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coineagle · 8 months ago

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Alchemy Pay (ACH) Price Prediction 2025, 2026, 2027, 2028, 2029 and 2030

In this article, we aim to provide you with a detailed price prediction for Alchemy Pay (ACH) from the years 2025 to 2030.

Our primary objective is to offer you an insight into the potential future value of ACH based on an in-depth analysis of key technical indicators.

We will also delve into the comprehensive market dynamics surrounding Alchemy Pay, taking into account factors such as market trends, investor sentiment, and broader economic influences.

Alchemy Pay (ACH) Long-Term Price Prediction

Year Lowest Price Average Price Highest Price 2025 $0.20 $0.25 $0.35 2026 $0.30 $0.40 $0.50 2027 $0.25 $0.30 $0.40 2028 $0.20 $0.25 $0.35 2029 $0.40 $0.50 $0.70 2030 $0.70 $0.80 $1.00

Alchemy Pay Price Prediction 2025

In 2025, we predict a steady price increase with the average at around $0.25, escalating to a peak of about $0.35.

This growth phase will be fueled by the generally favorable regulatory environment, significant growth in the technology sector, and easing inflation rates.

Alchemy Pay Price Prediction 2026

Despite a slight dip in 2027, Alchemy Pay will likely continue to rise in price, averaging $0.40 and reaching a high of $0.50.

The growth is expected to ride on the wave of overall adoption of cryptocurrencies boosted by Ethereum ETFs.

Alchemy Pay Price Prediction 2027

With a softening market and correction phase, prices may slightly dip in 2027, with the average predicted to be around $0.30 and a high of $0.40.

Even with the correction, Alchemy continues to be a project with strong utility and potential.

Alchemy Pay Price Prediction 2028

Continuing the correction phase into 2028, a further price reduction can be expected with average prices at around $0.25 and the highest at $0.35.

Despite this correction phase, long-term investors can remain optimistic for a return to growth.

Alchemy Pay Price Prediction 2029

A return to growth is expected in 2029, with prices recovering to an average of $0.50 and potentially reaching up to $0.70. This growth can be attributed to accelerated adoption and utility of Alchemy Pay, as well as market-wide recovery.

Alchemy Pay Price Prediction 2030

In a more matured market by 2030, Alchemy Pay is predicted to reach its highest price levels yet, with averages around $0.80 and potential highs of $1.00. This optimistic scenario is attributed to continued favorable regulations and extensive adoption of the cryptocurrency.

Alchemy Pay (ACH) Fundamental Analysis

Project Name Alchemy Pay Symbol ACH Current Price $ 0.016993 Price Change (24h) -8.67% Market Cap $ 135.5 M Volume (24h) $ 22,165,886 Current Supply 7,971,764,775

Alchemy Pay (ACH) is currently trading at $ 0.016993 and has a market capitalization of $ 135.5 M.

Over the last 24 hours, the price of Alchemy Pay has changed by -8.67%, positioning it 254 in the ranking among all cryptocurrencies with a daily volume of $ 22,165,886.

Technological Innovations of Alchemy Pay

Alchemy Pay is known for innovating unique blockchain payment solutions, addressing the critical necessity for seamless integration between cryptocurrencies and traditional finance.

1. Flexible Cross-platform Payment Solution: Alchemy offers a crypto-fiat gateway, which allows merchants to accept cryptocurrency as a payment method and converts it into local currency in real-time. This helps to eliminate volatility risk, driving broader adoption of cryptocurrencies in everyday transactions.

2. Multi-chain Interoperability: The platform supports multi-chain interoperability, catering to a wide range of cryptocurrencies, including Bitcoin, Ethereum etc., which adds to the flexibility of the system.

3. Smart-Contract Powered Payments: Users can establish automatic payments, triggered by predefined conditions, adding another layer of innovation to this decentralized payment ecosystem.

Strategic Partnerships

Alchemy Pay’s partnerships have been instrumental in expanding its reach and encouraging wider adoption of its payment solution. Key collaborations include:

1. Shopify: Integration with Shopify enables merchants to accept payments in cryptocurrency, exposing Alchemy to more than one million businesses around the world.

2. QFPay: The partnership with Asia’s leading digital payment solution, QFPay, extended Alchemy’s outreach to over 1.2 million affiliated merchants spanning across Asia.

Strategies to Sustain Competitive Advantage

To maintain its edge in the rapidly evolving crypto landscape, Alchemy employs several strategies:

1. Continual Technological Innovation: Alchemy constantly updates its platform with the latest technological advancements to stay ahead in the competition.

2. Adapting to Regulatory Changes: Alchemy Pay operates in compliance with the local regulatory environment in various countries, positioning itself as a trustworthy and reliable crypto payment solution provider.

3. Achieving Scale through Partnerships: Strategic collaborations with industry leaders underpin Alchemy’s plan to widely expand its user base.

Community Engagement

Community engagement is a significant aspect of Alchemy Pay’s growth plan.

1. Active Community: The Alchemy community is most noticeable on platforms like Twitter, Reddit, and Telegram, which are regularly updated with project news and developments.

2. Fostering Growth: Alchemy leverages these platforms to interact with its user base, gather feedback, and disseminate information about upcoming features and partnerships, thereby fostering community growth and engagement.

The integration of these strategies contributes significantly to Alchemy Pay’s positioning, adoption, and overall success in the global cryptocurrency marketplace. Their emphasis on technological innovation, strategic partnerships, and robust community engagement channels enhance their ecosystem and brand, gearing them for promising future growth and innovation.

Alchemy Pay (ACH) Technical Analysis

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Type

Line Chart

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Technical Analysis is a methodological approach to forecast the price of a financial asset by studying historical market data, primarily price and volume.

When predicting Alchemy Pay’s price, Technical Analysis is crucial as it aids investors and traders in making informed decisions based on the patterns and trends gleaned from past market data.

Moving Average (MA): This is an average of the price for a certain number of days and is usually used to identify price trends. It smoothens out price fluctuations and helps to highlight the underlying price trend.

Relative Strength Index (RSI): This is a momentum oscillator that measures the speed and change of price movements. It is usually used as a signal for overbought and oversold conditions.

Bollinger Bands: These are used to measure the price volatility. If the price is moving near the upper band, it could signal that the asset is overbought, while a price nearing the lower band might signal overselling.

Alchemy Pay Price Predictions FAQs

What is Alchemy Pay?

Alchemy Pay is a pioneer in the world of cryptocurrency payments. It aims to bridge the gap between cryptocurrencies and traditional financial systems by providing a cryptocurrency and fiat payment gateway for businesses and consumers worldwide.

Is Alchemy Pay a good investment?

Investing in Alchemy Pay could be profitable based on its potential to revolutionize crypto payments.

However, like any other investment, it carries risks and should be considered in the context of a well-diversified portfolio, factors like financial goals, risk appetite, and market conditions.

What can affect Alchemy Pay’s price?

The price of Alchemy Pay can be affected by a number of factors including market volatility, regulatory news, technological developments, competitors, overall market trends, and investor sentiment towards cryptocurrencies.

Where can I buy Alchemy Pay?

Alchemy Pay (ACH) can be purchased on various cryptocurrency exchanges that include Binance, Huobi, Coinbase Exchange, and many others. Prior to purchasing, it is important to do your own research and choose a reputable exchange.

What is CoinEagle.com?

CoinEagle.com is an independent crypto media platform and your official source of crypto knowledge. Our motto, “soaring above traditional finance,” encapsulates our mission to promote the adoption of crypto assets and blockchain technology.

Symbolized by the eagle in our brand, CoinEagle.com represents vision, strength, and the ability to rise above challenges. Just as an eagle soars high and has a keen eye on the landscape below, we provide a broad and insightful perspective on the crypto world.

We strive to elevate the conversation around cryptocurrency, offering a comprehensive view that goes beyond the headlines.

Recognized not only as one of the best crypto news websites in the world, but also as a community that creates tools and strategies to help you master digital finance, CoinEagle.com is committed to providing you with the necessary knowledge to win in crypto.

Disclaimer: The Alchemy Pay price predictions in this article are speculative and intended solely for informational purposes. They do not constitute financial advice. Cryptocurrency markets are highly volatile and can be unpredictable. Investors should perform their own research and consult with a financial advisor before making any investment decisions. CoinEagle.com and its authors are not responsible for any financial losses that may result from following the information provided.

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galacticgraffiti · 8 months ago

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If You Want to Give Me Anything (Then Give In)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x John 'Soap' MacTavish

Rating: Mature Wordcount: 1.8k Summary: Ghoap are gay. They are soldiers. They yearn and flirt and it's not really anything. Is it? (Soap POV) CW: Mentions of (past) homophobia towards Soap, blood, canon-typical violence, Ghost gets hurt bad, yearning, awful flirting (I promise all ends well) A/N: Found the dividers here. huuuuuge shoutout to @patchmates for being my wonderful wonderful beta and affirming me that i do have some grasp on these two fuckers. mwah mwah!

♦ My Masterlist • If you prefer AO3 ♦

Part I

It’s been going on for weeks. Months, even. It’s never really anything – stupid banter, dumb jokes between mates. Flirting the way men in the military flirt with each other. It’s normal. It’s not anything, no more than bonding and the lack of opportunities to get laid. It’s the way they communicate. Soap knows this, has done this, has been doing this for years.

It’s never anything.

The most it usually led to was teasing remarks from his mates – I’ll start to think ya mean it, Tav, if ya keep goin’ like that. The worst it has led to was hatred and fear, it was slurs smeared on his door and shit in his bed. Shoves and elbows in the locker room that bruised, a cracked rib and no one to help him. Dirty looks, always in places the higher-ups won’t see. Not that they would have done anything about it.

It’s been years since Soap has let it escalate like that, though, he’s learned from his experiences. Doesn’t try anything with military men, not anymore, because it’s never been safe, and he’s been sold out for a laugh one too many times to risk it.

Instead, every once in a while, he finds himself a nice bloke to fuck when he’s on leave, always a one-and-done deal, never more, never longer. He doesn’t want anybody crying for him when he doesn’t make it back.

Soap doesn’t think too hard on the fact that he hasn’t found anyone in months. Hasn’t had the desire to. Hasn’t gone out to meet anbody, hasn’t even kissed another person… Not since he joined the 141. Not since-

It’s never anything.

“Johnny,” the hushed whisper in his ear rips him from his musings. Soap scoffs to himself. Fuckin’ perfect timing this one has, always. Like he fucking knows when Soap is-

Christ, shut up. Shut up.

His own mic crackles to life when Soap clears his throat.

“Aye, what’s the matter then, LT?”

“You gonna move your arse some time today? Gonna start to think you’re squattin’ just to give me somethin’ nice to look at, eh?”

(It’s never anything.)

“Fuck off, LT, I was readin’!” Soap defends himself. With a guilty pang, he waves the stack of papers he has gathered in the air as if to prove it. He knows Ghost can see him, knows the building has been cleared, which is why Soap allowed himself to get so fucking distracted in the first place.

Stupid, MacTavish. So fucking stupid. One of these days it’ll get ye fuckin’ killed.

“Slow reader, are ya? Always took ya for faster than that.”

“Och, away an’- brain goes too fast, cannae keep the words straight,” Soap mumbles, more to himself. He doesn’t owe Ghost a fucking explanation, the wanker. Certainly won’t explain that he was actually distracted by the thought of what it might feel like to roll up that mask, kiss the scars that hide under there, kiss the-

“Straight, huh? Unlike-”

A gurgling scream cuts Ghost off mid-word. All of a sudden it’s so fucking quiet on the other end.

Soap bites his tongue so hard he tastes blood. Surely this is just Ghost fucking with him (he has never done this before, would be against regulations). Surely, this is just Ghost dicking around; his voice will crackle to life in Soap’s ear again, rough and beautiful like always and Soap will call him a bastard and Ghost will call him a wanker, and Soap will make a joke about wanking and-

(It’s never anything.)

A few seconds pass. The line stays quiet.

“Ghost?” Soap isn’t panicking. He is too good for that. But he is worried, can hear it in his own voice, can feel his heartbeat thunder in his ears. “LT, request ye check in.”

Nothing. Silence on Ghost’s end, deadly and dripping in violence.

“Fuck. Fuck,” Soap whispers to himself.

Decides to just take the stack of papers, shoves them all in his pack. He can sort through them later. The others are too far away, it was supposed to be just him and Ghost, and Ghost wasn’t even supposed to get involved. A silent takedown, this was meant to be, a quick slitting of throats, one guard killed by Ghost’s fatal trigger finger and two more when Soap snapped their necks. Nobody was ever supposed to know they were here. Nobody did know.

“LT, how copy?” he repeats, just to make sure.

There is nothing, then-

A crackle, a groan, the huff of someone whose air is getting pressed out their lungs, then shrill feedback that nearly blows Soap’s eardrums out and then – silence again. Cursed fucking silence, which means nothing good, nothing fucking good has ever come of silence.

Soap’s blood roars.

Fuck. FUCK!

Soap books it. He’s out the door in seconds, out the buildings within the minute, sprinting full speed to where he knows Ghost’s vantage point was.

Can’t be too late, can’t be too late, he’s never been too late, Ghost is good, he’s so fucking good at what he does, he’s fine, he has to be-

All Soap hears is the cracking of dry wood beneath his soles as he slows down, approaching the nest Ghost had built to keep Johnny safe from afar. Not a single sound in the air, not a fucking bird singing.

“LT,” Soap hisses through his teeth. “LT, ye hear me?”

A quiet groan rips through the silence, there is the barely audible stir of metal against metal, and then-

“Johnny?”

“Fuck!”

Around the tree, just steps away from Soap, Ghost is propped up, a man curled over him in a weird position, leaking red from a smile that’s too low to be his mouth. Ghost’s one hand is curled in the man’s hair, fist so tight it must be white underneath the dark fabric of his glove.

His other hand holds the knife, dripping blood, fingers curled loosely around the hilt. The moment Ghost’s dark eyes meet Soap’s, the knife clatters to the ground.

Johnny is by his side in no time at all, is cradling his head in his own bloodied hands, is staring at him, trying to gauge how bad it is.

“He get ye, LT?”

Ghost just groans in response, shoves the dead body off his lap as he nods in sluggish motions.

“Fucker came from the back, had a knife in my fuckin’ side before I knew what was what- cut my fuckin’ mic off-”

Soap’s fingers search frantically for the wound, find it, press down on it, down on the hot blood like he could keep it inside if he tried hard enough.

“Yer so fuckin’ pale I couldnae tell if ye were bleedin’ oot, LT,” he jokes weakly.

“Be fine, Sergeant.” Ghost stares at him with intent eyes, something in there Soap can’t quite place. “Be alright. You’re here now, aren’t ya?”

Soap nods, still pressing down on the wound.

“I go’ ye, Ghost. I’ve got ye now. Even have what we came for,’s all right here.”

“Well done, sweet’eart.” Ghost’s eyes are slipping shut as he says it, and Soap’s heart skips a beat – skips two beats, only to make up for it after. Blood soaks Soap’s hands but all he can hear is Ghost’s gritty voice. Sweet’eart.

It’s never anything.

But Soap is weak, he’s so fucking weak for this man, and words push their way past his lips before he can hold them back, bottle them up like he has done for months, like he does every time Ghost opens his damn mouth, and now he’s bleeding and-

“Don’t- fuckin’ say tha’ if ye don’t mean it, LT,” Johnny chokes out, his voice rough.

“Mmm.”

The sound Ghost makes is barely a sound at all. His eyes don’t open when Soap taps his cheek, and suddenly, Soap’s heart is racing for a different reason entirely.

“Oy- OY! Stay with me now, LT, come on- come on, I’ll call for help, we’ll fix ye right up, won’t we- Ghost- Simon!” Soap is definitely not panicking. He’s too good for that. His fingers are not shaking when he calls it in, his voice does not break when he hears Price confirm they are just two minutes out. Soap’s eyes are dry as he keeps talking to Ghost – talking to Simon –, as he patches up the wound as best he can, and keeps talking and talking and talking.

“Come on, doll. Come on, ye cannae die on me now, I fuckin’ refuse tae let ye. Ye will die when I fuckin’ say so an’ no’ a day before tha’, do ye hear me, Simon? Ye do nae get tae call me sweetheart an’ then just pass tae fuck oot so ye don’ have tae talk aboot it, who do ye think ye are, ye absolute rocket-”

Brown eyes blink awake, just for a moment, to stare at Soap from far away, clouded and tired with pain.

“You’re no better, Sergeant, are you? You and those fuckin’...” Ghost drifts off, mumbles something incoherent. Soap slaps his cheek, and Simon’s eyes slowly open again. “Mm, those… those bloody… fuck-me eyes ya make at me...”

What?

Soap’s hand comes down again, harder and harder, slaps Simon awake again when his eyes – his beautiful eyes, framed by the whitest lashes Johnny has ever seen – threaten to close again.

“The fuck are ye on aboot, Ghost? Think all tha’ blood loss is gettin’ to ye, aye? Come on, hold on fer me just a little while longer, the Captain will be right there and we’ll get ye oot, come now, love-”

“Love.” Johnny can hear Simon smile through the mask, can see the crinkles of his skin and the corners of his eyes lift. “Gotta die for you to call me that, Johnny?”

“I’ll call ye tha’ whenever ye fuckin’ like if ye stay alive fer me, love.” Soap is not panicking. It’ll all be fine. Surely it will all be fine, God would not be so cruel-

“MacTavish!”

Price’s hand on his shoulder, just as Ghost sags down again, eyes fluttering closed. Impossibly white lashes against the stark, dead black of his greasepaint, covering the freckles Soap knows he hides there. Soap stares at him, presses the hands that cradled his face to Simon’s neck now, can feel a pulse, just barely.

Price is shaking him by the shoulder, impatient, worried.

“Come, Sergeant. Exfil point five minutes out, gotta carry this heavy fucker there somehow.”

“I’ll take him,” Soap says numbly, bats Price’s hand away when he offers to help him up. “Come on, Cap, I said I’ll fuckin’ take him.”

God fuck, Ghost is so heavy. Don’t call him dead weight, just don’t, he’s not- he can’t- he won’t be- he’ll be fine, just fine.

They make it. Just barely, just so, but they make it.

➤ Part II

taggies for some beloveds and moots (lmk if this is not ur thing/u don't want to be tagged!) Likewise, if you're not tagged but would like to be pls shoot me a DM.

@ulchabhangorm @purgetrooperfox @baba-fett @pinkiemme @amikoroyaiart @witchklng @lee-kestrelrain @thotmachinebroke

#ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghost x soap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x john soap mactavish #call of duty #cod #wailing and crying about these dumb gay fucks i love them so much

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elephart-hi · 4 years ago

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The Mortal Maiden: Witch!Jude

Chapter 2: A Secret Sealed with a Kiss

set during The Cruel Prince.

(another sneek peek at my wip for this fic)

summary: Oh, he was making a show of himself for her she realized noting the way the light caught on the definition of his stomach. He wanted her to look at him. His lidded eyes seemed to say ‘aren’t I lovely’ and damn it if he wasn’t.

Rating: Mature but not explicitly till later chapters!

AN: I contemplated having this chapter be Cardan reading harry potter and Jude just spoiling the whole series and telling him everyone who dies just to spite him.... sighhhhh i had to make the hard decision and actually write the plot

also no beta for this chapter tee hee

Ao3 Chapter 1 you are at chapter 2 chapter 3

Cardan blinked at the vision before him. Once, twice. Then glanced at the goblet in his hand with a perplexed look on his face. He wasn't sure if he had accidentally poured himself the bottle he had mixed with his hallucinogenic powders. There was no way Jude Duerte would be standing in his room mid-day. She would be asleep in her chambers at the general’s stronghold.

He looked back at the vision in front of him and rubbed his eyes. Then he heard a scoff and saw her sneer at him with fathomless hate burning in her amber eyes. Now that seemed very real. He glanced at her hands and saw that the ring finger of her left hand was missing a digit. He started.

“You’re being rude.”

Cardan wiped his head in the direction of the door as he heard Darnal, the knocker laugh at her from the other side. Her nose crinkled and her brows pinched at the sound. She was cute when she was angry. And she was also definitely in his bedroom. Cardan tried to not let his mind wander to the many inappropriate fantasies he has had of this very scene but he was on his fourth bottle of wine and he was having a hard time reeling it in. He looked her up and down slowly, hoping it would make her mad enough to distract her while he grabbed his damned tail. He needed to get it under control before it made a fool of him.

“Aren’t you going to say something”

“I supposed I should, shouldn’t I?” he didn’t know what to say. He had no idea what she was doing here. He felt a smirk tug at his lips as his nerves continued to spiral out of control. His hand reached behind his back and grappled for his tail “Why are you in my room?”

“Why does your door know my name?” she gritted back, her lips curled into a snarl. She was clearly very annoyed, for what reason Cardan didn’t know. She was the one in his room after all… in the middle of the day no less. Shouldn’t he be the annoyed one? There she was barging in on him when he could have been sleeping for all she knew.

“Care for a glass of wine Jude?” he asked ignoring her question. He stood from his bed and poured more into his goblet; his tail secured within his pants. He had a feeling that he didn’t want to be sober for this conversation, although he had already become a distant stranger to sobriety since classes let out hours before, “You seem wound up, perhaps a drink will help you pull the stick out of your ass. Or, if this isn’t a friendly visit, I could call the guards for you. Though I’m afraid you will find them far less hospitable.”

He has a glass filled for her by the time he finishes talking. She looks more pissed than before, her amber eyes seemed to crackle like embers. She doesn't move to grab the glass from him so he tries a different approach.

“You’re the one who came to my room, Jude, claiming you didn’t want to interrupt me and that you could come back another time. Well let me assure you, you haven’t interrupted anything important, the book will still be there tomorrow to intrigue me, but you are only here right this moment. And I wouldn't want to inconvenience you with having to sneak back in again. So… what can I do for you?”

They seem to be having a staring contest because Jude’s gaze continues to bore into his own. She grinds her teeth refusing to reply, neither one of them willing to break first. She was impossibly cute with her face scrunched up in anger like that. His arm begins to tire from holding a glass out to her for so long. He heaves a sigh and starts lowering his arm when she speaks at last.

“Tell me why your door knows my name. That’s what I’ve come calling about.”

Cardan sighed heavily, his head falling back, annoyance prickling but altogether muddled by the wine. Muddled along with every other emotion he liked to drown in the drink. He takes another long swig from his own goblet, which escalates to him guzzling it down to the dregs. He sighs when he finishes and sets the empty cup on his tray of food. Then he finally goes to address her once more, the alcohol giving him the patience he needs,

“Oh my nightmare nemesis,” his words slurred a bit. He swayed briefly, then collected himself before continuing. “For you to have heard my door use your name, you would’ve had to already be at Hollow Hall, since he is bound to this manor. Yes? So tell me again, without any lies from your mortal tongue, what you brought you to my residence--”

He is interrupted by the ruckus made by the guards outside.

“Any sign of the thief?”

“No! She couldn’t have gotten far!”

Cardan snapped his gaze back to Jude, her face suspiciously neutral. Cardan called out to his door, tilting his head in its direction but keeping his eyes locked on her.

“Darnallll,” the knocker appeared on his door, silently waiting for a command, “find out what the appearance of the thief was from the guards, will you.”

“No need sire, I can tell you right away. The thief was a fairy of short stature, with horns, and yellow eyes. The woman had hair, not unlike your guest here, and was wearing a gown of the same color,” the knocker’s eyes glanced toward Jude, who kept her face decidedly cool. Cardan knows Jude is crafty, she may not be a fairy but she matched the description minus the horns, eyes, and ears. There was a possibility.

Jude pushed her hair behind her ears showing off the round curve of them while opening her eyes comically wide.

“All clear here, though I do envy their horns. It seems like I’m not the only one who snuck into the Manor today,” she nodded towards the door, “some guard he is.”

Darnal laughed at that, mischief glinting on his brass features, and said, “I found her lurking in a stairwell listening against the door trying to see if there was anyone on the other side. She said she was looking for trouble---”

“You asked if I was looking for trouble,” Jude interrupted, her brows pinched together, “I decided to amuse you, Darnallll, so said I was. I wanted to see where it would lead me.”

She had drawled the door’s name out and turned up her chin. That pride of her unwavering. She turned back to Cardan to finish telling him how it happened, “So he led me to your room telling me I could find trouble here… So there, now you know how I met your door and why I’m in your room.”

She came over to him and at last, grabbed the wine from his hand and raised it to him, “To trouble and friendly, although unexpected, visits,” she finished her small toast and took a deep drink.

“But it doesn't explain why you were already in the manor nor how you already knew that this was Cardan’s chamber,” the doorknocker added.

“I seem to recall you saying this would be the fun, kind of trouble, I would hardly call an interrogation fun,” Jude bit back at the door.

“And yet when you announced yourself you immediately began interrogating my prince.”

Cardan watched the two bicker as he poured himself yet another glass. He brought his free hand up and rubbed his temple feeling a headache coming on.

“Enough!” the glamour rippled in waves from his throat, amplified by the amount of fairy wine in his system. It hadn’t taken long for him to discover that fairy wine (and fruit) amplified the strength of his glamour, not with the copious amounts that he consumed each day.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Jude and the door stopped bickering at the sound of his glamour. His voice was low and rumbly, it radiated with power. Jude’s heart was racing in her chest. She knew she was doomed. She didn’t see any way to get out of this. Her knees felt weak. Cardan was going to turn her in. Then, he and Balekin would have a field day torturing her together as they tried to carve secrets from her flesh that they would never get. They would keep on carving her up, waiting for her to cave but the geas would render her unable to, even when the pain would make her desperate. Jude drank deeply from the wine he gave her, finishing the glass. If she was to be tortured then she would at least have the wine to dull the pain. She hummed as she felt her head start to swim and laughed to herself; at least she would appear to be able to withstand torture. Oh, trouble indeed.

She held her glass out to him for more wine. His eyebrow quirked at her but he complied instructing her to say when. She had him fill it to the brim.

“Well Jude, how did you know that these were my chambers?” Cardan asked her as she took another drink, his own words still slurring.

Jude laughed the wine making her lightheaded. She turned to look at the annoying door that doomed her and answered truthfully.

“Alice in Wonderland,” she said with her most annoying smile. If she was going to die anyway she might as well piss Cardan off one last time. Her last joy before she went to join her parents.

“I borrowed it from you, hope you don’t mind. It was one of the books my mother read to my sisters and me before we were whisked away to a wonderland of our own. However, Elfhame brings more terror than wonder truthfully,” the alcohol gave her loose lips but her head was light and she didn’t care. Perhaps this is why Cardan drank so much, she did feel quite relaxed. She spared him a glance and laughed.

Cardan had the most peculiar look on his face his mouth hung open and he had one finger poised in the air as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know what to say. Jude decided she wouldn't give him a chance to.

“Darnal, you quite remind me of the talking door from the book. Although I find you more infuriating, perhaps it’s because you are trying to get me killed. I would like it if you were to stop that, I would very much hate to die.”

The door laughed at her words then spoke to Cardan, “looks like the wine did pull the stick out of her ass after all.”

“Oh hush you, don’t make me come over there,” to that the door magicked its face to another door in Cardan’s chambers and waggled his eyes at her as if to say come get me. Jude laughed again, it was such a nice thing to do. She turned to Cardan who still looked bewildered.

“Are you alright you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Are ghosts even real?” she rambled to him, a smile on her face. She would enjoy confusing him before he killed her. Her head was spinning from the wine, she took another sip as she waited for his response.

“I was wondering where that went,” his words came out quiet.

Jude scrunched her brows wondering what he meant and then realized he was talking about the book.

“Oh yes! Oak rather likes it,” she takes another sip, “So now you know why I knew it was your room... now you must tell me why your door knows my name. Also, there was a piece of paper with my name scribbled on it over and over again stuffed in the book. I don’t like you much either but my word! I’ve never furiously written out your name till I ripped the paper. That’s a bit much don’t ya think,” she hiccuped out the last word as Cardan’s face turned pink with rage.

“I think you’ve found more than enough trouble tonight, mortal, perhaps you shoul--”

Darnel starts laughing up a storm interrupting Cardan. Cardan turns and grabs the bottle of wine, drinking from the spout.

“Oh I don’t think she found nearly enough trouble,” Darnel said as Cardan guzzled the contents down, “Lady Jude, my prince sighs out your name day after day and scribbles it on parchment in an attempt to rid you of his mind--” Cardan spits the drink out choking on it, the wine ruining his shirt even more.

“Why you!” Cardan snarls out, anger showing on his face; Darnel pays him no mind and plows on.

“It’s why I referred to you as his maiden as well!” the door is laughing as he talks, “I wonder if he fanci----”

“I command you to leave at once!” Cardan’s glamour radiates the room. Immediately Darnel the door knocker vanishes from the room leaving them in silence. All Jude can do is stare as she watches his chest heave up and down.

