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vs-redemption · 4 years ago

Note

Aaa im so sorry for bothering you! Can uou do my request from before (homeless kid) but now with hawks, shigaraki, and fatgum please? Im so sorry if its any trouble but your writing isFANTASTIC!!!!!!!!!

A/N: Phew! Sorry for the wait, but I wanted to make sure I gave you something I was proud of. And don’t worry! You aren’t bothering me. I was actually kind of wishing you’d included Hawks in the first request, and Shigaraki was a fun challenge to write! I really hope these meet your expectations.

A Surprise Meeting (Hawks, Fat Gum, and Shigaraki meet their abused child)

Warning:⚠️Mentions of child abuse and homelessness.⚠️

You can read the same scenario but with Bakugo, Iida, and Aizawa HERE You can read the same scenario but with Todoroki and Dabi HERE

Hawks

Hawks knew his patience would be put to the test whenever the Hero Commission called him in for a face-to-face meeting. He’d opened up his agency as far away from the head office as possible for the sole purpose of avoiding their overbearing attempts to control not only his career, but his personal life as well. He appreciated everything the Commission had done for him to an extent. After all, he never would’ve ended up as such a successful hero if they hadn’t taken him in as a child and given him intensive training to perfect his quirk. There were a lot of things he’d hated about living under the Commission’s thumb though. Because of that, he really hated whenever he had to go back there.

“Thanks for coming today, Hawks.” The president of the organization herself had come to greet him. He gave her a roguish grin despite the fact he wanted to role his eyes. He hated when they thanked him for obeying when it wasn’t like he had a choice anyway. “There’s someone we’d like you to meet.”

Hawks followed the president as she led him deeper into the facility than he’d been in a long time. His wings twitched behind him as unpleasant memories began to surface in his mind. He felt confused and uncomfortable when he was brought into a small observation room that had a view of one of the commission’s training spaces behind a large two way mirror. “Are you going to explain what this is all about?” Hawks jokes to try and ease his own tension, “Or are you keeping me in suspense on purpose?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” The president’s face remains stoic as she turns away and speaks into an intercom. “Bring her in.” Hawks looks into the training room on the other side of the glass and sees a random agent of the commission step through the door with a tiny little girl following closely behind. She looked to be around two years old. Hawks’ jaw drops in disbelief when he sees the two fluffy wings sprouting from the child’s back. He’d seen other people with wing quirks before, but this kid’s resemblance to him was uncanny. Her hair was darker than his, but the black markings around her golden eyes had his mind reeling.

“Of course we did a DNA test,” the president says flatly. “She’s definitely your child.”

Hawks steps away from the glass and runs a hand over his face, letting the information sink in. The commission had so much influence over his personal life that he’d mostly stayed away from any sort of relationship, knowing that there’d be too much drama over maintaining his image and reputation for him to actually enjoy having that kind of connection with someone. Admittedly, he had bent his own rules and caved into pressure once or twice after graduating the commission’s program. He wasn’t proud of it, but he’d mostly done it out of spite for all the years he’d spent being micromanaged.

“A woman dropped her off a few days ago,” the president’s voice turns sharp. “How could you let this happen?” Hawks wasn’t interested in a lecture at the moment, so he ignores the question in favor of moving closer to the glass and looking at his daughter more intently. She was cleaned up and wearing a standard uniform provided by the commission, but Hawks didn’t miss the painful looking scratches on her face or the raggedy, burned up ends of the feathers on her wings.

“What happened to her?” he asks, surprising even himself at the low tone of his voice.

“The mother admitted to doing most of it,” the president rattles off the information in a clinically detached way. “They’d also been living out on the street for a while as well, so who knows what might’ve happened.” The news was heartbreaking for Hawks. He hadn’t lived in ideal circumstances at that age either, and he wouldn’t wish that sort of life on anyone.

“Your wings didn’t start to grow back until you were a bit older, so we’re assuming it’ll be the same for her,” the president seemed oblivious to the emotional state of the hero standing next to her. “We’ve already started her on a special diet though, and she’ll begin her training regimen at the beginning of next week.”

Hawks wasn’t sure if it was some bird trait related to his quirk or just the knowledge that he was the kid’s father, but some sort of instinct kicked in with such intensity that it washed away any feelings of duty or habits of obedience that had been programmed into his brain.

“You’re not keeping her,” he says fiercely. The president just raises her eyebrows at him.

“The mother left her in our custody,” she states. “You should be thankful that we’re willing to overlook your mistake. With any luck, we’ll be able to groom this girl into a hero just as spectacular as you.”

“If you don’t release her to me, it’ll be you that’s made a mistake,” there was a promise of something terrifying in Hawks’ tone that seemed to finally shake the president’s resolve.

“You really think you’ll be able to be a decent parent?” she asks coldly.

“I won’t let her be robbed of a childhood like I was,” Hawks declares firmly. “If she wants to be a hero, she can make that decision when she’s old enough to do so.” Thankfully, the president decided not to argue any more. Hawks turns back to the window and allows himself to relax a bit. Looking over his daughter again, his heart filled with a love so strong it threatened to overwhelm him. He made a vow to love and protect his little girl so that she had the safest and happiest life possible.

Fat Gum

There was nothing quite like the feeling of walking around the lively streets of Osaka at night. People of all walks of life tended to come out around this time, and the delicious smell of cooking food filled the air. Taishiro Toyomitsu, better known as Fat Gum, could think of no better city to do his hero patrols. The crime rate was a little higher than in other places, but it was worth it for him to have easy access to the yakitori, yakisoba, and okonomiyaki stands that kept his quirk plenty fueled up.

Tonight he was in high spirits as he walked down one of the more famous shopping streets, stuffing his face with incredible snacks, and having friendly encounters with both locals and tourists alike. A couple of young musicians were playing on one of the street corners, so he tossed a few coins into their cup. Everything seemed to be fine basically, other than a few people who’d stumbled out of bars and needed help getting to a taxi. It was one of his more tame patrols, but he wasn’t going to complain about that.

He noticed that he was being followed near the end of the night, when most of the shops and restaurants were starting to close up. The busy streets began to empty as people hurried to catch the last few trains, and only when there were just a handful of people left out sweeping the sidewalks did the figure emerge from the shadows. Fat Gum was surprised to find that his pursuer was a young boy around nine years old with strange, aquamarine colored hair.

“Hey there, kiddo!” he kept a huge grin on his face but still kept his guard up just in case. “Can I help you with anything?” The kid looked to be in pretty rough shape as he gazed up at the BMI hero who towered over him. Fat Gum didn’t like the poor condition of the boy’s clothes, or that he appeared extremely dirty. The most concerning thing of all was how emaciated the boy looked. He could practically see the bones in his arms, and his cheeks were sunken with hunger. He wondered when the poor thing had last eaten a proper meal.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” the kid finally speaks up after a moment. Fat Gum finally noticed that the boy had started shaking like a leaf. He wasn’t sure if the boy was just cold, or if he was actually afraid. He watched as the kid reached into his back pocket and pulled out a tattered old photograph. “By any chance, do you know this woman?” The boy flinches away while holding out the paper for Fat Gum to see.

“I’m not gonna hurt ya, buddy!” the large hero says while taking the photo as non-aggressively as possible. “Let’s just take a quick look at this and… oh.” He recognized the woman staring back at him from the picture. He hadn’t seen her in almost a decade. He’d lost contact with her once she’d broken his heart after a short romantic affair. “Uh,” Fat Gum felt a little awkward, “Is this your mom?” The boy nods his head while keeping his eyes closed. “Then,” Fat Gum chuckles nervously, “am I your dad?”

“Yeah,” the boy mumbles before letting a few tears slip out, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” the need to be a hero for this boy was stronger than his discomfort with the situation. “If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. How could I have not known about this until now?”

“Mom wouldn’t let me tell you,” his voice cracks with emotion. “She said you’d be mad.”

“Well, that’s just silly!” Fat Gum shakes his head in disbelief. “Where is your ma’ now?” The boy finally glances up and meets his eyes. They were the same shape and color as his own.

“She got arrested yesterday,” he admits, sounding embarrassed. “Another hero caught her pickpocketing. She sometimes asked me to help her, but I haven’t been feeling well lately. We don’t have a place to stay either, so we had to find a way to get food.”

Fat Gum hated the thought of that woman not only keeping the existence of his son a secret, but also forcing a young boy to break the law. Perhaps that was why the boy looked so scared. He probably thought he was going to get in trouble too. Fat Gum had other ideas though.

“I’m really sorry that happened to your mom,” he says sincerely, “but she will have to pay for the crimes she committed.”

“I know,” the boy looks back down at his feet.

“But there’s no reason you have to follow in her footsteps,” Fat Gum says cheerfully. “I’m more than willing to take you under my wing. That is, if you don’t mind.” The boy finally allows a tentative smile to grow on his face. He clearly liked the idea.

“Well then, first I think we should get you to a doctor,” Fat Gum reaches down and gently pats the boy’s head. This time, he doesn’t flinch away. “And after that, I’ll make sure you get a decent hot meal! No kid of mine is going to look like skin and bones.” The boy eagerly agrees and allows Fat Gum to scoop him up into his arms. He had a feeling it was going to be a dream come true to finally have the fun and affectionate father he’d always imagined.

Shigaraki

People were always going on and on about how hard public servants worked and how important their jobs were. Heroes, police officers, firefighters, health workers… sure, they all had hefty responsibilities, but nobody ever considered the absolute nightmare it was being the leader of the League of Villains. Shigaraki wanted to see someone else try to manage the group of ragtag, lawless, misfits that he’d been left in charge of. It’d be one thing if they were all there to support him and his diabolical plans, but unfortunately a good number of his followers were just hanging around in the hopes of an opportunity to continue the work of the Hero Killer, Stain.

Stain had always been a sore spot with Shigaraki, ever sense the man had shown up at his hideout just to criticize him for not having a clear goal. He’d never admit it out loud, but the jerk might have had a point. At first, he’d just wanted to kill All Might, but that was only because it was what his master, All For One, had wanted. After All For One had been arrested, Shigaraki was sort of left without a guiding hand or a clear path to follow. He still wanted to kill All Might. And he wanted that annoying Midoriya kid dead too. When he really thought about it, Shigaraki just kind of wanted everyone to be dead.

The door to the villain’s hideout clicked open suddenly, making everyone in the bar turn to see who’d arrived. It was just Dabi, trailing in the scent of burnt corpses. Shigaraki clenched his teeth and sighs in annoyance. That ugly fire user was supposed to be out recruiting people to the League, but all he ever did was incinerate any potential members he came across.

“I didn’t know we were running a daycare service now,” Dabi comments lazily while grabbing a stool at the bar and signaling Kurogiri for a drink.

“What are you talking about?” Shigaraki felt the prickling urge to scratch at the flaking skin on his neck, but managed to control himself. Dabi was always trying to get a rise out of him and the worst thing he could do was take the bait.

“Some crusty looking rugrat is hanging around outside,” Dabi shrugs. “You might want to do something about that.” Shigaraki wasn’t sure if the annoying man was messing with him or not, but he sent Twice to check it out just in case. The last thing they needed was a lost child attracting the attention of any heroes. A few minutes later, Twice returned with what looked like a four year old boy trying to claw his way out of his captor’s arms.

“Put me down!” The kid protests before opening his mouth and biting down on Twice’s fingers. The villain drops the kid who lands with a thud on the floor.

“There really was a kid out there!” Twice gestures to the boy dramatically, “He’s completely rabid though! It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen!”

“You picked the wrong place to run away to,” Shigaraki walks up to the boy feeling irritated. “You should’ve stayed with your mommy and daddy.” The boy glares up at him from the ground and Shigaraki gets a big shock. Aside from the hair color, it was like looking into a mirror. The boy had the same piercing red eyes as him. The skin around those familiar eyes was dry and irritated, just like his own too.

“You ARE my daddy!” The kid blurts out and the atmosphere in the bar gets extremely uncomfortable. Of course, the silence is broken by a snort from Dabi.

“Oh man,” he shakes his head. “I can’t believe someone actually had the stomach to sleep with you.”

“Shut up, Dabi!” Shigaraki tries to swallow down the panic and horror bubbling up inside him, but the persistent itch on his neck seemed to double in intensity over this unexpected news. He gives in, reaching up to scratch at the damaged pale skin below his ear. It had been All For One’s idea for him to have an ‘experience’ with a lady. He’d said it was an important part of becoming an adult, but now Shigaraki could only see it as a huge mistake. A voice drifted through his mind, telling him that it would only take five fingers to make this whole problem go away.

“Where’s your mommy?” Toga skips over happily, unable to resist inserting herself into the situation.

“I don’t know,” the boy was putting on a brave face, but it was clear that he was afraid. “We had to leave our house and sleep outside. Mommy said it was because my dad was a villain, but then she was gone when I woke up.”

The story struck a chord in Shigaraki. He’d been left abandoned without a home as well at a very young age. The last thing he wanted to do was sympathize with the brat though. What he wanted was for the kid to disappear. The idea of a guy like him being a parent was laughable. He was barely an adult himself, and he had enough on his plate right now. A small child was only going to be a burden. His fingers twitched, ready to activate his quick as he continues to look down at the helpless boy at his feet. The conflicting feelings inside him were making the itching flare up terribly. Every inch of skin on Shigaraki’s body felt like it was on fire now.

“You’re just like everyone else, aren’t you?” the boy suddenly slumps forward, the fight going out of him. “You hate me.”

A weird resolve washes over Shigaraki at those words. No. He wasn’t like everyone else. If there was one thing all the member of the League of Villains had in common, it was that they’d all been rejected by friends, family, and even heroes for traits they had little or no control over. This boy was just as much a victim of this crooked society as the rest of them.

“You’re forbidden from ever leaving this building,” Shigaraki states flatly. “And don’t expect anyone here to coddle you or clean up after you. The moment you become a nuisance you’re back out on the street.” The boy nods in understanding while finally pushing himself off the ground. Shigaraki wasn’t sure what he’d just signed up for. The only thing he knew for sure was that his job had just gotten a lot more complicated.

#Hawks #Keigo Takami #Fat Gum #tomura shigaraki #Taishiro Toyomitsu #mha imagines #bnha imagines #Cindy's Writing #bnha #mha

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willowbird · 4 years ago

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Hey! For the au + trope + prompt thing, could you do 1 for au, 9 for trope and 27 for prompt with pynch?

(P.S: I just remembered you have already done one with pynch, so you can do this one with another ship of your choosing if this one feels repetitive!)

Roommates AU, strangers to lovers, “that was a very bad idea. 0/10 would not recommend.” ~ for pynch!

I am more than happy to write 10,000 roommate aus for these idiots <3

---

It all started with an only mildly suspicious ad on craigslist:

Roommate needed $275/mo - utilities included must be ok with corvids good w/cars a plus - rent discount if u can prove it

Adam wasn't an idiot. He knew something that was too good to be true when he saw it. He also knew that answering a craigslist ad for a roommate was a good way to get stabbed, robbed, and God only knew what else.

And yet...

Sometimes, when your options were limited it really was better to take every possible avenue to get away from the devil you know - even if that means sharing a small apartment with the devil you don't.

Well, the devil and his pet raven. And really, Chainsaw was by far the more agreeable of the two.

That being said, it wasn't like Ronan was awful. He was an asshole, and he was downright grumpy bastard anytime before 11am. He listened to terrible music, if that trash could ever be considered such. Chainsaw was a sweetheart, though, always bringing Adam new shinies for his approval and sitting with him while he worked on a paper or research or any number of other assignments for his degree.

(Taking the risk that he had by jumping at that craigslist ad meant that he was able to cut back on his hours a little bit at work, go to school full time, and start amassing a savings account.)

And, okay, Ronan probably had some merits too. He could cook, for one thing. Not to say that Adam couldn't cook. He could - he just didn't like to. If it were up to him, he'd probably subsist on saltines and hard-boiled eggs. In fact, he had done exactly that for the first two weeks living with Ronan until the other man had dropped a full plate of breakfast in front of him, stole his crackers, and pointed at him. "Eat like a fucking grown-up," he'd said -and... well, that was that. Sure, Adam had tried to protest, but Ronan had just... started making food for the both of them and maybe if it was shitty food or even mediocre in quality Adam would have been able to ignore it - but it killed something inside Adam to waste food. Especially good food. And Ronan's food was fucking amazing.

So, there was that.

He also wasn't an absolute terror to be around. Having a conversation with Ronan Lynch was a choose-your-own-adventure novel written by very high geniuses. You really never knew what you were going to get and each alternate path was bound to be either completely bat-shit crazy or a humbling level of profound. Not only that, but Ronan didn't pull that alpha-male bullshit so many other men did where they refused to admit they didn't know something. No, when Adam proved that he knew what he was talking about when it came to cars, Ronan just said "teach me?" with such open intensity that Adam couldn't really tell him 'no', alright?

And then there were days like today, where Adam got home from an early shift at the garage to find Ronan sitting halfway out of their third-floor apartment, securing a thick rope to a hook above the window that definitely hadn't been there when Adam left that morning.

"Are you about to do something stupid again?" Adam called up to him as he got out of his car. Upon hearing his voice, Chainsaw (who had been circling anxiously above) crowed out a warbled imitation of speech that sounded a lot like 'Atom' and coasted down to him.

"Me? Stupid? Nah, this is gonna be fucking amazing," Ronan called back without looking away from his work.

Chainsaw landed on Adam's shoulder and clapped her beak affectionately near his ear. Adam dutifully lifted a hand to stroke at the soft feathers of her neck. If he also whispered 'hello beautiful girl, is your papa making trouble for you again?' it was between him and the bird and Ronan would never need to know.

Chainsaw crooned a tense 'kreh!' that Adam took as an affirmative.

"What exactly are you doing, Ronan Lynch?" Adam called up as he took another look at the setup, walking closer to the building. The rope that Ronan had just finished tying to the hook was already secured to a tree on the edge of the parking lot, the one that stood awkwardly out from the rest of the tree line. Their apartment complex was situated right on the edge of a forest preserve. A lot of Ronan's hair-brained ideas usually came back to the forest in one way or another.

"This is just a test run. If I can get it to work right, I'm going to set a line straight into the forest."

"Mm, yes, because... leaving civilization through a door is beneath you?"

Ronan paused, then grinned down at him, the expression somehow both boyish and savage in a way that always made Adam's heart jump for some reason. "Actually, yeah. Literally."

Adam rolled his eyes but didn't bother to fight the smile. "Punk."

"I resent that. I reject all labels, Parrish - you know that."

"Uh-huh. Sure. Well if you-- Ronan what are you doing?"

Ronan had produced what looked like a fucking tie (was that the one Ronan's brother Declan had been wearing when he came by for dinner a couple weeks back?) and had wrapped one end around his hand. As Adam watched, he flicked the loose end of the tie over the taut rope and then wrapped it around his other hand.

"Told you it was a test run, Parrish. That mean's I've actually got to test it."

"Ronan I don't think--"

But it was too late. Ronan had already jumped out of the fucking third-floor window like he was expecting to fly. For a second or two, he sort of did. The rope bowed but supported him and the smooth tie provided little friction as Ronan began to zoom down at a steep angle. Then the rope shuddered and went completely slack, the hook having torn free from the side of the building where it clearly had not been properly anchored. Ronan plummeted like a stone in a still pond.

"Ronan!" Adam did not make the active decision to move, but he was suddenly sprinting to where the jumbled heap of Ronan Lynch had landed on the rough pavement. Chainsaw had already launched ahead and was hopping around near Ronan's head, squawking out anxious reprimands of 'Kerah! Kerah!'

Adam skidded to his knees beside Ronan just as the other man was shakily trying to sit up. "What the FUCK Ronan Lynch!? What were you thinking!? You can't just jump out of a God-forsaken third-floor window like that. Do you want to be killed?" Adam didn't even care that the rural-Virginian flavor of his youth had coated his words in a thick batter, he was so mad.

Ronan blinked at him and there was a strange mix of confusion and pain and... something else on his face. "Scared, Parrish?" The words did not come out as teasing as they normally would.

"Scared? Scared? Of course I was scared. You... you fucking idiot!" Adam had to give himself a moment. He raked his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath, then another. He closed his eyes and tried to center himself. Fear and anger would get him nowhere, even if the fear had already set its nasty little hooks into each and every one of his nerve endings and the anger felt like the only way to burn them away.

A hand touched his shoulder, then his cheek. Adam opened his eyes and Ronan was wearing another indecipherable expression, his dark eyes hooded, his mouth pursed.

"Come on," Adam said as he leaned back so he could stand up. "Can you stand?" Chainsaw continued to hop around, but she'd stopped her distressed shouting, perhaps sensing that Adam was taking control and feeling more comfortable knowing that he would set things to rights, whatever that might mean.

Ronan was quiet for a moment, then seemed to shake himself out of his thoughts before giving a derisive snort. "It was just a little fall, Parrish, I'm --fuck!" Ronan had just tried to stand up, but his knee buckled out from under him as soon as he put his weight on it. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, alright. Alright. Shit. Fuck. That was a very bad idea. 0/10 would not recommend."

"The standing or the stupid fucking stunt you pulled jumping out of a goddamn window?" Adam asked. He attempted to make it as dry as possible, trying to get them back to some kind of equilibrium, but his heart was still racing a bit too fast and he could hear the angry bite in his own words.

Still didn't stop him from instantly stepping forward and catching Ronan, though. He wound an arm around Ronan's waist, guiding Ronan's arm over his shoulders so he could support him.

"The standing, of course. Shit! Ah... fuck. My idea for the apartment-forest zipline is fucking genius thank you."

Adam helped Ronan hobble forward, taking them back toward his car instead of the building. "Yeah. Right. Whatever you say, Lynch."

"Where are we going?"

"To the hospital, dumbass," Adam said with a roll of his eyes, all but shoving Ronan into the passenger seat. He held the door open for Chainsaw to be able to swoop in and land on the idiot's lap. The least Ronan could do was soothe her for the drive.

"You don't have--"

Adam cut him off with a glare. "We. Are. Going. To. The. Hospital. Am I being perfectly clear?"

"...yes." Ronan glared back, but then sank down in his seat, expression mulish.

Adam fixed him with a hard stare that lasted another few heartbeats, then gave a nod and snapped the door shut.

So yes, Ronan Lynch wasn't all that bad. Sometimes the devil you don't really is the better choice. Because sometimes that devil has a cute bird and makes good food and has great conversation. If he also scares the shit out of you on the regular and makes your heart race inexplicably, well, that's not so bad a deal. Right?

#asks #ficlet prompts #fanfic #pynch #trc #roommates au #adam parrish #ronan lynch #chainsaw #adam parrish x ronan lynch #pynch fanfic #trc fanfic

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softcallofdutyimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Woods x reader

Short fic: Woods has had just about enough of the neon night life of Miami and is about to spend another night bored and alone... until he meets you

---

Loosen up, they said. Go have some fun, they said. We can't do anything for a week at least anyway, they said.

Bull shit, he says.

The noise of the neon club pulsates around him, loud as a warzone and yet... Different. The sound in this place has weight. It's heavy and his head feels like it's going to cave in. The lights strain his eyes and make him dizzy, and the smoke... a smell he's normally so accustomed to, is stifling, choking him.

All he has to hold onto, to keep his nerves from erupting inside him, is a tiny crystal shot glass gaurded by his trembling hands. It fits perfectly in his palm, and if he squeezes just a bit harder, it's likely to shatter.

Woods takes a look around from his seat at the bar. A dense haze surrounds him, and in and out of the glowing miasma weaves groups and couples of people, most of which are about half his age.

What is he doing here?

Frank shakes it off and finishes his shot. He slaps money on the counter and heads directly for the door with long, aggressive strides.

He never should've fucking come out here... He was just fine in his damn hotel room. In fact, next time he sees Mason or Adler, he's gonna-

Suddenly, his boot catches and he nearly crashes into the ground. Frank stumbles a few steps before whipping around, a venomous insult at the ready. But before he can utter a sound, he's caught off guard by...

You.

You're hunched over, seated on the stairs and practically curled into a ball. A shame, given that it obscures your lovely outfit. Your face is mostly hidden behind your hands, but it's not enough to keep from revealing your tear stained cheek.

A touch of fear seeps into your eyes as you look up at the angry, imposing man. His eyes are sharp, and his teeth glint in the all the lights as he sneers back at you.

But then... He softens. He relaxes, releasing the tension captured in his shoulders and jaw. His eyes open fully and his mouth shifts from a snarl to something akin to regret.

"Hey uh, sorry... Didn't see ya"

You sniff and give him a forgiving nod, wiping at your eyes, but not before a small sob breaks over you again.

While he does like to pride himself on his tough, rugged nature... Woods is not a man completely devoid of empathy.

"Woah, hey... you alright?", he puts his arms out as though to steady a wild animal, and he approaches slowly.

You shake your head, "No, but it's nothing serious... Ugh, it's stupid if anything"

Woods takes a seat beside you, "Well I'll have you know, you're talking to the fucking King of stupid shit", he laughs, then stops abruptly when he realizes you're not joining in. "Ahem, but uh really. What's up?"

"My... boyfriend, ex boyfriend, dumped me right here and left with someone else. He's been waiting to do this, I know it, he was just too much of a coward to do it without his little support group to point and laugh at me", your nose crinkles in disgust and what could very well be angry tears trickle down.

"Damn... Asshole"

"Yeah... I was thinking of just heading home but, I don't want to leave on a bad note either, you know? Especially after all that... I want to do something for myself"

Woods thinks back to how he nearly tore you apart on his way out of here. "Yeah, I get that. For the record... I think you should", he gives you what he hopes is an encouraging little smile and pats your shoulder, before making to get up and leave.

There, his good deed for the day.

"Well wait... What's your story, huh? No offense, but... This doesn't really look like your scene", you look him up and down, from his tattooed, muscly arms, to his scruffy beard and rough face.

"Oh uh... I'm just passin through". He can hardly tell you that he's here on an illegal mission with his spec ops friends just a few streets down, so he hopes against hope that you'll accept his terribly crafted lie.

By some miracle, you seem to be willing to roll with it. You nod. "Right... Well, thanks for the talk", you dust off your knees and hop up with tiny refections of light bouncing off your sequined outfit, "but I'm going back in for at least one more dance"

You smile confidently, the first of it's kind all night long, but before you trot in through the door, "Say, do you want a dance? You seemed pretty pissed on your way out of here... Maybe you need a good end to the night too", wreathed in ethereal light, like a neon angel, you reach down to offer Frank a hand. "Could be fun", you wink.

A halo of blue and pink illuminates your hair and the gorgeous features of your face as you smile warmly back at him. And before he can even think, Frank finds himself feeling compelled to say yes.

Your clothes and jewelry clink and sparkle in the soft glow of the club, but Frank can't take his eyes off your hand holding his.

You lead him straight to the dance floor, with it's little beams of light shooting up from it. Classic synth hits have been blaring all night long, but you've arrived just in time for the next song. Blue Monday winds up, pulsating through the air, the beat penetrating down to your soul.

"Oh, I love this one!", you raise your hands above your head and jump a bit, just having fun, before launching into something of a choreographed dance.

A good one, at that.

Suddenly Frank feels out of place as he stands there stiffly. He picks and chooses some simple moves from the elaborate combos you're doing and tries his best to copy you. However, he finds himself more jerking to and fro then anything even remotely close to your fluid dancing.

You laugh, feeling a bit bad as you watch him struggle, "Here, like this..."

How does it feel...

You guide his tough, callused hands to your hips and let him feel the rolling motion as you clasp you your arms around his neck.

To treat me like you do...

Your faces are close. Closer then he's been to anyone in a long time... You tilt your chin up and whisper, just loud enough for him to hear, "Slow..."

When you laid your arms around me...

And just like that, everything clicks. The music, the lights, the atmosphere... It's like a whole other dimension and every last one of his senses feel alive.

And told me, who you are...

Frank rolls his hips in sync with yours and he forgets all his troubles. The mission. The cold war. Mason, Adler.... The only one left in this new, strange universe is you.

You, surrounded by dazzling lights as you glint and shine in the neon beams.

You, as you whisper praise to him for successfully performing this simple, young man's dance move.

You, as you turn around and ride his hips, swaying together as the beat drives you both.

His arms, scarred and bulging, caress up your hips and waist while you reach up too, stroking his jaw and planting a tender kiss to his cheek, unlike anything he's ever received before.

And as he turns you around to meet you mouth to mouth, pulling you in tightly, hands clamped on your hips as though you'll disappear. The heat of your body sending warm, excited shivers up his spine. The taste of peppermint and a touch of whiskey as he kisses your soft lips. The club and the noise dissolving away...

He thinks, maybe life off the field isn't so bad...

#call of duty #black ops cold war #frank woods #frank woods x reader

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fangirlwriting-stories · 3 years ago

Text

Fight or Flight

Chapter One

Chapter Two:

It had taken Virgil a while to settle on a name, but once Remus revealed his and Deceit teased the fact that he had one, Wrath had proclaimed that they needed names too. Virgil hadn’t really cared one way or another, but Wrath had poured over internet searches with him, and Virgil had settled on what he chose when they learned it meant “vigilance.” It wasn’t the most standard, but it felt like his, and he liked it. Wrath was still looking, despite his declaration that they both needed to have a name.

Life as part of Remus and Deceit’s “crew” was very unusual compared to what Virgil was used to. They got to eat out in the open, in the kitchen, three times a day. Sometimes Deceit even made meals for them. Virgil had never had an actual meal before. It was… surprisingly nice. So far his favorite was any kind of breakfast for dinner.

Deceit and Remus seemed to understand how exhausted Virgil and Wrath both were, and so for the first couple weeks, Deceit said they’d let them both hide out in their rooms and decompress. But first, they ended up having a conversation that was more than a little surprising.

“So,” Deceit said, right after he finished telling them such. “Before you both head off, what do you want?”

Virgil blinked, and exchanged a confused look with Wrath. “What do you mean?” he asked cautiously, turning back to Deceit.

“Well, I’m not going to force you to help with my schemes without giving you something in return,” Deceit said. “For example, Remus gets free access to his brother’s side of the Imagination—”

“I get to fuck with him whenever I want!” Remus said happily.

Deceit smiled in amusement. “Yes. So, what would you two like in return for helping?”

Virgil didn’t have a clue what to say. What did he want? When was he ever allowed to focus on that?

Wrath didn’t seem to be having the same issue, though. “I want another function,” he said immediately, and Virgil glanced over in surprise. “I don’t care if Avarice has to technically respect us now, I don’t trust him to leave me alone, and if he tries to pull what he did last time, I’m still in trouble with just the one function. I want another one.”

Virgil stared at him for a minute, surprised that Wrath was being so… practical. Normally he gave long talks about what was fair and what he deserved. He… he didn’t actually think that Deceit was going to let them have what they wanted the rest of the time, did he?

