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ronearoundblindly · 2 years ago

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The Dignity of His Choice (3)

Brand, Part One (see previous or series)

Summary: Why Steve decided to fake his own death.

[Minors DNI. Warnings for implied smut, canon-level violence, angst]

How this all started…

They stopped a terrorist cell.

From intel retrieved at the leader’s residence, a small team immediately dispatches to a warehouse within ten kilometers where explosives are suspected. Steve and Bucky sweep the facility first since they could also escape the fastest were anything triggered. They split up. Bucky takes the large spaces while Steve clears a short labyrinth of offices and storage closets.

Bucky gives the all-clear to the team outside. Steve confirms “no explosives” over the channel before catching his friend’s eye and waving for him to follow. Steve doesn’t say a word until the door is shut to the windowless room. He even takes out his comms.

From Bucky’s wide eyes, Steve was right to bring him in immediately.

Bucky removes his earpiece, too, then flips the volume up on his walkie and orders, “I want the warehouse handled but then await further instruction. No other rooms. Got it?”

“Acknowledged, Sarge.”

Steve holds up several papers from a makeshift desk littered with files. His skin crawls in panic. “Tell me this isn’t what I think it is, Buck.”

Among the papers are photos, dozens of photos of just one person: you, including a picture of you out celebrating your promotion months ago, one of your friend Gracie’s birthday party from just last week, and one of a particularly disturbing nature inside a dressing room. He can’t tell when that’s from; he doesn’t recognize the clothes or the walls. The papers detail all kinds of things, thorough tracking your movements and records of your preferences of everything from food and drink to skincare and feminine hygiene products. Steve’s gut knots itself entirely when he comes across a file containing medical records and an accurate calendar of your menstrual cycle. He’s gonna be sick.

Bucky doesn’t have to say anything. The intent is obvious enough.

“Looks like kidnapping,” Buck mutters anyway. “You don’t do this level of recon just to poison or kill. My guess is leverage over you.”

The papers are like heavy knives in his hands. His tact suit feels excruciatingly tight, and Steve’s brain is on fire with rage.

“Down to her fucking period,” he blurts, low and violent. Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up at the language but an air of holding his tongue has Steve more nervous. “What?”

“A pregnant woman would be even more valuab—“

Steve punches the table so hard the plastic buckles, toppling to one side, stacks of surveillance intel sliding to the floor. His jaw locks. The thing is that there is nothing for his rage to stand on because Steve doesn’t understand how this could be happening.

“But we caught them all, right?”

His voice is tight, Steve admits, weaker than he hoped. There’s no confidence in it. There’s less than none when Bucky speaks.

“Today was one of the leaders, yeah…” His friend rubs the back of his neck.

Steve’s hands sink deep into his hair as he weighs options. “How many more?”

Bucky slides his walkie back up to his mouth, eyes fixed on Steve’s barely contained meltdown. “Torres, come in.”

After a beat, “yeah, Sarge?”

“I’m gonna need a crate brought to the back hall here. Just leave it there and we’ll pack it up.”

“You got it. Looks like we’ll be finished here in twenty.”

“Okay. Crate now, and we’ll be ready by the time you guys are done.”

A minute later, a hollow thump from beyond the door signals the drop-off.

With an armful of files, Bucky turns back to Steve. “I’ll handle the box myself. No one will see these,” he assures, opening the door and dragging the solid-sided, black bin inside. He drops in his armful, and just as he straightens, he sighs, “but we need to think of something, pal. This investment? The time they’ve spent? They won’t let her go.”

Steve worried Buck would say that, but then he never answered the question.

“How many?” Steve throws the force of a punch behind each word, and by the unblinking look on his friend’s face, Steve is already unprepared.

“Compiled list is thirty-five members—” Bucky puts his finger up before Steve tries to ask “—and that’s the ones not crossed off yet.”

Steve takes his rage and frustration out on the files until Bucky stops him from destroying evidence. Steve uses every ounce of his training, focus, and serum-laced enhancement to not show any agitation outside of the room.

On the return flight to HQ, he settles into a stoic—but very edgy—version of his normal self. His mind races at the speed of light. One of his first decisions is to not tell you because he doesn’t actually know anything yet. With so many enemy operatives still unaccounted for, he has to proceed under the assumption that some of that mountain of intel was fed through sources inside the Initiative. To allow Bucky time and distraction to haul the crate to his own quarters, Steve oversees unloading and takes point at the debrief.

He only becomes more paranoid when he gets back home. As you speak about your day, you mention at least two names he doesn’t recognize, so he pries, harder than he ever would before. You tease him about being jealous and swear that Tom the Barista only has eyes for Jake Hudson from your lab. Tom even came as Jake’s date to Gracie’s birthday party. You tell Steve he’s met him.

Steve shifts leaning forward on the couch while you casually lounge in his rocking chair. “Who? Thomas?”

“Yes, Steven,” you sass, twirling a finger through the chain of your necklace, a gift from your lab group given for your promotion (that dozens of nefarious scumbags have a picture from), “that’s generally what ‘Toms’ also go by.”

Steve considers how long that means you’ve been watched. He considers it for too long.

“Are you feeling okay? You’re very twitchy.”

“Tired.” Steve isn’t lying about that, and since he knows he’s a crappy liar, Steve has to be more careful.

“Go have a shower, love.” You kiss his forehead, running your fingers lazily through his hair. It makes his skin crawl again, painfully exhilarating and terrifying all at once. “I can bring dinner back here if you want.”

His grunt and sigh suffice as an answer.

Steve never was a stealth operative (well, not for anything longer than sneaking into a building), so he only stops obsessively over every product you kept in the bathroom—on the counter, in the drawers, and in the cabinet—when you peek in to ask if he wants sweet or savory sauce for his egg rolls.

Your curious look turns into a smirk. “What? Not liking the way I smell now?”

“Uh…” He blanks.

You pluck the jar of cream out of his hands and replace it with a tube of balm.

“Better for your dry elbows,” you hum with a smile and pat the meat of his bicep. “I’ll put out all the sauces. Just take your time, Sketch.” You shut the door behind you.

Steve knows he will throw up if he forces himself to eat his normal amount of food, and since he’s a super soldier and doesn’t get stomach bugs or food poisoning (or lose his appetite for any other reason), he is forced to do something he has never, ever done before. Steve fakes getting a call from a team member and leaves the apartment for a while. He walks the whole tree line around the complex in the dark and then returns to say not to worry, they had food upstairs. He gets away with this because there is food up in the lounge right by the main conference room; he just doesn’t fill in the part where he didn’t go anywhere near it.

The only thing that settles his stomach is to be near you, as near as humanly possible, so that night when you two make love, Steve holds onto you a lot tighter, his face never more than an inch away from yours. He pushes your hips against him and grips the back of your neck. You respond to his intensity with extra affection, which leads to a second-round where Steve was nothing shy of overbearing and possessive. He knows you sense a change, but you didn’t ask. You never ask for details after missions, and he usually likes that you help keep those things separate. You always wait for him to be ready to talk. He will never be ready to admit what kind of danger you were in.

So he spirals for hours. Each time he closes his eyes, he sees the photos. He sees you going about your everyday life not knowing you’re being watched. He sees you, twirling and biting at your necklace, deep in thought. He wishes he never scolded you for that nervous habit. He wishes he’d been nicer about the bear on it (even though he’s right and it is actually the same as the California state flag), but you love it anyway. He can’t take any of it back now. All he does is stare at the metal chain laying against your softly rising chest, pendant settled just between your breasts, and he feels helpless.

The next day, when he gets a chance to speak with Bucky far away from HQ on their run, it only gets worse.

The reason someone would want to kidnap you is to control him. It doesn’t take the brain power of anyone over the age of five to notice Steve will do anything for his wife, and the biggest problem boils down to the time it takes to tick off all the names on that list. Of the listed thirty-nine, four are already captured or killed as of yesterday’s mission. However, the Team only started acting on intel for this group a week and a half ago. They currently have leads on seven more, but the info ranges from “we know he lives right here” to “I heard someone talk about seeing him in this other country a year ago.” Tracking, verification, and takedown of thirty-five targets could take…well, it’s impossible to estimate.

Keeping you in hiding is an option, but you’d be out of work for who knows how long (and pissed about it). Bucky is fairly certain Steve would not be able to join you in hiding either, so you’d be alone and pissed and he’d still be afraid. You could have a heavy security detail, but that’s no good because some of that research came from HQ; at the very least there’s a data leak, but there could also be an operative working amongst them. Even if Steve up and quits, retiring from the Avengers, he’s still capable of being wielded as a physical or political weapon, and just because he isn’t fighting on the Team, doesn’t mean he can’t influence the Avengers (and several world governments) anyway. There is no clean path forward. All options require coordination and too many resources.

Eventually, it’s Bucky’s suggestion that offers the quickest and most efficient solution. If Steve dies, no one has use of you as leverage. Steve now wants to throw up. He doesn’t like the idea of being stuck away from you indefinitely, but he soothes himself by comparing this to any other mission. In fact, he wills himself to calm down since this mission is entirely for your safety, but he can’t fully accept it. He just keeps feeling sick.

A vague semblance of a plan is discussed. Bucky has a safe house from his time on the run (left unfound because of how useless the location is for fieldwork), but it is remote—can’t find it on a map even when it’s marked with an x remote—and in a wilderness surrounded by tundra. No electricity, no running water, no satellite signal. Nothing.

A new leader will take over the terrorist cell. That could take some time, but not much, and Steve and Bucky can’t coordinate an elaborate rouse on their own. With each person they’d bring into the fold, or each prepared part of the deception, they risk whoever is feeding information from inside knowing Steve is still alive. Worse yet, their plan to take you might be moved up if the group knows that he suspects. Steve and Bucky agree to tell absolutely no one. They have to go by opportunity with knee-jerk reactions as their guide.

Steve spends half of each night watching you sleep, memorizing your body, stroking your hair and hip. He reminds himself not to behave differently. He can’t savor your touch more or convince you not to spend a day with your sibling at port that week. He catches you watching him sadly a few times. You sense something still, but he convinces himself over and over that it’s for the best. Nothing helps him sleep.

Ten days later, Bucky, Natasha, and Steve are all sent to dismantle an Inhuman fight club that acts as a rendezvous for two names on the list, theoretically. Steve never gets to see their faces. One of the Inhumans can explode and then reintegrate, so there’s basically a bomb moving around the place that can go off as many times as it wants. It only takes one shared look between Steve and Bucky to know: this is it.

Steve tosses the shield at the man as he’s triggering, drops his comms where he stands, then sneaks back to the jet, hiding, while part of the building collapses. After the Inhuman and his associates are captured, Bucky behaves like he’s looking for Steve in the rubble. Nat finds the shield, scorched so badly the color’s gone off, and her distraught announcement to send a cleanup crew, one that should expect human and superhuman remains, sounds genuine because it is. Nat thinks Bucky is being quiet and brooding because he’s in the field and she wouldn’t expect him to slip into an emotional scene no matter how epic the Brooklyn boys’ bond. Steve hides for almost two and a half hours until Bucky and Nat finally return to the jet. Once in the air, Steve hears muffled voices, then yelling, and then Buck calls his name. If Steve didn’t know Nat so well, he’d swear she barely blinks as he steps out of his expansive cargo locker onboard, but she’s upset.

All Steve has to say, though, is that you’re being targeted, and Nat springs into action, finding any supplies that can be overlooked as missing or a regular inventory discrepancy. A certain number of rations. Some first aid supplies. Ammunition. Two of Bucky’s (many) knives and one of her own guns. Steve notices Bucky smiling at his gal fondly several times and feels a stab in his own gut for how much he already misses you. Bucky packed his own go-bag with several helpful additions (including clothes and an extra duffel to carry it all in) and wrote down extremely thorough directions to the cabin, directions which Steve is to destroy as soon as he gets there.

Natasha raids every locker and storage area onboard for liquor (which covers up the evidence of removed supplies) and splashes some vodka on her chest after a few swigs. She insists Steve and Bucky drain every bottle, too. Finally, she explains that any extra time the jet is in the air and doesn’t return to HQ will be chalked up to her and Bucky wallowing in their own unique way. Steve adores Nat’s genius at that moment, but he half-wishes for Thor’s refilling container of Asgardian ale—the only thing he and Bucky can really get drunk on—because Steve already hates what’s about to happen.

They fly the jet in stealth mode as low and as close as possible without wavering from a reasonable flight plan. It’s the one time Natasha doesn’t mind Steve jumping out of her jet; she’s a pragmatist and knows it’s necessary. It still takes Steve about twenty-seven hours to find the damn cabin, a needle among needles in a needle factory, but that’s why Bucky’s the best.

And then all Steve can do is wait.

(Next part) Don't hurt me, dearies /o\

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

#fools rush in #steve x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers #steve x you #fanfic #series #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers angst #angst with a happy ending #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america angst

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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years ago

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In the Tent, Under His Arms (Eyeless Jack X F!Reader)

[Eyeless Jack X F!Reader]

[Warnings: literally just smut, knotted dick, breeding kink kinda?, possessive, I feel like EJ is his own warning, dubcon, rough, degrading(?), slight praise, if you are a minor DNI]

[AN: this thing is 8K words so have fun. Ngl, I had a lot of inspiration from the Wolf Man from Darkwood, so like,,,,,, that's gonna show up here as influence srry. ily <3]

To say you are nervous as you traverse the woods was an understatement. You could hardly breathe as you quietly stepped through the darkness that curtained the forest around you. Small little mushrooms and pieces of paper dotted your way as you continued to shine your flashlight at the deer path before you. Branches seemed to spring out from tree trunks in the blink of an eye scratched at your clothes as you pushed yourself forward. Every little sound that didn’t emit from you set you on edge.

How the hell did you even get here? You woke up on the floor of a rundown house. Cold tile had been your mattress as you slowly found your bearings. A quick glance around the darkened room showed a barren room, its walls littered with papers worried about a tall man in the woods. The only warnings were to watch out for him, fear him and not get caught by him lest you be taken. But you were still confused, scared and unsure.

Instead, you found yourself doing the only thing you could really think of. Securing your safety. This went on for a week without a hitch (save for the odd faces that peered into the windows every now and then) until one fateful morning where you were greeted by the only sentient living being that wished to talk to you since… Well… Since before you ended up here.

You had taken up refuge in a closet for the night and after stretching, headed to the kitchen to make something when you were rudely greeted to a… man?

Leaning against your counter drinking some coffee he’s already brewed.

You were about to rush back to your closet and pick up your blade when the man lowly chuckled.

A deep silence fell between the two of you as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. From the silence came low, rumbling, almost animalistic breathing.

It was then that you finally got a clear view of who was leaning in your kitchen. You grounded yourself in the doorway, not budging as the man slowly sipped from the coffee mug. You took notice of what he was wearing as he did so - a big, dark blue hoodie, and on top of that, a big, brown jacket. He had worn blue jeans. Steel toe boots.

The most unsettling parts of it all?

He had ashy, grey skin. From his profile, you could see shark-like teeth, grinning at you like a wolf.

“It’s really rude to stare, sweetheart,” the grey skinned man interrupted before taking another languid sip. “Have some coffee. I went outta my way to get it for you,” he finished before you could even begin to register what he was saying.

You awkwardly looked off to the side as words failed to build in your mouth. However, your mind continued to race with thoughts.

The grey skinned man verbally rolled his eyes with a huff before placing his mug down. Then, he quickly turned himself around and opened up one of the cabinets, fished for a mug, settled on a slightly chipped white one, inspected it, then placed it on the counter beside his. His clawed hand reached for the pot of coffee and grasped it before pouring the pleasantly warm and aromatic liquid into the slight chipped mug.

“Here,” he hummed as he held out the mug to the still frozen in place you. “Before it gets cold.”

You felt immediate disgust but hit it from your face as you cautiously stepped forward.

Sighing deeply, he closed the space between the two of you by taking confident steps forward.

On instinct, you held your hands out and took the mug.

He smiled in approval before leaning back on the counter to drink from his mug. “Sorry about the lack of sugar and creamer,” he said in passing as he watched you take a slow, shy sip. “You’ve seen the state of things out there, haven’t you? Can’t find shit even if I tried.”

Upon deeming the drink not poisonous and not harmful to your wellbeing, you felt more at ease and took more confident sips. “Who are you?” You asked, effectively breaking the semi-comfortable silence.

“A medic in some circles, a trader in others,” he began, flashing his rows of pearly white sharp teeth. “Call me Jack.” His gaze then lowered, eyes still obscured by his hood. “And what about you, sweetheart? How did you find yourself in this wicked place?”

You shifted uncomfortably before leaning in the doorway and taking another sip from the mug. “I don’t know,” you muttered. “I woke up here,” you gestured to the cold, checkered tile the two of you were currently standing on, “and got to work,” you finished. Your eyes remained trained on the floor. You remembered the first few days you were here - how awkward and strange they were. The feelings of confusion and anger. Stumbling around in the dark.

Jack nodded thoughtfully at your words before he finished his mug in one big gulp. He then smirked at you, the corners of his lip tilting upwards before he began stalking towards you.

Instinctively, you backed up, ready to defend yourself.

Jack chuckled under his breath. He smelled of wet soil and pine. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said as he stopped just an arm’s distance in front of you. He looked down at you, his eyes still observed by the darkness as you struggled to see what he looked like. His clawed hand suddenly reached out, and you flinched. He grinned, and took his lifted hand to hold your chin before slowly tilting your gaze upwards to meet his in full. “Let me get a good look at those pretty eyes,” he murmured.

And that when you saw his, or rather, the lack of. Just empty caverns. Dark, soulless, but they looked at you with such hunger.

Jack watched your pretty eyes flutter, mostly in nervousness before he leaned down. His sockets bore into you. His other hand left his coat pocket to your face, clawed came closer and closer to your eyes making you scrunch your nose. “Find me in the burnt clearing. I’ll be waiting for you.” His index finger came up to the bridge of your nose and slid down it. He chuckled at your confused expression before he tapped your nose.

When you reopened your eyes, he was gone.

You spent a few days wondering if you should go or if it was a trap. There was really no one to ask and the faces that peered into your window didn’t seem to give an answer one way or another. Your gut, however, kept telling you it was a bad idea.

That was what you were sticking with: it’s a bad idea, you shouldn’t go.

So, why were you stumbling through the woods near sundown looking for him? It was stupid, you thought, that you could be walking into your death. You quickly slashed through the brambles until you made your way to a small clearing. A light shined in the short distance when it wasn’t obscured by rapidly growing branches. A quick glance down at your map showed that this was the eyeless man’s camp.

Your fingers tightened around your blade as you left the heavy foliage to inspect the camp. There was a sizable tent followed by various crates strewn about. In the center was a fire pit and across from it was a worn down green couch. How did that even get in here?

You carefully came closer to the roaring fire with timid steps while trying to calm down your breathing. A quick glance around and there was nothing but silence to accompany you as the sun sunk further and further down the horizon. You let your guard drop for just a moment before prickling back to attention. A presence behind you made you swivel, lurch and raise your blade faster than what you were capable of.

“Took you long enough. You do know that it’s rude to keep people waiting, don’t you?” Jack states with a small frown before bursting into a fit of laughter at the sound of your still drumming heart. “What has you so nervous?” He questions, eyeing you like you are nothing but a piece of meat.

“This is your camp?” You say, more out of observation than waiting for affirmation.

“It is,” Jack hums. “Good to see you made it. I’ve seen some proxies barely make it here by the skin of their teeth,” he continues as he sits down by the fire.

“What?” You ask as you quirk up an eyebrow.

Jack picks up his back to rest between his knees and rummage through it before beckoning you over to sit next to him.

You cautiously sit next to him on another crate. You avert your attention from him back to the fire.

“Proxies are servants of this tall guy,” Jack explains after ensuring you took your seat. “They run these woods essentially, but they never come to my neck in fear of the things that exist past what is safe,” he grins slightly, still rummaging in the bag. “Out here, it’s just me and the things who lurk.”

“The things that lurk?” You whisper in a questioning tone.

Jack nods again and pulls out a little journal. He begins to thumb through it as he continues to explain to you. “Things known as the Rake, the notdeer, the proxies that succumb to their sickness early, y’know, the things that kill.” He finally finds what he’s looking for.

You turn your attention to the journal and see he’s amassed a collection of polaroid photographs of the things that lurk.

“See? These are some proxies,” he hands the book to you and points at the pictures. “And here is one of the things that lurk.” His clawed finger shows you what used to be a proxy, their body torn to shreds, organs hanging everywhere, and in the center, what you can describe as a monster hungrily devouring their flesh. “I have a lot of good shit out here, and most of them never make it past this guy.”

You shiver slightly and Jack furrows his brows for just a moment.

“Sorry,” he apologizes for a moment before briefly taking the book from you. “Anyways, very few people make it out of the woods unless you’re a proxy or me. We used to make it out a lot easier but there was this one guy, ugly fucker,” he hisses. “That left the woods after burning down the trees to the main road - one of our crossing points. The trees grew back so fast after the tall guy’s wrath and now we’re all stuck here as a result. That ugly fucker? He disa-fucking-peared.” Jack growls deeply as he says it, clearly not happy with the memory.

“I’m… Sorry,” you apologize awkwardly.

Jack shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, yeah?” He hums. “Anyways, flip a few pages and you’ll see the ugly fucker’s hovel before he left.” He pointed to the picture of a house similar to the one you were staying in.

Small world?

You studied the man who stood in the picture. He wasn’t that ugly in your opinion.

Jack then shows you other photos, places, effigies, proxies and one of a brilliant mansion. Apparently, you need to stay away from that place at all costs. There’s also pictures of him and other people, some of them you recognize from your time on earth? Is that right? Are you still on earth?

Jack explains a bit more to you. Mostly about this place. It’s like a pocket. Somehow, you were taken and brought here for a reason. Jack suspects it’s because the tall man, also known as the Slender Man, wants to make you a proxy.

“You’ll lose your humanity that way,” he tsks. “And that’s why I called you here. Not for pictures and conversation,” the warmth that was in his tone over reminiscing over things and learning about others is gone.

You notice it almost instantly. You watch as his posture changes and so too do his facial features. You know he means business now.

“I know you’re looking for a way out,” he begins. “I can help you with that.” Jack notices your eyes light up for the first time in well… It’s the first time he’d seen you look so hopeful.

“What’s the catch?” You ask as you slowly lean away from him.

Before Jack could say anything, a shriek was heard off in the distance. Jack’s face twinkled with excitement for a second before he nodded his head over to his tent.

It caught you off guard and sent your heart racing before yet another shriek emitted from the dark forest around the two of you.

“It’s dark,” Jack says as his gaze goes back over to his tent again. “Stay here for the night. Those things out there don’t really fuck with me,” he muses. When you don't answer, he stands up. “Unless you wanna try your luck out there, sweetheart. By all means…” He trails off as he slowly begins walking over to his tent.

You swallow your pride and stand up much too fast and catch pace with him.

Jack lets out an amused chuckle as he opens the flaps to the tend and allows you entrance.

You were immediately shrouded in the scent of petrichor and wild flowers. Surprisingly, it didn’t smell near as rough as you had originally expected. You felt a tad awkward standing in his tent as he zipped it up.

“You can sit down,” he says as he ensures the flaps were shut properly.

You nod more to yourself than anyone else and take a few more steps inside. It was tall enough that you could stand without brushing your head on the roof. On the floor interspersed with grass were carpets. It looked like a nest was in the near middle? Tons of blankets and two twin sized mattresses laid side by side were on the ground.

You glance around and see a small little desk, some writing supplies, just normal home stuff. Why was Jack living out here? There were tons of vacant houses.

Instead, you brush the thought off and settle on sitting timidly at the end of one of the blanket covered mattresses.

“Good choice,” Jack says as he procures from his pocket a box of matches. Then, he reaches over on the little desk for a kerosene lamp. After lighting it, the dimness of the tent became something actually visible. He checks his watch as he slowly makes his way to the other mattress.

“What time is it?” You ask as you struggle to get comfortable on the mattress.

“Surprisingly? Nearing midnight,” he answers. Jack stretches slightly before plopping down entirely. “Get some sleep, yeah? Tomorrow morning, we’ll set out to do what I ask,” Jack subtly demands. He props his elbows up on his knees and watches from the corner of his gaze as you shift awkwardly.

You felt strange laying down on the mattress, but did so anyway. It doesn’t seem Jack cared very much that your shoes were still on. You move your body slightly to find comfort on the mattress while Jack continues to eye you from the corner of his vision.

He takes note of your form, how delicious you look. How he can take you right now.

But he saw your eyelids grow heavy. Within moments, you were on the verge of passing out.

Jack relents softly. He knows she wants your full attention while he ruts into you making you cry out to gods that don’t want to hear you. He sees you begin to fade in and out of consciousness. Luckily for him, he does have some business to attend to, and those creatures didn’t ever get too close to his camp.

They wouldn’t touch you, not with his scent bathed all over you.

One of the last things you heard before Jack left to attend to other matters was a compliment. You barely heard it, and it would have shocked you right awake if your body wasn’t on the verge of shutting down.

“You look so pretty right now, Sweetheart. Beautiful, even.”

It wasn’t until 3am that Jack finally returned. You were fast asleep when he finally resented the tent, but he could smell you all the way from where his important matters laid. His nose guided him back to you. And funnily enough, it brought him back to you about a week ago as well.

Jack hadn’t smelled a fertile woman in a very long time. Well, since this whole mess came upon the Slender Man’s woods, really. He spied on you the first few days you were here. You weren’t as ready for him then, must’ve just been leading up to it. When he popped into your kitchen, it was because you were getting so close to your peak. The smell was overwhelming, sweet, and tender. Intoxicating. Like fresh peaches and the tangiest of strawberry pie. Lucky for him? You came to him at your peak.

Jack ressecure the flaps of the tend before his vision that saw all too well in the darkness his beauty that rests on the mattress he knew you’d choose. Your face and other gestures were gently lit up by the almost extinguished kerosene lamp’s flame. It drove him wild to see you breathe so peacefully.

Your chest rose every so slightly and he could have sworn he caught the outline of your nipples if it wasn’t for that stupiud bra you had on instead.

Jack licked his lips as he quietly drew himself closer to you. He couldn’t stop himself from crawling on top, quietly and slowly, so as to not wake you. One of his knees gently pried apart your legs, and then he took in your scent. You smelled of something not from the woods. You smelled of fresh vanilla and dark roast coffee. Of strawberry pound cake. Of good things.

Jack leans down and takes in your scent near the base of your neck, inhales deeply, then buries his nose in your hair. You smell divine, possibly even better than… Well, it’s best not to say. His hand picks itself up off the mattress to gently and gingerly brush near your hairline. Sily. Pretty. He then places it on your stomach and lightly presses, trailing his claws along your abdomen to your side. You are so soft. So delicate.

The moment his clawed fingertips touch your side and begin trailing down, you wake up.

Your eyes fly open and you almost let out a scream at seeing how this strange man is looming over you. Your mouth opens, but his hand quickly leaves your side to smother you. You breathe heavily against his palm, your eyes wide and with fear. You struggle against him.

“Shhh, he hushes as his hand presses a little firmer on your mouth. “Calm down.” His voice was low as his knee dug further into the mattress, just below the place he wanted most.

You continue to struggle against him, fighting against his planted hand while his other hand presses down on your hips.

“You promise not to scream?” Jack deadpans in a low tone with an edge that cuts you to your core. He sees tears welling in your eyes, and he knows you’re telling the truth. Slowly, he peels his hand back, watching as you keep true to your word.

You take in deep breaths to help self regulate. “What the fuck?” You seethe. Your arms, which have been pawing wildly at his chest, relax only slightly when his clawed hands catch your wrist in a vice grip.

“Easy,” he murmurs, only loosening his grip when he’s sure you won’t fight him any further. His head dips so his empty caverns can peer right through yours in the dim light.

One look and you know what he wants. Horor and something else - something wanton - pass across your face, making Jack laugh.

“I said I wasn’t gonna hurt you,” he hums, his clawed index finger trailing your cheek.

Before you can say anything else, Jack’s hand leaves your hips and grabs your face. With a wicked grin, he licks his teeth, then leans down and licks your face.

You contort to digits as he does so. He smells of iron.

“Why are you doing this?” You growl as his tongue leaves your cheek to your chin, slowly making his way to your neck. “I can leave if that’s-”

“No,” Jack growls. “You won’t leave,” he states before gently nipping at the soft flesh on your neck. “You smell so good,” he murmurs before taking another languid lick at your neck.”I’m going to make you mine,” With that, he entirely retracted his form from yours to look down at you.

Of course, you fight him. Your thighs grip around his upper leg that still rests between your knees and you almost maange to flip the two of you over. But he was much bigger and much stronger than you could manage. With a deep laugh, he grips your wrists tighter above your head and squeezes to let you know who is in charge. With his free hand, he reaches into his back pocket and gets the zip ties.

How the fuck did he get zip ties?

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you hiss as he dangles them in front of your eyes.

“I just can’t trust you right now,” Jack tsks in the tone of a pouting child. The black zip ties feel awful against your wrists (they also feel good) - and he’d secured them so tightly. He playfully watches you attempt to break free from them, and when it proves futile, he laughs. Jack then allows his hands to take free roam of your body while you begin to protest him less and less. “I know you don’t have any spare clothes,” he hums thoughtfully before his fingers waltz down to the hem of your shirt. “Luckily, I have some left over. You won’t be needing any of this,” he cackles as his sharp claws make waste of the fabric.

You feel yourself growing weaker and weaker under his grasp but still curse at him more than what you deem possible. Jack seemed to eat up your insults. “You’re fucking sick,” you spit as he eyes your bra hungrily. “A sick fucking pervert.”

“You stayed the night, Sweetheart,” Jack grins wickedly. “I’m only taking claim of what’s now mine,” he says before delicately tracing the cups of your bra. He likes the design. Dark blue with light colored polka dots. An interesting choice. Without wasting any more time, his claws cut through the fabric too - no use in unclasping while your hands are bound. “How beautiful,” he giggles. “How lovely. I could hardly tell when you were using those bags you call clothes,” he teases, making your knees clamp around his knee once more, making Jack break again and laugh.

You bite your tongue and try to avert your gaze from him, not wanting him to see that you’re flushed due to the intimacy and that your body and you yourself are growing keen to the situation you have found yourself in. “This is…”

“C’mon,” Jack breathes out as his fingers trail up your smooth flesh to your breasts. “You must’ve known something was up. A man doesn’t just ask a woman to stay the night. He’s got one thing on his mind if she isn’t family or a friend: he wants to fuck her.”

The harshness and pure lust that dripped from his tongue made your face heat up in response. Your gaze darts and bounces around before you finally settle on his hands that are now fondling your chest.