Then she starts to laugh. Really truly laugh. A bellyaching, body-shaking laugh. She can't help herself. The idea is absolutely ridiculous and the wine makes it that much more fun. Jude bends over holding her stomach as she lets loose a snort. A SNORT! She forgot she even did that when she laughed hard. She hasn’t laughed like this since she was in the mortal world. It was when her dad had snorted up cheese at a Mexican restaurant; a comedian told a particularly funny joke. It had all been so funny that Jude laughed herself silly, till her abs were sore---

The memory sobered her up quickly as her laughs turned to little sobs and then… nothing. Armor locking around her heart once more. She coldly patted away the tears on her face and looked to Cardan who seem miserable and mildly concerned. He was leaning against his bed shifting on his feet, looking anywhere in the room but her. Perhaps his face went pink from embarrassment earlier rather than anger. Perhaps he does fancy her after all. A scheme took form in Jude’s mind.

“I suppose it makes sense… You had your goons strip me to my underwear and ask me who I wanted to kiss the most. Then you ordered me to tell you how much I admired you while I kissed your feet,” Jude referenced the incident with the fairy fruit. His head snapped to her at once.

“I did not tell Valerian to drug you, nor did I tell Niccassia to strip you! They did that of their own volition,” he urged her, eyes flashing with anger at her accusation.

“But you did ask me to kiss your feet and tell you how much I admired you.”

He averted his eyes again, ears drooping and cheeks flushed as he refused to meet her gaze. At least he had the decency to look ashamed.

“I have a deal for you Cardan,” he looked up at her, “I’ll give you a kiss if you promise to never tell anyone that you saw me tonight.”

“Only if you swear to tell no one of the note with your name on it or of anything you heard or saw in this room,” his response had a bite to it, he was angry. Jude supposed it was easier to be angry than embarrassed.

“Then we can both swear to secrecy instead. Forego the kiss altogether,” Jude countered, she put a bite into her own words. She saw something flash across his face that was gone an instant later. Disappointment?

“Aww unless you still want a kiss poor princeling,” she mocked him, the fading alcohol making her bold. He deserved it. ‘Boys are mean to girls they like’ was a stupid saying from the mortal world, if he liked her he should have been kind to her. She would mock him for this until they struck their bargain of secrecy. She would hold this over him. She would shame him for it.

“I didn’t say anything Jude, you’re the one who sounds like you want a kiss now, offering me not once but twice,” his infuriating smirk returned to his lips. She couldn’t stand him.

“Don’t be ridiculous! You are the one who fancies me, Cardan,” she seethed.

“Did you ever consider that I want to revenge Locke?” Cardan sneered, “the door was the one who implied I fancied you. I said no such thing.”

That did make more sense to Jude. Locke had stolen Cardan’s lover and now he wants to do the same to Locke.

“Then what good would swearing to secrecy do. He will never know that you revenged him.”

“I will. I would know of the revenge and you would know of it, and that’s fine by me. He isn’t worth the effort of rubbing it in his face. He can go about thinking he has bested me. I will know that he hasn’t and that he is the one who looks a fool.”

Cardan moved from his spot as he spoke and pulled his wine ruined sleep shirt from his body. He moved to a basin in the corner of the room and dipped a rag into the water, wiping the wine that still stuck to his body. His scars were in clear view of her from where she stood. She couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips.

“Once we strike our bargain it won’t matter that you’ve seen them,” he said in reference to his scars, “don’t bother asking.”

Jude didn’t know what to say, the memories of her last mission haunting her. She wondered what he would do if he knew she already knows how he got them. She went to sip her wine but her glass was already empty. She moved to the bed and placed her glass on his tray. When she turned around, she found Cardan an arm’s length away from her, using a new cloth to pat dry his chest. He didn’t look at her as he sat on the bed. He wasn't muscular persay, fairies don’t put on muscles the way mortals do. Even Madoc looked small next to a mortal bodybuilder. Cardan was skinny like all fairies were, but he had muscle Jude thought, eyeing the v-shape that trailed beneath his pants.

“You’re staring.”

Jude felt her face warm and she took a few steps back from the bed, putting space between them. She leered at him.

“Balekin makes me run drills with his guard since I’m so pitiful with a sword. Says I need to at least stay in shape. I hated it at first but then I started gaining even more attention from lovers, so I tolerate it now,” there was a grin pulling at his lips. Oh, he thought she was admiring him, that wouldn’t do.

“I was actually thinking of how you would look like a twig next to a mortal man, even I have more muscle than you do,” Jude said with a smirk.

His face fell into a scowl and she huffed a laugh at it. He probably hated that she just implied a mortal could be more attractive than him. Sure a mortal could be more muscular easily, but Cardan truly was handsome beyond reason, he made her head spin when she looked at him. Maybe it was the wine--- ughh she wished she could say it was the wine.

“Why would I want help you revenge Locke?” she said returning them to their previous conversation. Cardan huffs a laugh at her. His grin lighting up his beautiful face. How he was so perfect she didn’t know. He stretched his arms above his head, Jude tried not to notice the lean muscles there either, and then he leaned his back flat on the bed, his knees bent, feet still on the floor.

“Because he still lies with Niccasia, and he is to be wed to yet another lover. Locke is stringing you along Jude. So why not revenge him? Kiss the person you hate more than any other over him. Do it just because he is so foul and because he will never know that you did it to spite him. Just like you would have never known about either of his lovers till he broke your heart.”

His words stung. Jude didn’t love Locke but it still hurt. He was to be married. And he was still with Niccasia. She felt anger bubble up within her. Easier to feel anger than it was to feel hurt. Jude stood and she walked toward Cardan until she stood between his legs. He leaned up partway on the bed, resting on his forearms. Oh, he was making a show of himself for her she realized noting the way the light caught on the definition of his stomach. He wanted her to look at him. His lidded eyes seemed to say ‘aren’t I lovely’ and damn it if he wasn’t.

“Cardan,” she starts, his midnight eyes gleamed in the fairy light, “I swear to tell no one of your note with my name on it nor of anything I heard or saw in this room tonight if you swear to tell no one you saw or spoke to me,” her voice an arctic whisper as she held her hand out to him. He leaned forward to grasp her hand in his larger one.

“I swear it, Jude,” she could smell the magic as surged bounding him to his vow. She had magic to ensure he was faithful to his promise, but he had to trust her on good faith alone. Her head was spinning but she knew it wasn't because of the wine; it was from what she was about to do. Jude took a deep breath before the magic took its final hold and spoke.

“Then seal it with a kiss”

Next Chapter

#jurdan #jurdan fanfic #tfota fanfic #tfota #jude cardan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #the mortal maiden #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #my writing

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etherrealoblivion · 5 years ago

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The Same Direction

Prompt: After a difficult case, the team goes to Rossi’s beach house. Spencer has trouble dealing with his feelings toward Y/N.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Rating: Mature

A/N: Thank you so much for 200 followers! Here’s a treat. gif from Pinterest.

Words: 3,000

MASTERLIST

“Orders from Strauss, everyone needs to go.”

The team had just gotten back from a big case, spanning a total of five weeks on the job. It was a particularly rough one; the killer had gotten away, and the family of the victim was pressing charges. They were all in desperate need of a vacation. And it just so happened that luck was on their side. Rossi had a beach house that he’d been keeping well hidden. Strauss had gotten wind of it - presumably through a little hacker birdie - and told the team to take a week-long break to calm their nerves.

The team was ecstatic to finally get some time off. Besides, everyone loved the beach.

“Is it mandatory?”

Everyone except, apparently, for Spencer Reid.

“Yes,” Hotch said shortly, picking up his go-bag and dismissing everyone to go home and pack.

Spencer, however, was not giving up.

“Couldn’t I just stay home and relax?”

Y/N, the newest member of the team, shoved him softly.

“What’s the matter, Spence? Scared to see what Rossi looks like in his thong?”

“It’s called a Speedo, Y/N,” Rossi said, already headed out the door of the briefing room, leaving his coworkers gaping behind him.

Great. Spencer had no choice but to pack up his belongings and join his friends on the trip to the beach. He never thought being packed in a car with his closest friends would be quite like this. Once they’d gotten to forty-two bottles of beer on the wall, he’d fallen asleep.

The beach house was quite nice, which, in retrospect, should have been expected. Rossi was not all that shy about his wealth, nor shy about spending it.

Spencer was just glad there were enough bedrooms for everyone. He said he’d come to the beach but he didn’t say he’d actually go to the ocean. His plans for the following week consisted of a locked door, a plethora of books, and no ocean.

Plans, however, that never came to fruition.

“Hey, Spence,” Y/N was stood in his doorway, a wrap around her hips and a shawl on her shoulders, “We’re all gonna check out the water. It’s low-tide. You comin’?”

Spencer gave her a withering look.

“I-uh-I can’t. I’m, um, I’m allergic to sunscreen.”

It was a lame lie and he knew it. He also knew better than to try and lie to a profiler, not to mention a gorgeous woman who he may or may not have a tiny, minuscule crush on.

“Really?”

An evil glint shone in her eye and she tranced forward, hoisting him up out of bed and pulling him out of his room. He protested the whole way down to the beach, trying to come up with excuses.

“Our stuff could get stolen, someone could get stung by a jellyfish, I’m not in my bathing suit.”

“Spence, you’re not allergic to sunscreen, you can borrow some of mine, Rossi brought a safe for our stuff, and I know for a fact that those are swim shorts you’re wearing.”

“Yes, but I don’t have my SPF swim shirt! If I get burned it’s your fault!”

She just giggled, clutching his arm as she led him down to the beach, spotting their coworkers lounging under a rainbow umbrella in the distance.

“Pretty Boy? What are you doing here? Y/L/N finally drag you outta your room?”

“Yep!” she said proudly. “Although I’m not sure I’ll be able to drag him into the water. He keeps muttering about jellyfish statistics. Don’t start!” she added as he opened his mouth.

Spencer blushed, taking a seat in the one empty lounge chair, startled when Y/N sat down right next to him. He tried his best not to think about her warm hip touching his.

Prentiss bounced up, closing the book she was reading. “Well, maybe he’ll follow our lead, huh? Come on, guys!”

And she ran towards the water, Morgan, J.J, Garcia, and Rossi jumping up to follow. Hotch was taking a walk along the beach so Spencer and Y/N were suddenly alone.

“Are you not going to go in?” Spencer asked as she fumbled with her beach bag.

“I am, I just need to put on sunscreen.”

She stood, stripping off her shawl and skirt wrap. Spencer tried not to watch as she squirted the lotion into her hands, rubbing them together and massaging her legs, arms, and neck. He turned his head toward the beach, attempting to watch a flock of seagulls. His eyes unconsciously drifted back to her toned body, so exposed. She didn’t even seem bothered by how on display she was, people walking by able to see quite a lot.

“Spence? A little help?”

Reid snapped to attention, eyes refocusing.

“What? Oh.”

She had turned her back to him, holding out the sunscreen bottle.

“You want me to…. Put-put the….”

“Sunscreen on my back? Yes. Please use a lot, I burn easy.”

No, no, no, no. NO!

“Okay.”

Fuck.

Spencer took the bottle and squirted a generous amount into his hand. Y/N smiled at him, pleased he was helping her, and laid down on a beach chair, untying the back of her bikini, the strings dangling down toward the sand leaving her back fully exposed.

Spencer swallowed hard.

Okay. This was fine. Just think about crime scenes. Dead bodies. Naked Morgan! There we go. Boner gone.

But the moment he touched her skin, all hope was lost. She felt like silk under his hands, the softness of the lotion only making him glide against her smoother. He could have handled that just fine if not for the fact that as he rubbed the lotion into her skin, she let out soft moans, gasping as he brushed over certain spots.

“Mm, that feels nice, Spencer. A little higher…. Yes, right there,” she keened softly.

Spencer had to suppress a moan himself. The sight of her underneath him, back displayed, writing and moaning was enough to get him hard.

The sunscreen was now well-applied to her back, but Spencer couldn’t stop yet. There was a growing issue in his swim shorts and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. So he just kept rubbing her back, going from stingily applying the sunscreen to a full-blown massage.

That…. did not help the situation.

Y/N just kept moaning his name, telling him how good he was at this. The situation was escalating and Spencer needed to stop.

He moved his hands away quickly, turning away from her and shutting his eyes, praying that his … length … wouldn’t be that visible.

“You okay?” she touched his shoulder and he spun around, hoping and wishing she wouldn’t look down.

She didn’t. She was busy retying her bikini.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, far from fine.

She took the bottle back from him.

“Want me to do your legs?”

“NO! No. Um, no thank you. I think I’ll just stay here. This isn’t a swim shirt and I don’t wanna get it wet.”

She smiled devilishly, leaning forward and grasping the edges of his shirt.

“Then don’t.”

And ever so slowly, maintaining eye contact the entire time, she lifted his shirt up over his head and threw it down on the beach chair. Even stranger, Spencer found himself letting her. He let her squeeze sunblock into her hand and run it over his shoulders, massaging it in as he had done to her.

“There! Now you can come in the water!”

“Y/N, the dangers of-”

“Hush! Follow me!” and she grabbed his hand, leading him toward the ocean, calling out to their friends.

“Look who’s here!”

“Reid!” the group cheered collectively, laughing as Spencer slowly entered the water, wrapping his arms around his torso self consciously.

He always wore a swim shirt. Even in hot tubs. It hadn’t even occurred to him how uncovered he was until he was smack dab in front of his colleagues.

“Hey, what’s the deal, Pretty Ricky? I’ve never seen you swim without a shirt before. Come to think of it, I’ve never really seen you swim.”

“About one in every sixteen people gets injured somehow at the beach. One in three of those happen in the water.”

“La-la-la-la-la,” Garcia said, plugging her ears. “I do not want to hear about how dangerous the ocean is. Living in blissful ignorance is my forte.”

Y/N laughed and Spencer joined in, a little of the tension slipping off his shoulders. Once the banter began, it was easier to forget about the unknown terrors lurking beneath the water’s surface.

Until….

“Hey, let’s go deeper!” Prentiss said, slowly wading further until she was so far out they could barely hear her. “Come on guys! I think there’s a sandbank just up ahead!”

“I’m out,” Garcia said, turning around and walking back to the shore. “I’m going to nake a nap. If anyone needs me, don’t bother trying to wake me up.”

Morgan, Rossi, and JJ all enthusiastically waded deeper towards Prentiss, frolicking in the waves and calling for Spencer and Y/N to join them.

Y/N softly took Spencer’s hand.

“Come on, I don’t know if I’ll be able to touch the bottom and I might need to hold onto you.”

And before he could protest and pull out a worrying statistic, she had led him just deep enough so that his head was above the water. In front of them, their friends were clearly standing on a sandbank, happily jumping in the waves.

“Spence,” Y/N mumbled, struggling to keep her head above the water. “I can’t touch.”

“Oh, um.”

“You don’t mind, do you?” she asked, climbing onto his front and wrapping her legs around him, securing them behind him. His hands unconsciously flew to her hips to hold her, the movement shocking him.

This…. was not good. She was pressed right up against a very sensitive area that he’d already had to calm down from earlier. The sudden contact was making the blood rush downward, no doubt leading to a very unpleasant conversation.

“Thanks,” she whispered, sliding her hands around his neck and glancing down at his lips. Wait, what?

If Spencer hadn’t been so distracted, he would have been able to read her expression better. Instead, he was left a muttering mess, trying to keep his thoughts as pure as possible so that there wasn’t a sudden growth in his trunks.

“No problem,” he said, voice cracking and he kept walking toward the bank, Y/N in his arms. Each step made her rub up against him in a less than pure way.

“You okay?” she asked, readjusting her legs and pulling tighter to him.

“Mm-hmm,” he grunted, not trusting his voice not to give out.

By some miracle, they reached their friends, Spencer set her down and was finally able to control his breathing enough to stop the hardness growing in his pants.

The obligatory beach games were played with much splashing, diving, and seawater getting in people’s eyes. After the third round of a game of chicken, Rossi decided it was time to head back. The tide was getting higher and it was about dinnertime.

“Can you give me another lift?” Y/N turned to Spencer, taking his hand for the millionth time that day. She always was a little more touchy with him.

“Um, sure. Hop on,” he pat his back, hoping it was nonchalant enough not to arouse suspicion.

That’s not the only thing that’s aroused.

Hush!

And she smiled, jumping up on his back and riding him back to where she could touch the bottom.

“Thanks, Spence. You’re fun to ride!” and she trounced off toward the beach house, leaving Spencer befuddled and confused.

Rossi cooked up a pot of his famous pasta for dinner, sending everyone into a glorious food coma from overeating.

Spencer retreated to his room and dug his nose into Les Miserables, quickly getting sucked into the story.

A knock on his door startled him several hours later.

“Come in,” he muttered, pulling the covers up over his bare legs.

It was Hotch.

“Hey, everyone’s turning in for the night, just wanted to let you know. In the morning, we’re going to head to that frozen ice place.”

“Okay,” he smiled at Hotch as he closed the door.

Glancing at the clock, he was surprised to see it was already 10:30.

Usually, Spencer accidentally stayed up until three AM, falling asleep with a case file clutched in his arms only to wake up in three hours. Tonight, however, there was no case to stress about, no time to wake up tomorrow, and no having to worry about stupid feelings for a coworker. If he wanted to, he could go for a walk on the beach and no one would bother him.

Which is exactly what he chose to do.

The sand had gone from scorching his feet during the day to chilly and more stable at nighttime. He walked for about five minutes until he saw a soft light in the distance. Someone had lit a small fire a few meters from the shoreline.

He was about to turn around when he noticed a very familiar shawl wrapped around the figure’s shoulders.

“Y/N?”

Her head snapped towards him and although he couldn’t see her expression, he could hear the smile in her voice.

“Hey, Spence!” he walked up and sat next to her, facing the ocean. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was just taking a walk. What about you?”

He made the mistake of looking at her, nearly gasping at the way the soft glow of the firelight illuminated her features. He couldn’t help watching her lips as she spoke.

“Oh, same as you. I just kinda needed some alone time.”

“Oh, do you want me to-”

“No!” she reached out, grabbing his arm to stop him from standing. “No, It’s… It’s ok. I like having you near, Spencer.”

His breath froze in his throat.

“I-ahem-I like to be near you, Y/N. I mean, you’re fun to be around.”

She laughed, hugging his arm and resting her head on his shoulder. Spencer tensed at the contact, wondering if she knew what she was doing and, more importantly, what it was doing to him.

They stared off into the waves, watching the birds dance on the horizon, the moon low in the sky. It was beautiful.

“You ever wonder why we do what we do?” she asked, voice barely a whisper.

He was shocked yet again by her forwardness. He never knew what she was going to say.

“Like, we know how to do the job, but how do we turn it off? Everyone we come in contact with, we have the tools to read their lives story right off their face. But what the hell do we know about each other? I don’t know. Sometimes I just feel like no one knows me.”

She glanced at him, cheeks turning pink. “Sorry, forget it,” she whispered, pulling back from him and throwing sand on the fire. “Goodnight, Spencer.”

“You like the beach,” he blurted, making Y/N stop standing up. “You-you like the beach and-and chocolate ice cream. You hate it when Hotch’s belt doesn’t match his shoes but you never say anything because you don’t want to bother him. You tell people your favorite color is blue but it’s actually yellow. When a case involves a child, you always wear your hair down so that if you’re the one to find them, they’ll be able to smell your shampoo. You don’t let anyone initiate contact with you and you never let anyone hug you. Except-except for me.”

The words left his mouth before he could stop them. His gaze had drifted back to the ocean, spotting a dolphin jump in the distance.

“That’s what I know about you, Y/N.”

He dreaded meeting her eyes but the silence was more unbearable.

The moment their gaze met, a wave crashed upon the shore in front of them and Y/N leaned forward, gently pressing her lips to his. Spencer gasped, lightly pressing back, keeping his hands firmly at his sides.

Emotions flew between them, Y/N reaching up and softly touching Spencer’s cheek, a burst of care rising in his chest, tightening in his throat. His hand found the back of her head and he pulled her closer. Silently, she climbed into his lap and deepened the kiss, moaning softly against his mouth.

Spencer gasped, hands moving to her hips, grasping them roughly. Her lips parted and she ran her tongue along his lips, parting them softly and delving deeper the moment he gave her access.

The fire next to them was out but a new one had lit between them, sending waves of warmth amidst their bodies. Spencer was emboldened by the kiss, gently biting her lip and coaxing her mouth more open. Their hands moved everywhere, pulling each other’s hair, caressing each other’s backs, and holding each others cheeks ever so gently.

Y/N was the first to pull back, resting her forehead against his, breathing heavily against his mouth.

“As much as I love this, I’m not all that excited about sand getting in certain places.”

He laughed lightly, stroking her hair.

“I’m-I’m not quite ready to….”

“We don’t have to.”

She pulled back, giving him a heartwarming smile and stood up, holding out her hand to Spencer.

“Come on,” she smiled and he took her hand, standing. “Let’s take a walk.”

And so they walked off along the beach, hand clasped together, conversing quietly about nothing in particular.

No matter how much Spencer already knew about her, he found himself wanting to get to know her all over again.

And Y/N had absolutely no problem with that.

“Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction.” -Antoine de Saint-Exupery

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #fanfic #fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfiction #criminal minds

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sirowsky · 4 years ago

Text

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, Angst.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: This was painful to write. If you don’t do well with angst, I recommend skipping this chapter. BUT - there is a happy ending!

Chapter 30

“Ah, there you are. We’ve been waiting. Now, before you try anything, I have fail-safes in place in case you try and stop me, and they all end in tragedy. Like this nasty little explosive underneath their chairs, for instance.”

You stood frozen to the spot, trembling with fear, and not an inkling of it for yourself.

“Don’t… Don’t do this.”

“Not to worry, my sweet. With the help of your data, I’ve been able to streamline the process. Theoretically, I should be able to directly transfer powered cells from Marcus into his daughter. The familial DNA should help alleviate any foreign-cell attacks. Though, I’m afraid it will still be painful.”

“My data? Someone’s been feeding you my medical information?”

“Oh, yes. I don’t think you realise just how many people in this world are interested in levelling the playing-field. I mean, how’d you think I got out of prison?”

While he spoke, he made the final calculations to start his experiment, and as the machines started whirring and clicking, your fear escalated into full-blown panic. They were both unconscious, for the time being, but you knew that once the pain started, they’d be forced awake. You didn’t actually remember that from your own experience with this experiment, but you still knew that it was true. You sneaked a ghost hand towards one of the machines and unhooked a tube that was connected to Missy’s arm, at the other end, trying to buy time. The machine started beeping to indicate that something was wrong.

“Now, now, sweetie. Don’t go sabotaging this, or your precious family might not come out of it quite as alright as both of us would like.”

As he walked over to reconnect the tube, he tapped on something on his belt, and you recognised an identical device to what the Inventor had used to protect himself against powers. Someone in HQ had betrayed you all, and the feeling burned through you with an aftertaste of hate.

“My family are not your fucking toys!”

The room shook significantly, and he looked around with real wonder in his eyes.

“That’s impressive. See, didn’t I give you a wonderful gift?”

“No. I would’ve preferred to stay ordinary and dull for the rest of my life if it had meant not having to live through that shit.”

“Do you really expect me to believe that? Look at where you are. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t taken you. You should be more grateful.”

“I do see where I am, and I would rather have never met them at all, if it meant they were spared from this.”

“People are inherently selfish, which is why I don’t believe you. Now, let’s get started. And a word of warning, my dear – if you disrupt the process once it’s already started, you’ll kill them both. And I doubt if you could bring both of them back from the dead without killing yourself.”

He hit a button on the computer keypad, and the Machine connected to Marcus came alive, and started siphoning out powered cells from his blood-stream. He woke up after just a few seconds, unable to move at all, and you could see the pain in his eyes. Helpless to do anything else, you reached out to him with your ghost energy, trying to let him know that you were there and that you were trying to save him. You could feel him trying to use his powers, but the machine disrupted it, and caused him even more pain.

“Please, stop!”

The second machine, the one connected to Missy, started whirring and moving, and your blood instantly flipped from freezing to boiling. You couldn’t stand the thought of her even knowing this amount of pain, much less being forced to suffer it, for god knows how long. And as she woke up, and that pain became visible in her eyes, something old and sure and endlessly powerful took over your mind. There wasn’t a single thought, not so much as an echo of anything rational or logical or sensible. The maternal instinct was all-powerful in a way that nothing else could compare to. And the power it created together with your abilities, was beyond belief. The house disappeared, and so did Dr. Prince and all of his equipment, and you could feel the moment that both Marcus and Missy’s hearts stopped beating. But it didn’t frighten you, because you were a healer. Moving up to crouch in between them, where they now laid on the bare ground, you took one of their hands in each one of yours, and exchanged your life for theirs. You had hoped to be able to stay alive long enough to see their faces one last time, but the energy required to heal them, combined with what you’d already spent, was too much, and you needed the single grain you had left, for one last thing. One small, but so very important thing. You fell away without seeing anything but the blue sky above you.

It was okay, though. They were worth it.

***

Marcus was working in his office when Missy came to find him. It had been a long day, and he was so tired he could have fallen asleep sitting up. But he knew that even if he were to lay down in a soft and cool bed right then, he still wouldn’t have succumbed to that blissful nothingness. He hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours at a time, since the incident, and he was long past exhausted.

“Dad, are you coming?”

She came to get him every day after school. She had for the past month, and he didn’t have the heart to ask her not to.

“Yeah. I’ll be right there, sweetheart.”

She turned and headed off to medical, and he got up to follow her. A part of him wanted to turn around and run in the opposite direction. A part of him wanted to never have to set foot in that fucking room again. But that was just the fear. The love was so much stronger, and it relentlessly dragged him back there, day and night, no matter how badly it hurt.

Missy was already hopped up on the bed, sitting cross-legged by your feet, when he walked in. She was so hopeful still. So positive. All Marcus could feel was pain. Every time he saw you, he saw those moments. Those short, few seconds that had taken everything away. He’d seen it in your eyes just before your power erupted. The complete lack of thought as your mind reverted to pure instinct, to protect your daughter. His daughter. He’d seen how you’d dispatched the entire house, and everything that threatened your family, into one of the dimensions that you had access to, a feat that had almost completely drained you. Then, he’d woken up to seeing you fall, and in his heart, he’d known that you couldn’t be saved. Not this time. But he’d still tried. He’d tried so hard that Missy had eventually been forced to be the one to beg him to stop before she lost him too. He’d never screamed so loud for so long before. And yet, somehow, that still hadn’t been the worst part. That had come the next morning, when medical had informed him that you’d been examined that day because of nausea, and that they’d discovered that you were pregnant. The timeframe had matched that day in his office, when your bodies had reacted so differently, and you’d cried out of pure love for him. It had broken parts of him that he had never even known before.

He walked silently to your side, and took your burned right hand between his. He tried not to look at your face, and the tube that disappeared down your throat, the slight blue tinge to your eyelids, and the way your skin hugged your collarbones. When the team had reached the disappeared house, they’d wasted no time in getting the three of you back to HQ, and you’d been rushed here immediately. They’d found residual brain-activity, and the decision had been made to keep you alive artificially, in case your powers had somehow been able to protect you. In case you could have found a way to cling to some thread of life and hold on until your strength could be returned. There had been no change in your condition since that day, and if it hadn’t been for Missy, he would’ve already asked them to just let you rest in peace.

“Hey, alma. We’re here. So, today’s story comes from Noodles. He managed to get out-witted by a squirrel, and it is too funny not to share.”

She told you one story every day. Something that had happened during her day that she knew you would’ve wanted to hear about, and would’ve listened animatedly to, before enthusiastically sharing your thoughts about it. Marcus didn’t hear the stories. He came and sat with her while she talked, because that’s what she’d asked him to do, but for him, being there wasn’t about hope. It was about survival. He didn’t want to hope, didn’t want to give himself that potentially crushing second wave of loss. But he also needed to see you. He needed you, and no amount of pain could crush that feeling. Since they didn’t have a home anymore, they were living at HQ during the weeks, because it was closer to Missy’s school than Anita’s house. But they still stayed with her over the weekends. Marcus made Missy dinner every evening, and sat with her to help her with homework or watch some show before she went to sleep, trying to keep her life as close to normal as these circumstances would permit. But as soon as she fell asleep, he came right back here, curled up next to you on the bed and cried until there were no more tears, and sleep forced itself over him.

This night was no exception. He walked in on legs that were impossibly heavy, refusing to look at the machines and the tubes, focusing on your hands and the parts of your skin that were bare and unbroken by needles. It was so strange that your body was unharmed, that there wasn’t a mark on you to signify the violence and destructive nature of that incident. You were still perfect, even in death. Wrapping one arm over your chest, careful not to disturb the breathing apparatus, he took his usual place on your left side, burrowed his face into your neck and breathed in the familiar scent of your shampoo. He was so tired that the tears fell without the laboured breathing, or shockwaves of grief rocking his body, the way it usually did. He just laid there, completely drained of will and hope and desire, waiting for the restless, nightmarish sleep that would inevitably drag him under. A sudden incessive beeping of one of the machines, tried to gripe at his attention. He closed his eyes and burrowed deeper into your neck, certain that if he turned his head towards it, all it would tell him would be that the time had come. That your body had finally weakened to the point where not even artificially sustained organs was enough to keep you there. He hadn’t wanted to hope, and he’d thought that he didn’t have any left, but as he laid there and waited for the machines to declare your final departure – he realised that he had. A small part of him had clung to some imagined scenario where you could’ve somehow clawed your way back, and now that part was dying with you. It felt as though someone had shrunk his lungs. He struggled to draw in more than tiny gulps of air, and his arm involuntarily tightened around you, pulling you into his chest, as though your lifeless body could somehow free him.