But before Virgil could speak up, Deceit nodded. “Fair enough,” he said. “I don’t think it would be a good idea to hunt Avarice down and try and take another function from him. He’s fairly on guard right now. If you’d like, I could share part of my function of Thomas’ self love with you.”

Wrath nodded. “That works,” he said. And so, in a way that was similar to how Virgil had done it, except not by force, Deceit reached inside his chest and pulled out a function. It was soft and warm and yet somehow blazing and fierce at the same time. Virgil watched in astonishment as Deceit split it in half, and floated the warm and fierce half over to Wrath, letting the soft and blazing piece dart back inside himself. He glanced up at Wrath, who nodded.

Deceit turned to Virgil a second later. “Well?”

“Uh…” Virgil couldn’t think so quickly, not with all this pressure. “Uh… can I decide later?” he said, wincing.

“Of course,” Deceit said, thankfully not sounding the least bit bothered. “There’s no time limit. Just let me know when you decide.”

Virgil nodded shakily, trying to process the enormous responsibility that came with that. He had no idea where to even start with figuring that out.

It had been weeks, and he still wasn’t sure.

He’d spent the time in his room both trying to figure that out, and also trying to understand what life would be like if he didn’t have to be in survival mode. Wrath had gotten on his case enough times about decorating his room and finding some hobbies, but he was adjusting to everything too, and he didn’t have a clue how to start with all that stuff on his own either.

So instead, he spent the weeks off laying in his room and trying to convince his brain that everything was going to be fine now, and there was no reason to be scared for his life anymore. But he was pretty sure he’d picked a good function name with Anxiety, because his brain couldn’t seem to let the issue go. And due to the fact that he had two functions now, it took him a while to decide what exactly he wanted to do about it.

He imagined the two functions would settle more the longer he had them, and he’d be less of a walking tug-of-war. But for now, the fight and flight responses seemed a little at war with each other. Part of him wanted to do what he had always done, and run and hide until it was safe (coincidentally, that was also the part of him that wouldn’t believe that he was safe now). The other part of him, the part that had stood up for Wrath and was fed up with living in fear, wanted to lean into this new function and use it to make his life better than it had been before.

Virgil wasn’t really surprised where he ended up at the end of the two weeks.

Remus brightened when he opened his door to find him there. “Hi Virgey!” he called happily. “You’re out of your room!”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, smiling a little back. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Yes, I will go over all the reasons that Thomas is definitely gay with you. So one, he’s never once looked at a girl that way, two—”

“What? No. And Thomas isn’t gay, shut up. I want you to teach me to fight.”

Remus somehow lit up more. “You want me to beat you to a pulp with your permission this time?”

“Well, that’s not exactly what I meant—”

“I would love to! Go ask Wrath if he wants to join and meet me in the Imagination!”

Remus ducked back into his room and shut the door after him, leaving Virgil standing in the hallway. After a minute, he headed over to Wrath’s room and knocked on the door as a warning, before heading in a second later. They’d long moved past the need for knocking, but it had been a rough couple of weeks, and he imagined he would have appreciated the knocking if Wrath was coming into his room.

“Hey,” Virgil said, poking his head in just in case Wrath was busy with something. “I asked Remus to teach me how to fight. He wants to know if you want to join.”

Wrath glanced up from his desk and over at Virgil. “Oh. Okay. Are you sure learning to fight from Remus is the best idea?”

“It’s a better idea than learning how to fight through experience.”

Wrath shrugged. “Fair enough I guess. When are we doing this?”

“Now.”

Wrath blinked. “Now?”

“You don’t have to come.”

“No, I’m coming,” Wrath said, pushing the chair back and standing. “Honestly I just wasn’t expecting you to want to do something like that.”

“New functions are strange things,” Virgil said. “I’m still figuring this one out, but I thought I might as well help it along.”

“Fair enough,” Wrath said, looking down at his own chest, and they both crossed the commons, without ducking behind any furniture, and headed into Remus’ room. Virgil suspected he’d let them in without knocking, and he was right.

The door to the Imagination on the other side of the room was left open, and when they walked through it, Remus was finishing putting the final touches on what looked like a sparring ring.

“Hey!” Remus called, as soon as he noticed they were there. “Okay, so before we actually start sparring, do you know anything about how to fight safely?”

Virgil and Wrath exchanged a glance. “Uh… not really,” Virgil admitted, looking back over.

“I tried to convince him to fight like a million times before he actually did,” Wrath said with a shrug.

“Hey,” Virgil said, whacking Wrath on the arm half-seriously.

“Okay,” Remus said, and Virgil couldn’t quite read his tone. “This’ll be fun then.”

“What do you—” Virgil started, but his question was cut off when Remus ran straight for him and threw a punch at his head. Virgil yelped and dove to the side, and the fist met with empty air. “Hey, what the hell!”

“Aw come on, hold still so I can punch you,” Remus said, still grinning. He dove for Wrath this time, who ducked under Remus’ arm and ended up on the other side of Virgil.

“Thanks for staying together, at least!” Remus called, whirling to face them, meaning that as he dove for them again Virgil and Wrath both split off in opposite directions.

“I thought you were going to teach us how to punch or something!” Virgil snapped.

“Aw, but where’s the fun in that?” Remus asked, leaping for him again as Virgil ducked down to avoid his fist and slid between his legs. He couldn’t be lucky forever, though, and as he stood up Remus caught him by the arm and spun him into the wall. Virgil shook off the shock just in time to slip sideways and avoid Remus’ fist then, meaning it connected with the wall instead.

“Oh, fuck, that hurt!” Remus said, even though he was still grinning for some reason. He waved his hand, and it looked like several broken bones healed themselves. He threw another swing at Virgil, and Virgil darted around him, then ran for the door, where Wrath was already headed.

“Hey, I’m not done with you yet!” Remus called, and the door disappeared just as they both reached it.

Virgil spun around and started looking for other ways out, and Wrath glared at Remus. “Hey, that’s not—” he called, but Remus just aimed a kick at his head.

Wrath gave a growl of frustration and kicked at Remus’ leg still on the ground, and Remus fell over onto his back just in time for Wrath to put a foot on his chest.

“Jeez, finally,” Remus said, grinning up at Wrath from where he was pinned.

“What the hell do you mean finally?” Wrath snapped. “And what the hell was that?”

“That was me proving you two were full of bullshit,” Remus said, leaning to the side and biting Wrath’s leg. Wrath cried out, more in surprise than pain, and jerked backwards, giving Remus time to leap to his feet.

“You said you didn’t know anything about fighting,” Remus said.

“We don’t,” Virgil said, crossing his arms. “I asked you to teach us for that very reason!”

“Really? Cause I was only sort of taking it easy on you, and you dodged me pretty well,” Remus said, raising his eyebrows.

“Well yeah,” Virgil said. “You learn how to dodge if it keeps you alive. What’s your point?”

“Dodging is a part of fighting, dummies,” Remus said, rolling his eyes. “You can’t just expect to win every fight with offense.”

“That’s what Avarice did, though,” Wrath said, tipping his head in confusion.

“Yeah, cause Avarice is a pathetic coward who was only used to winning due to the fact that he was on top of all the other single-function sides. You were there when he lost, like, immediately after Virgil stood up to him, right?”

Virgil blinked. “But that’s not—”

“Whatever you’re about to say, yes it is. You’re both very good at defense. You could probably get your opponent spinning themselves in circles and get them off guard with no effort. The part you need to learn is how to use those moments after you create them. That requires brain stuff and logic.” Remus looked at Wrath. “That whole time I was shoving Virgil into the wall, you could have used to sneak up on me from behind. And you could have done the leg sweeping when you ducked under my arm and ended the fight right then and there.” He turned to Virgil. “While I was approaching Wrath at the end there, you should have been looking for weaknesses on my other side and using them to weaken me so he could take me out. Fighting two against one isn’t hard if you both know what you’re doing, you know.”

Virgil took all of that information in. Surprisingly, Remus had several very good points. “Okay,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean we know how to actually hit someone where it’s going to hurt.”

“Fair enough,” Remus admitted. “We can start with the basics there. Make a fist.”

Virgil did his best interpretation, and Wrath did the same next to him.

“You want your thumb outside your fingers,” Remus said to Wrath. “And Virgil, if you put it up along the side like that you’re going to break your thumb when you hit something. Like this.” He put his thumb on the underside of his fingers, and Virgil and Wrath both copied it.

“Okay,” Remus said with an approving nod. “Now we’re getting somewhere.” He waved his hand, and a couple punching bags appeared over by the wall. “Let’s get started.”

…

Fighting might have been exhausting, but it didn’t take Virgil very long to realize that he fucking loved it. It was playing directly into his strengths and just reframing them in a different way. He learned pretty quickly to recognize those moments Remus said he and Wrath could create so well, and once he saw them all the time, it was incredibly satisfying to use them to his advantage. Remus said he still needed to work on not ducking and running so often, and Wrath needed to learn how to be a little more precise with his movements, but pretty soon Remus stopped taking it easy on them entirely, and they could both still keep up. Remus gave them both free access to the training room he’d created, and Virgil started finding himself in there more often than not. His new function was very happy about it. Virgil suspected he’d still be a little more ‘flight’ than ‘fight’ for a while since the latter was still so new, but he was beginning to recognize when one was the more logical move over the other in a given situation.

But something that also came as a surprise in an entirely different way was that Remus didn’t seem to want to spend all of his time fighting. In fact, more often than not, when Virgil used his new permission to head into Remus’ room without knocking, he found the side doing something else entirely. Remus was currently on a trend of making a lot of stories of grotesque animal deaths, and they freaked Virgil out, but he had to admit they were well done. He also seemed to like painting and singing, and then there was what happened when Virgil walked in today, and he found him in the bathroom doing something with his face.

“Remus?” Virgil asked, and looked down at the stuff on the counter. It was some kind of powdery thing that Remus was rubbing near his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Eyeshadow,” Remus said, without looking back over at Virgil. “Hang on, I’ll suck your dick in a second.”

“Okay, first of all, ew. Second, what do you mean eyeshadow? Your eyes don’t just look like that?”

Remus finished with the rubbing and turned to look over at Virgil. “You thought my eyelids were naturally purple?”

“Uh… they’re not?”

Remus snorted. “Okay, let me show you. Pick a color.”

Virgil looked down at the powders on the counter. “Uh, black. Why?”

“C’mere,” Remus said, picking up a different tool and rubbing the foam end in the black powder. Virgil stepped closer, and then Remus suddenly got very close to his face, very quickly.

Virgil flinched backwards, and a second later, he gagged. “Dude, your breath stinks.”

“Why thank you! Now hold still Virge, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Virgil did manage to hold still, despite Remus’ close distance and terrible breath, and after a while, Remus leaned back. “Hmm. Okay, what do you think?”

He turned Virgil to face the mirror, and Virgil leaned closer in surprise. “You made it black,” he said, reaching up towards the space under his eyes.

“Hey, don’t touch it!” Remus called, catching his hand. “You’ll rub it away!”

Virgil moved his hand down but didn’t stop looking in the mirror. After another moment, he started to grin. “That’s cool as shit,” he said. “I didn’t know you could do that!”

“You’ve never heard of makeup before?” Remus asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ve kind of been focused on other things for most of my life,” Virgil said, looking down at the powder. “How often do you do that?”

“Every morning,” Remus said. “How else do you think I look this hot all the time?”

Virgil grinned at him. “Can I have some?”

Remus brightened. “Absolutely!” He waved his hand, and a new set of the foam tools he used and the powder appeared in his hand. “Go nuts!”

Virgil took them and shoved them into his hoodie pocket, which was still where he kept important things like food and water, so the eyeshadow ended up sitting on top of the snacks and water bottle he had in case Deceit decided not to let them into the kitchen that night.

“If you want tips or tricks at any point, let me know and I’ll help you out!” Remus said happily. “Dee hasn’t ever really been interested in this stuff, so I learned it all on my own.”

“I think I might just take you up on that,” Virgil said, since Remus obviously did a fantastic job based on Virgil’s limited knowledge.

He put the eyeshadow in his bathroom later, which had never been much to him before other than just a bathroom, as well as his source of drinking water. But after that, Virgil ended up there every morning to put eyeshadow on. Wrath smiled at him when he noticed it and said he looked good, which cemented Virgil deciding to keep it right then and there. When he told Remus, he taught him how to summon his own, so he didn’t have to ask every time.

Wrath hadn’t been doing anything with makeup, but he was trying different outfit styles, and he seemed to like the experimenting just as much as the way most of them looked on him. It was fun to see him try. Remus offered them plenty of sparkly outfits too, which Virgil definitely wasn’t going to take him up on.

He was dreading the inevitable day that Wrath did.

…

One of the things Virgil was still getting used to was the idea that they could spend time in the commons now. The first time Avarice spotted them there, Virgil had needed to try hard not to let his fear show, but it was helped along by Avarice’s rage quickly turning into the same look of forced respect he’d given Remus.

It had been gleefully satisfying, but also cemented the fact that Virgil had pretty much already been certain of. If he wanted to keep this lifestyle, if he didn’t want to have to fear for his life anymore, if he wanted Avarice’s delicious forced respect, Deceit was the one he couldn’t piss off. Because when Avarice talked to Remus, or now Virgil and Wrath too, the emotion underlying the respect was anger.

With Deceit, it was fear.

So when Virgil spent time in the commons, he made a point to make sure Deceit wasn’t around, at least until he could figure out whether or not he was okay with Virgil being there. Virgil had warned Wrath of this too, but in typical “fairness” fashion, Wrath had taken to spending time in the commons whenever he wanted because he said he deserved it.

So when Virgil spotted him looking through the movie closet, he immediately walked over and put his hands on his hips. “Are you nuts?”

Wrath jumped slightly and turned. A second later, he brightened. “Oh, hey Virgil! You want to watch a movie with me?”

“You can’t stay out here in the commons that long!” Virgil exclaimed.

“Yes, I can. We can,” Wrath said.

“Deceit will find out,” Virgil hissed.

Wrath narrowed his eyes, even if Virgil could see the fear underneath. “It’ll be fine,” he said.

“Wrath—”

“Look, Deceit can’t kick us out of the commons whenever he wants,” Wrath says.

“Of course he can! He’s Deceit! He gets to do anything he wants!”

“Yes,” Wrath said. “But it would—”

“It wouldn’t be fair, I get it,” Virgil groaned, looking up at the ceiling.

“Actually, I was going to say it would be cruel. We deserve to stay out here and relax if we want to. Come on, let’s watch…” He pulled a movie out. “This one.”

Virgil looked at the movie and then raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding me? You want to risk getting caught out here by Deceit in order to watch a movie called The Little Mermaid?”

Wrath looked down at the movie, seemed to hesitate for a minute, then narrowed his eyes further and crossed his arms. “Absolutely.”

Virgil gave a long sigh and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. If Wrath was going to be out here, it’s not like he could leave him by himself. “Fine,” Virgil said, shaking his head. “Let’s do it.”

Wrath lit up, and they walked over to the couch to sit down and watch a movie that was absolutely going to be a cheesy terrible kid film.

…And it sort of started out that way.

“There’s a sea witch?” Virgil asked in surprise, leaning a little closer to the TV.

“That’s what it said,” Wrath said, glancing over at him. “Why? Is that interesting?”

“What? No,” Virgil said, crossing his arms and glaring away. “I’m just… surprised.”

Wrath snickered, and Virgil decided he wasn’t going to have any more positive reactions for the rest of the movie.

Unfortunately, that didn’t last long, because then the sea witch started singing. By the time Ariel ended up as a human up on the land, Virgil was fully invested, and there he had no doubt that Wrath could tell. But he couldn’t find it in him to care, because Wrath had been pushing him to find hobbies for years, and did he mention that the sea witch could sing?!

By the time they reached the mind control of Prince Eric and the wedding that Ariel had to rush to stop, Virgil was up and pacing back and forth while making sure he could still see the screen. The final battle came a few minutes later, and Virgil just straight up walked back and yanked Wrath off the couch and started shaking him (while still watching the movie, of course). “Dude, she sounds like she’s using my tempest voice and looks like a giant evil Remus, could this get any more awesome?!”

Wrath started laughing, and then as Virgil watched, this children’s movie’s climax ended with the prince stabbing the witch in the fucking stomach. Virgil sat on the couch and gaped for every second of the happy ending.

“Oh. my. god.” He turned and looked at Wrath. “Who made that movie? Is there more? Oh my god, please let there be more!”

“Uh…” Wrath grabbed the case for the tape they’d been watching and looked for a name. After a second, his face screwed up in confusion. “Um, I think it’s… Gisney?”

“The hell kind of name is that?” Virgil asked, peering over at it. “Oh whatever, is there more? Come on, we have to find more!”

He dragged Wrath back over towards the closet and started handing him movies that had the same logo on it. There were quite a few in there, and he handed Wrath a movie called Bambi, one called The Lion King, Hercules, Mulan, Tarzan, Cinderella. There were far too many for them to be able to watch all of them right now, but they were definitely going to sit here until dinnertime, Deceit be damned.

…Okay not really. But unless he literally screamed at Virgil to get out, Virgil was staying right here. He had movies to watch.

…

Wrath was surprisingly willing to watch what they learned were called Disney movies with Virgil most of the time, despite the fact that he didn’t seem to love them as much as Virgil did. He still liked them, but Virgil wasn’t sure what else he could do other than eat, sleep, and breathe Disney until he finished all of the movies, and Wrath didn’t seem quite that interested. There were days that he wanted to do other things, and Virgil wasn’t going to hold him hostage, but he also didn’t want to watch movies out in the commons alone in case Deceit got mad, which was how Virgil ended up asking Remus.

Remus was surprised and amused when he learned that Virgil hadn’t ever heard of Disney before recently, and said Virgil would probably get along with his brother.

“The Core Creativity?” Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow. “I definitely wouldn’t.”

“Don’t shoot the idea down so quickly,” Remus said with a grin. “He likes Disney too, you know.”

“And I would bet you that is where the similarities end,” Virgil said, looking through the movies on the table and trying to decide if he should watch Dumbo or The Fox and the Hound next.

“You might be right about that,” Remus admitted. “Okay, hey, enough with the fantasy type stuff. My turn to pick a Disney movie.”

“I don’t know if I want to know what you would consider a good Disney movie,” Virgil said. “You can’t just appreciate the giant tentacle monsters when they come up?”

“Oh, come on. You’ll like this one!” Remus exclaimed.

Virgil gave him a look for a moment, considered the chances of that being true, and shrugged. “Alright. What’s it called?”

“Okay, so this isn’t a traditional Disney movie, but it totally counts because Disney’s still the company behind it and it’s awesome,” Remus said, jumping up and moving over to the closet, and returning with a movie he shoved into Virgil’s hands called The Nightmare Before Christmas.

“Oh, hey, what’s Christmas?” Virgil asked. “I see decorations set up for it every winter, but I’ve never actually gotten to celebrate it.”

“Eh, the movie will explain it,” Remus said, waving his hand dismissively. “Besides, this is really a Halloween movie.”

“What’s Halloween?” Virgil asked.

Remus gaped at him. “You don’t know what Halloween is?”

“I don’t really know what Christmas is either,” Virgil pointed out. “I’ve heard of it. It’s a holiday, right? Something with costumes?”

“Um, it’s the holiday! It’s so much better than Christmas! Have you not noticed that every September through November the mindscape down here practically turns into a haunted house?”

“Oh, is that what all of that was for,” Virgil said. “I appreciated that. It gave me tons of new hiding places and ways to blend in.”

“Virgil,” Remus said, pulling Virgil closer and grabbing him by the shoulders so he could look him in the eyes. “Halloween is not about being scared. It’s about being scary! Well, and going around to strangers’ houses and not getting kidnapped and getting free candy, but also being scary! Just— oh my god, sit down, we’re watching this movie.”

Remus sat Virgil back in the spot that he’d dragged him out of in the first place and played the Halloween movie that was still technically a Disney movie. But it wasn’t long before Virgil found that unlike traditional Disney movies, that hid dark implications under the surface, this movie was entirely about that kind of stuff. He got sucked in just as quickly to this one as he did to a typical Disney movie, and it was clear Remus was noticing, because Virgil could feel him bouncing on the couch next to him. By the end of it, they were both talking excitedly about it and shooting ideas back and forth.

“Hey,” Remus said suddenly, cutting off one of Virgil’s questions. “Do you want to help me make decorations this year?”

Virgil started grinning. “I can do that?”

“Are you kidding, that would be awesome!” Remus exclaimed, jumping up off the couch and pulling Virgil with him. “Hang on, let me show you what my ideas are this time, because see, with last years look, it was good, but it was missing a little something. And you know all of Thomas’ fears, so I think that could be really helpful, and—” Remus kept going on with ideas, and by the time they got back to the room Virgil was thinking too. He wasn’t sure how much help he would be, given that he wasn’t Creativity, but he was willing to share thoughts or be a rubber duck if Remus wanted.

And this Halloween thing sounded better than he thought it had been. Virgil found himself looking forward to it.

…

There were times Virgil wondered if he would ever stop being a little bit afraid all the time. He couldn’t see Avarice without having some level of a fear reaction, despite the side not being much of a part of his life in any way anymore. Virgil spotted him slinking around the halls with sides like Malice or Cruelty and sometimes smirked at him when they made eye contact, because he knew Avarice couldn’t do anything about it anymore. Sometimes he would have a nightmare about Avarice and get out of bed at night and go check to make sure Wrath was still alive. Sometimes Wrath would check on him, so at least he wasn’t alone in that regard.

However, most of the time none of that was an issue. Because as his brain finally started to settle down a little bit, Virgil realized that life as part of Remus and Deceit’s crew was actually pretty good. He liked Remus a lot. He and Wrath both sparred with him often, and Remus helped him try different styles of makeup (though black eyeshadow was still his usual). Wrath spent a lot of time helping Remus edit stories he was working on, and was surprisingly good at it. Virgil realized after a couple months that he could actually leave Wrath alone and not have to worry about returning to find him dead. But there was still one part of all of this change that didn’t feel as good, and that was Deceit.

Virgil could not wrap his head around the side. Why give them free access to the commons? At least, he would have stopped Virgil by now if he wasn’t allowed to hang out there, right? Why check on Remus all the time? He didn’t have to worry that Remus would turn up dead, did he? Why on earth did he make meals for all of them? He was teaching Wrath how to cook, why was he doing that? He didn’t gain anything out of any of that. In fact, sometimes he seemed irritated when Remus interrupted him to show him something, or ask him something, but he stopped anyway and gave it his attention.

Virgil couldn’t wrap his head around it. So most of the time, he ended up avoiding Deceit. It’s what he’d done in the past. Stay out of his way, don’t give Deceit a reason to sign off on his death. They could tolerate each other’s existence, and that would be fine. He didn’t expect anyone to call him out on it.

It ended up being Wrath that did so.

Virgil was hanging his new Nightmare Before Christmas posters in his room and listening to a band he found. It was called Evanescence, and it was fantastic. He needed to hear more of this kind of music in general. He’d see what he could find the next couple of weeks.

“Hey.”

Virgil yelped and nearly fell off the chair. He heard just as surprised of a cry behind him and was caught and steadied by Wrath.

“Fuck,” Virgil said, spinning around. “Don’t you know better than to sneak up on me like that by now?”

“Sorry, I was planning on knocking,” Wrath said, smiling a little.

“And what happened to that plan?” Virgil asked, reaching out and pausing the music he was listening to.

“I don’t know, it’s just… nice,” Wrath said, looking around the room.

“What’s nice?”

“Watching you figure out who you are then being yourself. I told you it was worth it.”

“Yes, yes, you were right all along. Shut up,” Virgil said, finishing adjusting his posters and climbing down from the chair. “So what’s going on?”

“I was wondering if I could ask you something,” Wrath said, as Virgil picked up his desk chair and moved it back over to his desk.

Virgil gave him a look over his shoulder. “Well, now that I’m appropriately anxious, sure.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Wrath said. “I mean, I don’t think.”

“Wow, thanks, now I’m not anxious at all.”

“Yeah, that probably didn’t help huh. Look just— why do you never talk to Deceit?”

Virgil startled at the question. “What do you mean? Did— has he said something to you? Does he not like it or something?”

“What? No, I just noticed. I mean, it’s one thing if you still just talked to me, but you talk to Remus all the time, and you two hang out on your own too. What’s the deal with Deceit? He doesn’t bite.”

“Are you kidding me? Yes he does! Or, he could. How many other sides do you think get to decide my fate, Wrath? You think I’m going to let my guard down around someone that powerful? He’s not going to keep us around just because! I’m not going to risk screwing that up any more than I have to! I don’t think you should either.”

But Wrath just shook his head. “That’s not what he’s like, Virgil. You should get to know him. He’s not nearly as bad as the idea you have of him.”

“Oh, no, he’s just the side that let Avarice run unchecked until the point where it almost killed us,” Virgil said. “I’m sure he’s just such a warm and caring person.”

“That’s not…” Wrath sighed. “I didn’t say he was a perfect side who can do no wrong,” he said. “But neither is Remus. He used to torment you much more directly, and you’re okay spending time with him.”

“That’s different. That gave me some protection. It was a mutually beneficial relationship.”

“And you don’t think Remus is sorry?”

Virgil blinked in surprise at the question. “What?”

Wrath sighed. “Just… try talking to Deceit. Maybe try talking to both of them. I think it’ll go differently than you expect.”

Virgil didn’t quite know what to say. He hadn’t planned on talking to Deceit ever. He had always been powerful and dangerous and he scared him.

But then again… he had never expected to have a friendship with Remus either. And he couldn’t deny that’s what the two of them were now.

“I… okay,” Virgil said. “Maybe.”

Wrath brightened.

“Maybe,” Virgil reiterated. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good enough for now,” Wrath said, and looked like he meant it.

And so Virgil did think about it. He still didn’t understand Deceit, but maybe Wrath was right, and that was something that could be helped by talking to him. First, though, he was more intrigued by what Wrath said about Remus.

“Hey, Re,” Virgil called, knocking absentmindedly on the door as he walked in. “Can I talk to you?”

Remus was dangling upside down from the ceiling by his tentacles.

“Uh… what are you doing?” Virgil asked as he approached.

“Trying to look at this painting from a different angle,” Remus said. “I don’t think it’s working. I think I might go and annoy my brother to try and get some inspiration.” He flipped himself around and landed on the bed. “What’s up?”

“I was talking to Wrath,” Virgil said, shoving his hands inside his hoodie pocket so he could fidget with his fingers. “And he said something about you feeling bad for the way you used to treat me.”

He looked up hesitantly, only to find that Remus was now looking down, pulling on his sash. “Yeah,” he muttered.

“I don’t understand why,” Virgil said, and Remus looked up instantly.

“What do you mean you don’t know why?”

“I mean… I did that on purpose. If you or Deceit had a reason to keep me around, it would make Avarice less likely to try and kill me. I knew exactly what I was getting myself into. I’m not mad at you or anything.”

Remus stared at him. “But— why jump straight to that?” he asked. “You could have asked for help.”

“From The Duke and Deceit?” Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow. “You realize you two are the highest authority down here, right? You weren’t going to listen to a scared single function side begging for protection for his life.”

Remus winced, meaning Virgil was right. “Yeah,” he admitted. “And that’s… kind of why I’m sorry.”

Virgil blinked. “Huh?”

“Look, I like doing deeply fucked up stuff and exploring that kind of thing,” Remus said. “That’s my whole job. But I mean, people also need some kind of human companionship. Dee-Dee says it’s important for me to have people that I care about, people who can trust that I won’t hurt them or abandon them. And you…” Remus crossed his arms and looked away. “You’re family now. You and Wrath. And I came really close to losing that. Or like, never having it at all. So I guess I just want to grab past me and shake him by the shoulders and tell him how important you and Wrath are gonna become to me. And that he should be doing more to help you.”

Virgil didn’t know quite what to say to that for a moment. “I think…” he said finally. “I think that’s just how life is supposed to work, Remus. Once people start to matter to you, you treat them as such. And you shouldn’t be expected to do it beforehand. It’s not your fault the stakes were life or death.”

“I mean it kind of is a little bit though?” Remus pointed out. “I could have easily done more to stop Avarice.”

Virgil shrugged. “Would you stop him if he tried that stuff again?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. That’s that, then. We’re all good. No need to feel bad anymore.”

Suddenly, in a way Virgil wasn’t expecting, all of the tension melted out of Remus. “Oh, thank fuck,” he said. “Because I hated it.”

Virgil laughed a little, and Remus grinned at him, and Virgil decided he liked how close they’d become too.

After a moment, Virgil glanced at the painting Remus was doing, and his face screwed up in confusion. “Uh… what exactly are you trying to do with this?” he asked.

Remus groaned. “I don’t know anymore! Okay, okay, let me just, like, run this by you.”

“Okay,” Virgil said, and settled back into the bed as Remus started to talk about the painting.

He didn’t fully realize until later that Wrath was right, and that the conversation had gone differently than expected. And also that it was… nice, to have it confirmed that Remus cared about him. It was a warm feeling, and not one that Virgil minded in the slightest.

It was for that reason that he decided the risk might be worth it, and went to go talk to Deceit. He knocked on his door shortly before lunch, and Deceit looked surprised when he opened it. “Anxiety,” he said, and Virgil realized in surprise that he’d never told Deceit the name he’d picked. “Can I help you with something?”

“Uh—” Virgil didn’t know where to take this conversation anymore. “Wrath— he uh, he said I should talk to you.”

“Oh? About what?”

Virgil looked around, trying to think of anything he could say. What did he say to Deceit? He didn’t know anything about him. He didn’t have a clue what would piss him off.

As a result, what ended up coming out of his mouth was “Are you mad that I spend so much time in the commons?”

Deceit’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why on earth would I be mad about that?”

“Uh… I don’t know. It’s just kind of— I mean. I never did that before. It was dangerous to spend too much time in the commons. I guess I’m wondering if it still… is?”

Deceit gave him a look for a long moment, and Virgil tried not to freak out.

“Come here,” Deceit said eventually, and walked back inside his room and over to his bed. Hesitantly, Virgil followed him and sat down.

“You seem to be under the implication,” Deceit said, turning to face him. “That I am cruel. That I rule this side of the mindscape with an iron fist and keep Remus around as a guard dog and keep you and Wrath around as a way to placate him. That I can and will throw any of you to the wolves at my slightest whim.”

Virgil didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t actually thought any of that directly, but… he couldn’t exactly say Deceit was wrong.

“Well, what other reasons could you have for letting us stick around?” he asked hesitantly.

Before Deceit could reply, there was a call of “Dee-Dee!” from behind and they both turned to see Remus poking his head in the door. “Can I add deodorant to my meal tonight?”

“So long as you keep track of which one is yours,” Deceit said, and Virgil turned back to look at him and saw him smiling in amusement, and something else he couldn’t quite place.

“Awesome!” Remus called happily, and bounded away again. Deceit shook his head, still smiling, and Virgil realized the second thing he couldn’t place was fondness.

