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wereshrew-admirer · 1 year ago

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turns out i’ve been writing this out, here’s the first bit

It had been a long time, years, since he’d tussled with a local lord or lady who decided to use his lingering accent or association with the devils of his homeland as a cheap barb against him, but Duvall still felt the tension waiting between his shoulder-blades whenever surrounded by a group likely to be bored by another drab party and desperate to wring some entertainment from him.

Always, it began with someone asking for clarification on a point he’d made in a recent paper. He should know better by now, but they usually do an alright imitation of the genuine curiosity that he craves, and his self control still isn’t where it should be for a man his age, in his position. And so more times then not he engages with them despite knowing that with each new listener that gathers around the questions will become more and more obviously designed to amuse one another with his answers, rather than to engage with his research as peers.

And so when a hush fell over the ballroom one evening and his tormentors turned their attention elsewhere, his first reaction had been relief and gratitude. His second reaction was to raid the buffet of sugary tarts and biscuits that were usually gone by the time he made his way through the crowd of party-goers to collect any food for himself.

feeling a little guilty at just how little of what he’d collected was actual food, duvall pauses and chooses a few small hors d'oeuvres in addition to the fancy desserts he’d been coveting, and takes his plate out to the balcony to eat alone. It takes him a long time to realize that the relative silence has gone on longer than he’d expect even from the most unusual distraction, and he’s almost tempted to go back inside and see for himself when lye lychen joins him in the cooling night air.

Lyke comes to stand beside him and lights a cigarette, taking a long drag before wordlessly offering it to duvall, who refuses. Lye has known him long enough to have expected no different, so duvall isn't surprised when he instead uses the reach of his hand into duvall’s space to snatch a pastry from duvall’s plate. Duvall doesn’t even bother complaining, only does his best to fix Lyke with an unamused stare as his friend blows a smoke ring and, always a showoff, tosses the pastry through it and into his mouth.

He chews briefly before grinning at duvall, his teeth crooked, unevenly eroded gums making them appear larger than they should be in some places - he’s an infuriatingly charming man and duvall’s air of annoyance is hard to maintain.

“So!” lyke says, cheerful, “You not interested in meeting the newest member of our most exclusive-est high society?”

Duvall rolls his eyes, “i doubt it. Why - should i be?”

“Dunno!” Lyke eyes duvall’s plate and for a moment duvall considers pulling it away from him, but sighs and offers it out instead, “Some mystery military type, fresh back from San Fiel and looking exactly as you’d expect someone to look after spending time in a place that our lovely working folk call the blood fields.” his hand hovers over the plate, index finger waving in circles as if playing an eenie-meenie-minie-moe game in his head before picking his next treat - a strip of salami rolled around smoked cheese.

“Sounds enchanting” duvall deadpans, looking in through the tall glass doors as if he could see anything past the wall of bodies crowded round the dance floor, “where’s Es? Shouldn’t you be hanging off her arm at this time of night?”

“She’s getting the scoop, wouldn’t want to miss out on the freshest gossip, would she?” He punctuates the word scoop with a dipping motion of his hand, taking another savory snack that duvall is secretly grateful not to have to eat.

‘Oh, no. definitely couldn’t have that” Duvall doesn’t have to try hard to put on a flat tone now, his disinterest genuine, “would hate to not hear all about the latest duke’s son returning from his glory campaign. I would never wish her a fate so cruel as that”

before duvall has the chance to point it out lyke sucks at it loudly and duvall reconsiders his take on lyke’s manners as he finishes picking it free and flicks whatever it was out over the railing and into the garden below. he continues as if nothing happened, “nah, this guy looks pretty gnarly. They’re covered in an annoying amount of medals but it looks like there’s a decent chance at least a few of them were earned”

Lyke leans down and into duvall’s space, opening one eye wide and squeezing the other shut, “got some wicked face injury, i can’t tell if his eye is glass or what but it looks pretty sick.”

“Sick” duvall echoes, unimpressed.

“Hell yeah, i actually am pretty excited to talk to them, you can just tell there are some good stories rattling around up in there” Lyke stands back up and taps his head. His smile softens around the edges and duvall hears the doors behind him open.

the lady Es comes to stand between them, Lyke taking a few quick steps backwards to give her space to rest her arms neatly on the railing. She smiles primly at lyke before grinning at duvall, speaking low and conspiratorial in their native tongue, “i’ve got some information that might actually interest you: the man has no family, he doesn’t even pretend to have a claim to any local house and will only give a first name!”

Lyke leans his chin on her head and she tips her face up, switching to the local language as if they didn’t all know that Lyke understood Aldominian perfectly well. Her voice is rich and smooth, but her smile is small and sharp, “they claim only to be a child of Eastern Folly - of Blackwick - and says their ties to the land grant him as much a right to be here as any of us.”

Lyke laughs, “as if anyone would ever try to throw a guy like that out”

“His sword does hang openly at his side - true. But i think the reason it’s unlikely that that anyone would challenge them is because to succeed would be to rid us all of the most interesting thing to happen in years, and we wouldn’t want that”

Duvall releases a long breath, trying to mentally prepare himself for a season of exhausting conversations, “no, we wouldn’t want that”

……Regency Era AU

Keep reading

#sangfielle #chine/duvall #regency au wip #it’s unedited so don’t expect anything to be properly capitalized but i think maybe i’ll duck around and post this on tumblr as it’s done #rather than wait until it’s 100% written and edited for ao3? idk #so far i’ve got this intro - most of chapter one - and a good chunk of flashback written #along with all sorts of outline and isolated scenes #…but that’s where most of my wips are #here’s hoping my partner decides he wants to keep talking at me abt jane austen so my urge to work on this stays strong lol

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castlestormed · 2 years ago

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A Whole-ass Situation

SUMMARY:

April's week has been kinda normal so far. But then her phone — with its "unbreakable" phone case — breaks. And there is a lot of angry yelling coming from the lair.

(an exploration of April O'Neil and her place within her second family)

[ hurt/comfort, genfic, au, loosely based on events from the movie - which is to say less doomsday drama and more family drama ]

CHARACTERS:

April, the boys, Splinter

Read elsewhere: [A03]

---

April's week has been kinda normal so far — by April O'Neil standards anyway. She’d settled into a comfortable groove with her freshman classes at Eastlaird, she just got a big lead on a story she was working for the university press, and best of all her weekend was about to begin! All signs were clearly pointing towards an awesome one.

Then she gets butter fingers all of a sudden and drops her phone. It meets concrete and promptly shatters into a billion pieces. She's not too worried about losing what's on it; Donnie could fix it up for her before she really needs it. It’s just weird because she's never usually that clumsy. She's dropped her phone before and the cute cat case was usually pretty good at holding things together.

She brushes off the vague feeling of premonition on her way to the lair and has nearly managed to shake it off when she hears the yelling. The boys are always loud so the volume is not what sets off her weird meter for the second time that day. When she gets to the den, the tension in the air is so palpable that she does not even need to meet Mikey's panicked stare to know that something's wrong.

It's not weird that Leo and Raph are fighting again, but it's weird that Raph, who's usually so patient, can't seem to let go of this one. He continues to lose it for a solid minute after April arrives and she nearly covers her ears because it is loud in a way that Raph usually never is. The Raph that April grew up with was always careful about how much bigger he was than everyone else, so it was easy to forget that he could (and did — that boy definitely has not stopped growing yet) dwarf all of them put together. One glance around the room was enough to tell her that his brothers were also going through a similar, nervous train of thought.

Well, two of them were. The target of Raph's ire was doing his best to look as unrepentant as possible. She would have admired his composure in any other situation, but right now all she could feel was exasperation because now was not the time.

…okay. Okay. First things first.

April seizes an opening and wades in, planting herself between the guys. Shuts them both up before any more arguing can happen, and splits them up so that the tension in the room has space to let out. Raph, grumbling like an engine forced on standby, stomps to the garage. April sends Mikey to the kitchen to get something to sweeten the biggest brother's temper, then with Donnie at her side, wringing his hands as he provides a concise play-by-play of the evening to catch her up, she faces off with the fourth brother who has settled himself on the couch with nary a care in the world.

The things that make Leo the team's face man are also the things that make Leo difficult to level with when he does not feel like being serious. April, who likes straight lines in between points A and B, has to really reach for her patience for this one. Leo can and will talk circles around topics he doesn't want to touch and it's infuriating, but April's played this game with him before. There's a little moment in the bravado where he lets slip a little "Okay, yeah, I messed up, but—" and she sees some genuine regret on his face in the after of that thought. Small win, but she'll take it.

Ultimately the conversation ends with Leo steering it in the direction he wants it to go, which isn't ideal, but April just lets it happen. She smacks him lightly on the head with an open palm, half-jokes about him being such a troublemaker, and half-threatens that he better think over his actions next time or he'll have her to deal with if it all goes to shit.

When she goes to check on Raph, he's working out his frustrations on a near-decimated training dummy. Mikey's treats are perched nearby, untouched. April grabs two and munches on one. The other she makes Raph take. She has to bully him a little to get him to do so, and the fact that he lets her is something she takes as a good sign.

Unlike with Leo, she's the one who leads this conversation. She asks questions, Raph answers. She sympathizes while he ruminates. Out of the four, April's always found it easiest to talk to Raph. While not always the sharpest tool in the shed, Raph at least was earnest and honest. They're a bit similar, in a way. Shared short fuses and explosive tempers borne from holding things in too tight. Once the anger passed though, you could count on it being gone.

There's a hesitation in his tone when he apologizes for his temper. Didn't want her to see that. Must have been scary, coming from a big guy like him, but Leo was really pushing him and he couldn't stop—

April ducks under his arm and draws him into a hug before the catch in his throat makes his words unintelligible.

She leaves him to tidy up and nearly runs into Splinter on her way out. Looked like he'd been hovering by the entrance to the garage for a while. April wonders why he didn't go in. She also wonders, more importantly, why he didn't intervene in the first place. Splinter responds vaguely. Says that he did, that he’d assumed everything was alright, but it started up again for some reason. He doesn't even go into the garage; just peeks in, notes his eldest, and then walks off to... wherever.

And look, April loves Splinter just as much as she loves the boys. He has been nothing but kind to her, and more besides. But... Maybe it's because he's so much older than her that she just doesn't get him sometimes? Maybe she doesn't get it yet because he's the adult here and she doesn't know all that much about being an adult. If he thought it was better to leave the boys alone to work things out, then maybe that was the best thing to do.

It's hard to understand though because at this moment she doesn’t think it was the best thing to do at all. It’s harder still to reconcile how he can be so close to the boys and yet so distant at the same time, given all they've been through. One day she'll have the guts to ask him why that is. Not today though. Today's already kind of a handful.

Speaking of which, the brother that usually fits that descriptor is right where she expects him to be. He asks her to pass the sugar when she enters the kitchen, and that's when April realizes that Raph's treats had been homemade. Because of course they were.

Mikey's more than a little happy to receive the praise she heaps on him. If he notices that she lays it on a little thicker than usual, he doesn't comment on it.

While Raph was yelling at Leo, Mikey had been right in between them, frozen in the act of holding Leo back, directly in the line of Raph's fire even though he himself was not the target. The look on his face back then had said everything.

And they don't talk about it. Instead April alternates between helping him out and trying to be sneaky about sampling the cookie dough. He's only half serious when he tells her off for the latter; she can tell because he lets her have the spatula when he's done with it. She would have helped him clean up afterwards, but he shoos her out with a fresh batch of treats and glassy eyes that are quick to look away.

Because April can take a hint, she makes a mental note to give him a hug at some point in the next 24 hours before she makes her way over to the last resident of the lair.

Donnie's right where she expects him to be, too. As usual he’s working on something, but he drops everything at the prospect of freshly baked goods. April dutifully clears up some space on the next table and pulls up a stool, while Donnie does the same. When they're comfortably situated in the cool quiet of his lab, he casually asks if she managed to settle his dumdum brothers.

After he'd given April that rundown of the events that sparked the latest Raph-Leo altercation earlier, Donnie had quietly removed himself from further confrontation. April hadn't missed the way those hands — steady now as they held up delicious Mikey-made treats — shook ever so slightly in the aftermath of Raph's rage. While Mikey had held back Leo, Donnie tried to do the same with Raph but with spectacularly less success. It's not like it was unexpected. With the exception of Splinter (and maybe even that was just on his best days), there was nobody in the lair who had the raw strength to match up to an angry, uninhibited Raph.

Facts don't hold much weight to a bruised ego, though. Donnie used to nurse his pride with tears back in the day, but that's long since been replaced by snark so prickly that anyone who didn't know him would think that he didn't care for his brothers at all.

April, who did know him, kept her mouth stuffed with pastry and let him vent. There's an art to the way he does it so it's not like it's not entertaining. She's well-practiced at playing the audience, nodding, frowning or vocalizing whatever emotional response the current line of conversation calls for at just the right moments. Donnie complains about everything that went wrong about the mission. He complains about Leo's antics and the extra work they have to do now to make sure that the Foot isn't planning anything crazy. When he complains about Raph, it's framed like less of a complaint and more an off-hand comment on how annoying it is to have a brother that big. He already has his hands full keeping the lair tech up to date, gathering information for their missions, keeping tabs on villains and juggling all of that with training and patrols so that he doesn't physically fall behind. Don't get him wrong, those are all things he is reasonably-to-confidently certain he can do.

But... that whole situation earlier? Well.

The eyebrows on his mask crease together as he crosses his arms over his chest and hunches over the table. Scrubs away at crumbs on his cheek as he admits to following Mikey's lead and feeling sheer panic when he realized too late that Mikey was just as lost as he was on how to handle things.

He startles when April tosses her handkerchief at his face.

"Guess it's a good thing I came along, huh?"

That earns her a soft chuckle and affirmation, sincere with a touch of sarcasm.

And because this is Donnie, she finds a way to steer the conversation to something less touchy-feely — which is easy since she actually did need his help. That herbicide wasn't gonna test itself. There was the matter of her phone too, which Donnie immediately ribs her about, and the rest of the evening evens out into the lair's usual calm.

Mikey comes in at one point to say goodnight and he pulls both April and a reluctant but pliant Donnie into a hug.

April keeps Donnie company until she finds herself drooping drowsily over her research. She’s not sure if it’s the sleep fog playing tricks or what but she could swear that he’d mumbled a “Thanks” just as the door to his lab slid shut behind her.

Before she retires to her room, she brings some blankets to Leo, who'd fallen asleep on the couch, belatedly realizing that someone else had beaten her to it and also left a small stuffed bear to keep the sleeping turtle company.

The next morning, bright and early, April nearly runs into a barely-awake Donnie, who seems to have just emerged from his lab since the last time she saw him. They walk to the kitchen where Mikey’s at the stove, cooking up breakfast (waffles) while whistling the Jupiter Jim theme song under his breath. The two that were at odds with one another the other evening are seated on opposite sides of the counter, not making eye contact but not actively sniping at each other either. Splinter serves everyone tea, which Donnie grumbles about until Leo plops a mug of freshly made coffee in front of him and asks what sciency madness kept him up this time.

It’s just April’s luck that Donnie decides to tell them about her phone right then. Naturally, they all take turns making fun of her because how could you break it, April, didn’t Donnie make that case out of, like, reinforced steel or something?

She has every right to be grumpy about all the ribbing, but you know what? It’s fine. She steals some of Donnie’s coffee, sweet talks Mikey into giving her the best waffles off the iron, and unapologetically dumps most of the good butter on her plate to the pleasant cacophony of teenage mutant ninja protests.

#rottmnt #rottmnt fanfiction #april o'neil #rottmnt raph #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt splinter #gen fic

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mllemaenad · 4 years ago

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So I just started a new DA2 playthrough, and remembered something that I'd love to get your thoughts and opinions on, especially since your Joanna romanced Anders. If you give Fenris to Danarius, basically everyone disapproves, except Anders, who actually *approves*. I understand the basics: he's so far gone to his cause he wants everyone who disagrees with him *gone*, fellow ex-slave or no, but I'd love to see if you had a more in-depth thought process on it. Thanks!

Hi. :)

I ... honestly don’t have much in the way of deep thoughts on Anders himself here, because I don’t think Anders is the core problem. I’ve seen people wring their hands over that +5 before, and it’s always confused me. I feel like if you’re worrying about the minutiae of a +5 to friendship you are not grappling with the full horror of what just happened. This whole quest is a catastrophic failure of the friendship/rivalry system.

So - the quest page is here.

Digging a little further tells me that on XBox, at least, Isabela will give a +5 to rivalry for the threat to Fenris’s sister, but nothing for Fenris himself. She has a line, objecting to Hawke’s actions, but no friendship/rivalry change.

I mean - what the hell are we looking at here? Do you know? Because I absolutely do not.

We have a solid +10 rivalry average for handing a friend over to a slaver. I can make that back with two moderately funny purple responses in the right places. In fact, as this is an Act 3 quest I would imagine that many people are missing some or all of these changes because they’ve already maxed out their companions’ scores one way or another. It’s an utter non-event.

Merrill, whose people were enslaved en masse by Tevinter, who lost her whole culture to them and is scrabbling to reclaim it, gives a +10 to rivalry when a fellow elf is handed over to a Tevinter Magister for enslavement and torture. Isabela, the pirate captain who liberates slaves has no followup on that at all. Our biggest rivalry gain is from Aveline, at +15, and - wow. Impressive. A whole 15 rivalry points for doing the worst possible thing to a long-time friend and comrade.

+10! +10! What does it mean? “We can still go for drinks later, but we’re going to sulk”? “Hawke, you’re barred from game night for the next two weeks for that silliness”? I can’t let it go. Those little +10s to rivalry make me much angrier than Anders’s +5 to friendship because they’re treated as sufficient. Anders’s +5 causes distress and dismay, because it worries people that he approves of slavery, but a tiny +10 to rivalry for one of the worst things you can do in this game - and we are not a little bit worried about everyone else’s moral compass?

This isn’t the dealbreaker? This isn’t the day we all leave and never talk to Hawke again? Why the fuck not?

So - for context, in The Urn of Sacred Ashes, back in Origins, Leliana will literally fight you to the death over desecrating the relic; if you spare Loghain in The Landsmeet, Alistair will leave you; if you don’t murder Anders in The Last Straw in retaliation for the death of Grand Cleric Elthina, Sebastian will leave and wage war on Kirkwall. But we can give Fenris to a slaver and it’s fucking fine. Oh, we’re a little annoyed, but we’ll get over it

I am so angry. Not at you, for talking about it, but at the writing in this quest. I don’t think there’s anything very meaningful to be said about Anders specifically. He and Fenris loathe each other. They fight and they poke each other’s sore spots. It seemed like a good idea to someone to give Anders a minor friendship bump if Fenris leaves. When the positions are (broadly speaking) reversed, and Fenris gets to comment on Anders’s fate in The Last Straw he says “He wants to die. Kill him and be done with it”. This is not Fenris having strong opinions about the mage rebellion - although he does have those elsewhere. This is a very broad, facile “fuck that guy”. Obviously the circumstances differ, but in terms of caring about each other’s wellbeing they’re about the same. Fuck that guy. If he’s going away, I’m having a good day.

Was it tacky for Bioware to put that +5 friendship into Alone? Yes. Definitely. But I don’t think it means anything at all about Anders or his view on slavery or his cause, because if I did think that, I’d have to think the other companions’ responses were significant too. I’d have to think that their firm position on this is to wrinkle their collective noses a little and then forget about it. And - I’m just going to do the obvious and gesture emphatically at Isabela’s whole character arc here in refutation of that.

I’m not opposed to evil choices in RPGs. That’s ... kind of how role playing works. But this one is so utterly facile as to be revolting. There are no meaningful consequences for this. And while it is possible to do other revolting things in Dragon Age, things done to companions stand out, because from a narrative perspective they matter. We can say in theory that the deaths of unnamed NPCs are bad and wrong - but it will be the characters we know and love that we mourn over. This isn’t the only bad choice you can make, but it’s a really big one.

For Joanna - this is a non-issue. She’s not going to hand anyone over to a slaver, much less her friend, so (mercifully) I do not have to try to rationalise this nonsense.

For anyone going to because they’ve committed to an evil playthrough? This might be a really good time to bring in “Varric is an unreliable narrator” and head canon yourself some reasonable fallout.

#pocketfox #dragon age #dragon age 2 #Hawke #fenris #anders #joanna hawke

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scriptaed · 5 years ago

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his side, her side | 11:11 A.M.

genre: angst/fluff/implied smut;

pairing: reader x jungkook;

length: 3.1k;

synopsis: a collective snapshots in time shared between two, whose fates were undeniably intertwined and futures would never come to be.

a/n: alternatively: his side, her side pt. 10;

her side;

“So do you like him or not?”