A hand found his arm, and held it lightly, but he didn’t look up to see who it was that was trying to soothe him. He didn’t want to be soothed, he wanted to drift off into the nothingness with you. But then the doors to the room opened, and he could hear it. So, why hadn’t he heard the person that was holding his arm, when they entered?

“Oh, my god… Marcus, look.”

It was one of the twins, and the tone of her voice made something inside of him wake up. He pulled his head away from your neck, and the first thing he saw was your hand, holding his arm. The touch was light because it was weak, not soothing. Not daring to believe it, he moved his arm, so he could take your hand, and when you squeezed it, ever so faintly, he fell apart. He sobbed and hugged you, and tried to tell you how much he loved you and how grateful he was, but the shudders and trembles that kept coursing through him made it all garbled up and unintelligible. He never heard the twins working around you, never felt them change the equipment, after they’d removed the breathing machine, and made sure that you could breathe on your own, before pulling the tubes out of your throat. He didn’t notice Anita and Missy walk in, however much time later, but he felt them hug him, and he wanted to thank them, to tell them how much he loved them too, but the relief was so overwhelming that all he could manage was grunts and sobs.

They let him cry himself into absolute exhaustion. He was so tired that it didn’t take long. He fell asleep still cradling you to his chest, and they didn’t have the heart to lift him out of the bed.

***

A couple of days later, Marcus was sitting on the side of your bed, just staring at you while you ate. You had to eat carefully and slowly, since your throat was still sore from the tube, but you were already strong enough to sit up in the bed, and eat by yourself. You’d been expressly forbidden from trying to speak, until your throat was less swollen and irritated, or you might permanently damage your vocal cords. But it didn’t bother you. You and Marcus knew each other so well that your eyes and expressions were enough to let you know what the other was thinking. And Missy was enjoying getting the opportunity to blab incessantly without you being able to stop her with a well-placed quip. You knew that big conversations would have to be had, in the near future, and while you could feel how nervous and anxious Marcus was about that, you really weren’t. There were things you needed to tell him, things you needed to try and help him understand, but none of it was bad. Not from your perspective, at least.

You finished eating, and took a few long and slow sips of water. You could tell that there was something on Marcus’ mind, and when you put the glass down, you shot him a look to say ‘tell me’, and he sighed.

“It’s not… I don’t wanna talk about it until you can actually talk to me.”

You just kept giving him the same look, crossing your arms in front of your chest to let him know that you weren’t leaving the subject alone any time soon. Whatever this was, it was causing the wrinkle in between his eyebrows to deepen, a clear sign that it was something that hurt him, and he’d been hurting for so long already, it was time for him to start getting some of it out. He saw your persistence, and he knew you weren’t gonna let it go. His eyes dropped to his own hands in his lap, and he took a minute to consider how to phrase it.

“They told me… about the… baby.”

His eyes were still downcast, so he didn’t see your face soften, or your eyes turn warm. But you wanted him to keep talking, so you made no effort to get his attention yet.

“And I know that you did what you did to save us, and that you couldn’t have made it a priority right then, and I don’t blame you for doing what you had to. I just can’t help but think… what if that was it?”

His hands were trembling slightly, but you couldn’t tell if it was with sadness or fear. His voice seemed so small.

“What if that was our only chance? I’ve never felt the kind of… loss… that I felt when they told me that. The loss of what could have been, of the possibility. And I just…”

He took a deep breath.

“I had no idea how much I wanted that baby, until it was already gone.”

He finally looked up at you, and blinked a couple of times with confusion as he took in your expression. Because you weren’t sad. You were smiling. You picked up the notepad Amaire had left you for answering medical questions, and scribbled down the few words required to explain yourself, before turning it around to show him.

--The baby is safe—

You watched his eyes as he read those words, staring at them for several seconds as though he couldn’t understand them. And then his eyes snapped back to yours and there were a million questions in them, but he had no idea where to start or probably even what most of those questions were yet. So, he just kissed you instead, and the depth of emotion that he poured into that kiss, had you both in tears.

Authors’ Note: I love criticism, don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@blueeyesatnight @farfromjustordinary @allmyspideys @hrk-fic-recs @strawberryperegrine @lucrezia-thoughts @computeringturtle @sarahjkl82-blog

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno fic #we can be heroes #we can be heroes fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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imjeralee · 5 years ago

Text

Wallflower: Chapter 4 - Open Me

Raihan x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Note: This is my first Pokemon fanfic. I hope you enjoy it :) Originally posted on Archive of Our Own.

Summary: You’re an unassuming Pokemon breeder who works at the nursery in the Wild Area and he’s Raihan, the fearsome gym leader of Hammerlocke who has more than a million followers.

You don’t want anything to do with him but he’s…persistent.

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Warnings: Lemon, smut, violence, language

OPEN ME

...

"Some time ago, this woman did this, uh.... this art performance. It was extreme art, using herself. Basically, she stood with this sign saying that she was letting the public do whatever they wanted to do with her - and she was gonna stand for seven hours and do nothing. She laid out some stuff in front of her - amongst random objects, I think there was a pen, a flower, a gun, a knife...So anyway, she stood and at first, people just stared and watched her. Someone went up to her and gave her a hug. Gave her a handshake. Someone gave her the flower to hold. Someone kissed her on the lips. The public chuckled and laughed, watching this woman stand there like a living dummy. They used the pen and drew on her or something. It began to escalate: someone started taking off her clothes. She stood semi-naked until someone covered her up. Someone slapped her. Someone punched her. I think she started crying but they didn't stop. Someone grabbed the knife and cut the side of her neck. Someone took the gun and put it in her hand, pointed it to her own head. When the time was up and the woman started moving again, the people who hurt her ran away immediately, afraid of the repercussions. When I read that article, I knew: human beings are absolutely disgusting to the core."

She lifts up a knife next. A terrified Deerling trembles in the corner of the room whilst Banette grins.

"That being said, I guess I'm no exception. I'm sorry it had to come to this."

....

Detective Looker is hard at work.

He's got a few things going on - not only has he taken over Raihan's social media account for the time being (it took a lot of persuasion but Raihan finally agreed, vexingly... if he might say so himself) and now he has taken it upon himself to personally investigate the hotel, in particular, room 241. It's Raihan's designated room should he ever visit Circhester, Spikemuth or Wyndon, and Looker's interrogated the majority of staff and checked out all CCTV. No-one reported witnessing any unauthorised persons going in and out of the room and the CCTV does not accurately show the hallway, indicating several blindspots. They also tell him a keycard went missing which was not replaced or brought to management's attention. Looker is not surprised. Of course, there's a hiccup...whilst the hotel staff apologise profusely for their blunders, Looker dismisses them. It sounds like they'll improve their security from now on.

Looker heads to the room, opening the door. Everything is evidence and should be treated with utmost care...he unleashes his Growlithe to sniff out anything. He wouldn't be surprised if Raihan and the girl were snorting up berry dust or anything. Who knows what kids these day were up to...who knows.

Upon checking the room, he stands where the camera in the DVD was facing and finds two light switches in the wall that faces the bed directly. Attempting to remove them, he gets Magnemite to ease it off using it's Magnetic Pull ability and it manages to take the cover off, revealing a square slot where any sort of camera could be placed there, perfect for recording. He takes a few snaps of it using his Rotom phone and inspects the area where the dust doesn't settle. The camera was placed here for some time (a long time, perhaps) but it's long gone now.

Someone had set up a camera way before the one night stand and removed it during the night when both were sleeping. Pretty ballsy, if Looker admits; the perp had gone into the room when Raihan and the girl were in it. But from the testimony, the young couple were drunk as fish so it's not surprising they were out cold for the rest of the night and didn’t notice. The next question is - if no-one saw anyone go in or go out, how did the culprit escape? Looker turns to the window, finds that it's easily opened and proceeds to look outside. Anyone could just use pokemon to fly out here. Also, how did the culprit know where the girl worked to be able to deliver the DVD directly to her workplace?

She probably works for Macro Cosmos. It's the perfect setup - she's Raihan's biggest fan and being an employee of Macro Cosmos, she could have access to what hotel he stays in. Macro Cosmos also has their paws stuck in the Pokemon Nurseries; they pretty much run everything in Galar. They may as well be the government, Looker thinks to himself.

He grabs a pokeball and presses the button. "Go, Dustox." And the large moth pokemon abruptly appears and Looker issues his command: "Dust it."

Dustox flutters around, sprinkling some dust over the window pane where it reveals two handprints.

"Good job, boy." Looker says as Dustox lands atop his head and he pulls out some equipment to take prints. They look small - most likely a female's. Next, Rotom buzzes, indicating a new message. "Talk." Looker mutters, as Rotom flies out.

"Zzrt, I've got the report; I've also got the address of the fan who told Raihan to go to Spikemuth!"

"Thanks, Rotom. This is coming along nicely." He mutters to himself. Grabbing Rotom, he checks the rest of the statistics report; looks like the person has also commented on every single photo and video Raihan has uploaded since...ever. It's simple. Real simple. Just a case of blackmail and obsession after all.

...

Looker arrives in Spikemuth and looks up from his Rotom phone. He's standing in front of an apartment block that looks very rundown. Of course, everything in Spikemuth is grizzled and decrepit, but somehow this sad building really takes the cake. Rotom's provided address mentions the third floor so he quietly makes his way up and stops at the front door. This is it.

Letting go of Rotom, he makes a circle with his finger. "Scan it."

"You got it, champ." Rotom says, before he zooms into the air and a dim blue light glows. "There'zzz only one person inzzide. A man."

"Thanks, I'm going in." Looker knocks on the door and waits.

A few seconds later, the door opens and a middle-aged, bald man in a tracksuit opens it. "Whaddya want?" He slurs, clearly drunk.

Looker holds up his badge. "I'm with the police; I'm looking for - "

He doesn't even get to finish his sentence because the man yells over his shoulder, "What are you in trouble for this time?! Now the po-po's here!"

There is no response.

The man sighs, opens the door and grunts at Looker, "C'mon in."

With an eyebrow raised, Looker steps inside. The flat is in a disgusting state and there's a terrible odor. Feces, perhaps. Looker follows the man down the small hallway of the cramped apartment, stepping over heaps of trash and boxes and upturned furniture on the floor and they stop at a random door. The man proceeds to slam his huge fist over it and it rattles in the doorframe

"Hey, are you in there?!" He yells, before he tries again, but there is still no response.

Looker holds out his arm. "Stand back." With a hefty kick, the door opens violently and swings on the hinges.

Inside, it's a fairly normal room, save for the numerous posters of Raihan pasted to the walls and a bunch of magazines on the floor with Raihan's picture on it, along with the mangled carcass of a dead Deerling. The man gags and runs back towards the direction of the living room whilst Looker steps in.

"Rotom?"

"Yezzzir?"

"Let's get a team here."

"Okay-doo."

...

The Wild Area...

"I've got two wonderful arms, I've got two wonderful lips, I'm over twenty one and I'm free…Oh, I've got a hive full o' honey, for the right kind of honeybee…"

In the Rolling Fields, a young man sits in the middle of a patch of tall grass with a jar of honey in hand and a small plastic knife in his other which he's using to spread over his face.

A group of trainers pass him whilst chatting animatedly and giggling, all female - looks like they're heading to Motostoke - and they stop as soon as they spot him, eyes wide. Realising he's being watched, he grins and waves at them. "Ladies! You wanna see my Lickilicky? He's big and pink - "

"Ewww! Weirdo!" They scream loudly before quickly scampering away.

He looks upset. "What's wrong with Lickilicky?" Rummaging a hand through his pockets, he takes out a pokeball and presses the button, releasing a large pink pokemon and he continues spreading honey over his chin. "Wait," He pauses abruptly, frowning. "How does this work again? Was I meant to put honey on myself, or on a pokemon? What do you think, Licky?"

His pokemon turns to him and sticks it's massive pink tongue out in response.

"Eh, fair enough. Okay, here goes nothing. Let's give it a shot." Once he's finished giving himself a honey moustache, he moves to stand up and holds his arms out, dropping the knife to the ground - but then his phone rings and he fishes Rotom out from his pocket. "Yello."

"Um, it's me."

"What's up?"

“I...I think I have a date. Can you help me?”

“Hell yeah, I will!” He shouts down the phone before he hangs up, then - "Frick, why'd I do that? Damn, where we gonna meet?"

He immediately calls her back.

"Yeah?" She sounds exhausted.

"Where we gonna meet and when?"

"Can we meet right now? The date is tomorrow. Are you in Galar? Sorry for the short notice..."

"Nah, s'alright, I wasn't doing anything important anyway," He replies, "And yeah, I'm in the Wild Area. Meet you outside your workplace?"

"Sure."

After he hangs up a second time, there is a loud rustling noise emitting from the right. He gasps and whips his glance over over. "What was that?"

There's another loud rustle to the left which makes him leap frantically in the air.

"Huh? What? Who?"

Another rustle.

"Who goes there?"

Glancing left and right, he can't tell where the noise is coming from but then the grass parts and a dark shadow leaps out. His eyes widen.

…..

You're waiting outside the nursery as agreed, checking your phone for any messages when you see a figure sprinting towards you from the horizon. It's some dude dressed up as a Galarian Ponyta. Oh, wait. You know this dude.

"Help! Help me! Demon cat! Demon cats are chasing me!!" He yells, waving his arms around.

It's Glenn. Finally, he's here. Took him long enough. He's rushing towards the nursery with his Lickilicky waddling after him and there's something chasing him; you notice it's a couple of Purrloin that have all set their eyes on him.

Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he hisses, "Back, I say! All of you, stay back! Oh? You want a battle, do you? Fine!!" He grabs a pokeball from his belt and tosses it without looking and throws his arms in the air, "Go Kricketune! Delelele whooooop!"

You continue to watch as a large, reddish insect pokemon appears in a burst out of light and it stands its ground in front of the rampaging Purrloin - however, it's quickly pushed to the ground and trampled over.

"No!" Glenn yelps, before he spies you and proceeds to hurriedly make his way towards you, hiding behind your back, "Oh good, you're here. Do something!"

"Okay, I got this." You mutter; the Purrloin stop before you, peering up at you inquisitively whilst Glenn quivers in fear. You quickly fish out some spare berries from your bag which you keep handy for these sorts of situations and squat down to hand the fruit to them. They surround you at once and you distribute the food in an orderly fashion. "One for you...one for you.... aaaaaaaand...one for you." You mutter as they line up, single file. Once each pokemon has a berry, they purr and meow appreciatively at you before turning to leave quietly.

From behind your shoulder, you hear: "Are they gone? Are the demon cats gone?"

"Yeah."

"Phew!" Glenn pokes his head out and sighs. "Thanks for taking care of that, sis. These Purrloin walk on their hind legs! That's not normal!" He exclaims as he returns his Kricketune and Lickilicky into their pokeballs.

"It's a Galar thing." You reply, before you squint your eyes at him, "Are you high?"

"Me? High? No, of course not. I've been clean for years, sis. Years."

"Right, okay. Come on then, let's go. It's getting late."

"Sure, sure. I'm so happy you called me." He gushes, as you both begin your trek down the beaten path of the Wild Area that will lead you to Hammerlocke where you will get the train; Glenn quickly falls into the same pace as you, folding his arms behind his head - which he does all the time but suddenly it reminds you of Raihan.

Glenn is your foster brother and a self-proclaimed Pokemaniac, choosing to dress up as random pokemon depending on his mood. A week ago he was a Bidoof, a few days ago he was a Weedle. Today, he is a Galarian Ponyta, a pokemon he's been on the lookout for a long time since he read about them. He still stays in Johto somewhere in Mahogany Town, but he likes to visit you a lot on sporadic occasions and luckily for you when you called him - he was in the Wild Area. You've asked Glenn to help you choose an outfit for your date. He was responsible for picking out the black dress from Goldenrod department store - the one you wore to the club - so overall, he's good with fashion and naturally you called him first because you trust his opinions.

He was also a berry addict. Specifically, the lum. Yes, that one. Out of all the berries he could get addicted to, it had to be that one. He got addicted to lum berries at a young age and spent much of his youth going to shady places, throwing most of his cash to dealers just to snort some lum dust. He’s been clean for years, or he says, but sometimes you’re not sure. There's no telltale sign right now - no red, watery eyes and there's no distinct smell of the lum either. You guess you have to take his word for it.

"Wait, before I forget - " Glenn removes his Ponyta hood, leaving himself in his white sweater and slacks with the pink-blue edges, and he proceeds to take out two pokeballs, handing them to you, "I brought your pokemon."

You grin widely as you take the pokeballs off him. "Thanks!!" You'll let your pokemon out later, and stuff their capsules into the pocket of your bag.

"I guess the only pokemon you're missing from your team would be a Goodra, Dragonite, Kommo-o and a Hydreigon, right?"

"And a Dragapult." You remind him.

"Why do you want one so badly? Is it because they look like they're so done with life and shit?"

"Uh, no, but - hey, what happened to that Dreepy trader?"

"He said he wanted your Metagross in exchange."

You make a face. "NO."

And he snickers, crosses his arms over his chest. "Yep, I called the trade off.”

"Thanks. So, what pokemon were you looking for this time?"

"A Vespiqueen, but no luck." He says with a sigh.

"You should've dressed up as a Combee."

"I wanted to but I couldn't make the costume in time." He sighs again, "Anyway, this isn't about me. This is about you. How's it goin'? How's Galar? You got a date, right?"

You immediately throw your glance to the ground and kick a stone away from your path, cheeks going pink. "...Yeah."

"Who's the lucky dude?"

"Um...it's Raihan."

Glenn's eyes bulges for a split second but then his expression returns to normal. "Oh. Figures. He loves dragon Pokemon and you use some dragon pokemon, so you got something in common." He scratches his chin next, "Raihan, huh. He's a bit of a celebrity around here; didn't know you would like his type."

You blush furiously in response. "I don't know if I should go."

"Huh? But you called me for help, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then you should go. Give it a shot. Ahhh, my little sis is going on a date with the hot-blooded dragon tamer. That's adorable." Glenn reaches over and pulls at your cheek affectionately.

You smile awkwardly in response. There's more to it, of course, but you're reluctant to tell Glenn the entire truth. Once you're at Hammerlocke, you take the train to Wyndon - even though you're heading there tomorrow - and upon arrival, you and Glenn head to the boutique. Raihan's asked you out on short notice and you're sure there's nothing in your current wardrobe, so the Wyndon boutique will have to do. Compared to the boutiques in the region, the Wyndon store offers some of the best selection of clothing. Stepping inside, you're greeted with hundreds of clothing racks and your eyes are assaulted with dozens of colourful garb, shoes and handbags.

As you grimace under your breath, Glenn rolls his sleeves up and grins widely. "Right, let's get you sorted!"

...

Wyndon, next day.

Needless to say, you didn't get a very good night's sleep and when you had heard a Corviknight crowing, indicating it was morning, you groaned and sat up in bed, glancing over to the folded clothes on the stool which you had bought yesterday with Glenn's help. It was rather exciting at first and shopping with Glenn is very much fun and games, but now...not so much. The initial excitement is gone now, replaced with an underlying sense of dread. You're afraid. Why are you doing this? What will you say to Raihan when you see him? What will you talk about during your time together? What if it gets awkward? What if he thinks you're boring as hell and that you have nothing in common? You smacked a hand to your forehead as you slipped out of bed, full of regret and feeling sick to the stomach; it's not like you agreed to go on the date either but he's expecting you to turn up now and you're too afraid to message him saying you don't want to go anymore.

Glenn said he could wait with you at the Wyndon pokemon centre for moral support which you didn't think was necessary; it doesn't make you feel any better.

Yet, you're waiting in the Pokemon Centre; Glenn stands at the rounded table, going through photos on his phone whilst you peep outside the double glazed window. Here you are, dressed and dolled up. It took you almost three hours to get ready. You look the same as you did at the nightclub but the makeup's a bit toned down, especially with your eyeliner. There's still ten minutes to go until the date officially starts but your indication of Raihan's arrival is a cacophony of manic female screaming and cheering. People are pointing to a specific direction so you follow where their fingers are pointing to and you see that Raihan has appeared, having just arrived at the large fountain in the town square; he smiles and waves at a few shrieking fans - he's donned in a casual black t-shirt and denims (and looking very much like the way he did at that talkshow) - before he abruptly steps towards the fountain and plops himself down on an empty, dry space, bringing out his Rotom phone. High above and the sky is turning grey, indicating that it will be raining soon.

Your eyes grow wide as your Rotom phone buzzes and he flies out; you have received a photo from Raihan - he just snapped a photo of himself at the fountain and has sent it to you. The caption below says:

Doofus: I'm here :)

You don't know how to reply, your feet suddenly anchored to the spot. "...He's actually here." You croak out. "He's here, Glenn."

Glenn doesn't look up from his phone. “You thought he wasn't serious? That he was playing a cruel joke on you? This isn't prom night or high school or whatever.”

“Y-yeah...”

"Well, now that he’s here and obviously very serious, what are you waiting for? Go to him."

You shake your head furiously, taking a few steps back from the window. "Um...not yet."

"Huh?" He looks up, confused. "You're gonna make him wait?"

"...It's not that. I...I don't think I can do this."

"What do you mean?"

"This is a bad idea."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"You can't keep letting whatever you're scared of stop you from doing things, sis." Glenn says, but you don't leave the safety of the pokemon centre.

As the minutes tick by, you see Raihan occasionally checking his phone, talking to some fans who would go up to him for selfies and autographs. Once that's done, he would look up and around and check his phone again for updates from your end (but obviously there's none because you didn't reply to his message). You hear a loud booming clap of thunder overhead and it occurs to you that the weather's getting worse and soon, the window becomes streaked with droplets.

"Look, it’s raining now." Glenn adds, "And it's pretty bad. Go and get him. Go get your man."

You stare at Raihan, who is still rooted in his seat on the fountain. He hasn't moved at all. Glancing at your phone, you realise you've left Raihan waiting for almost ten minutes. And as Glenn pointed out, it's beginning to rain heavily.

"Shit. You're right. Goddamnit, he's gonna get sick." You utter under your breath, "Glenn, I'm going."

"Whoohoo! Good luck! And most importantly, have fun!”

You pull your umbrella from your bag and open it as you rush out of the pokemon centre, running over to the fountain. Raihan doesn't notice you coming and since he hasn't moved from his spot at all, he's very drenched; once you arrive, you hold the umbrella over his head and he promptly looks up.

"Sorry, I'm late!" You exclaim, "Well, no, I wasn't late, I was - uh, never mind, I-I have kept you waiting and for that I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

He stares at you from head to toe; you're wearing a long-sleeved shirt dress with a belt and black shorts underneath, along with matching black chelsea boots. After he's had a good look at you, he immediately stands up and envelopes you into a tight hug. The umbrella jiggles in your hand and almost threatens to fall but you manage to hold onto it. Despite being completely wet, his body is warm.

"It's okay, I didn't wait for long." He says, as he nuzzles you affectionately. He sounds happy.

What a doofus, he clearly did wait for a long time.

"You came." He adds.

"O-of course I'd come." You utter, and you exhale quietly under your breath as he bundles you up in his arms and gives you a tight squeeze. "...Sorry." You mumble again, throwing your gaze to the side as your chin rests on his broad shoulder. You can't help but apologise again and again.

His arms lower from your waist, large hands resting on the sides of your legs and the contact makes you blush heavily, your fingers clinching the damp fabric of his t-shirt. “Your outfit is too short.” He murmurs as he strokes the sides of your bare thighs before he slips his fingers underneath the material of your shorts - he’s almost at your ass - and he succeeds in sending a few shivers down your spine.

”You don’t like it?”

“No,” He mutters, “But it’s dangerous to wear something like that in front of me.”

Honestly, it’s quite a tacky thing to say but somehow he can get away with it because your face ends up a thousand shades of red before you defiantly turn your head to the side. “S-shut up.” You mumble as he leans over to press his lips over your cheek and you close your eye as he begins to trail little kisses over the side of your face. What were you expecting? Heck, you are deliberately wearing a sexy outfit for this date.

He moves towards your mouth and presses a deep kiss on your lips which kind of takes you off guard but before you can react, he pulls away and says, "What do you want to do first?"

"You're soaked." You squeak out, "I'm sorry."

He plants his hand atop your head, ruffling your head as he grins at you in response.

"Okay, I'm here and you're here. Your obsessed fan could also be here and watching us this very moment. What the hell are we doing, being in the wide open like this? This is bad. We should not be doing this." Glancing around, you see some of the Wyndon locals running for shelter from the rain, disappearing into their homes or nearby restaurants which now look pretty full. You're not too sure if it's a good idea if you should go with Raihan to such a busy place. You ponder to yourself briefly and it hits you. "Never mind; I have an idea."

....

Glimwood Tangle.

"Ahhhh. This is so much better." You sigh, wiping your brow with relief, "It's nice, dark and quiet here. No-one will see us."

The Glimwood Tangle is the perfect place - maybe not so much for a date, but if Raihan insists in spending some time with you, this is a good option. It's not raining here either, thank goodness. Of course, you're just a few paths away from Ballonlea as well, so you guess you could invite Raihan for tea or something nearer the end (and not for sex, nooo... and you hope he would respect that too). You took the Corviknight taxi - which was a bad idea because it was really cramped inside and you were both basically rubbing shoulders - which he didn't object to or anything, in fact he pretty much wanted you to sit in his lap but luckily for you and unlucky for him, there was just enough space.

You found the entire taxi ride darn near claustrophobic and he had his hand planted over your bare leg the entire time so you're relieved to have finally arrived at the woods - even when you exited the taxi, he let you go out first and the damn cramped cubicle meant when you both stood up and turned, your ass basically grinded invitingly against his hips. If it couldn't have been anymore damn obvious, there's tension between you and Raihan and you're not sure what will emerge from this.

In the woods, you look around whilst Raihan tries to get a signal on his phone. There's not many people around at all and as you mentioned, it's dark and quiet. You prefer this more than any other town or city. You take one step forwards and -

SQUELCH.

Throwing your glance down, you see your foot is stuck in thick mud, fast. "Motherfu - “

Raihan’s watching you.

”-Fuh...Furret. These are brand new."

He chuckles as you try to pull and tug your leg free but to no avail. Raihan steps over, invulnerable to the mud (but of course he is) and reaches for you, scooping you up with one hand under the back of your knees and the other around your shoulder and with unimaginable strength, he hoists you out - but now you're stuck in his hold, being carried bridal style which embarrasses you greatly.

"What are you doing?"

"Saving my princess." He replies cheerfully as he carries you through the woods. You blush the entire way; when you're away from the muddy terrain and back onto the path, you both find a large glowing mushroom and decide to sit down and Raihan looks around inquisitively. You get the feeling that he doesn't come here often, and you wonder if he has even come here before at all. He doesn't look used to his surroundings.

"Are you okay?" You ask, as Raihan looks up at the non-existent sky. "Is it too quiet here? Too dark? Some people find the Glimwood Tangle unnerving."

"It’s not so bad here.”

"Yeah, but people are rumoured to disappear or get lost for days. Weeks, even. So, not many people like passing here and as you can see, it's really dark. Like it's almost noon but it looks like it's night-time right now. It can really mess with your biological clock," You muse out loud, "N-not that I chose to stay near here because of those reasons, of course. “

You go silent; it occurs to you that he was observing you as you babbled and now you’re scared to death that you’d put him off with your ramblings. Did it make any sense? Or was it all garbage? Why did you say those things in the first place anyway? You couldn’t help it - it was like verbal diarrhoea. Have you made things awkward now?

As you worry, he asks, “Do you live in Ballonlea or Stow-on-Side?"

"Ballonlea. You can see my cottage over there." You point to the left where between some giant, neon mushrooms, you can see the roof of your cottage in-between the stems.

"Nice." He comments with a grin, before he takes off his orange sweatband which is damp with rain and as he wrings it dry, you get a rare view of Raihan without his headband, revealing the sides of his shaved head and his dreadlocks. You can feel your cheeks heating up as you look at his rugged side profile and angled jaw, the amount of manly appeal he oozes is enough to reduce you to a blushing mess. He's still fairly damp, his black t-shirt clinging to his muscles and you can see the lean outline of his biceps. Looks like he works out a lot...hot damn, you should've paid more attention to the training videos he posts up online. There's a reason they're insanely popular with fans.

You try to focus on the topic at hand here, clearing your throat, "My pokemon like it a lot here, except Espie. She prefers Johto."

"What other pokemon do you have?"

