer and show you right now."

"Goore, you temptress."

I lean down to kiss him, and his hands sneak under my shirt, but I pull away again.

"I kinda thought I knew all your torrid secrets by now. Shit, how come Dave's never needled you about it?"

After 2 years with him, I’m surprised I hadn't even heard a peep from his oldest friend.

Mary snorts.

"Dave would miss shit hanging off his nose. Great dude, amiable as fuck, but he's always had fucking tunnel vision for his music."

I smirk at him.

"Sounds like someone else I know."

Mary pulls a face at me, and I apply kisses to every line until he laughs and bats me away.

"But really, Mare—how come you never told me about your brief career in blue steel?"

He blows out a breath, his hands smoothing up my thighs.

"Fuck. Cuz maybe I was a little embarrassed at how off the rails I was then, ok? Didn't want you to know what I fuck up I was." He takes my hand and kisses my palm. "And even I know it's a shit move to pitch woo at someone by telling them about banging half of Boston."

I make a face at him, and he laughs.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought."

His hands rest on my waist.

"Christ, everything about that year's a bit fuzzy, and it was like 10 years ago. Sometimes it feels like it happened to someone else, honestly. And shit—most of those people aren’t even around anymore. College kids who moved on and 20-somethings that grew up and moved who knows where. I used to watch Amber have—what is it when it’s four people?—and now she lives in bumblefuck Pennsylvania with 3 kids. After she left, I just kinda drifted away from all that."

He shrugs, his eyes downcast.

"I’m sorry, Mare," I say as I smooth his eyebrows.

He shrugs again.

"I mean, we all kinda keep in touch. It's like the only reason I have Facebook."

"When was the last time you even signed into that?"

Mary grins at me.

"Lola's birthday."

"One of the models? What happened with them?"

Mary bites his lip and thinks.

"Mayhem found religion after an OD and kinda ghosted everyone. Lesley followed a girl to New Hampshire. Uh…Lola pursued a PhD for something sciencey involving renewable energy with sugar beets in Idaho, and Bryan moved back to Florida to care for his grandma, who raised him."

Mary leans his head back on the couch and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"I mean, shit. We were fucking babies back then. Head empty except for a good time and unlimited potential."

I run my fingers through his hair.

"You miss it?"

His eyes pop open to look at me.

"Fuck no. Not for a million dollars. Too many question marks." His eyes glint as he runs his hands down me. "I like what I got going on right here."

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and kiss his forehead. The fucking sap.

Mary picks up my phone and scrolls through the pictures again.

"Fuck. I used to be goddamn adorable, though. Half this shit wouldn’t even fit me anymore."

I squish his little potbelly, and he grunts at me indignantly.

"Do you still have any originals?" I ask.

He shakes his head, his eyes wistful and his smile sad.

"Nah. Got destroyed when my roof collapsed and leaked everywhere. Fuck, landlords are useless. Glad we fucking own now, babe."

He scrolls up, scrolls back down.

"Just these four?"

I nod.

"Yeah. They were the only ones I found—and I did a lot of searching."

"Christ, I think there were at least 10."

I smile ruefully at him. "It’s not gonna be long anyway before they make their way into the popular tags and shit starts coming out of the woodwork."

He tosses my phone onto the table.

"Whatever. Just shows that I’ve always been cool."

And then he’s kissing me again, his hand tangling in my hair.

"You know, I’m your family now, Mare. Just for you."

He brings my hand up and kisses it.

"Fuck, I know that. Why’dja think I put a ring on it?"

#mary goore #longfic #gender neutral insert #aurelio voltaire

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raindancer2004 · 4 years ago

Text

Alec and his Cinderella

Word Count: 3,195 Alec x reader Part One Warnings: Alec is aged up. Fluff, Angst

Alec was sitting his room reading although he wasn’t enjoying the book; having read it many times before. He came to the realisation that he was bored; he needed a change of scenery, something new to do but he wasn’t sure what. “Are you ok brother?” Jane asked “You’ve been looking at the same page for ten minutes” Alec didn’t answer her right away “I’m just…a little bored. I mean I’ve read this book many times before….” “Well of course it’s your favourite” Jane cut him off “I know…but…oh I don’t know…” He ran his fingers through his hair “I suppose I’m…bored. We haven’t had a mission in weeks” Alec continued, Jane nodded “I didn’t realise it had been that long brother.”

Aro called a meeting with the elite guard “Thank you for coming dear ones. My brothers and I have something we would like to discuss with you. Renesmee is now fully grown and has requested the chance to go out into the human world; attend High School, see what it’s like but doesn’t wish to do so with her family. She got in touch to ask if it was ok for her to do so seeing as her father told Caius that he would keep her hidden from the human world” “Glad to see one of the Cullen children has a brain cell” Caius said snidely, causing the guards to smirk; Aro rolled his eyes at his brother and continued “She has agreed that one of you accompany her instead. I just need a volunteer” “No chance” Felix mumbled “I’ll go master. I think a change of scenery will be good” Alec replied “Fancy your chances with her do you?” Demetri asked winking at Alec “Oh yeah totally” Alec replied sarcastically and rolling his eyes.

“Will you be coming too sister?” “No. I couldn’t possibly leave Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum on their own for that length of time, imagine the chaos” Jane replied nodding in Demetri and Felix’s direction “Ha…I do love the affectionate nicknames you give each other” Aro said smiling “I doubt he’d say that if he knew some of the names we call her” Felix said low to Demetri, who choked back a laugh.

“That’s settled then Alec will be going to forks and the three of you will stay here and cover his duties. Although I might get Afton to cover Alec’s guard duties” Caius said with a wicked smile. “How soon do I need to be in Forks?” Alec asked “In a rush to see her are we?” Felix asked grinning “Grow up” Alec glared him. “You can leave as soon as you are ready, my boy” Aro answered “Give our best wishes to them won’t you Alec” Marcus said low “Of course master” He replied and returned to his room to pack.

Sometime later Demetri, Jane and Felix stopped by “So how come you volunteered so quick to go High School? I thought you hated humans” Demetri asked “Not to mention the Cullens” Felix added “I came to the realisation recently that I am bored and would like a change of scenery…and well this will provide me with that” Alec answered “Rather you than me mate…I mean the Cullens are bad enough but to be around that Dog all the time, no thanks” Felix said scrunching up his nose at the thought of the Wolf pack. “Just remember you have to play nice with the humans Alec…They’re your friends now so that means you cannot eat them” Demetri says smirking pointing his index finger at him; Felix and Jane cant help laughing “Get bent” Alec growled “Really sister?” He asked turning to face her “I’m sorry but that was funny, it was like weird dad advice” She said giggling “Don’t eat your friends…ha” She continued to laugh “If you need me to attend parent / teacher conferences, you only have to call” Demetri added smiling, Jane was practically doubled over with laughter “Can you…i-imagine it…Demetri attend-attending…those meetings...he’d flirt with all your teachers” “At least Alec would get good grades then” Felix added laughing “Thank you so much for your support in this…it’s truly overwhelming” Alec said not sounding amused “Sorry brother…you have my full support…honest” Jane said trying to sound serious now “Yes…you have my full support too…son” Demetri smiled and gave Alec a playful wink. “Mine too” Felix adds.

A few days Alec arrived in Forks, Esme collecting him from the airport “Hello Alec. It’s nice to see you. I trust you had a good flight?” She asked him “Hello Mrs Cullen. It’s nice to see you too. The flight was ok if you don’t count the child that spent half the flight crying and screaming” He replied “Sorry to hear that. No need for Mrs Cullen, you can call me Esme” “Thank you Mrs…Esme” He replied “We have set you up in Edward’s old room, there’s a bookcase full of books, a desk even a TV and a bed, should you wish to relax in your own space” She told him with a smile “Thank you for letting me stay with you” “You’re very welcome Alec. It’s the least we can do seeing as you are helping out Renesmee. I do have to tell you though there is one rule that must be followed during your stay. You aren’t allowed to…satisfy your dietary requirements shall we say in Forks. You will need to leave the city for that” “I understand…we have a similar rule back home…Volterra is out of bounds when it comes to...satisfying our dietary requirement” Alec responds.

Esme pulls up on the drive and sees Renesmee waiting for them “I should warn you Renesmee is really excited you’re here so…be prepared for a hug” Alec nods ‘surely she wouldn’t’ he thought to himself. “Alec! You’re here” Renesmee calls out; running and wrapping her arms around his neck giving him a hug, Alec hesitantly wraps his arms around her waist “Told you” Esme says smiling as she walks past them. “Ha…you owe me $10 Jas” Emmett calls out laughing.

That night Carlisle, Esme, Alice and Jasper sat in the family room with Alec and explained the cover story the school were told regarding himself and Renesmee. “It has been several years since any of our children have attended the school here; so we had to come with a plausible cover you and Ness, especially as no one really knows about her and I still work at the local hospital” Carlisle began, Alec nodded “Just a bit background for you first regarding us. Jasper poses as Rosalie’s twin and they use her last name Hale and it is known that they are the niece and nephew of Esme’s late brother. Emmett, Alice and Edward all use the name Cullen as Esme and I adopted them” Carlisle added. “Ok, so how do Renesmee and I fit into the family?” Alec asked “So Jasper had the idea that you and Ness should pose as siblings and use his last name of Whitlock. You would be the Carlisle’s niece and nephew and after losing your parents recently you have come to live with us” Esme explained. “That sounds alright actually. You’re good at this” Alec smiled. “Oh and we thought it would make sense if you and Ness were twins so you’d be in the same year at school” Alice added smiling “I have your new ID too courtesy of a friend” Jasper said handing Alec a birth certificate and passport “Thank you Jasper”

The day before school starts Renesmee pays Alec a visit “I’m going to hunting, would you like to come?” She asked him “You mean animals?” He asked in return his nose wrinkling at the thought “Not necessarily…I mean prefer your diet to ours…so I game either way” She smiled and he noticed the mischievous glint in her eyes “As much as I’d love that, I do not think your family would approve of you switching to my diet during my stay” Alec answered “Well then that means you can try our diet during your stay. Come on I’ll show you how to hunt animals” She sounded excited at the thought of showing someone how to hunt so he didn’t tell her that he had hunted animals previously on a mission albeit decades ago.

“Oh my god! You were so fast and you took down that Mountain Lion quicker than dad usually does” Ness said grinning as she and Alec entered the house “You taught me well Ness” Alec praised her “Thank you Alec” Edward chuckled having read Alec’s thoughts that he had hunted animals before but he appreciated Alec’s little lie and the hunting trip had helped them bond a little.

“Where have you been? Why are you with him?” Jake almost growled giving Alec a disgusted look “Shit” Emmett said from upstairs “Get lost Jake. Where I go and who with is none of your business” Ness replied “Come on Alec” She grabbed his hand and went to walk around Jake but he side stepped blocking her path “That is where you are wrong. It is my business” Jake raised his voice and before Ness knew what was happening Alec pushed her behind him and squared up to Jake “You have a problem with Ness, you have a problem with me! And for the record Ness doesn’t report to you, she can do whatever she likes. NOW MOVE!” Alec growled and stood his ground ready to defend Ness if needed, after all she was his ‘sister’ and no one was going to hurt her. Jake snarled at Alec and began shaking “Take it outside Jake!” Jasper warned from the top of the stairs “Don’t make me tell you a second time” “FINE!” Jake shoved past Alec on the way out “This isn’t over” He mumbled as he slammed the door behind him. “Thank you Alec” Ness said low “You’re welcome. Come on you promised me a movie night remember” Alec replied walking upstairs and Ness followed.