This must be the first time someone, besides yourself, has ever raised suspicions at your blossoming fondness for a particular man. The last time you had questioned your affections was at the pinnacle of a relation you’ve so desperately attempted to smother. You can still recall the pull of his magnetic force, his hands on your cheeks, and the way the touch of his lips are enough to envelop you with warmth, even whilst in the midst of a pool at midnight. Your feelings for him were confirmed then, it’s unequivocal; and despite burying such an epiphany after all these weeks, your heart still grows tender over a memory you wish had never existed in the first place.

“What?” you turn to give Yezi the most bewildered face you could muster just as you plop your hamper onto the floor. “Like who?”

Your friend glares at you with her crossed arms and deadpans, “you know who I mean and if I need to say his name aloud for you to answer, you bet I will.”

Knowing full well just how seriously Yezi takes her words, your eyes bulge at her bold proclamations before frantically scanning the laundry room of your apartment for possible witnesses. Just as you’re about to exhale in relief, your friend follows through with her promise a level or two higher than you would have liked.

“Wait, Yezi—”

“—Jungkook! Your colleague, your ex partner! Jeon Jungkook!” she throws her arms up. “Do you like him or what?”

“Shh,” you almost jab a finger at her mouth and hiss, “are you trying to start rumors about me at work?”

“Well, no, but it doesn’t matter if they’re not true, right?” she somehow manages to say with your fingers pressed against her squished lips. “Why have you been avoiding him lately anyways?”

“What do you mean I’ve been avoiding him?” The crease of your brows is the best look of disbelief you could gather. “I haven’t been avoiding him.”

Her chest heaves as she lets out a frustrated sigh, “oh, really?”

It isn’t much of a surprise to you that Yezi could see right through you. Typically, after all the training you’ve undergone at pretending to get along with your coworkers, you’ve done an adequate job at masking your organic thoughts; but ever since you met him, Jeon Jungkook, you’ve caught yourself slipping up more than you would like. From genuine laughter to unapologetic cackles, from daring staring challenges to bashful peeks through the corners of your eyes, and from greeting him whenever you had the chance to going out of your way to avoid him at all costs, any fool could tell your affections for the man has changed with time. Whether the change is for the better or worse, Yezi couldn’t tell because not even you could explain it yourself.

If Yezi knew you had attempted to cover your face as you crossed paths with Jungkook only for your pitiful efforts to be in vain when he calls your name out wide into the open because you were shy, she would have made fun of you. If she knew you had almost completely turned around while going up the stairs because you spotted him climbing down the stairs only for him to call out to you once again and for you to freeze because you noticed just how well his new ear piercing suited him, she would have rightfully suspected your growing infatuation; but if she were to discover you had meticulously planned out your paths at work in order to avoid the man of such admirations, she would have never understood your logic.

The only conclusion you could surmise of your seemingly contradicting actions would have been a dreadful punishment to have to say aloud: you’ve never been the unconfident type before, but to put it simply, the boy is just too gorgeous for you to be unfazed...

...and luckily, you don’t have to explain yourself, because the second reasoning behind your complexity has arrived.

“Hey Y/N, are you using that washer?”

She knows your name…? Jennie? Of all people?

“Oh, uh,” you snap out of your thoughts and nod, “yeah, I am. Sorry.”

“No, that’s fine,” she presses her lips into a tight, small smile, “I’ll come back later.”

And with that, the girl gently shuts the door behind her and the silence left behind is almost as if she had never entered before. Turning to glance at each other, you and your friend are nearly at a loss for words over the sudden appearance of the very person you had been on the lookout for; but before you could switch the topic, Yezi beats you to it.

“Since when did she know your name?”

“I don’t know. Never talked to her before,” you blink blankly, barely able to mumble as you proceed to squat to floor level and insert a quarter into the washer, “I didn’t even know she lived in this complex.”

“Neither did I,” Yezi leans against the machine as she warily observes your every expression before proceeding, “do you think the rumors about… him… and her are true?”

Shit—you think to yourself, even as you try to conceal the sudden restriction in your chest—who knew even the thought of them two together could make you feel like this.

“Jennie, just listen—”

—the two of you turn heads to find Jungkook at the doorway; and while Yezi walks up to confront him, you quickly whip your head around and position your back on him in a desperate attempt to hide your presence… because out of all times and places, your crush just has to appear in your apartment complex with you in your most vulnerable, unseen state, bare-faced and in your pajamas.

Not to mention, how are you supposed to hide the dreadful drop in your stomach that wrings you dry? Why is he here? And why is he calling out to Jennie?

“Jennie actually just left,” you can hear Yezi’s voice fading into the distance as she exits the room, “here, in this direction, over heeere.”

...and finally, when the door clicks closed and you internally finish thanking Yezi for her efforts in luring the boy elsewhere, you let out a bated breath. Without having to worry about your untidy appearance, you toss the remainder of your panties, bras, and bright pink pillowcases into the washer. Standing to your feet and heaving a sigh of relief as you watch the washer dispense heaps of water onto your undergarments, you whirl around and—

“—hey—”

“—holy shit,” you almost yelp when you find Jungkook standing right before you, pressing his lips into a crooked smile at you. Why does he always have to go out of his way to seek you out? And even though you had been fussing over your appearance just a few seconds prior, you find yourself frozen and distracted by his presence once again. Today, you’re blaming that mustard sweater of his; because even though he tends to stray from colors outside of navy, gray, white, and black, the boy had somehow made mustard his color. All you can muster is a wide-eye and an uttered, “whoa.”

The boy lowers his eyes to glance at his own sweater, letting out an embarrassed chuckle. Looking back at it now, you should have explicitly complimented him instead; but before you could snap out of your frenzy and save yourself from the guilt, Jungkook persists, “how has life been for you?”

“Huh? Life?” you repeat. Oh, right, what else is there to talk about now that you two are no longer acquainted at work? Then why is he trying to strike up a conversation? You hope to God he won’t be mentioning the kiss on that particular night. “I mean, good, I guess. What about you?”

“Really? ‘Good?’” he scrunches his brows and cracks a grin of disbelief. “I guess I’m asking the wrong person.”

“What?” you can’t help the laugh that escapes your lips. “What do you mean?”

“It hasn’t been too great for me,” he buries his hands into his pockets and grins helplessly. “Work and life, I mean. I’ve fucked up at both.”

“Oh… really? I’m sure it’ll be okay—” for the first time, less words come to you than the boy before you “—why are you here? You don’t live here.”

“How do you know that?” he raises a brow.

“Because you told me you live on the other side of the bridge.”

“Oh, I did?” he chuckles. “Why can’t I be here?”

“Not saying you can’t—” because, really, you’re more concerned over the possible relations between him and the girl who had “coincidentally” entered just seconds prior “—I was just asking.”

“You own this whole complex?” he quips, cocking a wry grin at you. “Can’t I hang out with some friends?”

“Right, friends…” you mutter to yourself, even if you don’t believe it yourself. “No, go right ahead. I’m not stopping you.”

The faded smiles and playful bickers, however, ring a different tone from your last remark. It’s almost as if Jungkook could read right through you. The tension, the distrust, and the discomfort, nothing has been the same since that particular moment. Sure, you had obviously been avoiding him because of your bashful nature and you’re sure that even he could tell from your abrupt movements, albeit his awareness of your reasons is more than likely nonexistent, but his relations to not only Jennie but to Jieun and his reluctance to disclose said relations has you boarding up walls once again.

To be led on by a man would be the demise of your pride—the very last thing you’re holding onto; and whilst there was a moment in time when you thought two could play at such games, your heart has betrayed you and the tides have turned against your favor.

“Y/N,” Jungkook begins firmly, “about that night—”

“—weren’t you looking for a friend?” you cut him off, pressing a thin smile as he glances at you with a raised brow. “What was her name again? Jennie?”

The boy only stares at you for a silent ten seconds. Confusion and conflict flashes across his eyes until, finally, he settles for a helpless competence. “Yeah,” he utters, taking a step back and nodding, “I’ll see you around, then.”

It was the dirtiest card you could pull. It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t mean you’re in the right. It doesn’t mean you’re proud of it… but, sometimes, the best trump to win a futile game of tag is a refusal to play at all.

This just happens to be one of those pivotal moments.

Glancing at the remaining countdown on the washer and checking the clock on your phone, you almost laugh at the coincidental time plastered across the screen.

11:11 A.M.

And you wish he never realizes that your refusal to play is, in fact, a confession of love.

his side;

“So do you like her or not?”

Unfazed by Jennie’s outburst, Jungkook simply answers, “what does that have to do with you losing your shit?”

“I am not,” she spits, pointing an accusing finger at him, “losing my shit.”

“Then why talk shit about me to Jieun?”

Jennie pauses in her tracks, eyes lowering to the floor covered in Jungkook’s clothes. Her voice comes out meekly, “...she told you?”

“No shit,” he remarks, catching the t-shirt he had lent Jennie as she hurls it at him. “Why do you hate me all of a sudden?”

“Does it matter if I hate you?” she rebuttals as she balls up another tee and tosses it at his face with a huff. The girl persists on her mission without a single glance at the boy towering beside her. “Do you even care what I think of you?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Her hands pause and she mutters, “don’t say that when you don’t mean it,” before continuing to sort through her pile of clothes intermixed with his.

“I don’t get it,” he runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Didn’t we both agree this would be a casual thing? You went on dates and I was okay with it—”

“—I didn’t!” she abruptly cuts herself off, scrunching his gray tee in her hands until her hands turn pale. “...I didn’t want you to be okay with it.”

“Jennie…” Jungkook considers consoling her but she shifts her body away from him. “Sorry. I thought you were over this—”

“—I was over this!” she snaps, whirling around to reveal the scowl on her face as she hurls another sweater at him. “I was over us! And I was okay with you moving onto Jieun until one day, she comes to my front door and bawls her eyes out because you did a one-eighty just like you did with me. Is it because of her, Jungkook? Why does it always have to be her?”

Jungkook says flatly, “Jieun and I were never dating,”

“I said,” Jennie bites her tongue to repress her anger, “was. it. because. of. Y/N?”

It shouldn’t have been a surprise to Jennie when the boy remains silent with those unreadable eyes of his. Jungkook’s choice to protect her, however, only fuels the fire. He can’t choose to protect Y/N and expect Jennie to act as if nothing had happened between him and her; but when he finally answers...

“It isn’t Y/N’s fault. I should’ve figured things out beforehand. Sorry.”

...his reluctance to blame her scapegoat and willingness to assume accountability infuriates Jennie to a level she never knew she could harbor toward Jungkook. She knows she doesn’t deserve an apology and she knows Jungkook still felt slightly remorseful despite knowing full well that their relations were born of nothing but lust; and yet, it’s the only thing she craves that could quell the emerald fire within her.

“And what about Jieun?” she speaks under her breath. “What about leading her on?”

“I fucked up. I know that,” he utters. “I apologized to her.”

“Whatever…” she sighs the remainder of tension pent up in her system as she stands to her feet and tosses the last gym shorts at his chest, eyes narrowing and lips downturning when she spots the irregular shade of his hoodie.

“What?” the boy chuckles. “You think this looks shitty too? Remind me to burn this shit when I get home.”

“Did Y/N say it looks shitty?” Jennie asks, arching a brow. “Does she even like you?”

The grin on his face gradually blends into his usual illegible look of apathy as he states, “...no. Probably not.”

To which question he’s answering, Jennie would rather not ask. Instead, she places a hand on his chest, gently pushing him step by step in the direction of her bed with each following remark.

“Are you still with Jieun?”

Step. The answer is clear.

“Do you remember all the fun nights we’ve had?”

Step. He doesn’t answer.

“Does Y/N even like you?”

Step. Neither of them knew the answer. Finally, the back of his knees hit the bedframe and Jennie gently seats him to the ledge of her mattress where the two had spent many nights together in her long-coveted past. One hand on the mattress beside where he sits and the other hand pressed against his chest, Jennie stirs on.

“You know, we could forget anything ever happened and return to the way things were before. I could forgive you, you could move on, I could wear your sweaters again, and you could spend your nights with me whenever you’re feeling down. We could be together, you and me,” she coos but something about her voice comes across as a plea. The unfazed beat of his heart beating against her hand almost has her clutching the sweater in self-pity. Her voice nearly cracks as she persists, “you know how I feel about you, don’t you?”

Not a second passes before Jungkook firmly shakes his head, peering his eyes up at the woman and speaking straight from his heart, “you’ve been a great friend and I don’t want to lose that, but I don’t feel the same. Sorry.”

“You’re—” Jennie suddenly retracts her hand, standing upright and taking a step back with a constrained huff “—whatever. Have fun with her if that’s what makes you happy, but you’ll regret this.”

Jungkook frowns as he helplessly watches the departure of a friend he had shared countless nights with, occasionally indulging in their beneficial relations and other times counting on her to bear his midnight blues. He might not have felt the spark that he experiences around Y/N, but Jennie had been his friend all along. “Where are you going?”

“Somewhere,” Jennie shrugs without a single glance back at Jungkook, “anywhere away from you, really.”

To sacrifice one friend in pursuit of someone whomst, from all he could tell, has no intentions of reciprocating similar convictions, he can’t help but feel as though everyone has abandoned him. The worst part of it is, he doesn’t know who else to blame but himself.

Junghyun [11:55 A.M.] Yo you interested in a blind date?

The boy rolls his eyes at his brother’s ill-timed proposition.

You [11:55 A.M.] The fuck. No.

Junghyun [11:56 A.M.] Okay, I know you hate strangers, but TECHNICALLY this isn’t a blind date. Jieun wanted me to set up a dinner with you for her…

You [11:57 A.M.] ?

You [11:59 A.M.] If she asked you this last week, then forget it. We aren’t a thing anymore.

Junghyun [12:00 P.M.] No, she begged me just yesterday. She said she wants to start over.

Junghyun [12:00 P.M.] C’mon, just one dinner?

Junghyun [12:01 P.M.] Just cause you messed things up with her, doesn’t mean you should mess up my friendship with her! >:(

Staring at the texts on his screen, Jungkook fiddles with his phone until finally falling backwards and collapsing onto the bed with a loud sigh. He can still remember the wrath painted across Jennie’s expression during her uproar and the pain he had inflicted upon Jieun when he confessed he had not intended to have led her on; but most predominantly, the evident discomfort on Y/N’s face when she had avoided him in the past month or when he had mentioned their shared moment of intimacy still stains his mind hours after.

The mere thought of hurting her the same way he must have hurt Jennie and Jieun evokes more gnawing pain against his chest than he ever thought he would experience. Realizing that he would never hear a more explicit rejection to his confession has him lingering onto a hope that he has more than now recognized as fruitless.

Maybe a new start would be the best choice.

Not only for him but for her, too.

You [12:15 P.M.] Fine

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mischiefandspirits · 4 years ago

Text

Colony of Gotham (5/7)

The Colony of Gotham is an urban legend that is whispered about in the dangerous city. It’s said the Colony is a family of demons and spirits that stalk the night, hunting for the souls of the guilty.

When Bruce became Batman, he’d never intended to be mistaken for a demon. He was happy to lean into it, though, and as he gained his partners – as his family grew – they all followed suit.

First Part ~ Previous Part ~ Next Part

Vampires’ animal forms

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The zeta had barely finished announcing the departure of the speedsters to Gotham when a hissing voice echoed through the Watchtower.

“Yeah, you probably shouldn’t have done that. But I’m sure they’ll come out in mostly one piece. Maybe not alive but probably one piece. Shame. They didn't seem too bad. For heroes.”

Everyone was immediately on their feet and in fighting stances. Wonder Woman demanded to know who was there and the voice announced itself as Pythia the Coded Serpent, Oracle of Gotham and Advisor to the Colony. For a moment, every screen around them flicked to an image of a python with dark green feathers in the place of scales and looming shadow-like bat wings stretching out from it. Its empty white eyes stared them down, then it was gone and when they tried to speak to the voice, it didn’t answer. They tried to contact the speedsters and Tigress, but their calls wouldn’t go through. Zatanna tried to dispel whatever magic the serpent had used, but couldn’t. Without any idea where the speedsters had gone, all the older heroes could do was sit and wait.

Meanwhile, Young Justice and Supergirl immediately sent messages to Tim, Stephanie, and Bette, asking them to let them know if they saw Wally and Bart and got thumbs up emojis in response.

The three did not text them when Wally and Bart arrived at the manor.

Instead, they stayed hidden in the cave with Barbara and watched Dick tell them Tim was out before giving them both a dumbfounded expression when they asked him about Batman.

“Bat-who?”

He waved off all their questions, saying Batman was just a myth and he wouldn’t have told Wally if he’d known the stories would spook him like that. All the same, the spooky stories had been banned from the manor for the time being since Cass had started to have nightmares lately. They kept trying to get him to talk, but he soon received a text and had to leave to pick up Carrie from a friend’s house.

When the speedsters got back to the Watchtower no worse for wear without even seeing a bat, they all thought Pythia was just bluffing.

Then they found a small, bat-shaped listening device on Kid Flash’s boot. No one could explain how it had gotten there. No one, not even Dick, had gotten close to him while he was in Gotham.

Then again, few people notice Cass when she doesn’t want them to.

Over the course of the following week, the same kind of bugs were found by all the heroes who’d been at the meeting, and some who weren’t. And it wasn’t always when they were suited up. Lois Lane, Superman’s wife, found one in the pocket of a pair of his lazy jeans, Troia found one stuck to her work camera, and one of the Green Lanterns stormed into the Watchtower, cursing out Superman and Wonder Woman for ticking off demons after he’d found one on his ring. The only relief they could find was that none of the bugs were turned on, but it was a small relief.

The message was clear: The Colony knew exactly who they were and could get to them without them ever knowing they were there.

The only ones who didn’t receive bugs were Flash -- who was happy to say, “I told you so!” to anyone who brought it up -- and Tigress -- who left any time someone brought up the Colony. The one and only time someone tried to stop her, she flipped them over her shoulder then said, “I wouldn’t pick a fight with Joker so I’m sure as hell not messing with the only thing that can take him down. Leave. Batman. Be.”

Safe to say, by the end of the week everyone was jumping at shadows.

Which meant the call they received was a bit overkill.

Wonder Woman, Superman, Flash, Wonder Girl, and Nightwing were debriefing after a joint mission between the League and Young Justice when all the screens in the room filled with static and the lights dimmed halfway. The largest screen then lit up with the image of a figure. Most of him couldn’t be seen, the dark patches of hair, mask, and suit blending into the shadows that surrounded him, but this only made his pale face and the bright blue streak on his chest and arms stand out more. Black lips split into a sharp smile as the creature realized he had their attention.

He greeted them each in turn, reaching Nightwing last and referring to him as “Copycat.”

“Nightwing?” Superman said, stepping towards the screen.

“In the flesh. Or as close to it as I come. Well, sort of. Got a little help from Pythia.”

If the group had looked at some of the other screens, they might have noticed the shapes of serpents moving through the static. Unfortunately, no one dared look away from the man so Barbara’s hard work went unnoticed.

“What do you want?”

The spirit’s head tilted to the side, slipping past his shoulder in a way that made his neck look broken. “Wasn’t that obvious?” He chirped. Then his head was straight up and he wasn’t smiling. “I’m here to warn you. Stay out of Gotham. If anyone wanted you here, they would have asked. And the little magic kid doesn’t count. As any Gothamite would tell you: Gotham problems are Gotham’s problem. Get lost, Metropolis.”

Flash couldn’t help but snort, having heard those last three words more times than he could count from both his partners. He regretted it instantly when he felt the spirit turn his attention to him, though he couldn’t tell you how he knew when all he could see where his eyes should have been was void.

The demon’s lips pulled up into a smile again, but this one was less fangs and more mischief. “You should take my words seriously. I had planned to leave my Flamebird alone until it was time for us to be together again. But if you keep it up, I might just need to steal my fire away now.”

“Flamebird?” Superman asked.

“My love,” the spirit answered, though he kept his attention on Flash. “I recently found my fire in Blüdhaven. Such a beauty, as I’m sure you can all attest. After all, Flamebird is one of you.”

Before anyone could respond, he was gone. As the screens and lights returned to normal, they turned to each other. Flash was pale as he started wringing his hands. Nightwing barely started to ask what was wrong before Flash started fretting about how Tigress must have been the one the spirit meant. They lived in Blüdhaven together and no one else in the League was recorded as living there. Her blonde hair and orange suit and fiery attitude must have made the spirit think she was Flamebird. They had to do something!

They called Tigress up and showed her a recording of the video Wonder Girl had smartly taken. She glared at all of them as the video progressed and when Flash worried over her she rolled her eyes. She was from Gotham. She knew the Colony. If they came for her, they came for her. Worrying wasn’t going to do anything to stop people that managed to slip past their defenses time and again. The only concession she agreed to was asking Dick if he’d be alright staying at the manor for a few nights so they could have some personal time.

It wasn’t unusual. They each had stayed elsewhere on a few occasions since they’d moved in together. Sometimes they just needed time as a pair instead of a trio. As such, Dick agreed easily.