"I have a Drifloon; he's been with me for a long time. And I have a Poliwag. He refuses to evolve though, so we tied an Everstone around his tail. He lives in my bathroom."

Raihan chuckles again. Surprisingly....the conversation's been pretty fluid and he's extremely easy-going. “I got something for you.”

”Huh?”

Delving into his pocket, he takes out a pokeball with a ribbon tied neatly around the middle. Fancy. “This is for you.”

You don’t move. Your gut feels like it’s twisted into a tight knot.

”Go on, it’s yours.”

You nervously accept the pokeball from him and he gestures for you to open it, releasing whatever is inside. You press the button and a red light flashes briefly before the Pokemon appears. Your eyes widen at once. It’s a round purplish-pink blob that blinks it’s little eyes at you before opening its mouth wide. It makes a gurgling noise and your jaw drops.

”A Goomy!!?!” You exclaim, and you can’t help the smile that blossoms on your face; Raihan watches, grinning at your reaction. “But...why? You didn’t have to.”

“He needs a home and I know you’ll take good care of him.”

As the Goomy looks between you and Raihan, you hold your arms out. It slowly slithers over to you and you lift it up and into your arms. Uh, okay.... now your clothes are feeling a little damp. There’s a slime trail over your front and as Goomy gurgles happily, you smile cheerfully at it and rub at one of it’s little horns.

”Oh, so cute...” You can’t wait to raise him into a Goodra that will destroy anything and everything. Oh yeah. Turning to Raihan, you grin, “Thanks. I’ll look after him.”

He grins at you in response as you return your new Goomy into the pokeball. Shit, you didn’t get anything for Raihan. But his gift was totally unexpected! You weren’t expecting any presents!!! What are you going to do?

“What's it like being a Pokemon Breeder?" He asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"O-oh, well, I like it very much, I get to see lots of pokemon everyday. I look after a lot of pokemon everyday." You babble again, "I look after the babies, I look after the eggs, and I deliver eggs. For EV training, I only accept up to five pokemon; I take them to places with specific pokemon to battle for stat gain."

He rubs his chin in thought, "Where did you learn how to EV train?"

It's then you throw your glance to the ground and bring your knees to your chest. "....When I was a kid, I brought Beldum to Show and Tell. My classmates laughed at him and said mean things so I wanted to train him up to become stronger. I took him to the mountains and we battled a lot of Trapinch. Along the way, I noticed his attack stats kept increasing as I levelled him up." You mumble, "I never forgot that moment, not once."

"I know." He says nonchalantly, "You told me."

You whip your head to him in confusion as he smiles coolly at you. "When did I ever tell you that?"

"Didn't you watch the rest of the video?"

Your cheeks go red. "Uh........No." You utter, after a pregnant pause, "...No, I...I didn’t."

His expression gradually dissolves into one of disappointment and his face crumbles slightly. Oh shit, now that you think about it... you didn't finish watching it. You scratch your elbow, pondering.

"What's it like being a gym leader?" You ask timidly, and also wanting to change the subject, "And why did you decide to become one?"

"Hah, good question." He replies, "I like battling and training pokemon. Being a gym leader means I constantly get challenged by people from all across the region; there's always something new to look forward to everyday and my pokemon can get stronger. One day, when we're strong enough, we'll beat Leon."

You admire his positivity, you really do. And his energy. You give him a small smile as he grins at you again and a comfortable silence settles between the two of you; inwardly, you’re quite happy that the date seems to be going in a good direction. You muse silently whilst Raihan takes out his phone and attempts to take a selfie of himself with a green mushroom behind him. It's too dark for him to show up properly, however. You're about to say something when you hear a rustle in the grass below you and you turn your head to the source of the noise.

“Did you hear that??" You whisper, leaning over to see who or what is making the ruckus; when a pokemon emerges, your eyes widen and you unconsciously grab his arm. "Raihan, look, it's a Ponyta!"

"Hm?" He peers over the edge of the mushroom beside you.

As you point excitedly to the grass below, the small horse pokemon trots out from the undergrowth and glances around cautiously before it begins to feast on the grass. "Damn, all my pokemon are too strong. They'll just kill it - I mean, make it, er, faint - in one move."

"I'll catch it for you." Raihan says; he stuffs his headband into his pocket, hops off his seat and drops to the ground carefully and quietly before reaching for you with arms outstretched.

You swallow down slightly and gingerly slide off the mushroom, holding onto his shoulders for support; he slips his arms around your waist securely and effortlessly hoists you down and when your feet touch the ground, he's still holding you tightly and your noses are almost touching. You mutter your thanks as he lets go of you slowly before reaching for an ultra ball that's nestled behind his back. Approaching the Ponyta, he tosses the ultra ball and a large pokemon emerges - it's his Sandaconda. The Ponyta, startled, decides to face it head on. You look at it's multicoloured mane that is a beautiful shade of mixed pastel blue and pink. So adorable!!!

"Go, Sandaconda! Use headbutt!" He instructs, and the sand snake pokemon proceeds to ram itself at the pokemon. It didn't get a chance to retaliate at all! The Ponyta drops to the ground, not exactly knocked out but reeling from the impact. Weakened, Raihan grins and then grabs a spare pokeball from his pocket and throws it at the downed pokemon. You're surprised he's helping you catch it, and when the ball clicks shut successfully after wiggling around for three times, you watch numbly as Raihan collects it, returning his pokemon at the same time. With the pokeball in hands, he heads back to your direction and hands you the capsule. "There you go. She's all yours."

He’s surprising you a lot today. And he’s gotten you another Pokemon.

"Thanks, Raihan."

“Whatever Pokemon you want, I’ll get it for you.”

”You don’t have to.”

”I want to.”

Your cheeks flame up immediately.

”What’s next on your list?”

You think about Dragapult and an image of the ghost slash dragon type appears in your mind. Oh, Glenn is right. Dragapult really does look like he is done with life and shit. Now you really want one. “Dreepy....” You mutter, in a slight zombie trance.

”Okay, I’ll get you one.”

”Wha - ?! Raihan, I didn’t mean it, I was just - seriously, don’t. It’s okay.”

As you splutter, clearly flustered by his generosity, he chuckles. You give him a timid smile, throwing your glance to the pokeball in your hands, then back up at him. He hasn't looked away from you at all. It grows silent for a while between the two of you where you're both staring at each other - to your surprise, you’re able to maintain the eye contact without wanting to look or turn away.

Maybe it’s because you’re anticipating him to kiss you and as predicted, Raihan slowly begins to lean in. You freeze on the spot then, watching as his face comes closer and closer and your heart beats harder. It’s that giddy Butterfrees-in-the-stomach feeling again but this time, it’s strangely pleasant. His gaze lands on your lips and when he finally nears you; he pauses and flicks his glance up at you as though he’s waiting for something. Your permission, perhaps? When you don’t move, he closes the gap and gently pecks you on the lips, reaching for your hand and squeezing it. You force yourself not to move and discover you’re able to stand still. The corner of your lip tugs upwards against his mouth which causes him to grin in response as he smooches you again quickly.

When you both pull away, you mutter, "...Shall we head to Ballonlea?"

"Sure."

You place the pokeball with the newly captured Ponyta into your bag beside Goomy’s and once that's done, Raihan begins to guide you out of the woods. Hand in hand, you both walk towards the direction of Ballonlea where he would occasionally nudge you playfully using his shoulder and you would nudge him back. The only source of light comes from the glowing mushrooms but it's really relaxing to be here. You see some other pokemon in your path, including some Shiinotic and Morelull who all hide away from you, disappearing into the darkness. Up ahead and you see some gym challenger being pranked on by Impidimps. Soon, the town comes into view and you lead the way to your house where you see a cardboard box on your doorstep.

Huh, that wasn't there before...and it couldn't be mail, either.

Stopping directly in front of it, you and Raihan stare at the box and then look at each other. It says 'Open Me' and there's an awful stench emitting from inside. That wipes the smile clean off your face; Raihan steers you behind him and you quickly grab his arm. "Wait! No, don't open it. Call Looker."

He eyes the box cautiously, "...Yeah. You're right." Just as Raihan pulls out his phone, his screen flashes, indicating a call from the detective you had just mentioned. "You called at a great time."

"What happened?" You can hear Looker's gravelly voice from the receiver.

"I'm with her. There's a weird box outside her doorstep."

"Okay, I'm heading over. Don't open it."

"What do you think is inside?"

"...A dead pokemon, or parts of one, probably."

There's a brief silence before Raihan hangs up.

"A dead pokemon?!" You exclaim in shock; Raihan returns his phone and turns to you, then encircles his arms around your waist wordlessly and holds you tight against him; he's strong, you can't wriggle free from his embrace. "Raihan, we shouldn't have - this person knows where I live! And now this... this is awful!”

Raihan doesn't say anything except press his lips against your forehead in an effort to calm you down whilst rubbing your arm soothingly.

The wait for Looker is excruciatingly long.

#raihan x reader #Raihan x you #raihan #pokemon #pokemonshield #pokemonsword #pokemonswordandshield #jeralee #fanfic #fic #archiveofmyown #wallflower #kibana

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lunaschild2016 · 4 years ago

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Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Divergent - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Eric (Divergent)/Original Female Character(s), Four | Tobias Eaton/Tris Prior, Zeke Pedrad/Shauna, Marlene/Uriah Pedrad, Lynn (Divergent)/Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character/Original Female Character Characters: Eric (Divergent), Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s), Tris Prior, Four | Tobias Eaton, Zeke Pedrad, Shauna (Divergent), Lauren (Divergent), Max (Divergent), Jeanine Matthews, Peter Hayes (Divergent), Tori Wu, George Wu, Amar (Divergent), Harrison (Divergent), Johanna Reyes, Andrew Prior, Caleb Prior, Natalie Prior, Hana Pedrad Summary:

*Formerly Catching Silver

Sylvan 'Silver' Bryant has a Dauntless heart, an Erudite mind, Amity kindness, and an Abnegation's ability to be selfless even if she has to sacrifice something of herself. She always knew it was Dauntless where she belonged but living up to her family's legacy there was another matter. Will she be able to overcome a hidden past and step out of their shadows when she finally joins her four older brothers in the faction of the brave? Will her feelings for her brother's best friend, Eric, get in her way or will he help her to finally heal the scars of her past? Eric Coulter had no regrets about leaving Erudite and his so-called family behind him. With fierce determination, he achieved his goal of becoming a leader of the faction and started his own legacy with the Bryant brothers as his allies and friends. Will the bonds of brotherhood be broken when the secret of his feelings for their precious sister is revealed or will it give him the family he never dared hoped for?

Chapter 2

Eric

My footsteps echo loudly against the rough stone walls as I make my way deeper into the bowels of the Dauntless compound. The air is chilly enough that I'm glad I didn't bother removing my heavier winter jacket and gloves after my return from a meeting in Erudite. In the hotter months of the year, this same cold air is a relief whenever I have had to make my way down here, but it's winter right now and it just makes the cold seep right down to my bones.

I don't know how people stood this cold back when Dauntless was first founded and resided in most of these subterranean places and I'm thankful we don't have to anymore.

I've been in Dauntless for a little over a year now but I'm still now quite as used to the compound as I should be by now. Every time I have to return to Erudite for a meeting it always feels like the culture shock I got when I first stepped foot in my new faction.

Before coming here I never gave actually living here much thought. I didn't contemplate mundane things like if the buildings Dauntless occupy have heating for winter or air conditioning for summer. I just took for granted that they would because Erudite did. There are a million other little things just like that which make big differences in day-to-day life in this faction. So much so that I'm still discovering things I didn't know even now.

Not that it's a bad thing, mind you. I fucking love being in Dauntless despite the huge differences between my old faction and new. I would be hard-pressed to describe what's so great about it but I guess it boils down to the fact that it's real here. There's no need for the fake smiles and the overly polished appearances among the members of this faction. Generally what you see is what you get and we prefer it that way, something that would never happen in Erudite.

There it's always about plots within plots hid behind different veneers of polite smiles and silver tongues. The hours I have to spend there are torture but are necessary for now. I'm still having to play by their rules in order to get what we need for Dauntless.

Although I hope that after today I won't have to do that for much longer.

I walk down a final hallway and see the door to the room I'm headed in front of me. The location of this room isn't where one would expect it to be. It's not located in the same section of the compound that the administrative part of the faction operates out of. It's not even in the section of the compound that houses all of the tech Dauntless uses as their command central.

This office is located in the bowels of Dauntless in a section of the compound that is hardly traveled anymore. Not since the faction spread out and claimed more buildings in the sector we are located for things like housing and shops.

I stand rigidly in front of a door, hesitating for a few seconds before I square my jaw, raise my hand and deliver three rapid raps.

I've barely lowered my arm when the command to enter is barked out. I take a deep breath and open the door to one of the smaller conference rooms that the leaders of Dauntless use for matters that need more security. It might seem paranoid to have this but when it comes to averting potential government coups and the possibility of mass genocide during the said coup, every pre-caution can and will be taken in this faction.

I nod in greeting to those who are already present as I shut the door behind me. A wave of warmth washes over me, drawing out a sigh of pleasure as I move towards my seat and begin to divest rid myself of my gloves and jacket.

The five people already seated give me the time to get settled in my chair but Max speaks up as I start to pull things from my messenger bag.

"I take it you were able to get evidence regarding their plans?"

"I believe you should take a look at what I have and make the determination for yourselves," I reply with a grimace as I start handing stuff over for the five senior leaders present to look over.

Max, Harrison, Clarence, Victoria, and Nate each take a set of documents to go over, switching out as they finish them off. Their expressions darkening with each new thing that's revealed. I watch Nate intently, knowing how close to home a few of the things I've uncovered are. I can tell the second he gets to one specific bit because his head snaps up and his eyes bore into mine. My jaw is tight as I try to contain my own rage and I only give a short terse nod.

After several more minutes of tense quiet Max tosses the last paper down with a sigh. "I would say you got evidence of something just not what I was expecting. Before we even get into this new stuff, give us a status report on their progress so far in building their own army and if it can be traced back to any of the higher-ups in Erudite leadership."

The report starts out like all these official reports have so far with a recap of the events chronicling the escalation of events. I've gotten so used to doing this I don't have the nervous jitters I had at the start. Even during those first two unofficial meetings when I was still in initiation. I waited all of two weeks before I requested to talk to all the Bryant brothers about the stunt my parents pulled and what they suggested. Two days after that I had another unofficial meeting, this time with just Nate and Max.

That was about the time that Erudite put a motion forward during a meeting, requesting to have Dauntless provide three units to be transferred and stationed to their sector on a permanent basis. Meaning they would live and work there and be technically under Erudite command. That was shot down almost immediately for two reasons. The first reason was that we, Dauntless, honestly do not have the manpower to spare. We're already strained to our limits covering the areas we do as well as keeping guards on permanent stations along our cities borders. The second reason was that Marcus Eaton has a well-known dislike of Erudite and tends to try and get anything they request dismissed and in this case, it was easily voted down.

I knew my parents weren't happy I picked Dauntless and I probably made them look bad to their friends, so I thought this might be an attempt at getting me back there. It turned out I was mostly wrong. They knew the proposal had a larger possibility of being denied than it did being accepted, but on the off chance it wasn't, they would pull strings to make sure I was the one sent to Erudite.

Their real goal, however, was the counter-proposal of being allowed to create their own security with one or two Dauntless to help properly train the chosen Erudite. Their reasoning for this was the increased amount of thefts from their sector by factionless. Since they had sufficient evidence to prove the need for this and proposed a reasonable compromise to the initial request, it was approved.

Only the three of us knew that there was another reason for forming the group and Max granted my request to use my parent's connection to investigate our theories, which has been slow going.

After passing initiation and ranking second place I was offered one of the spots for the leadership track which has required training of it's own to be completed before anything else. I busted my ass and pulled double shifts to get done what I needed to get done in order for me to start working on earning a spot as a junior leader, and hopefully, that will lead to me getting a position as a senior leader when one becomes available.

My becoming a leader is a large part of what's been holding up my progress in taking Erudite down. I've had to gain trust and prove that I can be a worthwhile ally for them and my lack of a senior leader position has halted that somewhat until recently.

That brings me to now and my current report.

"I believe that I've made progress in gaining their trust after the most recent proposal was accepted by the council that can help further their plans in creating their 'security team'. I informed them of the requirements for me to gain a senior leadership position is to have one or several successful projects that help the faction in some fashion. I advised them I had an idea for one that would help me gain that position while also helping to achieve the primary Erudite goal." I state before I pass out the relevant documentation regarding this newest change in the city.

"They were running into issues being able to find enough suitable candidates for their security forces that are already members and were turning to those who are due to choose within the next year or so and not finding their options much better, at least not by Dauntless standards." "My suggestion was that we could go ahead and start training with the members who are suitable enough to meet our immediate needs then expand the search through all factions. I was able to give them a timeline and plan that will have to be taken in stages and with the first of those plans being easily put into action I was able to gain even more of their trust."

"So they truly believe that mandating physical education courses run by Dauntless will give them the candidates they want?" Harrison asks me, alternating between looking over the paper and at me.

"I've managed to convince them it will increase the physical suitability at the very least and there is data to support that theory. Erudite already hosts several clubs through the school that are sports-oriented but attendance is smaller than it could be and is mostly just the Erudite who know about it and are interested in those types of things. There have been the stray Dauntless and Candor who have been accepted but those are rare. It was easy for me to point out that the majority of dependents who take part in those types of activities generally have transferred to Dauntless when their time came, by offering them another option they could prevent that."

In this room, it didn't need to be said that none of us had any intention of ever letting that happen. It also didn't need to be said outside of this room that the only people we planned on benefiting in that respect was ourselves, Dauntless. Everything I stated is true. The people that take those kinds of opportunities usually end up coming here. By making physical education a mandate we just might increase the number of transfers even more. I just used that truth and allowed the group in Erudite to think my real motivation is to give them, and me by default, their army.

"I see that you've added our choices for instructors that we discussed prior to presenting this to them but I also see some other things added that weren't there before. What are these possible additions to the curriculum mentioned in their debriefing?"

"Actually, I believe I can answer that since I was the one that suggested Eric might want to include them. We all know that we are using this as a method to put a stop to Erudite's plans but there's no reason we can't use it to our advantage as well and get things put into place that will help us in the long run. Physical education being required is a great first step but that won't necessarily motivate kids to go Dauntless without further incentives. I thought back to how my parents kept six children motivated to keep in shape and compared that to things we already do here and came up with a few suggestions."

"Do you have a list of these?" Max asked with definite interest and an almost knowing look in his eyes.

"We wanted to go over them before I presented Erudite with them to throw their weight behind the curriculum proposal."

"Good idea," Clarence grunted then waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "One we can address later. For now, what progress have you made in finding out how high up the chain this thing goes."

"The highest I can get proof of links a brother-in-law for the Department of R&R being involved. None of the advisors closest to the leaders or the leaders themselves can be proven to be involved in this other than maybe having made a comment or another that might seem supportive. Despite that, I know that Jeanine Matthews is at least an instigator but proving that would be next to impossible."

I hear grunts of disgust and nod my head while Nate mutters darkly before sighing and shrugging. "As I said at the beginning of this, we shouldn't get our hopes up about tagging her. She's always in the middle of things but can never be pinned down with anything other than voicing her opinions, which isn't illegal. But that's how she gets things done, she'll drop a comment here or suggestion there and people fall over themselves to do whatever it takes to get in her good graces and make her happy."

I only nod in agreement, because this is exactly what's going on with my parents right now. They are doing everything they can to get into her inner circle. This brings me to the next bit of information I've been able to obtain.

"That's exactly what I need to report about next. During the last meeting with my parents, they made a few comments that concerned me about building data regarding the divergent threat. Apparently, Jeanine has been overheard voicing concern and not being able to make a case regarding that without something to present to the council to prove the theory correct. That's not the first time I've heard the complaint but I believed nothing would be done about it until after they had at least gotten a security team together but I was wrong."

I point to the other files I handed them earlier. "Those are the documents I was able to secure after accessing my parent's personal files. They are already running tests of Erudite subjects under different guises but they seem to be targeting the school-age children the most. Since it isn't unusual for kids to be given multiple tests each school year, replacing one of the existing ones with another one will most likely go unnoticed. They have a target list of those they are most interested in subjecting to these tests. In addition, I believe my parents are doing their own off the books tests and experiments. I didn't have the resources to crack the file, but I found one that I'm pretty sure would be the data from those."

"Alright," Max says after a pregnant pause while everyone digested this information. "We need to make some plans about how to handle this new development. We've been careful to in limiting knowledge of the operation inside and outside of the faction but this will require broadening it. We need to make sure to do this by the book and document everything as well as bringing in others we trust outside of the factions. Nate, can we count on Gideon and Selene to help on the front with Erudite?"

"Of course," He replies firmly.

"Clarence, what about Amity?"

"Johanna would be the best one to go to but it might require more to convince her to take a hard stance. If we could find out more regarding those experiments and what it involves...that might get her on board."

Max nodded gravely and looked over at Victoria next. "What about Candor?"

"Jack would be the best one to approach but he will also be the hardest to convince. He would say that an investigation of that magnitude and with the potential ramifications needs hard proof and not just circumstantial or hearsay. What we've already been able to gather so far will go a long way to getting him to at least hear us out fairly."

"Harrison?" Max calls the oldest member of the five leaders and doesn't even need to voice the question before the older man harumphs then sighs.

"Abnegation is going to be a nightmare to deal with, Max. Letting Marcus Eaton anywhere near this would be a monumental mistake and might just be the advent that brings on the civil unrest we are worried about. If he gets anywhere near this he will turn it into an all-out war against Erudite, one that we can't afford nor do we need. The problem is there is no way to do what will need to be done without bringing Abnegation into things and that will mean he will too."

His admission was something that's been on my mind and I had been kicking around an idea but I'm not sure how well it will go over with one of the people involved.

"Unless a way can be found to muzzle him before then." The words slip out before I really allow myself to think about them. All heads turn to me and Max looks at me quizzically then motions me to continue. "There was a certain rumor about Marcus Eaton that I know everyone here knows is actually true. If he could be convinced to come forward and substantiate those rumors it could work in our favor. We could just use that to make Marcus go along with things but I would suggest getting him removed from his position for abuse of power. There's no way he didn't use his position to hide his abuse of his son not to mention the questionable death of his wife. His removal might allow someone else a bit more reasonable to step in although I don't know who it would be."

"Andrew Prior," Nate responds while rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "He's not exactly pleasant, has a real holier than thou thing going on but he also is very honest and intelligent. There have been things he's stepped forward to get passed through that Marcus was very vocally opposed to, like the care centers."

"I don't care for him myself either, but when it matters he usually can be counted on to stand up for what's right and better for the city instead of cowering to Marcus." Max agrees. "That being said I won't force the boy to bring charges against his father but I can agree that someone should address the issue with him. Maybe tell him how it will help not only Dauntless but the city as well."

I see a few of them glance at me as Nate smirks at me and I shake my head vehemently. "It would be a very bad idea for me to try and talk to him about this. Four and I have put our differences aside but there's still some bitterness from our initiation. The fact that I used his situation with his father against him in our fight will still be fresh in his mind. If anyone would be able to get through to him it would be Amar. That's who he really looks up to and is closest to here."

"Alright, I'll make a note to talk to Amar about that when I talk to him about heading up the group who are going to be teachers of the physical education department of the school. Nate and Eric, I want you to get with him as well to go over the curriculum we want to see introduced there. Clarence, we need to come up with something that can get Eric access to those files. That needs to be a priority in order for us to know what we're up against and to get the other factions on board."

"Copy," Nate confirms while I nod and Clarence grunts in agreement.

"I think about covers things for now unless anyone can think of anything else?" Max asks while looking around the table. Seeing no one has anything to add he dismisses the meeting.

Nate gets up and walks around to me and pauses long enough to quietly pass a final message. "Dinner in my apartment, I'll pass the word to the others."

"I'll be there," I assure him, knowing without having to ask what the subject will be at the dinner tonight. I knew how he would react when he saw the list of people that Erudite, specifically my parents, compiled of people they want to conduct tests and experiments on, especially the top two names on it. When I saw I had been hard-pressed not to give myself away.

My only consolation in restraining myself was the knowledge that I would make every last bastard pay for even thinking about laying a finger on either of the youngest Bryant children. Seeing those names...seeing her name...and imagining any harm being done did something to me. It wounded me deeply. It also drove away any of the small vestiges of feeling for the people who brought me into this world. As far as I am concerned Steven and Patricia Coulter are just two people who happen to have the same last name as I do.

That fact won't stop me from making sure they face justice for any crimes they commit...but if they harm Sylvan and Elijah...I'll make sure I'm the one delivering that justice to them personally.

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magioftheseas · 5 years ago

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Burdensome

Summary: Sometimes, Hanako gets annoyed that he's the only one of the group with secrets.

Rating: G

Warning: None, really. I guess implications to Hanako’s vague past?

Notes: I honestly wrote this just to see if I could come up with a simple enough idea that would then be made into a fairly short fic. I’m trying to get more productive in my writing, see, so sometimes I have to resort to methods like that. In fact, I was so fixated on the idea of completing this before the day was over (and I had like, two hours before it did) that I ended up missing the deadline for applying to a zine I wanted to apply to. Now THAT’S burdensome.

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

Commission? Donate?

The world is filled with secrets. He’s known from the beginning that there are a lot of things that are kept from others. Crushes, concerns, dreams, ambitions, motivations—the deepest aspects of a person were often the most hidden.

He knows this well, and yet—

Those two are a bit different.

“Hanako-kun, what’s up?” Yashiro would ask, and the young exorcist would also glance his way. They both had such wide, honest and open gazes. “You’ve been staring for a while.”

“I was thinking,” Hanako says, waving his hand with his usual smile. “You two are way too easygoing.”

“Coming from a spirit!” Minamoto bit back as Yashiro similarly protested.

“I have plenty of worries not in the least thanks to you!”

“That’s not what I mean,” Hanako laughed. “You two are also pretty naïve, aren’t you?”

“And what is that supposed to mean, Hanako?!”

“Yeah, Hanako-kun! What do you mean?!”

What do you think?

Irritation nips at him. His smile twists the slightest bit.

Normal people have secrets. Normal people have baggage that they wouldn’t share with the world. I’ve observed the students here enough to know that hasn’t changed over the decades. You two, on the other hand...

Open books. Both of them. Even with their torn pages.

“Never mind,” Hanako chirps. “I was just thinking.”

“I bet you were,” Minamoto huffed as Yashiro pouted.

“I swear, Hanako-kun. It wouldn’t kill you to be more honest with us sometimes. You’re way too secretive.” She does pause, however. “O-Of course, I only expect you to tell us things when you’re ready.”

“Yeah, what senpai said.”

Even with the verbal agreement, there is a flicker of aggravation in the young exorcist’s eyes. An open book. Hanako already knows what he’s thinking about. It’s obvious. Too obvious. Minamoto Kou was a simple man of simple concerns, after all. He wanted to be respected, but he wanted to protect those around him. His family, friends, Yashiro—and the other Mitsuba.

Even now, Tsukasa lingers between them like blood in the water. They’re both just too afraid to bite because matters could escalate and that wouldn’t be ideal when Yashiro’s always a factor. That—and Minamoto was kind. He and Yashiro were both kind people. There was that, too.

Kindness was often granted as a privilege. It shouldn’t have been such an easy, accessible resource.

It’s cumbersome—how much the two humans that Hanako is closest to just don’t act like normal humans.

Yashiro was tugging at Minamoto’s sleeve, and she sways him into resuming their cleaning. With a sweet and disarming smile, the matter is settled and discarded. It might not ever get brought up again, because these two aren’t the types to hold grudges.

They’re kind. They’re just very, very kind.

How infuriating.

“Is there a reason why you’re giving those two attitude all of a sudden?” Tsuchigomori asks him. “You’ve got them complaining to me about you, Honorable Seventh. And y’know—I can’t exactly reprimand you as your teacher anymore.”

“And yet, you’re reprimanding me,” Hanako pointed out, tucked between the curtains. “I assume you do want me to stop.”

“It’s just troublesome behavior,” Tsuchigomori says with an impassive shrug. “Troublesome for them, for you, for me. Rather than just bottling it up, you should just vent.”

“It is annoying,” Yako chirped up in the midst of grooming her tail. “Those brats are going to keep on whining and it’ll soon be troublesome for everyone.”

“Don’t think we asked your opinion, dumb fox,” Tsuchigomori muttered, to which she hissed back.

“It’s hard to nap peacefully when everyone is as gloomy as you!”

“It’s because,” Hanako spoke up. Immediately, Tsuchigomori turns to face him, ever attentive. “I’m frustrated.”

“With what, exactly?” Yako asked, muffled against her tail. “Don’t tell me you’ve gotten bored of them.”

“Oh no, they’re still plenty fun to mess with.” Hanako waved his hand. “However—don’t you think it’s weird? Yashiro and that boy are both so simple. They don’t really have any deep dark secrets.”