“I didn’t expect him to protect Ness like that” Emmett said to Jasper and Edward “Posing as siblings is easier if you think of one another as siblings” Edward replied “You mean he…he thinks of her a sister?” Jasper asked “Kind of. Think of it like this he is so used to having Jane around and doing things with her and although he knows she can take care of herself, he still protects and defends her. He has fallen into that brotherly role easily with Ness because A) she is alot younger than he is B) he didn’t like the way Jake spoke to her and C) he’s unsure if Ness could fully defend herself against Jake’s wolf form if she was ever put in that situation” Edward answered. “It’s a good thing he’s here then, maybe Jake will back off and respect her decision” Jasper replied.

Alec and Renesmee start High School the following week, the start of a new school year and Alec was surprised to discover that he was excited about this new venture. Although he missed Jane it was nice having Ness around and he had to admit he liked her company. Her view on things, on life was different; refreshing, as she was seeing everything for the first time, experiencing everything for the time and he had become fascinated by her and her reaction to the world. Ness introduced him to the world of Disney and the many princesses that lived within it. He decided to introduce Jane to the world of Disney once he was back at the castle.

The atmosphere at the Cullen house was quite relaxed compared to the castle; it definitely had a ‘family home’ vibe that he got used to very quickly, Esme and Carlisle making him feel as though he was part of their family from day one. He got along with Jasper easily as they would talk about history for hours; exchanging ‘war stories’ at times too. Emmett and Alec bonded over Emmett’s computer games; Alec would often beat him at Mario Cart, but would lose to him when playing Killer Instinct. Alice reminded him of Jane when it came to her knowledge of fashion trends; the season’s newest colours, her love of shopping and having her nails painted. Rosalie taught Alec about cars and he was amazed by her knowledge and love of them.

The first term of school went by rather quickly; Alec and Ness joined the chess team and Alec is elected the team captain. They both scored top marks in their ‘team project’ for history; Alec having been around during that time gave them an advantage.

They went to a school field trip to the Seattle Museum; something Alec and Ness found interesting and amusing “Hey, I’ve just realised something” Ness said low to Alec; who raised an eyebrow at her “You’re probably older than some of the exhibits Alec” Ness whispered “Are you saying I’m old?” “No not at all Alec…I’m saying you’re ancient” Ness said laughing “You say ancient, I say experienced, young one” Alec replied smiling “Young one? – Ha. You’re funny Alec” Ness responded.

A few days later Jake arrived at the Cullen house whilst everyone was out except for Alec and Ness “Ness! Ness! Where are you?” Jake yelled as he made his way through the house; Ness purposely ignoring him “So Alec, I’m struggling with question four, can you please explain it?” Ness asked as she and Alec were doing their homework together. “Of course. So…” “What the hell Ness? Did you not hear me call you?” Jake cut off Alec “And why are you here with him?” “I did hear you call and I chose to ignore you and what does it look like I’m doing?” Ness replied “Don’t take that tone with me!” Jake growled out “You should be at home not here” “You don’t own me Jacob and I don’t have to answer to you” Ness replied “That is where you are wrong! You belong to ME” He growled getting closer to her “And I forbid you to spend time with him outside of school. Is that clear?!” Ness didn’t answer “IS THAT CLEAR?!” He growled louder, mere inches from Ness when black mist swirled around him removing all of his senses but one – hearing “Listen to me Jake. Ness doesn’t belong to you, she doesn’t belong to anyone. Ness can do what she wants, when she wants and with whomever she wants. If you ever speak to her that way again I will RIP you to pieces and burn them. Is that understood…DOG?!” Alec got louder as he spoke. “Ness doesn’t want you. You should leave…NOW!” Alec added calmly but authoratively and returned Jake’s senses; Jake was preparing to lunge at Ness but Alec was quicker he pushed Ness out of the way and threw Jake across the room. Jake crashed through the glass balcony doors and landed in a heap outside, right at Emmett’s feet. “I think that means you’re not welcome here Jake” Emmett smirks as he steps over him making his way inside. Carlisle and Esme flash to Alec’s room to find Ness crying and being in Alec’s arms “You’re ok…I’ve got you. You’re safe…I promise” Alec whispered and tightened his hold on her. Carlisle and Esme took a seat on the bed and Alec filled them on Jake’s visit and apologised for the damage to the doors.

The High School decided to throw a ‘Winter Masquerade Ball’ with the emphasis on being the ‘mystery behind the mask.’ As ball got nearer, Alec and Ness went shopping for their outfits and masks. Ness picked a deep purple sleeveless floor length dress, a purple and black mask, and a pair of black shoes. Alec chose a dark grey suit with a deep purple shirt, a light grey tie and black shoes. His mask was black and grey. “I’m really excited, I’ve never been to a ball before” Ness said grinning ear to ear “I must admit it has been a long time since I attended a ball. The masters used to hold them regularly at the castle, but there hasn’t been one in quite some time” He told her.

Y/N attends the ‘Winter Masquerade Ball’ at the High School and Alec noticed her the moment she entered the school hall dressed in a pink sleeveless prom dress with white flowers scattered over the dress with a pink and silver mask. “Sorry Alec, am I keeping you from something or someone?” Renesmee asked with a smile when she noticed him look over shoulder towards the door “No…I…Er…What was you saying?” Alec responded “I was just asking if you think you’ll dance with anyone here tonight?” Renesmee replied “Well…erm…a girl in a pink dress just came in on her own, so I could ask her…but what about you?” “Go ask her to dance, I’ll be ok. I can ask Matt from English class” Ness replied “Thank you Ness. How will you which one is Matt, the whole point of tonight is the ‘mystery behind the mask’?” Alec asked curious “I heard Matt tell Lee what colour mask he’ll be wearing” Ness replied.

Alec approached the girl in the pink dress “Would you like to dance?” He smiled and held his hand out to her. “That’d be nice thank you” Y/N placed her hand in his and he led them to the dance floor.

They danced and spoke to one another throughout the night; never exchanging names. Alec found himself becoming intrigued by her; the way she moved elegantly around the dance floor with him, the warmth he felt holding her in his arms during the slow songs, her voice was soft and her laugh was quickly becoming his new favourite sound. “Would you like a drink?” He asked her “Yes, please a drink sounds good” She replied “Wait here. I’ll be right back” Alec made his way to the drinks table and got the girl a drink, making himself one too. He turned and started to make his way back to her when he saw her look at the clock and then turn and run from the room. Alec set the drinks down on a table of full of teenagers and followed her out; being careful to run at a human speed. He couldn’t see her; she had disappeared before he was able to say goodnight, before he could get her name or number, something he was going to do at the end of the Ball. He tried to pick up her scent, follow her to ensure she got home safe but that’s when he realised that he hadn’t recognised her scent whilst dancing with her, so that meant they didn’t have any classes together. ‘wait she had no scent, not one I can remember anyway’ he thought to himself. He felt frustrated as he had never felt so at peace around a human before and now he’s lost her; the only reminder that she was real, the only clue he had to try and find her was a silver shoe she left behind as she ran off into the night.

#alec volturi #jane volturi #demetri volturi #felix volturi #aro volturi #caius volturi #marcus volturi #renesmee cullen #esme cullen #volturi #the cullens #jasper hale #emmett cullen #alice cullen #carlisle cullen #edward cullen #bella cullen #rosalie hale

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imaginesmai · 5 years ago

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Tom Holland - Lost kid

You seen those post where a couple goes shopping, the boy gets lost and the security guard calls the girl through the speaker because of her ‘misplaced kid’? Yeah, I did that, and I’m not sorry.

Plot: Tom and you spent your last weekend before going home in Disney World, and he turns out to be one of those boyfriends who end up in the ‘lost kids’ deparment.

This is pure crack humor.

“You’re so slow” you whined, lacing your hand with Tom’s and tugging once more.

The cotton candy in your hand was slowly but surely becoming smaller with the passing hours, and even if you felt like you were going to be sick with so much sugar, you couldn’t let go of the sweet treat. After all, not every day you had the whole day off and you could spend it with him. You savoured the sensation of the sugar-spun could melting on your tongue once more, and raised your other hand to fiddle with the Minnie mouse headband perched on the crown of your head.

You didn’t look back, too engrossed gazing at everything around you, but Tom could only see you.

He half regretted not getting another pair of ears, thinking it was too cliché and boring to dress up as a matching couple. But one thing was seeing them on the posters or on strangers, and another was seeing them adorably resting on your head. He still had the robin hood’s shirt and the Nemo’s key-ring on his keys, so he was happy enough.

You tugged again at his wrist and it almost made him drop everything he was carrying. He scoffed and reorganized everything on his arms.

“I can’t walk any faster, Y/N” he chuckled, still fastening the pace. “You’ve loaded me like a mule”

Indeed, Tom wasn’t even recognizable from all the things he was carrying. He had insisted on carrying everything from the beginning, wanting to let you enjoy the day instead of going back to the car, which would take him a while to find. So in his arms stood two plushies of Crash and Eddie for Harry and Sam, a huge puzzle with more than 10000 pieces, all the flyers you had been taking from the different parts of the park, his own cotton candy and, if that wasn’t enough, a huge Olaf that the store manager had gifted him with, and that Tom had given to you.

Your face peeked from between the plushie and he swore he could be carrying the whole thing if he got to stare at it. Your cheeks were slightly sunburned from the day before and you had on a light lipstick you had bought. He smiled sweetly and reached across the Olaf to peck your lips. As soon as it started it was over, and you were once more hanging from his arm and pulling him around.

“Come on, it has to be around here” you kept moving forwards and looking around.

“I’m still not sure what we’re looking for”

“The – oh my god, it’s there! Tom. Tom!”

You kept saying his name and Tom’s heart grew significantly in his chest. As you walked towards whatever you had seen, Tom thought he wouldn’t have had his holidays any other way. You had come to visit the last day of his new project recording, and had surprised him in the best way. He still had to stay in America for two longs weeks, and without Harry or any of his friends around, it was being hard. Your idea had been to stay with him for two weeks and then go back to England to spend the holidays home; but then, Tom had surprised you by visiting Disney World in Orlando.

Your flight was Monday morning, and you still had one more day to stay in the wonderful city before leaving. Even if Tom wanted to go home more than anything, he didn’t think Disney World with you was so bad.

Tom walked past a bin and threw quickly the remains of his cotton candy and, without you noticing, at least half of the flyers you had given him. He was sure you could live without some of them – but he couldn’t keep going with his arms full. That left him with the puzzle bag, the smaller one with the twins’ gifts, and the huge Olaf. The short second of relief was cut short when he realized he couldn’t see you anymore. Blinking confused, he looked around and tried to search for the Minnie ears.

Only to discover, that he was surrounded by them.

“Hello, sir!” Tom turned to his right and saw a chubby man looking at him. He was wearing the staff uniform and some ridiculous fake moustache, that seemed to be part of some costume half done. “I’m going to have to ask you to step back. The show is about to start. And we’re reserving this area for shorter kids”

“Uh” Tom looked around, and as the guy said, the place was filled with kids; and his parents, who were even taller than Tom. “I’m just looking for –“

“If you would be so kind to accompany me, I can guide you to the back” he interrupted Tom. “There you can see the show too without getting into a kid’s line of view”

The man started walking without looking back, and Tom just stood on his place. Again, he looked around, going so far to even turn around. He was sure it had only been a few seconds, and you couldn’t even walk that fast to lose him in the crowd. He tried to think in what moment you had released his arm and kept walking as he looked through the crowd. Thousands of Minnie ears stared back at him, each one attached to a different person, and neither of them was you.