Despite her calm attitude, something about the video bothered Artemis. As they went home and readied for bed, it replayed over and over in her head. She didn’t recognize his voice, but something about the way he talked nagged at her. The quirk of his smile tugged at her brain. The way he’d focused on Wally then immediately started in on Flamebird after the speedster had snorted seemed strange too. The way he was teasing Wally, taunting him, it didn’t feel malevolent. More like he was screwing with him.

Artemis shot up in bed. “Goddamit Dick, you little troll!”

Wally woke up at her scream and jumped to his feet, looking around for trouble. When he didn’t see anything, he turned to her, only to see her pulling on sweatpants. He asked what was going on and she told him they needed to see Dick immediately. He tried to argue, but she just made him put on some clothes before dragging him out of the apartment. Once in the car, he complained about how he shouldn’t be getting punished when Dick was the one in trouble then nodded off until they reached the manor.

Artemis was already at the door by the time he climbed out of the car so he didn’t hear what she said to Jason when he let them in.

“So which demon spirit are you?”

He does notice when Jason grabs them both and hauls them around the mansion, through a secret door, and down into some giant cave.

He doesn’t know why it’s happening, but he is awake enough to register that it is happening.

They both end up tied to chairs with a serious Jason, a cheerful Cass, and an annoyed Tim standing over them.

“So what do we do with them?” Tim asked and Jason pulled out a gun.

Suddenly Wally was wide awake. “Woah, okay, what is happening? Where are we and why is Jason going to shoot us?”

“He’s not,” Cass said, which wasn’t very reassuring considering she was speaking over Jason’s, “You know too much.”

“Who knows too much?” Cullen asked, strolling in. He looked over the two captives and shrugged. “Come on, Cass. Time to go home. Leave the others to their games.”

Cass pouted, but followed her older brother out after giving Artemis and Wally a friendly wave.

“So what do we do with them?” Tim repeated.

Artemis proceeded to curse them both out now that there were no children in the vicinity before demanding to see Dick.

Jason’s response was to aim the gun between her eyes and pull the trigger.

Once she had a faceful of glitter, he said he’d go get Dick. He ignored her cursing as he swaggered back the way they’d come.

“Should have called the idiot and made him come to us,” she growled and Tim agreed. She shook her head to try to get rid of some of the glitter, to no avail.

“No, seriously, what is happening?”

“Your death.”

Wally shrieked and vibrated straight through his bonds. He spun around and found himself face to face with a giggling Carrie. Except that the voice coming from her was not her voice.

He looked at the others to see Tim was amused and Artemis was done. It was at that point that he took in the cave. His eyes widened. “Oh.”

Jason and Dick arrived, the latter looking sheepish. Artemis immediately tore into him.

“In my defense, you guys didn’t exactly tell me about your secret lives either.”

“You ALREADY KNEW!”

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell me. And hey, at least I told you I was a vampire.”

Both took a second to think about that as they realized they probably should have connected the large family filled with creatures of darkness to the creatures of darkness running around protecting Gotham.

“You still didn’t need to be a dick about it.” Dick opened his mouth at Artemis’s words. “Oh shut up, you know what I meant!”

As it hit Wally just how much the family had been messing with the League, he smirked. “You know what would really freak the League out?”

“No,” Artemis said as the siblings perked up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Young Justice were all hanging out in the Watchtower’s canteen, waiting for Kid Flash so they could have a team meeting, when Tigress came in to ask Troia and Aquaman if they’d seen Flash. Apparently, he’d left early that morning to check on their partner before monitor duty then disappeared. The last anyone had heard from him was when he’d asked Captain Marvel to fill in for him shortly after he’d left Tigress. She had called their partner, but apparently Flash had never shown up.

That was when Kid Flash raced in, looking terrified.

Flash had called him in the early morning and left a voicemail, but he had only just seen the message because his phone had died. When he’d charged it enough to turn on, he’d listened to the message and…

“Hey, kid. Wanted to see if you wanted to get lunch after I get off duty today. I’m getting to the manor now so I can ask Dick and Tim if they want to come too. Call me wh-Oh shi-What are you do-”

“Hello, my flame.”

Troia and Aquaman immediately sent a call out to everyone connected to the Batman case. No one was pleased to realize Nightwing thought Flamebird was Flash, not Tigress like they’d assumed. When the group checked, they found that the call came ten minutes before the one to Captain Marvel and came from the edge of Wayne Manor’s property line.

Hearing this, the team all spammed Tim with texts checking to see if he was okay.

The bird, having grown tired of all their smothering, sent them a picture of himself flipping them off with a caption saying he wasn’t a child and could take care of himself. He was from Gotham, not Metropolis. He then turned his phone off so he wouldn’t have to see their demeaning fretting.

If he hadn’t, he would have seen the group panicking over a shadow behind him that they were convinced was one of the Colony. Without the others noticing, the five snuck away to Gotham. Tim was less than pleased when he opened the door.

“Since when do you open the door for yourself?” Jinny asked.

“Since Alfred’s in England and Bruce and Selina are on their honeymoon. Why are you guys here?” Cassie showed him the picture and he slapped his forehead. “I knew you guys were getting paranoid, but this is ridiculous. That is my jacket.”

They refused to believe him so he offered to bring them up to his room to prove it. They made it halfway there before the sounds of thumps had him turning around to see them all unconscious on the floor, Jason and Cass standing over them.

“Seriously, Jason? Stop kidnapping everyone! You're ruining the bit!”

“You and Dickie are the ones who decided to drag your friends into what was supposed to be a family thing.”

“I told them I was fine! They’re the ones who just showed up for no reason!”

“You’re just mad Artemis isn’t here too,” Dick said as he and Wally walked up.

“Shut up, Dickhead. She’d kick all our asses if we dragged her into this and you know it. Now help me get them to the cave.”

“Definitely pouting,” Dick whispered to Wally and Jason slugged him.

#batman #batfam #colony of gotham #fanfiction

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tonystarkissist · 4 years ago

Text

IronDad Bingo Fic #7

Trope: Sick Fic

WARNING! Graphic depictions of mental illness

Also I am not an expert in this field, nor have I ever dealt with or been close with someone who has dealt with this type of illness. So I apologize for any medical/character inaccuracies or misrepresentation.

Tony wakes slowly, trying to ignore the incessant badgering going on inside his head, telling him to wake the hell up! It’s like a heavy fog of something. Something important that he should be feeling or doing, yet no recollection of what that something might be. Like, that instinctual, panicked drive to achieve a task without even knowing the importance of the task to begin with… so he ignores it, and tries to pull himself back into sleep, and away from this confusing state of consciousness.

Then, the bright morning sun shines through the open window, opposite his bed. He hums in annoyance when the sun hits his face and his eyes blink open lethargically to shoot a quick glare before they’re falling shut once more. Then he grunts and rolls over, away from the light because he wants to savor this moment of restful sleep, and he wants to stay far away from whatever the hell was happening outside of this peaceful cocoon of unconsciousness. He had just a simple taste of it moments earlier, and, god, he didn’t want to face that right now. He can’t even remember the last time he actually got a good night's sleep. Not after--

Thanos!

That wakes him up. He sits upright in bed, chest heaving with the strain of his harsh breaths.

Thanos.

He remembers Thanos. And then he remembers the battle. And God, Peter. He remembers losing Peter… He remembers the five years without Peter… the five long years of watching the world try and fail to recover from the disaster, and the stagnant state that was doomed to linger for generations to come.

He cradles his head in his hand and trembles. Oh god, why couldn’t he just forget? Why couldn’t he just forget about everything that happened and continue life with Pepper and Morgan, happy and healthy? Why couldn’t he just forget about Peter? And the battle? And Thanos? Because it was over! It was all over, everything’s been done, and there’s no way of reversing it...

But then he remembers something else from last night. Or at least he thinks he does… it’s at the tip of his tongue, a tap of information dawdling at the back of his mind and he strains to remember. He closes his eyes and clings to the small string of hope intertwined with the memory, but he can’t recall the picture. It pieces together slowly. The memory of a visit from old friends… then he remembers juice pops…. But there’s something in the middle. Something important that is being repressed and it seems that the harder he tries to reach for it the farther away it pulls…

Time travel! He figured out time travel!

He lifts his head from his hands and stares ahead at the window opposite his bed and he grins. Time Travel. He has a chance at bringing Peter back! He has a chance at fixing the mess of a world he’s created!

He throws the sheets from his legs and swings them around, ready to stand from the bed and get to work. But a sharp pain in his hip slows him down and he winces. And then it’s in his leg. And then it’s in his shoulder. Then his back. And his neck… and why did everything hurt? It was a constant dull throb that he hadn’t even realized was there until he started moving. Did he go out as Iron Man again and get injured? He didn’t think he did… but he grabbed for his left arm, cradling his elbow in his right hand as if on instinct as he pondered all the facts.

He rolled his shoulders a couple of times and moved a bit slower this time as he stood from the bed. Then he turned around to pull up the sheets and make his side of the bed just as Pepper had trained him to do over the years, but he paused… those weren’t his sheets. Then he looked at the bed as a whole and… that wasn’t his bed. Then he glanced around the room, brows lowering in suspicious confusion as he found that this wasn’t his room either.

He shook the thought out of his head. He probably ended up crashing at a friend’s house and he couldn’t remember since apparently his brain wasn’t working anymore… but then he walked to the dresser across the room and pulled open a drawer as if it was second nature and he paused… because these were his clothes.

What was going on?

“FRIDAY, where am I?” His voice sounds old and unused as he spits out the words with a tired rasp and his frown deepens. This didn’t feel right.

“You’re at home, sir. Would you like me to get Pepper for you?”

Pepper was here too?

He shakes his head in abject confusion, spinning in place with some hope that maybe he’d recall a reason as to why he was sleeping in a strange room and why his clothes were in said room.

But there was nothing other than the dull sense that he should be a bit more concerned with his apparent cluelessness… but he wasn’t actually all that concerned, just confused. So, he just shrugged his shoulders and hsi brain deemed the matter unimportant, tossing any thought of it away like a doll as he began pulling on his clothes slowly, being mindful of his sore muscles and squeaky bones. It took him so much longer than it should have to get dressed. His coordination now was apparently horrendous and fitting his legs into pants seemed much harder than it was the day before... But he had to hurry because there was something very important he had to do!

...There was something important he had to do... He paused for a moment and turned back to look at the bed. There was a reason he got out of bed....

He sits and thinks for a minute eyebrows creased and lips pursed as he focused.

Then-- oh yes! Time Travel! He stands up and hurries to the door, and soon he’s down the hall. He is no longer bothered by his unfamiliar surroundings and he’s walking aimlessly through this stranger’s home in search of his lab, in fact, it’s as if his brain has totally dismissed the notion of this being a strange house to begin with. He just continues on his way, hand braced against the wall as he stumbles down the hall, completely clueless as to where he’s going.

He wanders aimlessly, mouth puckered in thoughtful confusion as his brain fights to both recall where this lab of his is and also maybe what he should make Morgan for breakfast.

He passes by a wall of picture frames, and his eyes slowly gloss over the images encased in them, smiling reminiscently at the sight, without actually recognizing or mulling over them. It’s an instinctive action, and he pays no mind to it. Much more focused on his important endeavor.

To make Morgan and Pepper a tasty breakfast…

His brain changes course, now looking for the kitchen instead of his lab. And he spins in a slow circle, heading in the direction he just came.

He comes to stop in front of a childishly decorated door, unsure why the sight of it has him frowning again, because surely this is Morgan’s room. What other child’s room would it be?

He opens the door slowly, a small smile spread across his face as all the harsh worrying faded behind this new eagerness to see his daughter.

But instead of his daughter, he finds a young boy who couldn’t be much older than six. Tony cocks his head to the side as he tries to put together what must be happening.

The boy was familiar, so he must know him already… he had big brown eyes and curly brown hair, and the way he was looking at him meant, surely, they must be close.

“Good morning,” the boy greeted with a wide smile, and Tony made himself smile back.

Then that’s when it hits him! This boy must be Morgan’s friend! He pays no mind to the noticeable differences in the room compared to Morgan’s. Then he comes to the oh so obvious conclusion that the child must have slept over last night and just because he doesn’t remember doesn’t mean squat at this point, because it’s really ridiculous how he’s having such a hard time. He’s always had such a flawless memory… he supposes old age may just be finally catching up to him.

“Good morning, kid,” he greets, offering a small half smile as he works his way into the room, subtly searching for his daughter. She had to be in here somewhere. The boy, though, didn’t seem very pleased with his response. His mouth falls open in worried confusion and his eyes widen as he watches Tony slowly scuffle around the room, lifting blankets and pillows, and kicking around piles of scattered legos as he walks through. “Have you seen Morgan? I was gonna make breakfast.”

He turns back to the boy, his name escaping him, just like everything else, and waits for a response.

The child slowly puts the picture book he was reading down on his lap and slowly gets up from the bed, approaching him with tentative steps and reaching for his hand. Tony pulls his hand away quickly. He couldn’t be that close to this kid, god, he must still be star struck by Iron Man… he hopes the boy isn’t only friends with Morgan because of that, because if he is he wouldn’t hesitate to pummel him into the ground, child or not.

“Umm,” the boy speaks slowly, wringing his hands together in a familiar show of nervousness… Tony wryly remembers Peter doing the same thing, and then the panic and sadness is back because Peter is gone. He’s gone forever… and there’s nothing he can do about that…

Wait! There was something.... But what was it…

He doesn’t have much time to think because the kid’s talking again and what he says is much more interesting. “Umm, Grandpa… Morgie’s at the big kid school, ‘member?”

Grandpa? No that couldn’t be right. The kid must be mistaking him for someone else. So, he writes it off as a simple mistake and moves his thoughts elsewhere.

The kids must be playing a game. Morgan is always playing games, so he supposes he should probably play along. “Oh is she now?” He asks in a playful voice, crouching lower as he continues scouring the area for any signs of his daughter. “She must know then that big kid school means lots and lots of work and no play time.”

“Umm, yeah…” the boy squeaks nervously from behind him.

But then Tony shoots up, eyes flying open as he takes a sharp breath. He remembers!

Time Travel! He figured out time travel! How could he forget?! He needs to get to his lab to figure this out so he can get Peter back! He needs to get Peter back.

Only problem is he keeps getting lost in his own house… and he can’t find the stupid garage! He growls in frustration and runs a quick hand through his hair, wincing at the sharp throb of protest his shoulder puts out at the quick, unexpected movement.

Then he turns to the kid, slowly… because maybe the kid might know. Morgan’s probably taken him in there to explore many times even though she knows she’s not supposed to.

“Hey, kid, you know where my lab is by any chance?”

The kid just looks at him and Tony finds himself getting a little frustrated.

“C’mon kid. We don’t got all day! This is time sensitive. Literally.”

The kid gave him a look, one filled with doubt and masked forbearance. “What is it you need ta work e’sactly on Mista’h Tony?”

And Tony’s just so taken aback by the serious and mature tone that he has to pause and his mind draws an ugly blank. He stands there for a moment, struggling to grasp onto any string of thought or feeling, but it’s not there… he can’t remember.

Oh god, he can’t remember… what does he need to remember?! It’s important! He knows it’s important! God, he can’t forget this, not now! Peter needed him! He needed to save Peter, but he couldn’t. It was impossible.

“Mista’h Tony?”

There was that voice again.

Tony breathed in sharply through his nose and spun in a slow circle as he absorbed his surroundings. None of it was familiar. He had no idea where he was, what he was doing here, or how he got here. He was confused and scared and he didn’t want to deal with it anymore… it had to be a dream. That’s the only explanation. That could be the only excuse for what’s happening, because this doesn’t happen to him. It just doesn’t. He never forgets anything.

“Grandpa?”

And now the voice sounded worried, like maybe they were hurt.

But Tony didn’t know what to do.

“Hey Grandpa, le’s go to Daddy, ‘kay? He makes you feel better all the time.”

The little boy takes his hand, and this time Tony doesn’t pull away. Instead he blinks rapidly, throat and jaw spasming as his mind slowly overloads with panic and a muddle of blank information overlaying his ability to think... and it was terrifying.

He didn’t realize he was being led out of the room until after they stepped past the threshold. He turned his head left and right in hopes of spotting something he might recall, but there was nothing. Only this little boy who seemed so, so familiar. But then he’s passing by the pictures again and he actually has the clarity of mind to look. And, thank god, he sees a familiar face.

“Pepper!” He shouts, tugging on the boy’s hand and pointing eagerly to the picture of him and his wife posing together on what looks to be their wedding day… but it’s not like he remembers it being… “That’s Pepper. Where is she?”

The little boy looks up at him, mouth downturned into a sad frown and eyes sparkling with tears. “She went to see Morgie. Tha’s why we’re here Grandpa.”

“Who’s we?” Tony questions in a panic, chest convulsing with panic. “Where am I?”

“At your house,” the little boy answers shyly, tugging desperately on his hand to spur him into movement once more, “C’mon. We gotta get to Daddy ‘fore you cry.”

“Before I cry?” Tony scowls, then turns back to the pictures. “Why don’t you piss off kid. I don’t need your help!” He shakes his hand out of the child’s grip and turns away from him.

That must have been the wrong move, because the kid wails, and dives for him again, grabbing onto his leg and clinging to him. Tony doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know enough about the kid to call his parents, all he knows is Morgan is never having him over ever again. The kid is wasting his time and time is sensitive! He needs to get Peter back and he needs to do it now!

“Grandpa! ‘Member me p’ease! It’s Anty, it’s Anty! I’m sorry!”

And those words, and that face, and those eyes, make him gulp. Surely this was a dream, he chanted as he felt him slowly losing himself to the first memory that flashed across his brain like a motion picture would a TV screen. Of Peter, in his arms, turning to dust, and him, with nowhere to go and nowhere to be because he had lost, so what was the point.

Then he was being startled again by a new voice this time.

“Ant?! What’s going on? I thought I told you to come down for breakfast,” a loud, but tired voice carried down the hall. It was familiar, but it was deep and carried a new sense of maturity, and Tony’s stomach did an odd somersault as his brain raced to match the voice to a face.

It wasn’t until he saw the face that his heart stopped.

It was Peter.

It had to be.

“Ant, what’s wrong?” Peter asked, voice dropping an octave as his worried eyes settled on the little boy clinging to his leg. “C’mon, let’s get off Gramps before you hurt him.” Then Peter looked up at him. “You alright Dad?”

Tony couldn’t get the words out. Dad?

Alright? Alright?! Was he alright?! He should be asking Peter that question!

“Peter?”

This time Peter actually looked at him. Really looked. And it must have been the way he said the kid’s name, because now Peter’s expression matched the little boy’s from earlier. Despondent with a sad, but comforting smile that was able to somehow make him feel a little more at ease.

“Hey, Dad, it’s okay. I know you’re confused…” Peter’s hand lands on his shoulder and he’s still too stunned to say anything. “But you’re okay.”

“You’re dead,” he whispered softly, eyes glassy and wide as he drinks Peter in with new fervor. His mind can’t seem to connect the dots because all he can see is the young boy he held in his arms, not this grown man standing before him.

Peter’s face falls though. “Oh…” he breathes softly. “Well, um, that’s a pretty long time ago, Mr. Stark.”

No more Dad. He notes to himself.

Tony shakes his head. “Four years…” tears form in his eyes and his chin quivers. “It felt like forever.” And then he’s hugging him, pulling him close to hold him tightly. It doesn’t even cross his mind to take note that the kid is at least a foot taller than him now. And when they pull apart Tony doesn’t even try to hide his tears or his confusion. Everything was just so overwhelming.

But then Peter turns to address the little boy named Ant apparently and Tony watches. “Why don’t you go down and help Mom and Benny make breakfast?”

“But-but I wanna stay with Grandpa!” He clings tighter to Tony’s leg.

“Gramps and I will be down soon. I just have to talk to him about something first, okay?”

Tony watches the child go

“I-I-I-- who’s he?”

Peter looked at him, a proud smile on his face.

“That’s Antonio. He’s five.”

“Oh,” Tony whispered, eyes glassy. “Okay.” And then his brain is spinning and he’s spiralling back through the memories from this morning, suddenly recalling his mission. He had to bring everyone back and save them, and now that Peter was here, he could help!

He grabs Peter’s shoulders and grins wide in excitement. “Peter! We have to get to my lab. There’s a chance I can bring everyone back. I figured it out last night. All we need to do--”

Peter’s hand settles heavily on his arm, humorless smile spreading across his face. “We don’t need to Mr. Stark. You already did that.”

“What? That’s impossible. I just came up with it last night!”

“No, that was about 18 years ago. It’s okay now. Everyone’s okay because you saved them.”

Tony shook his head defiantly. “Nope. Not possible.”

“Well how do you think I’m here then?” Peter questions him softly. And Tony has to draw a blank at that one.

He opens his mouth and searches his brain for a logical solution, but then his brain discards the notion and he’s back where he started, ignoring Peter’s question. “We need to hurry Peter! We need to fix my suit and yours. And then we need to go get Steve at the compound.”