“You…” he said slowly, and Deceit looked at him again. “You love him?”

Deceit raised an eyebrow. “I practically raised him, Anxiety,” he said. “That would of course make it quite difficult for me to love him.”

Virgil looked back over towards the way Remus had run in, and then turned again hesitantly to Deceit. “But you… you never did anything,” he said. “Avarice was killing off half of the mindscape and you didn’t even seem to care.”

Deceit sighed. “That was a grave mistake that I should have done something about long ago,” he said. “I assumed that giving more sides multiple functions would make things easier for Thomas. I wasn’t thinking of any of the sides involved at all. But then you two showed up, and I…” he sighed again. “I didn’t think of how my actions were going to affect you,” he said plainly. “I will not make that mistake again, Anxiety.”

Virgil didn’t quite know what to say at first. But Deceit didn’t look away, and he looked completely sincere. Maybe Wrath was right about this too. Maybe he wasn’t someone to fear at all times.

“…Virgil,” he said after a moment.

Deceit raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry?”

“That’s my name. I picked one. It’s Virgil.”

Deceit looked a little surprised, and Virgil suddenly started to doubt everything he ever decided he liked about his name, but all Deceit did was nod. “Virgil. Fair enough.” He was quiet for another moment, seemingly thinking. “Then I suppose you may call me Janus.”

Somehow, Virgil was equally surprised at the return of trust offered to him, but he nodded. “Okay. I…” he bit his lip. “Could I maybe get to know you? Since you don’t sound like you’re going to attempt to murder me the second I make a mistake?”

Janus smiled slightly, looking a mixture of amused and saddened, and nodded. “I think I would like that,” he said. “I’m about to go and cook dinner with Wrath. Would you like to join us?”

“Sure,” Virgil said, standing as Janus did. They both headed out towards the kitchen, and when Wrath noticed them coming, he smiled and raised an eyebrow at Virgil. Virgil flipped him off.

But yeah, he was glad he’d talked with Janus too.

…

It took Virgil a while to figure this out, because he couldn’t think of much that he wanted, not with his life having improved so much in ways he wasn’t used to. But Janus had told him he got something he wanted, and the idea had always sort of been in the back of his mind. After a while, Virgil did come to the conclusion that there was something he wanted and didn’t have.

He brought it up one night at dinner, after somehow managing to find a moment where Remus wasn’t in the middle of speaking.

“Um, I have an announcement,” he said, and everyone looked over at him. “So, Janus, you said that we get something in return for helping you, and I know I’ve kind of taken my time figuring it out, but I think I know.”

“Oh, yay!” Remus called. “Do you want access to my brother’s imagination with me? It’s so fun to fuck with his stuff, you have no idea—”

“I want to talk to Thomas,” Virgil said, and Remus, remarkably, stopped talking. All three members of his family were staring at him, and Virgil probably would have taken it back if it had been something he’d come up with that afternoon instead of something he’d been thinking about for a while.

Janus leaned towards him. “Virgil,” he said. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“But isn’t he what we do all of this for?” Virgil asked. “Don’t we all care about him? I want to meet him.”

“He’s not going to like you,” Janus warned. “Not at first, maybe not ever.”

“I know that,” Virgil said. Janus looked uncertain, and Remus cut in in his stead.

“Look, Thomathy’s fun to gross out,” he said. “But he’s definitely not going to like any of us. I don’t really care, but I don’t want you to get hurt, Virgey.”

“I’m not some fragile thing,” Virgil protested. “I know how to deal with hatred.”

“Neither of us loved Avarice,” Wrath said. “Hate hurts a lot more if it’s coming from someone you care about.”

“I’m not under some kind of delusion that Thomas is going to adore me,” Virgil said. “I know I’m going to get yelled at and kicked out. But my whole purpose now is to protect him. That would be easier to do if I could actually talk to him.”

Both Remus and Wrath still looked unsure, but Virgil looked back over at Janus just in time for him to nod.

“Alright,” he said. “Tomorrow you can talk to Thomas.”

The tension in Virgil’s chest released, and he started to smile. “Thank you,” he said, and Janus nodded again. Virgil still couldn’t read his expression, but he would get to talk to Thomas like he wanted, so he could live with that.

Janus told him after dinner that the two mindscapes were very closed off from each other, and while that would probably change once Virgil met Thomas, that meant that for now they needed to find an alternative way in. Luckily, Remus had access to his brother’s side of the imagination.

That meant that the next day, Virgil and Remus both headed through Remus’ imagination and towards the other half. Both sides of the imagination right now were various versions of kingdoms, separated by a high wall. Remus’ was crumbling and corrupt and overrun with monsters for him to beat up and empty buildings for him to destroy. He flew them on a dragon over most of it, but as they approached the wall, he waved it away, and Virgil was about to ask why when he noticed flowers starting to pop up. A rose bush over to the right, some lilacs to the left. He could have sworn he saw a rabbit just before it burrowed under the ground.

There was a door in the wall that Remus said he could open whenever he wanted, and he did so to present the Core Creativity’s imagination. The first thing Virgil saw was a couple stretches of the barren wasteland that looked like it should have been on this side of the wall, followed immediately by a cute forest filled with woodland creatures and flowers and whistling birds. Virgil looked back around the flowers on this side of the wall. The two halves of the imagination looked like they were bleeding into each other. Was that Remus’ doing?

Remus didn’t seem to pay any of this any mind, though, and just started walking into the other side of the imagination.

“Okay,” he said, as Virgil followed, only for Remus to stop just at the edge of the wasteland. “So he keeps the door to their mindscape way up in the castle, and I don’t want to walk all the way there. Just give me a sec.”

He waved his hand, and a dragon appeared, with a saddle on his back that looked ready for him to climb on.

“Why get rid of the one we made when we walked into your imagination just to make another one?” Virgil asked.

“I can’t make as much here. I have to make all of the things I want to bring over there in this spot right here, and my brother would have to do the same on the other side if he ever wanted to come visit me for some reason. Or I could give him permission to make stuff in my half, but he hasn’t for me, so why the hell would I do that for him? And anything I make in my imagination wouldn’t work over here. It’s like the mindscape wants to remind my brother that he’ll never fully get rid of me,” Remus said with a grin as he climbed onto the new dragon.

Virgil shrugged. He supposed that made some level of sense. He climbed onto the back of the dragon behind Remus and they both started flying towards the castle. They landed just outside it, and the villagers below them all started to scream and run and hide inside their houses. Remus blew a raspberry at them.

Virgil followed him into the castle and through the halls until they ended up stopping in front of a set of bright red double doors that looked different from the rest of the imagination.

Remus opened it and stepped back. “End of the line for me,” he said. “Have fun. I’ll be waiting to fly you home when you get back.”

“Thanks,” Virgil said, steeling his nerves. He stepped through the doors, and they swung shut behind him. He jumped and looked back at it. At least he would only have to do this part once, before Thomas knew about him and he just got to just appear out with him. He crept down the hallway, listening for voices, and picked up on them just before he made it around the corner. He hung back a second and peeked around the wall.

There was the Core Creativity, foot braced on a coffee table and sword stuck up in the air. He was going on a long rant to who Virgil was pretty sure was Logic, who was flipping through a book on his couch and looking amused and irritated at the same time.

“Okay,” came one last voice, and the last side that could only be Morality appeared from another room, carrying a platter of what looked like cookies. “They’re finally done.”

“Magnificent!” Core Creativity called happily, finally climbing down off the coffee table and grabbing a cookie. Morality offered one to Logic, who took it, and then grabbed one for himself. “I was just explaining how my newest story is coming along! Would you like to hear it, Padre?”

“I’d love to,” Morality said happily, and Virgil ducked back behind the wall to try and process what he was seeing. The core sides didn’t seem that different from his own family. Of course, everything up here was way too bright, and the three of them seemed like idiots who were way too optimistic about everything all the time, but other than that, they looked like a family that loved and supported each other. Why had Virgil expected anything different?

“Oh!” Core Creativity called suddenly, cutting himself off in the middle of his sentence. “Thomas is calling us!”

Virgil looked back around the corner again, and saw everyone rising to their feet, like Thomas calling them was just something that happened on a regular Tuesday.

…Holy shit, it probably was.

Virgil watched them open a white door on the wall across the room, and all of them headed through it towards Thomas.

Virgil ran into the room as soon as they all left it and opened the door himself, and through it, suddenly, was Thomas. He was sitting on his bed in his room, and Virgil took a moment just to look at him.

He was wonderful. He looked nervous about something, which was probably Virgil’s fault, but he was also smiling, and he looked up at the other sides with pleasantness in his expression, like he wanted to see them.

Virgil shook himself. That wasn’t what he was going to get, he needed to remember that. Sure enough, when he listened to the voices on the other side of the door, he heard Thomas speaking.

“I’ve just been feeling a little more anxious than usual lately. Is something going on? Are you guys okay?”

Virgil took a breath. That was his cue if he ever heard one. He took a breath and disappeared, reappearing on the other side of the door and right in front of Thomas.

Four cries of surprise sounded, and all of them turned to look directly at him.

Virgil smiled, and he was pretty sure it came off way less friendly than he intended. He was anxious, sue him. Either way, though, he looked directly at Thomas and prepared himself to say hello to his center.

“Sup.”

#sanders sides #teenage sides #virgil sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #wrath sanders #my fic

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crystalninjaphoenix · 3 years ago

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Puzzles & Pleas

A JSE Fanfic

A new part whoooo! As I’m writing this description I’m very tired so I’m not sure what to say. We’re basically following up directly from the last part, like literally only a few hours later. Chase and Marvin are having a nice visit with Jack, and at the exact same time, their other three friends are having a variety of bad times with Anti. Fun fun fun! Well, not for the characters, but probably for us. Enjoy :)

You can find the other stories under the pw timeline tag!

“You look nervous.”

“I’m not.”

“I mean, it’s understandable if you are—”

“I’m not fucking nervous, Chase.”

The elevator doors opened, forcibly stopping the brief exchange. Chase stepped out onto the third floor, glancing back over his shoulder at Marvin. “Well, if you were, I was just gonna say it’s okay to be. Now c’mon.”

Marvin hesitated. Despite what his protests would indicate, he did look rather anxious. He kept twisting the edge of his shirt around. But he took a moment to steady himself and followed Chase out of the elevator, saying nothing.

“It’s just the same room,” Chase said, gesturing down the hospital hallway. “Let’s go.”

They walked in silence for a while, passing by closed doors, each with a room beyond. Chase kept looking back towards Marvin. This would probably be the first time he’d left his house in a couple weeks, something that Chase knew from experience wasn’t good for your health. Marvin looked fine, physically. His hair was combed and pulled back in a ponytail, his shirt and pants neat. But he just seemed...not as energetic. If that made sense. Hopefully, this would be good for him.

They soon reached the room they were looking for. Chase was about to knock on the door when Marvin suddenly asked, “Do you think he’ll be mad at me?”

Chase blinked. Then laughed, in an effort to lighten the mood. “Why would he be mad at you?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I hardly ever went to visit him.” Marvin continued to twist the hem of his shirt. “A-and I haven’t seen him at all since he woke up.”

“Marv. Trust me. Jack wouldn’t be mad at you for something like that.” Chase instinctively went to pat him on the back, but Marvin leaned away, so he dropped it and settled for a reassuring smile. “He’s not that type of guy.”

“Would he be...disappointed?” Marvin asked tentatively.”I-I don’t want to make him feel bad, he probably has enough to deal with—”

“It’s going to be alright, Marvin. Jack knows you didn’t mean to hurt him by not visiting. And besides, you’re visiting now, aren’t you? So it all works out.” Chase waited for Marvin to say more, but he just nodded, breathing out slowly. “Alright, we’re gonna go in now, okay?” Marvin nodded again, and Chase knocked on the door before slowly opening it. “Hello? It’s me.”

Jack turned to look towards the door. The moment he saw Chase, he smiled, and reached to the side and adjusted the controls of the bed to a sitting position. “Hii Shhays.”

“Hey bro. Look, I brought a friend.” Chase stepped into the room, allowing Marvin to take his place in the doorway.

Marvin froze for a moment. He stared at Jack, taking in the bed, the wires, the oxygen tube. Then he waved. “Um...hi.”

“Mahfin!” Jack grinned even wider. “‘S good t’see yuh!” He waved Marvin over.

“Ha. Y-yeah, good to see you, too.” Marvin stepped inside. “Oh, uh, d’you want this open?”

“S’fffine.”

“Alright, then.” He closed the door.

“Hey, c’mon, Marv, sit down.” Chase walked over to the side of the bed, indicating one of the nearby chairs. “Get comfy in the plastic hospital chair.”

Marvin laughed, and followed Chase over to the bed. They both sat, and Jack leaned over to pick up his communication board from the nearby table. He pointed to the How are you? box.

“Eh. We’re alright, I guess,” Chase said, glancing at Marvin.

“I...well, I’ve been...” Marvin stopped, the words getting caught in his throat. “It’s fine, though. Probably nothing compared to what you’re going through.”

Jack frowned. It was a small, awkward gesture, something his facial muscles were still having trouble with. He indicated the I don’t think so box.

“What’s that s’posed to mean?” Marvin asked, confused.

“It means he’s doubting you,” Chase explained. Jack nodded.

“Well, I mean...it’s fine,” Marvin said slowly. “Honestly, I’d rather talk about you. Like, how are you doing? What are you doing? It can’t be too fun being stuck in here.”

Jack still looked unsure, but he shook his head, and tapped a box labeled I agree.

“You’ve got a TV in here now, though,” Chase said, pointing to the corner. A big box television sat on top of a wheeled cart. “It looks like the ones they used to bring into classrooms in elementary school, y’know?”

Marvin and Jack just stared at him. “I think that’s an American thing,” Marvin said. “Or at least, something that wasn’t common where we were from.”

“Ah. Well, they did it all the time. A couple classrooms had them bottled to the ceilings in the corner and you watched movies on it, but you were always too far away to see it properly.” Chase laughed a bit. “But still, there’s probably only so much TV you can take.”

Jack groaned, rolling his eyes. He emphatically tapped the I agree box.

Marvin smiled a bit. “Well, don’t you have hospital stuff to do? Like, examinations and shit?”

Jack pointed to the Yes box. “Therrs...th’rapy. Lotta it.”

“Yeah, like speech therapy, physical therapy, probably a million other kinds.” Chase nodded. “Oh, speaking of which, you sound much better! Good job, bro.”

“Thnkss.” Jack smiled a bit.

“Y’know, I did some, uh...I don’t know if it was physical therapy exactly, but I did some exercises as a kid,” Marvin recalled. “Because I was severely uncoordinated. Tripped over my own feet to the point Grandmam was worried about it.” He paused. “I don’t know what I mean by that. I guess I’m just saying I relate a bit. It’s probably not the same thing, though.”

“Nnoh, ‘sfine,” Jack assured him. “I geddid. Ah.” He made a face. “I. Get. It.”

“Good, then.” For a moment, there was just silence. It stretched long enough to get awkward, and just when Chase was about to change the subject, Marvin blurted out, “I’m sorry I never came to see you, Jack.”

Jack blinked. “Hm?”

“Well I did but—it wasn’t that often. A-and not since you woke up, and I’m really sorry about it, it’s just—I’ve been having...a...moment.” Marvin clenched his fists as he tried to find the words. Sign language wouldn’t work here; Jack couldn’t understand it. So he was stuck with verbal speech. Not always his strong suit. “You know, when you have...a moment? When it’s hard to do anything because you...don’t...really...feel like anything?” Chase nodded encouragingly, and Marvin took a deep breath. “It’s not because I didn’t want to come see you. I really did, I-I’m really happy you’re awake again! It’s just...my fault. I put it off for so long, and then I got nervous about it, like, that it would be weird to suddenly show up and start talking like nothing had happened—I-I do that a lot, y’know, that’s why I don’t really talk to anyone besides you guys—and it’s not you, it’s me, and I’m sorry.” He finished with a rush and then stopped, waiting, his posture stiff and tense.

Jack was quiet for a moment. Then, he leaned closer, reaching out and putting a hand on top of Marvin’s own. “Mahfin...Mmmahrf...Marrrfvin.” For a moment, he looked frustrated at his inability to pronounce his friend’s name properly, but then he took a deep breath, and moved on. “Mahrfin. ‘S not...yoh fahlt. Thin’s happen. ‘S alright. ‘M happy t’see yuh—yyou. Yohr herre now. An’ tha’s what’s...i-im....important.” And he smiled.

Marvin’s face swelled with a mix of emotions. Relief, hesitancy, joy. It brought tears to his eyes. “You’re sure?”

“Yeh. O’courrrse.”

“I...good. That’s...good.” Marvin wiped his eyes. “Y’know...if you’re having trouble, you could just call me Muffin or something, for the time being.”

Jack laughed. “Shurr, Maffin.”

The moment was interrupted by a faint buzzing sound. Chase jumped a bit, feeling something vibrate in his pocket. “Oh, uh, sorry guys.” He took out his phone, face turning red with embarrassment as the other two watched him. “I didn’t think anyone would be calling me.” He glanced at the screen. “Huh. I don’t recognize the number.”

“It’s probably spam,” Marvin dismissed.

“Maybe. Or it could be important. Like, the kids are in school now, what if their teacher’s calling?” Chase hesitated. “I’ll just—just see if it is spam, really quick.” He tapped the Accept button and pressed the phone to his ear. “Hello? Who’s this?”

——————

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. Something was squeezing his chest, his lungs—something was inside him, it was—no, no it wasn’t. This was panic. That had to be the explanation. He had to calm down, and—and do...something.

Schneep had woken up a few minutes ago. It took him a while to remember what happened before that. How someone had been in his room. No...not just someone. He knew—it was him, it was—there was no escape, there had never been any escape—

Okay. Calm down. Breathe. Focus on the facts. He was lying on the floor. In a strange room that he didn’t recognize. Near the wall. And he wasn’t alone. But he couldn’t focus on that fact now, it just made it hard to breathe again, thinking about being watched, being stared at, being—stop. Calm. Breathe.

Maybe if he looked around, it would help. But there wasn’t much to see in the room. The walls were dark gray, the floor was rough white carpet. There was a circular black rug in the middle. And a window with blinds. Besides those features, the only thing of note in the room was...a desk. And its chair, with someone sitting in it. But he didn’t want to look towards that. What about...the window? Was there anything outside?

He hesitated, and briefly glanced back towards the desk. It looked like the chair’s occupant was busy, attention fully focused on the computer monitors on the desk’s surface. But he knew he was still being watched. Perhaps...if he moved slowly, then it wouldn’t be too strange? It would be natural?

Deciding that was worth a shot, Schneep cautiously sat up. His head was still a bit dizzy, and heavy, too. He grimaced, then glanced out the window. The glass was a bit dirty, and looked unusually...thick, if that made sense. Outside, he could see a street corner, and houses. This room was in a house like that, then? And it was at an intersection, with a pair of street signs marking the roads that crossed here. Unfortunately, he couldn’t make out the street names this far away without his glasses. But one of them had some graffiti on it, a spray-painted square with a diamond inside it, and a black dot inside that. It might’ve been more elaborate than that, but again, he couldn’t quite make out the details.

“I see you.”

Schneep yelped, pressing against the wall as he turned to look towards the desk. Anti. He’d turned around in his desk chair and was staring at him now. Staring with those mismatched eyes that haunted his nightmares.

“Enjoying the view?” Anti nodded towards the window. “Sorry, not much to see. Nothing particularly helpful. Especially since you can’t read the street signs from this distance without your glasses.”

He knew what he was thinking?! Was he in his head again?! Schneep squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head, and opened them again. No, that wasn’t true. Anti was human, he’d never read his mind, humans couldn’t do that.

“What? Do you think you’re safe up here?” Anti tapped the side of his head and grinned. “Don’t be so sure. You’re so easy to—”

“Shut up, you are lying,” Schneep interrupted. “You—you cannot do that anymore. I know it’s a trick.”

“You don’t know anything,” Anti said, still grinning. “Because I’ve been watching you. I know you’ve heard me. And I know you’ve told others about me. Don’t you remember what I said about that? The more people know about me, the stronger I become.”

“That is more lies,” Schneep insisted, pressing his back to the wall.

“I’ve never lied to you. And I’m not about to start now. I’ve been watching you. I know you’ve seen my shadow in the corners, and my eyes in the ceilings.”

“How do you know about that?!” Schneep shrieked.

“Because I sent them, of course. To keep an eye on you, make sure you didn’t break any rules.” Anti sighed dramatically and shook his head. “I hoped it wouldn’t be needed, but I thought, better safe than sorry. And it turns out I was right.”

Schneep pressed his hands to his ears, trying to block out Anti’s words. They had to be lies. He knew that Anti wasn’t some supernatural creature, he was just a man. Anti had to be guessing about the things he saw. Though...how did he guess about the eyes in the ceilings? Schneep couldn’t remember telling him about them, and that had to be a fairly specific hallucination. Maybe he really...? No, there had to be another explanation.

Anti laughed, and Schneep flinched at the sound. His eyes darted around the room once more. There was a door, but it was on the other side of the room, and he was willing to bet it was locked. Same with the window. He could try to break the window, but there was nothing to break it with. Unless he wanted to try and grab one of the computer monitors and throw it through the glass, but he knew he’d be overpowered if he tried.

“That’s right, you’ve got no way out,” Anti said, leaning back. “You’re lucky I haven’t tied you to a chair or anything. The only reason I haven’t done that is because you know it’s hopeless, anyway. Unlike certain others...wearing red jackets.”

Schneep felt a chill pass over him. Jackie. Of course. Anti still had him captive. “I-it’s different, now,” Schneep protested weakly. “They know about you, a-and me, and that we are not the same. They will be trying to rescue me this time.”

“Probably,” Anti admitted. He grabbed something off the desk and stood up, approaching. Schneep’s eyes widened, and he pressed further into the wall, pulling his legs and arms close. “That is, they’ll be trying a search and rescue as long as they think I’m involved.” Anti stopped, standing over Schneep, and leaned down. “So here’s what’s going to happen.” He showed him the thing he’d grabbed from the desk: a phone. “You’re going to call the lovely Dr. Laurens and tell her you left on your own.”

“What...wh-why would I do that?” Schneep stammered.

“Because you got scared. Because you didn’t feel safe in that hospital. Because you told her you saw Anti in the hospital rec room, and you think that he’s real, and that he can come after you.” Anti smiled. “It’s built on truth, isn’t it? Because you told her you saw me, didn’t you?”

Schneep stared at him in disbelief. He had told Laurens about seeing Anti in the rec room. At the time, he thought it was just him seeing things, but...had it been real? The whole time? And how did Anti know he’d told Laurens about that?

Because he hears your thoughts. He can twist them to control you.

No! No, that wasn’t real. But...the idea still lingered.

“What are you waiting for?” Anti held out the phone, staring at him. Staring, staring, staring. Always staring.

Schneep swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. “..okay. I will call her.”

Anti didn’t say anything as he took the phone, still watching him as he dialed the phone number. Schneep tried not to think about it too much as he held the phone to his ear and listened to the call connect.

The other end rang for a long time, and Schneep swiftly grew afraid that nobody would pick up. But just when he thought it would hang up, the ringing stopped. “Hello? Who’s this?”

“Um. Hello.” Schneep reminded himself to breathe. “It’s me, it is—well, you can probably tell by the voice.” The voice that was shaking quite a bit.

“What the f—Schneep?!” The voice on the other end shouted in disbelief. “Why are you calling me?! No, wait, how are you calling me? I thought you weren’t allowed to have a phone there.”

“No, I—there is—something has happened,” Schneep said carefully. “I-I am not at Silver Hills anymore.”

“Well then where the hell are you?!”

“I am...I am somewhere...else,” Schneep said slowly.

“Yeah, where?”

Anti narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Get to the point,” he hissed.

Schneep froze for a moment. He needed to speak freely. “It’s because of—of him,” he said carefully. “You know who I mean, yes?”

“You mean...Anti?” The other end went silent for a minute. “Schneep where are you? Can you tell me, give me a clue or something? I-I’ll call the police, but if you could tell me anything—”

Anti frowned. “Put it on speaker,” he said.

Schneep’s heart sank. Impossible. Anti would immediately know that he hadn’t called the right person. He had to do something drastic. “Er ist es, er hat mich mitgenommen,” he said, speaking quickly. “Ich weiß nicht wo ich bin.” Anti’s eyes widened, and he lunged forward. Schneep cried out, and rolled to the side, just avoiding him. “Ich weiß nicht wo ich bin! Ein Haus an einer Straßenecke—Ich kenne die Straßennamen nicht! Das Schild hat Graffiti, es ist ein Kreis in einem Diamanten in einem Quadrat—”

“You little—!” Anti grabbed Schneep’s wrist and twisted the phone out of his hand.

“Bitte komm—!” Schneep didn’t manage to get the rest of the sentence out before—

Smack!

He fell to the side, half of his face suddenly alight in pain. For a moment, he was too dazed to respond properly. Then Anti grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him upward. He instantly started struggling.

“You worthless little fucker,” Anti hissed, grabbing a handful of Schneep’s hair and pulling his head backwards. “Can’t believe you did that. Fuck. You deserved that. Your friend’s gonna have worse for that stunt you just pulled.”

“N-no!” Schneep gasped. “Leave him alone!”

“No, you know the rules. You know how this works.” Anti glared at him. “You’ve just gotten cocky. So you need a reminder.”

Schneep felt a tear trickle from his eye. He hoped that call was worth it.

——————

“Schneep?! Henrik?! Are you there?!” Chase shouted into the phone, but got no response. There’d been a rustling sound, like a struggle, then Schneep had shouted, and then there was—there was another sound, a sound he’d most often heard when his kids would fight each other, and he had to scold them. That sound was a lot more sinister in this context. Especially considering the call had apparently dropped after it. “Fuck!”

“What happened?!” Marvin asked, shaken by the half of the conversation he’d heard. “Was that really—?”

“H-hang on, I’m gonna call his doctor first,” Chase said. He hurried to dial the number for Dr. Laurens, misdialing at first because of his rush and entering it a second time.

The call was picked up surprisingly quickly. “Chase? Is that you?” Laurens’s voice came through loud and clear.

“Yeah, it’s me. Listen doc, is...is Schneep okay?” Chase didn’t know how else to ask.

“Is he—oh, Chase,” Laurens said softly. “I was just about to call you. We...we don’t know where he is.”

“You...don’t know where he is?” Chase repeated, feeling the bottom of his stomach dropping out. He heard Marvin gasp, and saw him squeeze Jack’s hand, who was now sitting up as straight as he could. “What do you mean?”

“He never showed up to dinner. When Oliver went to check on his room, he wasn’t there. We’ve been searching the building and the grounds, but he’s nowhere to be seen. I thought—since you’re his friend, a-and his emergency contact—wait a minute.” Laurens stopped, realizing something. “Why are you asking?”

“Because he just called me,” Chase explained. “From some number I didn’t recognize. He said that—he said that Anti took him.”

“Shit,” Laurens cursed. “Chase, I need you to hang up right now and call the police. We’ll keep searching the nearby area, just in case. I-I’ll call you if we find him.”

“Y-yeah. Okay. And I’ll call you again after I talk to the cops.”

“Great. Go do that.”

“I’m doing it. Talk to you later.” Chase hung up.

“So he just disappeared?!” Marvin whispered harshly. “Just—just like that night.” He glanced over at Jack.

“Wh’s happennin’?” Jack asked, his features drawn.

“You guys heard that call, right? Henrik called me, h-he was speaking...haltingly, I think, with a lot of pauses, I think that’s the word.” Chase squeezed his phone case. “Then he freaked out and started shouting in German—I bet because Anti can’t speak it.”

“What did he say?!” Marvin demanded.

“I don’t know all of it, it’s been a while since I—give me a second.” Chase opened up a translation app on his phone and quickly typed in a few words, trying his best to match the spelling of the things he thought Schneep had said. He had to fill in the gaps. “Okay. He said that Anti took him, and that he didn’t know where it was, but it was a house on a street corner. He couldn’t see the street names, but mentioned some sort of like...graffiti? On the sign? A circle in a diamond in a square.”

Jack’s head shot upward, and he cried out.

“What?! What is it?!” Marvin leaned forward, checking all the wires and monitors.

“Nn—noh that!” Jack clumsily pushed him back. “That sss...ssymmbel. Know it.”

“Wh—you recognize the symbol?!” Chase repeated in disbelief. “Square-diamond-circle?!”

Jack nodded. “H-he...fffakes. Th’ fakes, th’ one...prtendinn tuh be yuh two. I...rmemmber now.”

“Huh?” Marvin asked, utterly confused.

“Right, you don’t know,” Chase realized. “Jack, he—he’s said some stuff about fake versions of us visiting him. Anti, in disguise. I-I know, I ran into him pretending to be you one time, and I heard about an imposter me from Dr. Emerson another time. Apparently Anti talked to him, said some freaky stuff.” He gasped. “You mean—he told you about this symbol?”

“Symmbl. Symbel to...to haf others recogniss him.” Jack pressed his hands to his forehead and leaned forward. “Put outssside...places he...h-has? I don’...don’ rmemrrr.” He fell silent, squeezing his eyes shut. “On a sighhn...steet signnn...ffahk. Fahk!”

“I’m gonna call the police,” Chase said, already dialing 999. “I’m gonna tell them everything, a-and meanwhile, try to remember anything else.”

Jack nodded, eyes still shut. Marvin squeezed his shoulder, an anchor to the physical world. He could hear Chase’s voice relaying what happened over the phone, but the words were indistinct as he tried to concentrate on his memory. Everything was all mixed up and blurred. None of it made sense most of the time. He remembered hearing voices, but he wasn’t sure when it was Chase, when it was this Anti, or when it was just a dream. But he’d definitely heard that description of a symbol before. When...when had he...when...when......?

——————

......

...

“It’s a calling card. Or a warning, if you want to think of it that way...simplified version of my...”

...

The man had no eyes. Or maybe he was just missing one eye. A blank, dark spot in the middle of a white face. He looked like a friend, but that dark spot was wrong. It told him it was a lie.

“Most people don’t know what it means exactly, only that it’s trouble. The area...claimed.”

And the voice was wrong. It...it sounded a bit like his own, actually? Was this...him?

Was that why he couldn’t move? Why he couldn’t look away?

“...outside safe houses, where I store my...and other equipment. They’re also secondary bases. Just in case...never know in this line of work. I don’t want...caught. Living...prison...just be the worst. You have no control.”

The man was smiling. His teeth stretched...his skin was melting. He—he couldn’t understand. What was happening? Who...was this man...? Was he him? Who are you? Who am I? Are we the same? I can’t understand. Something...something is broken up here. My thoughts...they’re scattering. Like throwing paper in a bowl of water, watching it soak it up, then stirring violently. Everything came apart.