Tom felt an inch of anxiety initiating in his brain, and he gripped the Olaf close to him. He tried to think if you had said where you wanted to go, or where exactly he was. But he could only remember the damned Olaf’s face as he followed you without seeing anything.

“Sir, I think – have you heard me?” Michael, judging the tag he had on his jacket, was back and frowning in front of Tom. “I’m sorry, but this is a kid’s reserved area. You can’t be here”

“Yeah, I know. I’m – fuck, I’m sorry” Tom felt beads of sweat running down his neck. “I just – I – she was with me, a-and now I can’t find her? She can’t have gone too far, because it has only been a second. But she was right beside me, and –“

“Oh, I didn’t realize you had lost your kid, sir!” Michael took out of his pocket a small black radio and a comforting hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Can you tell me what she looks like? We have security cameras everywhere, we’re gonna find her”

Tom didn’t know if it was better to burst into tears or to scream his lungs out. He wanted to find you, and he knew enough to understand the longer it was the farther you would be. But there were some lines Tom wasn’t going to step by – as having his name known for losing his girlfriend in Disney World and needing help to find her.

He tried to convince himself that he was good and could find you without anyone’s help, even if he probably looked on the verge of tears.

“It’s not my kid” Tom explained, and if he could, he would have brought a hand to the back of his neck. “She’s my girlfriend”

Michael took his hand off Tom’s shoulder and emitted a soft ‘huh’, all the compassion leaving his eyes. He didn’t seem to recognize Tom, although it must have been hard since he was carrying the Olaf and a black basketball cap on his head.

“In that case, we can look for her together” Michael gave him a tight smile, clearly wanting Tom out of there before the show started. “If you accompany me, I can help –“

“No, it’s fine. I can do it on my own” Tom scoffed. He tried to return the smile, but it came out way to hesitant. He looked around once more, as if you were going to appear suddenly.

“If your girlfriend was here, she isn’t now, as my partners are asking everyone to leave this are. As I’ve asked you, sir” Michael chuckled dryly. “So, maybe you can keep looking for her in the adult’s area”

“I’ll just look around to check” Tom said, not too convinced. And, maybe, not wanting to admit that he was the one lost.

Michael’s eye shook dangerously, as if he was restraining himself from dragging Tom out himself. The first song of the show started, and some weird characters Tom hadn’t seen before walked out on the stage. Kids around him started shouting in excitement, and parents hoisted them up on his shoulders. Usually, the sight would have been sweet for Tom, but in that moment, it made him not see anything apart from Michael’s eye tick and the Minnie ears everywhere.

The beads of sweat turned on in cold sweat when Tom heard the characters calling out for the kids. He knew he couldn’t stay there much longer – but he also knew, he didn’t know where to go. He regretted just staring at you when you explained things and not wanting to carry a map himself. If he was being truthful, he was more worried about him than yourself.

“Sir, I really don’t want to call security” Michael talked again, his smile as fake as the Olaf on his arms. “If you would be so kind to accompany me, we can wait in the lost kids’ area for your girlfriend”

Tom scoffed at the thought and walked towards the exit without another glance to Michael. He could feel the staff guy boring holes into the back of his head as he dodged parents with their kids and got out of the kids’ area. He could almost hear your endless teasing if you had to pick him up from the lost children’s stand, and he wasn’t about to get through the embarrassment.

Besides, ahead of him were the holidays in his house, and his brothers would for sure hear the story. By the time he made it out of the crowd, he was determinated to search for you on his own. Even if Michael was still hot on his heels.

“Now, the lost –“

“I can manage fine on my own” Tom bit back, and he kind of sounded like an asshole. Not that Michael minded, as them an seemed to find the situation quite funny.

“Disney World is quite the big place, sir” Michael gave him a smug smirk. “I’m sure it would be easier for both you and your girlfriend if you came with me”

“No, she has to be around somewhere” Tom shifted the Olaf on his arms, and cursed at how ridiculous he looked with it. “It hasn’t been that long”

Tom didn’t let Michael talk anymore and turned his back on him, ignoring the smile on his face. It was as if he was screaming at him ‘stupid’ with capital letters. Maybe, if he hadn’t been smiling, Tom would have gone with him and listened to the logical part of his brain. Looking for you in the whole park could take him hours, considering that you didn’t move from your place. But that ‘Michael’ was still smirking behind him, and when Tom looked back, he raised a brow at him; as if he was challenging him to come back later.

He would not be coming back, Tom thought, as he hugged Olaf close to him and reached for his empty pocket to pick up his phone. His phone, the only thing you had been carrying after taking some photos because his was better than yours. That was probably on your bag along with the maps and the car keys.

Tom stopped and let his hand hanging midway. At least, he would not be looking at Michael when he came back.

If there was some kind of manual for being a girlfriend, you still had to get it. You mom always joked about how she got a book with ‘mom phrases’ when she had you, and that was in part why she always found what you were looking for. You guessed there had to be one for girlfriends too, one that you had still to get. Because you didn’t know what to do when you received a call from a stranger’s phone telling you that you had to come and pick your child. You had almost hang up, too busy trying to find Tom, when you had recognized his voice on the background screaming that he wasn’t a kid but a responsible adult.

And the sight in front of you was something new too.

Tom was sitting on a chair that was designed for small children who had to wait there until their parents could find them. He wasn’t the broadest, neither the biggest man you had met, but still it was quite funny seeing his whole body hunched over a yellow plastic table, with Olaf sitting by his right.

The kind man who had talked with you on the phone had received you on the entrance, showing you where Tom was; and then, he had left saying something about not being paid enough.

The place was empty, apart from Tom and the plushie. He didn’t notice when you came in or when Michael left, just kept focusing on his task. Which was colouring very, very carefully a picture of Cinderella, the mice and a big pumpkin. He had his tongue between his teeth, his eyebrows furrowed and his whole body curled around the colouring sheet.

Without tearing your eyes from Tom, you took your phone out of your pocket and unlocked it with your fingerprint, pressing a few times the camera button to have proof of that day. You watched from the door as Tom stopped using the blue crayon and looked around for the next one, stopping with the orange half way to the paper when he finally noticed you.

It was hard to know if you could ever love someone as much as you loved that boy, who was in a children’s playroom colouring Cinderella with a huge Olaf by his side.

“I’m here to pick up my kid” you erupted into an awkward chuckle, barely containing the rest. Tom eyed you as you walked past the entrance and towards the small desk. “Seems like he is quite a baby still and has to hold always my hand”

“Well, maybe you ran off too quickly” Tom bit back, puffing out his cheeks and matching the whole childish place. You almost cooed. “I just stopped to throw something to the bin! Why did you leave me? I had – that man was super rude, Y/N. He treated me like some kind of toddler, he even offered me a juice box! And he left me here to wait for you – come on, this is like the paediatrician waiting room!”

“My poor baby” you kneeled besides him and cupped his cheek. Tom didn’t fight it, just trapped your hand between his shoulder and cheek.

You decided not to say anything about how Tom didn’t seem at all displeased colouring a children’s picture, or about the empty apple juice box on the opposite corner of the desk. Instead, you propped up on the edge of your feet and pressed your lips against his forehead. It wasn’t at all comfortable, but Tom wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer, until you were in between his legs. From your crouched position, you were slightly taller than him; that was how small the chair was.

You gave the draw a side glance, noticing that Tom had done quite a good job. Not only he looked pretty invested in it, but he was also doing his best. The boy hid his face on the crook of your neck and hug you tightly.

“Please, don’t leave me ever again” Tom whined.

“Next time we can use one of those backpacks with a leash” you joked, and you felt Tom scoffing on your neck.

He let you go and quickly rose up from his position, looking around blushing. He had left his black baseball cap somewhere, and his curls scattered everywhere only gave him a more childish look. Even if he didn’t look at you, Tom offered you a hand to pull you up and mumbled something unintelligible.

“I think we can miss the rest of the day” you said. “What do so say about trying the hotel spa, and romantic dinner somewhere?”

“But – we have yet to see the main castle” Tom frowned, kicking himself for not remembering sooner where you wanted to go. “It’s not that late, we still have a few hours until they close”

“And lose you again? I prefer having you in a closed up space” you chuckled.

“It isn’t funny” Tom picked up the Olaf and the bags and began walking to the exit. “I could have been one of those people who get lost and are never found. I didn’t have my phone, you left me completely alone!”

“And here I thought you were a responsible famous actor around the world” you jogged behind him, quickly linking your arm around his.

“Just so you know, that doesn’t mean I have to have the perfect orientation”

You let your smile grow as Tom whined about the horrible treatment he had received from the staff, and he even assured you that the juice box wasn’t even that good; that he only had it because he hadn’t had anything to drink. And you shared a look with the puzzle bag, where your two bottles of water were.

All considered, as you spent another long thirty minutes trying to find the car, walking around the parking lot and pointing the remote control to random cars, you decided it had been the best day so far. Proof of that, was the crumpled unfinished draw of Cinderella that you intended to hang in your room for a really long time.

Want to know more about me? Here is my Masterlist! Feedback is always appreciated!!

Tom Holland/ Peter Parker taglist:

@delicately-important-trash

@lexxxistrips

@smilexcaptainx

@aikaterrina

@zalladane

@gypsystuf (since you didn’t answer me, I just put you on the general taglist. Let me know if you want to change!)

@nikkixostan

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #disney world #peter parker #peter parker one shot #peter parker imagine #spiderman #peter parker x reader #spiderman one shot #spiderman imagine #avengers #avengers one shot #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #spiderman x reader #imaginemai #imaginesmai

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cha-lyn · 4 years ago

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Milk & Eggs - Fourteen

Farmer!Bucky x Reader

Words: 1998

Summary: Small Town /Farmer Bucky AU // Reader leaves the city to go live with her grandma. She meets an attractive farmer and, no, they don’t hit it off.

Warnings: fluff and some angst (maybe)

A/N: What a ride. This is the Final Chapter of Milk & Eggs. I truly appreciate the feedback. Really - if i didn’t know people were reading this I would’ve never finished it. Thank you, Thank you all. 💛 I have some other stuff in the works so don’t go too far 😏

Master List // Previous Chapter

- - -

You spend the rest of the day catching up and planning the week with Grams. You’d have your usual bakes this week, as well as the Henderson twins’ sweet sixteen birthday cake and scones for a housewife the town over who was hosting a tea party. Once it’s all been delegated, you and Grams sit on the back balcony of the apartment with mugs of tea.

You break the comfortable silence with what’s bothering you. “Grams. Do you think Bucky and I are moving too fast?”

She thinks for a moment before answering. “I don’t think it matters if you know how you feel about someone and they feel the same way. Your grandpa and I dated for three months before he proposed and we were married three weeks later. Some say we rushed into it, but we both knew what we felt and we were on the same page.” She stirs some more honey into her tea. You smile.

Your grandpa was a distant memory for you--he’d passed when you were still young, but you remembered some things about him. He’d been a rancher and had several horses. The memories you did have of him were fond. He’d take you out to do chores with him-and at that time they were fun and you were more than willing. He spoiled you with hot chocolate behind your mom’s back and taught you how to shoot a gun.

“Looking back I would’ve married him in half the time,” she laughs. “Why the sudden concern about how fast you’re going?”