“Dad, listen to me,” Peter’s voice turns serious as he grasps Tony by both his shoulders and forces the man to look at him. The title itself gets Tony’s attention more than anything else. “Everything is fine. Everyone is fine.” Then Peter’s eyes get a bit glassy too. “You’re just a bit sick and you can’t remember that sometimes… do you trust me?”

Tony nods slowly and Peter continues.

“Then trust me when I say that everything is okay. You saved me and you saved everyone else, okay?”

Tony nods again, gulping visibly as his brain fights against him in a constant battle between absorbing and understanding the information and blocking it out as if it was never said.

“Okay, so let’s go downstairs and eat some breakfast. And maybe we can call Pepper and Morgan after so you can say hi.”

��Morgan?!” Tony shouts, head whipping around to find her.

“She’s not here right now. She’s at MIT, working on her second phD.”

“Oh,” Tony’s shoulders dropped and the throbbing in his back returned.

“Yeah, so let’s go downstairs, hm? The kids have been bugging me about when you’d wake up.”

“Kids?”

Peter smiles at him and it warms Tony’s heart.

“Yep, three of ‘em. You already met Ant, but you still gotta meet Ben and Katie.”

“I-I,” Tony’s eyes widen as the information settles, “you’re a Dad.”

Peter nods slowly and chuckles. “Yep. And when I told you the first time, I honestly think you were more excited to be a grandpa than me and MJ were to be parents.”

Tony’s face brightens with a wondered smile. “I’m-I’m a grandpa?”

“Oh yes, and you spoil them rotten. They love you way too much, it’s ridiculous.”

“Really?” Tony’s voice feels small and he can feel a few more tears on his cheeks, but he’s smiling through them.

“Really,” Peter affirms, putting his arm around Tony’s shoulders to guide him. “And maybe tomorrow it’ll be better and you can remember a bit more, but don’t worry about all that right now. They understand you don’t feel so good sometimes; we all do.”

Tony looks up at him, mouth suddenly dry. He couldn’t put into words how upset he felt that he couldn’t remember the past 18 years, watching Morgan grow up, watching Peter become a father, and being a grandfather. “I’m sorry I don’t remember,” he whispered, “I wish I never forgot.”

Peter looks back at him, a sad smile on his face. “It’s okay. You’ve taken care of me when I was sick so many times, so now it’s my turn.”

“You didn’t sign up for this Peter.”

Peter smiles wryly. “Nope I didn't, but you signed me up for it when you signed those adoption papers. So if anything, it’s actually your fault.”

Tony’s mouth falls open. “What?”

Peter releases the most unmanly sounding giggle and darts around the corner.

“Peter!” Tony calls, doing his best to chase after him without hurting himself, “what did just you say?!”

Oh wow guys it’s been a while hasn’t it? Gosh...

#irondad bingo #irondad #peter parker #tony stark #grandpa tony #dad peter parker #sick tony #sick fic #mental deterioration #protective peter parker

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luckyspike · 5 years ago

Text

Of Love and Loss - a Good Omens Fanfic

co-author credit to Griffin McElroy

The cottage has a den and it is agreed, fairly early on, that while it is technically shared space, it falls slightly more under Crowley’s purview than Aziraphale’s. Oh, certainly, there are a few bookshelves* and a display of antique snuffboxes, and the furniture is comfortable and homey, more suited to the angel’s aesthetic than the demon’s, but aside from those touches it is all Crowley’s: dark paint on the walls, houseplants scattered over every free inch of floor, and sleek technology conspicuously placed. There is a TV on the wall, huge and slim and used for very little aside from streaming. In the corner, there is a desk, with the fastest, most powerful computer money could buy.

For the first six months they live in the cottage, it is mostly untouched.

[* Which hold only modern paperbacks, not first editions, because Aziraphale just can’t trust the good books out in a room he doesn’t supervise as closely.]

For the first six months they live in the cottage, Crowley is busy elsewhere: there are gardens to tame, and a greenhouse to stock, and a widow’s walk with a telescope to be enjoyed. Crowley rarely goes into the den at all, other than to water and menace the plants, for those first six months.

But gradually, winter comes, and he and Aziraphale settle into a routine, and Crowley starts to gravitate toward the den. It’s in spurts at first, just when Aziraphale is at the shop and it’s too cold to do anything else, but it gets more frequent. Longer periods of time.

By nine months, Aziraphale is worried. Crowley is still Crowley, still stalks around his plants and shouts at them, but other than that, he is in the den. He lays on the couch, and sleeps, and watches TV, and sleeps some more.

Aziraphale asks if he’s tired, one day. “You’re sleeping a lot,” he observes. “A lot more than ... than I remember you doing, in London. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah.” And then, because Aziraphale has this look he does that renders Crowley unable to lie, he admits, “I’m bored.”

Aziraphale’s face falls. “Oh. Oh. I see. Yes, not the ... there isn’t the same bustle here as there is in London, is there?”

“No, no, nonono.” Crowley holds up his hands, worried and insistent. “Not what I meant, angel. No, I still get in to London when I drop you off at your shop, that’s plenty. But ...” He shrugs. “I used to have a job. Wiling and tempting and that. But I ... don’t anymore. I used to plan stuff, and spend too much time scheming, and now I don’t ... have a job?” He shifts. “It’s not here. Not living here. I just feel a bit ... useless?” He frowns. “Not the right word. Can’t come up with a word. Do you follow me?”

“You’re missing having a task?” Aziraphale guesses. “A goal or some such, whether you like it or not?” He sets his book aside and sits back in his chair, the better to watch Crowley over steepled fingers. “Yes, I think I understand.”

“Like, you have your shop, same as always. But I only had being a demon. That was my job and it’s what I am. But now I’m ... still a demon, obviously, but an unemployed demon, so ...” He throws up his hands. “Bored.”

Aziraphale nods sympathetically. “Yes. I see. Well ... you could try some different things? Volunteering at the animal shelter -”

“Really? Animals hate me, angel.”

“Ah, yes, that’s right. Volunteering at the school?”

Crowley makes a show of looking at himself. “Not sure that’s really my scene.”

“Volunteering at the -”

Crowley sighs, and sits back, the tip of his considerable nose propped on his knuckles. “I’ll think about it. Find something, I’m sure. Maybe try beachcombing.”

“Maybe,” says Aziraphale, without much confidence. He wonders how he’s going to break to Crowley that most of what you find beachcombing is not, in fact, treasure, but junk. “You could give it a shot.”

“Bah.” Crowley sits back further, slouching deep into the chair, and sprawls his limbs all akimbo. “I’ll sleep on it. Wake me up for dinner?”

“You’re eating tonight?”

“No, but you are.” He tugs the tartan throw off the back of the chair, and wraps it around himself. “I’ll join if you’ll have me.”

“Of course.”

Crowley talks to his technology a lot. He doesn’t see well, Aziraphale knows, and these days the technology talks back, makes it easier for the demon to navigate. So when he hears Crowley chatting to something - someone? - in the den one cool night in late spring, he doesn’t pay much mind.

When it happens a second time that week, he wonders, but he doesn’t investigate. Probably just talking to Anathema. He pulls the doors to the library closed, and reads for the rest of the night.

When it continues the next week, curiosity gets the better of him. It’s around nine, and Crowley is talking in the den again, and Aziraphale sighs and sets his book down and goes to investigate.

The demon is sitting at the computer. The screen is massive, and Crowley is looking at it through his dark glasses. He has a controller in his hands, and a set of headphones on, and he is talking into, of all things, a microphone.

Aziraphale blinks. “What’s this, then?”

Crowley jumps, and then says into the microphone, “Ah, yeah, one second, got an old friend here,” before he hits a button and pulls the headphones off. He jumps up out of the chair and moves to the right. Aziraphale notices then, that there is a camera, fixed on where Crowley was sitting. He frowns.

“What are you doing?”

“Working.” Crowley sticks his hands into his pockets and for the first time in nearly a year since they moved, looks inordinately pleased with himself. “Found a thing to do.”

“This isn’t a sex thing, is it?” Aziraphale asks warily.

“Nah.” He jerks a thumb toward the computer. “Nah it’s ... uh.” He thinks it over. “I have no idea how to explain this to you.” He frowns. “You know video games?”

Aziraphale nods. “... Broadly, yes.”

“Okay. Right. So there’s this website called Twitch. An’ what you do, is you play video games, but while you do that you broadcast your game to other people who want to watch you play. Adam showed it to me.” He waves his hands around, toward the computer. “S’kinda like a reality show? But video games.”

“And other people watch this?”

“Yeah. Got 100 viewers right now.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m hilarious.” He rocks back and forth on his heels and smirks. “Also, they give me money sometimes.”

“Willingly?”

“Yes, of course. I’m retired, remember? Well, from being a demon.” He looks pleased. “Now I’m a Twitch streamer. Part-time.”

The only reason that Aziraphale does not remark that this is a natural progression, as smooth a transition as from shore to sea, is that he does not really understand Twitch. Instead, he nods. “Good. And you’re ... having fun?”

“Oh yeah. Loads.” He glances over his shoulder. “Wanna watch for a bit? You can sit in the background. Really gets the chat going, when stuff happens in the background.”

“It’s not one of those violence games, is it?” But the angel is pulling over a wicker chair and sitting down even as he asks. “With all the killing?”

“Nah. S’pokemon. Like Joshua talks about.” He sits back down, and slides the headphones back on. “Right, what’d you want me to call you? Gotta introduce you.”

“Mr. Fell.”

Crowley gives Aziraphale a long-suffering look. “That’s not what ... never mind. Right, anything you say’ll probably get picked up on the mic, so just watch it, yeah? I’m gonna un-mute it.” He taps a button, and says, “Right, everyone, this is Az Fell. He’s ah, my favorite librarian, my best friend and uh ... my roommate.” Aziraphale blinks. Oh, so that’s what he’d meant. Well ... he wasn’t wrong.

Roommate feels a bit impersonal though. They will discuss it later.

“Right, so anyway, back to the run. Fell, this is ah, s’called a Nuzlocke run, where if your pokemon faints you have to let it go because it’s dead.”

“Oh,” says Aziraphale, who understood exactly none of that sentence.

“I just started. You’ll pick it up as we go.”

To Aziraphale’s surprise, he does. He picks up on the pokemon types, the point of the game, the exploration, and the apparently-bizarre rules Crowley has decided to play to game under. He comes to like the names, and the pokemon, and despite the fact that they are not real, he finds himself getting attached to them.

The first faint, an hour into the game, takes them both by surprise.

“Fuck!” Crowley glares at the screen. “Fuck! That’s not even a bug-type move!”

Aziraphale raises his hands to his mouth. “So Betty is dead?”

“Betty is dead,” Crowley confirms, morosely. “R I P Betty.”

“Look at all the little tombstones in the chat.” Aziraphale sighs, and wrings his hands. “Oh, dear. We should send her off.”

They do, when the battle ends. Solemnly, Crowley releases Betty the Rattata to the wild, and he and Aziraphale bow their heads while a bagpipe rendition of ‘Amazing Grace’ plays. Aziraphale wipes away a single tear. The chat goes wild.

xxGonnaMunch69xx: omg AJ your boyfriend is crying JamesBuffetsDick: RIP Betty and my feelings KnopeForPresident: omgggg im dead RIP Betty JisforJerg: fuckkkkkkkkkkk i had money on Betty living to the end GisforGreg: omg kiss your boyfriend so he feels better

Crowley sits up straighter as the music fades away. Aziraphale sniffles, blinks a few times and tries to subtly dab his eyes, and nods to Crowley, who returns the gesture before turning back to the screen and fiddling with the controls a little.

“We will fight on in her memory,” he intones, as his avatar on the screen runs in a circle in a patch of tall grass. “We will fight on for Betty. We’re gonna kill the Elite Four, and Betty’s name will be our war cry. For Betty!”

“For Betty!” Aziraphale nods firmly, and watches the screen intently. Crowley soldiers on, navigating around Kalos, and Aziraphale watches, although his thoughts are with Betty. He wonders what pokemon do after you release them to the wild. Maybe he will ask Joshua next time they see him.

Crowley, recovering from his grief more rapidly, is on one of his monologues, waxing philosophical on the nature of pokemon match-ups, as his character runs around on-screen. “They’re just playing Calvinball with the dragon and fairy types too, since they’re not even real, and who decided that dragons would be weak to fairies? Should be the other way around, if you ask me - oh, shit, I didn’t want to jump off that ledge, fuck.” He grumbles. “We’re gonna have to walk all the way back to town.”

“You’ll run into some wild pokemon on the way though, won’t you?”

“Can’t catch ‘em.” Crowley sighs, as the screen flashes and a Psyduck assails the character. “Already got one off this route.”

“But you can smite them? For experience?”

Crowley laughs. “Yeah, yeah, angel, I can smite them for experience.” He taps a few buttons. “Get ‘em, Blanche.”

“For Betty!” Aziraphale declares, seizing his mug of tea with probably more enthusiasm than necessary.

“Yeah,” Crowley agrees, still laughing. “Yeah! Fuck you, this one’s for Betty!”

In his chair, Crowley shifts around, spreading his knees and stretching his legs a little. Next to him, and out of view of the camera, Aziraphale’s hand comes to rest on his knee.

Crowley doesn’t blush; they have been doing this ... whatever it is they’re doing ... publicly long enough that he doesn’t react quite that violently now. But the next few sibilants are a little more hissed than usual, and Crowley shifts in the chair again under the pretense of getting more comfortable, yet somehow ending up a few inches closer to Aziraphale.

k2p2ribbingforherpleasure: fuck yea blanche kill that duck for betty bubbletii: cant wait for them to get to the ocean and catch a magikarp GisforGreg: am i the only one who noticed AJ moved closer to Fell or ... ROOMMATES HUH LIAR JisforJerg: jfc greg shut up and watch the game

#the glorious crackfic wednesday #i wish i didn't enjoy fanfiction so much #good omens #inspired by griffins nuzlocke run #one million beautiful beaks #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction #crowley definitely streams on twitch #you will never convince me otherwise

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coeurdastronaute · 5 years ago

Text

Essays in Existentialism: Nerd 9

Previously on Nerd

In a way, Luna’s house was the most comfortable place outside of her own home that Lexa ever knew. One street over and two houses down, Lexa spent her first sleepover there. She spent every birthday and most of summer vacations there for a long time, her brother trailing along to play with Luna’s little brother. She knew where everything was, and the door was always open, so that she didn’t even bother knocking anymore.

When Aden got sick, Lexa spent more time at Luna’s than she did her own home. That stopped immediately when he was gone. She barely left her room, let alone her house, let alone her street.

But there was something comforting about it, as she knocked and twisted the door knob in the early evening. A late January slushy mix filled the sky and froze everything it came in contact with, and the warmth of the home greeted her, swallowing her up and welcoming her back yet again.

“Hey, kiddo, how’s it going?” Luna’s mother greeted her from the kitchen as she kicked off her shoes and made her way toward her best friend’s bedroom.

“Swamped, but doing okay. How are you?”

She paused at the island in the kitchen and accepted a cookie that cooled on a sheet while the mother worked on whatever was going to be dinner.

“I’ll be better when I finish this project and this dinner. Don’t ever grow up. Real life will absolutely drain your energy,” she said as she took a sip of wine. “Here to work on SAT prep?”

“Um, yeah,” Lexa nodded. “Test is in April.”

“Are you staying for dinner?”

“I’ll be heading home, actually. My dad is trying his hand at some Korean dish he had and wants to recreate.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to have something just in case?” she grinned.

“Thanks, but I’ll chance it,” Lexa shrugged, adjusting her bag and making her way down the hall.

The house was entirely prim and proper, neatly organized like a spread in a lifestyle magazine. Rows of pictures covered the hall, sandwiched between white trim. There was always a certain warmth to the house, but it never felt like home to Lexa. She liked her own house more than anything, but she owed her friend the luxury of home field advantage.

At the end of the hall, a white door was covered in angry stickers and bands, warning any wary passersby to keep going. Music thumped behind the sturdy barricade.

“I’m doing homework,” Luna yelled as soon as Lexa knocked, though it didn’t deter her as she pushed the door open to find her best friend scrolling through footage on her large monitor.

“That looks like the stuff we shot in November.”

“Someone’s got to put it all together.”

Lexa walked into the room anyway, despite the less than warm reception. She tossed her backpack on the floor and took a seat on the edge of the bed, even though her best friend didn’t look over at her or acknowledge her presence.

“You didn’t email me about the changes I made to the script,” Lexa began, playing with a hole on the jeans over her knee. “I thought we wanted to finalize by March.”

“I didn’t think there was a rush. You take forever to respond.”

“Are you still mad? I missed a couple of deadlines.”

“Every deadline,” Luna reminded her.

Hands moved quickly, knowledgeable at the computer. Lexa just watched as her friend avoided looking at her. It was hard to disappoint the person who gave her such drive. Her partner, in the truest sense of the word.

“I’ve had a lot going on.”

“So have I, but I keep up with this. This is what I want to do.”

“Yeah, sure looks like you’re passionate about it,” Lexa rolled her eyes, earning a glare.

Piercing brown, almost black eyes bore into her own, slightly squinted from the slight. The muscles of the jaw flexed and nostrils flared. The leg that was propped up in the chair got pulled even tighter, her body defending itself from a perceived threat.

“I’ve been working on this for hours, and you want to come in and tell me I’m doing a lackluster job?” Luna scoffed, leaning back in her chair.

“I didn’t come over to fight. I came over to apologize and figure out the adjustments I wanted to make.”

“You’re bad at it.”

“I know you’ve been mad at me.”

“No shit.”

“And I take the blame, but you’re not innocent in this,” Lexa decided, her words shaking slightly with the confrontation.

“Okay, Lexa. Thanks.”

“I mean it. I am devoted to this. You know I love this, but you throw it in my face how I’m dragging you down apparently,” she concluded, her hands moving slightly, her shoulders shrugging.

Lexa couldn’t look at the girl at the desk anymore, so she fixated on the corner of the desk as she zoned out and said hard words.

“You’d have to show up to drag me down,” Luna laughed sardonically.

“My life is kind of upside down at the moment.”

“Yeah yeah, Aiden, I know. I give you slack for that.”

“Slack?” Lexa furrowed. “For my brother dying? For my family falling apart? Wow. That is awfully generous of you.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Even then, you should understand that my family has different requirements of me than yours does of you.”

“I get to just do what I want, with no supervision, no drive?” Luna looked at the girl on her bed and shook her head in disbelief.

“I have to play a sport every season. I have to be in these clubs, and I just came out to my parents, which-- I don’t have to explain it to you.”

“You used to though.”

Deadlocked, they looked at each other, the music quieter but still louder than the rest of the house, blocking out much of their own thoughts. Lexa didn’t want to fight, but she also knew her friend was incapable of strictly being passive aggressive. She knew she was walking into a den of pure aggression, and to a degree, that kept her away, coward that she thought herself to be because of it.

“You don’t seem interested to hear about Clarke,” Lexa shrugged, wringing her fingers again.

“Yeah, is it obvious?”

“Why do you hate her?”

“I don’t… I don’t hate her,” Luna shook her head, leaning back in her chair and finally turning it slightly so that she was facing her bed. “It was always supposed to be us though. You and me, applying to school, making movies.”

“You’re jealous?”

“No. I’m not jealous. I’m annoyed that my plans are being ruined.”

“That’s why I’m here to apologize and ask for a slight break from your eagerness.”

“Oh, so now I’m annoying and over eager?”

“That’s not what I said,” Lexa held up her hands in defeat. “But I need my best friend back, and I can’t give you every spare minute for this movie. I’m giving you all of them that I have, but I do have to sleep from time to time.”

“Sleep is for the weak,” Luna offered before cracking a smile.

She tilted her head slightly, letting it rest on her shoulder as she eyed Lexa, her face softening slightly, though not enough to put Lexa completely at ease. Luna was never one to soften. She was intense, and it was constant.

“I need you to like Clarke,” Lexa continued. “I-- I-- I think we’re… I think that there’s a chance we’re going to be-- We are talking abo-- I like her a lot, and I think she likes me.”

Completely pink in the cheeks, Lexa sighed with the admission as she looked down at her hands knotting themselves together, her fingers wrangling and wrapping themselves around each other to escape or personify her own feelings at that exact moment. Despite it all, despite the severity and venomous tongue her friend owned, Lexa knew Luna would listen, at least partially.

“I don’t mean to sound like this jealous asshole,” Luna sighed. “I just miss you.”

“I knew it.”

“Shut up.”

“I did though,” Lexa smiled, leaning back on her elbows on the bed, her legs stretching out in front of her over the side of it. “Stop getting annoyed at me for missing deadlines.”

“I won’t.”

“Try.”

“Whatever,” Luna shrugged. “I’ll try.”

“Good. Now do you want to get to work and stop being such a jealous baby?”

“You’re the worst,” Luna shook her head and tossed a notebook at her friend.

Lexa dodged the notebook, catching it before it hit her in the chest, gentle and wafted and not meaning to hurt. She earned a smile and though it was tense, the air felt slightly more hospitable and normal.