“I’m never going to let anyone control me. No. I am in control. Everyone else...my little puppets. I like watching the shows.”

The white ceiling and walls were burning his eyes. It was curving, like a bubble. They were in a bubble. He was floating. He couldn’t feel anything.

“...times I worry about you telling people. But then I—” Laugh. Laugh. Laugh. “I remember you’re a veggie. People rarely wake...after something so severe. So...doesn’t matter. Maybe you can hear me. Maybe you can’t. Doesn’t...”

Green line. Up and down. Up and down. Crossing the man’s face. Cutting him in half.

“Why am I even doing this?”

Green light. Everything is green.

“I don’t even know. It’s a waste of time, a waste of resources, and a risk. Maybe...need it? I’ve never talked so freely. Not even to Jamie. He...a kid, you know. Always will be.”

Light is gone. Everything is black.

“...it doesn’t really matter what I say. I can tell you about the marks outside the houses. Ha. Hell, I can even tell you where they are. Like, for example, on the corner of—”

——————

Jack’s eyes flew open. “Ah!”

“Wh—?!” Marvin jumped a bit. “Jack?”

“Th’ steet! Strreet! Is—is—” Now the problem was just getting his mouth to form the sounds properly. “Ay...airrr...loom.”

Marvin blinked. “Air loom?”

“Hhay. Hhhhair loom.”

“Oh, heirloom? I don’t know that street, uh...” Marvin turned to look at Chase. “Did you catch that?”

Chase nodded in response, still on the phone, then returned to his conversation with the emergency line. “Um—maybe try on one of the corners of Heirloom Drive? My friend thinks that might be it.” A brief pause. “Uh, I don’t know.” And he looked over at Jack, pulling the phone away a bit. “Hey bro, do you...remember the other street? It’s at an intersection, right?”

Jack closed his eyes again. But this time, the memory wouldn’t even come to him. “No.”

“That’s fine.” Chase returned to the phone. “My friend doesn’t know, but on the phone call he said—my other friend—said that there was some sort of graffiti on the sign, that was a uhh square around a diamond around a circle. That probably helps right?” He paused. “No, I don’t think he’d see them. He’s near-sighted, and I don’t think he has his glasses. That probably means that the graffiti description is pretty vague, but it’s an idea.” Another pause. “Yeah, that’s it. Oh, wait, uh...I think Detective Nix was involved in this case? Can you tell him?” And another. “Yeah, his name’s Henrik.” And one last, long pause. “Alright, thank you ma’am. I’ll wait.” And he hung up, letting out a long exhale.

“It—it’s going to be fine, right?” Marvin asked anxiously. “They’ll find him?”

“It might take a while, but I think so,” Chase replied. “God...Hey, uh, Jack? You’re sure about this?”

Jack thought about it, then nodded slowly, head bobbing. That memory was a bit weird, but Dr. Emerson told him it was common to have dream-like memories, with everything that had happened to him. He was confident that the conversation was real. He couldn’t forget the times Anti came to visit, just because of how deeply unnerving his words always were.

“Alright. Well, they’re going to call me to update me on what happens,” Chase said. “Uh...not sure how long this’ll take. Visiting hours might end before they sort everything out.”

“Mm.” Jack shrugged. He picked up the communication board again—he’d just done a lot of talking, and needed a moment—and pointed to the I’m okay box.

“You sure?”

Yes box.

“Well we’re not leaving until they kick us out,” Marvin asserted, folding his arms. “If they call us back, you need to hear it. You just helped out a fuckton.”

Jack smiled, a bit lopsidedly. Thank you box.

Chase laughed, but it quickly faded. He looked down at the phone in his hand, already anticipating the call. “I guess...we just wait now.”

——————

There were footsteps passing by outside the room. At first, Jameson had tensed, waiting for the door to open and Anti to walk inside. But that didn’t happen. They just kept passing back and forth. You hear those, right? JJ asked.

Jackie didn’t respond, so JJ looked back over at him. He was lying on the bottom bed of the bunk and staring up, eyes glazed. Something he’d been doing quite a lot, JJ noticed. When he asked about it, Jackie always said he was daydreaming, which would be fine normally, but JJ was pretty sure that he was doing it too much. Well, he couldn’t blame him. But still, it would be nice if Jackie would look at him when he was signing.

Jameson walked over and, after a moment’s hesitation, shook Jackie’s shoulder. He blinked, made an odd gesture like he was asking someone to wait, then looked at JJ. “What?”

Have you been hearing the footsteps outside? JJ asked.

“Huh? Oh, uh, sorry. No. I wasn’t really paying attention,” Jackie admitted. “What do they sound like?”

Like someone’s running up and down a hallway outside, JJ described.

“Really? Well...I mean, I can’t really think of anyone but Anti who’d be doing that.” Jackie’s face scrunched up in thought. “Maybe he’s...doing something? I dunno. Running, though...it must be important.”

Jameson frowned. That was a good point, why would Anti be running about? I’m going to try to look outside, he said, walking over to the door.

“Look outside?” Jackie sat up, turning so he was on the edge of the bed. “You mean, through the gap?”

JJ nodded. He got down on his hands and knees and pressed his head to the floor, peering through the gap under the door. Nothing much to see. He got to his knees and was about to stand up...when he heard the footsteps again. Wanting to see what happened as they passed by the door, he quickly peered through the gap between the door and the doorframe. The steps were approaching—

Then the door slammed open, directly into Jameson’s face. He cried out as he fell, clasping his hands to his face.

“Oh my god, Jamie?! I’m so sorry!” Anti covered his mouth, staring down at him in shock. “It was an accident, I didn’t expect you to—are you okay?!”

Jameson didn’t answer. His face was in pain, and his nose in particular was throbbing. He pulled one hand away and saw it covered in blood, felt it trickling from his nostrils and soaking into his mustache.

“Shit. Fuck! I-it’ll be fine, I can—i-is it broken?” Anti bent over, grabbing Jameson’s head and trying to inspect the damage. But Jameson pulled away, waving at him to get back. “Hey, I just—okay, fine. This isn’t the time. We can look at it later.” Anti took his phone out of his pocket and checked the clock. “We need to go.”

Go? Did he say go? As in, they were leaving? Jameson stood up, keeping one hand on his face, trying and failing to stop the bleeding from getting everywhere. Why did they have to leave? More importantly, why was Anti trying to move the two of them? Unless...something happened that meant he had to move them. Like...the police coming. At that thought, Jameson started backing away.

“Jamie, this isn’t a joke, we need to leave now.” Anti insisted.

Jameson shook his head. He glanced over his shoulder at Jackie. Judging by the wide-eyed expression on his face, he’d come to the same conclusion as him. It was strange to see the glimmer of hope in his eyes. And that thought made Jameson’s heart hurt.

“Are you going to—?! Fuck, I don’t have time for this.” Anti rubbed his eyes, then adjusted the strap of the bag hanging off his shoulder. He stared at Jameson for a moment. Then followed his line of sight over to Jackie. For a moment, he hesitated, thinking about something. And then he made a decision. “Okay, fine.” Anti pushed past Jameson, reaching into his bag as he did so. He grabbed Jackie, yanking him upwards to a standing position, and pressed a knife to his neck.

Jameson gasped. “A-an!”

“I’m going to kill him,” Anti said calmly. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I can’t handle three of you after all. And he’s the most useless.”

“A...aan.” Jameson shook his head slowly. He didn’t dare to take a step forward. Jackie had looked terrified when Anti grabbed him, but the moment he said he was going to kill him, all emotion seemed to drain out of him. Now he was slumped, eyes blank, not there at all. Please, Jameson simply signed.

Anti looked him in the eyes. “The only way you can convince me not to is if you come with me right now.”

Oh.

So...that was the plan.

Jameson wasn’t sure why he wasn’t more shocked. No...no, actually, he knew why. But somehow, it surprised him to feel this lack of...well, surprise.

But in any case, he couldn’t let Jackie die. Alright, he signed slowly. I’ll go with you.

“Good. Follow me.”

Anti walked out of the room, right through the door, and Jameson followed behind him, quietly. He tried to catch Jackie’s eye, but Jackie wasn’t paying attention to anything at all. He just let Anti pull him along with the blade at his throat.

They went down a hallway and arrived in another, which they then walked down to arrive at a door. Anti pushed it open with his shoulder, and then they were in a small backyard, hardly more than a strip of grass. Jameson glanced at the neighboring houses, but they looked empty. But...maybe someone could see them? Maybe someone would call the police, if they hadn’t already been called.

There was a car parked in the gap between their house and one of the neighbors. It didn’t have anything distinct about it, a simple, gray, four-door car. But the trunk was a bit open. Jameson caught a glimpse of some sort of suitcase—maybe multiple suitcases—before Anti kicked the lid closed. “Stupid boot,” he muttered. “Jameson, get in the passenger side. Leave the door open.”

Well, he didn’t have much of a choice, did he? Jameson walked around to the passenger side and got in, sitting stiffly on the edge of the seat. He wiped his face, clearing up blood from his nosebleed.

“Good.” Anti nodded once. He then shifted his knife to his other hand, still keeping it pointed at Jackie, and used his other to rummage around in his bag until he pulled out a small bottle. He popped the lid open. “Hold out your hand.” When Jameson did, Anti shook a few small pills out of the bottle and into his palm. “Swallow three of those.”

That was the part that got Jameson to finally say something. Or, try to, at least. “A-annn? Yuh...c-c-cannn’...beee sss—”

“Don’t do this, Jamie,” Anti said through gritted teeth. “I know what you’re trying to do. Just eat them, okay?” He put the bottle back in his bag and switched the knife between hands again. He pressed it firmly into Jackie’s neck, causing a drop of blood to trickle down from where the blade met skin.

Jameson nodded, and hurriedly threw the pills in his mouth. Anti watched him closely, making sure they were eventually swallowed. “Good,” he said again. Then he closed the car door. Immediately, Jameson heard the clunk of the lock. He was expecting that...but he wasn’t expecting Anti to walk back towards the back door they’d come from, taking Jackie with him.

“Hhh—!” Jameson pressed his face and hands to the window. “Aaaan! N-nuh!” He banged a fist against the glass. “Nnnuh! Nn—n-n-no!” He screamed. But Anti didn’t even look towards him as he disappeared back into the house with Jackie.

He tried pulling at the door, but of course, found it useless. And looking around the inside showed there wasn’t a way to open the car from the inside. That was probably a safety hazard, but Jameson was willing to bet that Anti had the car modified. He spun around in his seat, looking for anything that would be of help in the back. But there was nothing. Except for...a man. Asleep, sitting in the back seat. Pale skin and brown hair, with a yellow-purple bruise forming on his cheek. Jameson was confused for a moment, until he noticed the plastic medical bracelet around the man’s wrist and remembered. That was Henrik, wasn’t it? Schneep? He hadn’t recognized him. Of course, they’d only met once, and Schneep had spent most of it freaking out, thinking that Jameson was Anti. He looked unharmed, but he was clearly unconscious, and therefore couldn’t help them get out of the car.

Frustrated, Jameson started kicking at the door, leaning back to build up as much force as possible. He tried hitting the window. But it felt as solid as the actual door. This went on for a few moments, until he saw the back door opening again. And Anti came back outside. Alone.

That made him stop, fear shooting through his heart.

Soon, Anti sat down in the driver’s seat. “Alright, finally,” he said under his breath, glancing up at the dark, early-night sky. “We’ve wasted enough time—”

Smack!

Anti was too surprised to even cry out as Jameson’s fist connected with enough force to whip his head to the side. “Y—you just—” He pressed his hand to his cheek and looked at Jameson in disbelief. “Jamie, you hit me.”

Don’t fucking call me that! Jameson threw his hands in Anti’s face, almost hitting him again. Not after all that! You don’t deserve it! You’re the most horrible person I know!

Anti glanced back towards the house. “He’s not dead.”

Well I don’t trust a word you say!

“Just...” Anti sighed, and rubbed his cheek. “Just go to sleep and be quiet, Jameson.”

Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Jameson seethed. You’d like to have a perfect, quiet, naive kid brother that you can protect and therefore feel good about yourself for once. Well he doesn’t exist. Not one of those words describes me. Jameson turned away. Don’t ever call me your brother again. You make me sick.

Anti didn’t say anything in response, and Jameson refused to even look at him. The car started, then pulled out of the driveway and onto the street.

As the house on the corner faded into the distance, Jameson’s anger lessened, overtaken by the fear and all-consuming worry he’d felt before. He could only hope that Anti wasn’t lying about Jackie. And he didn’t like that. He didn’t like relying on this...person for anything. But, unfortunately, he was at his mercy for the time being.

He had to find a way out. Not now, though. He could already feel the sleeping pills starting to take effect. But as Jameson closed his eyes, he swore that he wouldn’t let Anti be in control of anyone ever again.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #jacksepticeye au #septic egos au #chase brody #marvin the magnificent #antisepticeye #dr schneeplestein #jameson jackson #jackieboy man #brigid writes fanfiction #pwtimeline

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bluesfortheredj · 4 years ago

Text

Let your worries float away.

Smut ahead.

Lockdown had been tough on everyone; mentally, physically, and everything in between. It was tough not seeing family, it was tough not seeing friends, and it was really tough not being able to see the person you’d fallen for just before the world decided to go to shit face to face. Ben was everything you could have wanted, he was funny, kind, big hearted, compassionate, very handsome, and now you could only see him in real time through a computer or phone screen. You tried to look on the bright side; you were getting to know each other on a much deeper level than you probably would have if you had continued to meet up in person, but it was also torture when all you wanted to do was hold his hand or slide your arms around his body for a cuddle.

“I really miss you,” he admits out of the blue as soon as your next video call starts on one particularly rough day, “I know it sounds silly, but I wish I could hold you.”

You stare into those beautiful green orbs that shone so brightly when he was sitting on his bed facing the window, “I really miss you too, and it doesn’t sound silly at all. I wish I was in your arms right now.”

“I just…” he pauses to sigh and looks away from the camera for a moment before returning his gaze to the phone, “I know that you’re the one I want to be with. I’ve never opened up to anyone like I have done with you, and it’s not even because of the situation we’re in, I just feel like I can talk to you about anything.”

“I feel the same,” you smile, your face beginning to feel hotter by the second.

“Shit, this is so frustrating,” he chuckles softly, “I really want to touch you… hug you… be near you!”

You giggle quietly, “hopefully it won’t be too long until we can see one another.”

“Wait… are you watching the news?” he asks, his eyes flicking from the phone to the TV behind it as a smile begins to spread across his lips, “oh my god, it won’t be long until we can see each other!”

“What do you mean?! I haven’t got the telly on!”

“Bubbles!” Ben laughs triumphantly, “we’re allowed to mix in bubbles!”

“What on earth are you on about?”

“You can create a ‘support bubble’ with another household… so… will you be my bubble?”

“Don’t you want to see your family?!”

“I want to see you,” he says sincerely as he stares directly into the camera, “and we don’t have to social distance if it’s just us we see.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! Everyone else I know has someone with them, including family, and we’re both alone, so why not?”

“You make a good point… my mum and dad are together and they are quite far away so making a support bubble with them wouldn’t be as easy...” you pause as you think about it carefully, and you know that soon enough you would be able to see them anyway if restrictions were being eased now, “okay, let’s do it.”

“You have no idea how happy you’ve made me,” he sighs with relief as he drags his hand down from his forehead to his chin, “this couldn’t have come at a better time.”

You rest your head on your hand as you look at the screen and his giddy expression that fills the space, and your stomach flutters at the thought of seeing him in the flesh again. Things seemed to have gotten quite serious between the two of you over the last couple of months even though you couldn’t physically be together and you were hoping these feelings wouldn’t fade once you met again.

The day soon came around; you’d only had to wait a week for these new measures to be put into place and it had gone surprisingly fast which was both good and bad with how anxious you were feeling about him turning up on your doorstep after such a long time apart. The knock at your door made you jump even though you were expecting it, and you practically run to the door yet hesitate when it comes to opening it.

“Hi,” Ben grins breathlessly after having taken the stairs two at a time to get to your flat.

“Hi,” you reply shyly as you run your fingers along the door handle nervously and step aside for him to enter.

“This is weird… being in someone else’s place, I mean… it’s been so long.”

“Yeah, it’s strange having someone enter the flat,” you chuckle as you close the door behind him.

“Can I hug you? I promise I haven’t got it… well, not that I know of, but I-”

You cut him off mid sentence as you throw your body against his and wrap your arms around him tightly, and he laughs as he returns the embrace, burying his face in your neck as he revels in the much needed human contact, especially from you. This was a special moment for both of you; it had been months since you were able to touch anyone else, and the fact that the first contact with another human being was with each other only cemented your relationship.

“I don’t want to let you go,” Ben mumbles into your hair.

“Are you just saying that because I’m the first person you’ve hugged since lockdown?” you laugh.

“No!” he protests, pulling away slightly so he can see your face, “I’m saying it because I genuinely do not want to let you go.”

“I can live with that.”

Every day he visited went the same way; a long embrace followed by cooking together and watching the telly or playing a board game until he went home again. You should never have been worried about feelings fading once you met again, as they only grew stronger the more you saw one another, and you were soon seeing each other almost every day of the week. Ben was kind when you were anxious about the state of the world and would gladly hold you as you sat together on the sofa, stroking your arm until you felt the tension lift from your shoulders and the clouds in your mind part to allow you to think more clearly.

“How about we get away for a few days?” he asks after one particularly bad anxiety attack, “places are starting to open for people to stay, so why don’t we go down to the coast for a while?”

“That would be lovely,” you nod before sighing and melting into his torso.

Ben gets his phone out straight away, scrolling through booking apps to see what’s open to guests, and he soon finds a cottage by the beach with it’s own pool in the garden that’s available for an upcoming weekend. After passing it by you quickly and you promising to pay half he books it, and after months of not leaving the area you’re finally able to become excited about travelling out of the city and into some fresh air.

“So this means we’re serious now, you know that right?” Ben grins as you tilt your head up to look at the smile tugging at his soft lips.

“Well it’s about time,” you smirk.

Lockdown had almost got the better of you but now that you were packing a case ready for a weekend by the sea you were feeling better already, even though you were squeezing in a box of face masks and enough hand sanitiser for ten people. Ben had even bought a novelty swan float for the pool after being swept up in the excitement of it all, and you were looking forward to getting there to try it out and hopefully have your worries float away.

“Ready?!” Ben calls out, hopping from one foot to the other and jingling his keys impatiently.

“Yes!” you laugh as you emerge from the bedroom with your case, “let’s go!”

The journey to the coast was exciting enough as it was, and by the time you arrive at the cottage you’re both buzzing with enthusiasm; falling through the door in fits of giggles with your cases as your stresses have been left way back in the city. You begin to unpack upstairs as Ben runs out to the garden and begins to pump up the float like an excited child.

“(Y/N)! Come on!” he calls out as he begins to strip off next to the pool.

“Don’t tell me you were wearing swim shorts under your clothes the whole way here?!” you laugh as you step out into the modest garden.

“Uh huh,” he nods, sticking his tongue out a little as he tilts his head to the huge float now bobbing along in the water.

“Oh my god! I didn’t expect it to be that big!”

“Not the first time I’ve heard that,” he winks.

You roll your eyes and tut at him, “I’ll be back in a bit, I’ll just get changed.”

You’re back within a couple of minutes and Ben’s already lounging on the float in the starfish position with a huge smile on his face, and you gently dip yourself into the pool then climb up to join him with some help where you eventually settle in between his thighs with your back resting on his bare chest.

“Now this, this is what I’ve been dreaming of since we got locked down,” Ben sighs happily as his hands run down your sides and land on your hips.

“Mhmm,” you hum in agreement, “I think this was definitely worth the wait.”

Your hands rest just below his knees as his fingers begin to walk their way across your bikini bottoms and you involuntarily bite down on your lower lip until they stop to ask for permission. Ben holds his breath as you slowly spread your legs wider, giving him the consent he needed, then he exhales while his fingertips slip beneath the fabric and begin to explore a place they’d never been before. He plays, he teases, he runs along your slit so gently that you move your hips forward to try and gain some friction, and you can feel his quiet laugh vibrate against your back when you do so.

“Ben,” you breathe as your fingers tighten on his skin, “please.”

He pushes your bottoms down to your thighs and you wriggle your legs until you’re able to flick them off of one foot and into the pool, then he spreads your lips with one hand so the other has uninterrupted access to your sensitive nub and waiting entrance. He slips two fingers inside you before beginning to pump quickly in and out while his thumb rubs pleasurable circles around your sweet spot, and your grip on his legs is as tight as it can go as you lean your head back on his shoulder and let out a series of short pants.

“Does it feel good?” he whispers hoarsely.

“So good,” you whimper, “oh god, so good.”

Your eyes close as his rhythm gets faster and you’re already unbelievably close to the edge as the float bobs along on the water thanks to the movement you were both making. It was a strange sensation; you were filled with so much pleasure and the fact that your body was floating on water was making you dizzy as you neared your climax, and all too soon you were pulsating around his thick digits, your eyes now wide open as you moan his name.

“Shit, that was hotter than I thought it would be,” Ben says as he removes his fingers to suck them clean, “round two?”

“My turn,” you smile as you manage to move your legs until you’re kneeling up, then turn to face him.

The float wobbles beneath your knees but you steady yourself on his thighs and when it’s stopped moving so much you tug his shorts down and waste no time in taking him in your mouth, much to his surprise judging by his gasped groan.

“Holy shit!”

He looks down to see one of your hands on his thigh as the other moves up and down his stiff length just below your mouth, and he moves your hair to one side so he can see your lips sliding up and down his shaft. His body moves more than yours did and you’re definitely not steady on the dipped part of the float where most of your body weight is pushing it down into the water, but you’re determined to get him off before you sink into the water at least.

“(Y/N), bloody hell,” he whines, his hips bucking up off of the float and shaking you both.

You bravely move your hand from his thigh to slip it underneath his sack and massage it gently in your hand, and you can hear a moan from above you with every breath he takes which only spurs you on; your cheeks being sucked all the way in every time you reach his tip. He’s unable to move his arms after they were shocked into position by your bold move, and he stays gripping onto the sides of the float so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if he heard a loud pop. A string of whispered words falls from his lips but you can barely make them out over the sound of the water in the pool lapping up at the plastic of the float, and you soon feel his arousal cover your tongue as his body relaxes beneath your hands, and when it’s disappeared down your throat you finally look up and wipe the back of your hand along your mouth with a chuckle.

“Well that was unexpected,” you smile.

“You’re telling me!” he pants, pulling you in for a passionate kiss.

Hello! I have this giant swan pool float and it gave me an idea...Would it be possible for you to do a fic where Ben Hardy and the female reader are dating and they end up doing it on the float since its big enough for 2 people?

@peachllobotomy @lv7867 @aynsleywalker @pink-lemo @painthatiusedto @itisjustmethistime @mamaskillerqueen @queenslandlover-93

#ben hardy smut #ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fanfiction

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rae-is-typing · 5 years ago

Text

‘Cause You Had a Bad day...

Notes: This little piece was inspired by the dumpster fire of a day I had a week ago. It’s self-indulgent as f u c k, as most of my fics are. Enjoy :)

Description: You’re having a terrible day. Your friends at the Avengers tower help you out a little bit.

Characters: reader, Sam Wilson, Bruce Banner, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, a rude receptionist named Lisa, unnamed security guard, Peter Parker is mentioned

Warnings: swearing, fractured limbs, squabbling between friends, x-rays

Disclaimers: Civil war probably didn't happen because everyone likes each other and gets along. Kind of.

Word count: 2.4k

Rain pounds on the cement, thunder rolls in the distance and it’s as if a dark cloud is looming over New York. You keep your head down with your hood up. The one day you forgot your umbrella is the one day that it rains like a motherfucker. Your entire body shivers and shakes, and the gusts of wind is only making it worse. You desperately wanted to call for help or a ride, but your phone has been dead all day because you forgot to charge last night. And to top off the shit sundae, you got locked out of your apartment and your parents are gone for the weekend. So you have to walk all the way to the tower from school with no phone, no wallet and no umbrella.

Nothing is going your way at all. You just want to get to the tower, take a nice hot shower, and crawl in a hole and die.

It’s only when the tower is in sight that you can relax and perk up a little and the pep comes back to your step. But without any warning, you fall forward. A figure runs past you at full speed with a purse in his hand. The contents of your bag spills out in front of you. You put out your hands and try to catch yourself, only to land hard on your wrist.

A cry falls from your lips as pain shoots up your arm. Tears immediately come to your eyes, not only from pain, but from your own righteous indignation.

“Fuck,” You cry weakly, pushing yourself up with your good hand. You had superhealing like Peter, but it’s not instantaneous and you’re definitely feeling this one.

You manage to gather your stuff with one hand and shove it back in your bag unceremoniously. You stumble to your feet, cradling your wrist to your chest. Walking the rest of the length to the tower, you desperately trying not to cry.

Someone was kind enough to hold the door for you when you finished walking the steps. After a quiet ‘thank you’, you stepped into the larger lobby.

“Excuse me, miss. I need some ID.” The snotty voice of the receptionist rang throughout the wide area.

“I’m here almost everyday, Lisa. Can you let it go one time?” You snap, pausing before the elevator.

“No, unfortunately not. It’s S.I. policy that we ID every visitor that enters the lobby.” Her voice bursts with fake sympathy.

“That is bullshit and you know it,” You voice hardens.

“I’m sorry ma’am. Please let me see your ID.”

You take a deep breath, trying not to go off on the bitchy receptionist. “Lisa, there are a ton of other people in here and neither you nor your co-workers have ID’d one of them. Now if you’ll excuse me,” You huff and walk towards the elevator, ready to press the button when someone puts a hand on your shoulder. You look behind you to see a security guard dressed in all black with a hard expression dressing his face.

“Can I help you?” You snap.

“I need you to come with me.” His voice is rough and low. His shoulders are squared, with arm gripping you, the other is placed on the weapon at his side.

“No.” More anger bubbles in your chest and your hands begin to shake. Your abilities begin to make themselves known through the surge of power you feel in your veins. Heat comes to your hands and your skin begins to warm up considerably. He grabs you by your upper arm, keeping a tight grip on it as he begins to drag you back to the entrance.

“What the fuck, let me go!”

Anxiety replaces your frustration. Knowing that using your abilities for anything other than pure self defense would definitely land you a weekend in jail and a ban from most career choices, you’re desperate to keep your powers at bay. You struggle in his grip, his hands squeezing your upper arm likely to the point of bruising. He had you at the entrance when the elevator opens. You don’t see it, but Tony, Bruce, Steve and Sam walked out into the lobby.

“What the hell is going on here?” Tony’s voice reverberates throughout the lobby with vigor. The bustling lobby goes silent; everything seems to stop. Your head snaps back to see Tony and Steve march up to the security guard. Steve pushes him off of you, and Tony begins to interrogate him.

“Why were your hands on my kid?”

“I-w was-”

“I don’t want to hear it. Get out of here and don’t come back.”

The security guard’s face changes form hard to confused and back to hard as he exits the building with slightly slumped shoulders.

“Mr. Stark, sir,” Lisa rushes out from behind her desk and in front of Tony. He glares down at her. “He was doing what I told him to, you don’t need to terminate him.”

“Why was my kid being dragged out against her will? And why is she holding her wrist like that?”

“She didn’t give me an ID. It’s industry policy that we ID each visitor-”

“She’s been coming here almost everyday for over a year. She is not a visitor.”

“All I did was-”

“Save it. Go home and don’t come in tomorrow.”

“But, Mr. Stark-”

Tony doesn’t listen. Instead, he turns to where Bruce is gently holding your wrist in his hands, examining the sprain. You skin has cooled down, but you’re still shaking and breathing hard. Steve and Sam stand near you. Sam’s arms are crossed over his chest, his eyes ablaze with anger. Steve had draped his coat over your shaking body, warming you up without the help of your abilities. The anger had left your body when Tony and the others began handling the situation. It was replaced with defeat and exhaustion.

“Jesus kid, you’re soaked. Did you walk all the way here or something?” Tony’s voice went from brutal to concerned in a heartbeat. He ushers everyone to the elevator to avoid the prying eyes of those in the lobby.

“Yeah,” You say softly, wincing when Bruce pressed two fingers to your wrist.

“Why didn’t you call one of us?” Steve asks.

“My phone died.”

“Where’s your umbrella, honey?”

“In my apartment.”

“Why didn’t you get it before coming here?”

“I got locked out.”

“What happened to your wrist?”

“Someone ran into me and I fell on it.”

“You couldn’t catch a break today, could you?”

You shake your head, sniffling.

“You need to get changed before you catch a cold,” Steve says.

“That’s not how it works,” Tony chimes, glancing at Steve. “The common cold is a virus, the weather has almost nothing to do with it.”

“Really? She’s in pain and soaking wet and you’re chastising me for not wanting her to get sick?”

“I just thought you should know how viruses work. Your information is a little outdated. What’s it been? Seventy-three years?”

“You know what, Stark? You can-”

“Stop fighting.” Bruce says, a hint of a growl coming through his normal voice. The two men stop squabbling for a moment to turn their attention back to you.

“Super-healing not working yet?”

“I think so, it just really hurts,” Your voice cracks as you hold back tears. You aren’t one to cry over most things, but the stress coupled with your feelings of defeat and indignation and finally getting a break become too much for you.

“Oh kid, you don’t need to cry.” Tony speaks, voice turning slight with discomfort at the sight of a couple tears trailing your cheeks. “Seriously, you don’t.”

“Sorry,” You choke out, trying to wipe your eyes with your good hand.

“Don’t apologize, Y/N. A release of emotion is healthy. Stark’s a robot, so he doesn’t understand that.” Steve says, wrapping an arm around you, and letting you rest your head on his shoulder. He throws a pointed look at Tony. “Cry if you need to.”

You nod as the elevator begins to rise. Steve keeps an arm wrapped around you, and you keep your head on his shoulder. You’re crying, but not outright sobbing and occasionally wiping your eyes. The sharp pain in your wrist has dulled to a simple throb, and your hair is slowly drying. The elevator is silent until Bruce speaks up.

“I’ll take a closer look with the live x-ray in the med bay. Right now it looks like a simple fracture that your body should be able to handle within the next couple hours,”

You only nod, eyes fixed on the elevator door. It opens to the med bay. It’s clean, medical instruments on carts and scales in other places. It takes up an entire floor for post-mission operations and other check ups. There are a few doctors on call for emergencies, however you and the other Avengers were most comfortable with Bruce or occasionally Dr. Strange checking in on you if you can help it.

“Come over here,” Bruce says, leading you to a large table with a few slots built into it and a monitor on top of it. “I need you to take off the jacket and roll up your sleeve.”

You follow the instructions, and take off your bag and set it on the floor. Then you take off Steve’s jacket, hand it back to him, take of your soaking wet hoodie which Steve also takes and roll up the sleeve to your equally soaked shirt.