“I made a joke. I said he should get a dog and I’d come over more and he was like ‘You over all the time, come over anymore and you’ll have to move in.’ And then I choked on my coffee and there’s awkward tense silence and then he says he's joking…” you sigh, looking at Grams for guidance. She just chuckles at you. “Don’t laugh, Grams. We had this weird tense talk on the way back about defining our relationship and if we know each other enough and me not being able to see the future--”

“You never have been one to plan ahead, dear,” Grams interrupts. She catches your questioning look. “It’s true. You’d climb a tree effortlessly for the view and then all but lose your mind trying to figure out how to get down. You did things by the seat of your pants. But you always figured it out. You moved here pretty spur of the moment too, come to think of it.”

You chew your lip, “Ugh. That’s your cryptic way of telling me….” You pause and look to her to finish the thought. She laughs and shrugs, “Maybe it’s okay to not have it planned out. You two seem to have a good balance of making each other happy and being honest with each other.”

You nod, but don’t respond.

—

The next evening there was a knock at 6:30 sharp. You shuffled down the stairs to meet Bucky, who was dressed in his nice jeans and a button up with a bouquet of lilies. Your favorite.

“Hey slick,” he grinned at the sight of you. “You look beautiful. Got these for you and Sue,” he says handing you the flowers.

You blush, “Thanks Buck. You look nice, too. Come on up.” You turn to lead him up the stairs, but he grabs your hand.

“Can we—can I just say something before we go up there?”

You nod, he sighs and runs a hand through his hair and you immediately think the worst.

“I really, really care about you. I’m sorry for how things went yesterday … I get what you mean about not seeing the future right now. When I was in the service, we lived day to day. We’d have plans and ideal outcomes, but then shit would happen and plans were just plans, so I get it. Nothing ever really goes as planned. I don’t need a label or a detailed plan for the future. I’m sorry I badgered you for one. I guess I just wanted you to know that I-I’m in this.” He waves his hand in between the two of you. “As fast or as slow as you wanna go, I’m in.”

Your heart thumps in your chest as his words sink in. You stand quietly for a minute, long enough for Bucky to start looking uncomfortable. “Bucky… I-”

“Oh hello James!” Grams’ voice calls down to the two of you. “You guys come on up, I’m taking the food out of the oven now.”

You see your out and start up the stairs, “Uh, Let’s go.”

Bucky sighs, defeatedly, but follows you up the stairs.

Dinner was delicious, the conversation was much less serious with Grams present. Bucky insisted on doing the clean up--he made Grams relax and almost didn’t even let you help. When the dishes were done and dried, the conversation meandered until Grams let out a big yawn and bid the two or you goodnight. The silence that followed was deafening.

No sooner than Grams had shut her bedroom door, Bucky turns and asks, “Can we pick up where we left off?” You swirl the wine in your glass and nod slowly, but don’t answer so Bucky continues. “I’m in this. Wherever you want this to go and however fast.” Another stretch of silence as the two of you lean against the counter tops, it's getting awkward. “Are you going to say anything?”

“Honestly, there was so much of that with Spencer and then it all blew up in my face. I’m … scared to make plans again-- to have those kind of feelings again just for them to be ruined.”

As you say it, it’s almost as if it replays in front of you. The initial swell of feelings when he touched you and kissed you. The late nights spent building imaginary houses and naming imaginary kids. But this time as the memories play back, they’re tainted. Soured with another memory, this one painful. You know Bucky isn't anything like Spencer, he’s proven that to you.

As if reading your mind, Bucky breaks through your fog, “I’m not him. You know that right?”

“Of course I know you're not him Buck-“ you sigh, planting your hands on your forehead. You had to make a choice and you know in your soul you can’t live with a life of what ifs. “So let’s do the damn thing.”

Bucky’s face broke into that blinding smile. “You sure?”

“I’m sure I’d regret it if we didn’t try,” you say raising your glass.

Bucky clinks his beer to your glass, before leaning over to kiss you on the top of the head. “Let’s do the damn thing.”

---

Two months later

“Slick, what should I pack for this trip?” You hear hangers sliding as he searches for clothing in his closet. “Slick? I need help.”

You sigh, putting down your book and sliding off the bed. “What do you mean? We already ordered your suit for the wedding.”

Bucky stands in his closet, shirtless in a pair of old grey sweats. “For all the other stuff we’re gonna do.”

You wrap your arms around his waist. “Jeans, maybe a few nicer shirts. A hoodie. Bring your bathing suit-- our AirBnB has a private hot tub.”

Bucky hums, “Seems like you’ve planned this whole trip down to the minute. Please show me the itinerary.’

“Nope! I got big plans and they are top secret confidential.”

Bucky turns to face you, hands firmly on your hips. “I bet I can get them out of you.” You cock your eyebrow. “I was in the military, I know torture.”

You throw your head back to laugh, but that was a mistake. Bucky starts assaulting your very ticklish neck with kisses. You try to push away but he has you in a vice grip.

“Oh. I didn’t know you were ticklish,” he deadpans. His fingers find your sides and though you squirm, you can’t get away.

“You can’t break me,” you choke out between laughs. Bucky doesn’t believe you--Hell you don’t even believe you--so he increases his attack, zeroing in on an armpit. “Ah-st-stop. I can’t breathe.”

Bucky stops immediately and you bolt out of the closet, “Liar!!” he shouts, following you out, laughing.

You’re trying to catch your breath as you sputter, “Finish packing. Please. We gotta get up early tomorrow to make it to the rehearsal on time.”

Bucky narrows his eyes, “This is a trap. But fine. I’ll leave you alone. All night. No snuggles, definitely no sex.”

You roll your eyes, “I know where the blankets are-- don’t you worry about me, worry about packing.” Bucky eyes you for so long you think he might attack again, but instead he turns back into the closet with a huff.

---

You and Bucky left the next morning for Seattle, the both of you giddy for a weekend away. Once you hit the city, Bucky lets you drive to the quaint AirBnB you chose for the trip. It was a cute little mother-in-law cottage on one of Seattle's surrounding islands and it was right on the water. Bucky was itching to know your super secret itinerary, but you wouldn’t budge on the surprise you had planned for him. You promised he’ll know more after the wedding.

The wedding was gorgeous. Brad and Aaron were both so handsome and their vows made you bawl your eyes out, which just made Bucky pull you closer and kiss the top of your head gently. Spencer was there, a plus one of a mutual friend, but he kept his distance from you and Bucky, so the night succeeded in being very romantic and relaxed. You spent most of it in Bucky’s arms on the dance floor, which is exactly where you wanted to be. He was the last person you thought would have dance skills, but again he surprises you by being quite nimble on his feet. He twirls and dips you until you're both dizzy and in a fit of giggles.

The next day, despite your busy late night, you and Bucky are up bright and early. Bucky was as excited as a kid at Six Flags, begging you to just break the surprise to him early. You refused of course- it was fun watching him squirm. Bucky questioned your every turn on your way to the surprise.

“So, where are we going?” he asks for the 30th time.

“Bucky. You will see when we get there,” you say smugly.

“I wanna know now.”

“It’s okay to want,” you retort.

Ten minutes later, you turn into the parking lot of Seattle Whale Watch tours. You look at Bucky, “We’re here.” Bucky’s eyes are wide.

“We’re going whale watching?” he blinks slowly. “How’d--you remembered? I said that forever ago!”

“Of course I remember Bucky. It was a dream of yours… I wanted to make it come true.”

Bucky just grinned. “You’re the best.”

Bucky’s practically leaning off the boat with the biggest grin ever on his face. It’s been a particularly busy day as whale traffic goes, so Bucky was elated to say the least. “This is amazing. Wow.” He turns to you. “Thank you, slick. I-That was better than I imagined.”

You grin, so pleased that he’s happy. “I’m glad you liked it.”

He pulled you to stand in between him and he railing, “I told you that you knew me,” Bucky said smugly in your ear.

You smile as you turn to face him, “You were right, Buck. But there is something about me that you don’t know.”

Bucky purses his lips, “Doubtful doll.”

You shrug, but continue anyway, “I love you.”

Bucky blinks. “Well shit. I did not know that.” Somehow, Bucky’s smile for you was brighter than it was for the whales and the sparkling blue of his eyes putting the ocean around him to shame. “I love you.”

- - -

Taglist: as always thank you guys for the feedback/love. It’s SO appreciated. 💛

@notatallfriendly @thechaoticargonaut @booktease21 @iamwarrenspeace @titty-teetee @harryngtonewithyourshit @mcueveryday @peakyrogers @thedepressedsponge @navegandoaciegas

@thefridgeismybestie

@basically-introverted

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myelocin · 4 years ago

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11:11 and we’re right where we need to be | captains

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*how your 11:11s are spent with: sawamura daichi, ushijima wakatoshi, bokuto koutarou, kuroo tetsurou, shinsuke kita, terushima yuuji, & oikawa tooru *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*click keep reading bc everyone else’s is posted fully :D

sawamura daichi: life as parents has never been too tough of a job for neither you or daichi considering your son had always been on the more mature side. the alarm clock that’s usually yelling at you to wake up is left without a schedule for the day so when the two of you are in that stage where you’re sort of awake, but too lazy to do anything about it—the numbers are flipping to 10:58. the curtains in your room are closed, but not enough so a little light is leaking from the window’s bottom right corner. even with the poor lighting in the room, it’s enough for you to trace the outline of daichi’s profile beside you. you know he’s awake because when you wrap one hand around his middle and squeeze the spot he’s ticklish at, a smile is quirking in the corner of his lips and he’s laughing at you to knock it off. you’re peeking at the clock that’s still showing 11:08 on the screen when you finally decide to sit up and stretch, poking daichi in the chest along with whispers of “get uuuupppp,” your voice a little hoarse from the lack of use. he groans and pulls you back down on top of his chest in time with his phone ringing signaling a call from suga. you’re laid back down and the clock on his phone changes to 11:11 just in time with your son’s face lighting up the screen. he’s waving at you with an ice cream cone carefully balanced in his other hand. daichi’s next to you still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes but he shoots a smile to the camera when your son starts talking about his day and how much fun he was having staying at his uncle suga’s house in the city for the weekend.

ushijima wakatoshi: you and your 6 year old daughter, asami, are waiting in the kitchen preparing lunch because the two of you are expecting him to be home early from practice that day. you’re standing next to her mixing the batter in the bowl while she’s standing on a chair next to you, holding the mixing bowl still while talking about the things her teacher made her class do in class the day before. asami is much like you, you realize because you recall your mother telling you stories from your childhood about how you always liked to tell her how your day in school went. the clock on the oven tells you it’s 11:11 when you hear the front door open then close, with wakatoshi’s voice booming his “Tadaima” in the background. your daughter is squealing and instantly leaping off the table, yelling her “Okaeri papa!” while she’s running to greet him at the door. you’re wiping your hands on your apron when you hear her yell out, “mama! come heeeeeeere!” from the living room. when you make your way to your husband and daughter, she’s sitting on the ground with holding the very same cat she’s been begging the two of you to get her ever since she saw it at the adoption center three weeks ago. you open your mouth to react but wakatoshi’s giving you a look that looks like it’s he’s stuck between an apology or a plead, so you sigh and smile. wakatoshi leans towards you to kiss your cheek and you tell him “tadaima,” with a look to tell him you’ll be speaking to him later. (though ultimately you decide to keep the cat because asami falls asleep that night with the cat snug between her arms. wakatoshi is teasingly telling you an “i told you so” and you can’t help but think that asami resembles her father in the way how the both of them have you completely wrapped between their fingers.)