It was hard to say what normal was anymore, the past year being nothing more than an absolute game changer, in every sense of the word. But for an evening, Lexa could at least say she had her friend back.

“Can we adjust the future projections now?” Lexa grinned. “With time for being human factored in?”

“Since when are you human?”

“Tuesday, September second.”

“That’s awfully specific,” Luna muttered as she looked at the poster they'd’ developed to track applications for college.

“It’s when I met Clarke. And Monday, November fourtheenth. That’s when I came out to my dad. And Thursday, November twenty-fifth is when I came out to my mom.”

“And now you’re human?” she wondered. “I’ve known you liked girls since we were twelve.”

“Family is tough, but mine is coming back. It’s… it’s nice. Feels human.”

Luna looked away from her planning and her dates to look at the contemplative girl on her bed, the one she thought she knew better than anyone else. There was a different look to her, different than the one Luna suspected was because of the stupid cheerleader.

“I’m glad to hear it. Tell me how Sir Tim allowed you to cut down on extracurriculars.”

And just like that, they were back in some small way.

XXXXXXXXX

The music was too loud, but that didn’t matter. Clarke stared at her ceiling and didn’t even listen to the words that blared in her ears, deafening her from the rest of the quiet house. She didn’t move at all, but laid there, still as could be, thinking. Hands linked over her stomach, she felt herself breathing intermittently.

The room wasn’t messy, but it certainly wasn’t clean. Clothes were lumped in a corner and scattered elsewhere on the floor. Her backpack and stack of books flopped, half on the floor, half on her bed from her attempt at homework. Sketches covered a desk with various drawing equipment, paint dripped onto the old rugs she used to keep her mother at bay from complaining. It was exceptionally normal.

Clarke tilted her head and looked toward the window, and at the orange trees and street outside, flooded with rain and snow in the miserable winter night. Pictures from various moments in her timeline littered the wall next to her bed. Long forgotten smiles and friends beamed, dressed up in little cheerleader costumes, dressed in camp outfits, dressed in stupid costumes for various school events. Her wallpaper was memories that seemed incredibly insignificant at the moment.

She looked back toward her ceiling for a moment before looking toward her door, a monstrous thing with clothes and coats and bags hung on it, giving it a hump. There was so much stuff, so many things, everywhere. Her room was full and busy and she looked back at her ceiling and felt very far removed from everything.

A year and a half and she could leave it all behind, she thought to herself as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Hey, want to come to my game on Friday? A text beeped, interrupting her song.

With a big stretch, Clarke wiggled up on her bed and grabbed her phone from where it was hidden beneath a stack of notebooks and binders. She smiled at seeing Lexa’s text despite herself, despite her mood.

I know it’s super boring, but I thought, maybe, we could, like after, maybe grab food and hang out?

The soccer player, the class secretary, the debate team captain, the SAT tutor, the valedictorian and all around heart throb to just Clarke, was an adorable mess, even in text, and Clarke loved it because rarely did something so good and pure exist in the world. Rarely did someone speak so honestly about what their problems were. Rarely did anyone acknowledge that life was shit, but kept going anyway.

I’m working this Friday. After can we head to Tall John’s party? His parents are out of town and it’s McKenzie’s birthday.

Clarke badly needed a drink and a night to just… to forget. She couldn’t think of anything better than hanging out with Lexa.

Um, yeah. Sure. That sounds fun. I’m um, not too good at parties.

I’ll teach you. We don’t have to stay long.

Sounds good. Not too late? Sorry to sound like a nerd, but my parents want to do a bike ride on Saturday morning. Their next attempt at family bonding.

Promise.

You want to come?

Do I want to get up early on Saturday and go on an outrageously long bike ride with three of the fittest people I’ve ever seen in one gene pool?

Yeah.

Clarke chuckled to herself and shook her head.

Maybe I can come over after work Saturday and we can do homework and movies?

This weekend just got to be spectacular. That sounds amazing.

How was your night?

Despite the messages, Clarke sat up in her bed and looked around at her room. She redid the messy bun in her hair, tightening it as she prepared for battle. The music continued to thump in her brain, the words disappearing, not relevant anyway.

Good. Luna and I edited and worked on the script for our feature for film school applications. She agreed to back off, as much as she can.

I told you, just talking to her will help. She’s very focused.

That’s a nice way to put it. But she keeps me going.

Clarke smiled at her phone before tossing it onto her desk and wondering where to start. She settled on trash, tugging everything off of her wall and throwing it into a pile in the middle of her room. And only when the walls were bare did she begin to gather everything and shove it in trash bags.

It went that way until her room was almost empty and orderly. It looked like she moved out. Any clothes that didn’t fit in the closet or dresser were filtered through and put in a bag for donation. Anything that tied her there, to that town, to her family, it was tossed. Clarke found herself scrubbing away a layer of film that grew on her skin, scrubbing away everything over the past year or so. She wanted to be clean. She wanted to be new.

Lexa, I don’t know what to say to my mom.

With nothing left to clean, with the room empty and almost cell-like, Clarke sat on her bed and cradled her phone, a few hours removed from her last conversation with another living being. It was nearly three in the morning, and she knew Lexa would be asleep, but she had to admit it to someone.

Once more, she flopped back on the bed and looked at the ceiling, her hands crossed over her ribs as she felt each breath.

“Hello?” she whispered as her phone began to vibrate more than a text.

“Hey,” Lexa yawned before clearing her throat. Her voice was scratchy and full of sleep, but that didn’t stop her.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I’m a light sleeper.”

“Then I’m extra sorry.”

“I’m not.”

They were quiet. Clarke tried to listen to any noise on the other end, but all she got was the slight adjustment of sheets and another stifled yawn.

“It has to get easier,” Lexa whispered.

“Did it for you?”

“Kind of, yeah,” she decided. “It’s getting better every day. Sometimes I lapse and get sad and feel lost, but for the most part, It feels better than yesterday.”

“Mine’s kind of fresh.”

“Yeah.”

“Do I tell my dad?” Clarke wondered.

“That’s up to you, but I don’t think you can decide at three in the morning.”

“I guess not.”

“Good. Then don’t worry for a few more hours, and try to sleep.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Maybe. Want me to hang out until you do though?” Lexa asked, half asleep herself.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Clarke smiled to herself and blushed at the admission.

“I can do that.”

“Thank you.”

“No worries. I was up anyway.”

Clarke smiled at the obvious lie and closed her eyes despite the light on, despite her clothes, despite it all, and she just enjoyed the quiet and the night and the girl on the other line.

XXXXXXXXX

There weren’t any nerves to it, but still Lexa was anxious as she waited by the locker of the girl that kept her up until four in the morning. There weren’t many nerves because she was still too groggy to have real nerves, but she had them beneath it all.

She adjusted her backpack and leaned against the lockers in the busy hallway before the first bell rang. She looked at her shoes and nudged her toes against the polished floor.

When she looked up, she held her breath, her lips too agape to fully smile though they very much wanted to do just that. As if she’d slept for a full ten hours, Clarke Griffin made her way through the hall, hair billowing and angelic, completely stuck in slow-motion. Lexa gulped and adjusted the strap of her heavy bag again before fiddling with the clasp.

“Good morning, tiger,” Clarke smiled. “Waiting for little old me?”

“I brought you breakfast,” Lexa offered, pulling the banana and protein bar from her sweatshirt.

“You are very sweet. Have I told you that lately?”

It burned the whole way up to the tips of her ears, but Lexa looked away from Clarke’s smile and back at the toes of her shoes.

“Yeah last night.”

“Good,” Clarke decided. “I wanted to thank you for… just staying up with me.”

“Anytime.”

She closed her locker after grabbing the right books and nodded to herself before pausing and leaning near Lexa. Clarke played with the strap of Lexa’s bookbag now, her fingers moving anxiously as they hovered closer.

“I’m becoming quite a pain in your life, huh?”

“Nope.”

“First your friend starts to hate you, now I take all your time up. I’m a menace.”

“I told you that I’d help. Do whatever. I don’t know. Sometimes we just need someone else to bring them a banana.”

“Yeah, I think we do,” Clarke smiled.

Pressing forward, Clarke gripped the backpack strap firmly and slowly leaned toward Lexa’s lips before gently kissing her. She held it for a moment until she smiled enough to ruin it.

Lexa cleared her throat and blushed a little more.

“Want to come over after school? I’m going to paint my room.”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

Clarke smiled and intertwined their fingers.

XXXXXXXXXX

“So, this is your… room?” Lexa furrowed as she looked around the near empty shell of a bedroom.

The bed was covered in a drop cloth, while the walls were completely empty and not a thing was where it should have been, the desk and the dresser and a chair and a shelf pushed towards the center in preparation of the work to happen.

Clarke nodded and stirred the pain in the can.

“I can’t imagine why you’d want to change the color of the room.”

“I picked it when I was eight.”

“What a difference eight years will make,” Clarke smiled and poured into the tin. “I was a huge fan of purple.”

“I couldn’t tell,” Lexa grimaced slightly at the childish color.

“Which is why I’ve decided that my new life will be a much more mature color. The new year is a year of power moves only.”

“What’s that?”

Clarke stood and grabbed a roller and wet it. Hand on her hip, she held it up valiantly, prepared for everything and at least pretending to know what she was doing.

“It means, I’m only moving forward and doing what I want. Clean slate. No more childish stuff.” She paused for a moment, thoughtful and strong. “I’m going to change the fucking world.”

It was with a line like that, that Lexa decided she’d follow Clarke to the ends of the Earth.

“Power moves only,” Lexa agreed and picked up a roller.

For an hour they worked and got the first coat of paint on the walls, edged neatly and expertly by the debate team captain. Music played softly from Clarke’s phone on the window ledge, and the fan rocked and hummed quietly, attempting to usher in another coat before bed.

It got dark quickly in the winter, but that didn’t stop them. Lexa had a backpack full of homework and found herself slightly tired from being up all night, but that didn’t stop her. She had music and Clarke all to herself and it felt good and easy. She wasn’t going to stop.

“Are the glow-in-the-dark stars part of this new you?” Lexa asked as she laid on the floor next to a paint-splattered Clarke. Her own hands were caked in streaks and her shift had an accidental streak across it.

“I can’t change completely. They have to stay.”

Shoulder to shoulder, they looked at the poorly constructed constellation above them as the smell of paint wafted through the room.

“This has something to do with what we saw the other day, doesn’t it?” Lexa whispered.

“No.”

“It’s okay if it does.”

“It doesn’t.”

“I’d be… I don’t even know. I’d be devastated,” Lexa continued, turning her head to see Clarke’s profile.

The girl beside her worked hard to remain stoic, but cracked slightly, letting out a big breath and closing her eyes. Lexa froze as Clarke’s chest inflated again. A streak of grey paint ran down her jaw and neck.

“I don’t know what to do,” Clarke confessed. “I feel so…. So angry.”

“And hurt?”

“Maybe,” she sighed, her breath shaky. “Maybe deep beneath the anger.”

Lexa watched it all happen. She couldn’t look away. And then a tear made its way down the side of her face and into her hair, though Clarke tried to wipe it away quickly. Another came a second later, and Clarke sniffled and took a deep breath to steady herself.

There hadn’t been many times Lexa knew what to do when someone else was crying. There really hadn’t been any that she could think of. Nothing ever seemed right. But that didn’t stop her from rolling over and propping herself up on an elbow. Gentle as she could, Lexa wiped away one side, and then the other.

“You are far tougher than you realize,” Lexa promised. “You’ll know what to do eventually.”

Clarke finally met Lexa’s eyes. They were even more blue when hidden behind the glass of stifled tears. Pure blue. Blue blue.

“I’m sick of being angry,” Clarke whispered.

Lexa let her hand migrate to the corner of Clarke’s jaw where she rubbed softly, hoping it would help in some way.

“Me too,” she agreed. “Let’s stop being angry right now.”

“I don’t think it works like that.”

“Why not?” Lexa smiled, earning one from Clarke as well, no matter how small it was.

Somehow, Lexa became aware of her body and how it was pressed against the entirety of Clarke’s. Her leg as slid over Clarke’s hip, her stomach touched her elbow, her arm covered her chest. Clarke must have known too, because she smiled and looked at Lexa’s lips.

Tentatively, asking permission, Lexa leaned forward and stopped, stuttering her way forward until she held her breath and felt Clarke kiss her Somehow a hand slid to the back of her neck and she ran out of air, but still kept kissing the girl on the floor with the paint all over.

There was a tiny hum, though Lexa wasn’t sure who made it. She thought it was herself for a moment, but then infinitely liked the idea that it was Clarke even more. Of their own accord, her hips pressed forward while her hand slid to Clarke’s neck, and then to her chest quickly before settling on her ribs.

She made out with Clarke and forgot everything else, and as self control waned, her hand slid higher until she spread her palm and felt Clarke’s chest. Hesitantly, she paused there until Clarke’s back arched and filled up her hand on its own. Lexa did not mind, nor did she ever want to put anything else in her hand. It only spurred her to kiss Clarke deeper, her body doing things before her brain could overthink it.

Clarke pulled Lexa slightly until she was half atop her, thigh slipping between her own. She dug her hands into Lexa’s shoulders. For too long they made out on the floor with their bodies doing things they weren’t quite sure of, but desperately needed. Clarke groaned only when Lexa pulled away, lips swollen and eyes clearly wide.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t… I shouldn’t have.”

“Shut up,” Clarke shook her head.

Lexa looked down at her hand still on Clarke’s chest, still rooted firmly there. She should have moved it, but couldn’t.

“Anything to distract you, I guess.”

“Consider me distracted,” she promised.

Clarke let her head drop back onto the floor before moving her hips, adjusting slightly and tugging Lexa to lay atop her. She kissed her cheek, kissed her forehead and settled there on her floor, cheeks slightly pink and lip slightly bitten from Lexa’s teeth.

Neither said anything. Neither had to.

252 notes · View notes

angstymarshmallow · 6 years ago

Text

friends with benefits (bryce x mc)

[A little note: I’ve been writing all day on and off and managed to finish this. Surprisingly it took a turn I wasn’t entirely expecting but I’m happy with it so here it goes!]

[Words counted: 2258]

The colour at the bottom of Maci’s shot glass was starting to look a little bit strange. It was supposed to be a startling sea-green and now seemed a little…greener than it should. The longer she stared at it, the worse it was beginning to look. She blinked at it for a moment, her lips forming into a faint scowl until she heard him.

“No need to rush a good thing Maci.” His voice, ever the sound of something she could only describe as undeniably smooth floated across the table. “The night is still young.”

Her eyes lifted to meet his smirk. She didn’t think she could ever get tired of looking at him – smirk and all. He was decisively too distracting, especially without the scrubs. He knew how good he looked. Still, it was the way his smile lit the rest of his face when she’d challenge him at a drinking contest.

There was something softer behind it this time.

And it was doing crazy things to her heart. Not that she would ever voice that opinion out-loud; their game only worked when they were both playing. Maci had no intention of adding real feelings to the mix simply because it wasn’t a part of her ten-year plan.

Bryce was always a good time and balanced out her edges – especially when she had multiple ten-hour shifts almost back to back. It was probably the way he grinned. Despite when it wasn’t always directed at her, it was still the pinnacle of his self-confidence.

It was just her luck that she was in a mood to do far more than drinking tonight.

Pushing the idea aside before it could fester, Maci tilted her head slightly and tsked at him. “Worried about me?”

He snorted, even his snort was sexy.

“Worried that this’ll be over too soon, sure.” Dark magnetic eyes met hers’, followed by a teasing grin. “I like taking my time, Maci – you know that.” He drawled, “getting a chance to really wring out every bit of pleasure – especially for things like this,” his eyes momentarily skimmed the rest of her, and spent nearly a second too long at the gracious amount of cleavage from her dress. “Or did you forget who won our last wager?”

Maci pointed a finger at him. She hated being reminded of her failures, they were usually far and in-between. “Being a scalpel jockey gave you an unfair advantage at darts.” She said accusingly.

He chuckled and her eyes momentarily dropped to his lips.

She had been thinking about them much too frequently – almost too much when she had almsot forgotten to pick up a patience’s report earlier this week.

Maybe I need to simply get him out of my system.

The thought wasn’t surprising, but the need she felt behind the words were. Distractions were distractions but craving someone was a dangerous thing.

Yet, hadn’t she asked him if he was free tonight? On her first night to herself, his face had popped into her head. “Besides, I didn’t hear any complaints when you got your reward.” she tapped the edge of her glass with one finger, remembering his dramatic dip before he kissed her.

There had been other moments too – stolen ones in a supply closet and sneaking off together during their breaks for a heavy make-out session until they were both breathless and left panting, but their first kiss had started it all. It was the reason she constantly wanted more.

“What’s there to complain about?” He shrugged, grinning coyly at her. “You’re pretty damn kissable.”

Smooth. He was too smooth. Maybe that was why she couldn’t get him out of her head.

Bryce was leaning towards her as he spoke. It wasn’t until he was close enough for her to catch the nearly intoxicating scent of his cologne that his eyes paused intently at her. “And I wouldn’t mind a repeat performance.” There was a husky edge to his voice as it dropped an octave.

“You mean with these lips?” She pointed at them, and fluttered her eyelashes in a not-so-innocent gesture. From underneath the table, her feet slid upwards until they reached his thigh.

He sat a little straighter, but otherwise appeared unaffected. “One in the same yes,” he replied, his hand finding hers’. He leaned further towards her, separating the inches left between them at the same moment she did, until they were barely more than a breath away from each other.

Maci couldn’t look away. His eyes demanded her not to. She watched as they turned a shade darker until something inside her chest fluttered. Frowning slightly, she managed to tear her gaze away and focused her attention back to her glass. “Then it’s a damn shame you’re not gonna win this time.” She taunted. Leaning back until her back pressed against the softness of her seat, she downed the rest of her drink in one go.

Bryce whistled.

Maci caught one of the server’s attention with a flirty smile and ordered another round of shots.

“A woman that wants to drink me under the table is a woman after my own heart.” Though his voice still held a teasing edge, his eyes hadn’t broken eye contact while she offered him another drink.

“Flattery will get you everywhere Lahela.”

“God, I hope so.” His hands held on a little longer before he accepted with a small word of thanks.

She hid her smile before tipping her head back. This time it went down almost too easy.

“Wow, I think I felt that one.” Dropping his empty glass on the table, Bryce wiped an imaginary sweat off his brow until Maci sputtered a laugh. “I think I love that sound.” He mused.

Taken off-guard by his words, Maci ignored the sudden heat rising to her cheeks. “I see what you’re doing here.”

“Oh?” Now it was his turn to look innocent. “And what pray tell am I doing?”

“Stop trying to thwart me, it won’t work.” She warned stubbornly, lifting a perfectly arched brow.

“Can’t a guy tell you how sexy your laugh is?” He held up his hands in surrender as her mouth slid open to protest. “It’s just a simple observation.”

His cheeky grin had her stomach doing summersaults. She scoffed, “a simple observation to throw me off my game. I’m on to you.” She reached for another shot almost at the same time he did. Their fingers touched and Maci shivered at the electricity that seemed to jump between them.

A hesitant beat later and neither one of them had retrieved their hands. “If you’re on to me, we would have left this place already.”

She sucked in her next breath and saw the flash of satisfaction in his eyes that his words had gotten such a response from her. Swallowing past the abrupt dryness in her throat, Maci waited for her composure to return before she managed a taunting smile. “Does that mean you concede?”

He dropped his hand first and but kept his body angled towards her. “I would if that means getting out of here, yes.”

She licked her lips and saw the swift motion of his eyes following the gesture. Desire coiled in her belly and she had a difficult time keeping her expression calm and collected, when she was feeling anything except that. “Let’s say for argument’s sake I agreed - where would we go this late?”

His eyes shifted with growing interest. “You haven’t shown me your new place yet.”

“True,” she agreed with a laugh. “But I also happen to have four roommates. It’s not exactly private.” Even at this hour of the night, someone would be up watching Netflix and she was nowhere near ready for that explanation. Especially since it was all supposed to be casual. Meaningless. Besides, having him in her space wasn’t a step she thought she was ready for.

Bryce seemed to have understood without any further explanation. “My place it is.” Standing, he took her hand and helped her to her feet. Placing his hand on her lower back, he steered her to the front – only pausing with the intention of paying for their drinks.

“Oh no you don’t Lahela.” Maci physically stepped in his way, stopping him. Reaching blindly for her purse, she only glanced up to ensure he wasn’t paying behind her back. “We pay separately.”

“I don’t see the big deal.” He laughed, his voice sounding half-amused as she shoved a bunch of cash into the server’s hands. “Unless it’s about the principle, then I get it – you’re your own woman. I wouldn’t want to overstep.”

“That isn’t why. But I appreciate the sentiment,” she gestured between them as Bryce moved to grab their coats. “This was not a date.” She muttered a-matter-of-factly.

“Really?” His smirk was back and the sight of it was suddenly infuriating.