Jack’s hands travel to your pants. He takes in your scent again. You are intoxicating, so intoxicating.

“You’re gonna have to work for it,” you manage to hiss out, legs still clamped around his knee.

Jack’s expression falls. “You’re not in charge, I am.” And with that, he rips through your pants, leaving you naked before him.

You shiver slightly in response to the cool air, and of course, Jack has to see that and make note of it as well.

“Awh,” he coos as his nose gets closer and closer to your heat. “Are you cold? Do you want me to warm you up?” He murmurs in a sickening lust filled tone.

“You bastard-” you’re barely able to breathe out before you’re cut off by Jack dragging the flat of his long, black tongue from the bottom to the top, taking great joy in the arousal that was already present.

“What a naughty, naughty girl,” he teases before dragging his tongue again. “Already soaking,” he compliments. His thumb, careful of the sharpened claw, travels to your clit and begins to slowly massage it. He feels your legs shift. Jack hums as he does to, hsi tongue only playing with your lips. He was going to make you suffer before he stuffs you completely.

His teeth nip you every now and then, just to remind you who was really in charge as his tongue and lips press kisses to your lower lips. He doesn’t dare dip into your heat despite wanting to taste you in full.

You write in his grasp, trying to hold back any and all sounds of pleasure. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing what he’s doing to you.

It’s a shame really, he could make you see stars if only you’d let him.

He must have gone near half an hour with his head between your legs, still fully dressed. He was a man of great patience, and he’d been edging you for much longer and harder than he should have. He could see frustration dotting your face when he finally came back up to look at you.

You look a little more flushed than he remembers. It’s probably all the heat rushing to your face. He notices your hands are quite restless too, that and being tied up couldn’t be the most comfortable thing in the world.

“You look upset, why?” He asks before sucking on your clit. When you struggle to say anything, his teeth graze you ever so slightly. “Use your words, please,” he hums much like an authority figure would.

“Tongue fuck me,” you mumble in embarrassment, eyes darting anywhere but at Jack who is still nestled securely between your legs. You watch as Jack’s ears perk up.

“Say that again,” he prompts, his fingers taking over his tongue on your clit.

“Please,” you say softly “Tongue fuck me and please untie me.”

A sly grin crosses onto Jack’s face alongside yet another chuckle. He momentarily leaves your legs and crawls back up to be face to face with you. His index finger reaches up and his claw slashes through the zip ties.

You freely move your wrists, getting used to your newfound freedom.

“It’s only because you asked nicely,” Jack coos as his sockets bore into your eyes. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips, pleasantly surprised that you don’t fight him like before. He then crawls back down your body to rest in between your legs, his clawed fingers parting your lower lips slightly before he dives his tongue in. He takes great joy in how you write beneath him as your thighs press harder against the side of his head.

He buries his tongue inside of you and curls it in places no human could ever reach. He has you seeing stars.

You buck your hips quite a few times and Jack’s hand reluctantly leaves your thighs to push your hips back down. As he tongue fucks you closer and closer to release, you become a little harder to control. He enjoys it though.

Jack hums absentmindedly as he does so, relishing in your taste. You are soaking wet and so, so close. All he has to do is push you off the edge.

He slithers his tongue out of you before rubbing your clit with his thumb, allowing you to take your mind off your pussy and to the assault your clit before your mind goes white hot in pleasure. Jack’s tongue darts so fast into your pussy that you almost yelp in response as he thrusts it back in and out, still humming like it was no big deal.

Your back arches and that’s all Jack needs to know to see you’re just about to cum. A few more rough flicks of his tongue and you’re creaming onto his face. Your hands grip the nest’s bedsheets and various blankets as he continues to carefully tongue fuck you through your orgasm. He grins as he laps up your sweetness, teasing you under his breath about the effect he has on you.

But he’s not done with you, not by a long shot.

You look up hazily while panting deeply as Jack’s tongue slowly leaves your pussy. The flat of his tongue slowly swipes up from bottom to top which makes you giggle, and he smiles against your skin. From there, he begins working on undoing his belt.

“Here,” you murmur softly, his ears once again perking up to catch your words.

“Hm? He hums in response as he cocks his head to the side, watching as you slowly sit up and stretch before your hands gently press onto his chest. You push off his dark brown coat and then trail down to his belt.

Your hands are soft and gentle as you work on freeing him, and within moments, you are tossing his belt to the side and unzipping him. You can see the tent in Jack’s pants, and you can already feel how delicious he’s going to feel inside of you.

Jack nods for you to lay back down when you shake your head ‘no.’ Interesting. Instead, your hands unzip him and you reach for his cock. Your eyes pop as you touch it - he was hot, much hotter than any man you’d previously been with.

“Come on, don’t keep me waiting,” Jack teases.

You roll your eyes playfully before finally fishing him from his pants, guiding him out with anticipation. You look up at him the entire time you do so, lust clouding your vision and burning through your soul as you do so, almost unaware of the monster you hold in your hands. When you finally look down, you feel heat rise to your face once more.

Jack smirks in response and tangles his fingers near your scalp, brushing you ever so slightly. He guides your lips down to meet the giant. He was big. No denying it. Had to be near nine inches, thich, veiny, with a girthy know he couldn’t wait to stuff inside of you.

You didn’t fight against him. Instead, you eagerly awaited him for your mouth.

Your lips are soft as they press the lightest of kisses to his tip. And just like that, you’re dragging the length of your tongue up and down his cock and listening to him growl in anticipation. When you know you’ve got him where you want him, you take him in your mouth.

Jack’s claws keep steady in your hair as you bob your head. Your lips couldn’t reach his know, and to be completely fair, he wasn’t expecting you to be able to take all of him orally, but he loves what you can do. Your tongue swirls around his tip and shaft every time you come back up, and when Jack was acting up? You graze your teeth against him.

Before he knows it, you are looking up at him with the sweetest gaze, giving him your permission for him to use you. Jack passes you a look of affection before his other hand reaches up to caress your cheek, moaning out deeply as your tongue swirls on his tip, trying to coax his cum out.

Without any particular warning, he pushes your head down and brings you back up before working into face fucking you.

Your face goes dark as he uses you, making breathing damn near impossible. He begins muttering in some language you don’t know - they sound like praises - but he’s coming closer and closer to his edge.

In a mix of English and whatever language he was mumbling in, you can feel his praises get filthier and filthier. Though, Jack doesn’t want to finish in your mouth. Not this time.

“Back down, I’m going to fuck you,” he murmurs deeply while looking at you with lust and… something you can’t quite name. It wasn’t animalistic, that’s for sure.

Jack expects for you to lay back and spread your legs for him but instead, he watches as you maneuver on all fours. Your face is burying into the blankets and your ass is just shy of his waist level despite you pushing up towards him.

You glance back at him and roll your eyes playfully before swaying your hips, attempting to entice him further.

Jack sees the slickness of your cunt and without any hesitation, takes your waist into his clawed hands and begins rubbing his cock with your slick. “Gods, you’re so fucking wet,” he murmurs as he continues to rub his cock with your juices. “I’m going to destroy you.” And then he slips into that language you just can’t understand. “I’m going to knot you and you won’t be able to look at another man without begging for me to fill you up,” he says as his fingers lightly part your lips that were so tightly pressed together as he lines up with you.

Before he does so, he begins to shrug off his hoodie.

“Stop teasing me,” you say in a teasing tone, making Jack pause from taking off the rest of his clothes.

Jack verbally rolls his eyes before taking his hand out from under his hoodie before gripping your waist again. Without any warning, Jack shoves himself into your roughly, hilting himself to his knot before resting there and taking off the hoodie.

Your eyes roll up slightly as he thrust inside of you. The thickness he had wasn’t anything you were used to, and he stretched you open with absolutely no lead up and it made you see stars again.

“I can feel your wet cunt,” he says in passing as he throws his hoodie up and over his head. “Squeeze around me while you wait for me to fuck you,” he chuckles with a devilish grin. He feels your body’s eagerness for him to fuck you, and like such a good girl, you squeeze his cock making him breathe out with a smile. He feels you pulsing, he feels you growing hundred with the need the longer he stays dormant inside of you.

He sighs in ecstasy as he begins to slowly move himself out of you. When it was just the tip, he roughly slid back in, still refusing to knot. His ears twitch at the sound of you gasping for air as he really begins to fuck you. “And here you were calling me a pervert,” he muses as he begins to thrust into you with deep, long strokes, adoring the sounds that pour from your mouth. “But you like fucking me huh? You like it, you goddamn slut. You like being fucked by something that is no longer human,” he continues in that same dead language, nails digging into your soft flesh. “You’re gonna milk my cock and then you’re gonna do it again in the morning.”

Your eyebrows furrow, mouth slightly open, hair bouncing slightly with every thrust. Your face is so heated in response. This is something you know you shouldn’t be doing, but fuck was it good at keeping you around and interested.

As one of his clawed hands undug itself from your flesh to slide down your hip and caress your abdomen, his claws trace your skin and press into your clit once more. He thumbs you and leans over you as he does so, his other hand propping next to your head as he engulfs you with his size. He’s pounding into you now, still refusing to know. His tongue lazily swipes at your shoulder as his hips thrust into you at a damn near inhuman speed and strength, making you mumble incoherencies.

Your moans are music to his ears.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you feel like you can’t anymore, and I’m gonna fuck you until I’m the only man you’ll ever fucking think about,” he roughly sneers into your ears as he continues to pound his hips against you. “I’m going to fuck you until you tell me to stop, and even then? I might not stop.” He breathes deeply into your ear, his tongue tracing the shell as you pathetically move in tandem with him, his fingers digging into your clit and swirling.

He’s trying to get you to cum again.

You are trembling beneath him as his hips shatter you. You can feel his knot greet your lips, but still refuse to enter as Jack growls deeply into your ear. Your legs clamp together as his hand roughly fingers your pearl.

He’s so intoxicating, and you feel like you can’t breathe.

“Cum on my cock,” he hisses harshly, still fucking you to orgasm.

And just like that, he got his wish.

You squeeze shut your beautiful eyes before tightening your thighs together. An immediate waterfall gushes from between your legs, filling the air with something sweet and slightly bitter.

Jack laughs as he pulls out from your pussy, watching as the liquids continue to gush out. “What a cutie,” he teases as he lovingly licks your cheek. “Turn over. I wanna see your face when I knot you,” he grins, nodding for you to lay back on the side of the twin mattresses that was not turned into an ocean.

On hellied legs, you slowly wobble and hum as his finger traces your slit before falling back to the side of the mattresses that isn’t soaked. Your eyes meet his gaze and you slowly spread your legs as he looms over you. You catalog everything about him. In your eyes, he looks so animalistic, and so human all at the same time.

Without his jacket or his hoodie, you’re able to see the scars that decorate his body. He’s so dark, and the cuts and jagged lines that dash across his form are so light in contrast. He’s still lacking eyes - so how is it that he looks at you with such love?

That stupid smirk is looking at you again and you’re tearing your gaze off it to see the head of his cock weeping with precum.

Jack whistles down at you, his hand resting on your knee. “You knew this was coming, Sweetheart,” he hums as he leans forward, hands placing themselves on both sides of you. His grin grew as he saw your face heat up once more.

Jack feels your legs shift followed by a slight weight on his lower waist, He makes a noise of approval as your ankles lock before he glances down to where your bodies are soon going to be connected again. “Let me know if I hurt you at any point,” he whispers softly in your ear as his slightly pointed tip prods at your entrance.

You find yourself almost taken aback by his sudden kindness - he was so domineering but so soft? Your trail of thought is almost entirely derailed as he pushes his cock in and past your puffy, swollen lips as you listen to him hiss at the new angle.

It’s intimate - neither of you can deny that.

Jack watches your expressions from the corner of his gaze as he slowly begins to pump in and out of you, working you to that breakneck pace once more. He watches as your eyebrows furrow as he picks up the pace, fucking you in your entirety. He feels your legs tighten around his waist and watches as your eyebrows furrow once more and knit together in pleasure.

You begin to pant as he does so, walls pulsing deliciously around him as his hips meet yours in thick, meaty thrusts. You feel his cock slide deeper and deeper with every thrust, pushing you to new limits.

Your moans are, once again, music to his ears as he fucks you senseless. Your hands wantonly claw at his back and brush against his sensitive flesh. Swears and curses escape your lips every now and then and that makes him blush.

“You are taking me so, so well,” he harshly compliments through pants as he lowers himself onto his forearms, his hips continuously snapping forward. “It’s almost as if your cunt was made for me. I wonder if you can take my knot as well?” He mumbles as his knot kisses your bruised lips once again. “I don’t care what you say, I’m gonna make you take it.”

“Fuck!” Jack swore under his breath as your walls vice gripped him. “You’re gonna take my knot and you’re gonna like it,” he mumbles into your neck as he kisses and nips at it. He hisses again when you rake your nails across and down his back. His ears fall back in pleasure and close to his scalp as you moan louder. The sound of your pussy gobbling him up has him weak at the knees.

“You’re getting close again, aren’t you?” He questions as he nips at your neck, threatening to bite in the longer you hesitate in answering.

You’re admittedly pretty tongue tied at the moment. “I-!” You’re cut off but his hips slapping forward making you choke and gasp for air. “I am-,” you breathe out through your moans.

“Perfect,” Jack chuckles as he slowly inches his way out. He watches your face carefully as he pulls out, his gaze trained on yours as his forearms push up so he can see you better.

Confusion etches itself on your face. “What?”

“I just wanna see your face,” he answers as his tip rubs against your entrance. He licks your cheek playfully once more before slowly, and deliciously dragging his cock back in, his knot just barely meeting your lips. “This might hurt,” he murmurs gently as he picks his hips back up once more before thrusting back in, much more forcefully, his thick, large knot finally breaching your pussy.

Your eyes widen as his girthy knot pushes inside of you, your legs instinctively tightening around his hips. Your hand leaves his back to grip onto his bicep. Luckily for you, Jack doesn’t mind. You wince as he wiggles in the rest of his knot into your pussy as it swallows him whole, the entirety of his knot being buried inside of you, making it hard for you to breathe. You feel so full and stuffed!

Jack is a little surprised by how strong your grip is! He’s almost completely smitten with it when he finally looks down to see tears welling in your eyes. He can tell it’s a mixture of both paini, from being stressed immensely, and pleasure in a way only pain could bring. It’s ecstasy. Jack leans down gently and begins to kiss your tears away, careful to not pull where the two of you are connected all the while restraining himself to what he doesn’t believe is bearable.

“You feel so divine,” he murmurs livingly before licking away another tear. “Just relax, let me do the work,” he continues. He feels your lips on his and he smiles, taking that as the green light to rock into you. Unfortunately, he would not be able to completely destroy you like he did prior to knotting you simply because of the knot.

Now, Jack takes the time to be intimate. He lovingly relishes in the feeling of kissing you as he slowly and tantalizingly grinds his hips against you and lightly thrusts after every roll. It was a little difficult due to the connection, but it felt sweet. His hand went back between your legs to work your pearl as he continued to sweetly roll and thrust into you, thoroughly enjoying how your hips are shyly coming up to meet him.

“Come on,” he whispers softly through his kiss as he begins to thrust a little rougher. “Just a little more, cum on my cock again,” he urges as he breaks the kiss, licking your cheek. He’s swiping and thumbing your clit in ways that have you writhing beneath him.

Your legs tighten around his waist, urging him to press deeper inside of you.

Not one to deny a lady from what she wants, Jack backs up as far as his hips will let him and pounds back into you. He repeats the motion, making sure to roll every time he does so.

Your hands grasp at his back once more as he fucks you with reckless abandon, his name being the only thing to spill from your lips as he does so. You can’t believe he’s overloading you again, and your heart picks up in response. You kiss him once more, feeling his chapped, rough lips against your soft ones before he leaves and nips down the side of your face and back to your neck. He lightly bites down, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough for you to know he’s got a claim on you.

You look up at him as he mumbles in that same dead language against your skin. He’s so lost in you that it’s almost adorable. Your hand gently asks for his attention, and he gives it to you. You give him a look of nothing but lust and possibly love, and Jack’s lips are on yours again, thickly, warmly, with something deeper and much more passionate than anything you would have expected he was capable of. When he breaks away, panting, against your face, he makes you cry out in pleasure.

“I’m going to fill you,” Jack sneers through his panting, hips still thickly pounding into you. “I’m going to fill you for as long as I’m inside of you,” he mutters as his thrusts frow sloppy. Jack covers you entirely with his body as he roughly pants into your ear, so, so close to spilling.

Your walls begin to flutter around him, urging him to spill as he growls into you. You feel like you’re creaming rings around his dick, urging, no, begging him to bottom out inside of you. Your nails are leaving dark, jagged marks into the flesh of his back as he does so.

With a few more powerful thrusts, Jack finds himself going over the edge, his hips back as far as his knot will allow him before he buries himself deep, the tip pressing against your cervix as he releases himself inside of you. Hot, thick, sticky ropes of cum begin to flood into your needy cunt as lightly rocks himself inside of you, gritting his teeth as you tremble beneath him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” He continually growls out like a prayer as your fluttering walls coax more cum from him.

Your eyes roll upwards as the heat floods your cunt, making you squeeze your eyes shut and burying your face into his chest. You’re squeezing tightly around him, vice gripping him as he continues to relish in the feeling of your body holding him so tightly. You can barely think straight as his cock weeps more cum, threatening, and succeeding in filling you to your brim.

“Gods, you’re milking me,” he murmurs as he finally stops pumping you full of cum. “This… This is gonna take a while,” he says darkly in your ear.

“What?”

Jack nods down to where the two of you are still connected. “Gonna be a while.” He sighs, secures your legs to his waist, and then flips you over so you are resting on top of his chest. “Get comfortable.”

“How long..?”

“A while,” Jack awkwardly coughs. “It’s just uh, a knot thing, I guess?” He attempts to explain as you shift your hips deliciously, making him huff and his cock spurt more ropes of cum. He looks away in slight embarrassment. “You can sleep, if you want? Like I said, this is gonna be a while,” he finishes as his hand fishes around for a blanket as his other hand travels down your lower waist to finally cup your ass. He squeezes gently once he finally throws the blanket over the two of you.

“Or,” you say as you plant your hands firmly on his chest, gradually bringing yourself back up. “We can go again.”

Jack laughs. “And you called me a pervert.”

You lightly slap him and grind your hips slowly against him. “Shut up.”

#eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #nsft #creepypasta scenario #x reader #reader insert

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maxineswritingcenter · 3 years ago

Text

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 15

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

Derek and I had taken off after the Kanima on foot. Stiles and Scott followed in his Jeep. We made it to an abandoned parking lot, halting a moment.

“You stay behind and wait for Scott, I’ll follow the scent this way.” He took off over the fence as Stiles and Scott pulled up. Scott got out, and jumped over the fence. I followed behind him down the tunnel.

“Okay! I’ll be here!” I heard Stiles yelled. I caught up to Scott, and we both ran in the direction of hissing and growling.

“Where’s-” He came to a halt and froze. I skidded to a stop as well. Gerard Argent stood there, almost like he had been waiting. Well, there goes my alibi of not being a werewolf, but odds are he already knows. We took off in the opposite direction, eventually finding a boiler room below a nightclub.

“Why the hell is Gerard here?” I panted.

He shook his head, “I have no idea.”

“What do we do now?” We turned around and yelped. Stiles was standing behind us.

“Sorry, sorry.” He apologized, “Did you see where he went?”

“We lost him.” Scott panted, resting his head against the red brick wall.

“What? You can’t catch his scent?”

“I don’t think he has one.”

I leaned against the wall, “That’s how he gets the jump on us, we can’t smell him coming like any other werewolf.”

“Alright, any clue where he’s going?”

“To kill someone.” Scott narrowed his eyes at Stiles.

“ Ah. That explains the claws, and the fangs, and all that. Good. Makes perfect sense now. “ Stiles’ voice dripped with sarcasm. Scott continued to stare.

“What? Scott, come on. I'm one hundred and forty-seven pounds of pale skin and fragile bone- sarcasm is my only defense!”

I looked him up and down, “You’re only a hundred and forty-seven pounds? We gotta bulk you up for the finals, you’re gonna get killed out there.”

“Not the time for lacrosse advice, (Y/N).”

“Yup, got it.”

“Just help me find it.” Scott said, getting frustrated with our back and forth.

“Not “it”. Jackson.” Stiles corrected.

“Yeah, I know. I-I know.” Scott looked around the corner.

“All right, but does he know that? Did anybody else see him back at your house?” Stiles asked.

“Everyone who knew saw. Lydia missed it though.” I said, trying to hear anything.

“I mean, I don't think so, but he already passed Derek's test anyway.”

“Right, because that test was so accurate.” I smirked.

“But that's just the thing, how did he pass the test?” Stiles asked.

"I don't know." Scott said his favorite sentence. But the fact of the matter is, there were no answers for anything.

“Maybe it's like an either-or thing? I mean, Derek said that a snake can't be poisoned by its own venom, right? When is the Kanima not the Kanima?”

“...When it’s Jackson.” Scott and I said in unison. Stiles’ eyes went wide and his mouth was pressed firmly shut. I followed his gaze and gasped, quickly covering my mouth. Scott followed our gaze, seeing the slimy green tail of the kanima disappear into the attic of the club.

“He’s inside.” Scott said, staring up.

“What's he gonna do in there?” Stiles asked, peaking around my shoulder.

“Well, I don’t think he’s looking for a date.” I said, staring at where the kanima went inside.

"I know who he's after." Scott stared at the window.

"What? How? Did you smell something?" Stiles asked, staring at Scott.

"Armani." Scott stated. We moved around the corner and looked inside the window of the building. The origin of the Armani just happened to be Danny. He was walking towards the entrance of the club, named Jungle.

“Well... At least he’s getting out.” The corner of my mouth twitched up. We walked around to the other side of the club to the back door. Stiles attempted to open the back door, but alas it was locked.

“Ah come on.” Stiles groaned, backing away from the door and looking up, “ Alright, maybe there's, like, a uh-like, a window we could climb through, or some kind of-” Stiles was cut off by Scott ripping the handle off the door and handing it to Stiles.

“...Handle that we could rip off with supernatural strength? How'd I not think of that one?” He threw the handle over his shoulder. Why was this place familiar? We all walked into the club. As we got into the actual club, we stopped. The loud music and lights reminded me of a party from high school. There were four disco balls on the ceiling surrounding one large one in the middle of the room. Beams of colored light were bouncing off the sweaty club goers. There were aerial silk dancers throughout the room, there were also shirtless men dancing on tables. That’s why I recognized the name.

“Dude, everyone in here is a dude! I think we're in a gay club... “ Scott said, astutely observing his surroundings.” We turned back, looking at Stiles who was flocked by two drag queens.

“Man, nothing gets past those keen Werewolf senses, huh, Scott?” Stiles said sarcastically.

We managed to get Stiles away from the queens and over to the bar where we found Danny. But before I could make it there, another drag queen pulled me away from them.

“Miss girl.” She drawled. This queen was all pink. Pink acrylics, pink outfit, large poofy pink wig. Her makeup was very dramatic, but in an aesthetically pleasing way.

“Um... yes?” I cracked a nervous smile.

“Do you know where you are? Because the lesbian night club is a town over.” She pointed towards the door.

“I uh, my brother,” I pointed towards Stiles, “He just came out and was too nervous to come alone.”

“Oh, how sweet.” She said, looking over at Stiles. Stiles looked back at us. The queen smiled and winked, waving dramatically. Stiles smiled back nervously and waved before turning back to the conversation they were having.

“See, he said he wanted to go try to talk to someone alone, but he’s just so skittish.” I put my hands on my chest.

“Well good luck, doll.” She put a hand on my shoulder, “It is the beginning of a long journey.” I smiled, watching the queen walk away. I rushed back over to Stiles. Where he was unsuccessfully trying to get a drink. "Three beers." Stiles smiled. The bartender stared at us.

“IDs?” We all took out our respective IDs. He stared at them, then back at us.

“How about three cokes?” He asked.

“Rum and Cokes!” Stiles grinned, “Sure.” The bartender looked unamused.

“...Coke's fine, actually. I'm driving, anyway.” Stiles backed down. We turned around and waited, scanning the room.

“Your drinks are paid for.” We looked back at the bartender. He motioned his head to the end of the bar. There was an older man who smiled at us, toasting his beer to us.

“How bi.” I smiled, waving back. Stiles looked at Scott who was trying not to laugh.

“Awh, shut up.” Stiles glared.

“I didn’t say anything.” Scott said innocently.

“Well, your face did.” Stiles sneered, we looked back towards the dancefloor where we saw Danny dancing.

“Hey, I found Danny.” Stiles said.

“I found Jackson.” Scott said. We looked up, watching Jackson stalking the ceiling, twisting and turning through wires. Right above where Danny was dancing.

“Get Danny.” Scott said.

“What are ya gonna do?” Stiles asked as we watched Scott’s claws come out, “Works for me.” We started maneuvering our way towards Danny’s direction.

“Danny!” Stiles shouted over the music. Danny was dancing with a guy, but as we got closer, we lost sight of him.

“Danny!” Stiles called again. Smoke started coming down from the ceiling. Was there a fire? No, the smell wasn’t the same. That’s when the screaming started. I frantically looked around, trying to find anyone. Soon the smoke cleared, and there was a line of paralyzed men on the floor, Danny being one of them. “Danny!” I called. The music was shut down and the lights had come back on. I went down on my knees to check if he was breathing. He was looking around, fear in his eyes.

“(Y/N)?” He asked, his voice trembled.

“That’s right, Māhealani. I’m right here.” I smiled.

“What are you doing here?”

“Uhhh..” I looked around, “Stiles was questioning but... I think after tonight he’s gotten his answer.” I lied.

After questioning Danny, Scott made his way back to the jeep. I was sitting in the back, looking back at a very naked Jackson who they had found in the back of the club; naked and covered in blood and black goo.

“Couldn't get anything outta Danny." He said.

“Okay, can we just get the hell out of here now, before one of my dad's deputies sees me?” Stiles said anxiously. Stiles started the Jeep, but a police cruiser pulled in front of the Jeep, keeping us from our escape.

“...Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Could this get any worse?” Stiles groaned. Suddenly, Jackson groaned and sat up.

“That was rhetorical!” Stiles sighed. We turned back towards the cop car. Scott pointed to the car, “Get rid of him.”

“Get rid of him? We're at a crime scene, and he's the Sheriff!” Stiles said anxiously.

“Shit.” I ducked down, realizing that if Uncle Noah saw me, it was going to be even more awkward.

“Do something!” Scott motioned with his arms. Stiles fumbled with the door handle and got out.

Jackson sat up in the back, “Wha-...What’s going on?” I pushed him back down.

“Jackson. Jackson, be quiet.” Scott said urgently. He looked towards Stiles, then back to me.

“Why didn’t you get out with Stiles?”

“We’re not attached at the hip, ya know.” I avoided the question.

“You know what I mean.”

I sighed, chewing on the inside of my cheek, “I got into a fight with his dad. I told him that he wasn’t my dad and to stop acting like it.”

“A little harsh.” He titled his head.

“I am aware of that-” Jackson tried to sit up again.

“What’s going on?” He groaned, holding his head.

“I’m sorry, Jackson.” He punched Jackson in the jaw, sending him back down.

“Ow.” Scott winced, waving his hand.

“Don’t be sorry. I’ve been wanting to do that this entire year.” I grinned, a little impressed.

Stiles came back shortly, not saying a word as he started Roscoe and drove out of the parking lot.

“What’d you tell him?” I asked, leaning between the seats.

“I told him we took Danny clubbing because of Damon.” He sighed.

“Excellent.”

Stiles and Scott dropped me off at Scott’s house so I could get to my car and drive it back to the railroad depot. I needed to talk to Derek about what had happened tonight, if he missed it that was. He seemed to disappear after we split up.

I need to apologize. But he also needed to explain himself. What if he had gotten to Lydia that night and killed her, what did he think I would do, accept that, especially since he was wrong? I got inside, I went up to Derek’s room. He was lounging on his bed, looking at the photos. He looked up from the photos, avoiding my gaze.

“Derek, I’m sorry that I was trying to distract you... But I didn’t know what else I could do to stop you from killing Lydia.” I walked in, sitting on the edge of the bed, “I don’t know why she failed your test either, she must be... I don’t know, immune or something else that is immune.”

“You’re right, okay? I should have trusted your instincts.” He said, setting the pictures on the bed in front of him. I moved closer, looking at them again. He had the pictures of us together. There were three teens in the picture. Me, another girl, and Derek. She had long, dark brown hair, kind brown eyes with a very distinct beauty mark under her right eye. Flashes of her face filled my mind, smiling, laughing.

“Wait... Do I know her?” I picked up the picture, “I do know her.... That’s Paige.” Derek’s emotions rose higher: guilt and sadness. Looking back at him, I saw his face. He looked so broken.

“Derek, what’s wrong? Did something happen to Paige?” I asked. He leaned back against the wall.

“You were friends. She was my girlfriend.” He sighed, “She was bitten by another alpha. And she was rejecting the change. I killed her to put her out of her misery.”

“Der...” I reached out, putting a hand on his knee. Derek sat up quickly, moving the pictures onto a box next to his bed. He pulled me closer, hugging me close to him. He rested his head against my shoulder, breathing deeply. I sighed, lightly brushing my fingers over his knuckles. Derek was followed by tragedy, plagued by guilt and fear.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered.

“It’s fine, you didn’t remember.”

“Not about Paige, about everything. I just wished I could remember so I could help you more. It isn’t fair that you’re going through all of this by yourself.”

“I’m not alone.” He picked his head up off my shoulder. He brought his hand up, turning my head so I could see his eyes, “I have you. And that’s all I need.” My lips pulled up in a smile, turning so I was kneeling between his legs.

“I love you.” The words fell off my lips like they had always been there.

He grinned, “I love you.” His lips brushed against mine with every syllable. He pressed his lips to mine.

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

Read part 16 here!

This one is a little shorter because... There really is no reason, it be like that sometimes.

Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are appreciated!

Message me or comment below to be added to the taglist!

YSM Tag:

@nyotamalfoy

@fruitloopzzz

@babygirl-angel-love

@aestheticeggs

@akuri-shinsou

@geli2297

@coruscaret

#derek hale x reader #derek hale fic #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf fic

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seijorhi · 3 years ago

Text

asks :))

what i have learned today is that y’all wanna get fucked by some monsters...