bokuto koutarou: it’s a wednesday when your sister drops off your twin nephews at the apartment you and bokuto share because two days prior to today, he had gladly offered the both of your services to babysit your twin nephews for the day. you suppose it couldn’t have been too bad of an idea because the entire morning the three of them: bokuto, nephew a, and nephew b, have been doing nothing but run around and yell incoherent things as they took turns being lifted up by bokuto. you guessed it must have been close to lunch time when the three of them come in looking at you with a sheepish grin followed by an audible grumble of the stomach. nephew b decides it was time to let you know that his diaper was feeling a little full so as you see bokuto lift nephew a by the arms and quickly walk to the kitchen, you snort, close your book, and usher nephew b into the washroom to freshen up. by the time you’ve finished and walk into the kitchen with nephew b holding your hand, bokuto’s already looking at you with the smile he wears when he’s super proud of what he did. and you’re kind of smiling in a really fond way because what you see in front of you is the leftover cake akaashi brought the two of you last week with some extra candles he luckily found stuck on top. nephew a is waving over his twin brother so he can too, “blow out the candles uncle bokuto got for us.” you’re smiling along with the two of them, because in a way it’s kind of cute, so when you pull your phone out to record a little video of the two of them clapping along to bokuto singing “happy birthday” jokingly beside them—the digital watch on the notification bar changes to 11:11 right when the song finishes and they’re blowing out the candles. bokuto’s still smiling at you in the way that’s letting you know he’s super proud of his idea, but because you guess wishes during 11:11 were in order—his idea wasn’t so bad after all.

kuroo tetsurou: after your daughter heard that her papa had to be at work today and couldn’t make it to the tea party they’d been planning for a week now, it surprises you when she’s asking to bring him a bento box at work instead of sulking about the cancelled plan. she’s holding the bento box she helped you make tightly in her hands in the car ride on the way to tetsurou’s office, and she’s holding it with the same caution even as the two of you are riding the elevator and walking to his office. your wristwatch points to 11:11 so you decide it must be a safe time to open the door to his office after an okay signal from his assistant outside and a light knock to his door. he’s sitting in his office, his suit crisp and pressed perfectly and you could almost snort in laughter when you see the state of his hair ruffled back to its usual bedheaded state even though he gelled it to perfection earlier this morning. your daughter’s shrieking as she runs to greet him and promptly place the bento on his hands. tetsurou shoots you a wink and a smile when you tell him about how hard she worked on making the bento for him before he’s looking at her, his expression one of feigned shock as he says, “wow! my princess made this?? for me??” and you’re smiling along to their interaction because your daughter has stars in her eyes because her papa who she looks up to so so much is praising her for her hard work this morning. you don’t really think much of the time when your husband has her seated on his chair while he pulled out a stool to sit next to her letting her feed him the contents of the bento she proudly helped you make as he listens to her tell him about the dish. (you know that he knows it’s just egg but the way he’s nodding along to her explanation as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world has your heart feeling light, so you don’t comment.)

shinsuke kita: the weather outside isn’t too brutal that day and since the both of you practically enjoy the outdoors, kita decides to join you for harvesting some fruits that’s good and ripe from the garden in the backyard. he compliments you on the yellow sundress you chose to wear that day and you smile as you peck him on his cheek while saying your own compliments about how good he looks with the farmer’s tan he’s been getting. kita’s crouched down next to you, positioning himself in a way so that the sun isn’t beating down too hard on your face; he realizes you don’t really enjoy that because the last time it happened you were scrunching your nose and squeezing your eyes like it hurt a lot. when the sun isn’t bothering you as much, he’s back to back with you when the two of you are crouched over looking for the ripe strawberries to pick, and he’s telling you a story osamu told him when he visited him in the city the day before. you’re laughing along and a clock from inside the house clicks to 11:11 when the basket you have beside you is half full and you’re closing your eyes when a nice breeze floats in because you’re thinking about how nice this is. you don’t really keep track of the time because you’re outside and all that matters at the moment is how happy and smiling kita looks when he turns to face you and shoots you a smile as warm as the sun hitting your bare shoulders. he’s asking you “what should we make for lunch?” and you shrug telling him whatever he wants as long as you get to make your strawberry jam for later. it’s still 11:11 and you suppose that it would have been a little funny if you actually knew the time because at the right in that moment as kita belts out a laugh and kisses your cheek, you feel like all your wishes have manifested to real life in the form of your little garden by the house you share with the one you love the most.

terushima yuuji: he’s at work but you guessed he must be taking his lunch break a little earlier because when he calls and the digital clock tells you it’s only 11:11, you’re still seated in the living room clicking through different channels while yuuji is waving his hello at you while opening the bento box he brought with him to work. he’s telling you how good your cooking is while you’re only half paying attention to what he’s saying because his story is getting a little too scattered for you to actively pay attention to. though, you’re laughing when he starts to complain about this one client that came in and demanded to get his jet black hair to platinum blonde in a day with minimal damage. yuuji’s getting a little more animated, and because you love him and appreciate the stories he shares with you—you click off the tv and lay on the couch staring face to face with him from your phone as he continues to rant about a couple other “nightmare clients,” as he dubbed them. you’re looking at him stuffing his mouth full of the food you prepared for him and smiling because even though so many years have passed since your high school years, you’re elated to see him smile and look at life with the same positivity as he always had. a couple more piercings had been added to his face and his hair may be some shades lighter than how he kept it from before but he’s rolling his eyes and barking out laughter in the way that has you feeling like you’re listening to him rant about the team they played against that wasn’t all too much fun. when his coworker is calling for him to hurry up, you’re still smiling while lazily bidding him a goodbye wave because like in high school, he’s still giving you kissy faces along with enthusiastic waves as he shuts off the call.

oikawa tooru: in hindsight, iwaizumi was right—you should have left him at home when you went grocery shopping that day. the two of you are back in japan to visit some family and friends for the summer and while iwaizumi and the others had put the two of you on grocery run duty, you should have remembered how excited tooru is to buy all the food he missed while living in argentina. you’re walking next to him with your hands crossed while he’s steering the cart in the completely opposite direction of where all the things iwaizumi’s grocery list was located in. tooru’s laughing at you telling him to get the things first before stacking up on all the snacks you know he’s going to get but nods his head and lets you steer the cart anyway. you’re choosing between which watermelon to get when tooru’s on the phone next to you saying, “iwa-chan, (y/n) and i are almost done, can’t you just wait? it’s only 11:11 to early for lunch.” and when you plop the chosen watermelon in the basket, tooru is giving you a thumbs up after briefly inspecting the watermelon and then continuing to tell iwaizumi, “iwa-chan stop yelling, it’s 11:11 make a wish!” and you’re finally laughing along because you could already imagine the vein popping out on iwaizumi’s forehead on the other end of the line. tooru is walking next to you shooting you a smile every time he drops a familiar snack in the cart and tells you, “feels like we’re in high school again right?” while you smile at the sentiment of the memory and laugh, “yeah except we couldn’t afford to grab everything off the shelf so at least now we can thank your pro career for this.” tooru’s laughing along with you as the two of you walk down the familiar aisles you two frequented many years back. “so are you finally admitting you’re with me just for the money?” he jokes and you give an exaggerated “yes,” before pecking cheeks and continuing with, “i’m with you because you’re like the stray cat i can’t get to leave me alone but i ultimately end up loving anyway.” (you’re walking ahead of him and you can hear him feign a gasp behind you but you suppose banter like this is one of the many reasons why you’re with tooru in the first place.)

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iliketowrite1996 · 4 years ago

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The Nanny Chronicles part 1: Here for You

Disclaimer- I do not own any Marvel characters or their fictional worlds, countries, planets, etc.

OKAY, I haven’t written in a while and I am always open to constructive criticism.

‘’Akhona! Lindelwa! Let’s go, we’ve got to get you two to school on time!’’

‘’Coming!,’’ you hear the ten-year-old boy, Akohna, call down the stairs as you listen to him move about on the third floor of the home, gathering the necessary materials for another day of learning.

As you finish packing the lunches, you hear the rhythmic thump… thump… thump of Lindelwa, the six-year-old, coming down the stairs, sliding down each step while she holds onto the banister.

Akhona and Lindelwa are the son and daughter, respectively, of T’Challa Udaku. Right after you graduated college, you began applying for jobs. One of your friends, who is a nanny for Tony and Pepper Stark, told Mr. Udaku about you. A quick interview later, and you were in. While you do hope to move to a classroom and become an elementary teacher one day, this isn't so bad for now. The kids are pretty well behaved, the pay is good, and Mr. Udaku is a lovely person.

You fondly roll your eyes before zipping her plastic, zebra-print lunch box, making sure that all of its content- her rice, chicken, juice and fruit- are intact before you do.

‘’I’m ready!.’’ she enters the kitchen, beaming up at you, showcasing where she lost a tooth just last week.

‘’I see!.’’ you motion for her to lift her leg, allowing for you to tie her shoe before she straightens up, letting you observe her in her school clothes.

‘’Does daddy know you’re wearing those socks,’’ you glance down at the brightly colored socks, with cats printed all over them.

‘’Mhm!,’’ she looks proudly at her ensemble, before grinning back up at you.

‘’Well, if it’s alright with daddy, it’s alright with me,’’ you concede, handing the young girl her lunch box, ‘’Is your brother ready?’’

She nods enthusiastically, just as her brother rounds the corner into the kitchen.

‘’I’m ready to go,’’ he takes his lunch box from you, ‘’Are you taking us, or are we riding the bus?’’

‘’I can take you guys if you want, but we’ve got to get going. I’ve got to stop by the store anyway.’’

The two children follow you out of the house, waiting for you to lock up the house before the three of you head to the car.

As soon as you pull up to the elementary school, you turn and look at the two of them.

‘’Akhona, I’ll pick you up from soccer practice at 5:00 sharp. Be ready to go on time- your dad invited your grandparents over for dinner this evening.’’

‘’Alright,’’ he nods, unbuckling his seat belt, ‘’Is N’Jadaka going to be there too?’’

‘’I’m not sure,’’ you admit, ‘’We’ll see.’’

He gives you thumbs up, sliding out of your minivan.

‘’Lindelwa,’’ you turn to the first grader, ‘’You’ll be coming home with Wanda and Meghan today. Make sure you get your rain boots out of your cubby today, alright?’’

‘’Yes, ma’am,’’ she gives you a thumbs up before sliding out of the van, taking her brother’s hand as he guides her into the building, ready to take her to Ms. Stormy’s class.

As soon as the children are in the building,you pull away from the curb, heading to the grocery store.

Ever since moving to New York 3 and a half years ago, you have gotten used to the city. NYU has become your home away from home, in a sense,and you can’t imagine going to college anywhere else. Now that you’re a senior, you can say that you definitely feel a sense of familiarity with your surroundings. You have your favorite spots to go, and your spots where you take the children on their days off from school. Spending time at the park, the grocery store, and the laundromat is nothing new to you. You’ve come to think of this city as your home almost as much as you think of Texas, your home state, as home.

As you move up and down the aisles, collecting items for the week, you barely notice someone calling your name.

‘’I’ve been calling you since aisle six,’’ Wanda, your neighbor, speaks up, glazing up at the store sign that indicates that you are clearly in aisle ten.

‘’Girl,’’ I’m sorry you shrug, placing your shopping list back into your bag, ‘’I’ve been in my own little world.’’

‘’I can only imagine. I haven’t seen you around much lately,’’ she picks up a bag of sugar, surveying it for any tears before placing it in her shopping cart, ‘’And Pietro has been asking about you.’’