“They don’t,” Tsuchigomori confirmed. “As transparent and blatant as they come. Do you feel awkward, then? Like you don’t fit in? You’re already an apparition, Honorable Seventh.”

Even as a human, I wouldn’t have fit in with them. Even acting as a human, I had to distance myself from them.

“Keeping secrets may be natural, but it is a burden you must undertake if decided.” Tsuchigomori inhales, sighing out smoke. “Even so, don’t act out so much.”

“They’re both still bratty garbage humans,” Yako murmured, ever unimpressed. “Tasteless and tactless.”

“I’m sure you’d make tasty udon,” Hanako cheerfully remarked.

Yako snorted, but curled up into an unassuming ball all the same.

“Honorable Seventh.”

That smile on Hanako’s face remained, even when stared down by Tsuchigomori’s stern, knitted glare.

“Do those humans make you feel inferior?”

Yako’s ear twitched, but she mercifully kept any further commentary to herself.

“Maybe a little,” Hanako admitted, laughing. “I get it. I’ll apologize. I’m sorry for the trouble, sensei.”

Tsuchigomori didn’t look remotely reassured or convinced.

Haven’t you prodded a little too much already? I could still squash you like a bug.

Aha. Those thoughts sound like something Tsukasa would say.

Hanako leaves without another word.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

Yashiro speaks the second he slinks in. She’s not looking his way but her hands are fisting into her skirt.

“It’s not like I don’t understand—sometimes people have a lot more going on. I get frustrated, too, when I see Aoi able to laugh off guys confessing to her. Aoi’s really carefree. Sometimes I envy her so much that I get upset.”

Hanako blinks, tugging at his collar awkwardly.

“Yashiro...”

“I know!” she exclaims. “So don’t—don’t treat me as if I’m shallow just because I might not have as much going on as you do! I’ll have you know I have plenty going on!” She turns on him, fierce despite her tears. “I-I actually really want to have a bunch of rodents! And I want to have a huge garden! A-And not only to I want to marry a handsome boy—I also think I want kids! A-A boy and a girl! It’s too early but—who knows! Having beautiful children might be really, really fun! I don’t know—but I think about it! One time I dreamed about my own daughter making fun of me for my legs! And I woke up crying!”

She was still crying right now, in fact.

“I’m going to graduate and I still want to be friends with Aoi even though she’s inevitably going to an elite college that I could never dream of attending! I-I also want to make more friends. I-I heard that—once you get to college, people start caring a lot less about their appearances...! But that because everyone’s all matured, they’re still super attractive...!” Yashiro blubbers. “I-I’m gonna graduate, I’m gonna go to college, I’m gonna grow up, I’m gonna get my garden, my rodents, my husband, my children, and, and, and... I’m still going to visit you if I can... Because I don’t want you getting lonely. Even if Tsuchigomori-sensei teaches here forever, I—I’ll worry about you, Hanako-kun.” She sniffles. “I’ll worry...a lot. What if you completely go off the deep end without me and Kou-kun? I’m—so worried!”

“Are you saying I’ll become a villain out of loneliness?” Hanako asked, mildly offended, mildly amused. “I was lonely before I met you for a long time.”

“That might make it worse,” Yashiro mutters. “Losing your friends is awful, even if you were friendless before.”

Friendless. I wasn’t really friendless. That said. That said...

“The fact that you’re so compassionate really does irk me,” he said. “Yashiro—you’re way too kind. Please be careful.”

“Or I’ll be taken advantage of, you mean?” Yashiro’s frown deepened, her cheeks darker. “I’m not helpless, Hanako-kun. I’m not always going to need you to save me. I’ll do my best to manage on my own. As well as I can.”

“I believe you. After all, I have underestimated you in the past.”

“Hanako-kun...” Yashiro huffed and she stomped forward. Raising her hand, she furiously ruffled Hanako’s hair. “You’re so immature! Don’t act like you’re not!”

“H-Hey, Yashiro.”

She knocks off his hat so that she can ruffle him harder.

“Immature! Childish! Bratty! Meanie! Hanako-kun!”

“Y-Yashiro, cut it out!”

Yashiro finally laughs at him. Hanako glares back, but then, after a while, his expression twists.

“Sometimes, it’s so heavy I can’t move. I should be glad you can move about so freely.”

Yashiro shakes her head, smile strained but sympathetic.

“We’re friends, Hanako-kun. If you want me to shoulder the burden with you, all you have to do is ask.”

I won’t. I refuse.

But Yashiro does hug him, and it’s far too easy to fall into her embrace.

She really isn’t one to be underestimated.

“There, there,” Yashiro coos, petting his hair. “There, there. Just let Nene-nee help you.”

Hanako chortled.

“I’m half a century older than you.”

Yashiro chuckles.

“You’re still a child, Hanako-kun.”

Still a child. She really is naïve. As if all I am is a child that desperately needs reassurance and validation. I needed more than that. We both did. But, still. Still, still, still.

Hanako’s lips pressed closely together as he buried his face into her shoulder.

I guess this is still nice.

#jibaku shounen hanako kun #nene yashiro #yashiro nene #kou minamoto #HanaNene #HanaKouNene #Seventh Wonder Hanako #Yako (jshk)#tsuchigomori #Magi fics #to cope with my bad luck and being an idiot I've convinced myself of the invisible stat kp #kp stands for karma points

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joonsmagicstudio · 4 years ago

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Meet Me Where The Waves Touches The Sky: are you ready? (IV)

Note: I put a keep reading break but I am unsure if it is working, if there is no keep reading link then please let me know! I do not wish to bother anyone with long posts.

Story Description: We all have our issues, but some of us are sub-consciously pushing it away without realizing how deep under water we are. You don't realize the things around you aren't what used to be until you meet a celebrity struggling to live. Like the hypocrite you are, you help others without helping yourself first. But no one told you about helping others gives you this exhilarating feeling of being a saint. So for how long are you going to keep being a saint in a doctor's coat?

Genre: Angst, fluff (if you squint) and smut.

Pairing: You x Namjoon

Trigger Warning: It revolves heavily around suicide, depression and death. Please don’t read it if it is a sensitive topic for you. Also keep in mind it isn’t like ‘13 reasons why’. It takes place in more of an adult setting hence mature. It also has mature (+18) scene, alcohol consumption and occasional use of foul language hehe.

I am writing about suicide, death and depression not because I romanticize it or engage in it for others to partake. It is strictly for the purpose of writing a story to convey a message beyond these three words.

Story masterlist is here: MMWTWTTS

Namjoon woke up to gentle clattering of plates and the aroma of food, with that he got up and walked over to the kitchen with an empty beer bottle in his hand. He saw you setting the plates with food on the table, only one though.

"Don't stand at the entrance Namjoon, come on in. I made breakfast for you." You set a glass of water next to his plate and stood up to face him.

"Thanks, but where is yours?" Namjoon sauntered over to the table and sat down. You took the beer away from his hand and set it next to yours at the sink.

"Oh mine? Don't worry, I already had it. You just woke up on time, I was about to go and wake you up." You smiled softly watching Namjoon stare at his plate of food for quite a while, "C'mon, eat up before it gets cold." You urged him softly, this man in front of you really is long gone to the core if he just stares and simple things, you thought, does he even have tie to sit down and eat?. You had just served him warm croissants with bacon, eggs and tea as well as water on the side along with sweet condiments to eat with the croissants.

"Alright, I have work. So I'll be leaving now. Once you are done, you can simply put the empty plates in the sink. I'll take care of it. Rest well alright, Namjoon?" You put more emphasis on his name to make sure he was looking at you and heard you clear enough.

"Yeah I will. Thanks." He mumbled before weakly lifting up the knife to scoop up the sweet condiment of his choice, strawberry jam, to slather on the croissant. With that, you left the flat with your coat and shoulder bag and headed towards your workplace.

Namjoon nibbled on his breakfast before leaving it halfway uneaten, the lack of appetite was rather overwhelming so forcing himself to eat would just be making him eat dust. Last night he had gone through the entire place but didn't see your room yet. He wanted to but that it would be an invasion of privacy, 'Just a small look won't harm anyone.' Namjoon said to himself in means of comforting himself and walked up to the door to your room. His hand rested still on the doorknob to your room, it could be locked for all he knows. But if it's locked then that means you have something to hide.

Namjoon sighed and twisted the doorknob. It opened. Your room was just like his. Devoid of many things except for a white table with a penholder that had exactly 2 pens and one pencil. Your bed was neatly made just like his was and the color scheme was exactly the same, grey and white. You had no pictures, no decorations, just nothing. There was at least a closet, with your clothes he assumed. Namjoon walked over to your closet and opened it. You had nothing but just a few dark colored bottoms and tops. Just one beige coat was hanging on the left side and that was it. No boxes or any compartments. Namjoon found it too unsettling, you really had nothing and literally nothing to hide or anything about yourself that he could learn from. If there's one thing he learned from you, then that was you had nothing about yourself.

Namjoon left your room and went back to where his breakfast laid cold, it was safe to say that he was unsettled by the lack of your 'things' but then you were helping him a great deal. He decided to just ask about it when you came back, which would be late night since you stayed late working last night.

〰️ 💠 〰️

"This artificial intelligence will produce a realistic hologram of the person's most loved or dear one- The hologram then would speak to the person and talk them down. If this proves succesfu-"

"How would the hologram even find the person's loved one Y/LN?" The one and only researching professor on depression and suicide at the moment in the hospital, Dr. Richards, blatantly asked. He never really liked you. Why? It's simple really, you were younger and better than him and he had bruised ego because of that. It didn't bother you that much really because the more he tried to attack you, the more openings he made that allowed you to defeat him.

"The AI can easily run a facial recognition on a person's face and I'm sure you have studied a bit on the brain, right?"

"Yes-"

"Then you would know that a particular region of the brain, called Hippocampus, shows a spike in activity when the person is remembering something. You see, this is where the AI comes into play, not only does it do facial recognition but because its sensor is so powerful, it can pick up the readings of the person Hippocampus and dive into its memories and picks out the most memorable memory. And from that memory it does a background check on the person involved in it to see if the bond between that person is strong or has fallen away before producing a holographic image of it." You stopped right in front of Dr. Richards defiantly, crossing your elbows you asked, "Anymore questions?"

"What about the voic-"

"Oh doctor, hasn't someone told you memories are extremely powerful. The AI can pick up the voice from the memory too." You shot back at him.

"What if the memorable person is dead huh?! What would the AI do? Show it? That gives a push to the person to fucking suicide." Dr. Richards slammed both of his hands on the table, the glass of water next to him rattled and splashed violently, other doctors in the room zeroed on you. You had to admit that this time he got you. You hadn't thought about that. It was a flaw, a major flaw. If the person saw his loved one that is dead, that person would most likely go for it to see them.

Silence hung heavy in the air, all the doctors were looking at you for some kind of answer. If you didn't answer then all the hard work, effort and attempts you put into this would go down the drain.

So theoretically someone who saw his dead loved one would take a leap to be with them unless- "In case of that unfortunate event, the AI would ensure the hologram of the loved one talks them down, it talks the person out of suicide. It would reject each time the person says I want to be with you. The AI would tell them no. Look, it's difficult to explain but you get my gist. It doesn't matter who appears as a hologram as long it can talk the person out of suicide. I mean think about it, South Korea has the highest rate of suicide, with this invention we can reduce the number greatly and we won't be infamous for being number one in that category. Think about how much benefit it could bring us." You walked back to the center of the stage and stood in front of the projection that displayed your prototype model of the AI device, "That's all. I hope you can consider this idea." You were pushed into the corner so you had to end the presentation there on a dull note.

〰️ 💠 〰️

You walked out of the conference room with much more weight on your back than when you first entered. You had noticed that when you ended your presentation, all the doctors and the delegates were pondering over it, there was no face of confirmation or anyone that seemed to be willingly to go for this idea of yours.

"Hey! Y/N!" Someone called behind you and you turned around to locate the owner of the voice.

"Wooyoung, is there something?" You asked with your eyebrows raised at him. He was jogging frantically in his white lab coat and stethoscope flapping around wildly.

"Didn't you hear over the comms?" Wooyoung came to a halt in front of you, he panted heavily with his hand on his thighs for a moment before standing up.

"I was in the conference-"

"Fuck-okay, it's code blue Y/N! It's yours." Wooyoung grabbed your arm and pulled you violently towards the west wing. If he said code blue, then it required immediate attention. The hospital had set up a system in which they could use code words to alert all doctors and staff of a particular situation without causing a stir or panic in the patients. Code blue means this person requires immediate attention within a few minutes. If it occurred in the west wing then it was either a person from the general surgery ward or the psychiatric ward. You really hoped it wasn't the latter, because that would most likely mean that someone managed to get out of their room and was about to stir up trouble. But if there's one thing you have learned in your life, that one thing is that hoping is futile. You knew it was definitely someone from the psychiatric ward because Wooyoung said it was yours.

Wooyoung and you stopped when you both reached the open space of the West Wing where you could see floors and floors accessible by stairs and escalator. Wooyoung then tapped your shoulder and pointed up to the 7th floor. The west wing was several stories tall, after all it was a major hospital.

"Fuck." Was the only thing that slipped out of your mouth when you saw the situation that Wooyoung pointed to.

"Yeah fuck." Wooyoung muttered, "We can't get her to come down, she is hell-bent on jumping. The ledge she's standing on is awfully thin, we can't risk catching her because it'll just take her one step." Wooyoung relayed to you the situation that was unfolding in front of your eyes. That girl was your patient, Kim Jungha, that's her name. You had her put in for treatment for severe depression topped with schizophrenia, it was a nasty combination.

"Right, where is her family? They could help. There's no way we could catch her from the bottom." You asked. Kim Jungha's family was the closest thing to happiness she had before she landed her, especially her sister. That's what you had understood after many sessions with Kim Jungha and right now she could use her sister.

"I'll go and talk to her, hopefully buy enough time till her family arrives." You exhaled sharply and jogged towards the staircase that led to the 7th floor where Jungha was dangerously standing on the ledge.

As you approached 7th floor, you saw the entire floor swarmed with the staff and few doctors surrounding Jungha at a considerable distance, it was silent and tension was high except for a faint conversation between Jungha on the ledge and another staff member, by the look of Jungha's dull and hopeless expression, you understood that the conversation wasn't going well. You squeezed yourself through the surrounding staff and came to stand in front of Jungha. Jungha's back was facing the vast space with a solid drop, which meant one step and it was near impossible to get her back. You glanced behind her briefly before signalling with your hand for the other staff who was talking to keep quiet and back off.

"Jungha, can we talk?" You softened your voice, you didn't want to show her any signs of stress that you were under. Jungha stayed silent, you took that as a sign to keep talking.

"I understand what you are feel-"

"Please cut that bullshit. You don't, how would you? You are trained to say bullshit like to make us feel better. Guess what? It doesn't fucking work." Jungha spat harshly in your face.

She is a tricky one, you've always felt people like Jungha was like talking to a wall, "Alright, you think I don't understand. That's fine by me. What about your sister? How do you think she would feel if you left her alone?" You decided to pull the sister card. One of the most important thing learned about talking to people to of suicide was if you can't sympathize with them, then redirect their anguish and focus to the loved ones that could make them rethink their choices.

Jungha didn't reply, which means that she's doubting now.

"Your sister would be heartbroken to find out that you left her. She wouldn't be happy without you because you mean so much to her, you mean the universe to her."

"But my sister, my mother, they would be better off without me wouldn't they? I am nothing but a burden to them, Y/N." She said solemnly as she used your name. You always let your patients call you by your first name simply because it would be comfortable for them to talk to you.

"You aren't a burden Jungha. You are just like us. We have all got a backpack, some are just heavier than others but at the end of the day we all keep continuing with our backpacks in the journey. And the reason we keep going on is because there are others in the journey. Others that keep us company and make the journey bearable and before we even realize it, we forget about the heavy backpacks and keep on continuing the journey. For you, that person who makes your journey bearable is your sister and you are the same for here. If you leave her, her journey would be difficult for her." You took a step closer as you spoke so just in case, just in case she decides to.

You also prepared yourself for another technique to get a person off the ledge. But that technique wouldn't change the person's mind, rather it could turn violent. That technique was to say you wanted their wallet or something so when the person would hand it over, you could grab their hands and pull them to safety. The only problem was that there were a lot of things that could go wrong with it. And she doesn't have anything on her that you could ask for.

"You know, Y/N. I've always admired you." Jungha suddenly said, steering the entire focus of the conversation off the tracks. Murmurs arose behind you from the staff and suddenly you weren't able to think properly. Why this now?

"Shut up." You whipped around to silence the staff before turning back to Jungha, "Why? Why have you admired me?" You were baffled at her statement about you.

"You have it perfect. Perfectly fine mind, healthy body, wonderful job. You have it all Y/N." Jungha sighed, her shoulders slumping and she hung her head low, staring at the ground. She calmed down a bit.

Only if she knew.

"Jungha, no one is perfect-"

"Is it gonna rain today?" Jungha suddenly looked up face to face with you.

She loved rain, almost everyday she would press her face against the window during the sessions with you and ask if it would rain or not. Since then you learned that if it did rain, she would simply ask if she could go out for a stroll and bask in the wet shower, just to enjoy the feeling of rain pouring down on her. You knew why she liked rain, you also like rain, in fact the two of you liked rain for one particular reason.

No one could see if you were crying.

But it wasn't raining outside right now, 'Shit.' you thought as warning bells went off in your head and cold sweat washed over you before you sprinted the last few steps to catch her as Jungha leaned back, taking a step backward.

And once again, you were too late. 〰️ 💠 〰️

"Time of death, 12:52 PM."

The ground floor of the west wing had been cordoned off and staff was cleaning up the floor. A body had been placed on a gurney and covered in a white cloth before being transported to the mortuary. Someone was busy wiping the blood off like it was a normal thing while the other one was disinfecting it completely.

You were nowhere to be seen on the premise.

The family of Jungha came a little too late. But not late enough to see a body hurtling to the ground with an audible crack and blood pooling out. It would have been better if they came later or never came at all, after all it was never a beautiful sight to see.

Before you disappeared, you did pay your respect to the family of the deceased as part of doctor's duty. It was nothing short of disappointment and anger from them. The mother slapped you with tears streaming down her face, yelling at you about how shitty and inconsiderate you were. You didn't fight back or shed any tears. You kept quiet and took it in, no one can never do anything against a mother in deep anguish over the loss of their child. No parent would wish to carry their children coffin before they passed away. That wasn't something you could change.

You had left the hospital earlier than your shift, it didn't matter if you left early. You were already past the quota of shifts that you needed to complete this month. All you wanted right now was to lay in the bed of the flat. Just some time alone to do your work would be great. Just like how you did with the rest of your days, a death in the routine didn't faze you in the slightest.

Namjoon heard the beeping sound of the passcodes being punched into, 'Why is she back so early?' he thought as he glanced at the time in the upper right corner of the PC in his room. In the time you were gone, he had decided to look up on you to see if he could find anything but alas there was nothing on you and he ended up getting side-tracked to reading through fan comments about him and his work. He stood up, pushing the chair behind him and walked to the entrance and greeted you.

"Hey." It was simple, short and curt.

You looked up from your shoes, ah, you had almost forgotten about him at the flat. "Oh, hey. You good?" You asked, striking a small conversation.

"Oh yeah I am good. Hey-uh thanks for letting me use your flat. I really appreciate it." Namjoon shyly thanked you with a soft smile.

"Anytime." You replied, "One condition though."

"Name it!" Namjoon chuckled, "One condition is nothing compared to what you have done for me."

"Never. Never bring work here. When you enter this flat. You leave work outside. That means absolutely anything from reading or writing or even thinking about it if possible." You sternly said with your eyes fixated on his face. You left no space for negotiations.

Namjoon opened his mouth to say something but your gaze shut him down. He was looking through comments a while back. That meant he couldn't do it anymore now, "I'll try." he hesitantly complied, he would definitely try, but if ideas and inspirations hit him while he was here then he would somehow have to make a mental note or at least jot it down before it's gone.

"Good. I'm going to work for a little bit. Feel free to do whatever you want." With that you walked towards the room in which you were going to work in bed.

'That's it?' Namjoon thought as he saw your figure close the door to the room. You really were someone he couldn't read at all. Yesterday, you seemed to be doing everything on impulse and on a whim but today you seemed distant. He had no clue about who you are other than your name, occupation and where you lived. Honestly, he found it intriguing. He wanted to know more of who you are and what kind of person you are. It would be awkward to just go to you and say 'Hey I want to know you a bit more. Can we chat?' like right now. 'Whatever, just go for it', Namjoon thought and with that he walked to where you went and pushed the door slightly and looked in with his head before fully stepping inside. He saw you sitting in the bed with the laptop and blanket over your legs. You had your headphones, presumably listening to music.

You felt a presence enter the room and you turned your head to find Namjoon standing, 'What can I help you with?" You asked as you closed your laptop and slipped your headphones off to listen to him.

"Ah, I just wanted to talk to you if you don't mind."

"About what?" You raised your eyebrows at him and patted on a spot across you on the bed for him to sit. Namjoon accepted the gesture and sat on the edge of the bed with one leg folded and the other resting against the side of the bed with the foot barely touching the floor.

"Oh um about anything really, I just want to want to get to know you a bit better since you know I'll probably be frequenting this place of yours." Namjoon looked down at your bedsheet and traced a circle over and over again with his index finger.

"Well, what do you want to know about me then?" You weren't really up for the idea of talking to him about you but he had a fair point. He was going to frequent this place and it wouldn't be ideal if he didn't know you but stayed anyways.

"Well for starters, what were you listening to?" Namjoon looked up to you.

"Music."

"Oh cool, I listen to music too. What kind of music?"

"Pop."

Few seconds passed by in the awkward atmosphere between the 2 of you.

"Okay um-nevermind this conversation. I'll be off to my room." Namjoon exhaled in slight disappointment at your lack of answers. Even talking to you was tough, he felt like he was pretty much talking to nothing.

"Okay no wait. Sorry I'm not much of a person to talk about myself." You felt shame in your actions flood your brain, " I'll admit I'm being a bit rude here. Uh the song I was listening to right now was she's in the rain by the rose. Uhm-listen to it. It's pretty good I guess." You leaned forward, hurriedly put your hand on his hand to stop him from going and then retracted your hand slowly once realizing the skin contact you had made. Small but it burned strongly at the fingertips. You didn't realize it then but the fact that the touch burned strongly was probably because you had deprived yourself of skin-ship for so long that you didn't remember how it felt anymore.

Namjoon halted and looked up to you, it soon dawned on him that you aren't much of a skin-ship person looking at how you retracted moments after barely touching him. He let out a small smile, he learned 2 things today. You like a song 'she's in the rain' by the rose and you aren't the type for skin-ships.

"Nah it's quite alright. I just wanted to know a bit about you since, you know I might be crashing this place frequently and it seems kind of weird that I don't know you at all." Namjoon slowly sat down again on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah, no that's absolutely right, you deserve to know a little about the host of the place." You murmured, keeping your eyes trained to the bed sheet surrounding your hands. A small silence followed after your reply and Namjoon took it as an end of the conversation. He slapped both of his palms flat against his thigh, "Right, well I better get going on with my stuff and let you do your own thing." Namjoon exhaled, he felt like he had in a way overstayed his stay near you. To be honest, he felt pretty awkward around you since it was out of your workspace and mostly because you felt 'difficult' or 'hard' to interact, there wasn't a click of a human connection, yet. For nth time he thought again if it was really a good idea to crash at your place when he felt it was too much and overbearing

"Ah, okay. Just remember, anytime you are welcome here Namjoon." You gave him a short and curt smile. Had anyone not been paying attention, they would have missed it. It was a tight-lipped smile but Namjoon appreciated it. Nevermind, he was gonna stay for a few hours more before leaving. 〰️ 💠 〰️

"Hyung. Where were you?" Jungkook's head perked up the moment he heard the footsteps of Namjoon entering the dorm. "You were gone for a few days, we got worried."

"Ah, I stayed at a friends house. Sorry for not informing." Namjoon replied as he rested the very blue painting he had been admiring in your place against the wall to shrug off his coat.

"Is that so?- To be honest it's getting concerning" Jungkook set down his bowl of snacks on the table that was once sitting on his lap on the couch. He twisted a little bit to the right to face the entrance and propped his arm on top of the couch backrest. He didn't miss the blue painting that was leaning against the wall, he had expected Taehyung to be the kind of person to bring artworks but not Namjoon though, maybe a bonsai tree or books being brought home would be normal.

"What's concerning?" Namjoon looked at him curiously, however he couldn't help but feel like he was going to get caught or that he had something to hide.

"You aren't what you used to be. Like when fans would come to you, you would be happy to take selfies with them but now you run away from them. It's kind of all over on news by the way, you running away from your fans. Now the media is calling you disrespectful." Jungkook looked up at him with his doe eyes. It felt like he was piercing through Namjoon to see what was Namjoon hiding, "But hyung, I've known you for a long time. Sure, running off wasn't quite nice but it's more than just running away from them because you don't want to see them. Am I right?" he hesitantly asked, hoping that Namjoon would clarify his thoughts that it was definitely more than just running away.

"Jungkook-ah it's fine. I will apologize anyways. I didn't want to see them really." Namjoon swallowed harshly and ended the conversation there, not allowing Jungkook to add in any further.

"Alright, if you say so Hyung." Jungkook wasn't fully convinced by what Namjoon said but decided to drop it to avoid pissing him off. A pissed off leader was the last thing the members in the dorm needed on their much awaited week off from their schedule.

Namjoon dragged himself to his room along with the painting and closed the door with an audible bang. Jungkook made a mental note to himself to tell other members that Namjoon is easily agitated nowadays.

Namjoon found himself staring at the sheet of paper in front of him, the blue painting had now been propped up against the wall opposite to his bed so that it would be the first thing she saw when he woke up and last thing to see before he went to sleep. He had everything he needed, a paper, a pencil, eraser and all sorts of things necessary to get going on with writing lyrics. What he was missing was his brain, well it was empty of thoughts and ideas. He was missing some kind of inspiration to write and all that was coming out of his head was lacklustre sentences. With a deep sigh he leaned back into his chair and hung his head backward as he looked at the plain white ceiling of his studio room. White and clean just like your office in the hospital.

Even though this wasn't relevant to the task he had forced himself to do, which was writing some lyrics, all that was coming to his mind at this moment was you. Your demeanor and words added to a confusing enigmatic character of you. He had never come across anyone extremely closed off- yet yearns to allow others to expose themselves to you. He figured you had some sort of trust issues, it would make sense if you did, only trusting others to spill information and so you wouldn't let on a single bit about yourself.

Who are you as a person? Do you have friends? Family? Someone special?

You on the other hand, were in your room and you still kept typing away on your laptop. You made sure to keep yourself busy at all times because you didn't want to think that you were alone and the whole place was quiet. You didn't want to be left alone to your own thoughts.

If there was one thing you hated the most, it was silence. Silence turned into a place for people to be vulnerable and face-to-face with their own thoughts, ideas and their own judgement that they promised would never come to see the light of the day.

Silence drove you nuts, because from silence it would transition into playful noises and laughters that could be heard though-out the house that was supposed to be long gone. Sometimes just the sound of someone entering home from a long day outside would get you eagerly excited like a dog waiting for its owner's arrival.

"Y/N! Get your ass down here!" A husky voice suddenly called from downstairs, it was your older brother, he had dropped out of University recently and started taking up jobs such as a barista and many other mundane jobs a high-school degree could get.

"Coming Seonghwa!" You hopped off your bed and hurriedly jogged downstairs to greet your brother by the doorsteps. Wooden floorboards creaking and groaning under your weight, the house and the flooring was old, probably in need of renovation soon but you didn't care. It was all your brothers could get with their earning and the leftover money from your late parents and you were more than happy with that.

"Are you ready? Shall we head to the hospital?" He ruffled your hair a little bit before flashing you his warm smile, his hair was slightly messy from the cap he wore at his workplace, there were bags underneath his eyes from constantly working overtime to scrape up as many cents he could.

"Yes, I am ready, let's get going." You slipped on your worn out converse shoes, it was loose and comfortable from all the years of constant rough wearing. An old ratty shoe that was due for a new one but you couldn't find it in your heart to get rid of it. It was a gift from your brothers years ago that you had cherished it even though it was originally a few sizes too big.

The two of you were heading to the hospital to meet your middle brother, Seonghwa was the oldest while you were the youngest and Hongjoong was the middle one. Your parents had long passed away or that is what you had been told by your brothers, so that is why Seonghwa had to drop out of University to start being the bread-winner of the family when the price of education was getting ludicrously high. It was originally Hongjoong who had dropped out to start working since he just finished high school and you were still doing your 11th grade while Seonghwa was halfway through 1st term. But things started to get worse, your middle brother had gradually started growing sicker each passing day and one fine day you found him collapsed in the kitchen, completely pale and depleted of energy.