What does nostos mean? What language is it in? 🤔 also I of course loved it, mind blown as usual queen

it’s ancient greek! it means homecoming, the idea of a triumphant return home for the hero after a long journey. i found it through looking at the root of nostalgia. in this fic of course it’s kind of a grim tongue in cheek play on it. the reader’s coming back to the mountains, but she’s running away after a bad breakup, and the welcome she gets is... shall we say less than ideal haha

Just read nostos-

First of all as a person who reads monster shit- hell ya. Mhm. That’s some good shit right there. That was DELICIOUS horror. It actually had me a bit nervous and afraid to read what was gonna happen next 😳

Secondly- omg I wanna know what happened next (at the end) 👀 know what I mean??? 😼

ANYWAY AS ALWAYS you never disappoint and your writing is fantastic (if/when you write horror yandere stuff again I’ll be there- frothing at the mouth. A+++++ work ILY💖)

you want me to write the monster porn, just say it bby ghfjdkshgfjkd but ty

Omfg that fic was so good!

Did the readers mom know about monster kuroo?? Or was she just worried because of the previous murder? And did Kuroo somehow manipulate reader into coming back to the forest or was it just a big coincidence? (👁👄👁 there's no such thing as a coincidence)

Looking forward to your future work <3

ty nonnie!! i didn’t have the right space for it, but after kohsuke was ripped apart and eaten kuroo stayed by the reader’s side until late in the night, only disappearing when he heard the reader’s parents/search party approaching. they found her lying in pools of blood (and scattered half eaten body parts), shaking and unresponsive – they knew no animal could’ve done something like that. so they knew something lurked in those woods, but considering the reader had repressed the memories, her mom couldn’t just come out and say it <33

You are an AMAZING horror writer!!!

The uneasiness I got from the conversations with the mom is just *chefs kiss*

A+++++

ahh thank you!! horror is such a hard genre to write because i’m never sure if the suspense and everything’s gonna hit right haha

I read Nostos before going to sleep last night and at the time I was like “sure hope this doesn’t give me nightmares” and thankfully it didn’t lol. But I think I’m willing to take that chance again because it’s so GOOD and I think I’m just going to have to relive it – @ohno-otome

fhdjgbfhjkdfn i’m glad it didn’t give you nightmares bby!! but i also appreciate that haha, i’m an absolute wimp with scary movies and stuff but i just can’t stop watching them haha

I just wanna say that I was listening to "You're a psychotic villain playlist" on youtube while reading Kuroo's oneshot and I can't explain the emotions I felt, but I'd let Kuroo do things to me asdfghjkl – @itishebihime-samaforyou

ooh nice! sometimes the right playlist makes things doubly as fun haha

OH MY GOD!?!?! Nostos was soooo GOOD?!?!? Like it was so creepy (but in a good way), and scary and suspenseful!! And the ending!?!? Omggg honestly one my fav fics from you!! You did my mans Kuroo justice 🥺💖💕

TYYYYYYY i was genuinely concerned i was gonna scare everybody off haha

Ah! The new fic! Chiefs kiss! Magnificent! Bravo!🧚‍♀️✨🧞‍♀️🦖🦭🌹💫

tysm nonnie!!! <33

i’m pretty sure i’m in the same/similar timezone as you? and i do be staying up late to be one of the first to read your fics (i usually stay up late anyways). so imagine my surprise when i see you post in the afternoon. in conclusion, whether you post to align with your european and american readers’ timezone, my gmt+10 arse will still be one of the first to read your fics. also nostos sjdufigyyjf i have to admit, i recently just found out about monster fucking and nostos scratched the itch😫 i feel bad for kohsuke though

bby i always post at like 2-4 in the morning please get some sleep!! the fics will be there in the morning lmao. i kinda low key forget about my aussie/gmt+10 followers because i think there’s like... 3 of you haha

Honestly if i could give u a dollar everytime i got off to your fics, you'd probably be rich by now

lmao the idea that people find my fics hot enough to get off to still blows my mind lol

your newest kuroo fic was so SO good!! its totally okay if you dont want to answer this so you can keep things ambiguous but is monster kuroo planning on killing the reader after he's...done with them

thank you, bby!! but no, monster kuroo isn’t gonna eat her – he’s had plenty of chances to do that if that’s what he wanted, but he has other plans for the poor reader

RHI, I WANT TO STATE FOR THE RECORD THAT I AM OKAY WITH MORE MONSTER FUCKING IN THE FUTURE. i also want to say im not a monster fucker, but that just feels like a lie at this point. okay, now that that's off my chest, i love it. the mystery, the connections of kuroo to a cat. kuroo's probably gonna go and batter around his prey once they're under his grip like my cat does. hopefully the reader will come out somewhat unscathed, if they are ever allowed to leave 😌 love this, love how different it is, the way kuroo just tries to weasel in. very monster and yandere vibes, very you. have i said i love this yet?? id willingly let him get me drunk on his cock, maybe never leave the peace of the mountains again

‘i want to say that i’m not a monster fucker’ bby the denial will get you nowhere haha. just lean in and embrace it hgfjkdlkfgjnkdl ahh but thank you this is such a sweet ask ILY!!!

Omg omg the monster thing kuroo was in ur latest fic is so familiar to me abdhdmfnjfjf. I remember being told abt a monster with VERY SIMILAR characteristics to it (aka the not being able to go inside a house unless invited and using fire to lure ppl out) AND JFC IT TERRIFIED ME. Esp how when i told ppl around me and they didnt recognize what it was, but it was somehow known to the kid that told me abt it.

(Some ppl thought it was familiar but still didnt know what it was)

Do u know what im talking abt? Hopefully u do

-🥚

GHFJDK so the monster in this is kind of based off the nekomata spirit in japanese folklore - they can appear like people, torment victims by reanimating the corpses of their loved ones, they’ve been blamed for forest fires, so it was just fun to use that as a basis and then go buck wild haha. anyway thanks for the ask bby!

Rest In Peace Kohsuke, you would’ve loved Haikyuu season 5😔✊– @joyvstheworld

poor kohsuke deserved better, i’m just mean to the oc’s i throw into fics haha

Monsterfucking ❤❤❤❤❤❤ a little annoyed you're making me simp for yan Kuroo though (a vibe tho tbh). You're so extremely talented!!!! &

This is probably a stupid question, but how did Kageyama react when he couldn't find y/n? How is life with yan Suga? I imagine probably awful BUT yknow maybe the stockholm syndrome set in fast lmao. Sorry, I'm going on a binge reading your stuff. - @oracleofdin

i will not apologise for making you simp for kuroo he deserves it the man’s a snacc. and as far as your second question, suga’s a very caring, very smothering kinda yandere, so i guess in some ways it’s better than what the reader had with kageyama but... pick your poison haha

That was so good. I’m so shook rn I can’t comprehend anything but how good that was and how good a writer you are

TYSM NONNIE!!! <33

Ok, so, I just read Final Girl and the lil' ticket addition to it and just---

Well, ok I've been playing Dead by Daylight a lot lately? And I'm just picturing Tetsu as the newest killer "The Trickster" and I'm positively RANDY.

Your writing is ALREADY thirst inducing and just as satisfying, but this has SENT ME- If you're not familiar, please...

https://youtu.be/iowkiPobYYQ

Understand my thirst. (I'd also like to clarify, I use a different skin for him that gives him black hair and he looks like Kuroo with an undercut.)

~ @the-casual-hedonist 🌸

i love how feral y’all got for final girl kuroo. like bo and akaashi had his fans, but i put a spiked bat in kuroo’s hands and y’all lost your goddamn minds and i love to see it. fghdjkvhfjdkls thanks for the ask bby

idk why but I love preggo reader as long as I don't pretend it's me 😢✋ I hate babies n pregnancy anywhere else other than horny haikyuu fics

i think that’s a valid thing for a lot of fans. the idea of breeding is sexy, the actual getting pregnant and having a kid thing... not so much. but especially with non-con scenario’s, it’s more about the aspect on control than the actual desire to have kids. but yeah, i feel you

Sorry to bother but uh was just wondering in fracture did Osamu kill his wife or was it actually an “unfortunate event” ? Love your work btw!!

he most certainly did :))

LMFAO RHI i totally get not liking cheating/infidelity fics (towards reader) bc IT HIRTS ME SO BAD I CANNOT HANDLE THOSE.

id be reading fics those fics like: tf you mean my yandere aimt gonna baby me and only want me??🤨🤨🤨⁉️‼️

EXACTLY! listen i get that it’s a fucked up fantasy, but in my fucked up fantasy you damn well better have the decency to be loyal smh

Finders keepers is the most beautiful thing I've read by you: I read it twice like I normally do and here's what I figured out the second time (that's when I analyze it and find the little tidbits of things that are much darker than they appear (: )

To start I LOVE THE DETAILS OF THEM NEVER TEACHING READER ANYTHING- at first I assumed "oh they might see her as a little sister or child or something" but realized thAT WAS THE ISSUE!! they infantilize her and isolate her from everyone but her group. the small details like that are what make the story amazing 😎💅

ahh thank you so much, nonnie!! pls this is making me soft 🥺

I just wanted to stop by and say that I love your writing and I hope you're doing well!!! Drink plenty of water and keep up the amazing work :) but seriously you're one of the best fanfic writers I've seen on tumblr! I read your "Imitation" piece about kuroo and i keep coming back to it, it's so good! I did want to ask if you think it'd be possible for the reader to ever escape with the baby (or at least attempt to). Or if Kenma would "help" at all just to put an end to kuroo's antics lmao

kenma would in no way help the reader, and tbh by that point if kuroo did get her pregnant, she’d be far too emotionally dependant on him to actually even want to leave, but thanks for the ask!

You know who I think would be a perfect Yandere in the JJK world? Choso.

🚨Spoilers Ahead🚨

After being locked in a glass jar for however long he was, and all that happened with his brothers, I feel like he would absolutely never let his darling out of his sight. He would be possessive. Obsessive. And Oh So delusional. Sure he’d be your anything - he truly is a softy - but to what end?🤤

choso would make an excellent yandere, ngl 😌

what au/troupe of your fav character(s) that you have written do you like the most?

(rlly hope this makes sense🙏)

i am always a slut for soulmate au’s :))

#ask #anon #rhi answers #ohh so many asks #i love you guys <33 #fic q's

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 4 years ago

Text

Something more than Dreaming (One Shot)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Warnings: weird dreams. Panic blushing

Word Count: It feels so weird to work in an office which has one-fourth of the workload of your previous office (though this one has ten times the responsibility, coz I am the head here). Anywhooo, I am in a place where there is no booze, no bars, no friends. :/

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The lights are a mixture of all the flavours the Gods can taste on their tongue. The seventy-five coloured rainbow seems like the perfect vibe for the buzz that is setting in on the nerves currently. Bass-boosted music and the cool air running through the building filled with heated, sweat-ridden bodies is driving everyone up on a new high. Wait. Is everyone feeling the same high? Or is it just me? Before that sharp brain of his can evaluate the situation, a new beat is hitting him hard along with the scene he witnesses unfolding in front of him. There in the unruly crowd of drunk and horny strangers, seven hottest aliens dance along with the one person his eyes seem to be searching for. You.

It's not good enough for me, since I been with you It's not gonna work for you, nobody can equal me

Everything else fades away in the background- and he is convincing himself that it is because his senses are heightened in a dark place filled with lunatics- and the only focus is you. That is what he repeats to himself when his eyes land on the movement of your fingers in your hair; that is what he is singing internally when watching you pout and bite your lip makes him gulp.

I'm gonna sip on this drink when I'm fucked up I should know how to pick up

That is what he wants to smack into his head when he feels his body gravitate in your direction while you are swinging your hips in a way he feels should be considered a sin; a sweet seductive sin.

I'm gonna catch the rhythm while she push up against me Ooh, and she tipsy

He keeps denying the internal dialogue of feeling jealous with all these strangers around you all this time, and still cannot get his icy glare off anyone who gets even an inch closer to you. At one point he is happy to see the boys be distracted by the light show that begins at the bar. That is until he sees something he does not like. He does not even realise the eyes he turns with those veins popping out of his arms and neck, neither does he acknowledge the dangerous vibe he gives off that automatically clears his path to you to remove that excuse of a lizard trying to prey on you from your back. With one tight hold on his neck, he is making that pervy lizard writhe and struggle where he stands, making him shed his skin with just the poisonous look in those green eyes. That devilish glare is enough to send that creature running. Once he is convinced there is no sign of any more ill intentions, he turns back to the most unaware person in the world- you, of course- and watches you struggling to twerk.

I had enough convo for 24 I peep'd you from across the room Pretty little body, dancing like GoGo, aye

There is a minute pause when he tries to absorb what exactly it is that you are trying to do and has to question how you are the same person he saw dancing so effortlessly a few seconds ago. Just when his patience runs out, he grabs your hand and takes you away, walking through the dispersing crowd without looking back till he finds the darkest corner in this excuse of a building and pushes you towards it. He can easily assess that with the amount of bao-bao in your system, you won't struggle. And you don't. Your back is against the wall and by the time you can ask him- in between the giggles- what was going on, you find those familiar arms caging you from either side.

But you are unforgettable I need to get you alone Why not?

The bubbles of fun are suddenly popping from the heat your whole body feels at once with Loki's body so close to yours. That perfect mess that is his hair is covering his face while eyes are stuck on you. His brows are struggling to loosen themselves up and his breaths are shallow.

A fucking good time, never hurt nobody I got a little drink but it's not Bacardi

You can tell he has been sweating, for you can smell his very intense natural odour- something you have become quite familiar with on this space trip; the trip that continues to make you conscious about your own body's smell now that you do not have any deodorants to cover it up. You can also tell there is something wrong with the way his veins are popping in his neck- though you do not refrain from admitting to yourself that it kinda makes him look hot. Very hot.

If you loved the girl then I'm so, so sorry I got to give it to her like we in a marriage

You know it is that bao-bao making you so bold but you could swear to all the powers in the universe you want to take a chance. The thought is tempting and fun to fantasise about till you realise that his hands have come close enough to brush against your arms and the mere touch is sending an unfathomable buzz up and down your body. "Loki-" is all you struggle to get out of your dry throat that is thirsting for things it should not be. And to add to these strange waves crashing inside your limbs, he brings his face closer to yours. You know your heart has taken a dive and your lungs are fluttering with that sweet scent of alcohol that brushes on your lips with his sigh. So close is his face that you can spot every single cell of flawlessness on his skin. Is this really happening?

Oh, like we in a hurry No, no I won't tell nobody

It feels like he can hear your thoughts for his hand comes to pick those sweaty stray strands of your hair away from your face and behind your ear. This is really happening. The world is swirling all around you. So are your breaths when they see those wanting lips come closer. Not able to take this twist along with the stuff you are high on, you close your eyes and wait with parted lips.

You're on your level too Tryna do what lovers do

The fire inside his gut is driving him closer to you even though his sanity is questioning every logical reason behind this. But that sweet scent coming off you is clouding every possible sane answer there could be. That's the thing. He does not want to be sane anymore. What is the advantage in that anyway? His hand is moving on its own, catching his breath when he feels your heated skin on the back of his fingers while brushing away those hair strands that are driving him mad for making you look so...he dare not say such things even to himself- that make him feel things. And boy, does he not like feeling things, especially such things. Oh, lords be praised! He loves the way your gaze is struggling to rest at one place, walking all over his eyes to his jaw before settling on his lips. And then closing themselves shut. He does not know whether that is an invitation or not. But looks like this sweet alcohol is making him bold. So, this is what alcohol really does to you, huh, he wonders, thanking the maker for this ale that was able to make a God feel the buzz. ... Wait. I am feeling the buzz. His own statement makes him blink out of the drunken trance for a second. "Why did the beer taste sweet?" his suspicion speaks. That suspicion is quickly turned right when he sees your meek smile and feels the floor beneath his feet sweep him face down into the ground. "Oh f-"

The boy band patiently sits in the lounge in their own particular ways. While one is sipping on their drink, the other has got their face in their palms. One has that mischievous smirk on his face and the one sitting next to him is gazing with a look of pure confusion. One has got his brow up while tapping his lips with his index and the other one is pushing two glasses of- what looks like- water towards the one particular side. And their captain is just plain tired at this point, looking at the ones who are their centre of attention. You and Loki.

You sway to and fro on the couch while Loki sits next to you with his head in his palms, his eyes lost in a void, given up on this world. You are pouting by this point, looking at the empty table in the middle of the crowd of you nine. "So...are we going to order food soon?" You had to ask. You feel a movement from your left and are nervous to look in that direction, whining internally when Loki drowns you in his judgmental gaze. "I'm hungry," you mutter as you look down. "I don't think you're getting any food today, Princess," Violet mentions, turning all the heads to him. "What, I was just translating what Loki's eyes are saying." "But I'm hungryyy," you cry. Loki closes his eyes and sighs. "Serves you right to starve." Violet carries on with his translation. "Stop it," Loki commands with his eyes still shut. "Okay." "Why did you spike his drink though?" Green asks put loud, making it hard for you to get away from all those curious eyes. You shrug. "I just thought it'd be fun. Loki will let his hair down and, I don't know, dance." "From the looks of it, it was gonna be more than a dance." "What?" "I said from the looks of it Loki can't dance." Loki pretends to have not heard White's word but narrows his eyes at him when he gets the chance. "Relax-" White gestures you two to drink the water-like liquid- "both of you are on the fourth stage. One more and it'll wear off like it was never there." "What's the fifth stage?" you tilt your head while your hands are squeezing your abdomen. "And how do you know about these stages?" "The Bao-Baos are our people's speciality," all seven of them say in sync, leaving you a little speechless. "So what's the fif-" You pause and never come back to the sentence. Your eyes are looking at infinity, seemingly lost in a trance, your body has let go of all the tightness, easing into the couch. Loki turns to watch the slow transformation. Anyone can tell from the look on his face that the word 'worried' right now begins and ends on you. He also knows that with that metabolism of his, he is going to hit that stage you are in, in no time. And so he goes, letting his trance begin while his gaze is still settled on you. There is a pause around the table as seven pairs of eyes observe the both of you. "Alright boys-" White slaps his thighs- "you know what to do." All of them get up with different tasks in mind. Violet takes two fuzzy blankets out of nowhere to put them around you and Loki. Green lights a candle and puts it a little close to the side where his tranced bunnies sit. Orange takes the charge to put headphones on and takes a few seconds to decide whether to put on his romance playlist or horror playlist. Red and Yellow draw the curtains to the private lounge while Sky puts shades on you and Loki before tucking a plushy under your arm, Loki's arm and handing one to Lulu as well. "Perfect," White announces, "now let's have some fun till they sober up." He calls for Lulu- who readily jumps and settles on his shoulder- and goes out into the crowd with his brothers, leaving the two of you to go through the final stage of your colourful high.

You The music is a soft melody with a depth given to the bass, and you can automatically tell there is a touch of Galimatias in there somewhere. Blinking and feeling the environment around you, you find yourself out in the open, an unlit paper lamp in your hand surrounded by the building and creatures you were just dancing around. This cannot be real, is just a passing thought in your mind, never given the weight it deserves. Why? Because you are already distracted by the pairs sitting on the grass under the shimmering night sky and oil lamps either hung on the trees, rested on rock piles or kept safely on the grass. The scenic beauty is too romantic and the smell of vanilla burning somewhere is bringing up emotions you wanted to keep hidden from the world for some time more. If it isn't for the voice that calls out for you from behind, you are quite sure another minute would have ended in tears. "Is this the spot?" You know the voice all too well to turn around voluntarily but a part of your subconscious itches at this new wavelength you feel in that very sound. That silken voice that has a veil over it suddenly seems...free. And to add to your surprise, the God of Mischief who adores the shades of gold, green and black is out of the blue walking towards you in a white shirt and blue jeans. Are those ripped jeans? And did he just tie his hair back? You are in the middle of thinking about this new persona when you are pushed into the river of questions with that slight tilt of his head and a huge smile. If only you could see the look on your face like Loki 2.0 was seeing right now. Your frown; your wrinkled nose and those lips turned as if they have tasted something sour. "What?" He laughs. "You're laughing?" Your gasp of unbelief is not making it easy for the God. "I just asked you if we're sitting here and you looked at me as if I was some strange alien." He shakes his head. So do you- at the fact that you could see his teeth throughout that sentence. "It's just-" you lick your lips and try to move a liiiittle back, away from him- "I've never seen you smile this much, let alone laugh." He breaks in a giggle, making you pause your breath. "Staahhp," he nearly sings and pokes you on your collar, trying to act all shy, forcing you to wonder if he is an imposter. "Okay, something is definitely of-faa-" The distraction in front of you makes you miss the end of the stone beneath your step, almost sending you down seven feet but Loki is quick to catch you by your hand and pulling in towards him by your waist. Ah. Now, this chest to chest nearness is quite familiar. So is that scent that naturally lingers on him. It is him. More or less.

Loki The illuminated aquatic ball gets a red and yellow micro planet down the hole. The tentacled pink alien grumbles something at his opponent, breaks his cue stick and stomps out of the bar. A nonchalant chuckle comes of that very opponent as he straightens himself after those smooth three shots. "Come back when you are old enough to stop whining." "One Midgardian Sex on the Beach for Loki," the waitress sings before setting the twirling glass down beside his cue stick and walking away- but not before she has felt that ass on her fingers. There is not much colour on his face except for a tired look in his eyes when he feels those intruding hands on his jeans. "Get those hands away be-" "Before he cuts them off clean." Loki has to turn to find the source of the voice that is somewhat quite usual to his ears. And when he does, the waitress is forgotten right at that moment, for all his senses are on you. You stand at the entrance facing Loki, who has to take a lungful of this musty bar air to come to terms that the person wearing a generous amount of kajal and smokey eyes is you. That smile on your lips assures him that. But the outfit brings back some more questions. All black. Those jeans- black. That tank top- black. That leather jacket- black. Those high boots- black. Those belt accessories hanging off those thighs- wait, they actually look good on her. And is that a nose ring? Your steps come to a halt right in front of the God; the very God who stands there nearly toppling over his cue stick. Your fingers take the liberty to tap him under the chin and draw yourself close enough. "Better keep that butt safe from unwanted hands before I claw someone for even looking at them," you whisper before pretending to bite him and walking away with his drink. The chill around his neck does not subside even after you're gone. And he is still wondering just one thing. "What kind of bao-bao did she eat now?"

You "What?" "...Nothing." Loki smiles and tries to hide his face in his hair. "Why are you looking at me like that?" It's no lie. You have been staring at Loki for the past twenty minutes with a smile on your face. You are sitting the same way you were sitting when he longingly looked at a couple making out, or when he moaned while eating a burger, or when he said you looked pretty in the moonlight. "I am wondering," you hum, letting your arm cradle your head, your gaze still stuck on him. "Wondering what." Loki mirrors you. "How amazing you are," you sigh, closing your eyes, "and yet I miss my Loki."

Loki "Are you comfortable in those?" He is still getting used to your eyes following every single hot body that passes by the room, checking them out without any restraints. Your eyes finally come back to him and find him pointing at your outfit. "Why? You wanna borrow them for the night?" Your suggestive voice raises the God's brows and forces him to inhale through his mouth before blowing all that air out. "I will just borrow my own drink for now," he acknowledges while taking his cocktail and downing it in huge gulps, all the while you sit there with your legs apart, resting quite casually with your arms on the bar table. Breathing in through your teeth you lick your lips. "You are looking quite yummy today, Loki-" you tilt your head and smirk with your eyes- "wonder how you'll look on that pool table there." "Quite heavy on top of you," he quips, feeling a burp come up. His arms go past you to keep the glass over the tabletop when he feels your legs wind themselves around his to pull him closer. "What makes you think you'll get to the top?" you point out while playing with his belt loops. Loki looks at you for one long minute. Eventually, he lets his hand set those two hair strands in their place, every from those side braids that add something to your look which clearly does something to Loki. "As painfully lovely as that offer is," Loki hums and looks right into your eyes, "I feel I should rather bear with the Y/N I know."

You wake up with a jolt to the bass-boosted music thumping outside. Removing the shades and rubbing your eyes you nearly slip your lenses out. "Fuck," you mumble under your breath before realising you had been drooling. On Loki's shirt. Your fingers work discreetly to wipe that drool off his black shirt. "You are buying me a new one." His voice reverberates in your ear that is closer to his chest, sending goosebumps down your body. Slowly moving away from his chest to sit straight, you wipe the marks of your saliva away from your lips and clear your throat. Loki clears his throat and snaps the knots in his neck and then removes his shades. "I didn't realise when I fell asleep," you mumble as your fingers move through your hair to straighten them out. "Probably went through the last stage," Loki insists, removing any wrinkles from his shirt and finding something resembling a plushy under his arm. "Which was one bizarre dream," he mutters. "Felt like a weird dream," you utter. Both of you freeze for a short second at the synchronisation of your thoughts, turning to face each other for one fleeting moment. As if looking into each other's eyes opens certain doors that did not seem to be there before, both of you turn away to hide your heated faces- questioning whether the other one knows something. You busy your hands to move your hair behind your ears. Loki pulls at his cuffs before trying to scratch an itch in the back of his head. You move the blanket over you closer to your chest before wanting to bury your face in it. Loki tries to play with the plushy's head, trying his best to check if he could see you from the corner of his eyes. "Do you wear white?" You blurt out without a warning and it is only later that your eyes are popping out as words register in your mind. "What?" Loki is confused. He blinks and tilts his head a bit. "Uhh, no. I...don't." He does not know why he is answering that question. "Do you have a naval piercing?" He asks, genuinely curious; more like cautious. "God no," you gasp, feeling your hand go over your naval to check. You blow out some of that hot air burning inside you. Loki inhales, trying to look at anything but you. "Have you ever tried braiding your hair?" Even though it is an interesting question, it is a bit strange coming from Loki. "Like, like those side braids?" You ask softly, showing him a rough example on your hair. Loki nods. "No-" you shake your head- "but it'll look good on you." Loki nods. "You too. It will look great on you as well." "And a bun at back will look good on you as well." A minute or two passes as you two sit there awkwardly, trying to find something to talk about. You look at your wrist to watch the time before realising you are not wearing a watch. Loki is scratching an itch on his palm as he tries to come up with a strategy. "Oh!" you jolt up in your seat at a sudden realisation. "the kids!" "Hmm?" "We should find Lulu and Javier." "Oh! Yes!" Loki nods and gathers the blankets and the headphones, keeping them at one side before getting up with you. "We should find them and get back home." "I hope they are okay." "They better be okay or I will kill those colourful bastards for neglecting the kids in their care." And off you two go into the alien rave, thinking the new door has been shut for good, never anticipating the events that are about to come that would change the whole dynamic of many relationships.

#loki #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki fanfic #loki series #mcu loki #loki fluff #loki feels #loki smut #loki fanfiction #fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fluff #marvel smut #It's The Avengers #fluff #smut #loki smile

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andyet-here-we-are · 4 years ago

Text

Head Over Feet

Words: 4,057 Chapters: 1/1

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

A/N: Thanks @3tothe1 for checking my errors. You are the best, sweetheart.

Additional Tags: Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, but not that much angst etc so no worries, Fluff, Geralt writes a song for Jaskier, Geralt sings to Jaskier, mention of nightmares, Happy Ending

I hope you enjoy reading this, my dear Witchlings! 💛

(P.S: I highly recommend listening to Jonah Platt’s “Head Over Feet” cover since I was inspired by it, but shhh, we’re gonna pretend that Geralt wrote that song.)

***

“No, Jaskier. I won’t fucking sing. You better stop waiting for it.”

“But Geralt!” Jaskier whined, “You promised me!”

Yeah, right. The promise Jaskier wasn’t supposed to hear in the first place.

The promise Geralt was more than glad he had heard nevertheless.

“And now I’m saying that won’t happen.”

About two weeks ago, being the foolish, brave bard he was, Jaskier had tried to distract a Slezaerek so Geralt could kill it effortlessly. It had worked, but not without a cost, sadly.

Jaskier was hurt in the progress of doing that, and “Witchers don’t have feelings” his ass, Geralt was more than terrified that he was going to lose his little hummingbird for good this time.

“Just keep your eyes open, please,” the Witcher had almost begged as he tore a strip from his already ripped doublet and tied it cautiously around Jaskier’s wound to stop the bleeding.

“You need to keep your beautiful eyes open, understood? Jaskier? Do you understand?”

He wasn’t supposed to sleep. He shouldn’t. Because the thing with Sleazaeraks was, getting bitten by one meant there was no waking up ever again if you fell asleep.

Too bad the poison they had in them was enough to put a whale to sleep.

“And w-what’s in it for me?” was Jaskier’s answer, eyes already heavy with sleep. The antidote the Witcher made him drink wasn’t near enough to what he needed, yet he still hoped that it would be enough to keep Jaskier awake for a while.

“Keep your damn eyes open,” Geralt wanted to say.

And maybe the old Geralt, who rarely expressed his feelings to anyone unless those feelings had gotten something to do with anger, would say that.

But what left his mouth instead was: “I’ll sing a song for you if you hang on, if you don’t fall asleep. Just hang on till I get you to a healer.”

“Promise..?” The bard’s eyes had closed for a second before he revealed his baby blues to Geralt again, “you have to promise. It feels so tempting to sleep right now, my dear. You–”

“I promise. Hang on for me, little hummingbird. You always wanted to hear me sing, right? You have to hang on then.”

Thanks to all the gods in every religion -if they even really existed- Jaskier had managed to stay awake with Geralt’s help.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life!” Jaskier walked towards him with loud and determined steps, breaking the Witcher away from his thoughts.

“You have been waiting for only two weeks. Don’t be dramatic.”

“No, I’m not being dramatic, I’m being honest. You stop talking rubbish. I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life!” Jaskier insisted with a little, cute frown, making Geralt let out a small chuckle.

Yennefer rolled his eyes at the bard, “Ever the dramatic. Also, honest? Really? You are the most dishonest person if your songs are anything to go by.”

“You. Lying. Snowman.” The dramatic bard in question ignored her, poking Geralt’s chest with his index finger between every word. “I knew it, I fucking knew you wouldn’t keep your promise! I should have just kept my eyes closed!”

“Don’t say that.” The Witcher said. “You…”

“You wouldn’t be here now if you did,” was unheard. But Jaskier understood anyway.

“At least I wouldn’t have to witness such a– such a betrayal!”

Instead of saying something, Geralt looked at Yennefer, she gave him a knowing look in return -which Jaskier didn’t miss, of course-

“Wait a minute, you’re hiding something!”

“Yeah, his desire for killing you so you would finally stop nagging like a bitch,” Yennefer sighed tiredly, clearly feeling a bit annoyed by Jaskier’s antics.

“I’m not hiding something,” he lied.

He was definitely hiding something, but Jaskier didn’t need to know that.

Not yet.

“I hate my life sometimes,” the bard kept complaining, crossing his arms and finally accepting that he wasn’t going to hear Geralt singing today: “Anyway, I’m not cooking today, you are on your own.”