You roll your eyes fondly at the mention of her beloved twin brother Pietro. He, like you, attends NYU. While you finished obtaining a degree in education last semester, he is about to finish nursing school. You met Wanda when you were put together as roommates your freshman year, and Pietro and your friendship is a result of yours and Wanda’s.

Wanda, who had spent a semester at community college previously, was stuck deciding between law and education, finally deciding on the latter. Because of this, you two spent almost every semester in almost all of the time that you’ve spent in college. Now, she lives only three doors down from you in her shoebox apartment, sharing with Pietro like, like you live in your equally small apartment with your roommates- your cousin MJ and one of her friends, a girl who is a science major at NYU.

‘’Tell Pietro that I am equally flattered and horrified,’’ you joke, stooping to pick up a bag of flour, ‘’How is he, anyway?’’

‘’I hardly ever see him. He’s always studying at the library or out doing something for class,’’ she shrugs, ‘’Anyway, a few of us are getting together this weekend. Some of the people from our program, Pietro and some of his buddies. We’re hanging out at the apartment.’’

‘’Oh, I’d better make sure I don’t work Saturday but I should be up for it, ‘’ you respond, running through your schedule in your head.

‘’Come on! I know you’re busy, but we haven’t seen you, except for in passing, in months!.’’

‘’Okay, okay,’’ you laugh, ‘’I promise that I’ll try to make it, Wanda. Bye..’’

With a final ‘’Good-bye’’, she walks away, heading for the checkout and leaving you to finish grocery shopping on your own.

Ever since you started nannying for Lindelwa and Akhona, you haven’t had much of a social life. You take care of them five days a week, and usually spend the weekends catching up on errands and relaxing. On the off chance that BOTH of their parents work on Saturday, you’re with them even more than you usually are. It would be nice to spend some time with your friends, take your mind off of all of your responsibilities for once.

This thought resurfaces as you arrive back at the Udaku residence, and are putting the groceries away. It stays with you until a deep voice brings you out of your own train of thought, snapping you back to the moment.

It’s none other than T’Challa Udaku, your boss, standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

‘’Oh. Good morning, Mr. Udaku. I didn’t know you’d be home early.’’

‘’Good morning to you, too. I just stopped by to get some papers that I left on my desk this morning. Thank you for being so willing to come in early this morning. I’ve got a big court trial coming up, and I desperately needed to be there early this morning to go over things with my partner.’’

,‘’It’s fine,’’ you shrug tucking a freshly done rbeaid behind your ear, ‘’I mean, this is my job.’’

‘’Be that as it may, you do a fantastic job of it. The kids love you,’’’ he grins, and you’d be a liar if you said that his smile didn’t make butterflies come to your stomach.

Mr. Udaku is attractive, that’s for sure. He’s about ten years your senior, but he’s a handsome man. Not that you’d ever say that to him. It’d be very unprofessional, and one hundred percent embarrassing, in your eyes.

Still, you see nothing wrong with silently admiring his good looks while you’re in a conversation with him.

‘’Well, thank you. I love them, too,’’ you comment sincerely., ‘’I got what you need for dinner tonight- everything for the scampi, salads, and bread rolls. Did you want me to go ahead and get started? The starks family will drop Lindelwa off, and I can pick Akhona up from the school when he’s done with soccer practice.’’

‘’Since it is on my way home, I will get him. I really appreciate you doing this. Lindelwa has been raving about your chicken scampi ever since you made it that night you stayed over with them, Will you be joining us for dinner?’’

It’s nothing, and you know it., He is simply extending kindness. However, you’d be remiss not to note the fact that it makes heat rush to your cheeks, and you’re a bit eager to accept it.

‘’I think I could swing that,’’ you nod, mentally nothing to add more pieces of chicken to the dish.

‘’Great. Please set eight spots as.’’

‘’Oh, is N’Jadaka joining us tonight?’’

‘’No, but my partner will. I’d better get going to the office. I’ll see you later on tonight.’’’ ‘

‘’Okay, Mr. Udaku. See you then.’’

He gives one last grin before exiting, and you wait until you hear the door close behind him before you smile to yourself.

Okay, so you’re not expecting it to go anywhere. But if you’re gonna have a crush, is he really so bad to have a crush on? And it’s all simple, all innocent, and none of it going anywhere. Little do you know, a series of events is about to unfold that will test your relationship,with T’Challa, so to speak.

And this invitation to dinner is only the beginning.

@ashanti-notthesinger @destinio1 @afraiddreamingandloving @airis-paris14 @syreanne @chaneajoyyy @90sinspiredgirl @shemiahsmelanin @zillmonger @skysynclair19 @marvelpotterlove @constantlycravingtheunknown @imaginewhoever @wakanda-inspired @pocmarvelworks @theunsweetenedtruth @dreampovx @adrioola21 @supremethunda @thisiskayesworld @mcusocialimagines @priya212 @kumkaniudaku @airis-paris14 @alexundefined @fonville-designs @dramaqueenamby @mellowjellow6 @oceanscorazon @nerd-lovely @fonville-designs @akimi-youngblood @yoyolovesbucky @fd-writes @areubeingserved-too @areubeingserved @thisbrokencapulet@squeackygee @melidris1 @honeydew-melanin

DISCLAIMER- I own no rights to any Marvel characters, countries, galaxies, planets, etc.

#t'challa fanfiction #T'Challa Udaku #t'challa fluff #t'challa udaku imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel x reader #black panther marvel imagine series #Marvel Imagine series #marvel imagines #t'challa x reader #t'challa x reader insert

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pokeasleepingsmaug · 4 years ago

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Agrotera

Based off this post . I also started a companion piece to it about Apollo doing music therapy with the girls and his redemption arc for all his problematic rapey actions in the past, so I can post that too if you’re interested.

Artemis doesn’t quite remember when Apollo traded his golden bow for something smaller, sleeker, easier to conceal and faster to fire, but she’ll never get used to the gleam of the pistol at his hip, and she’ll never relinquish her prized silver bow. She worked too hard to perfect her skill with it over the long millenia, brought down too many enemies with it, and cried out in a hunter’s triumph when her arrows struck true. She still uses the hand-draw technique like the archers of old, eschews the use of a quiver because they’re clumsy and slow her down when she’s in pursuit. Easier to hold her arrows in the hand that holds the bowstring.

Archery is an art that’s been lost over time to cheap trick-shots and Hollywood inaccuracies. But she’s a goddess and a huntress, and the tense snap of a bowstring sounds like poetry as she sends an arrow singing through the air. Maybe Apollo’s right and she has a dramatic flair, but she thinks that’s pretty rich coming from the guy who shot plague-arrows into half the Greek army during the final year of the Trojan War. If she ignores the fact that she once ripped a man to shreds with his own hounds, she can believe that Apollo is, in fact, the more dramatic twin.

The drama queen in question leans against the wrought-iron rail of their third-story apartment’s balcony, pistol gleaming at his hip as he takes another drag from his cigarette. “You can’t save them all, Art,” he tells her on an exhale, and she wrinkles her nose and waves the smoke away. She isn’t worried about the health risks, sometimes even wishes she could die, but the smell is another matter entirely.

“I could if you helped me,” she tells him, an edge of steel in her voice, and he sighs and rolls his jaw.

“Fine. The next time you hunt.”

She’s spent centuries with Apollo and knows when he’s only giving in because he’s tired of arguing, but she’ll take the win because she can’t stand to lose. “You have to take your bow.”

Apollo looks at her with one perfect eyebrow raised. She nods. “I was going to take it anyway,” he snaps. She doesn’t bother to hide her grin. He stubs his cigarette out against the railing and shoves past her through the sliding glass door, muttering as he stalks down the hallway to his room. They have rooms more as a matter of principle, since neither of them need to sleep. Both of them choose to, sometimes. It breaks up some of the tedium of immortality.

Artemis takes her twin’s spot at the railing, looks pensively at the sun rising above the city skyline. It seems distant today, the pinks and oranges less vibrant than normal. Apollo does this sometimes to show his annoyance, and still has the nerve to accuse her of being dramatic? He practically invented the concept.

…

Artemis has always been most comfortable in the dark, but it’s been decades--or has it been centuries?--since the goddess of night skies and deep woods danced in moonlight filtering through leaves. City streets are her haunt now, hunting monsters of a different kind in the glow of street lamps and neon signs that dull the once-magnificent night sky into something mundane.

She misses the time when mortals thought there was magic in the night and in the forest, when they used to pour unwatered wine and sing hymns to her, full of awe and fear. She was powerful once, adored. She isn’t either of those things anymore, but somehow she feels stronger than ever. More purposeful.

She’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, faintly gleaming silver bow and a pile of pale ash arrows resting on the floor at her feet. “Apollo,” she calls, half-annoyed. “We’re hunting for prey, not lovers.”

“I can’t find my bow.” His voice carries, muffled, from inside the apartment.

“It’s in the hall closet, hanging on the wall. Right next to the door.”

“I’m looking in the hall closet!”

“Apollo. Your bow is bright gold. It glows, for Christ’s sake,” Artemis mutters. She paces down the hall, about to show Apollo exactly where his bow is, when he emerges from the closet with a triumphant shout.

“I’ll tell Zeus you said that. Hey, can I borrow some arrows?”

“Oh my God,” Artemis groans, wondering if he just loves to torture her. “How are you even alive?”

“Probably because I’m immortal. So, arrows?”

“Fine. They’re more for show, anyway.” She stoops to scoop up her bow and a handful of arrows, leaving about half for Apollo.

“For show?” He questions, letting his eyes rove over his twin. She’s dressed all in black: black skinny jeans that hug her athletic legs and a black tank top beneath an unzipped black leather jacket. Her revealed skin is pale and gleams faintly silver, thick black eyeliner ringing her eyes, her lips the color of fresh blood. She reminds him of a panther in the breathless moment before a pounce.

“Also, you can’t wear that. All black everything.” Artemis glares scornfully at his yellow t-shirt.

“I don’t own anything black,” Apollo tells her matter-of-factly, smiling at her shocked face. “I’m a sun god, Art, not some weird emo moon goddess.”

“I wouldn’t say that around Selene.”

“Selene loves me.”

“Selene tolerates you,” Artemis informs him, ignoring the offended noise he makes. She decides to let Apollo’s questionable wardrobe choices slide this time. She supposes he looks intimidating enough to accompany her, with his artfully messy hair, bright blue eyes, and the faint golden glow of his skin. At the very least he looks not quite human, and that’s probably the best she’ll get from him. Maybe they can do a good cop, bad cop routine or something. They’ve been doing that for centuries anyway, they’ve pretty much perfected it. She whistles once, a short, sharp burst, and her black-and-tan hound rockets off the couch. She reaches an affectionate hand down to scratch his long velvet ears.

“Do we have to take him? He’s not, you know, inconspicuous.”

“Aristo has been with me on every hunt since Pan gave him to me!” Artemis scoffs, more offended than ever. The old satyr gave her six dogs and seven bitches back when the world was still new. She still has the entire pack, but Aristo is the only one who comes into the city with her.

“Where are the rest?” Apollo asks absently as he locks the door behind him.

“With Hecate.”

The twin gods head out into the city, walking down the sidewalk like any ordinary mortals might, and turn toward the college campus. Frat houses are usually a good hunting spot. Artemis pauses to smile up at the moon. Selene has it shining its very brightest for her tonight, a hunter’s moon perfectly round and low in the sky. Aristo trots happily at her side, Apollo has been quiet for probably three whole minutes, and she dares to hope, briefly, that she won’t need to hunt tonight.