After admitting Hongjoong to hospital, Seonghwa and you learned that he had brain cancer that had been ebbing his energy away and emotional stability bit by bit. After a long and lengthy talk session in the room your brother was admitted, the two of them decided that Seonghwa will drop out of university to fund the medical bills and let you continue your education. You hated the idea, but you didn't put up much of a fight. It was the most logical thing to do and you wanted to get into a medical school, earn well and save Hongjoong, that is if he keeps holding on till then.

Ever since then, the house grew emptier, only you were the one that stayed in the house, majority of the night the house was empty and the hospital room was filled with soft snores of the three of you sleeping together mixing with the faint beeping sound of the medical equipment. Hongjoong on the bed, you on the couch and Seonghwa on the makeshift bed right next to Hongjoong. Despite the rough times, you found comfort and solace in the presence of both your brothers, but that didn't stop you from feeling anxious every fleeting day about how Hongjoong was doing, about how Seonghwa was holding up. You could only see Hongjoong looking paler and paler despite him smiling. You could only see Seonghwa coming home more tired, more dull than the previous day yet he never failed to smile and keep you happy and give you company.

It was going great, really great, you had hopes that your brother would recover from brain cancer, your older brother would eventually be able to get back to studying university and everything would be back to normal.

That's what you thought, of course it's never that easy, never that good, life doesn't give it to you that easy.

It started declining steeply to a shitty end of a chapter, and it started with your elder brother first.

Suddenly a pinging sound resonated from your laptop and you were pulled back to reality harshly, you were still sitting on the bed, the only difference was that you slipped up and let yourself succumb to the silence. The music in the headphones had stopped playing a while back because it had reached the end of the playlist, so with a painful sigh and clenched up throat you pulled off your headphones and gingerly closed your laptop. The warmth of the memory slowly faded and cold air seeped through your skin. Your head felt heavy yet empty and a familiar negative feeling seemed to enclose around your head and your line of bright vision to a duller light.

You didn't feel like sleeping tonight, maybe another shift at the hospital wouldn't hurt. This was your coping mechanism, running away and busying yourself in work that gave you no space in your mind to think about anything else.

#kpop #kpop imagines #namjoon fic #namjoon x reader #bts #bts imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #kpop angst #kpop fluff

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jentrevellan · 5 years ago

Text

Believe Again: Chapter Five

Rating: Mature Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition Relationships: Cullen Rutherford x Female Trevelyan Tags: slow burn, slow build, slow romance, mage/templar dynamics, family drama, templars, mages, enemies to friends to lovers, angst, lyrium withdrawal, crisis of faith, loss of faith, The Chantry, sexual tension, innuendo

MASTERPOST:

A/N: Tags to be updated. Chapters posted on the 1st Thursday of the month.

<-PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER->

CHAPTER Five - Elsie

...so I met the Herald of Andraste this morning. She’s already becoming pretty famous around these parts but after meeting her, I was struck by how normal she was. A woman just shy of thirty, and a mage. I watched as she helped drive away the apostates and rogue templars from the Crossroads and I was impressed. Her magic is scary, like all mages, but from the little I know of the art I could see that she had immense control and I felt like I was witnessing something special to see her wield it. I know that contradicts what I said about her being normal. Maybe that’s why people like her already - myself included

- Part of a letter sent by Scout Lace Harding to her mother

5. Elsie

Although horse riding was in her blood and she had been on horseback more in the past year than most of her life put together; Elsie was still desperately out of practice, especially when travelling roads she didn't know with a mare who was almost as stubborn as she was. By the time they had made camp that first evening on their journey, Elsie was no closer to getting on with her horse who had the most ridiculous name of Buttercup. Normally such a name would not offend her, but Buttercup was so unlike her namesake in both looks and temperament that Elsie couldn’t help but resent it.

Perhaps she was projecting her bubbling anger unknowingly on the poor mare. For most of the day, Elsie’s thoughts had been consumed with that of Commander Cullen. Cold, calculated, emotionless ex-templar, she thought bitterly as she set up her tent by a stream with the others.

“I think I’m going to pitch my tent away from the Herald,” Varric said with a wink. “She looks like she’s about to set something on fire, and I’m rather fond of my chest hair.”

Elsie rolled her eyes but managed a smile. “I’m sorry, I’m just-”

“Brooding?” Varric interjected.

She frowned at him. “I wasn’t brooding,” she muttered.

Varric laughed. “Believe me Dimples, I know brooding when I see it. I learnt from the expert also known as Fenris.”

Elsie didn’t reply and continued to pitch her tent in silence but tried to act more calmly. She was annoyed with the Commander and frustrated about how they had left things: she would much rather resolve the conflict upfront than sit and stew, which she had done for most of the day. Also, considering he had stayed in Haven, his obvious resentment towards her would no doubt be exacerbated by her absence, especially as she was not there to defend herself.

She heaved a sigh and instead turned back to Varric who was now reclining on a blanket outside of his tent.

“You’re from Kirkwall, right Varric?” she asked slowly, taking a seat on a log near him.

“Well if that’s not a loaded question, I don’t know what is,” he chuckled. “Out with it Dimples - you know I’m from Kirkwall...for better or worse.”

Elsie spread her hands as she searched for the right words. “Alright - Commander Cullen was from Kirkwall too, yes? Did you know him? Was he part of the mage uprising?”

Varric looked at her closely before shaking his head. “Alright, I’ll tell you Herald… but you’re not going to like it.”

The ride the next day was even more subdued as Elsie mulled over everything Varric had told her. Oh, like many apostates she had read his ‘Tales of the Champion’, whilst on the run, with the desire to know more about the mage couple who had started the rebellion. Her sister Evelyn had even been stationed at the Gallows before the trouble really started and had once mentioned in passing that she had met the Champion. Not for the first time, Elsie wished she could speak to her sister again, to ask her if she knew Cullen - surely their paths would’ve crossed on occasion, especially if he had been a commanding officer? She made a mental note to ask him about Evelyn once they were on better speaking terms… if that were to happen.

“So the Commander of the Inquisition just… turned a blind eye? Let things escalate and did nothing?” Elsie asked Varric that following evening.

Varric blinked at the sudden change in subject but recovered quickly. “I suppose that’s something you would need to ask him yourself. But he stood up against Meredith with us in the end.”

“In the end,” Elsie repeated slowly. “Some of what I’ve heard from mages who escaped the Gallows-”

“Are exaggerations, no doubt,” Cassandra interrupted, walking past them on her way to her tent. She looked down at them, her hands on her hips. “None of us were truly there in the Gallows or in the ranks. A Templar doesn’t question orders - that’s what makes them excellent soldiers.”

“But people died because he chose to look the other way!” Elsie replied heatedly, getting to her feet. She had been sitting and stewing on this fact for most of the day, and could feel her hands shaking.

“I think he knows that, Dimples,” Varric said quietly.

“Indeed,” Cassandra continued. “What matters now is that he made the right choices and was invaluable with the relief efforts in Kirkwall. That’s what I saw when I sought to recruit him - a brilliant soldier and swordsman, unafraid to admit he was wrong and more than willing to atone.” With that, Cassandra retreated into her tent without another word.

Varric and Elsie lapsed into a companionable silence, and the dwarf plucked at his crossbow idly whilst staring into the campfire, his mind obviously back in Kirkwall or someplace. Elsie thought over Cassandra’s words and offered a small smile to Solas who sat down opposite her and pulled out a book. She watched the elf set his staff down carefully on the ground by his feet and flick open a couple of pages before finding his place where he had left off. A prickle of magic she was now becoming familiar with and Elsie knew that Solas had just returned from setting wards around their little camp. She felt his soft magic flow silently around them and that’s when she remembered something that she had been sitting on since her talk with Varricc the previous evening.

She peered over her shoulder at Cassandra’s tent before leaning in closer to Varric, her voice low. “Can I ask you something?”

“You already have, but I guess you have another question?” he grinned, and Elsie gave him a gentle swat on the arm in response.

“Just something you said about Commander Cullen yesterday that’s been on my mind… does he really not see mages as people?” her mouth felt dry as she asked and Solas looked up from the book he was reading.

Varric’s good and contemplative mood evaporated and he looked down at his feet, rubbing his chin as he decided how to answer.

“You don’t forget something like that,” he admitted slowly. “But Curly has changed an awful lot since then; you would have to ask him yourself.”

Elsie rolled her eyes. “Sure, because we are such good friends.”

“Perhaps we need to give Cullen the benefit of the doubt,” Solas said, ever calm. “It’s the least we can do if we don’t want him to judge us as much as we are apparently judging him.”

She noted the quiet rebuke but didn’t comment on it. “I just feel like he’s watching us all the time - like when we were training before we left Haven.”

“With all due respect Elsie, it wasn’t me he was staring at,” Solas said, a wry smile tugging on the corners of his mouth.

“Oh really?” Varric said eagerly, threading his fingers together. “Do tell me more. Would you say he was ‘enraptured’? Besotted?”

Heat coursed through Elsie. “Really Varric,” she shook her head.

Varric ignored her. “Is the Commander Templar pining for the Herald mage I wonder? Opposites do attract after all.”

Elsie crossed her arms and regarded him coolly, hoping her warm cheeks didn’t give her away. “The journey must be making you weary for you are delusional,” she said calmly, although her gut twisted at the thought of him watching her as a person, as a woman, and not because she was a mage. “Besides, I don’t think the Commander could manage friendship with a mage, let alone be intimate with one.”

“Who said anything about intimacy?” Varric grinned, and Elsie wanted to put her fist in her mouth. She looked over at Solas for some support but the elf was smiling down at his book, refusing to meet her eye.

“Come now Dimples! Curly isn’t exactly hard on the eyes now, is he?”

He’s right about that , she admitted silently, thinking of his strong jaw and chiselled cheekbones.

“Don’t forget the thrill of a forbidden romance,” the dwarf continued.

“What are you, a smutty romance writer?” she said, playing close attention to her gloves.

“I have been known to dabble.”

“Maker’s balls,” she swore. “If you are quite finished, I’m going to bed before you say any more ridiculous nonsense and start naming children or some other hogwash,” she said, waving a hand.

“That’s some pretty strong denial there,” Solas smiled.

Elsie glared at him. “Traitor,” she mumbled, hiding a smile as she got to her feet. “This conversation is over. Goodnight!”

She strode to her tent, the sounds of the elf and the dwarf’s laughter following her. “Have pleasant dreams of Curly!” Varric called after her.

Oh, how she wished she could slam a tent flap shut.

Needless to say, Elsie took a few moments to collect herself, although the taunting words of Varric and Solas rang in her ears. Cullen was a troubled, complicated man with a dark past and perhaps she had given him too little credit. And yet, as Elsie undressed and slipped into a simple nightdress, her hands lingered on her collarbone and her waist and she wondered what it would feel like if his breath tickled her neck and if it were his hands on her instead of her own -

Abruptly, she snatched her hands away, as if scolded. Maker, am I that desperate for comfort? So eager for the touch of another person that she would fantasise about a man she barely knew and antagonised her so? Stupid handsome Commander , she thought. It was his fault being - as Varric had said - not so bad on the eyes. She wasn’t sure if that made her dislike him more or less.

Despite her self-scolding, Elsie did dream of the Commander and as was typical of the Fade, it distorted the reality. She saw him as a Templar in Ostwick, walking the hallways she had known so well for many years. And in her dreams he was softer but strong, and pressed her quietly up against the library shelves, tucked away in secret corners, giving in to temptation.

A cold dip in the river the following morning chased all heated thoughts away, and as their journey continued, she sobered greatly as they faced demons and closed a rift which had already taken the lives of a small farming family. The next few days were much the same, which gave the small group a chance to practice working and fighting together. As they finally descended into the Hinterlands proper, Elsie was too full of simple wonder admiring the luscious green landscape to even complain about her saddle sores. The tall trees, the long grass and the tame fennecs were enough to calm her soul and soon all confusing thoughts of the Commander of the Inquisition had fled her mind.

The beauty of the landscape was a sharp contrast to the bloodshed they soon encountered.

The Crossroads were a mess. They left their horses to recover at the forward camp with Scout Harding and descended into the valley on foot. As the screams and shouts became louder, Elsie exchanged a worried glance with Cassandra, who nodded grimly and drew her sword. They rounded the corner and saw the scuffle between Inquisition soldiers, Templars and mages; so the foursome prepared themselves as they had practiced: Solas set a ward over them all, Varric slung Bianca from over his shoulder and Cassandra braced in a warrior pose whilst flames licked Elsie’s fingers.

Despite their plans to not fight them, both the Templars and apostates refused to listen. Elsie wrapped her flames around a Templar who boiled in his metal armour screaming in agony. She then felt a dreaded tingle of blood magic from behind her and spun on her heel, twirled her staff and shot a fireball at an apostate before they could finish summoning a demon. Their robes were set alight and the blood mage screamed in both pain and frustration as she summoned an ice cloud over her to douse the flames. However, she was too slow as Cassandra skidded on her knees past Elsie and lunged upwards with her sword to dig her weapon into the mage’s gut.

She spluttered blood from her mouth, her eyes wide, before she grinned sadistically at Cassandra. In a pool of blood and magic, the mage transformed into a hideous abomination and Elsie shuddered involuntarily as it screeched at them. It swung its huge, unnatural arms down at Cassandra, who quickly blocked with her shield, but she was too slow, and the abomination ripped it away from her arm, causing the Seeker to cry out in pain with what Elsie quickly summarised was likely a broken wrist.

Instinct took over and Elsie summoned fire to wrap around the abomination as she ran forward and reached behind her back to grab her dagger. As her flames distracted the creature, she lunged up with her sharp blade and slashed its throat. It screeched in agony, but the cut wasn’t deep enough to be fatal. Elsie spun on her heel and swung her staff over her head, which was alight and burning with her magic. She went to strike again, aiming her dagger for the gut this time, but the abomination reached down and grabbed Elsie by the throat, dragging her off her feet. She dropped her dagger from her left hand and her staff from her right, and both fell to the cobbled ground with a clatter. She clawed desperately at the creature’s grossly malformed hands that were squeezing her throat, but her vision began to blur, even when the abomination leaned closer and whispered, with rotted breath ‘traitor’.

Elsie almost stopped struggling as she processed the word it had uttered. Fear groped her and she tried to gulp for air but its grip was strong -

Shuck.

She fell to the ground, suddenly free and sucked in as much air as she could with large, rasping gasps. Confused, she pulled herself to her feet and peered over at the now still abomination. A crossbow bolt was embedded between its rolled, bloodshot eyes. She turned to see Varric give her a quick wink before he turned and helped Solas with the final stragglers.

Cassandra stood leaning against a fence post, cradling her arm. “It’s over,” she said, looking around them.

Elsie nodded, unable to summon her voice. She looked around and saw body after fallen body litter the ground. Almost all the deceased were rogue templars or apostates and yet she did not feel particularly relieved about that fact. She didn’t really feel much of anything and went over to heal Cassandra’s wrist with a flick of magic she barely had to think about.

Traitor

Rubbing her neck sore neck and shrugging off Cassandra’s thanks, Elsie walked between the bodies as Inquisition soldiers began to sort and pile them up. Cassandra and Varric followed her every move like her shadow, but Solas remained apart and went to help with the physicians and offer his healing magic. Elsie knew she needed to join him and offer her limited skill of healing, but for her at that moment, it was important for her to look down on the faces of the people who had died - the people she had killed. Faces of men and women, elves and people passed her by, but the body of a blonde elven mage in tattered Circle robes gave her pause. The elf’s eyes were open, her green gaze staring at nothingness. She had no markings on her face, save for the bruises and blood from the skirmish and her ashen hair was clumps of blood tangled in it. She had one lone earring in her right ear and the metal was worn, as if regularly rubbed. Elsie wondered if it had been given to her by her mother, or a friend or a lover?

“It is war,” Varric mumbled from beside her, as Elsie let out a ragged breath. She reached forward and closed the elf’s eyes, her skin already cold.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” she replied bitterly. How many did I kill today? She thought. How many fellow mages? How many of my sister’s comrades?

“Herald,” Cassandra said, crossing her arms. “Elsie?” she said quietly when Elsie looked up at her. “We should report to Corporal Vale-”

“No, not yet,” Elsie said, regaining her composure and turning her back on the dead elf. “I need to help heal the wounded and speak to Mother Giselle. The rest can wait.”

“But-”

Elsie strode on past the Seeker and headed towards Solas who was crouched by a row of stretchers. “By all mean go and see the Corporal - but I’ve got work to be getting on with,” and with that, Elsie knelt down next to Solas and downed a lyrium potion before setting her hands on a soldier’s thigh and applying pressure.

Three days after the skirmish, Elsie had spoken to Mother Giselle, but she had still not left the Crossroads, much to Cassandra’s agitation. The injured were many and everyday more came in the hopes of being seen by a healer or someone who could help them. Broken families and quiet children became a common sight to Elsie as she helped heal those in the greatest of need.

It was on the fifth day that Cassandra finally dared to approach her directly. They had not spoken to one another since Elsie’s cool dismissal and she had barely spared a thought for the Seeker - Elsie’s primary concern was helping those in need and she said as much to Cassandra when they spoke as Elsie finished wrapping a bandage around a young man’s arm.

“I spoke to Mother Giselle before she left for Haven,” Cassandra said levelly, watching Elsie work.

“Did you indeed,” she replied, not looking up from her task as her fingers worked deftly to complete the dressing.

“Yes and she said she spoke to you about appealing to the Chantry directly in Val Royeaux-”

“And I will,” Elsie interrupted, tying a knot, and tugging on it to test the strength. “But I cannot even think about journeying to Orlais when my work here is not finished.”

Cassandra frowned and crossed her arms. She was silent for a moment as she considered her next words. “You are needed elsewhere, Herald. We must return to Haven at once to plan with the others about how we approach the Chantry in Val Royeaux!”

Elsie remained silent as she checked her handiwork and smiled at the soldier. “How does that feel?”

The young man nodded gratefully. “Much better, thank you, Your Worship.”

She got to her feet and wiped her hands on a cloth. “You’re welcome. Now, make sure you rest and you’ll be back swinging a sword in no time.”

“Yes, Your Worship,” he mumbled, lowering his eyes.

Elsie walked into the main cabin and approached the desk where she made a note on the patient’s care on a ledger. She idly rubbed her neck as she wrote, as the bruising there was still painful and was turning a grotesque shade of purple. Cassandra followed her and waited as patiently as she could, which Elsie knew she was pushing. Finally, she turned to the Seeker.

“I’ve spoken to Corporal Vale - there is much work to be done here: much more than healing these people.”

Cassandra bristled. “So let the healers and physicians take over and let us return to-”

“No, I cannot,” Elsie said sharply, cutting Cassandra off. “Whilst the healers can now cope with the wounded here, what about outside of this valley? Cassandra, the King’s Road is not safe for these people to leave and return to their homes. We need to stop the Templars and apostates, not to mention the raiders and mercenaries, otherwise our leaving would just undo all of the work done thus far and endanger the lives of those we have already saved!” she exclaimed. Her voice had risen unintentionally and a few patients in the beds around them looked over at them both curiously. Closing her eyes, Elsie took a breath before continuing more calmly. “Don’t you see? If we alleviate the threat in the Hinterlands, word will spread of the good and sustainable work the Inquisition is doing - which will hole more sway and influence when we eventually do go to Val Royeaux.” Elsie’s hand’s shook, so she clasped them together, hoping the Seeker had not noticed. “And I know it must be me that helps - you must’ve read the reports from Vale: there are rifts all over the Hinterlands only I can close.”

The two women stared each other down for a moment until Cassandra finally spoke begrudgingly. “It seems you’ve thought a great deal about this.”

Elsie shrugged. “It helps to think and keep the mind busy when you’re wrapping bandages and the like,” she replied, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Cassandra signed and conceded. “Very well. Your theory is sound, even though I don’t fully agree. I know for sure the others back at Haven won’t approve either.”

Elsie smiled faintly. “Well I am sure they will cope,” she said dryly, just knowing the reports the Commander would receive about her stubbornness to cooperate to his orders would drive him mad. “In any case, I will write to them - personally - to explain our plans.”

“That would be helpful, I suppose.”

“Excellent,” Elsie grinned, rubbing her hands together. “Now, will you help me give these poor folk some lunch?”

<- PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER ->

#Believe Again #Fic: Believe Again #my writing #writing #long post #fanfic #fanfiction #cullen #cullen rutherford #elsie trevelyan #cullen x inquisitor #cullen x trevelyan #cullen romance #cullen stanton rutherford

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gwiiyeoweo · 5 years ago

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It was a joke, created from an accidental remark of misnaming Cor as someone else. But naturally, things escalate.

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Cor/Noctis

It started innocently enough, through a casual slip of the tongue and resulting in an embarrassed prince.

Cor brushed the tip of his sword across the ground, relaxing from his defensive stance from which he had just parried Noctis’ attack. The boy was still slow, still trying to climb over the hurdles of chronic pain and tough scarring that addled his limbs and nerves, but his efforts and progress was nothing short of remarkable. Not many survivors, at least those with such extensive damage, could ever hope to make half the recovery Noctis made over the years. Still, there were a ways to go and many years before the young thing could land a scratch on Cor.

“Shit, go easy on me for once, dad —”

Noctis had been nursing his bruised ego and his even more bruised ass, flung to his back and eating dirt and gravel, until that single word froze his hands in place and blew his eyes wide open.

Cor knew for certain that the pink dusting the boy’s cheeks was not the sunburn from the clear skies, especially not with how Scientia had slathered him with bulletproof sunscreen when he learned they’d be training outside today. Knew for certain how to spot a blooming teen’s embarrassment for what it was, how the hunched shoulders and brief panic flashing across his face meant a mini crisis taken way more seriously than it needed to be. Hell, Cor had been in Noctis’ position a handful of times, back in his days of youth training under his captain who was truly more of a father figure than a severe militant.

But of course, Noctis was in that age of rampant hormones and emotions all thrown into a blender, stuck between keeping up this “cool” persona and penting up his anxieties when he ought to be free to feel how he wanted and seeking help when he needed — except, teenage stubbornness was a helluva beast.

In essence, Noctis was embarrassed by the all too common problem of misnaming a not-dad, dad.

Cor didn’t really care. He’s done it a handful of times, and while he’s not an actual father, he supposed he was something of a father figure to a good number of trainees anyway. So he ignored it, like he did in the past.

“All the more reason to keep you on your toes, considering you have a hard time even standing,” Cor said, not even batting an eyelash at Noctis’ slip.

Noctis’ shoulders sagged in infinite gratitude, losing the stiffness that had seemed to seize him in his moment of teenage terror. Really, was it that ego-shattering to accidentally call the man a dad?

The accidents never stopped, though they were few and far in between. Eventually Noctis matured enough to not even care himself, even going so far as to intentionally “mistake” Cor as his father. Sometimes, he cracked dad jokes — sometimes, both of them did.

“Gods, I am exhausted. Can we take a breather? Please?”

“Hello, exhausted,” Cor said, offering a hand to pull Noctis up from the floor. The prince almost landed a good blow to Cor’s knees, much to the man’s pride, but his rushed attack left him wide open and prone to a fatal counterattack; once again, he had been flung to the ground with a well-timed kick and shove. Noctis rolled his eyes, already realizing his fatal mistake and expecting the joke to follow. “I am dad. But only ten minutes, no more than that.”

It was strange. Not because Cor wasn’t actually a father, or that he had issues with being seen as one. It was strange simply because of how easy they had both slipped into this inside joke. Truly though, he could understand the how and why from Noctis’ point of view, even when he doubted the prince himself knew the reason.

Cor’s been around for far too long to not notice, after all, and while he’s no psychiatrist, he suspected it all stemmed from a sort of longing. A need to fill the absence of a father. He couldn’t blame Regis, not when he had a kingdom on his shoulders and a war knocking on his very walls. Neither could he blame Noctis, a withdrawn prince who tried to pass off his loneliness as cool indifference when all he wanted was a pat on the shoulder and a word of praise. Both father and son tried to spend what rare time they could with each other, Regis pushing his meetings and council session as far back as he could just to spare a twenty-minute lunch with his boy, and Noctis keeping whatever complaints he had bottled up because he fully understood that the safety of their people far outweighed his desire for a family dinner.

He’s seen their struggles. Regis would work himself into the early hours of dawn, foregoing sleep and much-needed rest, sacrifice even more of his life and blood for his kingdom, even though the Crystal has taken more than its due. Both Cor and Clarus would have to physically manhandle their King out of his office and into his bedroom, his weak and tired protests swatted down like shriveled up flies.

And Noctis? All he could do was watch his father wither away, see the once all-powerful man speed through his remaining years within months. And bear witness to his future in the face of his own blood, see his life cut short in the lines and wrinkles of Regis’ face.

Cor could never truly replace Regis — he’d never dream of it — but if he could at least help the both of them by just passing off a few dad jokes here and there, then he might just end up writing down a whole list of them just to share with Noctis.

The young man was looking more gloomy as of late, which is why they’ve been going overtime on their sparring session today. Cor’s learned how Noctis ticked, and he knew one of the prince’s flaws was his habit of bottling everything up. But wear his body down enough, and his mind will follow. Eventually, Noctis would have to spill the beans on what’s been weighing on his heart.

“Your focus is slipping, Prince,” Cor chided, tapping his blunt sword at Noctis’ foot. Said prince chose to take his ten-minute break sprawled on the ground, the cool tiles of the indoor training room a balm against his cheek. He’s even taken the liberty of lifting his shirt up to his neck, making the most of his short reprieve and cooling down as fast he can before he’s hauled back up to his feet. Cor tried not to let his eyes linger too long on that smooth skin, or the hint of a scar that wrapped around from his back to his hip bones, or that teasing peek of his chest and a dusty pink nipple —

Right, so maybe his focus was slipping.

Cor coughed into his fist and maneuvered his gaze away, somewhere up to the left of Noctis’ face. “Something on your mind?”

Noctis, unaware of what had just happened, only groaned and rolled his forearm over his face. "Yeah, a lot actually."

Bingo. Cor sat down beside him, placing his practice sword on his lap and folding his hands over it, and decided Noctis deserved more than a ten-minute breather to discuss his woes. He'd sit there and wait for as long as it took anyway, if only to help lighten whatever troubles that shackled his prince's spirits.

"Go on," he encouraged, hoping Noctis was willing to share his burdens rather than keep them to himself. When there's nothing but silence, Cor almost believed those walls weren't worn down enough, was about to think of another method other than physical exhaustion to get the boy to open up.

"It's, uh… Complicated,” Noctis finally said.

"Try me."

"Okay, well. Um. So there's a friend. A real great friend. And we have this little joke, yeah? And we're just going at it, having a good time, but eventually it just kind of escalates. I guess. So do I just keep playing? Am I getting the wrong signals here? Does he feel what I think he feels?" Noctis started rambling, flinging his hands into the air and gesturing this way and that, throwing air quotes or just waving them about.

Cor sort of… Got it. Noctis wasn't releasing any names, but he knew this friend must be male. Prompto, Cor suspected, as he's the only friend Noctis has made outside the Citadel.

" — like playing that dumb penis game. Like, you're in a library or something and you take turns whispering penis louder and louder until one of you chickens out or you get told to shut up. But no one's around to tell you to shut up, and eventually someone's gonna end up yelling penis because you're both pretty stubborn and — "

Cor wasn't sure where Noctis was trying to go with that analogy, but he nodded sagely along and pretends he one hundred percent understood. But whatever the case, he thought Noctis must be wary of where to go, to continue with apparent ignorance until one of them cracked and spilled how they truly feel or to stop and say it aloud at the risk of fracturing their friendship.

" — the hell am I supposed to do? I mean, it's weird, he'll probably think it's weird but what if he doesn't? I know what I feel, and I really want to think it's not my bias giving me false signals, but I'm pretty sure he feels the same way? And if he doesn't, well, that's cool too. I won't push him, but I'd really like him to stick around and not feel pressured to keep up a facade if he feels awkward and — "

Cor leaned over and gently slapped his hand over Noctis' running mouth, and the boy shoots him the classic 'how dare you' look. He shook his head and pulled his hand away, Noctis picking up the signal and keeping his mouth shut.

"Alright, I won't claim to be the best at these things, but I will give my two cents," Cor said, and Noctis perked up at the offer. "Personally, I would confront them, but I understand your caution. If following the rules of the game isn't working, then increase the stakes. If you don't want to directly ask them, do so indirectly but make it so terribly obvious even a blind man can see. Increase the difficulty, bonus round, however you want to think it."

Noctis frowned, mulling over the advice and turning it over in his head. “I… guess I could do that.”

“And if that doesn’t work and that friend of yours turns sour, you have a slew of Crownsguard and I to show up at his doorstep.”

“Stop that.” Noctis smacked Cor’s arm, holding back a laugh as his face brightened up. “That’s power abuse, and I don’t think that’s gonna work on him.”

“Regis would find a kingly way to name it otherwise, I’m sure.”

That earned him another laugh, accompanied by a roll of the eyes, but Noctis already looked several pounds lighter now that he’s gotten it out of his system. Already up again, dusting his shirt and the back off his pants before hefting up his practice sword. Already raring to go for the next round without even being prompted to — nice.

“Hey,” Noctis said, resuming his stance and digging his heels into the floor.