“And how is that supposed to be a threat? Jask, no offence, but even Ciri cooks better than you. We nearly had food poisoning the last time you tried to cook.”

“I’m sorry. What do you mean by even?” came Ciri’s voice.

Well, fuck. He probably shouldn’t have said that.

“Hey, I’m gonna go take a walk, wanna come?” Jaskier asked Ciri before Geralt could answer Ciri’s question.

“He is trying to save my ass even when he is mad at me,” Geralt thought, looking at the bard with such a loving look, but then the other man added: “Betrayed people gotta stick together, you know,” and that loving look immediately turned into a “Disappointed But Not Surprised” look.

“Sure,” agreed Ciri, giving Geralt a meaningful look before she disappeared into the woods with Jaskier.

“Wow, you really have no idea how to talk a lady. Also, you better figure out how to complete that song before your bard gives you another tantrum and crush his lute over your head or something,” said Yennefer

“Helpful as always, Yen.”

He couldn’t deny that she was right, though.

***

After spending six more nights to complete his song, Geralt was finally ready to fulfill his promise finally.

It was certainly going to be a big surprise for Jaskier since Geralt had made it clear that he wouldn’t sing. And just three days ago, Jaskier had apologized to him.

“I’m sorry that I kinda overreacted before,” he had said. “Okay, not kinda. But I just… I’ve always wondered what your singing voice sounds like, so when you said you weren’t going to sing, I felt disappointed. Anyway, I wrote a new song, you wanna hear?”

So, yeah. He was gonna be so surprised.

And oh God, he had no idea how Jaskier could do it before so many people. “Having the voice of an angel probably helps,” his mind suggested not-so-helpfully.

He had an audience of three people, three people that mean the world to him, and he was already stressed as hell. He would rather sing to an Ethereal instead.

The Witcher didn’t even know how to do this. How should he start? By saying “I’ve written a song for you,” or by singing out of the blue? Should he stand while singing? Or is it a better idea to just sit?

And for God’s sake, where should he put his damn hands?

Would it be weird if he just kept his hands at his sides? Would that make him look like a puppet in a box or something?

For a moment, he wished he knew how to play the lute. So he could just sit down and play it, not having to think about his hands. He should have let Jaskier teach him when he offered it months ago. Well, there was no point thinking about that now.

“Okay, Geralt, give yourself a minute. You can do this,” he assured himself and took a deep breath. “Just remember why you’re doing this, and just do whatever feels natural. Say something romantic before you start, maybe.”

When he took a look at Jaskier, who was sitting by the fire across from him with Ciri and talking to her excitedly about something, he knew that he shouldn’t be worried about any of these things. And he shouldn’t worry about forgetting the words, even though he felt like he would forget and make a fool of himself.

“Jaskier!” He called as Ciri stood up to go to Yennefer’s side. “Are you planning to shut your mouth at least for a couple of minutes anytime soon?”

“So much for making a romantic remark before you start singing. Well done Geralt, way to go,” a voice inside his head scolded him as Jaskier said something he failed to catch. It wasn’t his fault that it was what felt natural. Being romantic wasn’t his strong suit, but he was trying to improve.

“Okay, so. It won’t be the best song you’ve ever heard, but it’s the best I can do. If any of you laugh at me while I’m singing, I’ll kick your sorry asses.”

“Wait, wha–”

He took a deep breath once again and started singing, keeping his eyes on Jaskier as he gaped with wide-open eyes.

“I had no choice but to hear you

You stated your case time and again

I thought about it

You treat me like I’m a damn prince

I’m not used to liking that

You ask how my day was”

He heard Ciri letting out a little chuckle at the “damn prince,” part, and he gave her a warning look before turning his gaze on Jaskier again, standing up.

There was no lie in it, Jaskier did treat him like he was a prince. He treated the Witcher like he wasn’t someone people were afraid of, but someone good and royal. Someone who deserved to be respected. Someone who deserved all the compliments in the whole world, not ugly slurs.

Someone who deserved to be loved.

“You’ve already won me over in spite of me

And don’t be alarmed if I fall head over feet

Don’t be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn’t help it

It’s all your fault,” he sang, pointing at the bard while singing “it’s all your fault.”

Geralt nodded at him like saying “yes, I mean you, you silly bard,” when Jaskier briefly looked around as if he wasn’t sure Geralt was singing to him.

Of course, he meant him.

Because it sure was his fault.

It was Jaskier’s fault that his smile was more bright and dazzling than the afternoon sun, warming Geralt inside every time.

It was his fault that he had the biggest heart of gold Geralt had ever encountered, filled with so much love.

His fault that he had a voice that would make angels weep with jealousy. His fault that he was just so… Jaskier.

“Your love is thick and it swallowed me whole

You’re so much braver than I gave you credit for

That’s not lip service”

He found his hands moving naturally against his will as he sang. Guess he was worried for nothing.

“You’ve already won me over in spite of me

And don’t be alarmed if I fall head over feet

Don’t be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn’t help it

It’s all your fault”

He sang the chorus once again, walking towards the man who he was able to render speechless for once, for a good reason hopefully this time. Speechless, and surprised as hell.

When he was finally in front of Jaskier, he reached his hands out tentatively towards him, hoping that the bard would just take the hint and hold them. Sadly, he didn’t. So Geralt just bent over and grabbed his hands, pulling him up from the log he was sitting on. Then, with a barely audible sigh, he closed his eyes, not sure if he could sing that part while looking at Jaskier.

He kept singing after swallowing thickly to find his voice again, not letting go of the bard’s dainty hands:

“You are the bearer of unconditional things

You held your breath and the door for me

Thanks for your patience

You’re the best friend that I’ve ever had

Let’s be boyfriends

What are we waiting for?

What took me so long?”

“Did he just ask him to be his boyfriend?” Geralt heard Ciri gasp quietly.

“Fucking finally,“ he was sure that Yennefer was rolling his eyes right now, “they were already acting like boyfriends anyway. Well, or more like an old married couple.”

Wait, were they?

Deep down, he knew that Jaskier had feelings for him, too. But still, he couldn’t help but think “What if I’m wrong?”

What if he was opening his heart only to get it broken?

No, no way.

He was being ridiculous.

Jaskier loved him, too. There was no way that would happen.

He knew that he did. Maybe Geralt was just too stubborn to see it at first, maybe it got him decades to accept that someone could truly love him, yeah, but he finally did accept it.

They loved each other.

And it was only Geralt’s fault that he kept pushing Jaskier away from himself for so long.

It was only when he finally was succeeded, he regretted it.

He regretted it deeply.

He was aware of everything after having to spend half of the year Jaskierless - yes, it was a real word to him, more real than any word, even, it meant “suffering” “pain” and “sadness” in his dictionary - he was aware of his love for him.

If anything, it was Jaskier who should have been afraid.

Afraid of getting hurt by him again, afraid of being vulnerable again.

Because he had already laid his heart bare to the Witcher before, yet Geralt had broken his heart so badly.

But Jaskier had given him another chance anyway, and Geralt had promised himself to do his best not to make him regret it.

The white-haired man had said goodbye to The Old Geralt right when he got that chance.

“Goodbye,” he had told him, “no longer hiding behind excuses, no longer always avoiding to express yourself. Maybe it will be difficult to say goodbye to you, I know. And you will appear again in front of people I don’t know, as it should be, but I have to say goodbye to you. ‘Cause if I go on like this, I will only cause harm to my loved ones, thinking that I am protecting them.”

Perhaps it seemed like there was no radical change at all since one couldn’t suddenly say goodbye to the person he had been for years. Old habits die hard, after all.

But changing was the important thing, no matter how slow.

Back in the day, Geralt would pretend he didn’t care or like it whenever Jaskier composed a new song. But the new Geralt would make little comments on his songs instead of acting like he wasn’t even listening.

And even just saying “That’s a nice song,” or “I don’t hate it,” with the tiniest smile was enough to make Jaskier happy. It was enough to make him realize that things weren’t the same anymore.

The new Geralt showed it when he was concerned for the bard, and he paid attention to Jaskier’s feelings, to his warnings, to him.

He tried his best to make it up for his every mistake.

He tried his best to be the friend Jaskier deserved since the very beginning.

It wasn’t just a one-sided deal, though. Because Jaskier had his own regrets as well, and he knew that neither he nor Geralt was flawless.

There were moments Geralt would get mad about something that had happened; moments that required him to be alone for a while.

While old Jaskier would try to lighten the mood with jokes and would force him to say something, new Jaskier wouldn’t do that.

He would just say: “I’m here if you wanna talk,” and when Geralt was back, he would do his best to make him feel better. He would get him in the bath if Geralt wanted him to, washing him with such care. Then he would make him a nice cup of tea before insisting that he needed to take a nap.

Not once would he open his mouth to say anything about whatever had upset Geralt unless the white-haired man said something about it first.

One of these days, Geralt had asked the bard while he was washing the Witcher silently: “Do you remember when I said that I needed no one..?”

With that question, the gentle hands that massaging his scalp had come to a halt.

“You know what they say,” Jaskier had replied bitterly, the tone of hurt in his voice making Geralt ache “one has to forget first to remember.”

“I was wrong,” Geralt had admitted with a mumble after a moment of heavy silence, turning to his right a bit and reaching over to hug the bard’s legs. “I was so wrong.”

“I need you,” he had thought, his hair dampening the other man’s trousers, “I need you in my life, Jaskier. I can’t say it out loud, but please hear my silent words. Find them in my actions, find them in my touch.”

As if reading his mind, Jaskier had moved one hand to Geralt’s bare shoulder and caressed the skin there gently and slowly before saying: “You have me, Geralt. And I’ll be in your life as long as you want me to be. As long as you act like it.”

Things had changed again after that. In a good way.

They had become more touchy with each other. Jaskier was already a touchy person, but Geralt couldn’t say the same for himself.

Normally.

After their little conversation, Geralt was feeling more comfortable with showing his affection with little things, like ruffling Jaskier’s silky hair when he would pout, annoyed at Geralt for something. Or when he would do something impressive.

Little things like calling him “little hummingbird” instead of just “bard” because Jaskier reminded him of one.

Just like a hummingbird, he was unique and beautiful in every aspect, and it was hard to catch up with him since he was constantly in motion. Also, he usually talked non-stop and when he would stop singing or talking, he would start humming this time. And eh, let’s not forget about his colourful outfits that suited him so well.

So, Geralt called him “hummingbird”, and he could swear that Jaskier’s eyes shined with happiness whenever he called him that.

Maybe he could finally call him “my little hummingbird” pretty soon.

“I’ve never felt this healthy before

I’ve never wanted something rational

I am aware now

You’ve already won me over in spite of me

And don’t be alarmed if I fall head over feet

Don’t be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn’t help it

It’s all your fault”

And he was done.

Yet, even after he finished singing, he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes.

When Jaskier pulled his hands away, he felt his heart clench in his chest. He cursed himself in his head, feeling too anxious to even breathe. Did he fuck everything up? Just like that? Did he just misread everything like a goddamn fool?

What was gonna-

Before he could ask himself any further questions, he felt a feather-light touch on his cheeks.

He opened his eyes only to find Jaskier’s stunning blue eyes shining with tears, looking at him like Geralt had just caught the moon for him.

Geralt waited for him to say something.

Anything.

“Was my singing so terrible it made you cry?” He asked when Jaskier said nothing in a full minute. The bard’s face was so close to his that he could count the drops that were nestled on his long eyelashes.

The white-haired man wiped his tears away with his thumb gently as he leaned in to press their foreheads together. “Or you didn’t like the song? I believe it was much better than The Fishmonger’s Daughter.”

He knew that Jaskier would say something if he made a comment on one of his songs. This was a trick he had learned a long time ago.

“Excuse me,” here it came, “but The Fishmonger’s Daughter is a great song.”

“No, it isn’t. You just sing ‘ba ba,’ and ‘ta-da-da’ for half of the song. Even four years old can do that.”

“And people love it. They love to sing along and it’s catchy, also it has a story in it like every one of my songs,” Jaskier claimed with a weak voice and swallowed as Geralt ran his fingertips lightly along the side of his neck. He sounded like he could break at any moment as he whispered after wrapping one hand around the Witcher’s waist: “Now will you just shut me up with a kiss or should I just keep–”

And who was he to deny Jaskier of something he wanted as well..?

So Geralt shut him up with pressing his lips against his soft lips, kissing him gently but passionately. At first, Jaskier just held him close instead of kissing him back, but then his eyes closed and he returned his kiss with equal fervour.

He could hear the distant cheering of Ciri and Yennefer as they kissed for God knows how long. It was strange how a couple of minutes had felt endless, but also too short at the same time.

“Hey,” Jaskier swallowed again when Geralt pulled back a little and broke the kiss so they could take a breath, “I’ve never heard this song before. Where did you…”

“Because it was written for you, you silly, beautiful dandelion,” answered the Witcher. “By me.”

A beat.

And with that, a loud sob broke free from Jaskier’s throat, tears falling freely over his beautiful face as the sound of footsteps going off into the distance was heard.

“I’m so afraid that this is all happening in my head,” he whispered, burying his head on Geralt’s shoulder, his frame shaking slightly. “I’m fucking terrified that this is nothing but a vivid dream. I’ve waited for so long, Geralt. Countless times I’ve dreamed about hearing you say that you wanted me, too. Not just as a friend, but more. And now, I–” Jaskier took a shaky breath, “Could we just…”

Geralt hugged him, rubbing small soothing circles on his back, not needing Jaskier to complete his sentence.

He knew what he meant anyway.

Because Jaskier wasn’t the only one who felt like this.

There were nights Geralt would still wake up in cold sweat, finding it hard to believe that Jaskier was in the same room with him for real.

More often than not, the bard wouldn’t realize that Geralt had woken up since he was a heavy sleeper who wouldn’t notice if an earthquake happened. So, the white-haired man would just watch him sleep until he could convince himself that he was real.

An impulse to brush his fingers through Jaskier’s silky hair would come up every time without any exceptions.

Sometimes he would almost reach out to him, but then he would instantly retrieve his hand, afraid of waking him up even though he knew that he probably wouldn’t.

But sometimes, he couldn’t resist that impulse and would brush his fingers through Jaskier’s hair oh so carefully. And then stroke against the softness of his cheek before pulling the thick comforter over him, smiling because: “this is real.”

In that rare moments when Jaskier would wake up to see Geralt awake, trying to calm himself, he would ask him what was wrong. And the look Geralt would give him would always be enough for him to understand that what his nightmares were about.

The bard would pull him into his arms then, singing softly, lovingly in his ear.

“Can you just…”

Geralt would start after Jaskier would stop singing eventually, but he could never finish his question.

He could never ask: “Can you just keep holding me for a little while longer?”

But he didn’t need to.

“Sure,” Jaskier would keep holding him as Geralt would close his eyes, listening to the relaxing heartbeats of the bard.

“I’m here, you adorable, big snowman,” he would whisper afterwards. “I’m here.”

So, no.

Geralt definitely didn’t need him to complete his sentence.

“Yeah,” he nodded, pulling him even closer to himself, not even able to tolerate being two-inch apart from him, “we can stay like this, Jaskier.”

“Don’t let go,” Jaskier begged after a while, “Please, don’t let go.”

Just like he did when his screams would break the silence of the night sometimes, alarming all of the Witcher’s senses with concern.

Just like when Geralt would hold him loosely to calm him down, telling him to just follow his breathing and to breathe with him, nice and slow as he would take Jaskier’s hand and place it on his own broad chest.

“Never.” He assured him sweetly, breathing in Jaskier’s heavenly scent and placing a little kiss on his shoulder “Never again, my little hummingbird.”

Seriously…

What took him so long..?

#the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #geralt #the witcher fanfiction #my writing

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lovelyirony · 5 years ago

Note

Fic title meme : pulvis et umbra sumus (We Are Dust And Shadows)

On every single document, including the ones that show what actually happened to Howard and Maria Stark, Tony Stark is listed as dead among them.

He is not.

But in not calling in the accident on the abandoned road, Tony managed to find someone else to take his place and escaped.

Tony Stark is dead. A whole family funeral and everything. Obadiah pretends to cry. Tony is at the funeral with shitty dye in his hair and sunglasses that he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing. Ha.

The funeral is closed casket. All their faces are rumored to be impossible to fix with make-up.

He makes new documents. Anthony Jarvis, from Boston. Airtight background. Likes puzzles. Scored damn high on the SAT, but not the perfect score.

(Killed him to answer some of those questions wrong, seriously.)

Anthony Jarvis goes to MIT and requests a single room. He gets one for one semester, and then the room next to his burns and destroys his as well. So he gets moved to Jim Rhodes’.

Jim becomes Rhodey, and he is the first friend of Anthony Jarvis, and nicknames him Tony.

He grins at that.

There are plenty of times that Tony wants to tell him. The thing about secrets is that they need to be shared. No one really wants a secret, nor do they want to keep it. But he keeps his mouth shut and asks if he wants to go for Thai food.

“This is the third time this week.”

“Not my fault it’s good! I’ll pay...”

“Sign me up.”

Tony and Rhodey gets Thai food. It’s good.

Rhodey lets him in on a secret that Tony had actually known about since his room assignment.

(You remember that guy’s room that caught on fire? Yeah, he swore that his microwave hadn’t been on, and nothing had been plugged in. He was right. But Tony needed an accident.)

In other circumstances, Rhodey would have ignored the offer that he had. He had had his heart set on Air Force. But there was something about the man who talked to him.

“It’s a place called Strategic-Homeland-something I can’t remember,” Rhodey says. “Point is, they’re a big deal and kind of shady, but not in the government shady kind of way. The only thing I can find out about them is that they’re an international company who need engineers, pilots, and basically anyone like you and me. I don’t know how I feel about it.”

Tony nods.

“You want me in on this?”

“I mean, you did tell me a couple of weeks ago that you weren’t sure what you wanted to do after graduation.”

(It was two weeks, three days, and fourteen hours ago. Not like he was counting.)

“...thanks. I’ll check it out with you.”

Anthony Jarvis shows up in a nice suit, stupid sunglasses, and impresses the higher-ups by diagnosing a problem with the engine that others had previously marked as “impossible.”

He’s hired on the spot, same as Rhodey.

Tony Jarvis gets his own keycard, finds an apartment in New York that’s within at least biking distance, and gets started on inventing some cute little toys for the spies in Research and Development.

He brings the laser-lipstick to life, poison-drop-earrings, spyglasses that actually work and have HD, and briefcases that use mirroring technology to change color.

“How did you do this?” Rhodey asks, eyes wide. “I swear this is unreal.”

“Aw,” Tony says. “You sap. I got some inspiration from some old comic book ads. I think I’m gonna try a ring decoder next, what do you think?”

“Almost makes me want to go on missions instead of flying them.”

Tony Jarvis is known for working odd yet long hours. He comes up with results. And he keeps his head down and minds his own business.

This is all to find out exactly who killed his parents. As much as his and Howard’s relationship was...interesting, he still wanted to know.

His desire to know the truth leads to somewhere he hadn’t thought was possible: Hydra.

His hands freeze as he looks at the paper file with thick, black lines all over. The information there was sparse. Howard, Maria, and Anthony Stark all died. It was ruled:

And there’s nothing there.

It wasn’t an accident. Sure he knew that, but there was something far more sinister at play. Why wasn’t it an accident?

He gets Alexander Pierce in his apartment with a man in the corner. His arm gleams in what little light from the lamps outside give off.

“Why are you searching for the Stark files?” He asks.

“Why didn’t you just schedule a meeting? I’m available tomorrow at three,” Tony jokes. “Who’s your friend here?”

“Someone you wouldn’t want to shake hands with,” Pierce answers. “You need to stop looking into this before you find yourself in a situation you don’t want to be in.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Accidents will happen,” Pierce says. He gets up from the table, to the counter. Gets out a glass. And makes himself water. He smiles as he looks to the man in the corner. “Do you want any water, Winter Soldier?”

Winter Soldier remains impassive.

Tony stills.

“So, the legends are true. And Hydra is still around.”

“And if you aren’t careful, you won’t be,” Pierce says. “Don’t bring any of this up. Or this won’t be the last time you see Winter Soldier. I know your moves, Jarvis. Don’t think you can surprise me.”

They exit the apartment. Tony realizes that Pierce took his glass.

And he laughs.

Because this? Not according to plan, but god he’s gonna have fun with it.

It starts with telling Rhodey who he actually is.

It does not go as planned.

“So let me get this straight. I’ve known you for years and you just. Never told me?” Rhodey asks. “Why not?”

“To be completely fair, no one knows besides a man in Wisconsin, and he’s from Wisconsin,” Tony says. “Also I was drunk. Drunk me is a terrible person who would sell me for a buffalo nickel.”

“I’m still mad, even if that’s funny,” Rhodey says, trying not to smile. “So. Why tell me now? I’m assuming you need something.”

“I would like your help,” Tony says. “It is not required but I am toppling a secret organization living in SHIELD and I think if I get your help, I will most likely not get fired by the end of this. Fury likes you, he hates me.”

“False, he mildly tolerates you. You’ll be fine. Probably. Who else should we get to help?”

Tony had originally planned for no one.

But then there was Pepper Potts.

She had been deemed by the media as “crazy” for accusing Obadiah Stane, longtime-CEO of Stark Industries, as ordering a hit out on the Stark family.

She had been booted from the company--anticipated--and then Hydra had ordered a hit on her.

Slightly unexpected.

Point is, Rhodey brings her into the apartment and tells Tony casually that the grocery store had run out of his usual hummus brand, was the generic okay?

“That’s like asking if I’m okay with blue pens,” Tony curses. “Also, is that Pepper Potts? Why is she here? Did you run into her at the grocery store?”

“No, as I was coming back. Did you know that she has a hit out on her? Fun times.”

“Oh my god, will someone explain to me what’s going on here?!” Pepper seethes. “I was just trying to get my yogurt without anyone taking a picture of me and some random fucking guy had a knife thrown at me and then this guy took me to your house!”

She then rants for ten minutes about the “questionable design choices going on in this establishment, who honestly thinks shot glasses are a decoration?!”

“Are you done?” Tony asks. “Because if you want to help with a conspiracy plot, you need to be done.”

She is.

Pepper does not get a job with SHIELD. In fact, she mainly just decides to take care of the redecoration in Tony’s apartment.

“You will be paying me for this.”

“Why would I do that? You’re using my money to buy everything. You’re living here rent free for now.”

“Because I’m helping you make better life choices. I also want new shoes.”

What Pepper does is provide very valuable access to Stark Industries: she knows the ins and outs, what employees do and don’t do, and also is very helpful in telling Tony what he needs to do when he takes the company over.

“Who said I was going to take it over?”

“Me,” Pepper says. “Also because I reviewed every single old document and the company was specified to go to next-of-kin. You are. And you’re not dead.”

“My death certificate is literally framed,” Tony says, pointing to his graduation photo that Rhodey took. He had swapped out his official diploma with it as a joke. No one had seen it. He thought it was hilarious.

“Yeah, but they can do DNA testing,” Pepper says. “This is like the twenty-first century Anastasia except this time they don’t find you with metal detectors!”

“I don’t like that you know that story as well as you do,” Rhodey says. “But I’ll leave you a credit card for furniture and groceries. If you get rid of my drinks in the fridge I’m literally never forgiving you.”

“Noted, and I don’t need forgiveness,” Pepper says. “But they’ll stay there.”

So begins the plot.

Pierce doesn’t know three things, which is a lot of things not to know:

1.) Tony Jarvis is not Tony Jarvis.

2.) Rhodey actually likes Tony and most of the time him saying that he would “kill Tony in a variety of ways, starting with sporks and moving forward...” is mostly (mostly) a joke.

3.) Pepper Potts resides in their apartment and is having fun telling Tony she bought new silverware.

“Why did you buy new silverware! It was fine!”

“I recognized all of these forks and knives from restaurants. Why did you steal them from restaurants?”

“They can replace them!”

“Don’t. Anyways now your spoons match and you don’t have the shitty ones from different places. Also I painted the bathroom.”

“My landlord is gonna kill me.”

“I made her cookies and discovered that she likes going to concerts. You’ll be fine.”

(Pepper is a goddess. You can’t convince them otherwise.)

Pierce doesn’t know any of this, but he still holds a key piece of blackmail: Tony Jarvis shouldn’t know about Hydra, and he’ll do anything to make sure that he doesn’t lose his job.

Tony has been recording their conversations for weeks.

(Pierce thinks he doesn’t design things to get around the available technology. Pathetic.)

He also has bugged Pierce as well as his house, and figures out that Winter Soldier is going to be on assignment within the DC area in an effort to kill some higher-up on the foodchain that was SHIELD.

Well.

Tony has always wanted to go and see the cherry blossoms a little more up close.

Pepper, of course, doesn’t like that they left his boots on.

“This couch is new and red,” she says. “Take off his boots!”

“He is unconscious and probably won’t be in the next fifteen minutes,” Rhodey says. “We are not touching him and possibly shortening that fifteen minutes.”

Winter Soldier wakes up to three faces staring at him.

“Mission failed?” he asks, voice robotic.

“Nope, you just got a new one,” says the man on the right. He is wearing a t-shirt. Winter Soldier thinks that in this situation, a t-shirt is not the best option.

(Of course, he’s not supposed to think. But they don’t have to know that.”

“Can you take your shoes off?” says the woman in the middle. “Please. You’re getting germs on the couch.”

He’s confused.

“Who am I killing?”

“No one, yet,” says the man on the left. “Do you know who you are?”

“Winter Soldier.”

“No, like a name? I’m assuming you’ve had a name at some point.”

“Someone has called me Mr. Freeze before.”

The man on the left snorts. Man on the right taps his arm lightly.

“Well, um, okay then. How do you feel about the name...aw shit. I can’t think of a name for you when your mask is on. Can you take the mask off?”

He takes it off. It’s nicer to breathe.

The man in the t-shirt pauses.

“Okay. So your name is Bucky Barnes. Do you know that name?”

Something clicked. But he doesn’t know what.

“Sounds...familiar.”

“Cool! So that’s your name now, do me a favor and don’t google it. I’m Tony, this is Rhodey, and this is Pepper. If you don’t take your shoes off, you’re going to be scared of her.”

Newly-named-Bucky highly doubts that he will be scared of Pepper because she is built like a twig and she is wearing high heels.

(He is wrong about ten minutes later when she forcibly throws a fork at him.)

“Why am I here?” he asks. “Should I be checking back in with Handler Pierce?”

“No,” comes the consensus from everyone else in the room.

“Technically, he thinks you went rogue and went back to Russia. He’s organizing a team to go get you. We hired an actor to play you. It’s been entertaining. He got some plums. Do you like plums?”

“Why is that relevant?”

“It’s vapid and not interesting at all, Tony loves questions like that,” Rhodey says. “Now come on. We need to get you actual shirts. Also some body wash.”

Bucky Barnes learns how to be a person. He stares at himself in the mirror for an hour and smiles slightly when Pepper calls him “vain” and pushes him aside to grab her hairbrush.

He then learns that Hydra is trying to overtake SHIELD and they have a slight window with Pierce out.

This involves two things:

1.) Tony Stark coming back from the dead.

2.) SHIELD panicking that they didn’t know this secret and taking another look at the paperwork, in which case Hydra will be found out.

These are both easier than anticipated. Tony can act like a showman better than anyone, and has been carefully growing a goatee that is eerily reminiscent of his late father’s. Of course he’s had to switch it up.

The media is going crazy. SHIELD as well. They’re scrambling to find paperwork that proves that it happened, and they find that the “accident” was no accident. That Howard hadn’t been working for the “enemy” at the time.

The enemy was in the building, and they had blended in seamlessly.

This all happens on a Wednesday, by the way. Pepper has it marked on the calendar and everything. Rhodey made his coffee.

Bucky is busy slamming people into drywall and listening for any word from Rhodey, who is also slamming people into drywall.

“You know, you’d think we’d get something like a suit of armor for this,” Rhodey pants out, slamming another guy out of his way.

Bucky nods.

“Best I can offer is a grenade.”

“Where in the fuck did you get a grenade?!”

“Supply closet. Second floor. What, you didn’t check?”

“No sorry must’ve missed it--of course I didn’t fucking check the second floor closet!” Rhodey yells.

Bucky says he’s stressed. He should calm himself.

Rhodey chucks a particularly nasty Hydra agent out a window.

(Bucky thinks Rhodey is probably the coolest person he’ll ever meet.)

Tony is fashionably late to the take-down of the century. He’s already foiled a lot of plans, and taken a key-card for Project Insight to work.

He waltzes in and nearly gets hit by a mug.

“So, how’s the party going?” he yells over to Pepper. Pepper is still in her heels. She looks like a goddess still, as usual. It is a Wednesday, after all.

“As fine as it can be,” Pepper says. “We’ve met some resistance. With Pierce gone there’s little infrastructure. You got his plane delayed, correct?”

“Even better. Got it sent to London. Motherfucker is gonna be there for a while,” Tony says. “Also may or may not have said that he was a threat. SHIELD branch there will investigate, find out some questionable things in his file that he will swear up and down were never there.”

“Good,” Pepper says. She launches a stapler at someone’s head. “Do you think we’ll have time to pick up takeout for dinner?”

“Depends on whether or not Deputy Director Hill is Hydra.”

They see Maria Hill pass by in a blur, yelling as she jumps onto a man and sends him crashing down over a railing.

“Lovely, she isn’t!” Pepper cheers. “By the way, I was thinking about redoing our kitchen.”

“‘Our’ kitchen?” Tony says, ducking a bullet and drawing out his personal lipstick-laser, firing it with expert precision. “I told you the living situation was temporary.”

“Oh please, you have an extra room.”

“Which was an office!” Tony tells her.

“Like you can’t have your office at Stark Industries,” Pepper says. “I expect to hear how the reveal went over dinner. Also, please hire me back. I don’t wanna be your interior decorator for forever.”

“Neither do I, you like modern art. Disgusting.”

And so the fighting resumes.

It is done by five-thirty-two, with an official surrender from Pierce.

“Thank god, I already ordered Chinese and they said it’d be here at six,” Rhodey says.

They all sit on the red couch.

Shoes on.

Tony tips four hundred percent.

“So what are we doing tomorrow?” Rhodey asks.

“I am not moving for six hours,” Bucky answers. “Also maybe getting a library card.”

“This is the first thing you want out of the icebox? A library card?” Tony asks, laughing.

Pepper laughs.

“I have errands to run. You can come with me and we’ll swing by.”

“What are the errands?”

“Getting a kitchen mixer and also making sure that my plates match my napkins.”

“A travesty if it doesn’t happen,” Rhodey deadpans. “Pass the lo mein, Tony. You’re hogging it.”