Apollo grins as they turn down a street, following a stream of girls in tight dresses hobbling in too-tall heels, and Artemis smacks his arm hard enough to earn a disgruntled yelp. “You’re disgusting.”

“I look at guys the same way,” he reminds her with a shrug.

“That doesn’t make it better,” she snaps, beginning to regret bringing him along, but the thought is interrupted by Aristo whining low and urgent in his throat. He bays, giving voice to his full-throated hunting song, and she follows the hound as he tears across the frat house lawn, partygoers stumbling out of his way. Artemis runs after him like she’s just an ordinary girl chasing her escaped dog.

Apollo curses behind her as he starts running. Aristo waits for them at the front door of the house, still singing, and his claws leave deep gouges in the dark wood as he paws insistently at the door. Artemis shoves it open and follows him immediately up the stairs. He reaches the landing and skids around a corner, baying as he stops in front of a closed door.

It’s locked but Artemis kicks it open with a crack of hinges sudden as a lightning strike. What good is a door against a god? She sees the boy first, the harsh moonlight streaming through the open window turning his eyes to black pits and deepening the shadows under his cheekbones. He reminds her for an instant of the type of monster she hunted in days long gone. He’s frozen in place as the door bangs against the wall, so stunned he doesn’t even notice the seventy pound dog hurtling toward him until Aristo hits him like a howling torpedo. His arms windmill as he topples out of sight.

Artemis walks around the bed, lazy and graceful, following the sound of yelling and growling, of sharp gnashing teeth waiting for her command to sink into frail mortal flesh. She finds Aristo pinning the thrashing boy to the carpeted floor with his front paws on his shoulders. “Call off your dog! Please! Get him off me!” The voice is high and hysterical with mortal fear, and Artemis smiles down at him indulgently.

“I am Artemis Agrotera, and I will deal with you another time.” She calls Aristo off with a sharp whistle. The boy scrambles to his feet, crashing back to the floor as his shoulder collides with Apollo’s thighs. Apollo reaches down and draws him up by the arm, smiling with a menace that can’t quite match his twin’s.

“We’ll be seeing you,” he promises silkily, gives the arm a gentle squeeze, and stands aside to let the trembling criminal pass. Artemis sinks down on the edge of the rumpled bed, wipes tears from the girl’s cheeks with her thumb, and drapes her black jacket over the bare, shaking shoulders. The girl sobs and pulls the jacket tighter. Artemis makes a shushing noise in her throat and stands, scooping her up bridal-style like she weighs nothing at all.

The girl hides her face against the goddess’s chest as they leave the house. Fear and guilt war in her, eating her alive with teeth that slice like knives because she knows what will happen. The police will ask her how much she drank and what she was wearing and if she was flirting with him, if she’d given him any indication that maybe she wanted this. The thought turns her stomach, but they’re outside in the cool night air and the moon is so bright it seems to shine just for her.

Artemis looks down at the girl in her arms, and her heart breaks into a thousand pieces for the first time that night. “I’m taking you to someone who can help.” The walk back to the apartment building is about ten minutes, but the silence and the shaking girl make it seem like eternities. When they arrive, Artemis fumbles her car keys from the pocket of her black skinny jeans and hits the unlock button. “Do you want to sit in the front with me, or in the back with the dog?”

The girl’s wide brown eyes flit between Artemis’s perfect moon-pale face and Aristo’s floppy ears and kind brown eyes. “The dog, please.”

“His name is Aristo.” Artemis says, setting the girl on her feet and opening the back door for her. Aristo leaps in, tail wagging, and the mortal girl slides into the seat beside him. “He loves hugs.”

“Aristo,” the girl murmurs, burying her face in his neck with a shaky breath. “My name is Laurel.” Artemis’s stomach clenches. Apollo looks like he might be ill as he climbs into the passenger seat. He knows where the first laurel tree still grows, nearly as old as the surrounding hills.

Artemis starts the car and within minutes they’re speeding out of the city, turning off the highway onto winding back roads, and she rolls all the windows down to feel the wind in her hair and focuses on that to still the angry shaking of her hands. “Hey Art, does Hecate know we’re coming?” Apollo asks as they turn up the long dirt driveway, past a sign that says Crossroads Farm in fading purple paint.

“She always knows.”

Sure enough, the front porch light is on and lights are shining through the front windows. “We’re here,” Artemis announces for Laurel’s benefit as she parks.

“Where are we?” Laurel’s voice fills with fear. Artemis’s heart shatters into a thousand pieces, for what must be the thousandth time tonight.

“Crossroads Farm,” Artemis tells her, voice gentler than Apollo’s ever heard it. “You’ll be safe, I promise.”

“Who are you?” Laurel looks at them with wide, suspicious eyes and hugs hard enough around Aristo’s neck that he whines.

“Artemis, and this is my brother, Apollo.” Artemis waves her hand vaguely in the direction of her brother’s faintly shining face and ridiculous yellow t-shirt. They aren’t so ancient that their names are completely unfamiliar, because Artemis can see recognition stirring in Laurel’s fearful brown eyes.

“Like the ancient Greeks?”

Apollo nods. “Something like that. Come on, you’ll like Hecate.”

Before Artemis can stop him, he reaches toward Laurel’s hand to guide her up the steps. The mortal recoils from him, and Apollo looks so heartbroken Artemis almost pities him. She reminds herself he doesn’t know any better yet--he’s never spent time with a girl like Laurel before. He doesn’t understand the panic in her veins, the constant nagging fear she’ll carry with her for the rest of her life. He’s never heard a girl wake screaming from a nightmare she can’t stop reliving every time she closes her eyes.

“Shouldn’t we go to the police station?” Laurel asks, but she follows Artemis up the front porch steps anyway. Apollo walks a respectful distance behind her, half-dejected and half-protective, but completely silent. When Artemis opens the door, Hecate is already sitting at the scrubbed pine table with four steaming mugs of tea, the picture of serenity.

Hecate was called Iphigenia once, and she was the first mortal Artemis rescued; led to a gleaming sacrificial knife by a man who was supposed to protect her. She understands, in a way Artemis will never be able to, the fear and the guilt and the panic that feels like it can stop your lungs from filling. “Hi,” Hecate says simply, gesturing at the mugs. Laurel takes the empty seat beside her, and Artemis pointedly sits in the chair beside Laurel. Apollo huffs as he takes the seat furthest from her. “It’s herbal tea,” Hecate says, answering the girl’s unspoken question. “It will help you sleep without dreams.”

Laurel nods, wraps her hands around the warm ceramic mug and inhales deeply. “It smells good.” She hesitates, her eyes dancing over the three deities. “Are--are you really Greek gods?”

Artemis is proud of Apollo, for once, for the way he doesn’t let his face fall. She knows there’s nothing like a tragedy to unravel a mortal’s world; she’s seen it more times than she cares to remember and yet she can’t forget any of them. If something like this can happen--stories that happen on the evening news, to other people--then stories older than street lamps and cars can happen, too.

“Yes.” Artemis has found, through trial and error, through centuries, that simplicity works best.

“Artemis is the protector of young girls,” Apollo says, like that explains everything. “She’s been doing this--geez, for how long, Art?” He’s trying too hard to act casual, but Artemis can see he’s shaken. It takes some getting used to; this is only his first time and she has literal millenia of practice. She takes a deep breath and reminds herself to be patient.

“Since mortals stopped protecting their own daughters. When police began asking a girl what she was wearing, instead of asking a boy why he felt he had the right to take her sense of safety away.”

“Right. That long.”

“I was the first she saved,” Hecate volunteers conversationally. “Back when Troy still stood tall on its hill.”

“That clears things up,” Apollo mutters, rolling his eyes conspiratorially at Laurel. She rewards him with a tiny smile, and Artemis is half-surprised he doesn’t jump up and dance. He only grins, and she knows he’ll take whatever victory he can get even if it doesn’t feel like enough. A smile from Laurel won’t erase his past mistakes.

“It should clear things up, you were there,” Artemis reminds him. “You built the walls of Troy with your own hands.”

“Yeah, look how well that worked out.” Apollo pouts into his tea, unable to let go of that centuries-old sting. “Fucking Eris and her fucking apple.”

Artemis raises an eyebrow. “That was literally ages ago. We have other problems now.” Apollo follows her gaze as it rests on Laurel, sipping her tea and watching them with open fascination.

“How is this even my life?” Laurel wonders aloud.

Apollo shrugs, apparently having recovered from his earlier unease. “You’re just lucky, I guess.” The joke falls flat, he hisses in a breath and scrambles to fix his mistake. “Sorry, Jesus, I’m so sorry.” Tea sloshes over the side of his mug as he sets it down carelessly and reaches across the table for Laurel’s hand. She withdraws it and stares flatly into the contents of her mug.

Apollo’s face is crestfallen as he looks to Artemis for guidance, and she’s amazed that a god can be so painfully dumb. “Smooth,” she barks, patience momentarily snapped. Aristo rests his head on Laurel’s lap, much more comforting than Apollo could ever be, and she strokes him silently.

“Laurel,” Apollo begins, but she cuts him off with a shake of the head.

“It’s fine. Can-can I stay here tonight?” Her eyes are wide and wary as she turns to Hecate.

“Of course. I’ll show you to your room.” The gentle goddess stands, leading the exhausted mortal down the hallway to the left of the kitchen, through the living room, and toward the bedrooms in the back. They’ve done this too many times since Hecate bought this place a couple decades ago; there’s a dozen bedrooms here reserved for the girls Artemis brings. Sometimes they only stay for one night, sometimes for a week, sometimes they’ll leave and show up again unannounced months later, dark circles under their eyes and a constant tension in their shoulders.

Hecate never turns them away, only cooks them meals with the vegetables from her garden and gives them tea to help them sleep. They spend their days outside, reading in the sunlight or roaming with Artemis and her dogs, wearing loose chitons and carrying bows. There’s two other girls here besides Laurel; Kate, the girl Artemis helped last night, and Andrea, who showed up here a week ago and cried in Hecate’s arms again.

“Artemis,” Hecate calls down the hall, interrupting her thoughts, “can Aristo sleep with Laurel tonight?”

Artemis hates to relinquish her hunting partner, but he looks up at her with soft eyes, and she knows he would rather spend the night cuddling with Laurel than chasing her attacker. “Make sure Pelea has the scent,” she tells the dog. He wags his tail once in agreement and pushes through the doggy door to find Pelea. “He’ll be there soon,” Artemis calls back.

She and Apollo sit in silence, Apollo fidgeting with his empty mug as Artemis waits for her dogs. They’re only gone for a few minutes, Aristo trotting in with Pelea on his heels. He bumps his snout against his mistress’s hand as he trots by. Pelea rests her head on Artemis’s lap, tail wagging as Artemis scratches her ears.

A few minutes later Hecate glides into the kitchen on silent feet and sighs as she sits at the head of the table. “She’s settled in with Aristo. When are you guys going?” Artemis ducks her head to look out the window, squints up at the huge, bright hunter’s moon, and looks over at her brother.

“Ready for part two?”

“What’s part two?” His voice is apprehensive, and Artemis thinks it’s hilarious. She likes that she can still surprise him even after millenia.

She smiles wolfishly as she stands and stretches, slow and lazy. “The hunt.”

“Oh. I was wondering why you went by Agrotera earlier.” It’s an epithet he hadn’t heard her use in at least a few centuries, but it was one of the earliest used to describe her. Artemis Agrotera. Artemis of the Hunt.