“Put your arm through here,” Bruce says, gesturing to the slot in the table. It’s glass on both sides and emits a brilliant blue light. You sit in a chair near the table and out your injured arm through the slot. He gently grabs your hand and guides it to the right position. You fold your legs criss-cross-applesauce on the chair.

It takes a while for the image of your wrist on the monitor. Bruce studies it for a couple moments and you stare blankly at the image of your bones. There’s a small break on the radius of your forearm near your hand.

“It’s a green-stick fracture, it uh looks like your healing factor has already begun to take care of it. Does it hurt?” You nod. “Alright, I can give you some of the painkillers that we give Peter when he’s hurt.” Bruce turns off the x-ray and lets you take your arm out before he gets up and rummages through a random cart.

You look up when someone places their hand on your shoulder. Steve smiles down at you. “We’re ordering food, what do you want?”

You shrug, staring back at the now blank monitor. “Something warm,”

“Alright, Shawarma it is.” Tony declares.

“We are not eating Shawarma again. Let's get something more palatable,”

“Shawarma is palatable.”

“Not three nights in a row,”

“JARVIS, place the usual order the Chinese place downtown.” Sam says, rolling his eyes at their squabbling.

“Done,” JARVIS’s automated voice rang out.

Bruce comes back over holding a small white pill in a small cup, a glass of water and what looks like a brace. You took it from him, easily swallowing the pill and water down.

“Put this on with it. It’ll keep your arm in the right position,”

“Thanks,” You say,slipping the brace on, tightening it and resting your injured arm on the table.

“They’ll begin to take effect in a few minutes. You should be able to shower and get dressed after that.”

You nod, looking back down at your lap. Soon enough, your wrist stopped hurting. You get up without a word and take yourself to the floor you and Peter stay on when you’re staying overnight. Peter is running errands with May, so he won’t be in until later.

You get to your room and push open the door. Tossing your bag and the brace on your bed, you plug in your phone and go to the bathroom. You turn on the shower to mildly scalding and peel of the wet clothes.

You take a nice long shower, taking your time in warming up, and crying a little more. The hot water washed away the rest of your tears, your frustration and the anxiety that you’ve been lugging around all day.

“Miss Y/N, the food has arrived. I recommend you get out soon before it is all gone.” JARVIS speaks. You sigh, turning off the water. You dry yourself off quickly enough and put on a soft crewneck sweater and a pair of large sweats and slip the brace back on.

You put on a pair of slippers and make your way to the communal floor to see Steve making himself a plate. He smiles when he sees you.

“Feeling any better, sweetie?”

“Kinda,” You shrug. “I’m really tired,”

“It’s been a long day, doll. Get some food, Sam’s putting on a movie,”

You nod, grabbing a plate from the stack near the food. You fill it up with what you want and go to sit in the living room. Tony lounges on the largest chair in the living room, Sam sits with his legs up on the love seat, and Bruce is curled up on the smaller of the chairs in the living room.

“Welcome back, kid.” Tony breathes out, stretching out lazily. He changed too, now donning a band shirt and some joggers.

“Hey,” you greet him, sitting on the sofa that’s next to the love seat.

“We’re watching Easy A once Steve gets his ass in here!” Sam begins with an even tone before throwing his head over his shoulder and yelling the last part.

“I’m coming, be patient.” He grumbles, taking a seat next to you and placing his food on the coffee table.

“Took you long enough, Capsicle. Start the movie, J.”

“Yes, sir.”

The lights in the living room dim, the surround sound starts and the movie begins to play. You sink in the couch, the comfortable plush calming you even more. With the help of the drugs and the brace, your wrist feels as good as knew. Gratitude warms you chest as you catch Tony’s eye. You smile at him.

‘Thank you’ you mouth. He only nods with an equally warm smile gracing his lips before turning back to the movie playing on the screen.

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princess-of-riviaa · 4 years ago

Text

Meet Me, Love Me chapter 2: daddys_pr1ncess

Chapter 1: The Lieutenant

Pairing: Walter Marshall x OFC (Erin)

Series Summary: After meeting a woman on the dating site Meet Me, Love Me, Walter finds himself falling into a messy web of lies, deceit, and heartbreak.

Chapter Summary: Erin does her best to stay professional around Lieutenant Marshall, which doesn’t last for very long.

Warning(s): masturbating, spanking, slight angst

Word Count: 2,488

“Valdez, you’re with Lieutenant Marshall today,” Officer Romero says before continuing down her list of every intern’s daily task.

Erin’s eyes pop. Today is her first day of field training. She’ll get to be front and center to all the action, which is the entire reason she signed up to be an intern in the first place. She’s been looking forward to this day for weeks. But why are they sending her out with a lieutenant instead of a cop with a lower position and less important things to do? And why, of all people, did it have to Walter she’s paired up with?

“You’re the guy I’ve been sexting for the last month,” she’d said that day in the restaurant as she realized that Lieutenant Walter Marshall was the.lieutenant, AKA the man she’d been calling daddy for the last three weeks. She’d never wished to be swallowed up by the earth more than she had in that moment. “Wait--you’re the guy who’s been sexting me!”

Holy shit.

She spent her mornings taking this guy’s coffee order and her nights making videos for him to jerk off to. How the hell was she supposed to show her face at work now that she knew what his dick looked like, had practically memorized every detail of it after all the pictures he’d sent her of his hard-on?

“What the hell do we do now?” she had asked, not necessarily to him, but to anyone who was listening and had the slightest bit of an answer.

“The only thing we can do.” There’s a reluctance in Lieutenant Marshall’s--Walter’s voice that she’d never heard before.

For some stupid reason, she let herself hope. Hope that he would say something along the lines of I know this is probably breaking twenty HR rules but let’s keep talking anyways, now do you wanna go to my place and fuck? Call her a hopeless romantic, or a stupid idiot. She’s not sure there’s much difference. But her chest had tightened and her heart had fluttered in those few seconds between his sentences.

And then he said: “We can’t do this anymore. We have to stop talking right now. Neither one of us knew who the other was when we started this… this… whatever this was. But it’s over. It has to be.”

Of course, she understood why he did it. Not only was it wrong to keep doing it while they worked together, but he was about ten positions above her, and that made it even worse. He had to save his job and his reputation.

She understood the logic behind it. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Now, a week later, she’s being assigned to him for the day. The wound is still fresh. She still finds herself reaching for her phone to text him, only to stop herself when she opens the app and sees his username. She still reads their texts as she's lying in bed at night, feeling like a clingy idiot. They no longer riled her up now, they only make her start to cry. It’s stupid, she knows that. It wasn’t a real relationship. But she misses having him there, misses talking to someone at all hours of the day. So how the hell is she supposed to act professional around him today?

Once Officer Romero has given her instructions, Erin walks up to her and says, “Sorry, but I thought--”

The older lady holds up a hand, silencing Erin. “First, don’t ever start a sentence with ‘sorry, but..’. If you’re going to say something, you gotta mean it. I expect that kind of confidence in you before you pass your training.”

Erin nods. “Yeah, okay. Sorry. I mean… uh, I was just…”

Someone calls Officer Romero’s name and she excuses herself. Just as she starts to walk down the hall she passes Walter on his way in. She tells him that Erin is going to be under him today and--god, what is wrong with her for finding something dirty in that?--Walter stops in his tracks. He looks around the room until he spots Erin. She tries to give an apologetic smile but it feels more like a grimace.

This is going to be a long day.

An hour later, Walter has settled in, scanned through paperwork, had his three cups of black coffee, and Erin decides it’s time to head down to his unmarked Ford Explorer and wait for him. She’s in an actual police uniform today--normally she’s in sweats and a police t-shirt--and though it’s something that would make her giddy with excitement, the thought of spending her first day out in the field with Walter is killing her buzz.

Walter doesn’t say anything as he makes his way to his car and hits the unlock button on his keys. Erin slides into the passenger seat. Walter turns on the car and adjusts the AC and the police radio without even acknowledging her presence.

“So, I want you to know that I didn’t do anything,” Erin explains. “I didn’t say anything to anyone, Officer Romero just randomly assigned me to you--”

He silences her with a look.

She hesitates before adding, “I just… don’t want you to think that I’m not respecting your wishes. I’m not trying to make your job harder for you.”

His expression slightly softens. Slightly.

Erin doesn’t let her mouth get away from her this time. The car is tense and silent as Walter switches into drive and heads off down the highway. Erin doesn’t know where they’re going but he looks like a man on a mission so she doesn’t question it.

They spend the first two hours in silence. No calls come in. They just sit on a part of the highway directly between the two biggest cities in the area and wait for a call on the radio that never comes. Neither one of them speaks. Walter finally speeds off down the highway around eleven. Erin thinks he’s been notified of a crime that she isn’t aware of, and is slightly disappointed when they pull into a McDonald’s drive-thru.

“What are we doing here?” she asks.

He ignores her as he pulls up to the window and orders half the menu. He doesn’t even ask if she wants anything before finishing the order.

“Walter?” she asks, then quickly corrects herself. “Er, Lieutenant Marshall?”

He still ignores her. Once he’s paid and gotten the three bags of food, he drives back to their waiting point along the highway. Erin can only stay quiet for a few more minutes.

“I’m putting in a complaint when we get back to the station,” she tells him.

He finally looks at her, giving her a look that says, why the hell are you going to do that?

She just stares at him with a look of her own. If you want me to explain myself, you’ll have to talk.

“Why are you putting in a complaint?” he sighs.

“You’re being completely unprofessional.” Normally she’d be too shy to speak to an officer like this, but she’s had enough of the stupid chip on his shoulder. Plus, he’s seen her naked, so there’s nothing left to be shy about with him.

“I’m not doing anything,” Walter protests.

“Exactly!” Erin agrees. “The point of taking me with you is to teach me stuff. We’ve already wasted half our shift and you’ve taught me nothing, except that you eat enough for a family of four!”

“I only eat once a day,” Walter argues, like that changes anything.

Erin rolls her eyes. “That’s not the point.”

“And what is your point? Do you actually have one or do you just feel like yelling?”

“My point is that you’re discriminating against me,” she says. “You’re letting the whole ‘Meet Me, Love Me’ thing get in your head and you’re using it as a wall between us. You can ignore me for the rest of your life. Fine. But not today. You don’t get to not teach me just because you regret our relationship. So act professional and teach me, Walter!”

He doesn’t say anything. Erin opens her mouth to yell at him some more, when she recognizes the strange new look on his face. His eyes are glazed over and his mouth slightly parted as he stares at Erin’s mouth like he’s under a spell. Erin’s face burns as she realizes what he’s no doubt thinking about: she likes to be a brat sometimes just to get a reaction out of him. He punishes her accordingly every time, but it’s the hottest thing to both of them. Walter loves laying down the law--his law--and Erin loves being punished. Intense heat wets her panties and she squeezes her legs together. He notices. His gaze jumps to her legs immediately and he fucking licks his lips. Is he trying to kill her?

“Walter--” she says, her voice shaking, but Walter’s phone goes off before she can say anything else.

He answers the call and, just like that, the moment is over.

“I’m needed back at the station,” he explains as he hangs up the phone. That’s all he says for the rest of the drive.

…

That night, after enjoying a couple glasses of wine, Erin locks herself in her room, away from her roommates, and decides to watch Pornhub on her laptop. She hasn’t needed to do this in a while; usually sexting with Walter is enough to make her satisfied. So having to look up adult videos is just another bitter reminder that whatever they had--a fling? A relationship?--is done. She may or may not have pulled up her Meet Me, Love Me messages with Walter beforehand, reading through their own conversations as a strange form of roleplay.

What she does do, however, is hit the record button on her phone without realizing. Once she shuts her phone off for the night, it automatically stops recording. And somehow, either through her tipsiness or her fatigue, she hits send. The video of her masturbating--and moaning Walter’s name as she cums--goes straight to the lieutenant himself.

…

The next morning, Walter drags her into a windowless janitor’s closet, his nails digging into her arm. He’s never been rough with her before--occasionally he’ll use harsh words when she’s been acting like a brat, but they’ve never been in physical contact for this to happen, and she has a strange and possibly psychotic gratefulness that his touch will leave bruises on her arm, a reminder that he’s not just some figment of her imagination.

“What kind of game are you playing?” he growls in a whisper-shout, cautious of the people on the other side of the door.

She has no idea what he’s talking about. She says as much.

“Don’t play dumb with me, you dirty little brat,” he spits.

Erin’s going straight to hell for the way those words--and his angry growl--sends heat straight to her core.

Walter continues, “That cute little speech you gave yesterday about wanting to stay professional… you don’t get to say shit like that and then send me videos like the one from last night.”

“What video are you…?” And then it hits her. She has no memory of sending him anything, no memory of even making a video. “Walter, I didn’t mean--”

He takes a step towards her, his shoes now flush with hers. Their chests brush against each other with every inhale. Erin has to crane her neck all the way back to look him in the eye. Dominance radiates off of him, as strong as his cologne, and fuck does it make her wet. She tries to keep her breathing steady, to not make it obvious that her heart is racing, but it gets harder the longer he looks at her with that anger in his eyes. It’s as terrifying as it is arousing.

Walter puts his hands on either side of her head, trapping her. His face is so close to hers that she can feel his breath against her cheeks. “You moaned my goddamn name when you came. You said my name--and you’re really trying to stand here and convince me that you hadn’t meant that video for me?”

“Walter--” Erin begins, her voice shaking, but she can’t get anything more than his name out before his hands are on her hips and he’s spinning her to face the wall. He presses his body against hers. His warmth envelopes her but it makes her shiver. She wants him. God, does she want him. She’d willingly let him fuck her right here and now, damn whoever might walk in on them.

“My name,” he growls in her ear, “is Lieutenant, got it?”

“Yes,” she whimpers. It’s taking every ounce of self-control to not beg him to fuck her. She can feel his erection against her ass; this is just as exciting to him. She wants that cock inside of her, moving between her walls and teasing her pussy, splitting her open as he enters her, fucking her so hard that she can’t walk after.

“Yes, what?” he spits.

“Yes, Lieutenant.” Her arousal is already soaking her panties. She wonders if he can smell it, the way she can smell his arousal.

“Good girl.” He’s really trying to kill her, isn’t he? He knows exactly what that praise does to her, how it makes her weak in the knees. “Now be good and don’t scream.”

Erin pauses, but before she can ask what he’s doing he yanks her pants down. She gasps, her cheeks burning with embarrassment as the cool air hits her asscheeks. And then she gasps again--for an entirely different reason--when Walter begins to knead her cheeks in his hands.

Her Latina heritage blessed her with curves, which includes a big butt. She used to be embarrassed of it her entire life. And then she started dating guys and realized they like touching her big butt as much as she likes it being touched. But Walter’s hands are big enough to make her feel small, even as he touches the biggest part on her body, and that does something to her that she’s never experienced. Something she can’t explain but she knows she likes.

And then he spanks her. His hands come down roughly on both of her cheeks and she gasps, more at the sound than the pain. But when the sting finally registers, it’s not completely unbearable. In fact, there’s something about the way her skin burns that makes it… addicting. She wants him to spank her again.

And he does.

Three more times, on each cheek. He doesn’t bother to be gentle with her. The masochist in her loves it.

And later, as she feels the ghost of his hands with every passing second, she smiles to herself. That video had been sent on accident, but she’d do it over again in a heartbeat.

***

Tag Squad:

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#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #walter marshall #walter marshall smut #walter marshall night hunter #night hunter #nomis #henry cavill nomis

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larryssunflower · 5 years ago

Text

The Non-Royal Romance, season two, part one

last part of season 1 teaser trailer masterlist

(really bad) summary: TRR AU where MC (Alana Rhys) is the now queen of Cordonia, and Liam was part of the suitors in line to marry her. Drake Walker is Alana’s personal bodyguard, and as the season goes on, their feelings for each other only get stronger. After an assassination attempt during the coronation ball, Alana’s mother announces without her consent that she will marry Liam, to both Drake and Alana’s dismay. This season is dedicated to Alana’s and Liams engagement tour, and what will happen as it goes on

pairing: Drake Walker x MC x Liam (kinda)

tagging- @ravenpuff02 @simplyaiden-blog @msjr0119 @butindeed @mfackenthal @axwalker @choices-lurker @american-duchess @drakelover78 @monosodiumglutamateme @crookedslimecreatorpasta @mrsdrakewalkerblog @traeumerinwitzhelden @gardeningourmet @speedyoperarascalparty @agent-zephyrkah @liam-rhys-x-mc-x-constantine @snyggflicka @texaskitten30 @annekebbphotography @irishwhiskys-blog @nomadics-stuff @catlady0911 @twinkle-320 @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @drakewalker04 @bigmemesplz @jovialyouthmusic @sleepwalkingelite @pintobomb @moneyfordiamonds @mskaneko @lauzales @princessleac1 @kingliam2019

----

*six months after the coronation ball*

These past few months have been difficult, I’m not going to lie. I’ve spent the majority of my time living in the Beaumont manor, recovering my shoulder and having well deserved space from my mother. Luckily the interactions I have had with Liam have been brief, I can’t bring myself to act like I’m in love with him because he thinks I actually chose him and I don’t have the balls to tell him he wasn’t my choice. No one knows that it was my mother’s decision and I’m in love with my former bodyguard. The perfect Queen huh?

I haven’t seen Drake since the incident. It was so perfect for that short span of time where he loved me back and we were finally together. But that changed... thanks to my mother. My memory is still hazy due to the pain medication and all I remember is the incident on tv, falling asleep at one point with Drake by my side, and waking up and he was gone. My mom said he just up and left.

I don’t blame him if I’m being honest. Who would want to be with this train wreck? I sigh, running my hands through my dirty hair. I know it’s pathetic, but I haven’t really been taking care of myself recently. I started getting night terrors, every time I’m in that ballroom, my friends and family being slaughtered around me, time and time again and I can’t do anything to help them. Maxwell always wakes me up with a hug, holding me as I sob in his arms.

We still haven’t found who orchestrated the assassination attempt. It’s not easy when your country is relatively peaceful with very few enemies.

I trace my fingers over my scar on my shoulder. My doctor said it could take up to a year to function normally again. Thank god it’s not fatal, but the psychological toll hasn’t been easy. I can’t help this horrible feeling of guilt every time I think about the ball. They were there to kill me, and harmed my friends to get there. Who knows what else they will do to get to me or my friends the second time?

I let out a breath shakily, looking out the window. Theres no point thinking like that. That’s all I have been doing, stressing over things I can’t control.

All I know is that the engagement tour is starting tonight, and I have to speak to people again. I have to spend time with Liam, try to pretend to be in love, try to pretend that I’m not falling apart. I have to do this without Drake by my side. A horrible feeling pangs in my stomach anytime I think about him. I lost the one person I have ever felt this way about and maybe its a good thing. It wasn’t fair to him, our whole relationship- if you could call it that.

I eventually drag myself into a well-needed shower, letting the hot water melt away the tension in my back. I don’t have a choice anymore, all I can do is try to do my best tonight. That’s all I can do.

—-

I wake up, and immediately look to my left. Drake isn’t there. I frown, sitting up in my uncomfortable hospital bed, ignoring the pain in my shoulder and looking around. “Drake?” I ask, hoping he’s just in the other room. The door opens and my mom walks in, looking somber. A wave of anger flows over my body as I remember what she did. “Where is he.” I demand, my chest tight. She looks at me for a moment, not saying anything. “Where. is. he.” I demand harshly, making her sigh as I stare at her, my heart pounding.

“I didn’t want to tell you this way, but he’s gone.” My mother says much too simply, her everlasting sense of disapproval emulating from her gaze. Tears spring to my eyes as I digest what she said. “G-Gone?” I ask, swallowing thickly. My mother nods, walking over and sitting delicately on my bed. “Once you had fallen asleep, He left the room. I tried to ask him where he was going but he just said ‘I can’t do it anymore’ and walked away without a second glance.” She explains, making my heart break. Tears pool and spill onto my cheeks. I look down at my blurry hands which have began shaking.

“I’m so sorry honey,” My mother says, trying to hold my hand. I yank it away from her, fuming. “Don’t touch me.” I grit through my teeth, my conflicting feelings of anger, abandonment, loss, and love waging a war inside of me. “I can’t believe you! how could you do this to my life? Leave! please,” I beg, my voice shaking embarrassingly. My mother closes her mouth, pressing her lips together. “So be it.” She says, monotone. She gets up, and walks out the door.

I fall back against my pillow, tears pouring out of my eyes.

He’s gone.

—-

I brush my now soft, clean hair, and watch as it falls gently on my shoulders. My baby pink dress is form fitting, the straps thick enough to hide the scar on my shoulder. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

Not sure if that’s really true, because I haven’t seen Drake in six months but... he is not out of my mind. It hurts more knowing that he probably doesn’t even care about me, especially since he walked out when it got rough and has probably moved on when all i do is think about him.

I watch my door open in the reflection of my mirror, my mother walking in. “You clean up well hon,” My mother says, her hopeful smile on that face. She has been trying really hard to make it up to me. “Thanks,” I say quietly, looking down at my clasped hands, my heavy, expensive ring on my left hand. The ornate gold ring pairs with a large crystal clear diamond, surrounded by smaller diamonds in a teardrop shape. Its beautiful, but feels foreign. Liam brought it to me in the hospital a couple weeks after Drake left. My mother was watching carefully as I smiled and accepted the ring, giving Liam a kiss in thanks. The next day, a picture of me in my hospital bed and Liam presenting his ring to me was all over the gossip news and magazines. My mother pretended to be outraged but I knew she set it up. She’s a smart diplomat, I’ll give her that. She always knows what she’s doing.

“Tonight’s the big night! Your first event as Queen!” My mother says enthusiastically, and I nod absentmindedly, fiddling with the ring. I haven’t worn it since the day in the hospital, and it’s just been sitting on my bedside table, collecting dust and eating away at my stomach. My mother sighs. “Why can’t you be happy? Will you ever forgive me?” She asks, and I look up at her in the mirror, my expression unchanged. “I’ve told you many times how you could earn my forgiveness and respect back.” I say, referencing a past conversation we had, keeping my voice flat and even. My mother purses her lips. “Well then. I’ll see you tonight at the party. Stay presentable,” My mother orders, before swiftly turning away, stalking out the door. I scoff, shaking my head.

—-

(Drake’s p.o.v)

I clench my jaw, punching the bag in front of me repeatedly. All my anger, regret, and frustration pouring out as I beat the punching bag, making it shake violently back and forth, it’s chain groaning.

I eventually stop, breathing heavily. I sigh, wiping the sheen of sweat off my forehead. All I can think about is her. As pathetic as that is. “You okay man?” the gym manager, Greg, asks. I nod, without looking up. “Yeah thanks, I’m fine,” I breathe, sitting down on the bench behind me, looking down as I unwrap my knuckles.

For a brief moment I’m back in that room, watching as she treats my fresh wounds, the light from the windows softly framing her beautiful face, whiskey flowing through my veins because that was the only way I could attempt to calm my nerves, being so close to her. I sigh, trying to push her from my mind.

She doesn’t want you anymore.

“Hey uh, someone’s here to see you,” Greg says, his tone shifted. I look up in confusion and see Alana’s mother standing behind him, clearly uncomfortable in the dingy gym. I stand up quickly, suddenly feeing self conscious about my sweaty gym clothes.

Greg senses the tension and tentatively walks away, giving us a strange look. I guess it’s not every day that one of his patrons is visited by the recently former Queen. I look back at Regina, anger building back up within me. “How can I help you, Your Majesty?” I ask turning my head to the side, my nose flaring angrily. She blinks. “I deserve that,” she admits, looking down at the dingy floor. “I came here with a proposition for you,” She says, looking back up at me, making me furrow my brow in confusion.

—-

(Alana’s p.o.v)

“You got this Al, I know you do.” Maxwell reassures me, his eyes kind. I smile, “Thanks Max,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I know you’ve had a tough couple months, but you may as well try to have a good time tonight,” Maxwell says, and I nod. We start to walk out of my room and down the hall, Maxwell’s arm slung around my shoulders. “We can get drunk just like old times,” Maxwell laughs in my ear, making me laugh. “Oh those were the days,” I sigh contently, my good friend making me smile.

We laugh as we make our way to the main entryway, separating as we walk down the stairs. I look up at the sound of the front doors opening and stop in my tracks. In walks in my mother and...Drake?

A wall of emotion hits me so hard, I feel as though I could fall over. The man I love, the man I swear to at night, the man who broke my heart, standing just a few feet away from me, in a frustratingly handsome navy suit, avoiding my eye contact.

“I got your bodyguard back, now, let’s leave before we are late to your engagement party,” My mother says, a satisfied smile on her face. I snap back to reality, nodding wordlessly. I walk down the stairs, not being able to look Drake in the eyes. As I pass him through the doorway, I feel his hand on my lower back, guiding me through. Chills spread over my arms and I keep walking, my face burning in embarrassment. I feel like a spoiled child whose parent forced some child to be my friend. I can’t believe she remembered.

Five months ago my mother asked how she could earn my forgiveness, and I simply said ‘bring him back’.

I step into the back of our black SUV, Maxwell following behind me. My mother gets into her own car with her bodyguard, and Drake sits up front with the driver. I can feel Max’s gaze on mine, but I don’t look at him, my stomach fluttering unpleasantly. I’m not eager to see the expression of my good friend’s face. I’m torn between being overjoyed that the man I love is so close to me again, and angry because that same man broke my heart six months ago. How can he just sit there, no emotion, after what he did? How much is my mother paying him? I cringe, looking out the window, waiting until we arrive.

—-

Our cars pull up onto the gravel drive, the Amaranth Manor glittering in the warm night. Home to one of the Cordonia most notable noble family, their daughter being Madeline. I only met on her on a couple of occasions- she’s... not my taste.

The cars roll to a stop just in front of the large doors, my nerves fluttering. I haven’t been in public like this in so long. My car door opens, and for the fist time in six months, I make direct eye contact with Drake. Just like that, all my reservations and cautiousness is out the window, replaced with the familiar feeling of overwhelming love and longing for Drake. A feeling I’ve tried to ignore for these past months that I just can’t hold it back anymore.

I get lost in those warm, brown, beautiful eyes, butterflies erupting in my stomach. I force myself to look away, gulping nervously. I take a deep breath, take his hand, and step down off the SUV. The manor is lit up with warm lights, music playing loudly through the french doors which are open wide for the warm summer air. I look over and see two men waiting for me one of whom is Liam, the other, I don’t recognize. Liam grins, walking over and enveloping me in an embrace. I smile, hugging him back. He kisses my cheek as he pulls away, his eyes twinkling in the moonlight. “So nice to see you again babe,” He says, and I grin. “Yes it is,” I smile. Liam turns, gesturing for the other man to walk over.

“This is my brother, Leo. He’s joining us on our tour,” Liam explains. “Ah, so nice to meet you!” I exclaim, holding out my hand. Leo takes it, placing a kiss on my knuckles. “It’s my pleasure Your Majesty,” Leo says in a smooth voice. I smile politely, and we head over to the entrance. I glance over my shoulder, spotting Maxwell throwing his arm over Liam, talking pleasantly with his friend, and Drake, following behind.

We enter the main ballroom, where many of the suitors form last season are, now with women of nobility. I feel slightly intimidated as we walk in, and they go nearly quiet. We are announced and the voices start up again, louder this time. Liam and I start getting bombarded by nobles, ready to congratulate us on our engagement. We maneuver through the party, my jeweled hand resting on Liam’s arm, in clear view. Drake trails behind us, but I try not to think or look at him, not sure how I will react. I get many compliments on my ring from noble women, many of whom will be my bridesmaids, even though I barely know any of them.

Hours into the party and a couple noble women stand out, like the extremely nice woman Hana Lee, the bubbly Penelope Ebrim, the cultured french woman Kiara Theron, and of course, Madeline. “Step-Cousin! So nice to see you,” Madeline says in a hard-to-tell but definitely fake smile. “Lovely to see you as well! Thank you for hosting,” I smile back. She studies me for a moment, before turning to Liam. “Liam. It’s been a while, you look well,” Madeline says, a slight blush forming on her cheeks. “You too Madeline,” Liam grins. She looks at him for a moment, before turning to me.

“Looking forward to the wedding? I bet it will be just lovely,” Madeline says, an edge to her voice. What is her problem? “Yeah definitely! Um- would you two excuse me for a moment? I think I just need some fresh air,” I say, and they both nod. “Are you okay?” Liam asks quietly, his hand on my forearm. I nod with a smile, gently releasing myself from his grip. “Yes! I’ll be right back,” I say cheerfully, kissing his cheek quickly, before turning and making my way through the ballroom and out one of the open doors, into the secluded garden. I walk for a bit in the quiet, until I’m far enough to be out of sight from the party, and sit down on a stone bench outside. I sigh, a feeling of relief washing over me, happy to finally be alone again.

I honestly forgot the stress of being a noble - and now I’m Queen. god, what have I gotten myself into?

I suddenly hear a branch break, and whip my head to see Drake, standing just a bit away from me. I sigh. “Why did you follow me?” I ask, feeling an overwhelming sense of exhaustion from the situation. He sighs. “I’m just trying to do my job.” Drake says, shifting uncomfortably. I nod slightly, looking down.

After a moment, Drake talks again, “I don’t know why you wanted me back as your bodyguard, you seemed like you were done with us.” He says quietly. I scoff, standing up indignantly, facing him. “Excuse me? I was the one who was done? Last time I checked, you were the one who walked out,” I say angrily, glad I walked far enough from the crowded party to have privacy.

Drake looks at me, clear confusion in his face. “You didn’t want me with you. Your mother made me leave when- when it happened. After you fell asleep she told me that you were done with us, that you couldn’t take it anymore. You forced me out of your life, I didn’t walk out.” Drake explains, his annoyingly calm voice just making me more confused.

“But my mom told me...” I stop, my heart pounding. I look up at Drake, who is staring back at me, his eyes wide. It starts to click. Why did I just trust what my mom said after what she did? His Adam’s apple bobs up and back down. “You didn’t want me to leave did you?” He asks quietly. I shake my head. “You didn’t give up on me?” I ask, gulping. He nears me. “No. never. You have no idea how much I fought. I was at the hospital every day, trying to find a way to see you, to change your mind. Eventually they threatened me with arrest. The next day, you were moved to another hospital. I kept trying, I didn’t stop, as much as I probably should have. You have no idea how many stupid gossip magazines I bought just to get any information about you, to see if you were okay,” Drake says with a chuckle, making me snort at the picture of Drake buying gossip magazines, my stomach fluttering with happiness. He didn’t give up on us.

We look at each other for a moment, just staring. “I missed you,” I say softly, my voice cracking. Something breaks within Drake and he pulls me towards him, embracing me tightly. I sigh, melting into his familiar arms, clinging onto his shoulders. He buries his face into my neck, making me sigh with content. Something I haven’t felt for months. I curl my fingers in his hair, pulling gently. After a moment, he pulls away from the embrace, his eyes scanning my face.