“I had to fight on a Wednesday and run,” Tony says. “Today isn’t cardio day.”

“Literally hate it when you speak,” Rhodey says. “Absolutely abhor your language.”

They go to bed, although it’s more of laying on the floor.

Sure, Tony will have to deal with retaking a business that he knows a bit less about and Pepper will have to be trained (again) and also fight against being made CEO (but she won’t fight much). Rhodey will get a new job with SI because it’s not like Tony will let him work at SHIELD (Rhodey tries, Tony will get him fired at some point). Bucky just...he needs to get a bit more than a library card.

But that’s for tomorrow.

#BUCKLE IN BOYS WE GOT A LONGGGGGG ONE #bucky barnes #tony stark #rhodey #pepper potts #yes this took all day yes i didn't proofread it #but i love this so much #lovelyirony writes

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frenchfrysplash · 4 years ago

Text

fic: between heaven, the sky, the earth

The Haunting of Bly Manor

Dani/Jamie

Chapter 2/10

Read on AO3 Here! Or you can continue into the Read More.

Summary: Jamie goes between one moment, and the next. Falling around her like rain, like snow.

She’s here for a reason. Here to help.

She just needs to remember.

————————————–

Chapter Two: the pitiless wave

And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand- How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep- while I weep! O God! can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave?

- Edgar Allen Poe, A Dream Within a Dream

December 1996

"Jamie?"

"Hm?" Jamie turned away from the window, where she had been gazing out at the way the Christmas lights lit up the newly fallen snow. Henry Wingrave always went all out with Christmas lights, decorating not only his big Massachusetts house, but the trees and hedges of the ridiculously large property as well. It was as though his determination to make up that lost year to his niece and nephew had been channelled into twinkling reds and greens, yellows and blues, and at least one blow up snowman, which Flora still loved, even at 17 years of age.

Said 17-year-old was looking at her now, holding two mugs of hot chocolate, eyebrows raised. Jamie didn't think she would ever stop seeing the little girl she had first met, even as Flora looked more and more like Charlotte Wingrave with every passing day.

"Sorry, Flora," Jamie said, taking the proffered hot chocolate. "Just lost in thought, I guess."

"Uncle Henry's lights have been known to hypnotize many a fool who wanders this way at night," Flora said, sounding older than she was, just as her brother had, once upon a time. "We find them in the spring, wandering in the forest."

Jamie snorted. "You went from strange little girl to strange teenager, you know that?"

Flora shrugged, sitting down on the couch in front of the fireplace. "Normal is overrated."

Jamie had heard Flora and Miles' accents change over the course of the past nine years, between phone calls and visits and VHS tapes sent in the mail of dance recitals and school plays. Dani had almost let the little family drop out of touch, but in the end, hadn't been able to resist when Flora called on her ninth birthday asking why Dani hadn't answered her invitation. Still, the change was jarring sometimes, especially when she had been so lost in the past a moment before.

Or had she? She was certain she had been thinking back on some memory, but what it was exactly escaped her.

"Am I going to have to look for you in the woods come Spring?" Flora asked, an amused expression on her face. "Where do you keep going?"

"Just remembering when you were little," Jamie said. "And Dani made you do all the weeding for the day, and I got to sit and drink gin and tonic. Christ, I should have told her I'd marry her right then and there."

"I could tell you liked her, you know," Flora said, eyes dancing in the firelight. "From the moment you first saw her."

"Flora, you were eight," Jamie said. "How could you possibly tell?"

"You're not denying it!"

"Denying it?" Jamie laughed. "Dani and I have been together for nine years, I think we're well past denying it." The glint of her ring caught both of their eyes, and Jamie felt a stupid grin spread across her face at the sight. "You didn't answer the question, little miss trouble."

Flora giggled, for a moment looking like that little girl Jamie saw in her mind's eye. "Well, maybe it wasn't the moment you first saw her. You were pretty rude to her, actually."

Jamie gasped, affronted. "I didn't even say anything to her!"

"Exactly!" Flora pointed at her triumphantly. "You were terribly rude."

A trace of the British accent she had left behind long ago was in her words. Jamie couldn't help but smile as she sipped her hot chocolate.

"Alright then," she said. "How and when could you tell I liked your dear au pair?"

"You stayed the night because she was scared," Flora said simply. "You'd never stayed the night at the manor before."

Jamie frowned, thinking back to that night. The thought that Peter Fucking Quint might be lurking around the grounds had made her blood boil, and really, there had been no question of her and Owen sticking around. It hadn't really been because of Dani, though Jamie remembered the way Dani's eyes had looked, shining in the darkness as they walked the grounds together, wide and scared and determined all at once. Remembered the relieved expression they took on when Owen suggested staying. Remembered how she hadn't even hesitated to stay when she saw the way Dani's shoulders relaxed.

And Jamie had been convinced Dani was straight, then. Who the hell knew?

"I used to think it was because of the ghosts," Flora was saying, bringing Jamie slamming back into the present and making her choke on her hot chocolate.

"S-sorry," she coughed. "I'm sorry. Did you say ghosts?"

"Yep," Flora looked towards the fire, thoughtful. "I know that's silly now, because there's no such thing as ghosts, right? But I remember thinking 'ah, Jamie must be scared of the ghosts. That's why she never stays for dinner.'"

Jamie blinked. Flora and Miles, she was certain, did not remember the events at Bly. Whatever happened in children's minds to protect them from trauma had taken hold, and all of the fear and strangeness of that summer had faded away. But could Flora possibly remember, somewhere, in the back of her mind?

"I used to have an imaginary friend there, you know," Flora said. "A little boy. I thought he was a ghost, because he didn't have a face-" Jamie's sharp inhale went unnoticed. "- and he scared me so badly I went running to Mum. Uncle Henry was there too, I remember." An odd expression passed over her, but she shook her head, as if to rid herself of it. "Anyway, I showed them where I'd seen him, and I told them I was scared, and Uncle Henry, well, he did his Uncle Henry thing and made me feel better."

"Oh?" Jamie asked, hardly breathing.

"Yeah," Flora laughed. "He told me to give the little boy a story, and a name, and maybe then he wouldn't seem so scary." She looked at Jamie, grinning. "He's always full of little pearls of wisdom like that, you know."

"Yeah," Jamie said, voice faint. Her heart was thundering in her ears, but not because Flora was talking about ghosts.

No, it was because standing behind Flora, silent and looming, was The Lady in the Lake.

"Is that what you want?" Jamie asked. "Is that why I'm here?"

The Lady in the Lake said nothing. Jamie leaned over and set her mug down on the coffee table. It disappeared as she did, along with Flora, lost to whatever new memory was coming. The living room was falling apart around her, lights going out one by one, walls crumbling, floor cracking and disintegrating into darkness.

"Your name," Jamie said, struggling to pull herself up straight on the couch. Her limbs suddenly felt heavy, bogged down by a life time of memories crashing about her all at once, fighting to be the next to play out. "I know your name."

The Lady of the Lake loomed ever closer, closer, closer, and Jamie-

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

June 1987

Sleeping on a couch wasn't fun at the best of times, and sleeping on an antique couch in overalls was downright traumatic. There was an ache at the back of Jamie's neck as she opened her eyes, woken up by what she thought were footsteps receding behind her. She lifted her head, glancing over the back of the couch, into the empty foyer.

Must be the ghost.

She chuckled at the thought, and levered herself up, stretching her arms and shoulders. Massaging at the crick in her neck, she headed towards the bathroom just off the kitchen, taking the time to splash a little water on her face before heading back out.

The kitchen wasn't empty. Dani stood at the centre island, back to the stove, frowning down at a teapot and teacup. Jamie felt her breath catch in her throat, taking in Dani's long blonde hair and the way it fell partially in front of her face; the way her nose scrunched up in frustration; the way her fingers tapped against the counter-top.

Dani was beautiful, and Jamie would be lying if she said she hadn't noticed it. She had seen it on that very first day, when she'd walked into the kitchen and felt any introduction she was about to make stop short in her chest. Ah, there you are, were the words that had floated across her mind, and the feeling had only strengthened since. Like Dani was meant to be there, in her life, and Jamie had just been patiently waiting until she arrived. Even as she tried to keep some distance, sure Dani was as straight as they come, her every heart beat seemed to repeat those words she had first felt when she had seen Dani.

Ah, there you are.

"Something the matter with the tea?" Jamie asked, settling herself into the bar stool closest to the au pair.

"Jamie!" Dani looked up, eyes widening in surprise. "Hi, uh, I was-" she glanced down at the pot of tea. "I was making you tea."

Her last words came out in a murmur, and were accompanied by a light blush on her cheeks. Jamie tried to suppress a grin.

"You were making me tea?" She asked, feeling inordinately pleased at the thought. "Just me? Not Owen or Hannah? Or the kids?"

"They're sleeping," Dani pointed out.

"So was I, until a few minutes ago." The grin couldn't be suppressed.

Dani ducked her head. "You said once you're an early riser, and I saw you on the couch and thought - you know what, whatever, if you don't want any-"

"I didn't say that!" Jamie held up her hands. "I'd love some tea."

Dani narrowed her eyes at her, but a small smile broke through, and she pushed the teacup in Jamie's direction.

"Not even gonna ask how I take it?" Jamie raised an eyebrow. "Such confidence."

"Um," said Dani, smile fading as Jamie took a sip.

And immediately spat it back out.

"Poppins," she said, voice deadly serious, setting the teacup down. "Are you trying to poison me?"

"I'm sorry," Dani rushed out, covering her eyes with her hand. "I'm shit at tea. Miles tried to give me pointers, but I can't seem to get it right. I just - it was so nice of you to stay last night, and I wanted to do something to thank you, and British people like tea! So I thought I would make you tea, but I'm so bad at it, I knew it was a terrible idea."

Jamie waited for the end of the word tsunami, desperately trying to keep a straight face. Finally, though, Dani peeked at her through her fingers, and she couldn't stop herself, dissolving into laughter.

"Well, that's just mean," Dani said, dropping her hand from her face. Her indignant expression caused Jamie to laugh harder.

"Sorry," she said, calming herself down. "I'm sorry. It's not even that funny."

"I just wanted to do something nice," Dani muttered, looking back down at the tea and pouting.

Jamie took a deep breath, and ran her fingers through her curls. She closed her eyes, centring herself, and so missed Dani looking up at her, eyes widening and mouth parting slightly in an inaudible gasp. By the time she opened them again, Dani's gaze had averted, and she was none the wiser.

"Ok, how about I give you a lesson, then?" Jamie asked. She stood up, picking up the pot and the cup, making her way to the sink where she dumped out both.

Dani watched her, perplexed. "A lesson?"

"On the proper way to make tea." Jamie searched out the second teapot, not trusting the first not to retain the contamination of Dani's disastrous attempt, as well as two teacups. "Per Jamie Taylor, tea-making prodigy."

"A prodigy?" Dani turned, leaning her hip against the counter, arms crossed. "I didn't realize I was in the presence of such genius."

"I keep it to myself, mostly," Jamie said, shrugging. She filled up the kettle and set it on the stove to boil. "Now first, we boil water."

"And then what?" Dani asked, amusement lighting up her face in a way that made Jamie want to swoon.

"One thing at a time," Jamie said. "That's your problem, you Americans, always rushing about. Tea takes time."

"I see." Dani glanced at the kettle, then back at Jamie. She seemed to be struggling with the silence that had fallen between them, though Jamie found it quite comfortable. She tilted her head. "So, no change of clothes, huh?"

"Nah," Jamie looked down at herself. "I rushed out of my flat pretty quick last night when Hannah phoned. Hated the thought of Pete wandering the grounds, probably flattening all my flowers. On purpose, knowing him."

"Yeah, that would be the worst thing he could do," Dani said drily. She was quiet for a moment, opening her mouth to talk, but startling at the whistle of the kettle.

Jamie quickly removed it from the burner, setting it aside. She turned to her teapot, and added teabags.

"Two teabags, huh?" Dani asked.

"More or less depending on how strong you like it." Jamie grabbed the kettle and poured the boiling water in. "Two to a pot is pretty reasonable though." She set the kettle aside, and placed the lid on the teapot. "Now, we let it steep."

"Steep?"

"So it'll actually taste like something," Jamie said. "And not just milky water with a bit of sugar."

"Ah," Dani peered at the teapot. "That makes sense." She smiled a somewhat embarrassed smile. "I didn't realize you had to do that."

"Which resulted in you almost killing me," Jamie said.

"I didn't almost kill you-"

"I saw me life flash before me eyes, I did."

Dani snorted, and looked away. Silence fell again, and Jamie took the moment to just look at Dani. She studied her profile, traced the contours of her eyebrows, her nose, her cheeks, her lips, down her neck, along her collarbones. Something tugged at her, insistently. A feeling that she had forgotten something, nagging in the back of her mind, like when you're not sure you locked the door before leaving in the morning.

"Where do you live, anyway?"

Jamie blinked, surprised at the question. It must have shown on her face, because Dani blushed and looked away.

"Sorry," she said. "I mean, I know you live in Bly, obviously. But where in Bly? Not that it'll mean much to me, since I've never been into town. But I was just curious, I guess."

"S'alright," Jamie said, smiling at her. "I live near the centre of the village, actually. In a flat above the local pub. Takes me about twenty minutes to drive here."

"Oh!" Dani considered this. "What's it like living above a pub?"

Jamie thought for a moment. "Not terrible," she said finally. "Not ideal either. I can pop down and get a drink whenever I want, but then I can hear everything going on down there all night. It's not exactly busy, but some nights they have live music, or it's a Saturday and things are getting rowdy." She shrugged. "It was almost a blessing staying here last night, with the silence." She rubbed the back of her neck again. "The couch was torture though."

"Well," said Dani. "Next time you stay over, we'll make sure you get a bed."

"You offering, Poppins?" Jamie asked, delighted at the way Dani's ears turned bright red. "Nah, I'm sure you'd rather our resident chef."

She made her way over to the fridge, pulling out milk and setting it on the counter, goosebumps prickling her arms as she felt Dani's eyes on her. Distance, she thought, was best.

"No," said Dani, voice so low Jamie almost didn't hear her. "I don't think I would."

Jamie turned to her a little too fast, almost dropping the sugar bowl. Dani was watching her, arms still crossed, expression soft. Jamie felt a surge of…something towards this woman. Something deep and all-consuming, something that was impossible for her to be feeling, given how short a time she had known her. But it was there, an ache in her chest, painful and wonderful and too much.

The sugar bowl fell to the ground, shattering.

"Jamie?" Dani asked, pushing herself off the counter, concern colouring her features. "Jamie, what's wrong?"

It was only now Jamie felt the tears tracking down her cheeks, blurring her vision as she stared at Dani, whose eyes were wide with shock, her mouth moving as she asked Jamie what was going on, what was wrong, what could she do?

Jamie heard none of it, only gazed steadily at her dead wife.

"God, I miss you," she said.

Dani's face was stricken. Jamie took a few stumbling steps forward, cupping Dani's blurred face.

"I wish you were real," she whispered. "I wish this wasn't just a memory. I wish-"

She stopped when she saw Dani's eye-line shift.

Over her shoulder.

Slowly, she turned around. And gasped, stepping back involuntarily, into the space Dani had just now vanished from.

The Lady in the Lake stepped with her, eyeless face filling Jamie's vision. She raised her hands towards Jamie's neck, and Jamie shut her own eyes, readying herself for those cold, clammy fingers to wrap around her neck.

Instead, she felt them wipe at her cheeks.

Jamie opened her eyes again, heart pounding, as the Lady in the Lake wiped her tears. It didn't really help, since her hands were damp from their watery home, but there was a certain clumsy gentleness there. Like this was something the Lady had done before, but not for a very, very long time.

As she stood there, utterly terrified, Jamie became aware of another noise beyond her own shuddering breaths. There was a sound coming out of the Lady's throat, guttural, animalistic. She seemed to be trying to say something.

All at once, Jamie remembered.

Carefully, she raised her own hand to cover the Lady's at her face, curling her fingers around it and bringing it down, squeezing. She swallowed, fighting past her fear, and brought her other hand up, trembling, to touch the Lady's waxlike face.

"Viola," she said quietly. "Your name is Viola Lloyd. Do you remember?"

The noise from the Lady's throat changed, slightly. Jamie dropped her hand to the one holding the Lady's, and squeezed, almost encouragingly.

And finally, finally, the noise that came out of the Lady's throat wasn't just a meaningless sound anymore.

"Vi…ola…"

#the haunting of bly manor #dani x jamie #damie #dani clayton #jamie the gardener #jamie #bly manor #heather writes fanfiction #chapter two!

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365days365movies · 4 years ago

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March 15, 2021: Clash of the Titans (1981) (Part Two)

I think mythology is squarely out of the equation now.

We’re gonna have to go with the Disney’s Hercules route with this movie, huh? Enjoy it for what it is, and forget the ways in which is destroys the source material. Well...if I gotta, then I guess I will. OK then, on with the show! Check out Part One for more!

Recap (2/2)

So, Pegasus has been captured by Calibos and his guys. That’s gonna be a problem, since they needed him to cut the journey to the Grey Sisters in half. Well, it doesn’t matter, and the group heads there anyway. Perseus tries to persuade Andromeda, but she rightly points out that she’s the only royalty there, and they all technically her. She girl-bosses her way out of there, and the rest follow.

In Olympus, Zeus asks Athena where her helmet is, and she replies that it’s forever lost in the swamp. Damn, Hades is gonna be piiiiiiissed. Zeus demands that she provides a replacement: her owl, Bubo. And I have a mini-stroke because he just called a GODDAMN BARN OWL BUBO. See, Bubo is the genus that contains the horned owls, including the great horned owl, snowy owl, and eagle owls. They belong to the family Strigidae. Barn owls not only belong to a different genus (Tyto), BUT A DIFFERENT FAMILY ENTIRELY (Tytonidae). So why in the FUCK did they choose a BARN OWL to play Bubo? Or, why did they name it Bubo, considering the fact that Athena’s owl is a little owl (Athene noctua). ORNITHOLOGY RAGE

...Anyway, she understandably refuses. Which is when Hephaestus (Pat Roach) steps up to make a metal replica of Athena’s companion. And yeah, Athena loves her owl almost as much as I love owls. Shae that she’s shit at naming them accurately, though.

The mechanical owl is sent to meet up with the group, as they ride through the desert. And, uh...this clockwork owl is cool, but also goofy as fuck. Also, looks nothing like a barn owl, but whatever. The mechanical owl, also named Bubo, speaks in clicks and whirs, which Perseus can somehow understand. He leads them to the shrine of the Greae.

As they head through the mountains, I think this is a good time to remind myself that this movie came out in 1981. Because I gotta tell ya, this movie feels way WAY OLDER than that. It’s weird, but it really feels completely out of its actual time. It seems like it should’ve come, like 10 or 15 years earlier, at the very least. It’s a little bit of the Harryhausen thing, sure, but it’s also the overall tone and feel of the film. It’s hard to explain, but it feels...old. TOO old.

Anyway, the group makes it to the mountains where the sisters live, and leave Ammon and Andromeda at the base, leaving just Perseus, Thallo, and the soldiers. Bubo’s coming along as well, and...yeah, the owl throws shit off. Especially as we meet the surprisingly accurate Greae (Flora Robson, Anna Manahan, and Freda Jackson).

The Greae, or Grey Sisters, or Stygian Witches as they’re called in the film, are three blind sisters who share a mystical eye, in the form of an orb. They’re pretty goddamn great, honestly. Perseus uses Bubo to steal the eye, in order to give Perseus leverage and get the answer he seeks.

His question is, in this case, how a mortal man can defeat the Kraken. They tell him that he can do so by optaining the head of Medusa, the Gorgon, whose gaze yaddayaddayadda. Additionally, her blood is deadly poisonous. Perseus gives back the eye, and they head back down to Ammon and Andromeda. At a fire, Ammon tells the myth of Medusa. Here, though, she was a priestess of Aphrodite instead of Athena, and was...seduced...by Poseidon. Whoof. To be fair, the whole “raped by Poseidon” thing is a relatively recent revelation in scholarly circles, and to be even more fair...they probably couldn’t mention that shit in a movie for all audiences, especially in 1981.

Andromeda’s put off by the story of the dangerous Medusa, and worries greatly for Perseus. He tells her to stay behind, but she continues to insist on going with him. She goes to sleep, and wakes up to only Ammon, as Perseus has left her behind for her own safety.

Perseus and the soldiers make it to the shore, where Medusa’s lair lies on the “Isle of the Dead”. Said island is in...the River Styx...and to get there, you have to pay the ferryman...CharonOK LOOK.

MEDUSA DOES NOT LIVE IN THE UNDERWORLD, OK? She lived on an island either off of the Aegean Coast, or in Libya, for god’s sakes. She was NOT dead, she was cursed. And Charon WOULD NOT BE THERE, because the River Styx in in the GODDAMN UNDERWORLD. This is wrong on...so many goddamn levels. What’s next, is Cerberus gonna be here for some goddamn reason? Yeah, right.

Well, Perseus and the men, with the aid of Charon, make it across, and onto the Island of the dead. They see many statues here, and Perseus tells them to use the mirrored sides of their shield if they are to encounter Medusa. However, they encounter...Cerberus’ brother.

...Huh. I mean, at least it isn’t Cerberus. No, this is Orthrus, an actual mythological two-headed dog, and actually Cerberus’ brother. Orthrus manages to take out one of the soldiers, leaving Perseus and two guys for backup. Perseus kills him, and they head into Medusa’s temple to take her out.

The atmosphere in the temple is admittedly eerie, as the group does their best to make it through alive and undetected. One guy goes down by arrow shot, though, and soon after that, we see where the arrow came from. And unfortunately for him, so does the other soldier, first hand.

Perseus uses the mirrored shield to distract Medusa, who actually does look pretty great. This is, by the way, the one thing from the reboot film that I think they did pretty well, honestly. And I see that they got many of Medusa’s flourishes specifically from this film. Neat! Anyway, Perseus bides his time, but he gets her. He slices of Medusa’s head, killing the snakewoman outright. He collects the head, but leaves the shield LIKE A DUMBASS. Said shield is dissolved by Medusa’s blood, and Perseus leaves the temple.

On the other shore, Perseus reconvenes with the men and Bubo, and puts the head in a bag. There, of course, Calibos arrives, even though Bubo is SUPPOSED to be the LOOKOUT, goddamn it. Calibos knocks the useless Bubo into the water, and goes to work. He stabs the head, causing it to leak blood droplets that turn into three gigantic scorpions. Um...sure. The scorpions kill the other soldiers, Thallo included. Well, damn. However, Perseus is now PISSED, and kills both the scorpions AND Calibos in revenge.

Afterwards, Perseus drinks from the river, injured and weak. Finally, Bubo climbs out, deciding to be of some use for once. Perseus tells him to find Pegasus, who’s still being held captive by Calibos’ men and the giant vulture. Bubo agrees, and flies off to their camp, where he chases off the men and vulture. Yeah. A tiny golden owl who was defeated by WATER just fought off 5 guys and a giant vulture. AND set the camp on fire, AND released Pegasus. Geez, Bubo, way to wait until the last goddamn second to be useful.

Meanwhile, in Joppa...well, thinks aren’t amazing in Joppa at the moment. Time’s up, and Andromeda’s death date is here. Perseus, head in tow and...no sword. He forgot it with Calibos, didn’t he? DAMMIT PERSEUS PICK UP YOUR SHIT. Anyway, he stumbles back to the amphitheatre in Joppa, where he collapses. In Olympus, Zeus observes all of this, and Thetis tells him that it’s time to kill Andromeda with the Kraken. He’s been surprisingly cool with all of this for...some reason, and tells Poseidon to release the Kraken to kill Andromeda. But he also revitalizes Perseus in the process.

Off the coast of Joppa, Poseidon watches as the Kraken is released. And, uh...I think the time has come. See, the Kraken is the film’s version of the monster Cetus, who I always saw as a monstrous sea serpent. The film however...

...He looks goofy. Sorry, I AM SORRY, but he looks silly to me. It’s not helped by his noodle arms and weird fish body, I guess, but dude looks silly to me. I’ll give the 2010 movie credit, that Kraken actually did look pretty goddamn terrifying.

Well, as planned, Perseus makes his way there on Pegasus (it’s weirdly drawn out, though), and with Bubo assisting him, whips out his secret weapon: the head of Medusa.

And bing bang boom, before you know it, the Kraken’s a stone statue, and falls apart into the sea. Andromeda’s saved, the Kraken is dead, and Joppa cheers! Perseus decides to lose yet one more weapon, and tosses Medusa’s head into the sea. He frees Andromeda, and the two finally get married after all of that.

In Olympus, Zeus triumphs, having won over with his nepotistic bullshit. The other gods fear what would happen if other heroes like Perseus were to appear, and if humans could one day learn to have imagination and tenacity like him. But Zeus brushes it off, and forbids the gods from ever going after Perseus again. He gives Perseus, Andromeda, Pegasus, and Cassiopeia (for some reason) constellations. Because, yeah, that’s the kind of thing Zeus does.

Because, even if mankind abandons the gods, stars will last forever, and the stories of Perseus will last until the end of time.

And that’s Clash of the Titans! I have thoughts! I have thoughts. See you in the Review.

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breakingsomething · 4 years ago

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the fall part twenty one - rise

basic summary: marvin and naomi try to be normal. the jackson-schneeplestein brothers aren't getting along. and jackie, aaron and rhea do something that may have disastrous consequences.

trigger warnings: mentions of suicide, murder and abuse, experimentation, hypnotism

tagslist: @synonymsforzombie @spicydanhowell @skyewardlight @dreaming-of-stories-and-stars @cest-mellow @graveyardlettuce @lower-your-expectationss

summary of what happened last time since it's been a full month: jamie hung out with his family on his birthday, resulting in a small breakfast over carving pumpkins. anti brought jamie a birthday gift. rhea and aaron had an argument that ended with jackie accidentally hypnotism aaron to make him shut up.

"you know," marvin said, pausing to sip his hot chocolate. "this is nice."

"it is," naomi agreed. she fumbled with her muffin, picking out a blueberry and popping it in her mouth. "it's been a long time since i've been on a proper date with someone. years, even."

the two of them had made an impulse decision that morning to go to costa and buy muffins and drinks, and it was turning out to have been a fantastic idea. the weather wasn't the best, and it was drizzling outside, but naomi gleefully exclaimed that she loved the rain, and marvin joked that maybe she was a flower herself and needed it to photosynthesize, and naomi pouted and called him a fire, jokingly suggesting that the rain might put him out and teach him how to have fun. he was very glad they had decided to sit outside now. they could listen to the rain from their cozy spot under the canopy as they drank their warm drinks, watching people go by. the air smelled like fresh rain. like jamie's magic, marvin thought, but less sharp. less cold. jamie was like ice. always had been. it was strange to think about.

"you alright?" naomi asked, snapping marvin from his thoughts. she smirked, shaking cinnamon hair from her eyes as she put on an exaggerated playful tone. "enjoying the view?"

he laughed, leaning forward in his seat. "of course! these muffins are absolutely beautiful, stunning, really -"

she smacked his hand, laughing before taking a chunk out his muffin. "you're right, they are! especially yours." she flashed him a grin, a small smudge of chocolate on her lips. marvin brushed it away with his thumb, grinning and bumping their noses together. he could hear naomi giggling. "you're such a soft bastard. aren't you going to try and steal mine?"

"no, i am not, because i am the one winning," he said softly against her lips, then pressed his mouth to hers. she tasted like chocolate. he pulled away after a moment, chest shaking. "fuck, this is so much harder to do while i'm still laughing."

naomi dropped her head to his shoulder. "such a romantic," she chuckled. "god, we are becoming the sappiest couple, aren't we?"

"maybe so." he ran his fingers through her hair, watching a van trundle down the glistening street. "who cares? life is short, might as well drink hot chocolate and be cheesy in a costa. we're all gonna die anyway."

naomi sat up, shaking her head. "a romantic indeed," she deadpanned, rolling her eyes with a smile. she flicked a blueberry at him from her muffin. "you sure know exactly how to flirt with a girl -"

"hey, hey, hey, i'm clearly - clearly a fantastic flirt," he said, holding up both hands. "you're dating me, after all."

"ha, yes, because i felt bad for your awful romancing skills -"

"rude!"

they continued jokingly bickering as they ate until both muffins were fully gone, partially eaten by each magician. the rain had gotten heavier, and naomi pulled up her hood, tapping her chin as she stared off into space. marvin tapped her arm. "penny for your thoughts?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. naomi jolted then sighed, relaxing into her hand and staring down at her hands.

"i dunno," she murmured. "so much is happening all at once. i feel like it can't all be real. you know what i mean?" she traced a finger round her plate in circles, frowning. "that could be just me. i swear i've been taking my meds."

marvin shook his head. "no, i get it. everything's bullshit, world is a fuck." he glanced around before lighting the tips of his fingers on fire and brushing them over his drink to heat it up again. "but it is real, ok? you're not imagining this or making it up."

she chuckled. "i don't know whether to be reassured by that or not. also, stop with the flames. you'll get us in trouble."

marvin shrugged. "nah, the veil will cover it up," he said nonchalantly, but extinguished the flames anyway. he sighed, rubbing his forehead. "mhm. i'm so tired, nai."

"go to bed earlier, then," she said playfully, but with a quiet tone. she pat his hand, watching the rain fall.

he heard his phone ring.

"shit," he muttered, not moving to answer it. instead, he leaned back in his seat, picking up his spoon and twirling it in the air. "weather's nice."

"your phone's ringing," naomi pointed out.

"let it ring." he reached across the table and kissed her again, touching the back of her head gently. "we should do this more often."

she giggled and was about to say something else when marvin's phone went off again. he sat back with an exaggerated groan, rolling his eyes to the sky.

"place your bets," he announced sarcastically, pulling his phone out and blowing a raspberry at naomi's amused expression. "will it be… chase, calling to ask if i ate the last bag of prawn cocktail crisps? i did, by the way, but don't tell him that. or will it be henrik, calling to ask where i am despite saying i was going out with you this morning? or will it inexplicably be anti, using the scraps of magic he has left to yell at me for some reason? find out within the next couple seconds, because - hello?"

"marvin," came kazuki's voice. "so, bad news. your magic book has been stolen, and i don't think it takes a genius to find out who took it."

chase clinked the spoon against the side of a cup as he stirred his tea, pausing to dump more sugar in it. henrik watched all this from the kitchen table, slightly amused. "mein gott, chase, you're going to have a heart attack and die."

"and when that happens, i'll have a doctor right here to save me," chase grinned smoothly before knocking back half the cup. immediately after he did he began to splutter, coughing and dripping tea down his chin. "shit - shit, fuck, hot hot hot hot!"