She rolls her eyes so hard, she can practically see the back of her own skull. “Don’t tell me you still go by Phoebus.”

He shakes his head, looking away. “I stopped using my epithets a long time ago.”

Artemis steps forward and grips his chin, forcing him to face her. She hates the shame she sees there, but she knows it’s been a long time coming. “Apollo Akesios,” she says softly, firmly. “Averter of evil.” Sometimes even gods need to be reminded who they are.

“I don’t deserve that one. Maybe I never did.” His voice is low and full of sadness, but Artemis isn’t about to let him get away with wallowing. Self-loathing isn’t becoming for the god of the sun.

“Then earn it now. I don’t have time for your pity-party, Apollo, I have hunting to do. You can either hang out here and mope over Laurel--and we both know it isn’t really about her, anyway--or you can help me catch the asshole who did this.” She releases his chin; he rubs his jaw ruefully. Her grip had slowly tightened the more worked up she became.

“Fine, Art, geez. But tomorrow I’m going to Greece.”

“Tell Daphne if she ever wants to be human again, she has a place here,” Hecate interjects from the table. Apollo waves a hand in acknowledgement, trying to ignore the way his stomach drops at the name. He’s barely finished composing himself by the time Artemis is halfway out the door, and he starts after her with a muttered curse. They slide into her silver car, and he doesn’t have time to buckle his seatbelt before she’s peeling down the driveway.

“You can help me with this anytime you want, you know,” Artemis tells him, voice raised to be heard over the wind roaring through the windows. She’s tired of seeing her brother so lost, so far removed from the god he once was. They all are, except maybe Hades, because there will always be death. But hunting like this, protecting young girls like she used to, it reminds Artemis of who she is. She wants this feeling for her brother, too, because she loves him dearer than all the world of mortals.

“I’m not much of a hunter, Art.”

“No, but you invented medicine. You’re a healer. These girls, they need someone. Hecate does what she can, but sometimes it isn’t enough. Sometimes it takes more than herbal tea and an essential oil diffuser. For some of them, positive energy and sunlight doesn’t cut it. Hecate’s a minor goddess, but you? God of the sun, remember? Inventor of medicine and music and poetry. And Selene, she makes the moon shine brighter for them so they’re never caught out in the dark, but you can teach them to carry sunlight in their hearts again. You don’t have to hunt with me, after tonight. But when you get back from Greece,” she shrugs, “there’s a purpose for you, if you want it.”

Apollo doesn’t have to answer, because Pelea barks suddenly from the backseat. Artemis barely checks her blind spot as she pulls over, parking so quickly she scrapes her tire against the curb. She jumps out of the car and opens the back door for Pelea. Apollo unfolds himself from his seat and jogs alongside Artemis, following the hound.

“When did you train your dogs to do this?” He wonders idly, not expecting an answer.

“A couple hundred years ago, maybe? Around the time Ivar the Boneless invaded Ireland.”

“That was over a thousand years ago, Art.” He looks at her, bemused, knowing she doesn’t care about the specifics. It’s important to him, though. They’ve never kept secrets from each other, and this stings more than he wants to admit. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“You and Hermes sort of disappeared for a century or so, I didn’t want to bother you.” Apollo tries to remember this specific disappearance, thinks maybe it was when he and Hermes hung out with Calypso on her island for a while. It’s nice to leave the world sometimes. Pelea trots easily in front of them, scenting the cool breeze, and the moon is huge and high in the sky. It’s barely past the middle of the night.

“Where’s she taking us?” Apollo grumbles. Artemis, ever the patient hunter, smiles serenely at him and doesn’t grace him with an answer. Pelea’s tail wags in slow arcs. Artemis knows they’re getting closer but she enjoys the pursuit. She hopes the boy is laying in his bed, unable to sleep, feeling in his cowardly bones that vengeance is coming to him. She wants to hope he feels guilty but knows he probably doesn’t, so the most she ever hopes for is fear.

Pelea bays, just once, the sound that used to be the death-song of so many stags, and Artemis hopes the boy shivers at the sound. She sees him in the distance, a shadow against the horizon, a dark shape moving between houses. Pelea takes off after him eagerly, Artemis and Apollo hot on her heels. Pelea veers around to cut off his escape as the twins reach him.

Artemis reaches out, a pale arrow clasped in her hand, and rubs the shining silver point down the length of his spine. “I told you I would find you,” she croons, sing-song as a baying hound.

He stops dead in his tracks so suddenly that Apollo nearly crashes into him. Artemis strokes the arrow down the boy’s back again. She rubs her hand almost seductively along the back of his neck, leans closer, and whispers in his ear, “Turn around and face me.” She releases her hold, lets the arrowhead drag along his shoulder and chest as he obeys her. She tickles him lightly with the tip, just above the place where his heart beats so hard she can see the pulse throbbing in his neck. “Do you remember my name?”

He nods frantically, too terrified to speak. A sharp smell reaches her nose, she glances down to the spreading stain on the front of his jeans and clucks disapprovingly. “What was my name, again?” She drags the arrow up to the wildly thudding pulse at the juncture of his chin and neck.

“Art--Artemis A--Agro….” he trails off, she increases the pressure until he starts bawling. “Agrotera,” he chokes. She nods, pleased, and eases back just a bit.

“I’m not going to kill you,” she purrs, arrow still pressed against his throat. “This time. A quick death is too merciful for men like you.” She sighs, as if she regrets that. “In Sparta, where they worshipped me centuries ago, they gave all their women small knives. That way, if a man ever tried to force himself upon her, she could slash him across the face and the entire world would know what he did. That was a good time for women, when they didn’t need me to protect them.” She stares him down with eerie, unblinking silver eyes. “Do you know her name? The girl you attacked?”

He shakes his head, and Artemis gently traces the tip of the arrowhead along his jawline. “Her name is Laurel. She’s twenty years old and has a little brother, and she’s studying biology in college. She wants to be a cancer researcher, and travel the world, and she always loved the night until you made her afraid of it.” Artemis pauses, gives him a soft smile. “So now I want you to be afraid of it, too. I think they had it right in Sparta, all that time ago.”

Quick as thought, she darts the arrow up and slices along his cheekbone. The slash is clean, surgically precise, and will heal in a narrow, smooth pink scar. It’s high enough up that a beard will never hide it. “That custom is long dead, more’s the pity.” She shrugs, twirls the arrow so that it flashes in the moonlight, and tastes the dark blood on the silver arrowhead with the tip of her tongue. “Coward’s blood, I knew it. No descendent of Sparta.” She brings the arrow up again and runs it down the slope of his nose. “No one will know why there’s a slash on your face except you. Every time you look in the mirror, you’ll remember what you did. That is my first gift to you.”

She smiles, as if he’s just won the grand prize on a game show. There’s something feral in her eyes, a wildness mortals thought dead long ago. The boy is shaking uncontrollably. A first gift implies a second, and he doesn’t want anything except for this to be a dream. “So my first gift was knowledge, and my second is a promise.” She looks at him like she’s waiting for him to thank her.

When he’s silent, she shrugs and continues. She inspects the arrow as she speaks, not looking at him. He doesn’t deserve the attention of her gaze. “I promise that I will be watching you until the day you die. I promise that if you ever do this again, if you ever raise your hand to a woman, I will be the last thing you see.”

She reaches down, scratches Pelea’s ears affectionately. “This is Pelea. The dog I had with me earlier was Aristo. They’ve been alive longer than this country.” She gestures vaguely with the arrow; he instinctively raises his arms to protect his face. Artemis tries to hide the savage pleasure this brings her, but can’t quite keep the triumph from her ice-cold eyes. “They were given to me by Pan, the god of shepherds and wild places. Did you know he invented panic?” She tilts her head thoughtfully. “I perfected it, though.” The moonlight gleams off her perfect white teeth as she smiles.

“Once they have your scent, they can find you anywhere in the world. There is nowhere you can hide, nowhere my hounds cannot find you.” Her voice is mild, almost pleasant, and it makes the boy sob with a terror that’s older than instinct. Centuries ago, humans feared the gods; that fear is buried just beneath the surface of their conscious minds. It’s nearly effortless for Artemis to awaken it. “Do you understand me, mortal?”

He nods rapidly.

Artemis smiles and steps back. “Good. You may go now.”

She turns on her heel, crisp as a soldier on parade, and walks gracefully toward the car with Pelea roaming ahead to sniff a tree trunk. Apollo glances at the boy, takes in the abject terror and awe on his face as he watches Artemis walk away, and gives the boy a smile that could be mistaken for friendly before he follows his sister. The walk is quiet, with only the swishing of their feet through dew-damp grass and Pelea’s deep whuffs as she scents the air. Artemis opens the back door and the hound leaps in happily.

The twins climb into their seats and buckle their seatbelts, and Artemis drives them out of the city back toward Hecate’s farm. “Can’t you take me back to the apartment?” Apollo whines, not sure if he can face those girls when he can still remember Daphne morphing into a laurel tree to escape his touch.

“I like to be there when they wake up. Someday, you will, too.”

“After Greece, maybe.”

“You’ve waited too long to apologize.”

“I waited too long to learn my mistakes,” Apollo corrects.

She smiles over at him, full of pride. “I knew you would, though. I hoped it would be centuries ago, but better late than never.” She shrugs, like a few centuries isn’t a big deal when you can never die. “If I’d known hunting was what would make you realize, I would have taken you with me a long time ago.”

“Art, that was…. He looked at you like they all used to look at us. You were terrifying. I haven’t seen you like that in thousands of years. Agrotera, indeed.”

She smiles, pleased. “Mortals haven’t changed much, really.” She turns up the long dirt driveway of Crossroads Farm. Hecate left the porch light on for them, but the windows are dark this time. Artemis puts the car in park and kills the engine before she turns in her seat and fixes her bright silver eyes on him. “So will you be here in the morning?”

She’s really asking if he wants to see Laurel again, and Apollo knows it. And he does want to, but he can’t. Not yet. First he needs to see a different laurel, a tree nearly as old as the hills and twice as wise.

He shakes his head. “I’ll be in Greece at first light. Tell Laurel,” he blows out a breath between pursed lips. “Tell her I’ll be back by dinner.”

“I’ll tell her, if she asks,” Artemis promises, knowing she probably won’t. She hopes Apollo doesn’t pick up on that, but his face falls before he can stop it. She’s spent millenia reading his emotions, and her heart breaks into a thousand pieces for what must be the millionth time that night. She draws her twin into a hug. “Good luck, Apollo Akesios.”

He wraps his arms around her. “I promise I won’t disappear for a century this time. This is my place now, just like yours.” He ends the hug and straightens, brows pinched together in the middle. “Should we end the lease on the apartment?”

“No. That’s my base of operations in the city. I just let you crash there because you were a broke street musician.”

Apollo huffs, offended. “Not anymore, though. I’ll see you tomorrow, Art.” He sighs and rolls his jaw. Artemis nods and opens the car door. When she reaches the porch and turns back to the car, the passenger seat is empty. She opens the door and steps into the kitchen. She hangs her gleaming silver bow on the hook by front door and tiptoes down the hallway.

She peeks into three bedrooms, at the girls finally able to sleep peacefully, snoring hounds curled up at their feet. It’s not adoration like she once had, but it’s still a home, and these healing girls are just as much a family as her band of huntresses ever were. For what must be the first time that night, she thinks her heart might be whole.

#modern mythology #greek goddesses #artemis #apollo #hecate #iphigenia #selene #greek mythology #modern greek mythology

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