As if he knew something that she didn’t.

“Really.” Maci insisted as took her coat from him, pushing his hand away when he tried to help her with it. “Dates are pre-conceived notions involving people who actually want more than friendship.” She continued, because once she started rambling – it was difficult to put a stop to it when liquor was added into the mix.

“Then what are we?” She wasn’t unaccustomed to his teasing but beneath it she thought she saw something more. Something real. “Friends with benefits?”

She nodded emphatically. She didn’t particularly like his choice of words but nothing else could describe as aptly put of their current circumstances than those three little words. “Precisely,” she patted his arm, if not a bit awkwardly as he hailed a cab.

Bryce made no comment.

The night had been much cooler than it had been in the day. Bryce had shoved his hands into his coat pockets as they stood close to the edge. They were waiting for the next barrage of cabs and for people to flock them. He didn’t want to wait long. He was already thinking about all the things he wanted to do with Maci before the biting chill had forced his thoughts elsewhere.

She shifted a little closer, nearly startling him. Smiling to himself, he retrieved one of his hands to wrap his arm around her, bringing her impossibly closer.

She buried her face into his side.

The gesture was too adorable not to poke fun. “Friends, huh?” Those weren’t the words he was looking for, but they were the words that had left his lips. He hadn’t even realized he was still lingering on the word. Friends with benefits. It wasn’t a new concept for him, he had his fair share of lovers in the past and couldn’t place his fingers on why he thought of them now.

“Sssh, I’m burrowing. For warmth.”

His laugh rumbled his chest, and she angled her chin to peer up at him. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“And I’m about to be luckier in a second.” Without waiting for her response, Bryce dipped his head low enough to capture her lips. Kissing her was the only thing he could think of doing when she looked at him like that. The worse part was she probably hadn’t realized she was doing it – staring up at him with such naked honesty, with a sparkle in her eyes. It had done something to his heart. And all he could think of doing was kissing her. His other hand came to cup her cheek and he heard her appreciative moan as he deepened the kiss. God, kissing her was easy. It was stopping that was hard.

He felt her hands gripping the folds of his jacket and her soft sigh when his tongue slid between her waiting lips.

The sound of a taxi blaring their horn had jolted Bryce enough for him to tear himself away. When he glanced back at her - her eyes were slightly wide, and her cheeks were slightly red against her dark skin. Damn, she was beautiful. And he wanted to kiss her again.

Barely stifling the urge, Bryce took her hand and ushered her into the back of the cab. He hesitated for a moment when the driver had turned expectantly at him. Despite their earlier exchange he didn’t Maci wasn’t in the right state of mind for what he had planned.

Besides, he wanted their first time together a little more romantic than stumbling drunkenly into his home. Smiling at the driver, he directed instructions for separate addresses before leaning back into his seat.

Almost immediately, Maci had shifted enough to rest her head on him and her dark hair spilled across his shoulder as she yawned.

Bryce knew he had made the right decision. He tucked his arm around her and she snuggled closer. “I just need a second,” she mumbled. Another yawn escaped as she closed her eyes, “just a second to catch my breath.”

“Uh huh. Are you sure?” He wasn’t convinced. “I wouldn’t want to get in between you and burrowing….for warmth.” He flinched suddenly as a stinging sensation came from his side. “Ow! Did you just – did you just pinch me?”

“I plead the fifth.” She murmured.

Shaking his head, Bryce watched her for a moment longer before leaning his head back. The rest of the day had finally caught up to him and it was more than his feet that had been aching by the end of his shift. Nevertheless, he hadn’t allowed his exhaustion to stop him from saying yes tonight. He wanted to see Maci. More remarkably, he wanted to see her more and more - instead of less and less. Maybe friends with benefits wouldn’t always be enough.

“Tonight was fun. Good change of pace for me.”

He hadn’t realized she heard him until her voice had broken their companionable silence. “Me too.”

#bryce lahela fanfiction #bryce lahela x mc #bryce x mc #open heart fanfiction #bryce lahela x maci lawson #playchoices fanfiction #open heart #bryce lahela open heart #bryce open heart #OH #OH: fanfiction #long post #an angstymarshmallow writes #I finished it #yaaaay

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wereshrew-admirer · 2 years ago

Note

have you read a lady for a duke by alexis hall? the premise reminds me a lot of your chine/duvall regency au (which i absolutely have not stopped thinking about, it’s so good)

i hate to say it but i haven't read a book book in at least 8 years :'( It looks good though! it's fantastic that there are books with trans characters that aren't completely exploitative out there now (<- making it obvious that i don't read anymore, i'm sure there's been plenty of good books for a long time now)

But! i HAVE been writing a lot!! the tenses are all over the place and it's got no editing, but here's something:

“So!” lyke says, cheerful, “You not interested in meeting the newest member of our most exclusive-est high society?”

Duvall rolls his eyes, “i doubt it. Why - should i be?”

Lyke laughs and punches duvall lightly on the shoulder. Duvall laughs along with him, appreciative of his lack of decorum. Lye grins down at him and they both notice the conspicuous piece of something stuck between his teeth at the same time. before duvall has the chance to point it out lyke sucks at it loudly and duvall reconsiders his take on lyke’s manners as the tall man finishes picking it free and flicks whatever it was out over the railing and into the garden below. he continues as if nothing happened, “nah, this guy looks pretty gnarly. They’re covered in an annoying amount of medals but it looks like there’s a decent chance at least a few of them were earned”

Lyke leans down and into duvall’s space, opening one eye wide and squeezing the other shut, “got some wicked face injury, i can’t tell if his eye is glass or what but it looks pretty sick.”

“Sick” duvall echoes, unimpressed.

“Hell yeah, i actually am pretty excited to talk to them, you can just tell there are some good stories rattling around up in there” Lyke stands back up and tapps his head. His smile softens around the edges and duvall hears the doors behind him open.

Lyke leans his chin on her head and she tips her face up, switching to common as if they didn’t all know that Lyke understood Aldominian perfectly well. Her voice is rich and smooth, but her smile is small and sharp, “they claim only to be a child of Eastern Folly - of Blackwick - and says their ties to the land grant him as much a right to be here as any of us.”

Lyke laughs, “as if anyone would ever try to throw a guy like that out”

Duvall releases a long breath, trying to mentally prepare himself for a season of exhausting conversations, “no, we wouldn’t want that”

chapter one

It might have been petty of him, but duvall was privately satisfied that he’d thus far managed to avoid any contact with the general that had caught the attention of every person of class in town. He hadn’t even seen them let alone been introduced, and making a game of it was about the only thing keeping him sane at the weekly parties he was obligated to attend, for the talk was inescapable:

The issue of their name remained. If anything the general had doubled down on his insistence that their ties to the land were enough to add value to their name - their singular name. “Chine” was the most that was given and the most that any had ever heard, but he was well-recognized among returning soldiers who were bursting with pride to discover that they were grown from the same stock as their admired leader.

Indeed, whenever asked, these soldiers all but fell over each other in their excitement to brag of the impossible feats of strength and fortitude that they’d witnessed from Chine on the battlefield. They didn’t seem at all interested in the obvious question of why no-one remembered him from their civilian lives prior to joining the army. Chine wasn’t so much older than the majority of those returning from war that none should possess stories of their youth - and yet eager as they were to associate themselves with the general, not one of those who knew him out on the bloodfields could tie themselves to him in blackwick county.

The story that each end every one of them did tell was thus: it was said that in their first assignment as a head officer Chine had by either luck or improbable reflexes dodged a bullet that should have blown his brains out. It had torn through their face instead, but instead of seeking medical treatment as would any reasonable man, the general had actually run ahead to join the lowest of their rank to lead them all to victory.

In the wildest versions chine breaches enemy lines to find the specific individual who had fired the bullet that hit them. So-called witnesses take great joy in describing the terror in the enemy soldier’s eyes as chine snarled in their face, spraying them with his own blood before killing them bare handed. One person, a drunk, swore that chine had bitten the enemy soldier’s face clean off in retaliation, chewing and spitting the flesh back at them as they bled out on the muddy ground - That account was generally dismissed as gross exaggeration, but chine themself had yet to deny it.

publicly, chine allowed fact and fiction to mix freely, it seemed. every month one or two young people would come home on leave and bring with them new stories of the general’s success. many were believable if exaggerated, but at least a quarter of them were so ridiculous that duvall only knew their endings if lyke or es recounted them to him later, for if he didn’t walk away when people spread such falsities he’d make enemies of those enjoying themselves and he did at least have enough restraint to avoid that.

The only part of it duvall put any faith on was that the general, at some point, had been shot in the face, and that his refusal of swift medical intervention had caused an infection that had nearly killed them. It had cost them the sight in their eye and had almost certainly left them with quite a bit of nerve damage, too. That the ordeal had also won them the hearts of all under his command also appeared true, though duvall struggled to understand why anyone would idealize a fool too stubborn to accept help.

The thought of it scared him a little, if he’s honest. Duvall is far from squeamish, but a man so reckless and willing to die - how many under them had suffered for it, too? Those who had commissions that kept them from the front lines and who survived to praise Chine did so with what sounded like genuine admiration, but Duvall’s stomach churned thinking of the common folk that were conscripted into the war, held to the same expectations of sacrifice as those who had joined willingly.

And so, when forced to listen to the third story in a row of some miraculous victory chine had won, the thing that most reliably kept his mouth shut (there’s simply no way that an entire battalion surrendered at the sight of chine, no matter how frightening he might be) was the satisfaction that at the very least there was one person here who would give this terrible man neither respect nor common courtesy, and that it should be him.

Eventually, Lyke caught on to his game. The good lady Es was explaining to them both how clever the general was, really, to stick to the story of having no name of his own - the temptation was that if he would bring no name to a match, any marriage would result in the spouse’s family absorbing all of their status and apparent wealth without diluting the strength of their line. They were a gift with no strings attached - except for the general themself, who was intimidating, to say the least. Even this, though, gained him suitors - for few young nobles could resist a challenge

“Or it would be clever, if they appeared interested in courting” Es closes her fan and taps it against her lip, considering, “he accepts dances readily enough, but rarely keeps the same partner twice. I suppose they could be fanning the flames on purpose, but they’re exceptionally hard to read, I-”

“Our dear friend duvall doesn’t want to hear about it, Es. can’t you see you’re just making him insufferably smug about being immune to the captain’s… well, charm might not be the word here..”

“gravity?” Es suggests, “that would certainly describe the pull we all feel to his story, if not to the general himself.” she smiles at duvall, almost pitying, “and it would describe something worth being proud of resisting”

“sure, sure. the word isn’t really important anyway,” lyke says, “ it’s that mr duvall thinks he’s above us because he claims to be unimpressed.”

“i never said that”

“but you think it!” lyke laughs, “it’s all a ruse though, i think you’re just afraid of him.” he looks at es, grinning, “i think he’s just afraid of him, don’t you?”

es takes a moment to consider duvall, who struggles to figure out the appropriate expression to make that would communicate that fear has nothing to do with it, but aware that es would be looking for signs of bluster, and faltering because of it.

“i think lord duvall is within his rights to focus his attention elsewhere.” she says, slowly, “how is your research coming along?”

lyke groans loudly, but duvall instantly relaxes, grateful to have a friend in her.

—————-

“ok but did you see the look on Dayward’s face when he realized chine had left the floor as soon as they passed him off? he came back ‘round and just stood there! if he wasn’t already red, he’d-

“no”

“no?”

“no, i didn’t see.” duvall doesn’t turn from the buffet, looking his best as if he cared which olive he was going to pretend to enjoy eating later, “i haven’t cared much for dancing lately.”

“huh”

lyke is making the face he does when he’s trying not to laugh; lips stretched wide but pressed together, wobbling at the edges like his smile is about to burst out. duvall puts down his olive, sighing, “what?”

“i just thought you’d find that funny”

“oh, sure.” duvall takes his plate and walks to his favorite hiding place, lyke following close behind, “it is funny. and i’m grateful that he’s managed to keep everyone’s attention this long”

the door opens out onto a balcony that’s been used for storage. it’s got the same large glass doors and is no smaller than the rest, but the piles of empty pots and gardening supplies block one door completely and fill about half of the space.

duvall reaches into one of the larger pots and pulls out a book. he grins and waives it at lyke, “the peace and quiet has been wonderful for my nerves”

lyke huffs a laugh, “you’re going to regret it if you hole yourself up like this. remember how long it took you to get the steps to <dance name> right after you got back from your last excursion?”

“excursion” duvall glares at lyke, hands flexing on his book, “it was an expedition, and one you saw profit from! your last paper would have been nothing without the artifacts i -!”

“-woa now, i never said i wasn’t grateful. thank you, duvall.” lyke leans on the balcony, looking back into the party, “i only mean to remind you that your eccentricities, while endearing to me, are in danger of eclipsing your good reputation.”

“Thanks. I really needed that reminder.”

“I’m just looking out for you! Showing you i care!”

“I-”

The unblocked door creeks open and es leans out. She’s smiling and her hair is partially falling about her shoulders, “would one of you escort me to the dance floor? I’m afraid my dear mr Ode has had enough of the floor tonight but the music is fantastic and i should like to be out in it.”

Duvall feels the dreadful certainty that he’s been trapped, but Lyke speaks up before he can, yawning dramatically, “Oh i’m afraid i’m much too tired tonight Es, but Duvall was just talking about feeling left out this season.”

Es glances between them

#asks #chine/duvall regency au #my writing #WIP...thursday #i would really love a day of uninterrupted allowed-to-write time........#or uninterrupted allowed-to-anything time hahahaha #but thank you anon #i struggle to maintain conversations but periodic reminder that i'm not stranger-shy and am happy to talk to anyone most of the time #which is to say i'd love to exchange thoughts and ideas whenever

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naromoreau · 6 years ago

Text

Eyes wide open

Pairing: Joseph Seed x Deputy Rook Rating: E (NSFTUMBLR) I wrote this idea based on one of the amazing @outranks’ hedcanons, you can find here. Also, big shout out to @outranks herself for being such an awesome friend and encourage and review this. SMOOCH. _______________________________________

Behind the lectern, Joseph wrings his fingers and lets out a sharp breath. It’s not as if he’s nervous. Perhaps a bit anxious. A lot of water has flowed under the bridge since the last time he felt like this about someone. Always waiting for her to show up as if he couldn’t concentrate otherwise. It’s hard to mask it though. His attention can’t be astray from his duty because his flock needs him, especially now. He’s the Father and they are his children.

And now more than ever he’s determined to strengthen the Project, having something especially precious to protect.

It’s just right then when he sees her.

His jaw tenses of its own accord and the air is suddenly puffed out of his lungs. There’s a dry click in his throat as he swallows, his cheeks flushing at improper – certainly impure – thoughts. He tries to deflect them, to scythe them completely, thinking about his sermon, but he finds no comfort there. His eyes swivel from the line of her chest up her face, where she’s looking at him with the biggest smile. A vestal virgin and wanton Venus all in one.

He clears his throat making an effort to smile nonchalantly, watching her take a seat in the front row next to Faith. Right in front of him.

By now he’s acutely aware of his dick already at full mast inside his pants, forcing him to keep his place behind the lectern. Her stiff nipples poke through the thin fabric and he feels his lips dry, stuttering in his speech. Big drops of sweat slide down his temples as he tries to sail through words that just haul his mind to wrong places.

“Lest again, when I come, God humble me among you, and I mourn many of them that sinned before, and have not done penance for the uncleanness and fornication and lasciviousness that they have committed, says the Apostle.” He almost gruffs at the irony, “and we should not let the root of that sin fester inside us.”

He grits his teeth when she shifts in her seat, uncrossing her legs and spreading them just enough to offer him a perfect view of her bare cunt. His cock throbs painfully and he musters all his will to not crack mid sentence and throw himself down the stairs and claim her. He’s only human, he thinks, and it stings like a pin prick. Her darkened eyes are burning into his skin as she leans forward, her full breasts almost spilling from her dress.

He glances to the sides, casually, just to make sure no one is setting eyes on his Rook and he draws a breath of relief. The attention of the crowd is on him and him alone. The possessive vein pulsing inside, shrouds his mind, urging him to take her right then and there.

No. Focus.

What was he saying? The brief stop has John and Jacob already leaning forward, inquiring gazes directed at him. Joseph raises both hands and keeps going.

He forces himself to draw his attention elsewhere, to not dwell on her, but it’s easier said than done. His eyes are pull to Rook as if they were metal to a magnet, provoking even in the peripheria of his vision. He stomps down a growl when she draws her index finger to her lips, seemingly deep in thought, just to suck it gently, her lips pursing enticingly.

Images of Rook, smiling at him from between his thighs, the tip of his dick disappearing into her mouth, flood his mind in a slew that makes his blood run hot. It’d been just one time but every single move and sensation is scorched in his brain making him shiver whenever he decides to dredge them up. That’s more often than he wants to admit. He clasps the sides of the lectern tightly, knuckles white, and good Lord in heaven– It’s not lust. It’s not. She’s the only one who makes him feel like this.

He doesn’t know how, but he finishes the service, stumbling upon words. He beckons to John and Jacob to help him dismiss the faithful, and he’s sure by now John has a pretty tame idea of his predicament. It’s written on his face. Soon everyone is dispersed and away.

He finally set his eyes on Rook, narrowing them slightly, and nods once the doors close. If that’s what she wants, he wouldn’t fight against it anymore.

Rook’s heart thunders in her chest, blood buzzing in her ears as she winds up closer to Joseph, counting her steps as a form of grounding. Has she pushed too far? She can’t tell but yet she hopes. Wants to feel him fucking her, all tethers of his restraint loose until there’s only raw touch and lewd sounds, until they both are dazed by everything they are when they’re together.

She doesn’t want to admit to be bested in her own game, not yet, because she could’ve sworn she’d seen a crack in his calmness if just for the splinter of a second. Rook feels her slick wetness trickling down her thighs, her core aching for the thick fill of his dick. This is wrong. This is a sinner’s doing, but she can’t hack a low moan as the space disappears between them.

As soon as she’s within his arm’s reach, Joseph pulls her close, his fingers curling around her arms so tightly she can feel how very disrupted he is. Shaky hands when he’s always firm. His breath puffs against her lips and she trembles under the intensity that radiates from him, her throat going dry. He presses her against a wall, giving her a bruising kiss, all tongue and teeth, and thick amounts of spilled lust. She gasps for air the moment he releases her, overwhelmed by the sheer force of what she intentionally unleashed. She can’t help but huddle closer when he finds her swollen folds, dipping two fingers inside her. Her teeth sink in her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

“So this is what you want?” It’s not a scolding, but the tint of his voice isn’t mellow.

He grinds her hips against hers and Rook whimpers, feeling his hard on rubbing her thigh. She wants to answer, wants to blurt out a yes, but he’s pushing words aside as he slides in and out of her, and the only thing she can do is nod.

“On your knees.”

Joseph’s order threatens to overload her, his voice thick as his need mounts on every word.

She does as she’s told, not doubting for a second, and a sliver of surprise gleams in her mind at the realization of how much she wants this. To let him do as he pleases and maybe, just maybe she’ll watch that self-control shatter like cracked glass.

He places a finger under her chin, tilting her head up, a dark smile dancing on those lips she craves to kiss. “You shouldn’t have done that, my dear,” he says. He frees his engorged erection and she can feel herself positively clenching. Aching.

“Done what?” She swallows a hard gulp, finally finding her voice, pretending it doesn’t affect her, pretending she still has a tinge of control.

“You know well I’m not one to be teased,” he chides softly. He pops the buttons of her dress open, baring her before him. “What if someone saw you? Did you think of that?” A flash of unhinged anger glimmers behind the yellow tinted glasses but Rook knows it’s not aimed at her.

“You wouldn’t let anyone touch me,” she purrs, trying to look as innocent as she knows she’d like.

“You’re are not wrong, my dear.”

He pumps his dick, his rosary swinging from his palm in stark contradiction to the scene in place. She opens her mouth in a thoughtless reaction. Ragged breath in and out, air seems so scarce around her.

“Are you– are you really so eager to–”

Rook has never seen him stepping on his words, but now Joseph looks almost struck dumb,

“Yes,” she says, flicking his tongue out and winding it around the thick head of his cock; her intentions crystal clear.

He groans, stricken, leaning down to cup her face.

He guides himself into her mouth and she takes him in. Rook tries to relax her jaw, otherwise she knows it’ll hurt next morning; a blessed ache regardless. He hisses as soon as she has her tongue flat against his ridges. His fingers flex against her skull, as he slides deeper down her throat.

“That’s my good girl,” he rasps, voice hoarse, “you’re perfect for me–so good, you take my cock so beautifully.”

She sinks her nails on his hips at the first deep thrust, gagging a little. He stills but she quickly bobs her head up and down, trying to show him. She can take it. She wants to. Her lips close tightly inches near the base, almost making her choke on his cock but she still manages to swallow, greedily. Her eyes squeeze shut, trying to give steady breaths pressing herself forward. Is worth it because Joseph is fucking her face, too far gone into her wet heat, head tipped back and mouth slack.