In a second, our lips are connected. It’s hesitant at first, still unsure, our mutual feelings of hurt still lingering between us. I let out a small moan, the feeling of his lips on mine intoxicating after months of feeling nothing. I clearly did something right, because Drake groans, pulling me closer than imagined, his hands roaming up and down my sides. All these months of to re-living our kisses in the middle of the night could not have prepared me for how I feel in this moment. My heart soaring, my nerves on fire, wanting- no begging- for more contact.

Once my lungs are burning for air, we break apart, breathing heavily. “God, I missed you too,” Drake says, his voice an octave lower than usual, making my heart swoop into my stomach. God, how does he have such an impact on me? Just his deep voice makes me want to jump his bones. I gulp, looking up at him. “What now?” I ask, and he looks down. “Honestly? I’m not sure,” He says quietly.

I bring my hand up, caressing his cheek, making him look up at me. He blinks, looking deeply into my eyes. “All I know is that I can’t lose you again. I’m not sure how I’m going to deal with this engagement situation, but I will never give up on us.” I say with every fiber in my being, hoping he understands my sincerity. He nods, a strange look in his eyes. Before I can question him, my phone goes off. I look down to see a text from Liam, asking me where I am.

I sigh, a feeling of guilt creeping up on me. Just because I don’t want to be with Liam doesn’t mean I want to hurt him. “What is it?” Drake asks, and I sigh. “I have to get back in there, as much as I wish I could stay out here with you,” I say, longing to stay forever with Drake, never having to leave his side again. His face falls slightly, before he smiles. “Hey, at least we figured this out. It was hard thinking that you didn’t want me for six months,” Drake says, making me smile. “Yeah, I’m glad we figured this out,” I say, and He looks at me for a moment, before swooping in, giving me a sweet kiss. I happily kiss back, before we both pull away.

“Time to go back in I guess,” I say, and He nods. We walk through the garden, back into the crowded party, my stomach still fluttering with butterflies after that kiss. Drake stays a good distance behind me, which is probably smart because if I could, I would never stop trying to touch or kiss him, which would be a bit concerning for the nobles, as they are at the engagement party for me and a different man. Leo, Liam’s brother pulls me aside gently. “Oh hi Leo,” I say, and he looks at me for a moment. “Did you enjoy your breath of fresh air?” He asks, making my stomach drop. He didn’t see did he? “Yeah, sometimes parties like this are suffocating and I just need a break,” I say, keeping my voice level.

Leo studies me for a mother moment, a sly smirk creeping onto his face. “hmm, I like you,” He says in a thoughtful way as I smile back, my heart pounding. Did he see me and Drake? “Thank you, I’m glad my future brother in law approves,” I say with a slightly nervous chuckle. I can’t figure Leo out, is he threatening me?

“Hey what’s up babe?” Liam asks, coming over to us, sliding a hand around my waist. I glance over to see Drake staring daggers at Liam’s hand. Funny how things never change. It makes me blush knowing Drake is protective over me. “Oh, nothing, just talking to your lovely brother,” I smile, clearly making Liam happy. “I’m glad! You two are very important to me,” He says, and we start a perfectly pleasant conversation.

The night moves on, we dance for a while, eat some appetizers, drink some champagne and before I know it, the party is over. I say goodbye to Liam, making my way to my assigned room away from him, which may have been orchestrated by my step-cousin, little does she know that’s my ideal scenario. Honestly she can try to steal Liam away, I’m not going to stop her.

Drake and I stop outside my door. “I guess I should try to get some sleep,” I say, and he nods. My tongue darts out to wet my lips nervously. “Do you want to come in?” I ask, my stomach bubbling with nerves. Drake looks down at me, a heat in his eyes. “I really shouldn’t Alana,” He says, and I nod. I bite my lip, thinking about how out-of-hand we could get. Probably not the best idea. “Okay then, goodnight,” I say, giving him a quick hug. He hugs back, kissing my cheek lightly, making my face heat up. He makes me feel like a schoolgirl, blushing over my crush kissing my cheek. So stupid. “Goodnight Your Highness,” he whispers, making me take in a sharp breath. He is really making this hard for me.

He releases me from the hug, leaning back, a satisfied grin on his face. I huff. “G-Goodnight,” I say, turning and going into my room, the stupid blush never leaving my face.

I change out of my dress and into pajamas and flop onto my bed, thinking about earlier. I‘m so frustrated that I actually believed my manipulative mother for so long. I feel like I betrayed him by believing her, but he believed her too I guess. I stare at the pale blue ceiling above me, thinking about the kiss. God, the way he pulled me closer. He has to know what he does to me. It’s honestly unfair at this point.

I naw at my bottom lip, butterflies fluttering inside me. I glance over to the door and see the edge of his shadow outside my door. My heart warms at the thought of being so close to him again. Before long, I drift off to sleep.

—-

I glance around, watching as everyone dances. The warm lights glow pleasantly, the music muffled, but nice. I smile as I see Max and Allie together, laughing. A feeling of warmth radiates through my body. I glance over and see Drake, smiling over at me. A strange feeling of familiarity falls over me slowly. Wait... This is the coronation ball, oh no.Suddenly, the warm lights go out. The ball is dark and suddenly a horrible cold feeling washes over me. I know what’s coming. No! I have to warn them! I try to scream, try to warn everyone to get down, but nothing will come out. I look down and see myself chained to a post, and feel the duck tape on my mouth.

The lights turn on again, and the assassins don’t hesitate opening fire on everyone. I scream as their bodies fall over, fighting with everything in me to be free, to help them. One near me turns, and aims and Drake. “No!” I try to say, nothing coming out. Drake just looks over at me in fear and then the assassin shoots him, making him collapse. I scream, thrashing against the binds, and suddenly, I’m in my room, and Drake is by my side, holding onto my shoulders, clearly concerned. I let out the largest sigh of relief, throwing my arms around him tightly. Tears fall out of my eyes and my shoulders shake as I sob in his arms. He holds me tightly, His body warmth calming me down. He just keeps whispering softly “it’s okay, you’ll be alright,” as I cry.

As soon as I start to calm down, I let go of my death grip on him, leaning back. “Are you alright?” He asks, deeply concerned. I sigh, calming my nerves. “Y-yes, I am now. Sorry since the ball I’ve had these horrible dreams...” I trail off, stopping before I cry again. He reaches out, brushing my hair from my face. “It’s okay, you don’t need to apologize to me, I know nightmares better than anyone,” He says, and I nod, remembering that night when I found him in his bed, screaming in his sleep. “I had no idea you had them now,” He says sadly, looking into my eyes. “Yeah, um- if I’m being honest, I’ve been a hot mess since the ball and then my ‘surprise engagement’,” I say bitterly, fumbling with my hands in my lap.

Drake rests his hand on mine, making me stop, looking up at him. “That makes two of us,” He says gently. My heart breaks thinking about Drake being just as heart-broken as me. “At least we’re in this together, right?” I say, and he nods, a small smile on his face. “Always.”

He stays by my side until I fall asleep.

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

-end-

I’m back! I know there’s a lot of crazy thing going on in the world right now which is horrible, but hopefully it will bring change with it! How did you guys like the first part? I love to hear your feedback ;) Thank you all for your support over the years now (crazy!) for this fic! It’s honesty hard for me to read earlier chapters, I feel like I’ve changed so much since the beginning haha. Anyway, I know this wasn’t the best part, but there are so many more exciting things I have planned! Again, thank you all for your support, if it wasn’t for all your kind words I would not have gotten so far! Love you all!

-Ella xx

#tnrr #The Non-Royal Romance #season two #part one #trr #the royal romance #choices #choices fanfiction #choices trr #mc x drake #drake walker #alana rhys #sorry liam #the non royal romance #playchoices fics #choices stories you play

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alpaca-writes · 4 years ago

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Mystics, Chapter 11

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem Nomadus, everything seems to be going well- in fact, their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems….

Directory: [chapter one] [chapter two] [chapter three] [chapter four] [chapter five] [chapter six] [chapter seven] [chapter eight] [chapter nine] [chapter ten]

Tag list: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump (let me know if you want to be removed)

CW: claustrophobia, getting lost, deadname use, bullying, noncon touching (nonsexual), knife whump, torture, flaying.

-----

CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE PAST IS SPENT AND DONE WITH

“What a fucking freak,” Marcus sneered. The jeering of all three kids bounced off the brick walls as they left Mystics alone for the rest of the evening.

“How much was there?” Jess tugged at his arm, breaking away from Kyle to do so. “I have my eye on one of those Kate Spade purses”-

“Definitely not enough for a Kate Spade here,” Marcus sniffed. He twitched flicked his head to the side, sweeping strawberry blond curls off to one side. He’d repeat the process in another minute.

Jess pouted her lips at Kyle who peered back with a scowl.

“I’m not spending my third on that,” he refused. “I’d rather lift one”-

“Oh, but they’re all mag-tagged,” she explained. “Can’t lift one without setting off the alarms”-

Marcus stopped at the corner looking at a silhouette standing there, not moving. The rest of the streets were empty.

“Maybe we should cross,” he said.

“Nah, he’s just some old homeless guy.” Kyle muttered. “Why would he care”-

“I care! If ----- decides to snitch, then all they need is another witness. My rep will be ruined,” Marcus said emphatically. He flipped his head again. “Then that’s that, No college hockey for me. It only takes a little more than an accusation these days and I’m out.”

“There are cameras across the street,” Jess pointed out. “Let’s take the alleys.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. In the short time the three had bickered about which way to go, the man at the corner had disappeared again. The other two had already decided to head down the alleys, almost leaving Kyle behind in the decision.

They turned at the end of the alley where they were met with a T and a brick wall. They turned right.

There was another T intersection, and again, the three were met with a brick wall. Marcus shrugged, and turned left. Eventually they would reach the edge of seventeenth street.

Brick wall.

“What the…” Marcus mouthed to himself. Jess laughed breathily at him as he tried to understand where he needed to go.

“Just forget it, we’ll take the road, you dummy,” she exclaimed, thoroughly entertained by him.

She turned right.

At the end of that alley, there was yet again another brick wall.

“Wait,” she huffed. Looking down either end of the alleys, they only saw darknesses lying there.

Kyle chuckled, “Oh yeah, you guys remember that screen saver on those old Microsoft computers?”

Marcus hardly heard him. Like, Jess, he was now extremely confused.

Kyle continued, “like those old brick wall mazes that it would send you through and… wait… did they ever end? I can’t remember if they ended”-

“Nobody cares, Ky,” Marcus said abruptly. “Let’s turn around.”

“You don’t like it here?”

“Holy fuck,” Kyle exclaimed, while all three of them jumped out of their skin. A man in a simple button up shirt stood to address them. He was standing about ten feet away.

Marcus started first.

“Uh, hey, man. We’re just trying to find our way back to the road. Could you tell us where to go?”

The man looked as though he was pondering the answer for a moment.

“The road?” Lyrem tapped his chin. “No, I don’t know of any roads here.”

Marcus feigned a grin, “you’re funny. That’s… that’s very funny.”

Pulling Jess by the hand, he led her past the man. Jess pulled Kyle, and Lyrem simply looked on as they went by.

“Just ignore him,” Marcus advised, whispering.

They turned left, back the way they came, and then right, only to see the same man standing in front of them again.

“Okay, seriously, what the fuck is happening?” Jess questioned in a mild panic.

“I know!” Lyrem exclaimed excitedly. He approached them, regarding the walls proudly with his hands behind his back. “It’s almost as bad as the Musei Vaticani, isn’t it?”

“What is he saying?” Kyle whispered to the others.

“I dunno! I don’t speak Spanish,” Marcus hissed back.

“Guys, he’s coming closer.” Jess interrupted.

“Now, now,” Lyrem tutted to them, smiling. “I was hoping you three would split up by now. It’s much easier to transport you separately-

-Oh dear… Odd question, do I sound like a human trafficker to you?”

They didn’t answer him. Jess backed away to hide behind the two boys.

“Arch always tells me I sound rather… disturbing. I’m beginning to wonder if they might be right…”

“Arch?” Marcus spit.

Lyrem nodded. His face lit up with a sudden realization. Remembering why he was there, he held out his hand.

“I would like to take back what was stolen from Mystics, if you don’t mind.”

Marcus swallowed his fear. He reached into his back pocket, pulling out the wad of paper bills.

“Yeah, here, take it. Look, I- I am sorry for what we… what we did.” Marcus stammered forcefully. There was already too much trouble to deal with for a few measly hundred dollars. Lyrem snatched it away with a quick hand.

Lyrem paid him no attention as he counted the cas, regularly licking his thumb as he did so. At the end of the apology, and the count, he sighed. Looking back at the boys with his brow raised. It seems as though Jess had already left them behind.

“I appreciate it. Honesty is quite a rare thing to find in children these days,” he answered them, placing the cash in his back pocket.

Kyle turned around, noticing the absence of the thin fingers with long black nails that usually brushed up against his own. He looked over his shoulder.

“Where’s Jess?”

Marcus turned. Seeing nothing but bricks and Kyle, he shook his head and shrugged.

“I’m sure you’ll see her again soon.” Lyrem assured. “Well, this is all I came back for, so I think I will be on my way now.”

Lyrem turned his back on the boys, and strolled off further into the alley.

“Hey,” Marcus hollered. He chased after Lyrem like he was a life line. “We’ll follow you out”-

The man was gone. He entered the darkness through a doorway the others couldn’t see.

“Ky, I think he’s gone now, we need to find Jess and- Ky?”

There was no answer. Marcus spun in several circles before resorting to accept that Kyle had left him behind.

He ran to the other end of the alley, finding nothing but a brick wall again. In frustrated panic, he slammed his fists against it, as though he imagined it to be a door. It was just red brick; solid and rough against his skin. There was no left or right turn here; the corners were engulfed in shadows. He turned around-

Brick wall.

He was boxed in. Alone.

What little light existed above him before slowly dimmed to nothing. Feeling the weight of the walls grow in closer to him, Marcus curled in on himself. Lyrem didn’t lie about him finding Jess again soon. She would awake beside him after he was finished carrying their boxes into the back room- an hour or so before the three of them had entered Mystics.

------

Week One.

“Keep your eyes closed.”

Arch stood in the back alley of Mystics. Lyrem had asked them to close early so that he could show them a surprise in the back- a new, very valuable item that he was extremely excited to show off. He was insistent that Arch be the first to see it. Reluctantly, but albeit curiously, Arch did as they were told and closed their eyes. They heard the backroom door open with a hydraulic groan. Lyrem reached out to their hands to lead them through carefully.

“Alright, now this will be an odd request, but I also need you to hold your breath until I say it’s alright.”

Arch exhaled in a chuckle. “What?”

“Promise me, Arch.” Lyrem didn’t sound quite as amused.

“Alright, alright, I promise. I won’t breathe, and I won’t open my eyes until you say so.”

“Okay, here we go,” Lyrem pulled them forward until they were over the threshold. They led them through a few further steps… The labyrinth was inactive. That was good. It meant that neither of them had broken the rules. He heard the door shut. “You can breathe and open your eyes now.”

There was a clapping sound from Lyrem’s hands. Arch was almost expecting a surprise party for themselves as they opened their eyes. Disappointed, they saw the plain grey walls of a large backroom warehouse instead. Poorly lit as it was, there were a couple spare tables, several chairs and multiple rows of shelving filled with variously sized boxes and random objects.

“What was the point of that?” Arch looked back at the door.

“It’s keeps you from being pulled into the wrong… room.” Lyrem said. “This door leads to more than just here and the alley way. There’s a third place it can lead, and it’s impossible to find the way out from it.”

Arch looked at them with raised brows. Then they looked concerned, furrowing them, they produced a couple wrinkles above the bridge of their nose.

“Do you need me to get you a glass of water, or something?” There must have been some kind of medication that Lyrem needed to prevent certain… strangenesses from evolving. Arch thought perhaps that duty had lived and left with his wife Maria. They wouldn’t mind picking up the responsibility if it meant that Lyrem could maintain his sanity- but he had to tell them what he needed first.

“No, no.” he refused. “Actually, I need your hand, if you please.”

Arch’s eyes widened. “My hand?”

Lyrem nodded. Arch lifted their right hand. Lyrem asked for the opposite.

Arch lifted their left instead; a fresh red scar about an inch in length on display.

Lyrem held one hand on a knife unsheathed from his pocket, hidden behind his back. He met Arch’s confused gaze with an apologetic smile.

“Memorias reditus,” he said. Gripping Arch’s hand tightly, he sliced the blade into their scar, fresh blood dripped to the floor as they cried out angrily and in shock. Arch pulled their hand back, cradling it with the other.

“Fucking hell, Lyrem!”

“Apologies, Arch. It is a necessary deed, I’m afraid.” Lyrem shrugged, and wiped down the knife on a stray piece of fabric.

Arch grimaced and checked their hand over. The cut was deep and very sore- throbbing with their pulse. Lyrem had reopened a wound on them that was still healing over. Arch looked at him, still convinced that Lyrem was well and truly off his rocker in a dangerous way. He was leaning his hip against a metal table, waiting for a reaction from them.

“I... I think I need stitches, Lyrem. Look, I know that things have been difficult for you since Maria left so I’ll tell people this was a work accident. But… y-you can’t just cut people like”-

Arch stopped, then moved their gaze from watching Lyrem’s smirking grin to a darker corner. There was movement over there.

“Wait...” Arch’s face twisted into mess of confusion. “Wait, what’s… what’s happening to me? What did you do?”

They were lost in a recollection of events; events from a week ago. Lyrem kindly allowed them the time…

“Do you need help with any of that?”

“Oh! No- no, I’ll be alright. These are just… going into the back room for now… You should keep an eye on the store, don’t want anyone walking in to take our merchandise,”

The back door to Mystics clicked shut.

“It’s alright, you’re gone now.” Lyrem ushered Arch from around the corner. They were still nursing the side of their face where Marcus had hit them… Well, he hadn’t yet. Not really.

Arch would help Lyrem carry each of the large boxes into the back room. The beings inside were unconscious, lost in their own created darkness.

“Close your eyes and hold your breath, Arch.”

With a little further convincing, Lyrem and Arch stepped through with each of the boxes without triggering the Labyrinth to appear.

When they were inside, Lyrem had Arch help with piling the boxes into the darkest corner of the room near a plain wall.

Panting from the work, Lyrem smiled at Arch delightfully as he leaned against the boxes with his elbow.

“What… What do we do with them now?” They asked.

Lyrem sniffed and looked the boxes up and down, and then wiped some stray beads of sweat from his forehead.

“I’ll set up the wall, drill some holes for their chains and then you’ll be able to do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?”

Lyrem nodded.

“How long will it take to set up the wall?”

“Bit eager, aren’t you?”

Arch shifted awkwardly at the comment, but Lyrem laughed it off.

“Give me a day,” he answered. “Can you give me a day?”

Arch rolled their eyes. “Yeah, I can give you a day.”

Lyrem smiled. “Wonderful.”

Arch returned to the present with a shudder.

“You returned my memories,” they commented. “And it’s been longer than a day, it’s been a week at least! What took you so long?”

“I had a delivery,” Lyrem said simply, lifting himself off the table; pleased with their reaction to the memories they regained. If there was any more of a defense he wished to provide, he omitted it. He gathered a roll of thin white gauze from a cabinet against the wall and a bottle of rubbing alcohol, setting it in front of Arch at the table

“Oh,” Arch realized apologetically. “Did it work out?”

Lyrem poured the alcohol onto their hand. Arch winced in silent agony and then they began to wrap their own hand carefully as Lyrem answered their question.

“Unfortunately, not. I quite despised having to use an infernal spell on fakes. It wasted so much time- and energy.” Lyrem began, “The deliverer was none the wiser either. I venture to guess that their client was unaware of the fact they were given a fake as well. But in my line of work, I am the one who takes the blame if an object is not vetted perfectly. A single flaw could incur a wrath I would not want to live to see.”

Arch nodded, assuming to understand. They tied off their hand and followed their boss across the backroom.

Arch gulped as they approached the wall, and stopped, before getting too close. The alarm bells rang loud and clear in their mind even as they saw the boys’ legs against the ground and their torsos set against the concrete; their arms supported by the chains that held them there. Their heads were covered in black cloth bags. They weren’t moving. They could be asleep. Or dead. Arch wouldn’t know the difference from where they stood. Lyrem continued on for several steps before realizing that they had stopped in place. He noted the look on Arch’s face. One of fear. One of hesitation. Lyrem stepped beside them and planted a strong hand on their shoulder.

With a crooked finger, he lifted Arch’s chin. Successfully, he broke their gaze from the bodies on the floor to stare into his hazel eyes instead. He could feel them trembling and a pitiful expression threatened to ruin the gentle moment between them. He replaced it with a stern calmness.

“They cannot hurt you any longer,” he said. “You are in control now.”

Arch wondered for a fleeting moment if they truly were in control. Perhaps Lyrem was intent on getting off on their transition to the dark side, or perhaps he was trying simply to be supportive. Either way, Arch forgot that internal debate the moment Lyrem handed them the jeweled blade. They grasped it tightly, just to say hello.

Week Two.

“Bring it up carefully, now.”

“He’s crying, Lyrem.”

“It’s just water on his face. That’s all.”

“Like this?”

“Yes. Now, bring it back... and angle the blade more flatly against his arm... Lovely.”

Arch gulped, and did as they were told, trying to ignore the whimpering screams that were emitting from Kyle through their cloth gag as they cut into his forearm. Lyrem had strapped it down to a table and chained the rest of the boy to a chair bolted into the floor. His blood was pooling. Arch had rolled up their sleeves to keep the blood off of their clothes. They would have to remember to bring an apron for the next time and other sessions.

Arch paused and lifted the blade away; scratching the side of their face, as a bit of acne there had been bugging them for the last couple days. Adults said it would start to go away at some point as they grew older. Arch stopped believing that over a year ago; convinced it would never really go away.

“Arch? More flat, please.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Good,” Lyrem praised. “Now, you’ll need two hands. One to hold the skin, and the other to push the blade through.”

Arch broke their eye contact from Kyle’s arm to look at how he, their victim, had been reacting to the practice flaying. That was a mistake. They couldn’t tear their eyes from the sight. The pleading blue eyes, the fear in them... Arch gulped again. All that guilt threatened to rise up, wanting to revolt against the torturous act that their own body was performing.

“Breathe.” Lyrem reminded them.

“I can’t… I can’t…” Arch placed the blade back down on the table. They blinked, and took the opportunity to pull their eyes away from their victim.

“Would it be easier if I covered his face for you? I’m sure I have a sheet or something around here somewhere”-

Lyrem stood from his seat and toured his own expansive back room, searching the shelves for anything that could be quickly draped over Kyle’s head. Arch stood as well, backing themselves away from the table, they shook their head.

“I don’t think I want to continue this tonight,” They admitted.

“Oh, please don’t quit now, Arch. You went twice as far with him last week,” Lyrem reminded them as he still searched. “I don’t want you to leave here without doing a little more than you did before.”

“It was easier then. I was still mad that they hit me. That they stole from you.” Arch explained. They looked to the wall, and noticed the absence of one of their dreaded classmates. “By the way, where did Jess go? She was there that night too.”

Lyrem approached them with something dark and folded neatly in his hand.

“Ah, yes. The fabled Jess unfortunately had to be sacrificed for the greater good. My unique hospitality was a short-lived experience for her,” he smiled slightly as the realization of a pun crossed his mind. “You asked that question last time you were here as well, you know.”

“Everything’s still sort of jumbled in my head,” Arch clarified. “I think, when you lifted the spell, it revealed feelings more than specific memories…”

Lyrem lifted a brow, and settled himself against the end of the table. “That is an interesting review of the experience. Eventually, my memory spells will lose their effect on you. You’ll begin to remember this place, everything you’ve done without the spell needing to be lifted each time.”

“How long until then?”

“It will happen when you are ready. I can’t be sure, honestly.” Lyrem admitted. “Until then, you can maintain your daytime innocence. I am sure it’s better that way.”

Arch looked down at their own hand where a deep red mark was scored into them. Lyrem would scar it over for them before they left again- a minor healing that would also remove the memories of what was happening in the backroom- but only temporarily.

“I would have liked to say goodbye to her,” Arch said absently as they toyed with the edge of the blade against their thumb. They lifted their gaze, catching their employer’s eye. Lyrem looked interested enough for them to explain their offhanded comment. He prompted them to continue with a caring nod.

“We were close growing up. Used to be neighbours, actually. Then she moved. She changed in Junior High and started picking on me when everyone else would. While I was still a tomboy, she became “Barbie girl” and then in High School she met this asshole. But… the rest is just history, right?”

“’The past is spent and done with, and the future is uncertain’,” Lyrem quoted. “’Every man’s life lies within the present.’”

Arch approached the table once more and sat in their chair to resume their work.

“Sometimes,” Arch began slowly flaying the skin away, as Kyle’s screams threatened to drown out their words. “you say things as though they are wise things… But, really, you’re just basic.”

Lyrem placed the folded cloth neatly on the table without another word. Arch clearly didn’t need it quite as much as he assumed they did. He sat across from them, watching intently as another one of Kyle’s layers of skin peeled neatly away from the prison of his body, and wondered how much longer Arch would continue to do as they were asked.

#torture #whump #whumpblr #writeblr #writing #Alpaca writes #whump blog #Mystics by Alpaca #creative writing #mystics #whump writing #writing blog #whump stuff #tw torture #tw claustrophobic #Lyrem #Arch #tw bullying #noncon touching

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soloredeemed · 4 years ago

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@kylowithazukoarc

Drabble idea: Modern AU Ben has a motorcycle with that classic helmet of his and Rey is a mechanic. He is stopping by the shop she works out claiming his bike needs repairs.

Thank you so much for the prompt! This one was going to start out all badassy but it ended up just being unbelievably soft! If you requested a drabble from me, I am slowly but surely working my way through the prompts!

You can read the work here on AO3 or under the cut :)

Bad Introductions

Rey had seen her fair share of lowlifes and weirdos during her time at Plutt’s auto shop, but the guy outside of the storeroom window definitely took the cake. Rey had just been getting a part from the backroom when she turned and saw the sun glint off of his black helmet. A very strange, black helmet that looked more like a mask than anything else. Thin red lines ran through it like spiderweb cracks. Rey thought it looked familiar, like she had seen him drive by a couple of times, but she couldn’t be sure. She wasn’t usually one to stare, but the sheer curiosity of who might be hiding underneath said helmet caused her to hold her line of sight longer than was perhaps strictly necessary.

He was tall, that was easy enough to tell as he dismounted his bike and shrugged. Rey could almost see the urge to kick the thing over being suppressed in the tight line of his shoulders and stiffness in his muscles. He was broad, very broad, not unusual for a biker, but the sight of his black leather jacket drawn tight across his back made her stomach flip over. He was wearing all black, in fact—again not unusual for the type. A black band-T and a pair of worn jeans. She could barely make out the tattoos that peaked out from under the cuffs of his jacket and up his neck, but the linework was unmistakably present. Then the man reached up with his hands—his huge hands—to pull the monstrosity of a helmet from his head. The thing couldn’t be road safe, but the man clearly didn’t care. Rey wondered vaguely if he could even see out of the thing—the eye holes practically a slit across the face of the mask.

As he turned, he met her eyes through the window, and Rey gulped audibly. She felt too exposed under his scrutiny in her messy set of buns and blue overalls. Every single grease stain on full display. Finn, who hadn’t noticed her gawking, suddenly looked up from his place at the counter.

“You alright?”

Rey waved him off with a swish of her hand, eyes still locked on the man outside. Somehow it didn’t surprise her that his hair was dark like the rest of him. It made his freckled skin seem even paler than it probably was up close. The rest of his features were equally stark—the sharp line of his jaw, the crook in his long nose. His eyes, however, looked almost amber against the sunlight, like warm honey, and there was a sweetness in them as he stared back at her. They seemed to betray him, really, refusing to match the rest of him. They made him appear almost gentle. And then he turned, no longer in a partial profile so that she could see all of them, and that’s when she noticed the scar.

Her mouth gaped slightly at it—a harsh, angry thing that pushed down his right cheek and disappeared under his collar. The man frowned, squared his jaw, and broke her gaze before pushing his way inside.

“My bike is making a sound,” the man said as he burst in, not once looking at her and instead addressing Finn. There was metal in the edge of his voice, “I need someone to fix it.”

“Right, well do you know what might be wrong with it?” Finn asked, voice even despite the demand.

“Isn’t that your fucking job?” Mr. Tall, Dark and Broody growled back, and Rey’s brows dipped in confusion. He had seemed gentle, almost kind when he had looked at her before, despite all of the dark bravado suggesting otherwise, and now—well now he was being a dick.

“Actually, I just man the counter—” Finn had started, but Rey took a brave step forward, cutting her friend off with a look.

“Actually, it’s my fucking job,” she shot back, “now how can I help you, Mr.—”

“Solo,” the man answered, voice rough, “I need someone to fix my damn bike.”

“Right, just bring it around back and I’ll see what I can do for you,” Rey did her best to plaster on her brightest and fakest customer service smile despite his rudeness. She thought she almost saw his lips twitch up in return, but she was probably mistaken. Rey stood and watched him retrieve his bike from the front before meeting him in the garage.

“Dick,” Finn whispered harshly as she went. Rey stifled a laugh.

“You said it was making a sound?” She asked Solo as he rolled the bike through the open garage door.

“Yeah like a uh—a clanging?” He offered.

“Was that an answer or a question?” Rey shot back, kneeling down to inspect the motor.

“It was a—”

“I’m just screwing with you, Solo,” Rey smiled. She looked up in time to see his face flush slightly. The thought did funny things to her insides.

“Oh, yeah, okay,” he mumbled in return. Now he seemed almost embarrassed, which was a full 180 from his demeanor only a few moments before. He was an enigma, really, a puzzle she just couldn’t figure out.

“Why don’t we start it up, and see how it sounds?” Rey suggested, a little less frustrated with him now and a little more confused.

Solo nodded, swinging one long leg over the bike and revving the engine.

Rey listened for a moment but couldn’t detect any clanging. She looked at the dials—nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She hummed softly as she motioned for the man to turn it off.

“There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with it,” Rey informed him, and the man looked at her sheepishly.

“No?”

“Nothing. Whatever sound you heard, it isn’t making that noise now, and there doesn’t seem to be any off readings. I’d say you’re good to go!” Rey told him.

He nodded quietly, before rubbing the back of his neck with an open palm. “Alright then.” He turned to leave.

Rey wasn’t sure what made her speak next, but she found the words leaving her mouth before she could stop them, “Maybe get a new helmet though!” Rey called after him, “that thing looks like a death trap!”