“Yes, Highness?”

"Thanks, daddy."

Huh, Noctis hasn't called him daddy before.

Cor was a damn idiot. A damn, dense idiot.

He really should have seen this coming a mile, no, a hundred miles away. He should have seen the signs on himself before even noticing them on Noctis.

He had seen the odd glances thrown his way, the way Noctis' eyes tended to wander over places they never wandered before, especially with a nuance the prince never used with anyone else.

But when Cor's own eyes lingered just a second too long at the sweat dripping down that slender neck, he realized Noctis matured in more ways than just age and growth. And gods, he would drive his own sword into his heart the moment Regis found out.

Yet when Noctis slammed himself down, he thought there might as well be a blade struck in his chest already, considering the shudder that pierced his nerves and pinned his mind back to reality. Pinned his eyes on Noctis straddling him from above and riding him into the next century. Another obscene slap of skin had Cor bite back a surprised breath, but Noctis looked on from his throne with a shit-eating grin and a lick to his lips. Cor didn't think he'd be that turned on, but well.

“Fucking brat,” he wanted to say, but Noctis’ unrelenting rhythm only allowed him a guttural “ Fuck” instead. And he knew that stroked the prince’s ego even more, considering how he clenched around Cor’s cock at the implied praise. Unfortunately, he couldn't hold back the low groan, and his fingers dug into the pliant flesh of Noctis' hips, barely keeping himself from leaving more than just a few suspicious bruises. Torn between keeping him in place to simply savor the warmth and to drag him underneath to ravage him.

Noctis relented in his pace only to grind himself along, slow and burning and gods damnit, the boy was toying with Cor now. He lifted a hand from Cor’s chest, bare and exposed when Noctis had clawed his way through the shirt and ripped it off — when and how he became so brazen, Cor had wondered for only a moment before lips came devouring after his — and he tiptoed two fingers across the hard planes of Cor’s stomach to his sternum, lightly digging a fingernail there.

“What?” Noctis laughed, eyeing the man with something absolutely devious. “Is daddy gonna punish me?”

Ah, shit. Those words alone were nearly enough to undo him, and he fought to keep his seams together as he squeezed his eyes and dug his skull into the safety mats underneath. Cor never thought he’d have a daddy kink, but neither did he imagine any of this would happen. (There may have been a few ambiguous wet dreams here and there, with a blurry imaged prince and the empty echo of his voice, but he had chopped it up to the dry spell as of late.)

"Oh, I think he likes it." Noctis’ words came in breathy moans, a tell-tale sign of his own arousal and heat. He must be struggling just as much as Cor, slowly rolling his hips and denying that sweet ecstasy from them both, trying to keep his head above water and not drown in the heat of the moment, all in order to relish this rare power he had over the man.

Cor still had his eyes shut tight, but he felt a slow drag of movement and a shift in weight on his chest. There’s warmth beside his face, where damp hair tickled his cheek and eyelids. Lips crawled up the sensitive skin of his neck, to his jaw then his ears, leaving light wet kisses as they explored and conquered. As if there was still anything left to take.

His resistance fell to the wayside the moment Noctis had landed his first proper hit on him, taking Cor by surprise with a tricky warp and knocking them both against the nearest wall. Noctis had held the practice blade up to Cor’s neck, the blunt edge pressing against an artery. And pressing a thigh in between his legs. They had been skirting around the tension for the past few months, using their trading blows and crossing swords as an excuse to press skin upon skin and breath upon breath. But in that moment, something had just snapped. Maybe it had been Cor’s reasoning, or Noctis’ buttons being torn off.

“Does daddy like that?” Noctis whispered into his ear, hot breath ghosting over his skin and sending a shudder down his spine. As if to further torture him, Noctis ground his hips just right and breathed a moan so obscene Cor thought he’d need to go repent at an altar.

Who in the hell taught Noctis to do that? Cor was torn between relinquishing his position to them in promotion and shoving them into the dankest prison cell beneath the Citadel, because this was an utter sin and a blessing all in one.

Under Noctis’ crafty mouth and within his intoxicating warmth, it didn’t take long for Cor to unravel. He arched his back, even lifting Noctis with him, while his hands groped for purchase and settled on the boy’s thighs, and he came in a burst of white stars and sparklers. All sound was drowned out in the rush of blood in his ears, but he could feel Noctis’ mouth groan against his chest and the shudder of his body against his own.

Noctis must have come right after, because Cor saw the streak of milk white on his stomach when he finally opened his eyes again, expecting a sleepy-eyed prince but getting a smug-looking brat instead.

“Heh, thought you’d have a lot more stamina that that, old man,” Noctis said, lolling his head to the side and watching through half-lidded eyes.

Something inside Cor flared at that, even though he knew what game Noctis was playing. Fine, he’ll fall for it, if only to turn that arrogant smile into an utter moaning mess.

“Alright, Highness, you asked for it.” Cor growled and gripped the boy’s hips, flipping their positions with a surprised gasp from Noctis. Cor loomed over him, dragging their hips together with a forceful thrust that had the boy tipping his head back in a sharp inhale and eyes blown wide. “I think you’ve been a bad boy,” he began, nipping at a patch of skin just beneath the collarbone. “And a glutton for punishment.”

Noctis hooked his legs around Cor’s back, practically drawing him closer and deeper, keeping him from backing out with a strength that even impressed Cor, and laced his arms around the man’s neck to rake fingernails against the ridges of his spine. With fluttering eyelashes and the most wicked ‘come hither’ look Cor’s ever witnessed, Noctis tipped forward to nip at the man’s lips and gently roll that soft flesh between his teeth.

Cor would gladly let him eat him alive, he suddenly thought, but of course —

“Then punish me, daddy.”

‘This little shit.’

If Noctis was laughing before, he was screaming now. And Cor would make sure to have him begging and chanting his name before he was through.

“I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into, Highness.”

They're bundled up together, with Noctis atop Cor's chest and tracing a lazy circle on his skin, blanketed by their old clothes, while Cor played with the boy’s wayward hair, absentmindedly twirling a lock around his finger. It's nice, he'll admit, being able to just bask in the afterglow and finally being able to uncoil all that tension that's been building up for gods know how long.

“Don't worry about it, already asked dad."

"You what."

So naturally, Noctis would ruin the moment by casually blurting out one of the man's worst fears. Cor's hand stilled, heart going a mile a minute — and yup, there's the pressure of dread building up in his stomach, ripe and ready for his sword. Noctis must have heard the hammering in his chest because he picked up his head to look Cor dead in the eyes and clasp both cheeks in between his hands.

"Calm down, he's not gonna kill you," he reassured. "Hell, he gave me the shovel talk. His own son! Said underneath that gruff look is a heart that bruises like a peach. Like how you got dumped in your teens and moped around for a good month, writing cheesy poetry and whatever."

Oh, gods. Cor's stuck between relief and mortification. Relief knowing he won't have to redeem himself or repent for his lost honor — for his own, or Noctis', or both — and mortification that Noctis already talked to his own father about all of whatever this is and that Regis had revealed a snippet of his past he thought was buried forever.

Perhaps, it was Cor who should re-analyze what he's gotten himself into.

"Stop thinking so hard," Noctis ordered, shifting his weight over Cor, their clothes sliding off him when he straddled him again. He splayed one hand over Cor's chest while he dipped the other lower, fingers tracing the trail of hair that lead down, over muscle and hip bone and sensitive skin and hard planes of well-earned muscle. "Or I'll make you."

But oh, when his prince looked at him with such favor and demand, lips teasing and tongue sharp, how could Cor ever deny him?

#ff15 #final fantasy xv #cor leonis #kinktober 2019 #noctis lucis caelum #i can type

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r-escribe · 6 years ago

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Even after 100 years we'll be by your side, Kanan

Word count: 1876

Pairing: Kanan x Dia x Mari

Rating: General audience until part two where we could argue if it escalates to teen and up.

AO3

Summary: A year has passed since the 3rd years graduated and went their separate ways. Kanan has doubts about their friendship.

A/N: First of all happy birthday Kanan! Secondly, I'm sorry this is so poorly phrased it's been a while since I last wrote anything or read anything. Also, this was extremely rushed so hopefully it makes some sense... so yeah enjoy. This was posted on AO3 6 days ago so exactly in time for Kanan’s birthday only I forgot to post it here ahaha :)

“Kanan, could you please take my shift tomorrow? I have finals on Monday so I really wanted to do some studying…” said the amethyst colored eyed girl co-worker with an apologizing voice.

“Sure, I got’cha!”

Sure Kanan’s birthday was tomorrow but ever since she graduated from high school and left to get her diving license in Australia, she didn’t get to talk with the rest of Aqours as much as she would have like. Additionally, no one knew it was her birthday so she hadn't any plans.

With that in mind, both girls finished cleaning the shop and waved their goodbyes.

The diver’s apartment wasn’t particularly big, well it was small, but big enough to fit one person. Especially when that person only went there to change clothes and get some sleep. It had a single bedroom with a connected bathroom, the only separation between the kitchen and the living room/dining room was an island.

Kanan put her keys on said island and took a shower. She put on a black tank top and a pair of shorts. She took an apple from her kitchen and laid down on her bed, and took her phone. It wasn’t unusual for her to look at the photo album she named “Aqours”, she had some photos of their lives, practices, sleepovers, that time they went to Tokyo, Hakodate, even some with Saint Snow. Kanan smiled slightly. She missed her friends, last time they were all together was when the then 3rd years graduated. The navy blue haired girl closed her eyes. When Mari, Dia, and herself first left Uchiura they would all 9 of them try to video call as much as possible, but of course life moves on and soon what had been 2 or 3 calls per week soon became 1 once a week and now with the second years graduating soon a call once every 2-3 weeks. They still sent a bunch of messages but being 2 hours ahead of Tokyo’s time either there was no one to talk with, or she had to start work soon. As for the 3rd years group chat, with all of them in different time zones, it was hard to keep a full conversation. Even though they met only about a month ago in Tokyo to celebrate Dia’s birthday Kanan felt as if it had been years since they talked, years since she hugged them. A single tear came out of amethyst eyes and the diver quickly cleaned it. Don’t. In only a few hours is your birthday and the girls probably want to video call you. You can’t let them see you like this, specially Dia or Mari. Don’t cry; for them. As soon as those thoughts were out of her mind she stared at the ceiling. Maybe they’ll come visit, Mari and I went to Tokyo for Dia’s birthday maybe they’ll come too. Just maybe… And soon she was asleep.

“....Shall we dance?, Yume no you ni odorimashou, Hitoyo no wasurerarenai shinderera, Kutsu wo nuide okeba nakusanai yo karuku hayaku, Dare o yobou ka? Moriagaru ne!...” G Senjou no Cinderella came through her phone’s speakers, time to wake up and get ready for work. Kanan rubbed her eyes and sat at the edge of the mattress. “...Shall we dance?, Kurukuru to mawarimashou…” the music kept going, not because Kanan didn’t know how to turn her alarm off but because she liked it. It was only Mari, Dia, and herself singing the song, the first song they sang only the three of them after forming Aqours. Once the song reached its end Kanan took her phone and saw quite a few messages on her phone screen, some were from the Aqours’ group chat.

Little Mikan: HAPPY B-DAY KANAN-CHAN! I’ve reserved some mikans only for you!

Yohane (Yoshiko made her change her name before she left): Little demon, you’ve attained full maturity now, use this power wisely.

You: Happy B-day Kanan-chan! Next time you visit we’ll go diving!

Ruby: Happy birthday Kanan-chan! Let’s keep having fun together like we did when you took care of me!

Hanamaru: Happy B-dAy KAnan-chaN! i LeARned how To usE my Ph0ne to send YoU this MeSSage!

Riko: Kanan-chan Happy birthday! When you come to visit we should get ice cream again

Dia: Kanan-san happy birthday.

Mari: Come on Dia!

Mari: I told you you can say Kanan-CHAN! And don’t just . your message

Mari: Here use this xD

Dia: Never.

Mari: You can do it better, do it for Kanan.

Dia: … Fine…

Dia: Happy birthday Kanan-chan!

Dia: There are you pleased now?

Mari: Very much indeed

Mari: But now it’s my turn!

Mari: HAPPY B-DAY KANAN!!!!

Riko: Wait, how come no one said anything while you two were arguing?

Mari: Well my dear Rikochi it’s simple

Mari: Dia threatened everyone to only say their birthday message

Mari: Since it’s like 2 am for Kanan and she didn’t want us to wake her up

Dia: Yes I did, and I would appreciate if you also kept that and stop messaging her.

Mari: Boring…

Mari: But fine, we’ll call her later

Mari: Anyways let’s do it one last time

All users typed: Kanan-chan! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

A sob escaped Kanan’s lips as she tipped a big “Thanks everyone, I can’t wait to go back!”, she wanted to thank each one of them individually but she wanted to call Dia and Mari. And so she did. Even though it was weekend Dia would wake up at 6:30 as usual and Mari would go to sleep around 11, so they should both be awake at that time. Mari was the first one to answer.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY KANAN!” the blonde girl shouted at the top of her lungs. Kanan didn’t even have time to answer as Dia joined the call, “Kanan-san happy birthday” although Dia tried to say it as calm as possible she was smiling and the last syllables had a cheerful tone.

“Thanks!” And Kanan smiled wide open.

“So what can we do for our birthday girl on this marvelous day?”

Kanan’s face started to heat up, how could she ask them if they were planning to visit her today? Maybe they were too busy and couldn’t, she didn’t want to make her two best friends feel guilty. No no no. They were coming and if not they’d eventually see each other, there’s nothing to worry about right?

“W-well, I...umm…”

“Come on Kanan you can tell us anything.” Encouraged her tallest friend.

“Kanan-s...Kanan is something wrong?” Asked the brunette.

“No it’s nothing, ahaha...I just wanted to talk with you but I need to get going or I’ll be late for work and you wouldn’t want me to be late right Dia? Ahaha so umm yeah talk with you later alright? Okay bye!”

“Wait Kana-”

Too late Kanan had already pressed the end call button. What are you doing? You’re acting as if you were 15 again, haven’t you learned anything? She asked herself. I guess I haven’t. Not wanting to think about it anymore Kanan finished getting ready and went to work.

Kanan had never been an observer, or attentive, especially for small details. That’s why she never realized that both Dia and Mari were wearing earphones, or that Mari wasn’t wearing a pajama and Dia wasn’t wearing her kimono. Or the fact that both seemed to be inside and not outside.

Sunday February 10th, a rather slow day at the shop. Well since it was Sunday the shift wasn’t that long so around 3:30 the navy blue haired girl start doing the pre-close up. She started taking the oxygen tanks inside, moved to make the inventory and by 3:55 she was almost done. She went back to the counter and start writing everything on the computer. The entrance bell rang.

“Welcome, we’ll be closing in 5 minutes if you want to take a diving les-”

“Well I don’t know, what you say Dia should we take a lesson?”

“Hmm with how thigh our schedule is I don’t think we’ll have time, but maybe we can work something out.”

Mari. Dia. Mari and Dia. Both of them. In front of her. Okay that was it Kanan had gone completely insane.

“Well don’t stand there give us a hug”, Mari demanded as both herself and Dia opened her arms waiting to be completed. Kanan didn’t think about it she ran straight to her friends and gave them the hug she had so long waited for. Tears making their way through her face.

“B-b-but how?”

“It’s your birthday you dummy.”

“We wouldn’t have missed it for anything.” Said Dia. “Mari traveled from Italy to Tokyo 3 days ago, we took a plane last night-”

“But you sent the messages at 12 am, h-how come?”

“Aqours of course!” Replied Mari. Kanan, who had calmed a bit took a step back to look at these beautiful girls who for a reason she still didn’t fully understand were her friends. Dia and Mari took each other’s hands and then Kanan’s.

“Well”, continued Mari, “we asked them to help us cover up our plan so everything was staged.”

“To say it in a way.” Added Dia.

“So Kanan,” they said in unison. “Happy birthday!”

Kanan was still processing everything that was going on but she could do that tomorrow, right now she only cared of being with Dia and Mari, she hugged them again and kept crying.

“Now now, we don’t want to make the birthday girl happy, shall we Mari-san?”

“Of course!”

And Kanan got a kiss on each cheek from her two friends. Before she could react both brunette and blonde haired girls were dragging her out of the store.

A/N: this is not that relevant to the story and the rating could go (depends on how you look at it) up to teens.

They arrived at Kanan’s apartment and as soon as Kanan unlocked the door Mari was entering and laying on the couch.

“Please have some manners,” said Dia with a small sigh and Kanan couldn’t help but laugh at both of them. 100 years could go by and the three of them would still act the same way they did when they were kids.

Kanan took their suitcases to her room and left them there. She couldn’t make it outside the bedroom since Mari had jumped over her and pushed them both to the bed.

“Wha-Mari? G-get off.”

“No” Although both of them tried to sound serious they couldn’t keep the facade and gave up to laughter.

“D-Dia,” started Kanan in between laughers “come quick! Mari won’t get off me!”

The girl with emerald eyes entered the room but instead of helping Kanan she threw herself onto the bed and was on top of Mari and Kanan.

“O-okay I-I give up!” finally stated Kanan and Dia got off of her. Mari on the other hand just stared at Kanan’s face. She took her chin and lightly kissed her. “Happy birthday Kanan.” Whispered Mari and got off of her. Dia not wanting to be left behind approached Kanan from the side and press slightly her lips to Kanan’s. “Yeah happy birthday Kanan.”

Mari and Dia looked at each other and then at the girl under them. They still had some days before going back to Italy and Japan and they didn’t want to waste any of them.

#kanadiamari #diamarikanan #3rd years #kanan matsuura #dia kurosawa #mari ohara #love live! sunshine!!#My writing #so if you read the last bit whatever happens next I leave it up to you #I couldn't choose between kanadia or kanamari so i tried to do both #it's been so long since i last wrote something for the 3rd years #i just hope i got a grasp of kanan's feelings and character in general #anyways thanks for reading

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lilithhawthorne · 7 years ago

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Maiden Phoenix

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Mass Effect Trilogy, Mass Effect - All Media Types Rating: Mature Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian Cross Posted on AO3 First // Previous / Next

Many thanks to @black-rose4 for providing edits and suggestions! <3

The Lazarus Project has failed and Commander Shepard, long dead to the rest of the galaxy, is declared useless to Cerebus. Miranda Lawson has a backup plan in the form of a smuggler who bears a shocking resemblance to the former war hero. With the promise of a fresh start, Elisha agrees to assume Shepard's identity. She'll have to gather her crew, run her ship, and save the galaxy in the way only Shepard could. What could go wrong?

Or; Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire: the Strange AU No One Asked For

The bar was doing a good job drowning out the sound of the Galactic News broadcast, and each time the bartender increased the volume, the drunken and sober alike rose their voice to join the clamor.

Elisha leaned closer to her companion, straining to hear over the competition that was taking place between flesh and technology. She braced her elbows on the table, her chest nearly pressed against the sticky top as she lifted out of her chair. “I can’t hear you,” she shouted needlessly.

Jeks contorted his lipless mouth into what she thought was a scowl and blinked big, black eyes at her. If he meant to harangue her about the location she picked - a favorite of his before they ever got down to business - his quick tongue reply was lost in the roar of another, louder voice.

“Hey!” a big man yelled, two meaty fists the size of Elisha’s head crashing down on his table with enough force to cause the drinks of his companion to slosh. The inharmonious crescendo of voices petered to a murmur. “Look,” he commanded.

The bar followed his gaze to the screen that took up one wall.

“-drive core was breached when an unknown ship-”

Elisha and the rest of the bar watched in silence, the wreckage of the Normandy floating across the screen, the hull ripped apart and pieces of her interior splayed across the void of space. Across from her, Jeks sucked in a ragged breath. All around the bar, patrons offered their own sounds of sorrow, gasps, and murmurs, a forceful but whispered, “ah fuck.”

The human woman on the screen was hyper-focused, her pupils dilated as she read the text that was no doubt being supplied just off-screen. High definition and droid mounted cameras came with their drawbacks; everyone watching could see this woman’s panic, her eyes darting back and forth as she rushed to get the news out.

“Commander Jane Shepard, Hero of the Citadel and the first human Spectre”- a photo of the famed commander appeared in the upper right side, the woman looking smart in her blues -“has been reported dead.”

The woman pressed on, details about the rest of the crew and total casualties, but it was clear no one cared about anything else she had to say. Everyone was speaking at once, the shock of the situation escalating from the silent to noisy kind.

“I met the commander once,” someone began the table over, the boast met with an incredulous snicker by others.

“-the krogan tore about the bar before-“ someone else was saying.

“Wow,” Elisha sighed. She looked at the screen once more and noticed a red banner scrolling across the top of the screen: COMMANDER SHEPARD DEAD it declared. “I guess being a hero doesn’t stop one good shot at your ship from killing you.”

“Yikes,” Jeks moaned, “that’s a little morbid.”

She shrugged and took a sip of the drink she had been neglecting. It was too sweet, sticky and viscous, and she smacked her lips to keep them from sticking together. Jeks squinted one eye at her, then looked at the newsfeed. “Has anyone ever told you that you kind of look like her?” he asked, motioning with his head towards the screen.

They had switched to a new photo, this one less staged than the Alliance headshot. Shepard was wearing a black hard suit, a crisp - it had to be freshly painted, right? - red line on her right arm. She was looking over her shoulder as she stepped onto the Normandy, one hand raised in what could have been a wave or the beginning of a profane gesture. Her expression was blank, carefully neutral if Elisha had a guess at what was going on in her head, her signature red hair pulled high and tight in a bun. There was a turian in blue armor a step behind her, and another human woman was waiting just outside the airlock. The other woman looked grim despite wearing what appeared to be pink armor, her arms crossed and hip cocked as she scowled, presumably, at the camera.

Elisha rolled her head, letting it dip from left to right, her eyes following the motion while he watched her performance, unimpressed and unblinking. “That’s not true,” she tutted. And she had heard it enough times to be unimpressed with the comparison.

“Close enough.” He lifted his thin shoulders into the air and put up a hand before saying, “But hey, what does that matter now? No fame in looking like a dead war hero.”

“Whoa! Talk about morbid,” she teased with a toothy grin.

The mood in the bar had shifted again, and even with the news flashing images from the destruction of the Citadel, the jaunty vibe and shouting had resumed. There wasn’t anyone in the bar who wasn’t in some way touched by what Shepard and her crew had done during the battle of the Citadel, but war heroes could only hold their attention for so long. The news would be on repeat for weeks, there would be public and private ceremonies to honor the commander and any other lives lost this day, and at more appropriate places. The most they could do here was drink to the honor of the dead human.

“Enough talk, period.” Jeks brought his omnitool to life, the orange glow casting his face in an eerie pallor. He tapped on the ghostly keyboard with the nubs of his fingers, and within seconds, Elisha had received an alert. She tapped at her own omnitool, listening with a smile as her companion, Bekir, confirmed the credit transfer.

“A pleasure,” she said with feeling. She rose to her feet, stretching her arms above her head and hearing a pop as her left shoulder protested. “Dock 372.”

Jeks stayed seated, relaxing into the chair and motioning with two fingers for one of the staff to bring him another drink. “Wars never end, and neither does business.”

“You’ve always been my favorite client,” she told him, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial stage whisper. “I’m sure you’ll be in touch.”

She didn’t wait for Jeks response, eager to get to her ship and skitter back to Omega. The cargo had been difficult to procure, and Jeks had rewarded her handsomely for the added risk he assumed she had taken to get it. Even without the bonus, it was a fat paycheck and would get the repairs she and the crew needed. Some of those repairs would come in liquid form, something from Thessia maybe. The team would love her for that. They might even do what she said for once.

The thought brought a smile to her lips. If ever there was a way to a smuggler’s heart, it was alcohol.

Dr. Wilson reran the simulation. He was past the point of denial where he hoped watching it again would miraculously produce a new, more favorable outcome. Now he watched it as a punishment.

The holographic model of Shepard stretched before him, the orange lines that represented the parts of her they could fix intersecting with gaps, black holes in the data where nothing was being transmitted. Her head was missing from the hologram. Well, more specifically; her brain. If he wanted to, he could prop the body up, manipulate the cybernetic implants in her arms and legs to give her the appearance of movement. With the help of someone at the controls, the Shepard puppet could walk across the room, all elbows and knees, lurching forward like she was being pulled along a string. It wasn’t far off from the truth.

The door slid open, the sharp snap of heels giving away Miranda Lawson without her needing to say anything. Wilson changed the view without a word, bringing up the scans of Shepard’s brain and enlarging them across the holo-emitter. There was a small, rectangular mark on the scans, the implant showing up as a black spot where it was attached to her cerebellum, another buried in the prefrontal cortex. Hidden from view were the wires running between the two and branching out into the other areas of the brain, a paltry mimicry of the neural network they had lost.

“She’s useless to us like this,” he said, even though he didn’t need to. He had worked with Miranda long enough to enjoy seeing her disappointed, and he was rewarded when her mouth pressed into a thin line, her frustration gouged deep in the lines of her face. “We have a puppet, and for all the money we spent, we could have built an army of VI programs that can do as much as she can right now.”

“Would you say it’s a lost cause?” She turned to the doctor. It was a dangerous question, one belied by her casual tone. She might as well be asking him if he didn’t like dinner, if they should order something. Only in this situation, there might as well be a gun to his head, because if she didn’t like his answer, she would probably kill him on direct orders from the boss. No, honey, the charring adds flavor.

He considered his words carefully, but there was no use in denying the inevitable. He had been working in the dark, isolated ward for nearly two years, his work too high risk to allow him communications with anyone outside the staff he was provided. He had even been forced to wear their ugly uniform, black and orange. It was unflattering and he hated it.

With the finality the situation merited, he looked at her and gave a curt nod. “It isn’t possible.”

She looked stricken. Perhaps she thought he had a secret ace up his sleeve, or that he would beg for more time and delay the inevitable another six months. True to her nature, she recovered quickly and her expression melted into something almost serene. Her head was one that he would have given anything to peek inside.

“Thank you for your work, doctor.”

The sincerity of her voice touched him, and he was thrown off guard. She reached out a hand, and he took it. They had done good work over the past two years, even if it hadn’t been a success. What they had been able to discover would -

His death was quick. Even if she hadn’t been so close to him, she knew where to aim. She let go of his hand as he dropped to the floor, limp and losing color rapidly as he bled all over the floor. Miranda holstered her gun and tapped her omnitool, allowing it to begin transmitting her voice. “Put in motion Maiden Phoenix.”

This was the longest she had been behind bars, and Elisha was feeling the itch of claustrophobia that accompanied her anxiety. She pressed her face against the transparent barrier that separated her cell from the hallway. There were three, fist-sized holes along the top, just out of her reach, and three more at the bottom. She guessed it was to make her feel like she wasn’t trapped in a coffin, but it only succeeded in making her feel like an insect.

“Hello?” she called past the glass, her nose and cheeks distorted as she looked out.

This was unusual. It had never taken Bekir long to get her out. They had a fund put aside for bribes exclusively, and it was well padded before she had been busted.

Could there be no more corrupt C-Sec? she thought with a sudden chill of horror. She pouted for a moment, breathed on the glass and drew a frowny face in the fog left behind. The thought, as chilling as it was to a well-versed smuggler such as herself, was unlikely. She wiped away the frowny face, huffed on the glass again, redrew a happy face.

Bekir would come. He always had, always would.

Placated, however briefly, she returned to the cot that jutted from the wall and settled herself as comfortably as she could. Across the hall from her, an asari was sleeping, one arm hanging off the bed and the other propped against the wall. Although the bed couldn’t promise a level of comfort the asari had clearly achieved, Elisha made a go of resting. Propped up in the corner, it was almost like sleeping in one of the chairs on the bridge of her ship.

If she managed to fall asleep, she didn’t wake up feeling rested. The loud echo of shoes in the hallway startled her awake, chasing away the benefits of rest with a healthy dose of adrenaline. She had always been a light sleeper, but the feeling of waking up in an unfamiliar bed, blazing white lights overhead, kicked her into overdrive. She tuned her eyes to the door, taking in the two figures that stood there now.

One was slightly familiar, the human who had escorted her to the cell. He was tall and thin, lanky even, with too big hands that seemed peculiar sprouting from his bony wrists. Their walk to the cell had been taciturn and without pleasantries, but he looked frightened half to death now. All the color in his face had migrated to his cheeks, his complexion sallow in comparison to the crimson flush. From a guess at their body language, it was the woman next to him making him so nervous.

“It’s remarkable,” the woman breathed. She was staring at Elisha with a feverishly bright gaze, sizing her up like she was a buffet with too many options.

“What’s going on?” Elisha directed her question towards the guard who was waving his ID in front of the scanner. The device blinked a green light, and the door to the cell slid into the wall.

“Let’s go,” he said, ignoring her question and gesturing with one of his knuckly hands for her to step out. When she made no effort to move, he repeated the motion. “You’re being released,” he said with a barely hidden hint of exasperation, like that explained everything.