He tightens the grip on her hair, twisting his wrist. “You’re made for me, and me alone, you hear me?” His words are airy, interspersed with grunts and puffs of needed air.

She makes some kind of noise that resembles a word. To shows she agrees. She knows he’s getting closer when his hips jut forward and his cock pulses in her mouth. A pang of disappointment arrows through her, her cunt aching to be filled, but she hollows her cheeks determined to swallow until the last drop he gives her. In that moment, Joseph stills, hefting her by the shoulders.

“As much as I’d love to come in your mouth, my darling, I think I need to claim other parts of you as well.” By now his eyes are just a thin rim of blue around dark pools of hunger. It makes her body feel like jello.

He kisses her again, gruffing a little as he swirls his tongue over teeth and palate, lips demanding against her own and swallowing the overflow of drool she accumulated within. She clings to the broad line of his shoulders, as if it was a lifeline. A sharp whimper is all what her wrecked throat manages.

Joseph turns her around, bending her over, making her press her hands flat against the wall. She grinds against him. Shamelessly. Some fiction is all she needs.

“You just need to ask, darling.” He nudges her entrance, teasing her and she knows this is just fair payback, “you’ll always get what you want from me.”

He pushes inside, burying himself to the hilt in one glide, and a whine catches in her chest as she rolls her hips to try and adjust to how thick he is. If she didn’t know him better, she’d think he’s as composed as always, but his push is a bit forceful and it would’ve chaffed her if she wasn’t soaking wet by now. She spreads her knees further apart, rotating her hips as if she could drag him deeper, moaning at the hard stretch of his cock.

Her calves burn, taut in the stretch and she’s glad she’s using heels. Joseph is a little bent but he’s still so much taller than her and she doesn’t think she would’ve manage to– to–. Her body jerks under his harsh thrusts, his pace nor gentle or slow. But it feels good, so fucking good she’ll break in no time. His hands slide over her hips, up her waist, one moving up, up, until he’s massaging her breasts. A very gentle squeeze in honest contrast with his hard fucking.

“My good girl, that’s what you are.”

She can feel the panted gust of his broken words on her back, flaring goosebumps on her skin, breath that’s catching in his throat in every syllable. She turns her neck, and the ravenous hunger flaring back from his eyes stings her deep. He cups her jaw catching her lips. It’s a sloppy kiss, far more animalistic than never before and Rook shudders feeling his hips slamming against her ass. Her hands slide down, coated in sweat, unable to support her but she finds some leverage to keep her hips poised.

“Come for me, darling, come around me, let me look at you,” Joseph whispers, leaning forward, hands curled around her hips. The beads of his rosary brushing intermittently against her thigh.

Rook suddenly forgets how to breath, how to speak, mind numb by every steadfast touch and the thick fill inside her. “I just– I– please, please.”

She’s falling apart in a downward spiral, drawn to edge by Joseph fucking her open, testing her limits everytime he ruts against her, and she’s aware of that blissful ache in her cunt that predicts her imminent climax. Every thrust forces a word, a praise, a moan out of her until she finally comes, a whole constellation of stars revolving in her vision, a broken kind of sob rent from her throat and into the room. She loses herself to the ripples of pleasure and the rush of blood in her ears, body going limp. Joseph holds her, pressing flat kisses to the hollow crease of her back, up to the nape of her neck, his hands circling her waist until she’s able to stand on semi steady legs again. It feels so wet. She can feel it and hear it and she’s sure the gush of liquid must’ve soaked Joseph’s pants. He’s not complaining, only grunting at the quivering clench of her core, now practically hammering his way into her, faster and messier.

“You’re mine, my love,” he pants, withdrawing almost entirely just to slam back home. Once. Twice. And again. “You belong to me.”

His pace goes off rhythm, rough and frantic, and Rook lets out a muffled sob of anticipation. His release comes swiftly, pulling her closer until her hips are flush with his, filling her up like he always does. A hard gasp as his only telltale.

When he pulls out, she closes her thighs trying to prevent his come from dripping out. Something that comes natural to her after all this time. Joseph grins watching her, a low rumble of satisfaction in his chest and draws her closer. He kisses her, lips now soft, almost soothing. Calm after a storm.

“I think we may need atonement for this, my darling.”

She sighs, a shaky intake of breath, as her eyes flicker locking on his. “Yeah, I think you may be right.”

Joseph smiles, kissing the back of her hand. Always a gentleman. “Come, then, our bed is waiting for us.”

#far cry 5 #far cry 5 fanfiction #joseph seed #deputy rook #joseph seed x deputy rook #female deputy #my writing #writing joe is hard as fuck

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mooleche · 5 years ago

Text

A Tale of Ink and Venom

Chapter 3 - The Encounter

A/N - This one’s quite chonky so apologies in advance! Also light gore/violence near the end, for forewarning. If you’d like to be tagged in future chapter updates let me know! Enjoy! （*´▽｀*）

By the time I made it back to the labs most of the lower level was barren of people. A few stragglers lurked here and there to finish up what work they had while poor Barry struggled to stay awake during his patrol around the halls.

“Oh! Evenin’ Miss Knight,” he called, jolting awake as I passed. I shot him a hurried wave before continuing my brisk walk to Renato’s lab, caught up in the conversation Mr. Lee and I had shared. He had planted a seed of motivation in me that I hadn’t felt in ages and now that it was here I wasn’t going to let it disappear.

“Hey, I’m back! Sorry for being so late, I got caught up with Mr. Lee. Also, I wanted to run something by y- Bam?” I started as I walked into his lab only to pause short when I saw her full figure leaning against one of the tables. Renato pushed his glasses up and sauntered towards me with hand outstretched for the signatures like he did every time I returned. I obliged, too caught up in seeing my best friend to finish my sentence. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know. Needed some downtime to work on my projects and thought you could use some company. But I also nabbed us some free dinner!"

“I would hardly call the guilt-trip you gave me ‘nabbing free dinner’,” Renato muttered under his breath as he returned to his desk, fully ignoring Bam’s eyes following him the entire time.

“Did it not work?” she asked smugly.

“A little too well. Surprised you’re not following in your father's footsteps with how well you persuade people," he retorted.

"Ugh, way too drab. I wanna be the one that takes the scandal photos of the politicians. After all, how else was I going to get daddy to pay for my college tuition?"

Renato shared a look of suspicion with me and went silent at this, knowing he couldn’t beat Bambi at her own game. You see, despite her name being so innocent, she was not . To give context, the Banks were a family of politicians, and after her father had made the unfortunate decision of voicing interest in a bill to out mutantkinds identities during talk at the dinner table both Bambi and Benni had made it their god-given right to give him absolute hell. All it took were a set of scandalous photos taken of the parties involved and the super-sleuthing computer skills of Benni’s and the two had not only gotten the bill vetoed but also gained a full ride to college to keep quiet.

They didn’t. But that was another story for another day. All I can say is that I was glad that she was on our side because gods help you if she wasn’t.

“Anyway,” Renato sighed as he fished out his wallet from his back pocket, carefully removing some crisp bills to place in my hand, “Hate to send you right back out but we thought you’d be back sooner. You still like Mr. Basils, right?”

“Hmm, hard to say since we eat there every day,” I teased as I felt Bambi loop her arm around mine and drag me towards the door. “You got me my usual, right?” I called as I struggled against her pull, but Renato’s response was lost to the low hum of the machines whirring amidst the other rooms.

“Yeah, yeah, he got you something spicy. You like that, right?” Bambi answered as we headed back out into the streets once more and I nodded softly. Now that the sun was beginning to set the air grew cooler and I dove my hands into my hoodie. I felt her grip on me grow a little tighter as we walked in casual silence, noticing now that she had sacrificed warmth for style. She donned a light loose cardigan over a lace tank top where an array of different necklaces that jingled with every step we took. Her lower half consisted of shorts and chic ankle boots that made me wonder how in the world she thought she could manage in this weather. I had no time to properly question this before she cocked her head to the side and grinned. “So what’s the scoop? What you were going to ask Renato?” she inquired curiously.

I shrugged in response.

“It’s nothing serious, just some hypotheticals…” I admitted, feeling my stomach twist with hunger as a familiar smell wafted through the air. We had arrived at our destination sooner than expected, a Thai restaurant that was quoted as ‘The most lively hole in the wall in town!’, and I was inclined to agree. While it was small in size it almost never held an empty seat, and that was no different today as we shuffled into its busy entrance.

This didn’t matter to Bambi though, who’s eyes to lit up with curiosity at my words as we shuffled past a small group of people to get to the register.

“I love a good hypothetical. Go on,” she urged, but my attention had been fixated on the short double swinging doors that hid behind the counter. A small set of doors that had a smaller man burst through with arms that shot up in excitement at the sight of us moments later.

“My favorites, Pinky, and the Brain!” he greeted us warmly.

“Hi, Mr. Basil,” we chimed in unison, though Bambi’s grip grew slightly tighter around my arm at the nicknames. Mr. Basil was an elderly man who had opened this restaurant up with his wife many years ago. No one knew their real last name, only that they shared a love for basil so much that they made a business out of it, and it worked . Can’t fault someone for that logic. Especially when he was so warmhearted about it.

He hummed softly as he rang us up, disappearing back through the door before I could ask how business was doing.

Bambi, however, dropped her smile and rolled her eyes.

“Honestly, does he always have to call us Pinky and the Brain? I'm the one with the higher GPA."

"Why don't you tell him that sir brags-a-lot," I asked smugly while pointing to the pink poking from under her beanie. She scrunched her nose up in response.

“You still didn’t answer my question, by the way,” she added, the determination in her voice growing the longer I avoided talking about my earlier inquiries. “Spill the beans, Knight.”

“Okay, okay . It honestly wasn’t anything big I just..I was going to ask Renato if maybe he could pull some strings so I could visit Xavier’s School…” I admitted in a hushed tone, my hands wringing together nervously that others would overhear. I had never seen Bambi’s face light up as fast as it did when it clicked.

“No shit? Nina, that’s huge!” she grinned before wrapping her arms around me and squeezing tight. I smiled as I sank into her hug, a feeling of relief filling me at her support. As hard as I had tried to live a normal life I missed the days when I could be myself, and Bambi knew this all too well. It’s why she pushed me so hard to go back so I could spread my wings a little more, and after the pep talk I had gotten today I felt it was finally time to fly.

She separated herself from me as Mr. Basil reappeared, this time with a large, neatly wrapped bag and a smaller, more colorful wrapped bag beside it.

“Sorry for the wait! For Little Levi, Mrs. Basil’s special treat!” he whispered warmly and I blinked in surprise. Little Levi was short for Little Leviathan, Renato’s pet cuttlefish The Basils had fallen in love with after seeing one of many proud pet owner photos Renato carried with him at all times. I’d tease him mercilessly for this if I wasn’t absolutely taken by that adorable crustacean myself.

I just make fun of him for everything else instead.

We thanked him and Bambi and I both took a bag, her face set in a small, pleased smile as we set back for the lab.

“Why are you smiling like that?” I asked suspiciously, her pleasant silence causing me to grow curious.

“This sudden change of heart wouldn’t have anything to do with that video we saw this morning, would it?” she asked, her smile growing wider as I stopped abruptly and frowned. I hadn’t even thought of the video since we had watched it. Not even once.

Alright.

Maybe once.

“What? No! No. What video?” I laughed nervously before Bambi stopped as well, nudging me with a sly smirk.

“I’m kidding. But I am proud of you, Neeners. I know this is a big step for you and…” She was saying something to me, something that sounded borderline encouraging, or so I thought, but my attention was drifting elsewhere.

A trickle of people had begun rushing past us, voices of worry weaving in and out of my range of hearing before a low rumble broke through the air.

“Bambi,” I interrupted softly, the hushed voices I had been hearing now growing louder, footsteps growing more rapid as the trickle turned into a mass of panicked bodies running past us in the street. I watched as a wide-eyed man ran head-on into her before he picked himself up and continued running away unabashedly to both of our surprise, but Bambi was not having it.

“Asshole!” I heard her shout as she tried to recollect herself, drifting into the street to try and get a look at the man that had knicked her, but he had already melded into the group of other panicked people. My stomach began to dance like I had just unleashed a wasps nest inside of it, like something very bad was on its way and we needed to join them. “What’s going on…?” she asked, but I had no time to answer.

I saw it before she did, a giant piece of debris flying straight where she stood and I ran forward.

“Get out of the way!”

I yanked her back against the wall and we listened in stunned horror as it scraped against the ground with a terrible screech and slowed to a stop. Once the fear of almost having a decapitated best friend wore off my eyes adjusted to the scrap, a disfigured car door that had been ripped off its hinges as tossed aside.

Bambi’s eyes made her look like a deer in headlights before she turned to me in horror and gripped my hand that was visibly shaking.

“You saved me…”

“I…”

I tried to answer, but a low menacing roar rang through the air that made my voice catch in my throat. Every inch of my body told me to run the other way, to find safety and wait this sudden disaster out while the real heroes came to save the day. But somewhere deep down told me they were never coming, and my curiosity was too strong not to see who, or what was causing all of this chaos.

So I went forward.

“Wait up!” Bambi called as she joined my side, hand still glued to mine as we rushed against the current of panicked civilians. Together we stood at the corner of a nearby street while the screams around us continued. Ahead of us smoke blocked any sign of what was happening, like a final warning to leave while we still could.

Then, like a veil lifting, I saw it.

A hulking black silhouette getting up, the same hulking black mass I had seen in the blurred news photos earlier this morning. Renato’s worried speech rang through my head as if pleading me to turn back, but my feet stood rooted to the spot.

The one time I didn’t listen to him and now we were in the thick of it.

“That’s him, that’s the villain!” Bambi whispered in horror or disbelief I couldn’t tell, but we watched as it released another bone-chilling roar and she looked around in worry. “Where the hell are the Avengers?”

I don’t know, I wanted to answer. They were international now, hell it wasn’t too long ago that they had fought off aliens from our planet. Brooklynn was now small time for them, and it was more apparent than ever in this moment.

But then a flicker of red caught my attention as if sensing my doubt. My jaw went slack with awe as we watched the smoke settle just in time for the mystery assailant to lay a devastating blow against the monstrous figure's chest that sent him staggering back.

“I don’t believe it…” I whispered when he landed, masked appearance revealing who I had never expected to see saving the day.

“Is that Captain America…?” Bambi whispered back in awe and, despite the circumstances, I whipped my head to look at her in disappointment.

“Are you kidding me right now? That’s Spider-Man!”

“What? They both wear blue and red, give me a break!”

“WHAT? Captain America wears almost all blue and white and uses a red shie-You know what, I'm not doing this right now." I announced, having to stop myself from going on what was probably the nerdiest tangent I would ever have in my life.

I knew superheroes like she knew famous politician drama. The drama on Spiderman was that while he had once been your friendly neighborhood vigilante, no one had seen nor heard from him in months . Tabloids had suspected maybe he had finally bit the big one. Others assumed maybe he finally just craved a proper getaway after being worked to the bone saving people all day.

To see him now felt like I was watching a unicorn fight crime.

Bambi had already clocked out as soon as I had opened my mouth but now stared intensely forward, reaching for my face to direct me to join what she was watching.

“I definitely know who THAT is,” she grinned as my sights settled amidst the debris.

No freaking way.

There picking a wedgie out of his ass as if he wasn’t about to square up to something three times his size stood Deadpool, ex-trainee disaster himself. I blinked in surprise, unsure if I was seeing this scene correctly. I knew next to nothing about him, only the recent chaos he had caused and that he, and I quote, ‘Was right all along and everyone could blow me!’.

He was a real character if nothing else.

I felt like I was dreaming. This team-up was as uncanny as it was to even see them in the first place, and we had just gotten a front-row seat to them saving the day.

That was until the creature caught Deadpools leg and sent him colliding straight into Spiderman like he was the last bowling pin in the lane.

Bambi and I winced.

Then we both said something very unexpected.

“You have to help them!”

“I should help them,”

“Wait, what?” we said in unison as the words processed fully. I couldn’t believe I had said that. I couldn’t believe SHE had said that.

“What in the world makes you think I can do anything to help them?” I asked, still in disbelief at my own words while watching her begin rummaging through her bag with a newfound purpose.

“Are you kidding me? I’ve seen what you can do, and this is what you wanted right? Look at them,” she added, another wince leaving us as Deadpool was tossed into the air like a ragdoll. “They can use all the help they can get.”

She wasn’t wrong. They were fighting a losing battle, and even though I hadn’t done this myself in a long while I knew deep down what the right choice to make was.

Deep down I still wanted to save the day.

“...Alright.” I agreed softly as I dropped my bag to the ground, a newfound determination in me that had not been there moments before. I slipped my gloves off before plunging into the contents of my bag only to retrieve a bundle of papers. Various drawings and schematics of weapons I had worked on in my spare time, all drawn in ink, all ready to be summoned at the drop of a hat.

“Hello? You just walk around with these willy nilly??”

“Not exactly…” I admitted sheepishly before choosing a particularly feisty looking sledgehammer and sprawling the paper down across the concrete. While I usually kept these for a rainy day, I had wanted to test them with Renato to see how they faired. There was no time like the present to test that theory out yourself though. And that’s exactly what I did as I rubbed my hands together and slapped them down on the sheet.

My nerves were on edge. It was risky to do such a thing out here while so many people were running about and my body was quickly realizing this as my hands shook with anxiety while I struggled to work my magic. But desperate times called for desperate measures and the sounds of the two superheroes continuing to get pummeled in the background was enough to push me through.

I watched with anticipation as the inky black sludge that pooled from the paper and my hands merged to form a solid black sledgehammer. It was weighty, reeked of ink and had a good swing to it, but would it be enough?

There was no time to make sure. I stood and smeared my hand across my eyes for a very hasty attempt to save my identity with an even messier attempt to tie my hair back. In the time that it had taken to do this Bambi had successfully retrieved a camera that I was sure was more than both my kidneys combined and beamed at me.

“I just want you to know you look super badass right now,”

“O-oh. Thanks…” I smiled weakly, feeling my cheeks grow warm. That feeling soon died down as a deafening crash sounded off nearby, my innards squirming with fear as another violent roar echoed into the air. Bambi's hand squeezed my shoulder as if to snap me from my fear.

“Relax. You’re Nina Fucking Knight, you can do this.”

“I can do this,” I whispered in confidence. I didn’t believe myself, but I believed in Bambi and her belief in me, and at that moment that was all I needed to step forward. One encouraging slap to my ass later I was stumbling, trying not to trip over myself as I got closer to the carnage that lurked ahead.

My heart began pounding like a drum. The dizziness from the sudden use of my powers was quickly catching up to me before I could properly shake it off, and I kicked myself for not putting that into consideration before diving in. It was too late to focus on that now though. My attention snapped forward and the creature towered above me as it admired its prize that was a battered and bruised Spiderman, now trapped within its grasp and unable to fight back.

I had to act fast.

“H-hey! Ivan Ooze!”

The words left me before I knew what I was saying and I readied myself, not giving myself time to realize this was an extremely bad idea before swinging my entire body into the hit in an attempt to stun him. I felt the contact, and for a moment I was excited, but instead of sending him falling over himself like I had hoped I listened to what can only be described as the most horrifying noise you could ever hear in a situation like this.

My sledgehammer shattered.

I stood in stunned horror looking at the shards of broken ink below me as the monster turned and faced me, completely unaffected by my embarrassing blow. The first thing I saw were teeth. Long, sharp jagged teeth that ran up into a gnarled grin as it looked down at me with white, milky eyes.

“I’d like to apologize,” was all I could muster before watching Spiderman get flung onto the concrete like a toy. I spun around to make my quick exit, realizing in that moment that this was quite possibly the worst mistake I had ever made. In the distance, I saw Bambi’s horrified gaze as I struggled to walk quickly towards her in an attempt to flee, only to feel a large clawed hand wrap around me and yank me back.

“Where do you think you’re going?” it asked, voice deep with malice as a long tongue slid out from between its teeth. I grimaced as it ran along my face, the hot sticky sensation leaving a chill of fear running up my spine as a deep chuckle emerged from its throat at my disgust. "Two meals for the price of one? Today must be our lucky day."

From below I heard a groan of pain and we both looked to find Spiderman struggling to stand. There was fury in his eyes and my heart jolted with hope as he looked ready to continue fighting the good fight.

“Leave her alone. Your fight is with me,” he called, but my hope soon died as I watched him stagger and fall once more. I began to struggle like my life depended on it. Hell, at this point my life DID depend on it. The monster's grip only grew tighter at my efforts until I felt the stabbing pain of its claws begin to sink into my skin and I winced.

“What? No witty banter for your last moments? Pity.” it asked as its face grew close to mine. All I could do was close my eyes and pretend I was somewhere else. Somewhere where I wasn’t about to be mincemeat to Flubber’s roided up cousin.