“It was,” the man shrugged, motioning to the side of his face. Rey tried not to flinch at the image that flashed in her mind, “saved my life anyways.” The softness was back in his eyes again, bleeding into his voice as well. “I thought I-a. I thought I caught you staring at it, earlier. It’s kind of a sore spot for me, ya know? I’m sorry if I was an ass. I’d apologize to the guy at the desk but uh, I’d probably find a way to fuck that up too,” he admitted lamely.

“I’m sorry—” Rey started, because it wasn’t wrong, she had been staring, but the man only shook his head.

“I didn’t really—my bike wasn’t really broken. I’ve driven past this place every day for a week to see if you were working. I only today got up the nerve to come inside. I even considered trashing the bike myself just to have a real excuse,” he said quietly. And oh, for all of the tall and dark and broody. For all of the tattoos and scars and black everything, he looked so hopeful now, staring down at her softly but not quite meeting her eyes.

“Why would you do something like that?” Rey breathed, but she already knew the answer.

“I just had to introduce myself to you. Ben,” he said, holding out one of his large, pale hands.

“Rey,” she said in return, wrapping her small fingers around his own.

“That seems to fit, somehow,” Ben smiled, lips twitching upward into a full grin. “Well Rey, would you do me the honor of dinner sometime?”

He didn’t even really have to ask.

#Ben Solo #Rey #Reylo #Kylo Ren #Ask #Drabble #my drabble #my drabbles #mine #biker!ben #mechanic!rey

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yikeswtfmate · 5 years ago

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Saccharine

Summary: Bucky is trying to cook again and Y/N is afraid he will starve to death one of these days. Surely, no one can eat something that smells this horrifying?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x you

Warnings: swearing; a small sexual innuendo?; alcohol consumption; that’s it?

A/N: Based on the prompt My neighbour’s at my door, asking if everything’s alright, because it smells like something is burning, and I was only trying to cook for once and this is embarrassing but they decide to help me fix this mess although I’ve changed it a bit

Feels a bit rushed to the end imo, but this is what happens when I’m getting super excited about another idea and I can’t think about anything else

masterlist

There’s a distinct smell of burnt onions in the kitchen. I can smell it even from my place on the sofa, distracting me from my phone enough to raise my nose into the air and take a lungful of what now seems to be…rotten eggs? I wouldn’t be so confused if it weren’t for the fact that no one is currently cooking in my kitchen but as I make my way to the open window, I can bet good money that my neighbour is trying to cook again. It’s the third time this week that I’m wondering whether that long-haired handsome man is actually a vulture, coyote or freak of nature because how can someone eat something that smells so vile? His only redemption is that I know thanks to the impossibly thin walls of the building that these cooking endeavours inevitably end up in him ordering takeout after a couple of hours of cursing and what must only be whatever he’s been trying to make dumped into the bin.

This is it, I think. There is literally no possibility that a human being can survive on takeout alone. I go to the bathroom and make myself presentable, because let’s face it, I’m not going to face that pretty man looking like I’ve just hibernated for a week (which I have, but he doesn’t need to know that), put on a pair of slippers and with a long inhale get out of my apartment. In front of his door, I shift my weight from one foot to the other, now my exasperation at his culinary inabilities suddenly vanishing in the face of uncertainty. What if he’ll think I’m rude? What if he has someone over and I’m interrupting? What if he’ll think I’m weird? We’ve never spoken before after all, with the exception of the nods of acknowledgement in the mornings when we would occasionally meet.

As I ponder my decision, there are more curses flowing over the sound of sizzling. Fuck it, this man needs my help or he’ll starve. I knock on his door, waiting for a few seconds after I hear a shouted “coming.” The door flies open and my neighbour, this beautiful specimen of a man, is surrounded by steam and the smell of…does he have a wet dog inside the house? His hair must have been tied at the back, but now long strands are stuck to his sweaty forehead. He brings a hand to his face, wiping away at a red streak, only to be replaced by a black smudge. The kitchen towel he’s holding is dripping with something orange and the sleeve on his other arm is scorched. Has he been trying to cook an armchair?

“Hi. I know this might sound weird, but are you trying to cook?”

“Uh…Yeah. I’m failing miserably, as you can see.” He says with a frown, moving away from the door so I can look inside his apartment, which is now starting to fill with smoke.

“Uh – I think you might want to take off whatever you have on the stove now or the fire alarm will start going off soon.” I advise and with bulging eyes, he just turns around and runs toward the kitchen.

He leaves the door open so I take that as an invitation to come in and close it, just so I can spare the rest of our neighbours from the appalling smell. Following him, I inspect the damage and I can say hand on my heart that I have never in my entire life seen such damage. I let him take the pan off the stove and into the sink, although I should warn him that it’s probably not a good idea to pour cold water onto boiling oil, but I’m not even sure that is oil. I find some paper towels and wipe the cracked eggs off the counter and into a bowl that is full of skinned…peppers? I throw that away after I locate the bin, take a wet washcloth and clean the kitchen island, which is full of burnt meat, I’ll presume. As I inspect a purple sphere surrounded by slices of cucumber on a plate, there’s a grunt in front of me on the other side of the island and I look up with a consoling smile.

“This looks worse than it actually is.” He says.

“Well, it certainly looks better than it smells.”

“That bad, huh?” He scratches the back of his neck and extends a hand after he wipes it on his jeans that are actually covered in flour. “I’m Bucky by the way. I’ve never had the chance to introduce myself.”

“Y/N.” I shake his hand, noticing the rough skin – definitely not a cook then. At least I’ve established he’s not poisoning anyone else. “What were you trying to make anyway?”

“My friend Natalia gave me this Russian recipe for pirozhki, but I’ve just realised that she’s a worse cook than me so I should’ve never trusted her.”

He takes a sit with a grunt and a shake of his head. He offers me the chair next to him, reaching over an opened bottle of wine that was sitting on the island, next to a few mismatched glasses. I grab two, letting him fill them to the brim. It’s one of those nights, apparently.

“I’m pretty sure pirozhki are made with cabbage not…is that hummous?” I frown at yet another plate with an unnamed content that has started to get a green tint.

“It’s alright, I’m used to the cheap noodles by now.” He shrugs and takes a sip of his drink.

“Tell you what.” I say, now more emboldened by the wine. “I’ll whip up some pasta so you can enjoy some homemade food tonight and I can have some company on this fine Friday evening. What do you say?”

Bucky shifts in his chair to look at me with a confused expression that slowly turns into a soft smile. It suits him so well, rough edges becoming sweet, his eyes suddenly my only focus. It cuts the air out of my lungs, and if I were younger, I would’ve blushed to the roots of my hair. It still manages to make me tighten my grip on the tall glass I am holding.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I insist.”

“I don’t have any spaghetti though.” He says, still smiling, still looking directly into my eyes.

“Oh, I’m not going to cook in here, honey. This whole kitchen needs to be decontaminated, sterilised and cleansed with holy water.”

He laughs, which would have knocked me off my feet if I were standing. It seems this man can be very unhealthy for my state of mind, legs and lungs. With a chuckle he asks me to lead the way, bottle of wine in his hand and we’re now in my kitchen, a place I would have never seen him in in a million years. Maybe in some scattered fantasies, fleeting moments when I remember the broad line of his shoulders right before I fall asleep or the shape of his thighs in that particular pair of jeans he sometimes wears when he’s downstairs checking for his post.

“In my defence, I never had to cook for myself. After I moved to college, Steve would be the one cooking all the time and let me tell you, he did not like it if people meddled with his sauces.” He tells me two hours later after we’ve finished our bowls of pasta and we’re now sitting on the sofa, legs stretched on the coffee table and the tv turned on just for background noise.

“I don’t know, Buck. It’s kind of embarrassing not knowing how to at least make an omelette.” I laugh as he pours what is probably my third glass of wine.

“Now listen here, missy. I ain’t French and I do know how to do one thing.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“I know how to pour milk over my cereal.” He says with a serious face. I burst out laughing, dropping the spoon I was holding directly on my t-shirt.

“I’ll tell you something though.” He offers me a napkin from the table, and I try to focus on wiping the chocolate cream off, but I’m suddenly seeing double and everything is ten times funnier, although to be fair, Bucky turned out to be the best company I’ve had in a long time. “I’ve never eaten so well in a whole ass time. But don’t tell Steve that or he’ll rip one of my arms out.”

“I’m sure everything is better than boiled leather, Bucky.” I smile.

“Nuh-uh. The pasta was divine. And this cake…Y/N, I’ll have to marry you just so I can eat this for the rest of my life.”

I bump my shoulder with his, but there is a feeling that I’m not sure I want to ignore. He’s been sweet all night, complimenting the food, which to be fair, in my eyes is not only the way to a man’s heart, but to mine as well. He’s making my heart sticky, a syrup running through veins with viscous sugar and honey, and he’s candy-coated, teeth-rotting saccharine.

Bucky knocks on my door the next day, a lazy Saturday that I’ve spent baking cookies and reading a novel that’s been twisting my gut with want. When my eyes meet his, my legs involuntarily twitch, scenes replaying in my head, but the smile I offer in return is nothing but genuine.

“I smell something delicious.” He says instead of a greeting.

I let him in, pouring him a bowl of soup after he reluctantly admits he only ate an apple the whole day. He protests at first, claiming that he only wanted a cookie, but ends up asking for seconds and finishing an entire batch of raspberry filled cookies.

Three hours later, I’m somehow curled up into his side, watching The Office because he committed the heinous crime of never having watched it. He absently curls a strand of my hair around his finger and I’m drifting asleep, wrapped in a cocoon of powdered sugar.

“You’re making me fat.” He says, around a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

“Excuse you, James. You’re making me an alcoholic.” I retaliate, raising yet another glass of wine.

Bucky is sitting in my kitchen, eating my food, as he’s been doing for nearly every evening for the last four months. We’ve fallen into a strange routine, where he’s just drop by, claiming he smelled “something delicious” on his way in after work and I’d just learned to cook dinner for two without questions. I got so used to spending this time with him, that whenever he’d text he won’t be joining me, it would feel off, somehow unbalanced without him on the other side of the table.

I watch him as he moves around the kitchen with ease, putting the empty dishes in the sink, cutting two slices of cheesecake, pouring me another glass of wine. It felt strange having him in my apartment at first, but now it’s just normal, easy, sweet. He takes the plates with the dessert to the coffee table, and I join him in the living room. He’s already dug into his slice, unholy moans escaping his lips, and I just purse mine. Sometimes I wonder if he does it on purpose.

“Stop judging me, this is heavenly.”

“I’m not judging you, I think you’re an idiot.” I laugh. “It’s just a cheesecake. And I’ve made this before.”

“It’s not just a cheesecake. It is the most marvellous thing ever. It is transcendental.”

“Ok, I think you’ve had enough wine.”

We settle into comfortable silence as I turn on the tv and look through the selection of films that seems pretty slim at the moment, considering the amount of Netflix we’ve been consuming lately. Bucky shifts on the sofa next to me, clears his throat, closes his mouth after opening it to say something, rubs the back of his neck, picks at a piece of strawberry on his plate, turns to me, takes his hair out of its bun, fiddles with the band.

“Spit it out already.” I say, without even sparing him a glance. He does this sometimes, this little dance of his when he locks himself up and is unsure of how to voice whatever’s on his mind. I continue to look through the list of unwatched films, but I have a feeling I’ll just introduce him to Parks and Recreation tonight, because this man has apparently been living under a rock for the past century.

“My birthday’s coming up soon. I was wondering if you’d like to come? I’m not throwing a huge party, just a little get together with some friends over at my place. I’ll just buy some beer and order pizza, but I’d like you to be there as well.”

He’s looking at me expectantly, uncertainty clear in his voice, which is stupid because he could ask me anything and I’d do it without second thoughts by this point.

“Of course, you moron.” I say with a roll of my eyes. “I’ll be expecting my formal invitation in the mail though.”

It’s two weeks later and I am running so late. My mother insisted to have a girls’ day out, which I’ve tried getting out of, considering that a) I know my mother too well not to be aware that even dinners with her usually take decades to end, b) my very cute neighbour is expecting me to make an appearance at his birthday party, and most importantly, c) I haven’t seen him for three days already and I miss his smile more than anything. As the hours have been progressing, my fidgeting became worse, to the point that mum had enough of it and finally released me of my captivity, two hours later than I promised I’ll be there.

“That boy better be worth it.” She laughed, holding me in a hug as we were parting. “I hope you’re feeding him well.”

I am now faced with his closed door, voices and laughter interlacing in the apartment before me, and I suddenly feel very nervous, a reminder of the first time I knocked at Bucky’s door. I hope his friends like me, not only because I have been programmed since birth to need to be loved by everyone, but also because I gathered from all my conversations with Bucky that he holds his friends’ opinions in high regard. I better not fuck this up, I think and with a deep breath, I knock on the door.

Someone shouts after Bucky, and I can distinctly hear a commotion set into motion, that makes me wary. There are yells, a loud line of cursing, and the clatter of what must only be a shattered glass on the hard tile of the kitchen. The door opens and I’m greeted by a man who’s holding a bottle of beer and looks as if he’d just stepped out of a Fourth of July commercial.

“You must be Y/N. Come in.” Mister America says and lets me step in.

The first thing I see is Bucky being held in a headlock by another man who seems too happy to be sober or sorry that his friend can’t breathe at the moment. Bucky looks like he’s trying to fight against an eagle, flailing around like an overexcited puppy. I am standing in the middle of the hallway, trying to stifle the burst of laughter that is taking hold of me.

“Come on, Barnes, don’t be rude. Your girlfriend’s here and you won’t even say hi to her? Where are your manners? I thought you couldn’t wait to see her after you’ve been worried all night she won’t show up.” Bird Boy says.

I raise my eyebrows, but Stars and Stripes is the only one that can notice my reaction. “That’s Sam.” He says nodding to his wrestling friends. “You probably already know that their relationship is…intense. I’m Steve, by the way. We’ve all heard a lot about you.”

A hand slams onto Steve’s shoulder before I try to pry information out of him. Bucky seems to have broken free, Sam closely following him, and I’m now faced with three broad-shouldered men that could easily pass for the planet’s bodyguards. I extend the cake tin to Bucky and he takes it, looking at me with those huge eyes that would be more fit for a cartoon character.

“Did you bake something for me?” He asks incredulous.

“Figured you’re too much of a dumbass to order a cake, so…” I shrug.

Bucky gives Steve the tin, without even opening it, as I would have expected him to do. I worry at my bottom lip, thinking maybe I overstepped or that a bottle of wine would’ve been more fitting, when he literally swipes me off my feet in a hard embrace. He snuggles his face into my neck, tickling my cheek with strands of his hair, and I can clearly smell the alcohol on him. He’s drunk, I realise, which can only mean that he’s past the point of being funny, now he’s just going to downright say whatever’s on his mind.

“Easy there, tiger. You’re gonna break her spine.” I can hear a woman passing by saying, but it’s too muffled by Bucky’s entire display of affection to figure out whether that’s Natalia or not.

“You didn’t have to bake me a cake.” Bucky murmurs. “You are enough.”

“I wanted to, Buck. Happy birthday, honey.” I say when he finally lets go off me and I can stand on my own two feet again. He brushes his thumb over my cheek and looks at me for a long moment, until he takes my hand in his and drags me into the living room, where there are more people sitting on the sofa, on the armchairs, and even on the floor.

“Everyone, this is Y/N. She saved me from starvation, she is the love of my life, she has the softest hair that I’ve ever touched in my entire existence and if anyone lies a finger on her, they’ll be dead within the minute, just so you all jackasses know, so don’t try anything, Thor!” Bucky announces with a flourish of his hand.

There’s no time to process what he just said, as his guests start yelling their hellos and introduce themselves. I try to shake as many hands as possible, and even give hugs back when they’re offered, and I’m surprised to notice that it seems as if I already know all these people from Bucky’s stories.

A few hours later, I’m sitting next to Bucky on the floor of the living room, after being lured into playing a variation of Truth or Dare, that would make no sense for a sober person. There’s yelling, popcorn flying over heads when a dare is not deigned to be fulfilled, empty bottles scattered around the floor, and too many paper plates to count. I wonder fleetingly how much all of this will take to clean tomorrow morning and I make a mental note to offer my help, before a hand rests on my knee. I turn to look at Bucky, who seems unaware of his actions, his vision clearly hazy with alcohol, but I’ve also consumed enough to just enjoy it and not read too much into it. I lean my chin on his shoulder, which makes him cut his shout short and direct his attention to me. Our faces are a few inches away from each other, alcohol mixing from our breaths, pupils dilating in the dim light, and we sit there, looking at each other before a cushion comes flying right to our heads.

“Get a room!” Someone shouts and there’s an eruption of laughter, but no one else pays any attention to us anymore.

Bucky stands up and holds his hand out to me. I take it and follow him through the apartment without a word. He leads me to the fire escape, climbing out the window into the fresh cold air. With a shiver, I take the space between his legs, leaning my back on his chest and letting him warm me up with his arms. He’s the one to rest his chin on my shoulder now, and I play with his thumb, suddenly more sober than I was in the heated apartment, but I have to know, before my ounce of bravery is gone.

“Did you mean it?” I whisper, half wondering whether he’s too drunk to understand what I’m saying.

“What?”

“Back there. When you introduced me.”

“That you saved me from starvation? Well, yeah, did you forget I am completely useless in the kitchen?” He laughs.

“Not that.” But I really don’t want to give him any more clarifications.

“That you have the softest hair?” He murmurs into my ear, kissing my temple. “You do. That I’ll kill anyone who would even look wrong at you?” He kisses my cheek. “That you are the love of my life? I’m not a hundred percent sure about that, but I’m more than certain that I’ve never loved anyone the way that I already do you. And I haven’t even kissed you yet.”

The angle is strange, him towering over me although he’s only sitting a step above me, his arm wrapped around mine, while his other hand makes its way around my face, pulling it towards his. Strands of his hair fall over his eyes, but I can see the gentleness in them in the light pouring out from the kitchen. His nose brushes over my brow, breath ghosting over my skin until I close my eyes and his lips are like honey, melting like butter in a hot summer day. I feel syrup pouring over my soul, coating it in cotton candy, that leaves my insides sticky with sugar.

“Now I’m certain.” He whispers and I smile. I kiss his nose and snuggle closer into his arms. We stay like that for some time, that could have been either hours or mere minutes, the party dying down slowly inside the house. The sky is still dark, and I’m slowly drifting to sleep, but from Bucky’s shiver I know we should be going back, although he won’t admit it.

“You wanna know a secret?” He asks.

“Yeah?” I really don’t want to move

“My only saving grace is that compared to the kitchen, I’m amazing in the bedroom.”

I groan and bump my shoulder into his chest. This man will be the death of me. I climb my way back inside, closely followed by Bucky who is laughing behind me. He grabs my wrist and turns me around, loosely resting his arms on my hips and looking down at me through clear eyes. At least he’s sober now.

“Thank you for making my birthday wish come true.”

“You wished for a birthday cake?” I snort with a raised eyebrow.

He kisses my forehead and murmurs sugar-coated word into my skin. “I wished for you.”

***

Taglist:

@imma-new-soul

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic

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nightwingshero · 5 years ago

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Hold Me Down Chapter 4

Yassss!!!! Hahaha!!!! Surprise!!! I was finally able to get this busted out!! Man, this chapter was...*whew*, it was a tough one! But she’s done and ready to read! It’s not fully edited because I’m too excited and want to post it now but I hope you guys like it!

@dieguzguz a special thank you to you, my dear. Sam, this would’ve been a train wreck if it weren’t for you. Thank you so much for being honest and putting me on the right track when I was going through my rough patch. With your help and advice, I was able to make this chapter everything it should be. Thank you!

The car ride was awkward. I felt like a five-year-old being forced to go to church on a Sunday morning, except I was a 27-year-old adult, being forced to move in with someone I hadn’t known for a full week. Someone, mind you, that had threatened to kill me and who I ended up holding a knife to. Part of me worried that I would wake up to one to my throat.

Atlanta was a decently sized,and with the traffic, it took us forever to get to our destination. The penthouse was on the outskirts of the city, giving what seemed to be a nice view of the city. But it had to have been built recently, the structure shiny and the windows huge. It’s almost intimidating as Randy turns, swiping a card at the gated entrance to the parking underneath.

The parking lot is dark, and I can’t help but remember all those scary movies I had seen in my lifetime so far. I eye Randy, because I know Viking Princess—Jane—is someone I can handle. I didn’t think Randy, or Jane, was a threat to me, especially in the light of current events. But in my life, you couldn’t be too sure. Someone was always ready to plunge a knife in your back, whether you were looking or not.

And I almost groan at the reminder of what I had agreed to. I didn’t know how the hell this was going to even work. I could pretend to be anything, anyone, to get what I needed. A businesswoman, a shallow woman who didn’t understand majority of things, even an escort at one low point in my life. But I had never tried to enter a fake engagement. I didn’t have the type of patience or time for that. A long con wasn’t something Dutch talked much about, despite teaching us the skill to do it. But cons were never the goal. No, our goal was much more sinister than that.

I rub my hands together as we park the SUV, glancing around to try and see through the tinted glass, but failing. As they step out of the vehicle, I follow suit, unsure of where exactly we were going, but I can tell that the garage is a few degrees cooler than being outside. It’s a nice relief, even if the eerie lighting threw me off. It didn’t, however, stop me from eyeing the line of cars.

An empty parking spot laid between a black Lexus and dark blue Jaguar F Type, making me curious to what was missing. I raised a brow, however, as I spotted an old black Mustang at the end of the line. Jane and Randy kept walking, as if it was absolutely normal, and it’s then that it occurs to me that maybe there were more people living in the building. I couldn’t wait to slip away to sweet talk the owner of the Mustang.

Stopping, Jane waves something in front of the elevator, a key card of some sort, and the elevator doors open. I’m grateful, as we ascend, that there isn’t any awkward elevator music playing to add to the odd atmosphere. I want to believe that this could fall under some sort of kidnapping, but I knew that wasn’t the case. I had come willingly, even if it felt like I didn’t really have the choice. Which seemed to be a reoccurring theme as of late.

So lost in my own thoughts, the ding of the elevator made me jump, forcing myself to face the reality of my new environment. The lights were off, indicating that no one was home. Despite the dark home, the massive windows at the other end showed the sun setting and the lights of the city shining around us. Mesmerized I walk forward, leaving Randy and Jane behind in the foyer. The lights switch on, and I realize that there’s a balcony there, the glass doors blending in perfectly with the windows, almost as if they weren’t there at all. The pool water sparkled, the blue of it creating a glow that clashed with the darkness of its surroundings. My skin itched to feel the gentle caress of the water, and I could bet anything that it was temperature controlled.

“I can show you to your room.” Randy called. I glanced over to see him waiting patiently at the bottom of a floating staircase, the dark black slabs embedded into the wall.

“Okay.” I replied, turning away from the view to follow him.

There were a couple of doors that we passed until we came to a small indent, not exactly a hallway, but something with a door on either side. “That’s John’s room.” Randy nodded to the right side. “If you need anything, he’s right across the way.”

I almost flinch a bit as Randy opened the door on the left. I’m sure he meant it to be reassuring, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel it. I was a misplaced object in this odd museum. The feeling just grows worse as we step into the room. The greys, blacks, and whites contradicting each other. It was probably the biggest bedroom I had ever seen, and my gut twists. Why the hell did someone ever find this necessary?

Randy gently placed the bag down on the bed and turned to me. “Take a few minutes to adjust and then come back downstairs. Jane is gonna whip something up for you.”

“And the prince himself?” I asked, continuing to look around.

“John is going to be out late tonight. He said that you were to eat something and to feel as comfortable as possible. You’re allowed to look around, most of the penthouse is open to you. His office and bedroom are off limits, though.”

I scoffed as I met Randy’s dark brown eyes. “Oh please, as if I would ever want to go anywhere near his bedroom.”

Randy’s lips grow into a tight line, but I can’t tell if he’s holding back laughter or a retort. Either way, it didn’t matter. He walked out, leaving me alone in my new gilded cage. I slowly walk around, noting how the windows were floor to ceiling, no way of getting out, especially from this high up. My skin crawled at the thought of there not being a way out, and I focused on my breathing. In and out slowly, because I wouldn’t let this get the better of me.

My fingers skim the silk fabric of the bedding, pressing down a bit, almost shocked at how soft it was. Feeling more like a child, I hop up on the bed and fall back. I sighed, my eyes closing briefly. I didn’t know what kind of mattress this was, but holy shit, was it heavenly. I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling. I feel this overwhelming urge to cry, the heavy feeling settling into my chest. I was finally given just a moment to myself, to be able to actually take a damn breath, and all I wanted to do was cry. I’ve been arrested, kidnapped, backed into a corner and forced into a fake engagement all while losing my apartment. There was no safe space for me anymore, nowhere for me retreat to. I was locked away with someone that was a clear threat if not handled correctly, and god, it was terrifying. I hadn’t felt less level of apprehension since Dutch. Always laying awake at night, scared of what next test he had in store. Part of me worried to waking with John’s hands around my throat.

A knock on the door sounded, making me jump. “Yeah?”

“Food’s done.” Randy called and I could hear his retreat.

“That was fast.” I muttered as I rolled of the bed, my feet landing on the soft rug as I kicked off my boots.

On the way down the stairs, I cling to the railing as my socks slid on my first step, and I refused to have ‘falling down the stairs’ added to the day’s events. I didn’t want to make any more of a fool of myself than I already have. I eyed Jane as I went though, noticing that she leaned against the counter and texted on her phone. Cringing, I eyed the bruising that began to develop from me breaking her nose. I felt a bit bad for it.

“So…what exactly am I eating?” I asked as I slowly made my way to the island in the center of the kitchen. It was modern—like everything else—with the island bar made wholly of white marble. The cabinets and counters of the rest of it was pitch black with a black and white marble black splash. I would be lying if I had said I wasn’t at least a bit envious. It was gorgeous, everything sleek and clean, all the appliances matching perfectly.

Jane cleared her throat and shoved her phone away as I sat at the bar, my hands resting against the cool surface. “I uh, made you grilled cheese. Hope that’s okay.” She muttered before placing a plate in front of me.

“Yeah, that’s totally fine.” I gave her a small smile, but she didn’t see it. I could smell the cheesy goodness, the sandwich cut in half diagonally, showing off the golden melted cheese. I took a bite, the cheese oozing in my mouth. Chewing and swallowing, I watch as she leans back against the counter. She looks exhausted. Another twinge of guilt. “Hey, look, I’m sorry about the nose thing. It wasn’t personal.”

Jane’s sharp green eyes find mine with a raised brow. “Not gonna lie, part of me wants punch you to call it even, but I’m gonna ask in all fairness: how likely am I to win that fight?”

“Hmm.” I smirk before tearing off a piece of the sandwich. “Not very.”

She shakes her head with a laugh as I take another bite. “You know it’s Jacob that trains us, and to have your small ass put me on my face in front of my fiancé and trainer is extremely humiliating. Although, I gotta say as a fan of dramatics in that department,” she threw a mischievous look, raising her brow playfully. “That was pretty badass.”

“Thanks.” I laugh a little as I continue to pick at my food. “So, what happens now?”

“Now,” she sighed. “We play the game. You’ll need to keep a low profile while we set the stage. Obviously, it would be strange if it got out that you were living with John before you’re at least spotted together in public. If we play it right, I think we could make it seem like you’ve been secretly dating the past few months.”

“To the public?”

“Right. But as for the feds and Drubmans? They’ll see that you’ve wrapped John Seed around your finger, doing your job as the engagement gets announced.”

Finishing off half of the sandwich, I gave her a look. “When is that?”

“I don’t know. Honestly, I think it’s all a bit cliché. Just stage a damn break in. Rough John up a bit, break in for fake documents or something.”

I laughed at her as Jane shrugged. “There’s an idea.”

There was a relief in finding some common ground with Jane, something I didn’t realize I truly needed up until now. I didn’t have any allies here, but maybe I wouldn’t have to be so alone. The idle chatter between us was slow, nothing deep, both of us guarded. The trust wasn’t there, and I had to respect her for being smart enough to not give away any details I could use.

After I was finished, she offered a tour, but I stubbornly refused. I was going to walk around his palace and admire what he was, but that didn’t help me from my eyes wondering, eyeing the pictures of family here and there. Most of it was just abstract paintings he decorated on his walls, but I could see a family painting and a few pictures. There were black and white shots of planes on the wall behind me, for whatever reason. I crushed my curiosity down out of pride.

I finally called it a night, throwing Jane a good night over my shoulder as I made my way back to the room I was assigned. Locking the door behind me, I sighed heavily. I could watch tv for the rest of the night, allow myself to slip into a mindless state to help with the tension that I was feeling. But my curiosity finally won out as I started to explore my room in more depth. I walked over to the double doors on the other side of the room, wishfully hoping it was a way to escape.

As I ripped the doors opened, I am both star-shocked and disappointed. Part of me wanted it to lead to a secret balcony of some sort, but what I found instead was an unnecessarily huge walk-in closet. I flipped the light on to see the racks completely filled with clothes: dresses, suits, designer jeans and shirts. There were sunglasses, jewelry, and shoes.

I almost died as I knelt down to check the bottom of the shelves, eyeing the boots that sat there innocently. It was like a damn bookshelf, all the boots at the bottom with a few gym shoes and then…then the heels made up for the rest of it. My eyes widened at the sight of a few Doc Martens, a regular pair, one knee high, and the last was heeled. I couldn’t help but smile in excitement, my love for boots knew no bounds in all honestly. I moved on, checking out the assortment of heels. Most were black, some blue, silver, and grey. There were a few red and burgundy ones, too, and I couldn’t help but…feel a bit of unease.

Frowning, I glance back around, noting the colors—or lack thereof—and I felt a chill. It was strange to me that somehow, whoever did this, knew my taste. Knew my style well enough to pull it off. I turned, grabbed a heel, eyeing that famous red sole before checking the size. I dropped it as if I had been burned, then ripped a black business professional dress off the hanger and checked the tag. A shaky breath escaped my lips as the dress slipped to the floor. Everything was in my size…how the fuck did this happen?

Catching sight of a gown bag, I swallowed before rushing over. I pulled it, carefully unzipping it as I went. Pulling a side back, I drop it and scramble away. Newly dry cleaned and packed perfectly away, was the same dress I wore that night at the gala. I tried to take a calming breath, convincing myself it was a coincidence and that I was just paranoid. But I’ve done this for so long, my instincts couldn’t help but scream, warning me that this was all just too much to not mean something, but I wasn’t sure what. He had seen the dress, maybe he had bought it knowing that. But that didn’t explain everything else.

I’m hesitant, because lately every time I tried to dig, something bad ended up happening to me. My curiosity had done nothing positive for me in weeks, and this was no better. I didn’t want to see this, I didn’t want to acknowledge the possibilities…but I wouldn’t be alive today if hadn’t done those things. Biting my lip, I slowly think up for a plan to see what I could find. A visit to a certain friend could help put things in motion in finding out anything I needed to know. So, I walk out of the closet with a bitter thought of how anyone could afford—or deserve to afford—even half the shit in that damn closet.