"lovely," henrik deadpanned, taking a calm sip of his coffee. "how graceful a man you are."

chase flipped him off, wiping his chin as jamie wandered in, confusion plastered across his face. "good morning?" he signed, his expression suggesting it was a question.

"morning, james," henrik greeted warmly. "chase is dying."

"that's not ideal," jamie said, sitting down at the table and stretching his arms out. "are you alright, chase?"

chase nodded, face bright red. "very hot," he coughed. "very very hot. i'm fine, i'll live."

henrik chuckled, shaking his head. "you're a wreck of a man. drink slower. or do i need to talk to you like you're connor?"

chase rolled his eyes. "shut it, you. where's marvin?"

"out with naomi," henrik said, shrugging. "he should be back soon. all dying aside, how are you this fine morning?"

chase finished his coughing fit and laughed, grabbing a tea towel to wipe up the spilled drink. "doing alright. how's you, james? sleep better?"

he nodded, smiling softly, but his eyes were far away. chase frowned, picking up his mug and sitting back down at the table. "hey, what's up?"

jamie shrugged. "anti," was all he signed. "thinking."

"oh, yeah," chase murmured, suddenly interested in his patterned socks. he and everyone else was all too aware of anti's visit a couple days ago to bring jamie his gifts. he noticed henrik had noticeably soured, staring into his mug. chase cleared his throat. "what… what are you thinking?"

another shrug. "don't know. a lot."

henrik muttered something that neither of them could quite catch. chase decided to ignore it, but jamie sat up, looking at him. "what?"

henrik blew the air out his cheeks, watching jamie's hands but not his face. a benefit of speaking sign, chase and henrik had long ago agreed on, was the lack of eye contact. "i don't want to talk about anti," he mumbled. jamie's face fell just slightly.

"ok," he signed carefully. "don't have to."

there was a tension in the air now that hadn't been there before. chase caught a breath, sipping his tea cautiously.

"you never ate the cookie he brought, did you?" henrik asked without warning. jamie raised an eyebrow, folding his arms across the table.

"what's it to you?" he said, movements almost flat. the tension was obvious now, and chase found himself standing up to make another mug of tea. why, he didn't know, but his heart was racing and he didn't want to turn to look at the others.

still, he could hear henrik's scowl in his voice. "because he could have poisoned it it something. who knows with that man?"

there was a pause, and chase made himself turn round to see jamie's response. "i know," he was saying cooly. "he's my brother and i know him better than any of the rest of you."

"i'm sure you do," henrik muttered, and both him and chase jumped when jamie suddenly slammed his fist to the table, making henrik's mug bounce. jamie had ice in his eyes, cold and unnerving. despite how ridiculously selfish it sounded, chase was glad he wasn't the one on the receiving end of the glare. if looks could kill, henrik would be very dead.

"if you have a problem," jamie signed, slowly, meticulously, so no one missed a word. "tell me upfront instead of being vague."

the kettle had finished boiling, and chase turned to finish his tea while henrik responded. "well," he heard him say, silent fury evident in his tone. "there is the small detail of your brother having held me in his own torture basement for over two months. i feel like - i feel like, with all the shit going on with jackie lately, you lot have forgotten this!"

chase flinched as jamie's fist hit the table again, slightly less furiously than the first time. "no one has forgotten," he signed, and chase wondered if he was imagining the trace of rain and petrichor in the air. "we know anti is not a good person. and we -"

"you're saying "we" a lot," henrik interrupted, and his gaze was also cold, calculating. he and jamie were never opposites; they were two peas in a pod, far too similar for their own good. "i don't think "you" know anything."

the room went very, very silent.

"you think so." jamie's expression was blank, his hands moving far too slowly. "you think i don't know anything, think i don't understand anti."

"jamie," henrik said, suddenly uncertain. "i - didn't mean -"

"no," jamie said. the smell of petrichor was stronger now, something cold radiating off of the man. "no. you spent two months of your life with anti. silly me. of course you understand him better than i do."

"i wasn't implying -"

"then what were you saying?" jamie suddenly exploded, knocking his chair back to hit the fridge as he stood. chase grabbed his mug, burning his fingers as he held it. "what, that you've seen him at his worst? that i couldn't possibly understand how bad he is? that only you went through trauma and that makes it all the worse for you?"

henrik's eyes were wide, and he managed to shake his head, month opening like he wanted to say something. jamie smirked dangerously, coldly. "oh, now you change your tune. because you remember that i spent - how long? over two years with anti? that i've seen far more of him than you ever will?"

jameson hit the table a third time, cold rage lining his face. "i've seen him at his best and his worst. i've seen him when he's vulnerable and hurting, i've seen him covered in blood after a kill, i've seen him have a panic attack after a nightmare, i've seen him when he's manic and making terrible decisions, i've seen him when he's shaking and desperate for someone to touch him, i've seen him depressed as fuck and joking about suicide, i've seen him furious and not paying attention to who it is he's hurting - and who do you think was there for him each time? who stitched up his wounds when he got into fights that he swore weren't intentional, who comforted him when he was hyperventilating and couldn't breathe through panic, who stopped him from committing multiple murders, who took the blows when there was no one else around?" jameson paused, resting his hands for a brief moment. "that was dear dapper jack. dapper jack the time traveler, dapper jack who was fucking made for anti, dapper jack whose very purpose was to fix anti's mistakes. do you have any idea of the things i've seen?"

there was a very silent pause.

"no," henrik murmured, eyes cast to the table. "i don't."

jameson wasn't smiling anymore, even mockingly. "that's right. you don't. you haven't seen the things i've rewinded, the things only i remember."

he took a shuddering breath, his gaze suddenly far away. "you haven't seen. you don't know how many times i've watched people die, people break, people say things they didn't mean to say. i've seen anti die, did you know? i've seen anti break and nearly kill himself, kill me. i've rewinded in my last moments of life. you - you don't even know it, but i've saved your lives as well. and i remember. i always remember." he goes silent. "i always remember."

chase's tea was lukewarm now. he still didn't drink it. henrik didn't say anything. his eyes were transfixed on jamie's, looking far away.

"so don't you dare tell me," jamie continued, and there was something in his face now - grief, a deep sadness, some kind of pain. "don't you dare tell me that i don't know anything. don't you dare. because i know far, far more than you could even begin to comprehend. far more than i wish i knew."

he raised his hand like he was going to hit the table again, but he didn't. he just stormed out the room, leaving behind only the smell of rain.

neither chase nor henrik spoke for a moment. chase was shaking. henrik was staring into the distance, and then let his head fall to the table, forehead resting against the wood.

"ich bin ein idiot," he mumbled. chase didn't disagree. just sipped his near cold tea and looked away.

"this is a terrible idea."

"oh, don't be such a paranoid worrywart, mckenzie. this is going to work perfectly."

jackie, aaron and rhea were in the city centre, sitting next to the fountain and quietly planning things out. rhea had insisted they all went out to get fresh air, which aaron had also protested was a bad idea ("we're literally fugitives running from the magic law, rhea, in what world is going out for no reason a good idea -"), and now the three of them were here instead of at rhea's place. and jackie, quite honestly, was beginning to get tired of the two of them fighting.

"i'm beginning to get tired of the two of you fighting," he sighed, stretching his leg out down the steps. "we're all in the same boat, so why don't we get along?"

"i think i've made my side of this plainly clear," aaron muttered, but didn't say more. rhea smiled up at jackie, and his heart swelled with guilt. he knew why aaron was being more reluctant to fight. his head still hurt thinking about the hypnotism he'd accidentally placed on his boyfriend, and he looked away, staring at the shops across the street.

"we're all enemies of restitutio now," rhea was saying, tapping on the notebook she'd brought along with her to doodle in and take notes that neither jackie nor aaron understood. "so we have to be really careful. i'm probably going to be your best bet, being blake's sister and all. i know how to get in and out. mckenzie, you know where the other two necklaces are, correct? i'm assuming they're in the same place as jackson's one."

aaron frowned. "ok, first of all, stop calling him jackson. second of all, do you not know any of this information yourself? i figured with you being bl- being - being the stiùiriche's sister and all."

rhea smirked at his inability to say the name. "i can call jackson whatever i want. why, does it annoy you? also, blake always hid the information from me. guess he never trusted me, huh? he was right not to, but it still breaks my heart." she clapped a hand over her chest, expression unchanging. jackie sighed, preparing to jump in the middle of another fight.

but he didn't have to. aaron just grinned sharply, shaking hair out his face. "ah, so you're relying on the dunderhead to get you the necklaces, huh? how funny. yes, i know where they are. do we have, like, a map of the place?"

rhea rolled her eyes. "a map? are you serious? oh yes, mckenzie, i have a map of the goddamn secret magic organization base that my family has been working to keep hidden for years -"

aaron threw up his hands. "ok, so there's no map, i get it, chill. sorry for insulting your bloodline or whatever." he grabbed rhea's notebook from the fountain steps and began to draw, much to rhea's loud dismay.

"did you - are you drawing a map?" she asked in disbelief. "how do you remember the layout so well?"

"i just do," aaron sing-songed, the red pen gliding across the page. "with our knowledge combined, then i suppose we'll know enough that this isn't a suicide mission. rhea, you're taking the stiùiriche, yeah?"

she nodded. "yep. shouldn't be too hard, he's a pussy when it comes to me. loves me too much, even though i've done such terrible things." another smirk split her face. "so full of weakness. he and your anti are very similar. think themselves strong but are honestly just pathetic. slightly unrelated, but do you guys wanna hear something fun?"

jackie nodded while aaron groaned. "is this something that's gonna get us killed?" he sighed deeply. rhea placed a finger over her lips, gathering up her stuff and leaping to her feet. jackie and aaron scrambled after her, exchanging glances.

"here's a secret," rhea said, and she appeared to be leading them to the co-op on the corner. "i'm not actually a shapeshifter. i know, surprising, right? but i'm not."

aaron snorted softly as they entered the shop, the air instantly warmer and the bustling of people replaced with the hum of a heater. "like hell you're not. we've seen you do it."

rhea grinned. "have you? have you really seen anything? nothing is real anymore, mckenzie, better get used to it."

"if you're not a shifter, then what?" jackie interjected quickly before aaron could say anything in response. "you can change your appearance and such. that's something i'm certain of."

rhea walked down the frozen food aisle, casually inspecting the variety of pizza brands. "i can change my appearance, yes, but not like that. you both know of the veil. what would you say if i told you it was possible to control it?"

jackie blinked. "i'd say… nothing surprises me anymore?"

rhea grinned. her eyes changed from golden yellow to bright pink, growing larger, hair shrinking back into her scalp as her nose turned up and smile became wider, teeth darkening to a near solid black. "not real," she said, and skipped down to the next aisle, grinning at them before changing back with a crack. "just an illusion."

"you're… you're saying you can manipulate the veil?" aaron said skeptically. he crossed his arms firmly. "prove it."

rhea cocked her head, raising an eyebrow. then she walked up to the cash register, a spring in her step, and grabbed a bag of popcorn and a chocolate bar from the shelf next to it. looking the woman behind the counter dead in the eye, she turned and left the store without paying. jackie and aaron followed, mouths agape in shock.

"how did the cashier not notice?" jackie said in disbelief, following rhea back to the fountain. rhea shrugged, smiling wickedly.

"veil manipulation," she said casually. "you could probably do it too. not as well as me, but you could do it. here, let me show you."

she raises her hands, motioning for the other two to follow her. jackie does so, feeling a bit silly. "you have to concentrate on what you want other people to see. it's like knitting in the air, but with illusions. have either of you done illusions before?"

jackie nodded, while aaron shook his head. "i specialize mostly in attack based magic," aaron explained.

"and i used to do light based illusions for -" jackie paused, stiffening. he didn't want to think about chase's kids right now. "yeah. is it anything like that?"

rhea raised an eyebrow at jackie's cutoff, but didn't press it. "in a way. but it's not like manipulating a real thing you can see. light is different. you're taking actual strands of light from the sun, or from fabricated light if you're indoors, and weaving them into shapes. the veil is different because you can't see it, and you can only feel it if you're connected to it. and if you want to connect with it, you have to understand exactly what you're doing. let's start simple." she turned to them, cross legged, and slowly blinked. her eyes changed from gold to purple. "you have to be confident, and you have to be aware. falter, and the illusion falters."

both men blinked, practically straining with the useless effort. "how are you so good at it?" jackie asked, frustrated.

"years of practice," was the response. "since i was born. my mother taught me. she always favoured me over blake, and she was an incredible magician. better than my father, i'd say. honestly, me and blake should have fought for the position of stiùiriche. i would have won." her eyes cleared and she shook her head, realizing how off track she was getting. "but yes, it's hard. we'll have plenty of time to learn later." she straightens, pulling out her notebook again and grinning at jackie and aaron satisfactorily. "for now, we have a magical organization to rob."

"so," aaron said. "this is it?"

jackie could not believe the irony of there being a secret entrance to restitutio right next to anti's old waterworks. a crack in the universe just between the trees, a literal hole in reality that no one else had ever found. "holy shit," he breathed, shaking his head in shock. "no fucking way. no fucking way this has been here since you were a kid and the bastard somehow never found it."

rhea shrugged, trying not to look too pleased with herself. "i found it years ago. when you told me anti used to live here, i almost couldn't believe it." she slipped through the trees, narrowly avoiding catching her hair on a branch. "to be fair, you'd have to be an extremely powerful magician to find this without knowing the spell word, and anti is not, and never was, a powerful magician. oh, bitch boy can teleport and fly as a cloud of static? bitch boy can fuck with computers? he's not special. he can't even fully control it - sorry, couldn't, because he's got nothing now, huh? well." she shot jackie a glance. "almost nothing."

jackie winced, remembering anti's brief teleportation that had managed to hurt rhea. he still didn't understand how that had happened, given that jackie thought he had all his magic. "unimportant now. we need to focus on where we're going. you two know the place far better than i do, so -"

"yes, we know, jackie," rhea snapped. she pulled aside a branch and sarcastically gestured for them to go through. "after you. and when you get inside, duck as soon as you can. go."

"wait, the entrance is here?" aaron started, and rhea rolled her eyes before pushing him through. aaron yelped and - disappeared. jackie was given only a moment to gape before he was pushed after him.

he was now in a black room, and a quick, frantic grab around him told him he was in some sort of closet. there was a door in front that was almost entirely made of glass, and jackie now understood why rhea had told them to duck. he feels aaron beside him, breathing heavily in the dark. "hey," he managed to say aloud. "how's it going?"

"shut up," hissed another voice, and jackie jumped before realizing it was rhea. "we're in a closet that's connected to a hallway, so anyone could just walk by. stay still while i check."

they didn't move as rhea slowly rose, a faint mist around her face. "coast's clear," she said softly, and the door opened with only a tiny click, exposing them to a plain white hall with no other defining features other than a camera on the wall. rhea sighed. "jackson, would you like the honour of fixing that?"

jackie really wasn't accustomed to using anti's magic. but he'd been practicing, and with a single flick of his hand, he could somehow see into the camera, see every inner working, see everything it was connected to. "woah," he breathed, raising his hand higher like he was trying to get a signal. "if this is how anti always saw things, i can see why he went bloody mental."

"hurry up and loop them," rhea reminded, and jackie startled before doing as she asked. with the cameras fixed, they fully stepped out into the hall, pressed against the wall as they caught their breaths, rhea already calculating the way. "ok, so jackie, you keep an eye on the cameras. i'll do my best to hide us all if anything happens. mckenzie, you're our backup in case everything goes to shit. you're our attack dog."

"course i am," aaron muttered, but didn't complain. they set off round the corner, rhea still leading, aaron in tow. they didn't see anyone for a while, and they moved slowly, jackie getting the hang of looping the camera feeds as they went.

suddenly, rhea stopped. "shit!' she gasped, and threw her hands up. a blurry shield of sorts lifted over them, and they all went dead silent as two men walked by, wearing dark outfits and speaking in hushed tones. pressed against the wall, the three of them didn't breathe. jackie could feel all three of their thoughts aligning to please don't catch us, please don't catch us, please don't catch us. he could hear aaron's heart beating and gripped his hand tightly, feeling how hot his palms were.

"- don't understand why she never bloody listens to me," the first man was saying quietly. he had light brown hair and almost greyish skin, a cloak shrugged over his shoulders. "i do everything for her. everything! i gave up meat for her, i basically stopped smoking for her - and yet i'm the problem! what the fuck does she want?"

"maybe you're shite in bed," sniggered the other man, who had dark skin and an unfortunate mullet. "or maybe you're just a dick and she doesn't like you."

the first man elbowed him in the side, slowing to check his phone. jackie's legs were shaking, and he lifted a hand to clamp over his mouth so he wouldn't cry out. "fuck off," the man scoffed as the second man laughed. "she loves me really. she just never cares - i say "i'm off to work," and she says "are you actually going to meet up with edward again" and maybe i am, but she doesn't know that and still doesn't trust me!"

they slowly began to walk again, and the second man slapped the first man on the back. "perry," he giggled, shaking his head. "sometimes i wish you'd listen to the horseshit that came out your mouth before you made me hear it."

the two of them continued bickering quietly as they rounded the corner, and as soon as they were gone, jackie gasped and fell fully into aaron, burying his face in his chest. "motherfucker," he heard rhea say as she dropped the illusion around them. "that guy was a right prick. i hope his partner cuts his d- jackson? fuck, what's up?"

jackie was clinging to the front of aaron's jacket, shaking. "i -" was all he managed to get out for a moment. "mistake, this is bad, we need to stop and go back -"

rhea scoffed. "don't be such a pussy. you get one scare and that's enough to send you running?"

"he said he doesn't want to!" aaron said loudly from above him. jackie felt the man's fingers curl into his hair protectively, holding him close. "and i don't want to either. this is fucking bullshit, and i -"

"hello?"

they all froze.

rhea went very, very pale.

"blake," she mouthed, and grabbed the two men by the collar, yanking them down the hall as fast as she could. they flew through the door to a stairwell and practically fell down them, listening to voices getting closer. at the bottom was another door, which they shoved through into a different hall with a fake window on the end. jackie could barely breathe, wiping cameras as quickly as he could, and then suddenly rhea was shoving them into a room and shutting the door, leaning against the small window. they could see a blurry shape on the other side - jackie couldn't tell if it was the stiùiriche or not - before they disappeared, leaving the three of them in silence.

"thank fuck," rhea whispered, voice very high. "that was definitely blake, and he would have seen through any of my illusions. shit, we're lucky to have gotten away with that."

aaron was tugging on jackie's sleeve. "jay," he hissed. jackie couldn't even turn, just closed his eyes and let his forehead rest against the door.

"where are we now?" he said quietly. his breathing was slowing back to normal, and he shuddered briefly, sighing.

"jay," aaron said again. "jackson."

"we should be just under the floor we were on," rhea murmured. "we're close now, so we might as well -"

"guys!"

they both turned in unison to see what aaron wanted. "what's the pr-" jackie started, before he finally took a look at the room they were in.

it genuinely looked like a lab from a horror movie. the room was lit up blue, a desk and trolley full of beakers and surgical tools next to bottles of multicoloured liquids, like potions. curtains hung over strange rectangular boxes. but none of that was what they were focusing on. in the centre of the room was a large, complex looking bed surrounded by black machines, and in the bed was a man. dark, greying skin and shaved coiled hair, wearing a white hospital gown. tubes stabbed into his skin, connecting to the machine. a nasal cannula on his face. pale and sickly, dead looking. it took jackie a moment to recognize him and when he did, it was like a direct kick to the chest.

"holy shit," aaron said in a high voice. "is that - is that not your brother's ex boyfriend?"

because yes, it was raymond. marvin's bastard ex. jackie couldn't breathe.

rhea stepped forward, eyes sparkling with curiosity. "my god, they did it," she murmured, tapping the side of the machine. "the fuckers went and did it."

"did - what?" jackie managed to choke out. "i - rhea, what are they doing to him?"

rhea turned back and rolled her eyes. "why do you care? it's your fault he's here in the first place. you chose to bring him here. didn't you say you hated him, hated him the same way you hated anti?" a raised eyebrow, another smirk. "didn't you want to hurt him?"

"this is so fucked," aaron sobbed, clamping his hands over his ears as he groaned in disgust. "rhea, for fuck's sake, tell us what they're doing to him!"

she sighed. "they're extracting his magic." she said this in a tone so casual that it took a moment to sink in. "i didn't think they'd manage it, but this machine is new. it tears every strip of magic from your body and, depending how much of it was in you, you'll either literally shrivel up and die or you'll lose half your senses and maybe a limb or two."

aaron turned and threw up. jackie found himself at rhea's side, watching the skeletal man's chest rise and fall, wheezing. "is he dead?" jackie breathed, something hot and unpleasant stirring in his chest. "and - why are they taking his magic?"

"he's not dead, no," rhea said matter of factly, leaning against the dark machine. "not yet. and as for your second question - think of it this way. you know how you took part of anti's soul and therefore gained most of his magic and a bunch of his memories? it's like that, only slightly different. they don't take the soul. only the pure, unreached magic. they use it to fuel their own. so they won't gain this man's powers when they use it, but instead, their own magic will be stronger."

"this is so messed up," aaron moaned, straightening from the corner he'd been vomiting in. he was pale, shivering. "we can't - we can't do this. we can't."

"oh, come on!" rhea said loudly, throwing up her hands and letting then flop to her sides. "you helped torture anti, did you not? he's human too, probably! human like this guy! both of them pricks, correct? both of them people who have hurt one or more of your brothers? why is it so wrong for anti to hurt and not him?"

even jackie didn't have an answer. not only that, but… there was a small, disgusted part of him that was almost satisfied to see raymond like this.

he wondered what marvin would say if he could see him now.

"this isn't important right now," aaron suddenly spat. he stormed towards them and grabbed jackie's hand, holding it tightly in his own. "are we going to get these bloody necklaces or what? let's go, i'm tired of fucking standing here."

both rhea and jackie were surprised by aaron's sudden change of heart, but neither one complained. they checked that the coast was clear and set off again, clicking the door behind them. jackie didn't look back at raymond.

"blake's corridor is over here," rhea said, guiding them through a hall and briefly throwing up a veiled illusion to hide them from someone walking by. jackie held his breath until they were gone. "the stiùiriche always gets a corridor to themself, lucky bastard. mckenzie, this is your time to shine. hopefully we can get in and out without too much trouble, but if not…" she cracked her neck. "blake is mine."

the hallway was dark, and no one was around. "he doesn't like people being around," rhea said quietly. their footsteps were the only sound they could hear. "back when he was announced as the new stiùiriche, even i wasn't usually allowed to - shit!"

she grabbed them and pulled them against the wall. on the staircase, seen through the window across the opposing room, staring right at them… was a man. short brown hair, pale skin, a black hoodie. jackie recognized him. fuck, but jackie recognized him.

is someone up above trying to fuck with me today? he thought. what the hell is going on?

"shouldn't we move?" aaron said. "he's seen us!"

"too late," rhea murmured. "way too late."

the man watched them.

"will he tell the stiùiriche?" jackie asked, heart racing.

"most likely," rhea replied.

aaron leaped forward, holding up his hands with a look of confusion on his face. "am i missing something? who is that?"

"unimportant," rhea said immediately. "let's go. if he's over there, blake probably is too. hopefully we'll be ok."

she took off down the hall. aaron fell into step beside jackie, shaking his arm to get his attention. "jackson. are you hiding something from me?"

guilt rolled in his chest. "shut up," he mumbled, hating himself as he said it. "i'll tell you later."

he did not plan to tell him later.

aaron let go of his hand.

"is this it?" rhea asked. they'd gone through another few rooms, seeing no one, and was now in what looked like some sort of strange dressing room, lit up yellow, lined with shelves and full of closets and desks. "or are we near it? you guys are so lucky i know the spell words to get into blake's places, by the way, otherwise you'd so be screwed. this place is fucking weird."

"we're close," aaron muttered. he'd been very quiet since seeing the man on the stairs. he moved across the room, opening closets and peeking inside. "i found this place when i left a meeting with the stiùiriche and went looking through some of the rooms while the spells were down for me. i was a rather well trusted member, and the magician who was to escort me out basically told me to go by myself. normally, i wouldn't have taken anything, but something seemed to be almost… compelling me. and i guess i'm glad i did." he paused in his search, expression unreadable. "maybe."

a few minutes of looking, and it was rhea who found what they were looking for in one of the many closets in the room. "blake's hidden safe," she breathed, staring into a black void with no apparent end. "i never knew where it was. he never let me in here. mckenzie, you legend!"

aaron just snorted, looking distant. "yeah, sure. let's go in and get the shit and then go home and be powerful, i guess." his tone was dripping with sarcasm.

jackie went in after rhea, staring in awe round the place. it was a literal abyss, with only a few glowing lights, like beacons. "your brother sure has a thing for creepy voids," jackie joked, trying to lighten the mood.

rhea wasn't paying attention. she marched across the floor - jackie blinked behind his glasses, because it looked like she was floating - and went up to the farthest beacon, eyes wide. "here," she gasped, beckoning jackie over. "quick, come here!"

it was the necklaces, laying on two white pedestals under glowing lights from an unknown source. they looked a lot like jackie's necklace, only slightly different colours; while jackie's was jet black, one was a deep silver with a red gem and the other was a golden copper with a green gem. "souls," rhea murmured, picking up the golden one and turning it over in her hands. "weapons. i wonder if they work the same as yours, jackie? mckenzie, come and - mckenzie?"

they both turned. aaron was gone.

"well, that's not good," rhea said lightly.

"shit," jackie hissed. he grabbed the other necklace, wincing at how it burned his hands, and darted back over to where the glowing entrance of the safe was. his feet didn't make a sound as he ran. "we got what we needed, let's find aaron and go."

"aw, do we have to?" rhea complained. she was fixing the necklace to her neck, letting it fall to her chest. "he's boring, can we leave him? he's probably off being emo because you wouldn't tell him who that other guy that you handed over to blake was."

"shut up!" jackie spat, stumbling out of the cupboard. panic was beginning to spike in his chest, and was it just his imagination, or were the lights flickering? "this was too easy, this was - this was a mistake. this was so a mistake, oh my god -"

"oh, yes. it was definitely a mistake."

that last voice wasn't rhea's. or aaron's.

jackie turned to face the stiùiriche himself.

he looked the same as last time he'd seen him. salt and pepper hair, galaxy suit that shifted as he walked, black cape, black eyes. he carried an aura of power and of demanding respect, head high and eyes blazing. already jackie was sinking, submitting to the pure magic the man radiated.

but then rhea stepped in. "blake," she said curtly, a polite grin on her face that only thinly disguised her malice. "how have you been?"

the stiùiriche glared down at them, arching an eyebrow. "stealing from me again, sister," he said, and he was looking at the necklaces in both their hands. "haven't you taken enough?"

rhea scoffed, her mask of indifference slipping. "mm, have i? i can think of a few more things i could strip you of. your position of power, your heart, your -"

jackie suddenly found himself swimming out the haze of near magic hypnotism that he'd been under, immediately beginning to shout. "where's aaron?" he cried, swaying on his feet. "what have you done with him?"

the stiùiriche frowned. "aaron mckenzie? the traitor man, the one who stole from me the first time? he is here too?"

"don't play dumb!" jackie roared, and before he could even think, his eyes and veins were blackening and the necklace was tightening on his chest. "give him back to me!"

then a hand was on his shoulder, pushing him back down when he hadn't even realized he was rising. "stop," rhea said sharply. "he's mine."

the lights in the room snapped off and plunged them into darkness.

when they turned back on… they weren't really back on. they were in another black void, like they always seemed to be with this guy. "is this one of your magic specialties?" jackie spat, leaning against rhea to keep her close. "weird black rooms?"

"pocket universes," he heard blake say, his voice echoing all around. "my specialty, yes, next to my… natural charm. hypnotism. i'm very good at it, jackieboy man, wouldn't you agree?"

"i -" he tried to direct a bolt of magic towards him, but the void seemed to swallow it up, and he couldn't even seem to pinpoint the stiùiriche's voice. "shut up! just shut up! stop it!"

"don't let him get to you," rhea shouted. she pressed her back to his, and the two of them briefly were one, spinning round, on defense, watching. "he uses emotion to his advantage. use your light! you're a photokinesis magician, are you not?"

jackie breathed in sharply, whimpering in sudden pain. "i am, i am, but - i - since the necklace, i -"

something began to laugh. "oh, that is rich," came the voice of the stiùiriche, and a sudden wave of magic hit the two of them, causing rhea to stumble and jackie to fall to the floor. "your light magic - it isn't compatible with the black soul magic that you stole, is it? the irony. the irony!"

"shut the fu͠cķ ͠u͞p̶!"̴ jackie screamed, and his magic began to thunder through his veins. rhea howled, and she was a wolf, she was an owl, she was a beast. something glowed - the stiùiriche's suit - and he hit them again. jackie, for a moment, couldn't move. he could barely see rhea, lashing out with coils of weak darkness, and blake, laughing, laughing.

"your illusions don't work on me, piuthar," the man said loudly, and jackie's vision spun. black inky shadows seeped from his eyes and nose and ears and in between his fingernails, and he attempted to use it to push himself to his feet. it worked, and he stumbled, looking frantically for rhea as blake rose, never staying in one place. "i see right through you. always have. how goes your quest to redeem yourself, rhea bird?"

"don't you dare," she hissed in the voice of a snake. something collided with flesh. something burned. "i have redeemed myself plenty without you. i have many powerful magicians under my control, wrapped around my little finger. you have no idea."

jackie did not know what she was talking about. he shot a bolt towards the dire direction of the man's voice, and seemed to get a lucky shot. the stiùiriche screamed, and something blew into jackie's face as he swayed, trying to get to rhea. "fuck," he moaned, feeling his body go light. "rhea, aaron, m-marvin… marvin…"

"where's your fucking boyfriend?" rhea cried, and jackie saw her leap aside, something dark coiled in her hands. "he was our attack dog, the bastard! this necklace isn't doing shit!"

jackie was going numb. his stomach lurched, head spinning with hypnotism, stronger than anti's own. fuck, he wished he knew how to control all this magic better. he was starting to become delirious. "marvin!" he yelled, voice breaking. "i can't - aaron, marvin!"

"jackson!"

aaron's voice. through jackie's blurred vision, he could see him in the broken doorway that hadn't been open a moment before. "come on!" he shouted, holding the doorway and straining as blake attempted to close it from where he was standing. "hurry up, i can't hold it!"