“Yeesh. Can you believe this guy? I asked for tall, dark and handsome, I'm gonna give you a guess on what they missed in this request.” a new voice called out now. I opened one eye to find Deadpool a few feet away standing on top of a car with a gun at the ready to the creature who roared in response.

“Don’t you ever die?!”

“You know I ask myself that every day? Hey there, thanks for that distraction, by the way. The name’s Deadpool, and you are?” he asked me now, completely ignoring the 7 ft villain that looked ready to tear him in two.

The question caught me off guard and I answered as well as one would in that situation.

“I’m Nina, I-I’m a big fan!”

Smooth.

“Well Nina,” he started while pointing a girthy looking gun to the angered creature, “This has been a real treat, and I appreciate you saving my man over there, but I think it’s my turn to save the day if I wanna get that victory kiss.”

“By all means,” I winced as its grip against me grew tighter, the feeling of claw cutting through my skin beginning to grow stronger. Only the mention of ‘my man’ and ‘victory kiss’ had caught me off guard, and I shot him a look of confusion at his words only to be met with horror. While Deadpool had been ready to fire point-blank at it, he realized all too soon that he had no ammo and looked frantically from his gun to us in confusion.

“Well that’s not great,” he muttered before it released a furious roar. My heart gave a jolt of fear, convinced that this would be my final moment and I began to struggle with a newfound determination. It was then that I realized I had still been white-knuckling the remnants of my sledgehammer this entire time and I twisted my arm painfully out of its position. I closed my eyes, knowing I only had a few seconds to focus on sharpening the broken pole to drive it deep into its hand in one last hail mary.

And boy did I deliver.

The noise it made was deafening, but the feeling of being flung into the windshield of a car was even worse as I felt the impact hit my back with brute force. I could do nothing but groan in pain and hold my head as the world spun around me, like getting a look into a cartoon characters life when they got a mallet to the face.

“Nina! Nina, oh my god,” Bambi's voice filled the air and I rolled haphazardly off the car to try and find her voice. I jolted in fear as I felt hands wrap around my arm, but the soft reassuring touch told me it was her and I sank against her weakly.

“Hey there! You’re a gentleman and a scholar for your efforts, now let me handle the rest!” he called as my vision began to stop spinning. We watched as he somehow had hitched a ride on the back of this monster via katana to the shoulder blade and now flailed on it’s back like a cowboy at a rodeo. "Y'know I have to ask, WHERE IS THE HULK IN THIS SITUATION? CAN'T SPARE AN AVENGER FOR THIS?" he yelled while desperately held on for dear life, though we were unsure who he was directing his words at this point.

“That’s what I said!” Bambi called, but the way he snapped his attention back to us seemed a clear indication that he was not speaking to us at all.

"As much as I enjoy your enthusiasm I feel like you should be running!" he called to us, but we were rooted to the spot in fear at the chain of events that had begun in that same moment.

It all happened so quickly, and yet it still felt like an eternity.

All it had taken was a slip of his foot and he was in its range of reach, who now took the chance to grab his leg and yank him violently forward.

“We won’t let you run again,” I heard it growl menacingly before gripping Deadpools upper and lower halves and pulling hard. My eyes grew wide with terror as I heard his bones pop and skin tear before he began wailing a series of ‘ows’ that grew more frantic with each passing second.

And then suddenly he was in two pieces.

Bambi emitted a shriek of terror as his blood hit us, yanking my frozen figure back as I tried to process what had just happened.

But I knew all too well what had happened.

I had just watched Deadpool die and I had done nothing to stop it.

I had failed as a hero.

#long post #marvelsona #oc shit #oc x colossus

6 notes · View notes

alittleimagine · 7 years ago

Text

Nate Heywood x Reader

Anonymous requested “Could you please do an imagine with Nate Heywood where the team goes to the late 1800s to find who Jack the Ripper was and to stop him from killing and along the way they meet young H.G wells who is instantly attracted to the reader. The reader later starts to fall in love with the young wells .Nate gets jealous and starts to act cold and distant towards the reader because he likes the reader a lot . The reader wants to know why he is acting that way so tells her how he feels.”

Note: I know there’s now an episode about vampires in Victorian London, but I actually started writing this on March 12th and just took forever to get back to it.

“H. G. Wells isn’t even supposed to be in London at this time.”

“Sure, Nate, focus on that and not that fact that Jack the Ripper is a vampire.”

Most of you shared amused looks at Sara’s comment while Nate frowned. He had originally been excited to be in 1888, thrilled to help stop Jack the Ripper from killing more than the five victims he had in history. He seemed less excited now.

You couldn’t understand why. Meeting H. G. had just meant an additional historical figure you’d all run into. You hadn’t been the biggest fan of his works, but you could appreciate meeting him. And he’d been very charming.

“The truth is that the virus only simulates the symptoms of what we would recognize as, well, as the pop culture symptoms of vampirism.” Stein said, reading over the display Gideon had pulled up with Ray over his shoulder.

Mick grunted. “Does he drink blood?” He asked.

Stein hesitated before sighing and nodding.

“Then he’s a vampire.”

“We might also want to talk about the Waverider.” Jax said.

You all turned to look at him. Sara tilted her head at him. “I thought you said that you’d have it fixed by tomorrow.”

Futuristic viruses didn’t just land in 1888 by accident. Space Pirates were a consistent problem in your lives and a nonstop pain in Jax’s Chief Engineer butt.

He grimaced. “Yeah, it might take a little longer than that.”

“I’m pleased we’ve run into each other again Miss Y/N. You left in such a hurry the last time.”

H.G. Wells was an attractive young man, in that particular Victorian way. The facial hair was different than what you were used to, but it was a very common thing on the streets of 1888 London. He was kind at least, funny and attentive.

At least, to you.

You weren’t blind (you didn’t think) and you could tell well enough that he was flirting with you, or had been the last time you’d talked.

“I’m sorry.” You said. “We had business to take care of.”

“Ah, yes. Your eclectic group of friends.” He held an arm out, gesturing toward a less crowded area of the parlor.

According to Gideon the Ripper would be moving on from low-risk targets like prostitutes to the sort of ladies that would be found in a society party like this one. You’d all either secured invitations or snuck into the event. You had only been a little surprised to find H.G. there and reasonably pleased.

He was cute, after all, and his attention was inoffensive. Plus, he provided someone to talk to while undercover wearing a stupid corset that wasn’t a complete stranger.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked.

“Yes, please.” You smiled pleasantly while H.G. went to get you both a drink.

The idea of a vampire Jack the Ripper set you on edge, having no idea what he looked like was terrifying, and when Nate walked up close behind you and began speaking you nearly had a heart attack.

“We’re supposed to be looking out for Jack the Ripper. Not flirting.” He said sharply.

You held your hand to your pounding heart then spun and smacked him in the chest. “Don’t. Do. That.” You hissed, emphasizing each word with a hit. “And I am.” You smacked his chest once more for good measure, though you were sure it was hurting you more than him.

“Oh really?” He said, unfazed by your hits. “Because it looks like you’ve been flirting with H.G. Wells who is not even supposed to be here and you could be causing all kinds of havoc in the timeline. You know he marries his cousin, right?”

You glared at Nate. No, you hadn’t known that and it wasn’t relevant right now and you were pretty sure if Sara could sleep with the Queen of France and the timeline remain intact then you could flirt with H.G. Wells.

Nate and you had always gotten along just fine. You’d been friends, close even. Maybe sometimes you had flirted with him, maybe sometimes you thought he had flirted back. Maybe you had some softer, mushy feelings for him. But right now Nate was acting like a child.

And the more it annoyed Nate the more you were inclined to keep doing it.

“Go away, Nate. If you’re going to be rude then go keep watch outside.”

You could see H.G. approaching with two drinks in hand and a smile on his face and you were quick to smile back.

A scream broke from the next room and H.G. was no longer your main concern.

“Do you mean to tell me that Stein is a vampire?”

“Well…”

Your groan was more akin to a yell in your frustration. Ray ducked his head apologetically, unhappy to be delivering the news to the crew.

“He’s not yet a vampire, I don’t think. But he got bit and I think that’s how this virus transmits. Not so much like the Buffy vampires where they swap blood back and forth.”

“So how long until Grey starts wanting to drain us?” Jax’s worry was palpable and you put a hand on his shoulder in your best effort to comfort him. He patted it, gave it a squeeze, but his mind was elsewhere.

Ray shrugged. “I can’t say. He would have known better.” He said.

“Gideon,” Sara called to the ship, “I need you to make sure that Stein stays in stasis. No matter what.”

“Yes, Captain Lance.” The AI replied.

You kicked at the ends of your stupid Victorian skirt, frustration filling every corner of you. Another woman had died, Stein had been bitten, a vampire had made fools of you all, and you were wearing a stupid corset that you were ready to set on fire.

When your eyes drifted up to Nate you found him glaring at you. Instinctively you glared back.

And Nate. He had not been helping your mood.

“Can I help you, Nathaniel?” You snapped.

Several pairs of eyes turned to look between the two of you.

“Actually, yeah.” He crossed his arms. “Let’s talk about how maybe if you weren’t so busy flirting with your new boyfriend Stein might not have gotten bit.”

Your jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

You vaguely registered the looks the crew shared, ranging from confused to intrigued. Mostly you saw red.

“Yeah, you were so busy protecting H.G. Wells that you forgot to take care of your team.”

Ray smacked Nate’s arm lightly, muttering his name in warning. Nate paid it no mind.

You were going to wring his neck. You didn’t care if he was made of steel or if he was a hell of a lot stronger than you, you were going to wring his stupid little neck.

“How. Dare. You.” Before he could open his mouth you continued. “I was under the impression that we were here to help people. To protect the timeline. Like say, I don’t know, making sure that influential author H.G. Wells doesn’t die before he writes all his important works?”

“Oh yeah, that’s what it was about. Not because you want to make googly eyes at him.”

“You are unbelievable.”

“I’m unbelievable? At least I know not to worry about making out with some mustachioed writer when there is a vampire on the loose.”

You took a sudden step forward, ready to throw down, and Sara blocked your path.

“Alright you two, I don’t know what’s going on but it stops now.” She said.

Mick shrugged. “Oh come on, I want to see her beat his ass.”

Sara pointed a warning finger at him, then pointed it at Nate. At least, you thought, she seemed to be on your side. “This blame game is getting us nowhere. Get your acts together.”

You winced as Ray dabbed antiseptic on your forehead.

“Sorry.” He smiled apologetically. He secured a bandage over the cut and gave your arm a squeeze. “How’s that feel?”

“As good as a head wound can?” You said, smiling at him. You were sore all over, but Amaya looked a good deal worse for wear than you so you couldn’t complain. Ray himself had only just escaped a bite.

Amaya huffed from across the room. “How do we keep getting outsmarted by a Victorian era psychopath?” She hopped off the bed and paced.

It was a good question. A frustrating one, but a good question. At least now you knew who to look for.

“Don’t bother asking Nate,” you said with a tone of bitterness, “he’ll just say it’s because I dared flirt with H.G.”

Amaya smiled sympathetically and Ray tucked his chin into his chest.

You knew you should have been far more focused on the fact that Stein was still in stasis and there was still a damn vampire running around and people were being hurt, but your mind was stubbornly fixated on one Nathaniel Heywood and his piss poor attitude. He had never acted this way before and it circled round and round your head. It hurt, if you were being honest with yourself.

“Maybe go easy on him.” Ray said as he packed the medical supplies away.

Amaya met your eyes from the other side of the room and shrugged.

“Go easy on him?” You asked in mild disbelief. “He’s the one being rude all the damn time. I haven’t done anything. Or do you think I’m flirting with H.G. Wells at the expense of the team too?”

“No. No. Of course not.” Ray was quick to shake his head and appease you. “It’s just, well, he’s being like this because he’s upset about something kind of unrelated and he’s taking it out on you.” At your raised eyebrow he rushed on. “Not that that’s okay or alright, but you should just try and talk to him and maybe he’ll apologize and you guys can move right past it.”

You weren’t surprised that Ray would go to bat for Nate and Ray’s natural loyalty almost made his words less impactful, but it was hard to say no to his earnest puppy dog face. Amaya smiled at you over his shoulder, looking a little like she was in on some private joke.

You narrowed your eyes at both of them for a moment. Then sighed. “Fine.” You said. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Astonishing.”

All three heads snapped toward the doorway. You cursed loudly.

There stood H.G. Wells, taking in the whole of the room with fascination.

You shared wide-eyed looks with Ray and Amaya, none of you moving from your spots. In your head you cursed again. Nate was going to blame you for this, you were sure of it.

“What sort of vessel is this?” H.G. asked, stepping closer to a cabinet on the wall and peeking in without touching.

That snapped you all out of it. “What are you doing here? How did you even get here. You should not be here.” You said in a rush, jumping off the bed and hurrying to him.

“Does it fly?” He asked, unworried by your questions. “It looks like it might. Is it a star ship?” He looked at you now with open curiosity. “Are you not from Earth?”

“We’re not aliens.” Ray said, moving around you both to look out the door. He checked both sides of the hall. “We have to get him out of here.”

“Agreed.” You took H.G.’s arm and tugged. “You can’t be here.”

He didn’t exactly put up a fight, but he wasn’t eager to move either. His movements were slow as you pulled him toward the door and out into the hall.

Amaya moved behind him to help encourage him in your direction. Still he took his time, eagerly taking in as much of the ship as he could.

“You being here could be very bad.” Ray said, peeking around a corner as you approached.

H.G. gasped softly. “If not space,” he began, “then, the future.”

You pulled harder.

“You are.” There was a level of wonder in his voice and he turned in your grasp to take hold of your hands.

You wanted to curse again. You were all so bad about keeping the time travelling thing a secret. “You have to go. You shouldn’t have been here to start with.” You insisted.

“Seriously!”

You jolted where you stood and groaned, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment. Of course he would catch you. It couldn’t be anyone else. Just had to be Nate.

“Nate.” Ray said with a tone of warning.

“No! Are you serious?” His tone had bordered on shrill before falling to just pissed. When you finally looked up you were met with a glare. “You brought H.G. Wells onto the Waverider? I thought you were being irresponsible, but this is just stupid!”

You didn’t appreciate being yelled at on the best of days and right now you could feel the blood boiling in your veins. Steel or no, you were going to kick his ass.

You opened your mouth to argue back, but H.G. beat you to the punch.

“Actually, I followed you and your bald friend.”

Never in your whole life had you felt so vindicated. The smile that spread on your face was the clearest “eat crow” in the history of mankind.

Nate sputtered, some of the bluster leaving him.

You weren’t satisfied. You wanted to have it out- shout at Nate, push him, have the big fight Sara had interrupted. And to think you had let Ray talk you into being reasonable.

As if sensing the buildup of righteous anger in you Ray stepped between you two. “Hey, not now.” He gestured to H.G. “We need to get him off the ship.”

Amaya put a hand on your shoulder. “Come on. We still have to find Jack the Ripper too.”

Against your pettier side you let her pull you away with H.G. in tow.

Your shoulder was still sore from where you’d been tossed against a brick wall and you nursed it with a grumble.

Ray, Jax, and Sara had returned to the Waverider with what they believed to be the cure for Stein, leaving you behind to clean up with Nate, Mick, and Amaya. Clean up mostly consisted of collecting Jack the Ripper’s fully “vamped” body and gathering anything else the time pirate may have left behind. And H.G.

He looked exhausted, sitting on the ground against the steps of a building. Still he looked over you and gestured to your arm. “Are you well?”

You nodded, gesturing casually with your other arm. “All in a day’s work.”

“Remarkable.” He said. He pushed himself off from the wall and closed the distance between you.

Briefly you saw him glance over your shoulder and turned to look. You caught Nate’s glare before he turned away to stomp over to where Amaya was helping Mick gather up the Ripper.

You hadn’t spoken since his little explosion on the Waverider. As much as you wanted to just have it out and figure out what his problem was, you were a reluctant to be the first to speak. He could come to you, you figured.

H.G. cleared his throat and you turned back to look at him, almost embarrassed at being caught staring at Nate’s back. You cleared your own throat in response. “Right. Now, you understand you can’t tell anyone about any of this, right?”

He gave a little chuckle. “And who would believe such a fantastical tale?”

“Good point.”

He was a handsome man when he smiled. He grasped both your arms lightly, careful of your stinging shoulder. “I will never forget you, though. Of that you can be certain.”

“Hard to forget all the crazy.” You joked.

“Hard to forget you.” He smiled once more and then kissed you. It was over before you’d really processed what was happening, punctuated by a loud thump behind you.

Rather than react to the kiss you turned to look for the noise. Mick was crouched over the Ripper’s body, grumbling angrily and glaring from time to time at Nate’s retreating back. Amaya sighed.

“When are you going to speak with him?”

On instinct you turned to glare at Amaya. You had every intention of enjoying your bowl of cereal and zero intention of going to speak with a certain dumb steel-plated historian. You pointedly took a bite from your spoon.

“Just go talk to him.” Amaya’s sighs always had an air of world weariness to them. They were very effective. ��This isn’t going to get better until you do.”

“I did nothing wrong.” You muttered.

“I didn’t say you did. But, you could be the bigger person and just go talk to him.” When you ate another spoonful she continued. “Aren’t you curious about what’s going on with him?”

You were. Of course you were.

You cared for Nate and he was being an ass and, frankly, it hurt. But, because it hurt, you weren’t exactly eager to have another go around with him.

“Please.” She insisted. “He’s in the library. He’s alone. Go talk to him. Get it over with.”

With an unhappy huff you pushed your half finished bowl away and stood. “Fine. I’m going. You happy?” You didn’t wait for her response.

You stomped and grumbled to yourself the whole short trip to the library. If he continued to be a jerk you were going to throw books at him.

His back was turned to you when you entered and you took a moment to glare at it. He looked tense. You knew him, you could see he was upset. Well, so were you. And it was his fault.

For a second you hovered in the entrance and debated just turning around and leaving. Instead you cleared your throat and relished a little at his startled jump. When he turned to face you there was a moment where his face seemed to cycle through several emotions before settling on the sourpuss look he’d been wearing the past few days.

He said nothing.

“Do you want to explain what the hell your deal has been?” So maybe you weren’t feeling up to being super polite.

He scoffed and stormed over to the table at the center. Still he said nothing.

“Really? Now you decide to be silent? Because you’ve had zero problem going on and on. Y/N this. Y/N that. ‘Y/N, look at all the ways you’re failing the team even when you’ve done absolutely nothing wrong’.” You mocked.

“Just let it go.”

You almost missed it, he spoke so quietly. Another time you might have done just that when you saw the way his shoulders drooped. Not today.

“Let it go? Let it go? I don’t think so, Elsa. You have been an ass, rude as hell, over and over again for days. And I did nothing wrong and I don’t deserve it.” You could feel yourself getting more worked up with each word. “So now you’re going to explain to me exactly what the hell your problem with me is because if not, we’re going to fight. Right here. Right now.”

He ignored you, staring hard at an open book in front of him.

Your temper kept rising. You stormed over to the table and slammed the book shut. He grit his teeth, but didn’t look up.

“And while you’re at it,” you said, “you can explain what your beef with H.G. is as well.”

That did it. He shot up straight, towering over you now. “Oh yeah. Perfect H.G. Wells with his perfect mustache and perfect stupid vest.”

“Seriously!? What the hell did he ever do to you? He was nothing but nice.”

“So nice. The nicest. That’s what it was. It’s not like he was just flirting with you.” He’d started matching your volume, the both of you shouting now, chest puffing out with the same outrage you were feeling.

“So what?” You threw your hands up. Unbelievable.

He plowed on. “And you just lapped it up. Just kept flirting right back.”

“What the hell do you care if he flirted? If I flirted?”

“Because I like you!”

It felt a little like the air had been knocked out of you and your expression must have shown it. Your eyes were wide, jaw slack, looking dumb at the revelation.

Nate looked terrified.

There was a solid minute of silence and stillness.

“What?” You finally managed.

He said nothing, only sighed. You could practically see the tension roll off his body.

“What?” You repeated. “You like me? Like, in a romantic way?”

Though he still hadn’t said anything the little shrug, resigned and heavy, said enough.

Your eyes ran over him- the tired slump of his shoulders and worried knit in his brow, his dumb handsome face.

“You’re an idiot.”

He was taller than you, but with a tug on his shirt you brought him down to your level and pressed your lips against his. You thought you felt him start, just a little jump, but you were otherwise preoccupied.

You pulled back just a moment later to get a good look at him.

He was hunched over, your hand still gripping his shirt, eyes closed, hands out as if to hold you. He blinked his eyes opened.

“I’m an idiot.” He confirmed.

Before you could nod he’d pulled you back. A hand went to your waist, the other cupped the base of your neck, and he pulled you flush against him as his lips moved over yours. You didn’t know how long you stayed like that.

“Finally!” Mick’s booming voice caused you both to jump and pull apart. “It’s about damn time.”

#nate heywood x reader #nate heywood imagine #nate heywood #legends of tomorrow #steel x reader #nathaniel heywood x reader

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