Those were my thoughts as I woke up the next morning in the slate grey sheets and expensive down comforter. Worse case scenario I suffered through this for a few months, getting a taste of what I could have when this was all over. It wasn’t that bad. I had protection, slept at a penthouse, all needs were taken care of. I could put up with the insufferable asshole. I had the patience for that.

Right?

I eyed the closet doors and felt a twist of doubt, unsure if I did. Half of me screamed to ignore it and keep my hand down for the sake of getting by without causing anymore trouble. The other demanded answers, curiosity and anger working together to piece every little thing together.

Groaning, I sat up and made my way to the bathroom, doing my usual morning routine. Throwing on a pair of black shorts and adjusting my tank top, I cautiously open the bedroom door. The smell of bacon hit me immediately, and I could hear the sizzling of something. I sighed in relief, shutting the door behind me and running my hand through my hair. If Jane was here, that would make me feel at least a tad better, even though I was the reason she was sporting black eyes now.

My feet hit the cold surface of the stairs as I made my descent, glancing over once the kitchen came into view, and freezing on the spot. I debate running back up the stairs, but he glances over his shoulder at me. There’s no going back now.

I would have never guessed that John could cook, and even if he did, I didn’t think him the kind of person to cook for himself. So, it’s a shock to me, and it’s the excuse I use as I stare at him. His back is bare, with him being in only grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips. It gave me the perfect view of his tattoos. A huge black and blue raven spreading across his shoulder blades, a symbol on his left shoulder, a knife and snake under it, and a plethora of smaller, individual ones along his forearm. I couldn’t get a better look on his other side, but I was so sure that he had others. And as much as I admired the ink across his skin, it was the lines of scars that threw me.

Taking my time, I continued down while keeping a watchful eye on him. I had underestimated him; I knew that much. I just wasn’t sure how much. Joseph showed some cards yesterday, enough for me to know and understand that crossing him would be a terrible mistake on my part. But John…he was still a mystery, and I couldn’t afford any more surprises.

“Wren.” He looked over his shoulder briefly once more, before turning back. It’s alien, how my name falls from his lips. It makes me feel something else that I don’t know how to place. “It’s about time. I thought I would have to come up and make sure you hadn’t died in your sleep.” He called as I stood by the island. His voice had a deepness, almost husky, and I wondered if he sounded like that every morning. Up close I could see the red scars better. Some were random lines, others were words. Sins carved into his skin harshly, as I spy Sloth under his right forearm along with the other tattoos there. I force my attention away from it, swallowing my curious questions.

“I thought Jane would be making breakfast.” I shot back with a shrug that he couldn’t see, so focused on the skillet in front of him. “I was disappointed.”

John moved, transferring whatever he made onto a plate. “Jane is with Faith at their house. She doesn’t stay here. Faith prefers her fiancée at home.” He turned with the plate in his hand, placing it on the island and pointing at the barstool. “Sit. You need to eat.”

Any retort died in my throat as he fished his phone out of his pocket. His chest was well toned and lean. He wasn’t big like Jacob seemed to be, but he had muscle to him. Part of me wondered how much of a challenge he would be if it were an actual fair fight, just him and I. His body was lithe, for sure, so not only would he have strength on his side, but he would be fast, too. I’ve already had a taste of that.

My eyes trace the lines of the scales he has tattooed just under his chest and ending just above his belly button, with another starting right under. A smaller version of the symbol in the center as dark lines and shading to give it a dark glow, with a design underneath that was cut off by his pants. I sat down, feeling uncomfortably warm, and looked down at the plate. “I’d appreciate you not acting like you’re my dad, telling me what to do.” I snarked.

John stopped texting to throw me a dark look, the corners of his mouth twisting the slightest in a smirk, opening his mouth to say something. He stopped himself, hesitating, before his mouth forms a tight line. “Just eat.” He began typing away again, his hair falling in his face a bit. “We’re going to have to announce our…relationship to the public soon. I’ve made a reservation for us this weekend. It’ll give your face time to heal and the sooner we get this going, the better.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tossed his phone on the counter. “I hope you like Italian.”

He leaned against the counter, his hands gripping the edge as he stared at me. I almost rolled my eyes. How this man could be nothing but business while walking around in sweats was just ridiculous. “Oh good, I love spaghetti.” He said nothing, but I could see the frustration and ire working its way into his eyes. “I’m kidding. Italian is fine.” This time I did roll my eyes.

“Good. There’s plenty of clothes in your closet, and I hope you found something that suits your taste in the bathroom. I don’t know what brands you use, or whatever.” His phone buzzed, gaining his attention.

“You were the one that did that?” I asked, raising a brow at him, my thoughts going to mystery of the wardrobe I had been given. John snapped his gaze to mine.

“No.” he answered, quickly and almost snapping at me. Clearing his throat, he continued. “No, Whitney and Faith did that. I couldn’t be bothered with it. She thought you and Jane were about the same size.”

I narrowed my eyes at him when he looked away. That was…awfully fast, especially for the amount that littered that damn closet. It didn’t really make sense, but I shove it aside, not wanting to start a fight first thing in the morning. “And here I thought it was for the women I’m sure you have milling in and out.”

Ah. So much for no fighting. Pull a punch only to throw another. Good job, Wren.

But John scoffed, a small smirk on his lips. “My one-night stands don’t stay, my dear. And no one would ever be allowed to keep anything here, let alone a full closet of that size.” He threw me a taunting look. “Which I’m sure you’ll understand.”

I frowned, my nose wrinkling. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean you seducing all those men you con—”

I threw my head back, a laugh escaping before I look back at him. “Oh, no. I don’t sleep with my marks. Ever. That’s a rule of mine. I don’t ever mix business with pleasure. Besides, most of those men are old and cringy. No thank you.”

“Why?” he asked, folding his arms as he leaned against them on the island. “Bad experience?” He smirked at his own innuendo and I hesitated. I didn’t trust him, not by a long shot, and I didn’t want to ever give him something to use against me. But on the other hand, he was supposed to be an ally, my employer’s brother, and for this particular job, my partner. So, against my better judgement, I decide to be honest.

“When we’re recruited, we learn that creating ties is dangerous.” I stared, playing with the food with a fork. “So, we’re taught how to kind of…shut our emotions away.” Sighing I give him a look. “And for some people, it’s harder said than done.”

He quirked his brow at me. “You don’t have sex because you will get emotionally attached?” John laughed. “Oh, you’re one of those. A bit needy and can get a bit clingy because they end up wanting something more.”

I immediately frowned, irritation making my face hot. Fucking playboys. “No, I don’t sleep with them because they’re disgusting, greedy leeches, and it’s unprofessional. Sex complicates everything, because you’re always messing with someone’s emotions, and that’s where I draw my line. I’m in the game of stealing, not manipulating someone’s emotions just because I can. That being said,” I hopped off the stool, pushing the plate away, before I lean close to him. “Just because some women want something more, and have feelings, doesn’t make them needy or clingy. In fact, they aren’t the ones to blame at all. It’s not their fault you’re a heartless asshole.”

I turned, making my way back up the stairs without another word.

Coming back down a bit later, I found him no where in sight. Jane and Randy sat at the island instead, playing poker. They looked up at the sound of my approach. “I need a car. Unless you two wanna drive me around all day, although I would prefer to be alone.”

Randy hesitated looking uneasy. “Uh, I don’t think—”

“Just give her the keys to the Lexus. John has been using the Audi, he’s not gonna miss it.” Jane cut him off, throwing me a smirk. I couldn’t help but return it, the guilt slowly faded away more as the mutual respect began to grow between us. I had a feeling we were going to get along just fine.

He gave Jane one more look before turning back to me. “The table in the foyer, there’s a black tray where he keeps his keys. Do not grab anything other than the keys for his Lexus.” Randy warned, pointing at me. I rolled my eyes, making my way over.

I raised a brow, seeing the keys neatly laid out. How many cars did this guy have? I rolled my eyes, grabbing the Lexus key fob. I was ready to get the fuck out of here and see what I could find, both with the wardrobe confusion and the apartment issue.

Duncan, you asshole.

I huffed as I parked on the side of the street, eyeing the building. This was the right place, right? Checking my mirror, I open the door and exit the car. I immediately miss the air conditioning, but I push that aside. I was on a mission and this was long overdue. I should have done this before anything else, but it had gotten away from me. I guess being kidnapped had a way of taking up your time.

The building was beautiful to say the least. And I wasn’t sure how the owner did it, mixing between old and modern. It was one of the classier tattoo shops I’ve come across. Made that familiar urge rise up within me again, that familiar and comforting sting that always left something beautiful behind.

Pain was temporary, but vanity…vanity was forever.

Making a mental note to come up with some ideas, I pushed the glass door open. This had to be the one. It was the only tattoo shop close to Mary May’s sports bar, and she did mention it was down the road. I would hunt them down, one by one, though. How many tattoo parlors could Atlanta have anyway? I was determined.

The air conditioning was welcoming when I entered, and a bell dinged to announce my arrival. The inside was gorgeous, to say the least. Dark walls with light flooring, a red accent wall that made the room pop in a way that drew you in. While most of it was sleek, there were Victorian touches here and there, from the plush couch to the light fixtures. A beautiful balance.

“Hold on, I’m comin’!” A male voice drawled, and I couldn’t help but allow my lips to curl into a smirk. I broadened when Sharky came around the corner. He stopped short, seeing me standing in the lobby, and I watched as he took a second to recover. “Oh. Hey there, Shorty. What’cha up to?”

I watched the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot while shoving his hands in his green hoodie. “Nothing much. I was in the neighborhood and thought I would drop by. Mary May said you got a new gig here recently. Didn’t know you were an artist, Sharky.”

“Oh, well.” He cleared his throat while throwing me a sheepish smile. “I actually do the piercings, you see. I ain’t good at drawing or any of that fancy stuff.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “To each their own. But uh…I came here for a reason.”

Catching onto my meaningful stare, he jumped with eyes wide. “Oh! Yeah, follow me this way. We can talk back here.” Sharky turned with a wave of his hand, and I followed him back down the hallway. I eyed the work hung up on the walls, but nothing stood out specifically to me. Just drawings or pictures of work that was done, very good work.

“Who did all these?” I asked.

“Our boss.” Sharky called over his shoulder as he opened a door at the end of the hallway. “He doesn’t come around much with his big-shot career taking up most of his time, but when he is here, he ain’t got any extra time. You gotta book him months in advance.”

I raised my brow, impressed. I’ve had my fair share of experience with talented artists, so it wasn’t that shocking that someone was so in demand. What was shocking was the fact that it wasn’t this man’s main gig. A big-shot career? What the hell did this guy do? And that question became even bigger as I stepped into what I assumed to be his office. Huge glass desk with a fancy computer, with blotch tests framed and amazing abstract paintings hung proudly on the walls. What really caught my attention was the one painting that seemed to be misplaced.

It was religious, that was for sure. A dark version of the Garden of Eden, Eve being entangled naked by a snake while Adam gripped her and bled. I had never seen anything like it before, but something about made you just stare. Sharky finally caught onto what had grabbed my attention.

“Oh yeah. He uh, he has an obsession with religion. I mean, some of his family does, too. Especially his parents, so…there are pieces like that in some of our rooms. Each one is inspired by a sin, I think.”

“And this one?”

“I think it’s supposed to be temptation or something. Or a warning to not touch snakes or naked ladies. I’m not sure.”

I shook my head. “Listen, I came here to check on you and discuss some business. I also need a favor.”

Sharky shifted uneasily. “What’s up?”

“I had some cops, and a fed, tell me they shook you down for information on me. They obviously have been following me because they had a photo of us talking. Any chance that they got anything on you?”

“Feds?” he asked throwing me a confused look. “Nah, nobody approached me.”

“Then what made you have a career change?” I asked.

“Thought it would be a good idea to make legit money, too. Besides, my boss wanted me.

“Is this the same guy whose name was on my lease?” Sharky flinched, giving me my answer, and I sighed. “Damn it, Sharky. I told you to put it under me—”

“My boss wouldn’t let me.”

“What do you mean?”

Sharky paled, making a show of glancing at a watch he didn’t own. “Oh, look. I gotta go—”

I immediately stepped into this path, crossing my arms as I blocked the door. “Sharky, explain. Now.”

“Okay!” he threw his hands up in defense. “My boss…well, he knows about you. Like, knows that you’re a total badass and stuff. So…he invested.”

“Invested?” I asked, an uneasy feeling coming over me. I thought I was flying under the radar, only coming out of the shadows because John had caught me. “What do you mean he knows about me?”

“Well,” he rubbed the back of his neck, unwilling to meet my eyes. “he knows of you. Knows what you can do. And well, he’s my boss Shorty. I can’t do business with just anybody.”

“Sharky, you’re a fence. That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.”

“It’s more complicated than that.” He mumbled, staring at his feet. “If it weren’t for my boss, I’d be dead. He saved my life. So, no, I only do fence work for him and who he allows.”

My brows furrowed. This was supposed to clear up things, not making them more confusing. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it, but my aunt got me out of some…family issues. And well, my boss took me under his wing, kinda. Protected me, you know?” My heart tugged for him. I knew family issues all too well, and he was lucky to have someone to be there for him. Well, fuck.

“So, this ‘Duncan’ is your boss?” I sighed. “And he…invested?”

Sharky perked up at the change of my tone. “Yeah! He was like, super impressed with what you did in L.A., so yeah. He invested.”

“He…he knows about what happened in Cali?” I breathed out, a chill going over my spine.

Of all the things, that wasn’t something I would want anyone to witness. I was still licking my wounds from my wounded pride, my actually injuries healed long ago. It was the first time I had been caught, a tip was given, and I had found myself fighting for my life. I was lucky enough to avoid law enforcement, which seemed to be a miracle. I definitely left a lasting impression and I wasn’t sure if I would ever walk into that city again. Not that I would ever miss it. Good riddance.

“Yeah, but don’t worry.” He waved it off with a roll of his eyes. “He ain’t worried ‘bout all that.”

“So…when you bought me that dress…” I trailed off, the dress coming to mind as I gave him a look.

“He did. I ain’t that good at woman shopping.” Sharky replied with a laugh. “He has good taste, knows exactly what to get. That knife strap still working good?”

“The strap is fine.” I replied absentmindly. I had returned that dress, never keeping things that I used or wore on jobs to destroy any connection. I didn’t like this, not one bit. There was an extremely small chance it was a coincidence. It might not have even been the same dress I wore, just a replica that Whitney had bought. It could have been a joke on John’s part. Perhaps I was just reaching due to paranoia. I sighed and decided to change the subject. But…about that favor?”

“What do you need?” he asked cautiously.

“I need a new set of throwing knives. Just like, three of them. Custom made with the blue blades.”

Sharky threw his head back and groaned. “Girly, you know how much those cost? You want regular throwing knives, I got you. But those customized ones? My boss—”

“If he’s really invested, then he’ll get them.” I replied sternly. “I’m assuming he’s going to want me to do a job for him then?”

Sharky sighed, shaking his head. “It’s complicated. I don’t know what the dude wants, but he keeps the money comin’ for yah.”

“Well…that might be a blessing with what work I have cut out in front of me.” I walked towards the desk, finding it neat and clear of any documentation. Nothing that I could swipe, but there were interesting paperweights and fancy pens. No pictures of family…nothing. “I got myself tied up in a job for the next few months, at least.”

“Job with who?” he asked, not even noticing me taking note of everything I could. I was desperate for a clue, for anything, that could lead me to who this guy was. I didn’t like that someone was watching from the shadows.

“I don’t think I’m really allowed to say.” I replied turning back to him. “I know that I’m gone once it’s over. Tell your boss I appreciate…whatever it is that he did, but I don’t think I’m interested in whatever he has in mind. I just want the knives.”

Sharky shrugged. “I don’t think he has anything in mind, just interested in yah. You want me to deliver those knives somewhere special?”

I snorted. “You can have him deliver them himself to get rid of all this mystery bullshit. But if that can’t be arranged, I can just stop by here. Either way.”

Sharky gave a nod. I was tired of all this suspense, all these surprises that seemed to come out of nowhere. I didn’t know how many people were involved with this, but I was hoping that I had reached the end. Having another player in the game wasn’t something I could afford at the moment. I couldn’t even handle my new roommate, let alone Drubman and the feds breathing down my neck. Which reminded me that I needed to check in sooner rather than later before they hunted me down.

I only stayed for a few more hours, talking and joking with him. I didn’t get a whole lot of time with Sharky, or anyone for that matter. I never really allowed myself to make friends, and I always viewed him, and Mary May, more along the lines of associates or colleagues than anything. But I had found myself growing more and more fond of these people, no matter how much I tried to avoid it.

Finally, waving goodbye, I exited the shop and back into the heat of Atlanta. Somehow, I had managed to kill most of the day, which was fine by me. Normally I was a home body, but with my new living arrangement, I was desperate to get out of the house. Suddenly I found that I enjoyed being out and about.

I turned, checking to see Sharky gone as I pulled out my phone and clicked on her contact. Bringing it to my ear, I listened to it ring. I knew she was about to get busy, but I was hoping she would answer anyway.

“Hello?” Mary May answered, relief flooding over me.

“Hey, May. It’s me.”

“Well, look who decided to stick around. I assumed you were still here since you never swung by to say bye.” There was a beat of silence, but not enough for me to answer. “Wait, unless you’re already gone. Did you leave without saying bye, you asshole?”

I chuckled at her. She was always so damn mouthy. “No, I’m still here in Atlanta.” Unfortunately. “But I’m calling you because I need a favor. Can you look someone up for me?”

“Oh.” She sounded shocked, but she recovered quickly. “Yeah, sure. What’s the name?”

“Duncan. Male, I think.”

“First or last?”

“Yeah, I’m not entirely sure.” I replied almost sheepishly.

Mary May sighed. “Wren, do you have any idea how common that name is? That’s going to take me forever.”

“Well, apparently he’s a big-time businessman here in Atlanta, so that could help. He also owns a tattoo shop. Oh, and the bastard was renting my apartment the whole fucking time. There’s that.”

Mary May hesitated. “Wait…tattoo parlor? Wren, where are you?”

“In Atlanta—”

“Where exactly?” she pressed. I frowned as she sighed. Where the hell was this coming from. “Like, what’s the name of the parlor?”

“It’s the one Sharky is working with. I dropped by and said hey.” I said, brushing it aside.

“Does Sharky know you’re doing this?”

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him.” I replied impatiently. “His boss has a keen interest, and I have every intention on finding out who has their eye on me.”

Mary May groaned. “Why do I get the feeling this is going to end badly? I can already tell this is going to turn into a ‘Wren-Gets-Into-More-Trouble-Than-She-Anticipated’ moment.”

“Where’s your faith, May?”

“Extremely low considering the last week.”

“Oh…well yeah, that’s fair.”

“So, the name of the tattoo parlor?”

“Right, hang on.” I turned back, checking to make sure Sharky was still out of sight before my eyes fall to the glass. “It’s called—"

I froze, frowning as I eyed the decal on the window. I can’t help but feel irritated, knowing that I had seen that symbol somewhere but couldn’t think of where for the life of me. I pinched the bridge of my nose as a headache began to form.

“Wren?”

“Oh, yeah. Uhm, it’s called Garden of…of Eden…?” I almost scoffed. There was no fucking way. “Yeah, okay, so this guy is religious. Or likes to play with a religious theme. I half expect him to be old and gross. And if that’s the case, tell him I’m a lesbian.”

She snorted. “Yeah, okay. I’ll see what I can find.”

“Thank you.” Just as I hung up, a little alert came through, announcing a new text. As I read it, my heart sank. Fuck.

Update? You’ve been silent too long. -JH

Welp. There was that. With everything going on, I completely forgot that I was actually supposed to be checking in with them, giving updates as things progressed. I bit my lip, trying hard to think of a good response. If they found out I had moved in with John, they would know something was up. This had to be done delicately or we were all screwed. Me, above the rest, though.

Made some progress with the youngest brother. Having dinner. Will keep you updated.

Shoving the phone in my pocket, I make my way to my new car. I was just ready to crawl in bed, sleep forever, and pretend this wasn’t fucking happening. This had only gotten worse, people shifting their attention towards me like never before. It was annoying and I wanted it over with. I couldn’t wait to leave, to go somewhere secluded where no one would ever be able to find me unless I wanted them to.

I drove back quickly, doing my best to avoid the traffic. Eyeing the black Audi, I groan. That only meant that John was back, and I really didn’t have the patience for this asshole anymore today. Part of me hoped that he would be holed up in his office, and I took comfort in it.

But all of that came crashing down when I stepped into the penthouse, loud music playing, the lights dimmed except for his massive lounge. Laughter and thrilled shrieking joined the music, forcing my headache to get even worse. I began to make my way over cautiously, eyeing Jane as she leaned against the separating wall of the room and hallway. She gave me a look as I stepped into the light of the room.

Nothing in this world really shocks me anymore, but I have to hand it to him, John Seed kept me on my toes. “What the fuck?’ I muttered under my breath, taking in the scene before me. John had the same suit on from this morning, or what was left of it. The vest was gone along with the jacket, his sleeves rolled up and the woman half across his lap must have been responsible for unbuttoning half the buttons, or ripping them, seeing that there were a few scattered on the floor. She was in a bright red dress that clung to her curves almost revealing, and she had no issue with pressing all of it against him. Her blonde hair curled and falling messily out of some sort of updo.

The two men on the adjacent part of the couch were no better. Though the women that accompanied them seemed a bit…paid for. They were older, rich by the looks of it, and I’m sure they lived like kings. I recognized one as Charles, the man I had tried to steal from, and the other was a man I hadn’t seen before. He had a half-assed combover with a gut.

“Who the fuck is this?”

I turned at the sound of the blonde’s shitty tone. Her red lipstick is a bit smeared, leaving some on the collar of John’s shirt and his neck. The eyeliner being smudged gave her a coked-out vibe that I wasn’t sure sat well with me, and eyeing the living room table, I found out why. Lines of white powder, nice and neat, laid contrasting against the black glass, and looking at John, I could see remnants of is in his facial hair. His eyes were glassy and bloodshot, his face flushed out. He looked at her with a lazy smile.

“No one, Holly. Don’t worry about her.” John drawled.

I narrowed my eyes at him as Jane sighed behind me. My jaw ticked as I tried to evaluate the situation. I felt like I had just come home to find my husband cheating, and not in the sense that I was betrayed by someone I loved. No. It was the feeling like I was the butt of a joke, that I was to be humiliated, and I was pathetic even being here to confront him for it.

“Right. I’m no one.” I echoed emptily. He caught my gaze once more, the challenge there in his eyes. “That’s exactly how the conversation went.” I’m not a jealous girlfriend—or fiancé—in this moment. I’m a pissed off business partner, who has found just how irresponsible her associate is; that had realized that this was a side of John Seed that wasn’t expected. I might have hated John Seed, but he had my respect.

Until now.

John smirked before hanging his head back. “Please go away. The last thing I want to deal with now is you. You’re ruining my fun with my friends.”

“Your friends?” I scoffed. A sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach made me cringe. “You call these people your friends?”

He laughs, looking at Holly. “She doesn’t even like to have sex. Such a fucking prude. Doesn’t know how to have fun.”

“That’s okay, sweetheart.” The fat one called. “You can come over here and I’ll teach yah!”

I scoffed glancing down at my shoes, trying to ignore the sting in my chest, and I look back up with a mocking laugh. “No, I have more self-respect than that. Unlike the other’s in this room, it seems.” I walk closer to John, his smirk falling at my words as I lean down. “Yeah, I might not be on your level of a good fucking time, and I lie, manipulate, and steal.” I sneered lowly as Holly returned to the table with a rolled up hundred-dollar bill. “But what I don’t do…is lie to myself. I don’t pretend to be someone I’m not for the sake of so-called friends that want nothing from me, but drugs and money. I don’t fill that dark hole with useless shit.” I lean back, taking a step away. “I may not have liked you, but I at least respected you. Disappointing that you don’t.” I sighed, looking at his little plaything. Clearing my throat, making a show of wiping my nose. “You gotta little something…”

She glared at me, rubbing the back of her hand against her nose, but traces of cocaine lingered. “Fuck off!”

“Classy.” I replied unamused, before quickly turning and walking out. “I hope you enjoy yourselves.” Jane met my gaze as I passed her, her eyes sad and tired. My heart is heavy for her, knowing that it was not just her boss, but her brother-in-law in there, wasting his life away on the things that didn’t matter. For people who would never give a shit about him.

“He wasn’t always like that, you know.”

I stop as I enter the main hall, my eyes catching the sight of Joseph leaning against the wall in the dark. He’s wearing a simple suit, similar to what he had worn yesterday, with the same damn sunglasses. “What? Arrogant, misguided, and heartless?”

He threw me a look, those eyes searching my soul until he pushed himself off the wall. “Walk with me.” Giving a slight nod towards the balcony outside, I walk next to him slowly.

Joseph is completely at ease, despite this not being his scene. He seemed so out of place, but he took it in stride. He pushed the sliding glass door open, the cooler air hitting us as we stepped out. Shutting the door behind us, he turned and walked towards the railing, leaning against it as he admired the view. It was fully dark by now, the lights of the city competing with the stars in the sky.

“My brother is most of those things and more, but heartless isn’t one of them.” Joseph finally spoke, drawing my attention to him, seeing the lights reflect in the yellow lens. “He would like you to believe that, because well…I guess that would make him stronger…untouchable, in a sense, yes?”

I leaned with him, deep in thought and hanging onto his every word. “Yes, I suppose that would make anyone feel invincible.”

“Hmm.” He gave me a glance before turning back and sighing. “John used to be such a loving child, constantly laughing and smiling, believe it or not. His parents…his parents ripped that from him.”

“You mean your parents.” I corrected with a furrowed brow, but Joseph just shook his head and looked at me.

“No, I mean John’s parents.” He cleared his throat a bit before continuing. “I’m going to tell you this because I need this to work between the two of you. I need you to work together and right now, that partnership is in flames. Anymore stress, and one of you is bound to explode, and John is infamous for his anger issues, especially to his enemies. And Ms. Blake, despite only knowing you for only 24 hours, I do not with that upon you. But this goes nowhere, do you understand? This stays between us.”

It’s quiet for a second as his eyes drill into mine, and I realize he’s waiting for an answer. “Oh. Yes, of course. I understand. I won’t say a word.”

Satisfied, he turned back to the city and I followed suit, hyperaware of Joseph’s words as they fall from his lips. “I suppose I should start from the very beginning. Our father was a…god fearing man. Knew the bible like the back of his hand. And while he held bible verses in one, he held a drink in another. He was an alcoholic and well…he took a lot of it out on us.”

“And your mother?” I whispered, my heart starting to ache.

“Oh, well, she was there, but she wasn’t.” he sighed. “I didn’t know it as well as I do now. Maybe I had known, I just didn’t want to admit it or accept it. But she was absent, locked away in the bedroom days at a time. I can’t say for sure if it was pills or a needle, but I knew well enough back then that she wasn’t of much help to any of us. It was Jacob who protected us.”

“He definitely seems like the type.” I muttered, remembering the towering man, and Joseph chuckled. “So, what happened?”

Joseph clicks his tongue matter-of-factly. “It was John, actually. That’s how they found out. He went to school with bruises on him and the teacher saw. The next thing we knew…child protective services had come for us.” It’s quiet again as he pauses, and I absorb the information. Even with the sounds of the city, you can hear the water in the pool, and it’s relaxing. There’s a loud cheering from inside and Joseph decides to break the silence. “We got adopted, of course. But…well, they were worse than what we came from, and Jacob being Jacob…well, he wouldn’t ever stand for it.”

“What did he do?”

“He caught their barn on fire.” I frowned immediately, flinching away as if he had slapped me, but Joseph paid no mind, not noticing my reaction. “Then he beat them to death. And they deserved it, but the authorities didn’t see it that way. So, they took Jacob away from us. Not long after that, John was finally adopted.” Another sigh as he shifted. “And these people, swore to be good Christian people, but didn’t know the meaning of it. Swore that John was born evil, born in sin.” He looked at me with a shake of his head. “Misplaced belief breeds disaster. Always.”

The way he said it made a chill go up my spine, my body going cold with dread. “They sound insane.”

“You haven’t even heard the half of it, my dear.” Joseph clenched and unclenched his hands as he stared at them. “They beat him, manipulated him, tore him down until he was exactly what they wanted. He was a shell of himself. Made him confess to sins he had never committed and made it to where he believed he was wrong. His whole existence was nothing but sin. So, he learned how to be the perfect son. Learned how to become a chameleon of sorts, changing colors and pieces of himself for each interaction and person. Something I’m sure you can relate to?”

I shift uncomfortably under his gaze, because it’s so true. Both of us trained and taught to be what others wanted us to be, to be the perfect shining example that stood above the rest. I hated that he was right, that there were similarities between the two of us that shook me to the core, and I wanted to rip it away. To deny any of it, because I would never do what he was doing now. Never would I fall so low.

Become one of his coked-up buddies he keeps around, for all I fucking care. If you value your life, you’ll do this.

A sick feeling twists inside as Hurk Sr’s words whisper harshly in my mind. I did value my life, and I wasn’t so sure of what I would and wouldn’t do anymore. If someone had asked me a few months ago if I would stage an engagement, I would’ve laughed in their face. But yet, here I was, in a situation I had sworn I would never allow myself to get into; a situation where someone else was in control and pulling the strings. I couldn’t really say anything anymore.

“He quit for a while.” Joseph murmured. “John hasn’t…he hasn’t done something like this in a very long time. But we need the partnership, I need them in there to align with us. He knows that…and this was his way…this is my fault, and I know that. John would do anything for his family.”

“You didn’t ask him to do any of that, Joseph.” I whispered. “We make our own choices. And there’s another way, John just…doesn’t know how to apply it yet.” I don’t know why I was defending him, but I knew I spoke from experience. When you didn’t know how else to handle a situation, you always fell on bad habits. They were the most comfortable.

“I’m hoping he will get better. He has, really. But tonight has me worried.” He scoffed. “The Duncan’s did a hell of a job on him, and I’m doing what I can to break their hold. After dead for so many years, you would think their influence would’ve died with them.”

My heart stops as I look at Joseph. “What? What did you say?” He gave me a confused look, and I clarified. “The name. Who?”

“The Duncan’s. They were John’s adoptive parents. Before he changed it back, John’s last name was Duncan.” I swallow as Joseph looked away, brushing something off his suit jacket.

John Duncan.

#deputy wren blake #wren blake #john seed #randy miller #jane williams #joseph seed #sharky boshaw #holly pepper #my writing #hold me down #far cry 5 #far cry 5 au

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