"traitor!" the stiùiriche screamed. rhea took this opportunity to roundhouse kick him right across the face. without even the use of magic, blake stumbled; the closing of the door paused, and jackie even within his delirious state knew to race over to the exit. "you traitor, pathetic boy! you could have had power!"

once again, jackie had no fucking clue what he was talking about. it seemed like he was feeling like that a lot lately. all he knew was that if he didn't get out, he'd be trapped in blake's pocket hell world, and that wasn't something he wanted. "rhea!" he called, feeling his legs beginning to give out beneath him. "come on, we've got what we need!"

the doorway was bright, and aaron's face felt even brighter. "thank fuck you're alright, hurry up!" he gasped, ushering jackie out the void. as soon as he was back in blake's strange dressing room - how many pocket universes did he have in these closets, because he was coming out of a different one than before - his mind began to clear, and fuck if it wasn't unnerving. had he really been hypnotized so easily, just by being in blake's presence? how was he still that weak, after everything?

"run, run, hurry!" aaron was shouting, and jackie snapped back to attention as the man grabbed his hand and pulled him out the room back into the hall. he could hear fighting behind them, something crashing, something exploding, something slamming into something else, someone screaming.

jackie tried to stop. "rhea, we need to wait for rhea!" he yelled over the noise. an alarm was blaring - rhea had mentioned that if they were caught, there was a chance an alarm could be set off. someone ahead was shouting - pounding footsteps, magic blasts - "stop, aaron, we have to make sure rhea's ok!"

"fuck rhea!" aaron panted. three other magicians materialized in front of them. fire glowed in one of their hands, and jackie and aaron stopped dead. "shit, shit -"

one of them lifted a hand, chanting something -

and jackie threw himself into aaron's arms, wrapping his arms around him as the sound of static filled the air louder and louder like a broken crescendo -

and they were in the trees next to the waterworks again.

they held each other for about thirty seconds, neither man daring to breathe, shaking, listening to each other's heartbeats in the silence.

"you teleported," aaron said, his voice very high. "you glitched, you did it, we're out, you -"

"where were you?" jackie whispered. he was too scared to pull away, too scared to let aaron see the look on his face. too scared to look at aaron's face. "where did you go? you left us, i was - aaron, i was…"

aaron pressed his lips to jackie's head, holding him upright with a hand on his back. "had to do something," he mumbled, something jackie couldn't understand in his voice. "i'm sorry. i'm sorry."

an awful feel began to sink in jackie's chest. "aaron. if you did what i think you did… i think rhea will genuinely kill you."

"then let's leave her," he said loudly, and sat straight up, eyes wide and desperate. "i have the necklace, which i really didn't need, but i have it. thank you for getting it for me, by the way." he took it from jackie's hands, admiring the unnatural silver shine. "we… we can go. we don't need her."

jackie pulled away so he could look at aaron's face, though he kept his arms round him just to keep him grounded. "you - what? we can't leave rhea, what the hell? why would we do that?"

aaron hesitated. "jackson. she's - she's fucked, she's with her brother. there's nothing else we can do, babe, we have to -"

"oh, planning on leaving me, were you?"

the two of them whipped round to see that yes, it was rhea emerging from the trees. she must have gotten out through the hidden portal in the closet again. her hair was singed, her nose bleeding and scratched, but she was very much undoubtedly alive. "rhea," jackie breathed, and without thinking, he broke free from aaron and ran over to give her a hug. she didn't return it. "rhea, what happened, i thought you were -"

"dead?" she laughed. something in her voice was harsh and cold. she didn't appear to find it funny at all. "nope. just got a bit caught up. nice to see you waited for me, though."

jackie winced, stepping back between aaron and rhea. "i - i wanted to, rhea, but some magicians were closing in and i ended up teleporting -"

"what's your excuse?" she suddenly said, turning to aaron. the mood in the air soured even further, the tension thick enough to be suffocating. "why did you leave?"

aaron, to his credit, didn't break as she stared him down. he stood tall, unblinking. something unspoken traveled between them. a threat. a promise.

jackie couldn't stand it. "let's not do this," he said quickly, raising his hands to act as a shield between them. "we can talk later. we need to get away in case the stiùiriche follows us or something. come on."

for a moment, neither aaron nor rhea moved. then the woman smiled, snakelike. "ok then. let's go. we can talk about all this later, yeah? we've got all the time in the world."

jackie didn't like the threat in her voice. but he had no choice but to follow her out of the trees and back to anti's old waterworks.

#boop writes #the fall #marvin the magnificent #chase brody #henrik von schneeplestein #jameson jackson #jackieboy man #naomi gudmundson #aaron mckenzie #rhea maclaren

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theonetheycallhannah · 4 years ago

Text

A Mage’s Blood-Part Two

Summary: Geralt deals with a comatose companion, comforts the displaced Geeta, and wades through his growing affection for another mage despite his reservations.

Pairing: Geralt/OFC (Anathema of Velena) and a bit of Geralt/OFC (Geeta) (totally platonically!) but it’s half/mostly Geralt dealing with the aftermath of the monster fight in the last installment of the story.

Word count: 4.5k

Rating/Warnings: M for language and violence. Some angst. Some fluff. Almost smut, but don’t get too excited, folks. I’m a bit cruel in this chapter. Shameless manipulation of the properties and qualities of character props for my own amusement and story advancement even though there is no evidence that such properties or qualities are a thing. (If you can’t suspend reality or rather fantasy, enough to accept what I did with this, I don’t know what to tell you, I thought it was clever, please don’t @ me. And maybe fan fiction isn’t your milieu.)

Inspiration: No changes from previous inspo note. Just this beautiful show, this stunning man, and like…my feelings, I guess.

Author’s Note: I’m really excited to write this chapter for Geralt. I’ve been wanting to talk about what’s been going on under that luscious white mane for ages. We go back to Ana in the next part, but this was crazy fun to write, especially the dream. PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF THESE POSTS NEED ANYTHING! PHOTOS OR GIFS...WHATEVER. Also, again, not beta’d, because as I said in the last installment’s author notes, my friends don’t play nice with the Cavillry. Lol! But I did read it at least twice.

Masterlist with links to previous chapters.

Tags: @fcgrizi @sunflowersstan @mylittlepartofthegalaxy@mstgsmy@lareinedususpense @geekycanuck @lunedelorient and @littlefreya Please let me know if you want to be tagged or if you want me not to tag you in things! I will not be offended!

Fucking Bruxae. That's all he was gonna say about this completely twisted and unpleasant situation they were in. Just. Fucking. Bruxae.

He reached for his potions pouch for the correct one to staunch bleeding…again. Damn, good thing his mage knew what to do for detox, because he hadn't had time to whip up a potion for that, himself. And he didn't think he had all of the ingredients, anyway.

Now this bitch was trying to call him a monster. Not that he could argue. He didn't. But he thought it was damned heavy handed of her. When she and her sisters were the ones who'd slaughtered thousands of people for no good reason.

Oh…he thought, after she explained herself…he'd heard worse reasons to lay waste to cities, if he was honest. Not that he was sympathizing. But the monologuing was giving him time to heal before he ended this once and for all.

Until…fuck.

"Ana! NO!" She had NOT just given herself away! That was the opposite of staying safe! As per their agreement! If they made it out of this alive, which he felt like he was constantly thinking these days, they were going to have a conversation about who was in charge in situations like this.

The Bruxa asked Ana who she was…Geralt thought that was quite the loaded question. He wasn't sure he could answer, himself. She had come to mean so much to him over such a short time. They'd found something of themselves in each other, he thought. He'd never quite found it with anyone else. Even Yen. Her explanation knocked him out of his stupor.

"I'm Anathema of Velena. I'm a mage. And much better equipped to sustain a bite than the poor little girl you've been hunting." She looked like a true warrior, standing in the column of light being cast out of the door to the fire-lit hovel, her steel in her right hand, dagger in the other, his silver wolf swinging from her neck. Thank the gods she'd put that on. His plan, the secret part of his plan, had worked. And they might just win the night, reclaim the day, and end the reign of terror these monsters had visited on this region for so many weeks.

"I don't see why it would hurt to try." Meena keened in a cackle that curdled Geralt's blood and charged at Ana. His neck wound essentially healed and forgotten, he jumped up and rushed to the two entangled in a vile and bloody embrace. Meena released her hold on Anathema's neck gasping as though she was drowning. As her sister before her, she was choking on blood as if it were pitch, although not quite as severely.

"What…have you…done to me…witcher?" she gasped as her body weakened from the poison she had just unwittingly consumed.

"You've done it to yourself, leech." He explained. "Ana was willing to let you drink from her, but you got greedy. You took what you wanted before an arrangement had been made. Don't touch her again." he interjected when Meena scowled at Ana as if she meant to finish her off. "She knew nothing of my plan. You see, that medallion is more than just a handy device to show me where the monsters and magic are hiding. It's a part of me. And the wearer takes on some of my…attributes. For instance, any potions I take affect the person wearing the medallion. Even if taking them personally would kill them instantly. That includes the Black Blood potion. Granted, the potions aren't as strong for the person wearing the medallion as they are for me, but it's enough, in most cases to do the trick." he pulled the Bruxa up to her knees as she continued to sputter and gasp for precious breath. And then he put her out of her asphyxiated misery by beheading her with a swift and sure swing of silver.

He rushed to Ana's side, the blood had been free flowing from her neck…reminding him too much of his past…of Blaviken…of…he made himself think her name, Renfri. He couldn't let Ana die like that. He wouldn't. He took out his canteen of water to rinse the blood and cleaned the wound, which was now barely trickling blood. The Kiss potion must have worked to an extent on her, as the Black Blood had. But she was barely conscious. He shook her as the bleeding ceased altogether.

"Anathema! Ana!!! Wake up, mage!"

"Mmm, 's there bacon?" she asked, groggy and still very out of it.

"Darling, it's nearly midnight. We've just defeated the Bruxae."

"Then why won' you lemme sleep?" she moaned. The venom of the Bruxa must still be working in her system. He couldn't take more potion right now and risk the toxicity to himself. He'd just have to try to get her somewhere safe until he could detox and take more. Then they'd have to take Geeta to Aretuza, he thought.

He had summoned Roach and Clove as soon as the Bruxa had been dispatched. He saw them trotting lazily toward him up the muddy, bloody street. He chanced leaving Ana there while he went into the house to gather their things and Geeta.

"Geeta, it's Geralt. Come on out, child. The monsters have gone."

The cupboard door creaked slowly open, permitting the right eye and nose of Geeta to peek out, warily.

"You sure it's safe?" she whispered. Unsure of the man who was still a stranger to her, and rightfully so.

"I am. Quite sure. Out with you now." and she exited with skepticism.

"Geeta, Miss Ana and I are going to leave now. And it's not safe for you to stay here. We want to take you to a place where you'll be safe and taken care of. Do you have any extra clothes or anything you need to bring with you from your home here?" She looked around the grim room and shrugged. He took his satchel from around his shoulder and tied a knot in the strap. He took a few important things out of it, and a bit of food, and the alcohol he needed for drinking and potions, and put it in his potions bag.

"Here," he slung the bag across her small body. "Find a little pillow and a blanket first, and put them into this bag. Then look around and see if there's anything else here you'd like to take with you." He hated seeing a child have to do this. But he knew it was ultimately going to be for her own good. The mages at Aretuza would know what she needed and with any luck, she could put this trauma behind her.

He started to gather the few things they'd left in the room. There hadn't been much. And it may not have been worth taking, but if Ana had wanted it, he didn't want it to be left behind.

He gathered Geeta, and hurried her to the door. As he walked past the cupboard, the glint of silver caught his eye…he couldn't justify leaving the tray there for marauders. Even if Geeta didn't want it and had no use for it…it had value. They may need to sell it. He grabbed it and shoved it into his saddlebag.

"Geeta, have you ever ridden a horse before?" she nodded, eyes sparkling with a nostalgia for which she was far too young.

"Oh yes, Mister Geralt! I used to get to ride Arrow all the time…that was my papa's horse." she looked sad. And Geralt understood, but he pushed her through her grief this time.

"Well, tonight, you're going to ride Clove. She's a very good horse. She's Miss Ana's horse. And I'm going to put some other bags and things on her, too. It shouldn't be too crowded for you though." he smiled at the girl as he loaded Clove with some of Roach's burden.

"Why isn't Miss Ana riding on her horse? It's her horse!" she seemed very concerned and confused.

"Well, Geeta, Miss Ana is very tired and can't ride by herself. She's going to ride on my horse, Roach, with me." he knelt beside Ana's comatose form to check and make sure she was still breathing. She was, slowly. Pulse fairly steady, not that he was a good judge, his own heart rate being so much slower than the normal for a human.

"Come here, little one." he lifted Geeta up onto Clove and handed her the reins. "Alright, now hold on while I get Miss Ana and myself onto Roach, then we can go." He hoisted Ana heroically onto Roach's neck, and then mounted up himself, eliciting an oppressed whinny from the steed.

"Hey, if I had another option, I'd take it, alright? We'll go slow, stop at the next inn that will room a witcher, and I'll buy you a big bag of apples. Fair?"

Roach whinnied again, complicit, if not happy.

~~~~~~~~~

It felt like hours they were riding. Geeta asked a few questions here and there, but wasn't the chatty nuisance he thought she would be. It was mostly the fact that he was concerned for Ana that made the time seem not to pass. He needed to get to the inn, meditate, detox, and take another healing potion so that she could recover from the Bruxa venom.

Thankfully, he saw the lights of an inn just ahead, and picked up their pace, signaling for Geeta and Clove to follow.

The Drowsy Bear was a bit quaint and simpering for his liking. Everyone was a bit too friendly and clean. There were no brawlers in the corner. No lascivious couplings being arranged and sampled by the fireside tables in the dining hall. Just a couple of men, who were probably father and son playing dice, apparently for fun, rather than money. He couldn’t comprehend what that must be like.

He arranged the room, keeping an eye out the large front window at the girls and the horses until the affluent matron got his key ready and took his coin.

He didn’t usually trust his horse to stable boys, but under these circumstances, he felt he had no choice. He let the boy take Clove and Roach to the stables as he burdened Geeta with what she could carry of Ana’s things, and took the rest himself, along with the mage, still almost as limp as a corpse.

“Stay close to me, Geeta. These people seem kind, but something tells me not to fully trust them.”

“Maybe you’re just not used to people being nice to you.” She said, with wisdom beyond her short years as she smiled and waved at a portly old man at the bar. Well…she didn’t have to call him out quite like that. He just grunted back at her in noncommittal reply. They were finally at their room. Once inside, Geralt flung Ana onto the bed, unceremoniously, and went quickly to the hearth to build a fire.

“Why aren’t people nice to you, Mister Geralt?” Geeta asked, such true concern and confusion in her voice that, although his instinct would have been to brush her off or to snap back, he actually tried to answer.

“Witchers like me can be dangerous, Geeta. We aren’t like most humans. We’ve changed so much that we aren’t actually humans anymore. And for some people, for most people, just being different is enough to make someone scary. I’m both different AND dangerous.”

“People were scared of my gran. She could do magic. She’d make little straw dollies dance for me. The day she died I got so upset. I didn’t want to look at any straw anymore. Then the haystack behind our house caught fire while I was staring at it.”

“That must have been scary for you." Geralt sympathized.

"Not the fire. But my mum was. She started yelling and looking for where the fire came from. But I was the only one there. She took me inside. It hurt my arm how she pulled me. And she yelled at me so loud. She told me I mustn't do anything like that ever again or I might get taken away from her. So I tried to be good…to not be…like gran…but it didn't matter. Because mum got taken from me instead." she started to cry. Geralt let the fire kindle a moment while he pulled the child into his lap.

"It's alright to cry, Geeta. It's alright to be scared. But you won't be forever. Did you know, I was about your age, and even a bit younger when I lost my family?" he saved her the heartbreaking details of his abandonment. She looked into his eyes with curiosity putting a stopper in the tear ducts. "It's true. I learned about the ways of being a witcher when I was just a boy. And I wasn't very old when I became one, either. I won't tell you I was never scared and I never cried, because I don't want to lie to you. But I cried less and became less scared the longer I worked and lived this life. And you'll be taken in by lovely people just like you who know how to help you control that power in you, the same power your gran had, and maybe even use it to help people."

"I'd like to help people. Is that what people like me do?" she asked, hopeful.

"Yes, if they're good and kind. Miss Ana is like you. She's a mage. And a rather good one. And very kind. She was trained at the place we're taking you."

"Really?" excitement vibrated through her tiny frame.

"Yes, really!" he chuckled. "But right now, I've got to try to make Miss Ana feel better. And I need to rest to do that. Why don't you get out your pillow and blanket and rest, too?" she climbed off his lap and emptied his satchel of her belongings as he gathered ingredients for a few potions he wanted to replenish. About an hour of meditation would be enough to detox and set the new potions. Once everything was prepared, he knelt on a small cushion he'd pulled from the bench by the door. He placed his palms on his thighs, checked one last time that Geeta was alright, which she was, and already deeply asleep, exhausted from the eventful evening, and closed his eyes.

At first he saw the typical imagery of his meditations. Trees over-burdened with lush green leaves allowing sparse but cheerful bursts of golden sunlight to peek through. The warmth of early summer was just beginning to weigh down the late morning air. A spring at the head of a brook bubbled a lively water song, cold, refreshing, over its pebbles. His toes played in the cool, soft grass at the water's edge where he sat, clothed in linen breeks and a tunic. Both still dark in color, but the stiffness of his leather armor and boots was all but forgotten here in this place of revitalization and tranquility. Here he could cast aside the witcher and be that small nugget of Geralt that killing monsters hadn't yet managed to fracture or destroy.

It was at this point in the meditation that he often chose whether to swim in the spring or to just breathe in it's clean, crisp vapors. Today felt like a breathing day, he was thinking, when he heard a splash in the dark pool before him. His eyes remained shut, trying to stay his path. He heard a laughter that was part carefree and musical, and part mischievous and deep. It was familiar. He'd heard this chuckle flip it's switches in conversation…recently. He heard the sultry, rich, but still sweet feminine voice call to him.

"Geralt! Come swim with me!" he shook his head, knowing that she wasn't really there.

"Come on, witcher! It's cold, and I need warming up!" he felt himself stir at the thought of being close to her wet body, but resisted again.

"Don't make me use magic, Geralt of Rivia!" and he felt an inexplicable weightlessness fill him, hovering him above the ground about four hands breadth. His eyes opened at this and he sat up on the bed of air Ana had conjured for him…the Ana of his dreams, it seemed. He looked at her, wet hair, black against her warm olive skin, tanned from her travels and years of coastal living. Her eyes flashed him that mysterious misty green of precious stones, her pupils not quite threatening to overtake the color as they had the night he'd taken her virginity…just last night, he thought, although it seemed a lifetime past. He could see her bare shoulders above the rippling surface of the crystal clear water, and could tell, also, that she was nude. This was his dream, after all. He stood, removed his tunic, and unlaced his breeks to step out of them. She grinned at him. It was somehow both sly and shy, and he didn't understand how she pulled that off.

"You already are, and I don't mean the levitation." he replied to her before hopping in. He sunk like a stone, into the unknown depths of the spring, but came back up right in front of her. He held her body, chilled and riddled with gooseflesh, to his warm and solid one. She sighed, content. He did likewise. He ran his hands along her soft, smooth curves under the cold water, sending shivers through her that were entirely unrelated to the temperature, he flattered himself to believe. She held him tighter, her arms slung around his neck, their height difference neutralized in the deep water. She seemed to assess him in an almost tactical manner before beginning a series of gentle kisses all over his face. His cheeks and forehead, his nose and chin, even his eyelids, shut from the bliss of her soft, full lips against him. His mouth was relaxed in a grin that was just open enough for her to kiss gently, intruding teasingly with her tender tongue. He responded slowly at first, returning into her mouth with his own tongue, but as their grips on one another tightened, his kiss became more searching and desperate, craving her taste.

He felt himself twitch and swell as his yearning for her grew stronger. She wrapped a leg around his hip, digging a heel into his ass. As he moved to line himself up with the only part of her that felt truly warm in the chilled spring, she moaned his name.

"Mmm, Geralt."

~~~~~~~

"Mmm, Geralt." he heard her moan, in reality, back in the now overwarm room of the inn, one hour down from his meditation…all he had needed, but fuck, if all his meditations went like that, he'd go for hours. The stiffness from his fantasy coming back with him in his wakefulness. Great. He made sure Geeta was still asleep, which she was, thankfully, and he stood, erect now in multiple ways, and went to the farthest corner of the room to try to release some of the pressure he felt. He had never brough someone into his meditations. Not like that. It unnerved him. He calmed his thoughts, remembering the blood of the battle and the sour stench of the near abandon hovel Geeta was cowering in, and it was helping, until Ana called for him again, so wantonly that all progress he'd made had been lost, and he gave up.

He walked over to grab a healing potion from his kit, and downed it quickly. He needed her to be better. He had never been more sure of anything, especially now, after that dream. The terror he'd felt when she'd stepped out of the hovel offering herself to the Bruxa had been unlike anything he'd felt since he began fighting monsters. He sat next to her on the bed, waiting for the potion to work through his blood and transfer to her through the magic of the medallion. He felt that maybe, making his presence and proximity known and felt in some way might help her. He stroked her hair. Thumbing tendrils away from her face, her lovely, heart-shaped face that even now, dewey from fever and slightly twisted in a soft frown was the most beautiful he'd ever seen. He got up to get a cloth dampened with water from the nearby pitcher and dab it over her head and neck. She was still a bit grimy and bloody from the attack of the Bruxa, but she had healed fully. They were just waiting now on the potion to eradicate the venom inside her. It worked almost instantly on him…but it didn't have to go through a magical filter, then, either.

Just when he wondered if he aught to try another dose or another potion, Ana's eyes fluttered and she groaned, writhing against what he presumed was the ache of poisoned muscles and veins being freed and cleansed. He had felt it a time or two in his day.

"Anathema! Darling are you alright?" he caressed the side of her face into his body, now relaxed with releif.

"Geralt?" she asked, looking around the room, confused and a bit frightened. "Where are we? Where's Geeta? What happened?"

"Everything is fine. Geeta is here with us, and we are at an inn on our way to Aretuza."

"Aretuza?"

"What do you remember about the fight, specifically the end, Ana?" Geralt whispered, hoping not to wake Geeta.

"I remember being down to just the two Bruxa, and one of them bit you, but succumbed to the Black Blood. Then I remember something about them needing a mage's blood…Geeta's!" suddenly she seemed to remember and sit up like a bolt, wincing at the muscles that protested the sudden and unwelcome movement they were forced to perform in their delicate state. "They wanted Geeta's blood and that's why they attacked the city. And I went out to see if my blood would appease the last Bruxa--"

"Which you should NOT have done because I had things well in hand." he interrupted.

"I wanted to help if I could. But then, after my offer…and her charge at me…I can only recall snippets. It's hazy and very disjointed. And…Did you just sling me over Roach's neck like a sack of meal?" she asked, most annoyed.

"I…at first. But just to get you mounted. You try getting a lifeless body onto a horse with no one but a tiny child around. Geeta was no help at all." they giggled.

"So how did I survive a Bruxa bite, Geralt? What happened after I blacked out?"

"You killed the last Bruxa…sort of. You see this medallion of mine you kindly donned before the battle? I left it for you for a reason. You understand that it's more than just jewelry, but even more than you already know, there's a little piece of me in it and any potion I take affects the wearer of that medallion without harming them, as it would if they just took one on their own. It filters the bad effects, but it also decreases the effectiveness a bit. So, Meena, the last Bruxa, wasn't immediately killed by biting you, only incapacitated, so I explained her error, and relieved her of her head." Geralt smirked at Ana, proud of his kill, even if he hadn't taken a trophy.

"Why didn't you tell me what the medallion would do to me if I wore it?" Ana was a bit frustrated now.

"I couldn't risk you not wearing it out of some silly pride or other noble notion you may have conjured. I did it for your own good, and for the safety of us all, Anathema." Geralt growled.

"No, I understand, the greater good, the lack of trust, perhaps? It's unfortunately a familiar tale with a familiar set of characters, Geralt." she hinted at his past deceptions as they'd spoken of before the Bruxae fight. They hadn't really finished that conversation, according to her, it seemed.

"Don't." he halted her.

"Is it not? Don't you see the similarities? I don't want us to tread that same path, Geralt. I'm not saying this is worth giving up what you and I have over. But it isn't so small that I think we should brush it under the rug, either."

"What is it you think we have, mage?" his anger at the comparison was clouding his judgement. Making him irrational.

"Don't you do that to me. Not after what we've been through over the last two nights." she grasped the medallion as if to hold him herself and the images of his dream came rushing back into his head. The beauty of nature and of her swirling all around him in the refreshing pool. The perfection of that moment. He knew he couldn't lie to her, but he didn't know how to tell her the truth, either.

"Geralt, you asked me before the battle what happy place I would go to in defense of the Bruxae song. I didn't tell you. I didn't want to make things too serious before the danger had passed. That was a mistake. I should have told you. If you had died without knowing that my happiest memories were made with you last night when we made love, I would have regretted it the rest of my days. You, Geralt. You were, and are my happy place, even now when you're being a deceptive, withholding, insolent bastard." she laughed. "It's sub-optimal, I know, our situation, but it is OUR situation, and we are…in it. And honestly, I'm very thankful that you're the one in it with me."

Geralt hadn't cried…really cried…since he was very young. But this woman, Anathema of Velena, made him well up as he couldn't remember ever doing. His traitorous manhood, having slackened during their argument was now waking again as his affection grew with the forgiveness that washed over him after the mention of the Yen situation.

He laid down, aligning his body next to hers so that he could look into the jade pools of her eyes.

"I'm…I'm sorry, Ana. It was wrong of me to handle that as I did. I see the similarities and I will endeavor to do better in the future." she smiled at his apology and promise. He continued with a confession to match hers. "Now speaking of happy places, I don't have a lot. Those that I used to cherish seem to be tainted now, some for reasons we've discussed, and some for reasons I don't want to get into yet because it's still too painful for me. But Ana, you gave me one of the most beautiful and perfect nights of my long life, and yes, that was my happy place, as well."

She nestled herself against his firm body, her head resting on his arm, and her arm wrapped around his waist.

"I had a feeling." she said, a smug giggle escaping her throat as her eyes fluttered shut to return to sleep, now that she knew her people were safe and they were out of danger.

He smiled back and thought to himself, I have a feeling too, little mage.

Part Three-Coming Soon!

#netflix the witcher #the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x ofc #geralt fanfic #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic

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coloursflyaway · 5 years ago

Text

Different Names For The Same Thing

Pairing: Pete Dunne/Matt Riddle

Rating: T

Words: 3.180

@mersers-moonypadfoot-prongs asked for a tag if I ever satisfied by Broserweights related thirst, so there you go, love, I prefer suffering in company anyway!

If reading on Tumblr is not your cup of tea, you can also head over to AO3.

He finds Pete in the locker room, hair frizzy and his skin still pink from exertion, from the shower he must have just taken. It’s difficult to think of him as looking soft and yet this might be the closest he has ever gotten to it, dressed in a thin button down and with his blue eyes half-lidded, lacking their usual fire. Even with the post-match exhaustion weighing him down, it’s enough to make Matt smile. “Hey, you wanna go for a drink?”, he asks, cutting right to the chase, and knows that the smile is colouring his words, stretching the vowels longer, filing off edges that they wouldn’t have had in the first place. “Celebrate that the right guys won the Dusty Cup for once and all that.”

Pete cocks his head slightly, a gesture that Matt has never seen mean so much on other people, and even if his eyes don’t burn through Matt this time, he can still feel their gaze on him as Pete considers the offer. Just for a moment, though, and maybe Matt should be flattered by it, then he drawls, “Yeah. Sounds good. I’ll meet you outside.” There is something in his voice that Matt cannot place, or maybe it’s in his eyes, the almost curve of his lips, but it doesn’t matter, or at least that is what Matt decides. “Great, bro”, he answers instead of dwelling on it any longer, sends Pete another grin, more lopsided than the one before. “Can’t wait.”

When Matt steps outside of the building, breathing in the fresh air, Pete is already waiting. His hair is tied to a neat bun, the feral wildness he brings to the ring scrubbed off his skin to leave him clean and put-together. It’s still there, though, that promise of brutality just, hidden behind the thin veneer of well-cut clothes and civility. Matt wouldn’t have it any other way.

Pete is busy texting, doesn’t notice him right away, so Matt takes the change to study his tag partner for another fleeting moment. They have never quite been friends, hardly more than co-workers, and yet Matt has always liked the other’s company, Pete’s quiet intensity, his skill, even his cockiness. It’s one of the things they have in common, Matt supposes, and wonders how it has taken them so long to figure out there might be more.

“’sup?”, he finally greets, stepping next to Pete and just so managing to stop himself from clapping a hand onto his partner’s shoulder; Pete doesn’t like to be touched, no matter if Matt has always been a tactile person. “Ready to show everyone that you really are the life of the party?” He’s teasing, obviously so, and for a moment Matt isn’t certain if he’s picked the right moment, the right tone, because Pete looks up at him from the screen, his eyes still unreadable. But then his lips quirk up into the tiniest smile, his eyes crinkling with what Matt thinks must be amusement. “Sure. Bro.”

He says the word like it feels foreign on his tongue, but that’s okay. Matt can teach him.

They end up in a small pub Matt has been at a few times, and a second or two after walking through the door he’s not sure anymore if it was the right choice. It’s slightly run down, dimly lit, the walls plastered with so many posters that the motives seem to blur together; this Pete, with his tailored jacket and his trimmed beard, suddenly doesn’t seem to fit somewhere like this. But it’s just for the moment it takes Pete to look around, shoulders squared before he visibly relaxes, tension leaving his body as he turns around to look at Matt, quirking an eyebrow as he wait for him to keep up.

Although it’s crowded, it’s almost as if this was Pete’s second home, the way he weaves through the people swarming the bar effortless, most of them stepping aside easily, as if they could sense he belongs there. And maybe it shouldn’t surprise Matt as much as it does, because there has always been an aura surrounding Pete, a magnetic kind of haughtiness that makes you believe he owns whatever room he is in, that makes it difficult to look away.

As if he knows the layout of this pub, or maybe every single one there is, Pete takes them to a little cot. It’s a little too far away from the bar for Matt’s liking but makes up for it by being secluded enough that they might just be able to talk without having to yell into each other’s ear. And there is beer, so really, Matt cannot complain.

“So, I’d say we rocked it back in there”, he starts once they have gotten their drinks, shooting a grin in Pete’s direction. Pete, who watches him over the rim of his glass the way only Pete can, a whole novel hidden behind eyes that seem almost black in the half-light. “Yeah”, the other finally answers, takes a sip of his bitter. “I reckon we did.” “Man, the Dusty Cup, can you believe it? And a chance to win the tag titles. Doesn’t even feel real.” Matt laughs softly, more to himself than anything else; Pete cocks his head, but doesn’t look away, almost as if he was trying to figure Matt out and failing. The shadows sharpen all his edges, his cheekbones, the line of his jaw, the cupid’s bow of his lips, until they seem able to cut Matt into ribbons when Pete smiles, danger seeping into his gaze.

“Not just a chance”, he tells Matt and there is nothing but certainty in his voice. “We’ll take them from those slimy little cunts. They’ve been hogging them for far too long anyway.” For a split second, Matt doesn’t quite know how to react, but then he chuckles, both incredulous and charmed by the other’s faith in their skill. He raises his glass, clinks it against Pete’s. “Hell, I’ll definitely drink to that.”

It’s easier than it should be to talk to Pete, even if it’s still Matt who carries most of the conversation, his tag partner occasionally adding something, answering a question, offering the rare half-smile. Pete almost looks relaxed, downs his bitter like it’s water and Matt knows he shouldn’t be impressed, but he cannot help himself. Just like he cannot help from noticing how Pete’s beard shines like copper in the dim light while the rest of him seems to be made from amber, how his monotone drawl possesses its own kind of music, if one takes the time to listen. They order another round, but then, with the crowd around them slowly disappearing, the bar tenders starting to shoot them barely-veiled glares, Pete finally asks what Matt hasn’t been able to bring himself to say. “Want to get out of here?”

There is no reason to say no, so Matt doesn’t, nods and knocks back the last sip of his beer, trying his best to ignore the feeling that is starting to well up in his chest. It’s too soft for regret, too sweet for sadness, not overwhelming and yet hard to forget; maybe Pete can see some of it on his face, because he lingers for just another moment before getting up, his blue eyes dark and still unreadable.

They pay for their drinks, or rather, Pete does – he doesn’t say a thing, just pushes away Matt’s hand when he reaches for his wallet, and although they have touched a thousand times before, it seems to Matt like he can feel the residual warmth of the other’s touch just a few moments after Pete has pulled away. This time they step outside together; it’s colder than before, but the fresh air feels good against Matt’s skin. He’s not drunk, just tipsy enough that his eyes stay on Pete a little too long before he can tear his gaze away.

A few strands of hair have escaped Pete’s bun, curling around sharp-cut features, his hands are stuffed into the pockets of his jacket and Matt cannot help but smile, just because surely neither of them would have pictured that this could happen just a few weeks ago. The two of them a team, winning the Dusty Cup, having a chance to challenge for the tag team titles; it’s a dream, and even if he never would have expected it, he’s glad to share it with Pete of all people.

“So, you’re gonna head home?”, he asks when his tag partner doesn’t move, just waits for him to do something. Maybe it’s the golden glow coming from the streetlights, but Pete looks softer, almost contemplative. He doesn’t reply straight away either, cocks his head and watches Matt for a moment, then another. “Nah”, he finally answers, looks away from Matt, who misses the weight of his gaze almost immediately. “It’s still too early for that, innit?”

It’s not, and they both know it, but the relief Matt feels wash over him because this insane, chaotic, wonderful night doesn’t have to end just yet is profound enough to keep him from commenting on it. Instead he shrugs, grins at the other and wonders how much of his feelings Pete can see on his face. “Sure thing, bro.”

Matt isn’t sure how they get to the small park, but they do; he doesn’t know the area well and he doubts Pete does either, but it doesn’t seem to matter. He’s perched on a picknick table, Pete on the bench below him, but the sun has not yet risen, the streetlights have not yet gone out and even if Matt knows he’ll be exhausted the next morning, it seems like a small price to pay.

“You know, I never would have expected that beer was your poison”, Pete says into the silence, looking up at Matt, and the teasing isn’t audible in his voice, but Matt can see it in his eyes, the slight upturn of his lips. He can’t help but chuckle; it takes a few moments of rummaging through his pockets, then he produces a joint, holding it out for Pete to take. “I never thought you knew me this well”, he teases right back, and it seems to work; Pete’s eyes crinkle like he is enjoying himself, and he plucks the joint right out of Matt’s fingers, skin touching skin for just a moment. “For what kind of a partner do you take me for?”, he asks before putting the joint between full, pink lips. He leans forward, looking up through his lashes as he waits for Matt to light it. Doing so shouldn’t be half as hard as it turns out to be.

As soon as the thin paper has caught on fire, Pete takes a deep drag, turning the sudden flame into embers, eyes fluttering shut momentarily. He’s not beautiful, but for a second Matt has to remind himself of that.

While still leaning forward, fingers clutching the lighter, he is too close, and yet, Matt cannot bring himself to pull away. Not when Pete exhales smoke as he plucks the joint from his lips to offer it up for Matt to take, not when there’s mischief hidden in his blue eyes once Pete opens them again. So, he doesn’t, just takes what is offered, inhaling deeply and letting the smoke burn down his throat, fill his lungs until he forgets about any other feeling that could cause his chest to constrict.

A familiar lightness floods through him, heating up the blood in his veins, time slowing down around them and every washed out colour seeming brighter, suddenly worth looking at. His mouth goes dry, his muscles relaxing; it’s only when he opens his eyes to find Pete turned away from him that Matt realises he had closed them. The other has leaned back against the table, shoulders slouched in a way that Matt doesn’t think he has ever seen before, as if tension he has been building up for years has left him all at once. Matt takes another drag of the joint before he hands it back to Pete. Again, their fingertips brush, but this time Matt doesn’t think about it for more than a split-second.

Silence stretches between them as they pass the joint back and forth, but it’s companionable, almost mellow in a way only a high can leave you. Matt would be happy to stay like this, maybe for this night or maybe forever, but then Pete shifts as he stubs out the joint, sighs so softly that Matt almost misses it. “I haven’t had this with anyone in forever, you know?”, he mutters. “This sort of chemistry in the ring. Like we just… fit together, somehow. Hell, maybe I haven’t ever had it. Not like this, at least.” Pete has tipped his head back so he can look at Matt, and there is something in his voice, something that Matt just cannot put his finger on, so instead he puts it on the other. Pushes his fingertip against that spot just next to Pete’s eyebrow, where the skin crinkles when he scowls; Pete doesn’t recoil like he usually would, but Matt is too occupied to give it a second thought.

Because Pete might be right. He’s worked well with others before, Keith, for example, teaming with Keith had always been magic, but it’s different with Pete somehow and it had been right from the start. Fluid, familiar, like they had been doing this for years and years, not just a few weeks. And he has heard about this feeling before and yet never believed it, can hear Kevin in his mind talking about how his life had changed the second he had stepped in the ring with Sami for the first time. That push and pull that felt so right and would do so forever, through ups and downs and everything in between. It’s not that, but maybe it’s close enough.

“Yeah”, he replies, realises belatedly that he is still touching Pete, tracing his fingertip along the other’s eyebrow. Realises even later that Pete still hasn’t pushed him away. Instead, Pete is watching him, eyes glazed and yet alert, lips parting slightly as he allows Matt to smooth his furrowed forehead with careful touches. “I’m kinda glad I asked you to do this with me”, Matt mutters, not sure why his voice refuses to go to its normal volume but unwilling to do anything against it. “Feels right to win it together. Will feel even better when we have those belts.”

Pete’s skin is soft under his finger and Matt allows it to trail down across the bridge of Pete’s nose, just waiting for the other to snap, pull away or push Matt off, but nothing happens. He just watches, brows furrowing once more, almost the second Matt’s finger isn’t there to smooth them, a pink tongue darting out to wet equally pink lips. Matt feels his mouth go dry for the second time this night.

“I might not be a good choice to have your back”, Pete says, and it sounds like an answer to a question Matt cannot remember asking. His voice is quiet, rough around the edges, but the melody clinging to it seems more pronounced like this. For a second, Matt considers it, strokes his finger up to Pete’s forehead once more, because letting it linger would force him to think about just what he is doing. He doesn’t know much about Pete’s past, hell, he doesn’t even know much about his present, but with Pete looking up at him with bright blue eyes, allowing Matt to learn the contours of his face, it’s impossible to bring himself to care. “You’ll have mine”, he tells Pete, as certain as the other was when speaking about winning the titles, lets his finger drift down the bridge of Pete’s nose again, this time not stopping but letting it drop to his mouth. He waits for a moment, then another, just to give the other a chance to move, before he gives in to temptation.

Pete’s lips are warm and chapped under his when Matt leans down to kiss him, part easily at the first flick of his tongue. It’s an awkward angle, Pete tastes like smoke and ale and it’s not like fighting at all, but they move together as easily as they do in the ring. Matt slides a hand into Pete’s hair, tilting his head further; it drags a soft sigh from Pete that Matt swallows easily, kisses right back into the other’s mouth. Fingers brush against Matt’s jaw, down his throat, and there is nothing he can do but deepen the kiss, find out what other sounds he can draw from Pete’s pretty lips.

Time seems to stop entirely, lost in the scratch of Pete’s beard and the slide of his lips, the lazy swipes of his tongue against Matt’s and he could lose himself in the sensations, almost does. But then Pete makes a noise unlike any other, breathless and needy, and Matt has to look at him more than he has to kiss him, at least for a moment. His lips are swollen and glisten in the dim glow of the streetlights, his hair is mussed beyond saving, and he’s still not beautiful, but this time, Matt doesn’t manage to remind himself of the fact. They’re both out of breath, Pete almost spread out across the table, and Matt cannot look away, cannot untangle his fingers from Pete’s hair, cannot help but lean into the touch of Pete’s fingers as they trail across his chest.

There is something he should say, Matt knows it, but his brain won’t supply the words, so he just looks at Pete, commits all the sharp, all the soft lines of his body, his face to memory, the curve of his mouth and the colour of his eyes, the strangely open look in them. He doesn’t look vulnerable, Matt doesn’t think he would know how to, but he looks like someone Matt could dare to kiss, so he does. Just for a moment, though, enough to taste the smoke on Pete’s skin, because suddenly the words are right there.

“So, you’re gonna head home?”, he asks, their lips still brushing with every word, before he pulls back, looks down at Pete, watches as realisation slowly blooms on his face, brightening his eyes, relaxing muscles that had been ready to tense again. “Nah”, he drawls, and this time, Matt can hear that he’s teasing, can feel it in the fingers that curl around his jaw, flit across his pulse point. “It’s still too early for that, innit?”

And maybe he even looks like someone Matt could dare to wake up next to.

#pete dunne #matt riddle #broserweights #wwe fanfiction #there is literally 0 chance i am not going to hell for this

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lilacmoon83 · 4 years ago

Text

Clarity

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 4: Helpless

Mary Margaret trekked down into the ravine below the Toll bridge and spotted his roaring fire in the near distance.

"Hey...it's freezing out here. What are you doing?" he asked, as he rushed to her. Neither of them were aware of the eyes on them.

"That's why I'm here...you can't stay out here. Not tonight. It's already in the single digits," she replied. He smiled at her concern.

"I'll be fine," he promised.

"No David...I'm tired of this! I want you home with me," she cried.

"And I want that too, my darling...but Emma would never be comfortable with it and I don't want anything straining your relationship with her," he said. Tears filled her eyes.

"I went to Gold…" she confessed.

"Why?" he asked in a measured tone.

"I asked him if you could use his cabin for shelter," she replied.

"No," he refused.

"No deals or anything. He said you could use it free and clear," she said. He scoffed.

"Yeah right, the imp always wants something," he refuted.

"Well, I really don't care, because I'm not having you sleeping out in the cold anymore," she argued. But he shook his head.

"Not if it means coming between you and our...your best friend," he said, catching himself.

"But…I need you…" she said, as she broke down crying again. His heart broke too at that and he swept her into his arms.

"I know...I know...I need you too," he whispered, as he kissed her forehead.

"I need you so badly that it's killing me. Every moment without you is a slow, agonizing death," he told her.

"But it will get better...you know that," he promised.

"It's not supposed to be like this," she sobbed.

'I know," he agreed.

"We're supposed to be a family. We're supposed to be together, because we're in love...we're soulmates," she cried, as she sobbed against his chest. He felt helpless. Even awake and fully aware of everything, he still felt helpless. He had to give it to Regina. The curse was doing its job perfectly.

"I'm sorry...I'm so sorry…" he said, as he held her in his arms.

"Then you'll sleep in the cabin?" she asked, as she gave him her best sad puppy look and bit her bottom lip for ultimate effect. He sighed and shook his head.

"Will you sleep a wink if I don't?" he asked.

"Doubtful…" she replied. He sighed again.

"Okay...I'll do this for you. But if Gold comes back at you with some favor you owe him, then I'm gonna punch him in the face," he said. She grinned and threw her arms around him.

"You know...I could come back to the cabin with you," she tempted.

"You know I'd love nothing more, but I don't need more reasons for Emma to hate me," he replied, as she pouted. He smiled and kissed her lips passionately.

"We'll be together soon...I promise," he assured.

"It's getting dark...you should get home," he prodded sadly.

"That's hard to do when you're my home," she countered. She knew she was making this more difficult, but she couldn't help it. She just wanted to be with him so badly. He smiled and kissed her again.

"I love you…" he said.

"I love you too," she replied, as they shared another kiss and she reluctantly left him to go home to the loft.

~*~

Emma watched him for a few more minutes with scrutiny, observing his campsite. Had he really been living in the woods? She moved slightly and a twig snapped, catching his attention.

"Who's there?" he called defensively and she slowly moved out from behind the brush. He sighed and relaxed.

"Emma…" he said.

"Have you really been living out here?" she asked skeptically. He shrugged and went back to dousing the fire.

"It's not the first time I've been homeless," he replied, which surprised her.

"That's not in your file," she mentioned. He scoffed.

"There's a lot of things that aren't in that file," he retorted, as she approached him.

"How long have you been there?" he asked.

"Long enough to watch my best friend cry over you," she replied.

"Emma…I love her, more than my own life. I'd do anything for her," he said.

"And you," he said silently to himself.

"Then why won't you go home with her. That's what she wants," she replied.

"Because I won't do that if it means she loses her best friend over it," he said sternly. Emma was silent for the moment.

"You gonna go stay in the cabin for the night?" she asked.

"I promised Mary Margaret that I would and I will never do anything to hurt her ever again," he replied. She nodded.

"I have something for you...that's why I'm here," Emma said, as she handed him the envelope and he looked inside.

"Thanks," he said.

"Yeah...guess you're a free man now," she mentioned. He nodded and packed up the rest of his stuff.

"Thanks again," David said, as she watched him walk up the ridge and toward the cabin, before she turned and went home.

~*~

When she arrived home though, she sighed, as she observed her best friend curled up in a ball by the window with a pillow to her chest. And not her pillow. Definitely the other pillow on her bed, the one David had probably slept on.

"Oh Emma...I didn't hear you come in," Mary Margaret said, as she quickly wiped her tears away and got up.

"Okay...this is stupid. You're miserable," Emma complained.

"I'm fine," Mary Margaret sniffed, as she went to the kitchen.

"No...you're not. If you want David here...then he should be here. This is your house," Emma said.

"It's yours too," she insisted.

"Why does it matter so much to you that I approve of the guy you're sleeping with?" Emma questioned.

"Because you're my best friend! You matter to me more than you know!" Mary Margaret answered.

"Why?!" Emma snapped.

"Because I love you too, even if you refuse to believe it!" Mary Margaret snapped back. Tears filled Emma's eyes and they shared a fierce hug.

"Why are you and David so willing to be apart all of the sudden for me?" she questioned.

"I know it seems strange...but I promise you'll understand someday," Mary Margaret whispered, only confusing her more.

"That makes no sense, but I'm done with you two being all miserable and noble at the same time. Go get him," she insisted.

"Really?" Mary Margaret asked. The blonde nodded.

"Yes...you're just lucky I have noise cancelling headphones," Emma joked.

"You mean...if David was living here, you wouldn't leave?" Mary Margaret asked.

"I'm not leaving...go. I know you want to," Emma insisted. Mary Margaret smiled and got her coat.

"Just be careful," Emma pleaded.

"I'll be fine. Thanks Emma," Mary Margaret said, as she left the apartment and started toward her car.

~*~

An Hour Later

Emma laughed, as she watched a sitcom on TV, while enjoying a pint of Rocky Road when there was a knock on the door. She checked her watch and thought it was strange that Mary Margaret wasn't back yet, but it was possible she was still helping David pack up his stuff. She put the ice cream down on the coffee table and answered the door. She was stunned to find David there. Without Mary Margaret.

"Hey…" she said.

"Is Mary Margaret here?" he asked. Dread knotted in her stomach.

"No...she's supposed to be with you," Emma replied.

"She texted me that she was coming to tell me something, but she never showed up. I thought maybe she changed her mind, but she's not returning my texts," he said, clearly worried. Emma grabbed her coat.

"Stay here...I'm going to look for her," Emma said.

"No way...if she's in trouble, then I have to find her!" David exclaimed. Emma sighed.

"Fine...hope you can keep up then," Emma said.

"I think you'll be surprised at how well I can keep up," David retorted.

~*~

1 Hour Earlier

Snow was almost giddy, as she drove toward the Toll Bridge. However, she wasn't far from her apartment when she heard a clunk and the car died, as she pulled off to the side. She tried to start it, but it was dead and she got out. She knew next to nothing about cars, but opened the hood anyway, until she heard a twig snap. She looked up and all around her in the darkness.

"Hello?" she called, as she suddenly felt a prick on the back of her neck.

"Ouch…" she said, as she reached back there and was stunned to find a small dart.

"No…" she uttered, as she lost consciousness and fell to the cold ground. A figure approached and picked her up, throwing her petite form over his shoulder, before carrying her off.

When she awoke with a pounding headache, she opened her bleary eyes and found her hands were tied behind her back. Fear rippled through her, as she realized there was also a gag in her mouth. Her eyes widened, as Regina stood there with a man she did not recognize.

"Awake at last...though there was a time that I hoped you'd sleep forever," the Evil Queen commented, as she pulled the gag down.

"Let me go…" Snow hissed, with a glare at her step-mother.

"Not going to happen. You know, I didn't know if you were awake or not for sure until just now. Clearly, you've forgotten to put up your meek Mary Margaret act that you've been maintaining in public," Regina said.

"What are you going to do to me?" Snow demanded to know.

"First...you're going to drink this water," Regina said, as she held up a bottle.

"What's in it? Poison? Another curse?" Snow asked.

"No...that would be too quick and easy. No, it's a potion to make sure that you keep your real memories when Jefferson here takes you across the town line. I want you to remember how you're never going to see your husband...or your daughter again," Regina replied. Snow swallowed thickly and tried to keep herself from panicking.

"David will find me," she insisted. Regina smirked.

"I'd like to see him try in a city with more than eight million people," she hissed.

"Why? Why would you do this? You've already destroyed my daughter's life! Why would you destroy your son's too? He knows the truth!" Snow cried.

"He is my son...and he'll forget all about you soon enough," Regina growled, as Jefferson pulled her head back and Regina forced some of the water down her throat. Snow choked and screamed, before the gag was replaced between her teeth.

"Leave town as we planned...immediately," Regina ordered.

"And what exactly am I supposed to do with her?" Jefferson questioned.

"I told you...hold her at the apartment I got for you and then there will be someone coming for her," Regina replied.

"Who?" Jefferson asked.

"In my time in this land, I've discovered that there are people out there that know about us and they seemed very interested in having a live subject to study from our land. They'll pick her up and then I could care less what they do with her. In fact, I hope there's nothing but horror in your future," she hissed at her step-daughter.

"And then my daughter?" Jefferson asked impatiently.

"Yes, when you get back, you'll have your daughter as promised. With her memories returned," Regina promised, as the man hauled Snow to her feet and dragged her out to his car. Tears slipped down her cheeks uncontrollably, as they soon passed over the town line and she seriously wondered if she would ever see her husband or her daughter ever again…

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Emma Swan #Henry Mills #Regina Mills #Mr. Gold #AU #romance #adventure #angst #drama #family #Clarity #A 7:15 AM AU

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darkhymns-fic · 5 years ago

Text

Memories of Coffee

Not every memory would be pleasant, but they come to him, unannounced. The cup of coffee, however, stayed warm in his hands.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Kratos Aurion/Anna Irving, Lloyd Irving Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: Written for @krannaweek Day 1: Hot and Cold. This came out longer than I meant it to so I hope it reads ok! (The kranna starts not long after the beginning, promise).

—

Kratos had long tried to forget about Anna, even after he had discovered her grave at Lloyd’s home. But memories had a way of sneaking up on him at the most inopportune moments.

As the campfire crackled in the quiet night, he heard soft muttering from a few feet away. He noted that Lloyd had been a restless sleeper ever since he forcibly joined their group, the Chosen never protesting it. Kratos waited, already predicting when the boy (his son) would wake up, his uneasiness of the journey settling in on his consciousness, even when he was unaware.

Such instincts could have been learned, could have been inherited. It wasn’t Kratos’ place to say.

Keeping his eyes on a sleepy Noishe, who softly wagged his tail as he laid on the ground near Kratos, the footsteps he expected soon came, followed by a tired voice. Of course, the boy must have noted the empty space near him, prompting him to ask the one who called himself a mercenary

“Hey… Where’s Colette?”

He only briefly turned to find Lloyd standing before him, rubbing at his eyes. The firelight caught the shade of familiar burnished brown hair, and Kratos had to turn away, facing the west. “You should be sleeping.”

Even after taking up on his training lessons, Lloyd would still get highly annoyed with him, as he did now. “Ugh, well I can’t. Shouldn’t Colette be sleeping then?”

“The Chosen is over on the hillside,” he said, along with a brief nod towards the direction.

A small pause, one of incredulity, or so Kratos assumed. “And you just let her go off by herself?” Lloyd said accusingly. “Some guard you are! I thought things were dangerous!”

“The Chosen requested it,” he simply stated, and was soon answered by an irritated scoff. He turned back to find the exasperated boy, still very tired, but now already heading towards the west, the fire still highlighting his hair.

“Well, I’m gonna make sure she’s okay if you’re not doing anything.” Again, that irritation, and it was something in that which finally made Kratos stand, reaching out his hand to grip Lloyd’s shoulder.

“H-Hey! What are you-?”

“Over here first,” he stated, turning back to the campfire – as well as the pot of coffee he was brewing. He knelt to retrieve the kettle, along with cups he had gathered previously for the occasion.

Lloyd was too confused, as well as too fatigued, to ask him. And that was fine, for as he examined the coffee, one of those old memories came back, like the soft rumblings of a storm, where all one could do was wait out until it was over.

---

Anna had said virtually nothing to him the entire night, even as her footsteps lagged behind his, even as she nearly tumbled headfirst onto the ground because of exhaustion and refused his help. Kratos felt the same, his Exsphere pushed to the limit to keep his own body going. Although it had been days since breaking out of the ranch, it felt as if they were always being chased.

“Here we can rest,” he said finally, to break the silence between them. The grove he picked was far out of the way of most villages in Sylvarant, hopefully not well-drawn on most Desian maps either. He already set about to make a campfire, careful to not use any of his magic, careful to not reveal too much to the woman who had once been in shackles.

But Anna would still say nothing, instead simply seating herself on the ground, hands over her knees, pointedly looking away from him. The simple clothes they had given her at the ranch was frayed, nearly ripped apart on one side. They only had time to pass through one town, Kratos quickly shopping for a few essentials, such as food, gels, and a traveling cloak for Anna. He blamed himself for not getting her new clothes, but she had barely accepted the cloak as it were, only doing so when the night had grown too cold.

So many questions to ask, but she wouldn’t talk. He didn’t know how to help her talk, to at least assure her that danger was gone this very night. He didn’t know how to explain on just why he had done all this for her in the first place.

Maybe a warm drink would smooth away tension, he had thought dimly.

On his quick shopping trip, Kratos had acquired some coffee, as well as a kettle to help brew the liquid in. He made their campfire, all while Anna stayed seated on the ground. He felt her eyes on him then, turning back briefly to find the firelight bounce against burnished brown hair. But still she said nothing. What other words could be said? Their entire time together had been awkward, mainly filled with the dread of being found by Cruxis. It was not his place to make her trust him, when he had just broken her out of the ranch with barely an explanation.

So he put his efforts into making something, pouring the liquid in a tin cup before handing it to Anna. Her face had been hidden in shadows, only slightly revealed as she raised her head, the firelight shining off her features.

“This is hot coffee,” he told her. “Please drink if you wish.”

It was then she finally spoke her first words in hours. “Coffee? This late at night?”

Frankly, it was the reaction he hadn’t anticipated. Kratos cleared his throat, feeling as if he had just been scolded. “It would be prudent to stay aware of our surroundings,” he offered as explanation.

At that, Anna looked back to the cup he held out to her, before gently taking it from him, carefully avoiding his touch. She didn’t offer her thanks. He didn’t expect it. He politely turned away so that she could drink it in peace. Maybe he could arrange for better shelter for them with the trees overhead-

That was when he heard a sharp choke, followed by coughing. Hand instinctively going to his sword’s hilt, he turned back towards Anna. Had an enemy snuck through?

Instead, Anna was spitting out the coffee, some of it hitting the campfire, making it hiss. “Ugh! What is in this?!” she yelled.

Kratos was stunned. “What’s wrong? Are you allergic to coffee? I didn’t-”

“N-No! I’m…” Another cough, Anna wiping away at her mouth with the hem of her cloak. “Just… this tastes completely awful!”

He blinked in response, but said nothing in his defense.

“And… this isn’t even hot? It’s ice cold! How did you manage that?”

An embarrassed flush coated his cheeks. Ah. His Exsphere. He had adjusted it so that he would not need to sleep, to eat or drink, or to even feel. Of course, that included temperatures…

Finally, Anna had stopped hacking her lungs out, still clutching the tin cup, though now holding it out in front of her a few feet as if it were a cursed artifact. “It tastes like… complete and utter despair,” she said with a grimace. “Have you never made a pot of coffee in your life?”

Well, the last had been quite some time ago…

Instead, all he did was look down at the ground, finally releasing his grip on his sword. “Forgive me. I suppose my skills have been lacking in that area.”

Another silence between them, except from the crackling of a newborn campfire. Then, Anna laughed. Softly, lightly. She stunned him again, but for now vastly different reasons.

“You act as if you had just poisoned me,” she joked, shoulders shaking in mirth. Until she stopped, eyeing him under her eyelashes. “That’s not true, is it? Was this your attempt at finishing me off?”

Kratos stuttered, at a complete loss on what to say. “I-I would… would not do something so underhanded-”

She waved him off, still sporting a grin. “Okay, okay, you’re forgiven either way.” She took a deep breath, bringing in the tin cup close to her chin. “But, this is amazing in it’s own way. I had no idea coffee could taste so much like mud, right down to the texture.” She laughed again, looking up to him.

Kratos knew by now that he was completely red in the face. “I suppose it is acceptable to laugh at my shortcomings.”

At that, she tilted her head at him. Again, the firelight caught her hair. Again, Kratos was at a loss on what to say next.

“You are…the most serious, and the most dour person I have ever met.” She said this thoughtfully, eyes flicking back to the cup cradled in both hands before lifting it to take another sip.

Widened eyes and a short step forward. Yet Kratos hung back helplessly as Anna sipped down the rest of the coffee with obvious distaste in her expression. “Anna-” he started, a bit aghast that just now, after their escape, he had finally used her name.

She had caught onto that as well, her eyes sharp as she lowered the cup from her lips. A shudder went through her, but she smiled. “Still tastes horrible, and it’s making me colder… but it will keep me up for sure.”

Again, he couldn’t resist one final apology. “I am sorry. It was thoughtless of me to not think that you would want to sleep.”

She shook her head, then reached for the same kettle that Kratos had used, pouring more of the terrible coffee into her cup. Once done, she then handed the cup to him.

Anna continually stunned him, and in his surprise, he automatically reached for the proffered coffee, remembering to adjust his Exsphere’s capabilities. Ah. Even without the absence of touch, he should have noted the lack of steam from the coffee…

“Drink it.”

Kratos raised his head at her. But her smile showed it wasn’t really a punishment.

“Stay up as well and talk with me tonight,” she said. “I’ve had a hard time sleeping anyway. Another voice would be good.” But something flickered in her expression then, something that pierced through him, but softly. “Unless you don’t need this coffee to stay awake.”

She knew more than she let on. It was those same searching eyes that drew him to her in the first place.

Kratos swallowed the coffee in one sip, his taste buds back in full degree. At least Anna had been happy.

---

Lloyd’s impatience was palpable, brimming in the air like the summer heat. But Kratos kept his motions in careful control, this time examining the pot, adjusting the flames of the campfire, stray embers buffeted by a brief wind. He had practiced ever since that night.

There were several mugs at the foot of the fire, much of them plain and bought quickly for travel. But Kratos noted two kinds; one made of wood that looked weathered, unpolished, but sturdy. It had been crafted well and would last for several more years to come. The other was of expensive porcelain but nicked on one side, patterns of swirling blue near its rim. Kratos handled this one carefully, for it would only be more damaged if it was dropped, if it would even survive the fall.

By the time he had finished pouring the coffee into both, he stood up to face Lloyd, who still looked impatient and a little peeved, but blinked at the proffered mugs.

“Take these for yourself and the Chosen,” he said. The steam rose from the mugs, only to quickly dissipate with the wind.

Lloyd looked at them, then back to Kratos, confused. “Coffee? This late? Why?”

Memories come up when you least expect them to. But he was careful not to let anything show. It was not a burden that Lloyd needed at this time. He would have plenty more to come.

“To stay aware of our surroundings,” he had said, looking back out into the distance, for he was on watch, after all. “Assassins chase after the Chosen. Keep an eye on her.”

For Lloyd’s eyes, like his mother’s, were sharp. Not everything would be hidden from him for very long.

“…Okay,” Lloyd finally said, taking the mugs. “And… thanks.”

The boy (their son) finally left, heading towards the west, towards the small hill where the Chosen stood. He spared a quick glance to see her turn at the sound of Lloyd’s footsteps. The smile she gave was familiar, he felt, and only given the moment her eyes settled on Lloyd coming close.

Kratos thought at first about listening in, to understand the moment of Lloyd’s discovery. But instead, he minimized his hearing, so that all he could hear was the gentle crackling of the fire before him.

“This night is colder than I thought… I think your coffee has frozen my insides.”

“Well, I have also now suffered the same fate. But as long as we stay near the fire, we should warm up.”

A brief shift, her traveling cloak brushing against his side. “This cloak is warm however. I don’t mind sharing this if you needed it.”

Kratos closed his eyes. He still remembered the taste of the coffee.

#krannaweek19 #krannaweek2019 #tales of symphonia #kratos aurion #anna irving #kranna #lloyd irving #fanfiction #one shot #I might only have enough energy for one more fic if I can

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