She stayed rooted to her cot. “Who am I being released to?” she demanded. Now she focused her attention on the woman dressed in white. The women locked eyes, and Elisha glowered, her shoulders rolling back and her chest puffing out. The other woman’s smile deepened, and without breaking eye contact, she tilted her head to the guard and commanded him: “go.”

The guard didn’t raise a fuss, and he made a hasty retreat, his shoes scuffing the length of the hallway.

“Hello, Elisha Cirillo. My name is Miranda Lawson. I represent a group that is dedicated to preserving humanities interests across the galaxy, and I have need of your skills.”

#shakarian fan fic #shakarian fanfic #mass effect fanfiction #mass effect fan fiction #mass effect au #mass effect #shakarian #fshakarian #long post #my writing #maiden phoenix #first reblog

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joeybelle · 7 years ago

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Oh, how the tables have turned -- Part 4

Clyde Logan x Reader

Inspired by @clyde-prompts: “Some guys are rude and use ableist slurs against Clyde. The reader is with them, and although she feels bad about what’s happening, is too scared to say anything in front of her “friends”. She comes back to the bar a couple nights later to try and show him she’s not a bad person. They get to know each other and fall in love”. Doesn’t fully follow the prompt

Warnings: Language, first person POV, driving under the influence cause I assume everyone does it in that movie, IDK what I’m doing.

Rating: Mature

Setting: Pre-Heist

Tags: @lonelyravenclaw @kyloren-supreme-ben @onmyknees4steve @elsablackswift @helloimindelaware @mwcritics

A.N: Aaaaand part 4 is here, hope you guys enjoy it!

“Me?” I said, taken by surprise. “You want to get me one too?”

“Yep,” he said, not looking me in the eye.

“Okay.” I grinned and turned to look at the booth, scanning the toys on display. To be honest, none of them caught my eye, but I really wanted Clyde to win me one.

“Get her the big one,” Jimmy butted in after placing Sadie back on the ground, pointing to a giant white teddy bear with a checkered bow under his chin that was placed above the other toys.

“Do you want that one?” Clyde asked me and I shrugged. I didn’t really care, since it wasn’t about the toy.

“Any of them is fine, really.”

“Okay.”

“You need to hit those ten targets for the big one. Bullseye,” said the man behind the counter, annoyance clearly visible on his face. By the way he frowned he didn’t seem to be used to people winning his game that easily.

Clyde paid the fee and took the rifle once again. This time he used his prosthetic arm for added stability and took his time to aim. My breath caught in my throat with every shot and with every fallen target my excitement grew. Bullseye after bullseye until the seventh target didn’t fall. It was weird, because I was pretty sure it was also a bullseye. Clyde frowned, just as confused as me, but proceeded to hit the other targets.

“Well, better luck next time,” the man said, with a satisfied grin on his face, extending his hand to take the gun back from Clyde.

“I want another round,” Clyde said, pushing the money towards him.

“Uuuh… maybe we should let someone else try?” the man tried getting away from this. He seemed like a really unpleasant person. “It’s a kid’s game after all.”

“Really?” Jimmy asked, leaning on the counter. “Cause I don’t see any sign sayin’ ‘you gotta be this old to shoot’. And his money was good enough the first three rounds.”

“Well, you see…”

“No, I don’t see,” he cut him off, and for a moment his voice became pretty threatening. “Let him try again, he’s got a girl to impress.”

I knew I was blushing so I pretended to be very interested in the contents of another booth, missing the rest of the conversation. When I was sure that my cheeks had somewhat regained their normal colour, Clyde was ready to shoot once again. This time, he aimed for the seventh target alone. Ten shots later, one more precise than the other, and the target was still standing.

“The spring is too strong for the power of this rifle. No matter how many times you shoot it won’t budge.”

“It’s not true, maybe you didn’t hit it right in the center.”

“I’m sure I did,” he said and for the first time his voice took on a menacing tone.

“Really, old man? Have you seen him shoot? I can guarantee that he landed every shot.”

“The target’s still standing, there’s nothing...”

“Do you want me to bring a real gun, I’ve got one in my car. See if your targets still stands then. But you gotta hope he doesn’t miss and lands one in that crusty ass of yours.” He seemed really serious this time so I decided it was time to intervene before shit hit the fan. Both brothers seemed really stubborn, and I could understand why, but it just wasn’t worth it. Everyone knew these games were rigged, and it’s not like I really wanted that toy.

I walked over to Clyde and placed my hand on his elbow to get his attention. He looked at me and the tense expression on his face loosened up a bit. “It’s ok,” I said softly, trying to get him to calm down. “I don’t really need the toy. I’m already impressed so no need to get into an argument for this.”

“Give him the damn bear, or I’m setting your booth on fire,” I heard Jimmy snarl, and my jaw dropped. So much for trying to de-escalate the situation.

“You can’t do that,” the man laughed, but there was fear in his eyes.

“Try me.”

The vendor looked from Jimmy to Clyde, who had a steely expression on his face, to me, still clinging onto Clyde’s elbow like a scared mouse, to Mellie who had a mocking smile on her face. Sadie was the only one who was hugging her toy and didn’t seem to give a damn. The man sighed and muttered an array of curses, but took the bear and threw it on the counter.

“Take it and get lost! I don’t wanna see any of you ever again!” he spat and turned his back to us.

I realized I was still clinging to Clyde’s arm when he moved to place the rifle on the counter so I let go. I was so close I could smell his cologne and it send a shiver down my spine. He didn’t seem to notice as he grabbed the bear so I did my best not to appear flustered when he returned.

“Here you go,” he said, handing me the giant teddy, his face calm once again, like he hadn’t been ready to snap that man’s neck just a few moments before. I cheerfully thanked him and took the toy.

The bear was huge. It might not have been as tall as me, but it was definitely much wider. I struggled to hold it, trying my best not to drag its feet on the ground and mess up its pristine, white coat. With it in my arms I couldn’t see the ground I was walking on and nearly stepped on Sadie who was laughing at me the whole time.

“I think it’s better if I carry that,” Clyde said, taking the bear from my grasp. He was taller, so the toy didn’t seem to smother him like it did to me. He grabbed it by the bow and flung it over his shoulder like a duffle bag.

“Thanks,” I said, able to breathe once again, “but now I should be going. I still have a lot of things to do today and I have work tomorrow, so…”

The whole outing ended up being much longer than the half an hour I had promised in the beginning, but I didn't mind. I had some time to catch up with Mellie as we were stuffing our faces and I was pleasantly surprised that we still got along pretty well. Sadie was a sweetheart and despite finding him a little annoying at first, Jimmy was really nice too. His sense of humour was a little blunt and sometimes pretty acid, but I liked him. Clyde kept his distance most of the time, and didn’t talk to me that much, but I guessed that was just how he was. He didn’t really seem bothered by my presence, so I just assumed he was a bit more of the introverted type. But no matter how much I enjoyed it, it was time for me to go home.

“Alright,” Clyde said, and for the first time no one argued. “I’ll walk you to your car.” At first I wanted to protest because I’m a big girl and I can see myself to the car, but then I realized that if a cute guy wants to walk with me, why should I refuse? After all, I really liked him and this was a chance to spend five minutes alone with him. Yes, I knew nothing would happen, but my brain latched onto any tiny amount of hope.

“Don’t forget to call about the roof,” Jimmy said, picking Sadie up and giving her a kiss.

I’d completely forgotten about the roof. “Yeah, I will give you a call the moment I know when I’m free,” I lied and ruffled Sadie’s hair. I told her she could come visit me anytime she wanted, to help me find the blueberry bushes in the chaos that was currently my garden. Mellie gave me a hug and promised she’d call when she had some time off so we’d get coffee together and catch up on things.

I turned to look at Clyde and burst out laughing at how comical he looked with his serious face and the head of the bear peeking over his shoulder. “I kinda see a resemblance between the two of you,” I said, pointing towards the bear’s nose, making Clyde turn his head to look at it. “I think I’ll name it ‘Clyde The Bear’, whatcha say, Sadie?”

“Yesss!” she laughed, and Clyde the Human frowned at the both of us.

“Well, take care of both of them,” Jimmy said with a wink, before being dragged by Sadie to another attraction.

“Bye, sweetie,” Mellie waved and followed her brother.

So now it was just me and Clyde and I had a feeling it was going to get awkward fast, so I started walking towards where I remembered parking my car earlier that day. Clyde followed me closely, like a big and benevolent shadow.

“Are you really gonna name it Clyde the Bear?” he asked out of the blue.

“Yeah. I mean, if it doesn’t bother you.”

“No, it doesn’t bother me,” he said and he had the tiniest of smiles on his face.

“Ok then, Clyde the Bear it is,” I said with a grin, but he looked away.

He was silent the rest of the way to my car. I unlocked it and he shoved the giant toy in the backseat, making sure to position it so that I could still use my rearview mirror. I was getting ready to thank him and say goodbye when he spoke again.

“I wanted to apologize,” he said, passing a hand through his hair.

“For what?” I was genuinely confused. He’d already apologized for Jimmy kidnapping me for the day, and I really hoped he noticed that I was having a really good time so he wouldn’t start again.

“For being rude to you. Last time, at the bar…” He seemed really nervous once again.

“You weren’t being rude,” I said, suddenly nervous myself. “I crossed some boundaries without realizing. And I may have also overreacted a bit. The exit might have a bit more dramatic than necessary,” I mumbled.

“Anyway,” he said, and it seemed like he was making a conscious effort to force the words out of his mouth. “I’m gonna be at the bar later if you wanna drop by and have some drinks. On the house, of course,” he added, increasingly flustered.

This was getting tricky, because I didn’t really know if he was asking me out or just trying to make it up to me for the rejection. I knew I could always ask, but given the way he reacted to me asking him out the last time, the direct approach didn’t seem to be the best idea. So now I really didn’t know if he was interested or not, but I decided to go with the flow. If he liked me, he’d tell me at some point and if not, I’d still make a friend, and that was great. Just don’t fall too deep.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to drop by tonight,” I told him, truthfully. “I still have a lot of things to do and an early class tomorrow, but can I take a rain check on that?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. You’re always welcome to come over. Anytime you want.”

“Perfect, thank you.” I smiled. He was really cute when he was flustered like that.

I said goodbye and got in my car. He followed me with his gaze until I left the parking lot, and even then I could still see his outline in the rearview mirror. A gentle giant in the sea of parked vehicles, watching over me. It made me smile.

I don’t really know how I got home, because my mind was full of Clyde Logan and replays of every little detail of what happened earlier that day. I really hoped I hadn’t ran anyone over with my car, because I was pretty sure I didn’t need the jail time.

I pulled Clyde the Bear out of the backseat and kicked the door shut, almost stumbling down in the process. I was surprised to notice that it faintly smelled like Clyde’s cologne. While I was planning to shove it in the washing machine the moment I got home I was starting to have second thoughts.

I went straight to my bedroom and threw the bear onto my bed, then after a few seconds of pondering I plopped down next to it. I was so tired. It ended up being really fun day, despite the odds, but it left me drained of energy. Walking around and eating all that crap had taken a toll on me, but I was sure that if I only closed my eyes and rested for ten minutes I’d be able to finish the chores for the day. And who knows, maybe even grab a beer at Clyde’s bar later that night.

When I woke up it was already dark. I had to fish the phone out of my pocket to see how late it actually was. Ten thirty. Crap. Double crap. I hadn’t planned on falling asleep at all, let alone for so many hours, still dressed in my day clothes, in the most uncomfortable position ever. Every inch of my body hurt.

I crawled over to the bathroom and peeled off my clothes, discarding them in the already full laundry basket. I had laundry to do. Well, it was too late for that now, but luckily I still had some clean work clothes for the next day. I was running out of underwear though. I stepped into the shower, hoping that the water would help clear the brain fog the impromptu nap had left behind. Even if I skipped doing the laundry, I still had a mountain of dishes left to fester in the kitchen sink. I had nothing prepared for tomorrow’s lunch so I’d have to either starve or eat out, and since my budget was running tight, I couldn’t really afford to eat out if I wanted to buy groceries this week. And speaking of groceries, there wasn’t much left in the fridge anyway, so I’d have to make do with just toast and coffee in the morning. I hadn’t vacuumed. I hadn’t cleaned the bathroom. There was a report that I promised I’d start working on today. I was screwed.

I spent the next fifteen minutes just laying down on my bed, wrapped in a towel, completely overwhelmed. I didn’t even know where to start, so in the heat of the moment I decided to just not do any of it. In a burst of energy given by the power of insanity I threw the towel on the floor and rummaged through my closet, looking for anything clean. I got dressed in a hurry—after all, I had no idea at what hour the bar was closing and tomorrow was a work day—grabbed my purse and was out the door without even looking back at my forgotten responsibilities. I didn’t take the car, instead I walked. It was only a fifteen minute walk at most, and I wanted to enjoy the cool night air.

The bar was surprisingly lively when I entered. There were a lot more people than the last time I’d been there, watching a game on the flat screen tv. There were a few people seated at the bar, so I chose to sit in a corner, as far away from the others as possible.

“Finished all your work?” Clyde asked from the other side of the counter.

“Yeah, yeah,” I lied, but couldn’t keep a straight face. “By which I mean I fell asleep the moment I got home and napped until like half an hour ago and did absolutely nothing.” Clyde laughed and it was the first time I’d heard him laugh out loud. “So I did what every responsible adult would do in this situation: went out for a drink.”

“What can I get you?”

“I don’t know. A beer?” I shrugged.

“It’s on the house, are you sure you don’t want anything else?”

“Hmm… I think I’ll trust my bartender then,” I said, flashing him one of my best smiles.

“Another cocktail or something stronger this time?” he asked, placing a napkin in front of me.

“I walked here, and since I know I won’t fall asleep after that nap, I might as well get shitfaced and faint instead. Gimme something strong.”

“Alright,” he said, placing two shot glasses on the counter, one in front of me and one in front of himself. He chose a bottle from the rack behind me and filled the glasses. “Cheers,” he said, lifting his glass.

I imitated him, downing my own drink. The sudden burn of the alcohol running down my throat made me grimace, no matter how much I tried keeping a straight face. He just smirked.

“Is it better or worse than your expensive vodka?” he asked, the smirk still playing on his lips. He seemed a lot more open and in a much better mood than he was earlier that day, something that made me think the shot of vodka he had shared with me wasn’t the first one of the night. But I wasn’t complaining, not at all. Anything that kept the smile on his face was good by me. He was much cuter when he smiled.

“I have no idea, to be honest. I only drink for the buzz, the drink itself doesn't really matter. Besides, I’ve been drinking cheap alcohol for so long that I think I’ve fried my tastebuds already.”

“Well then, maybe you should start drinking better alcohol,” he said, this time chilling the vodka over ice and pouring it in a tumbler, before placing the glass in front of me. “And savour it.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” I said, smiling at the seriousness in his voice. “You know, I still have like… three quarters of the bottle left. I’m waiting for you to come and tell me if it’s worth the shitload of money my friends paid for it.”

“I might actually take you up on that offer one day,” he said, and turned around to tend to other customers. Oh, will you now?

“Well then you better hurry, cause I keep drinking from it and it will be empty eventually,” I said, raising my voice to make sure he could hear me.

What kind of game are you playing with me, Clyde Logan, I thought taking the opportunity to check out his ass. He really had a great ass. And an amazing back. I tried imagining what his bare skin would feel like under my fingers and if all of his body was just as full of beauty marks as his face. I took a big gulp of vodka, hoping that the alcohol would purify my thoughts and I actually remembered to swish it though my mouth before letting it burn down my esophagus. Yep, it tasted exactly like vodka. And future bad decisions.

“So how come we never talked in highschool?” I asked, once he turned back to me. “I mean, we must have bumped into each other, the school wasn’t that big.” It wasn’t my intention to talk about his crush on me, but it really bugged me how I’d never noticed him. I know the thing about secret admirers is the ‘secret’, but you should at least be aware of their existence.

He shrugged. “I guess I just used to be invisible.”

“I can hardly believe that,” I laughed. “Even if you were just half as big as you are now, you would have still been pretty noticeable.” I took another gulp of vodka, to make sure I had a reason to be blushing. “I have no idea what I just said but you should probably take it as a compliment.”

Clyde smiled and refilled my glass, then poured one for himself too. “I mostly kept to myself. I didn’t like attracting too much attention.”

“Why’s that?”

“People laughed,” he said, and a shadow passed over his features. He hastily downed his drink, as though he tried to wash away the memory.

“Well, people are shit,” I announced in a theatrical tone. It seemed that the alcohol had already gone to my head. “You should have come to me and my friends instead.”

“Really?” he smiled, and leaned on the counter.

“Yeah, we were awesome. Not asholes or anything. You would have loved us,” I said, and chuckled at the blatant lie. Truth was, many wanted to be us, but no one really liked us. “Maggie would have made a cheerleader out of you. And you would have been good at it,” I said pointing a finger at his nose. “You’re tall and athletic and you could have pulled that… that… the fuck was it called? When you throw someone in the air and catch them before they faceplant?”

“How come you didn’t join the cheerleading squad?”

“I tried. Went with Maggie to the tryouts. She made the team and I broke my nose,” I said with a grimace. “There was blood everywhere. But I think if you would have been on the team you would have caught me.”

“I would have tried my best.”

“It wasn’t for me anyway. Too much work and too many people looking at my ass in that short skirt. I didn’t really like my ass back then.”

“I liked your ass,” he said, and I saw the exact moment he realized what he had said, because all colour drained from his face.

“Well, I like your ass now,” I said looking at him over the rim of my glass, as the blood rushed back to his face. Luckily another patron called for him, so he didn’t have to say anything and gave him a moment to compose himself.

I was pretty sure he now knew I was checking his ass, because he had a smirk plastered on his face when he returned a few minutes later to fill my glass.

“Oh, I’m not sure that’s wise,” I said, staring into the clear liquid with both want and fear. “If you keep refilling my glass at this rate I’ll drink it and may not be able to walk back home. I could sleep under one of the tables,” I said, the alcohol already affecting my thinking.

“If you wait until closing time, I can take you home,” he offered and I had to make an effort not to say something stupid. “They’re already starting to leave, it won’t take much longer before I can close.”

“Thank you. I’d love that,” I said, blissfully ignoring the nagging feeling that I was really going to regret this in the morning.

The rest of the night was calm, except for the commotion created by a couple’s announcement of their second baby being on the way. I congratulated them, even though I had absolutely no idea who the fuck they were. She seemed to know me so I just smiled and answered her questions. Clyde kept refilling my glass, but much slower this time, making sure I didn’t end up being a slobbering mess. He handed me a water bottle at the exact right time, and in that moment I was pretty sure I loved him.

By the time everyone left the bar I was pretty drunk, but I was still in control of my own actions, which showed what a responsible adult I’d become, that didn’t get shitfaced when they went out. Well, Clyde was more to thank for this, because with the mindset I came into the bar earlier that evening, if he put a bottle of vodka in front of me I would have tried drinking it all. Now, there was just a pleasant buzz in my head, and a slight numbness in my fingertips.

“Don’t we have to start cleaning now?” I asked, walking around the empty bar. With the door locked and the TV turned off, the place looked a lot more cozy than before.

“No,” he replied from behind the counter. “I’ll clean up in the morning.”

The bar was an odd combination of old and new. The flat screen TVs contrasted wildly with the old jukebox in the corner. The tables were pretty worn out, but the pool tables looked pretty new, or at least, refurbished.

“Pity. I would have liked to help. Reminds me of my college years,” I said. “You know my first job in college was busboy? Bus...girl? Is this gendered?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, a friend helped me get this job at a club he worked at. I hated it, but I could go to classes in the morning.”

“You know where to find me if you ever need a job.” Well, you know where to find me if you ever need a blowjob, but I wasn’t drunk enough to say that out loud. Might imagine it later, though. “I could use some help around here sometimes.”

“I’ll let you know if I ever plan on changing my career. But I have to warn you, I once poured beer on my shoes instead of my cup, and I was sober. So don’t expect much from me.”

“You’d just need a little practice and I think you’d do great,” he said, closing the register and going around the bar. “You’d bring in a lot of people cause you’re pretty.”

“What, come for the bartender, stay for the drinks? Good tactic, I know someone it works on,” I said, winking. He smiled and turned off the lights before locking the door behind us.

“I can walk home,” I said, the cool air clearing my thoughts a little. “You don’t have to take a detour just for me. I’m not that drunk and a bit of fresh air will sober me up further.”

“No, I’m not letting you walk home. It’s cold. Get in,” he said, unlocking the car.

“As you wish,” I mumbled, and hopped in. Truth was, I was happy that he didn’t let me walk alone. Not because I was cold or afraid or anything—alcohol had a hand in that—but because I wanted to spend a little more time in his presence.

His car smelled faintly like cheap air freshener. The leather on the seats was pretty worn out but soft to the touch, so I melted in my seat and closed my eyes as Clyde turned on the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. I could probably fall asleep like this.

“Do you know where to go?”

“Yep,” he said, and then added after a few moments of silence. “When Jimmy was teaching me how to drive I backed up in your driveway and ran over a few rose bushes and broke your mailbox.”

I burst out laughing. “Oh my god, I remember that. I was away at camp and when I came back my mom told me that two idiots ran over our mailbox.”

“Yeah, it was us,” he laughed. “She was so angry I thought she’d beat the living shit out of us. She made us plant new flowers and build a new mailbox and then paint the fence and cut the grass as punishment. She was a scary woman.”

“Well you deserved it, I loved that mailbox. I painted it myself, I even painted butterflies on it,”

“I tried copying them, but ummm… it didn’t really come out that great.”

“Those were some terrible butterflies, Clyde. I had to repaint it.”

“I’m sorry about that,” he said and pulled into my driveway.

It was probably the first time I regretted not living at least few miles away. I was very comfortably nestled in the passenger seat and in my drunken state it felt like a good place to sleep. Especially if he kept driving and talking to me in that soothing voice. I wondered if he’d let me sleep in his car if I asked him.

“As you can see I no longer have a mailbox, so you can make it up to me for the butterflies by building a new one,” I said, straightening my back. It was time to go home and sleep like an adult. An adult that will have regrets in the morning.

“I’m not really good with that anymore,” he said, looking at his prosthetic. “But you should call my brother, he’s more skilled than me.”

“Only if you paint some really terrible butterflies on it. I don’t need it without the butterflies.”

“Okay, I will.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he laughed.

“Thank you for today. For the bear and the drinks and everything,” I said leaning a little closer to him. He looked really cute with a smile still lingering on his face. He had really beautiful lips. I bet they would feel really soft.

“Goodnight Clyde,” I said, pressing a kiss on his cheek. His skin felt cool against my burning lips. “I’ll be waiting for you to tell me if my vodka was worth the money,” I said getting out of the car.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said a little bit dazed. “You should come by the bar more often. If you feel like it,” he stumbled over his words a little.

“Will do. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

I kept debating as I walked to my door if I should just turn around and invite him over to taste the vodka and whatever else he might want to taste, but in the end I played it safe and got into the house. I could still see the headlights from his car as I took off my shoes and for a moment I wondered if he wasn’t having the same debate as me. Maybe he was braver, I hoped, but then I heard the engine and the car left my driveway.

I sighed and dragged my body to the bedroom. Clyde the Bear was taking up almost all the space so I just collapsed over him, burying my face in his white fur. “At least you love me, right?” I mumbled.

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daenerys1417 · 7 years ago

Text

Breaking All the Rules

Jonerys Week 2018 - Day 7 - Free Choice

*Follow-up to my Day 3 Modern AU Celebrity Photo Shoot Mood Board*

Summary: Jon Snow is a celebrity photographer who’s used to being surrounded by beautiful models and actresses on a daily basis. He prides himself on being professional and has never dated a client. But when he’s hired to do a photo shoot with the beautiful Daenerys Targaryen, an up and coming actress, he’s tempted for the first time in his life to break his rule…

Rating: Mature - a little bit of fluff, a little bit of angst, a whole lot of smut

Read it on ao3 if you prefer: here

Jon Snow had what many would consider a dream job. He was one of the most sought-after photographers in the Los Angeles area and spent his days surrounded by impossibly beautiful models and celebrities. When he wasn’t doing photo shoots in his personal studio in the Hollywood Hills, he was jet setting off to exotic locations such as Milan or Paris to work modeling campaigns for major fashion brands.

Jon was a handsome young man, powerfully built with dark curly hair and mesmerizing brown eyes. He could have had his pick of half of the women in Hollywood but he had a rule. He never dated a client, no matter how attracted he was to her. He prided himself on being professional and providing good service and that included not complicating matters by entertaining romantic relationships with the women he worked with. Everybody knew everybody in the entertainment world and a relationship with a client that turned sour could potentially have devastating repercussions for his career.

So when his agent told him that he’d been hired for a photo shoot with actress Daenerys Targaryen for Esquire Magazine, he didn’t think much of it aside from the excellent pay and publicity he would receive. He was vaguely familiar with her work. She was an up and coming actress who had recently made the leap from the small screen to Broadway shows and feature films. He had seen her around town at various galas and red carpet events but had never spoken to her.

He checked his watch and sighed irritably as he paced around his studio. Daenerys was already more than 45 minutes late for their shoot. He hated nothing more than working with selfish, entitled actresses who didn’t respect his time and thought the world revolved around them. He was just about to call his agent and have him cancel the shoot and reschedule for a different day when Daenerys came bursting through the door.

I’m so sorry for being late,” she said, bending over and panting for air as she tried to catch her breath. “LA traffic is an absolute nightmare today! I ended up jumping out of the car and covering the last few blocks on foot to get here.”

Jon wanted to be angry with her and tell her that they would need to reschedule but she seemed genuinely sorry and had clearly been rushing to get here as fast as she could. He felt himself softening towards her.

“That’s perfectly understandable, I know how LA traffic can be. I’m Jon Snow, by the way, I’ll be doing your photo shoot today” He held out his hand. “I think we may have crossed paths once or twice but have never been formally introduced.”

“Nice to meet you, Jon,” she said, shaking his hand. “I’m Daenerys Targaryen, but you can call me Dany. I’m familiar with your work. I loved the retro pinup girl fashion shoot you did for Vogue Magazine a couple of months ago and your winter wonderland spread for Harper’s Bazaar was fabulous! I’m a huge fan and that’s why I told my agent to book you. I know you’ll make me look amazing.”

Jon was impressed. It wasn’t often that an actress followed his work closely enough to be able to rattle off his fashion resume. He looked her over, admiring her beauty. “It won’t be that hard to make you look amazing,” he admitted, smiling as he watched her blush. She was absolutely gorgeous. She had icy blonde hair with hypnotizing sapphire eyes. Her skin was perfect, like porcelain. And she had a figure that just wouldn’t quit. She was petite yet curvy in a lush “take me to bed” kind of way. He was instantly attracted to her.

He groaned inwardly. This was going to be a difficult shoot. He typically had no problem working with a beautiful woman but there was something different about Dany. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was just yet but he could already tell that it was going to be a struggle to maintain his professionalism today.

He clasped his hands together. “Well, are you ready to get started?”

“I sure am,” she said, her blue eyes twinkling at him.

He guided her down the hallway to the dressing room where the hair and make-up artists were already inside waiting for her. Esquire had sent over quite a few outfits to choose from for the shoot and he would let her and the other stylists decide on which ones she would wear. In the meantime, he went back into the studio and started adjusting the lighting and setting up his camera.

A short while later, he heard her walk back into the studio, clearing her throat to alert him of her presence. He turned to look at her and blood immediately rushed to his groin. Fuck! She was stunning. Desire began to escalate throughout his body as his eyes lingered on her. She was wearing a fitted, ruffled white blouse that accentuated her full breasts and small waist perfectly. She wore a floral miniskirt with it, which showed off shapely legs, and her black stiletto heels were sexy as hell. Her smoky eye makeup made her icy blue eyes pop and her platinum hair was teased and styled to perfection.

“So where do you want me to be?” she asked, an amused smile on her face.

Jon swallowed hard and felt his cheeks redden. He knew he had been gawking at her. He was acting like a horny teenaged boy and not at all like a professional photographer. Dammit, he chastised himself. Pull it together Jon, stop acting like you’ve never been around a beautiful woman before!

“Umm, over there on the stool,” he said, motioning towards the front of the room. She nodded and started walking in that direction. He watched her the entire time, mesmerized by the sway of her hips as she walked, but quickly turned away and pretended to be fidgeting with his camera when she sat down and looked his way.

He walked over with his camera and took a few shots to warm up, instructing her to just relax and act natural while he played around with the lighting and the camera settings. Then it was time to get started.

“Okay, point your knees in this direction. Lean forward. Turn your head slightly to the left. Good. Chin down. Tilt the top of your head slightly to the right. Look into the camera.” He was back in his professional mode now, directing the beautiful actress as he snapped photo after photo. She was a natural at modeling and followed his directions easily.

He didn’t miss the steady rise of the hem of her mini skirt as she shifted around per his instructions, putting her sexy thighs on full display. He could feel himself getting hard, his cock straining against the material of his slacks. He turned so she wouldn’t see and pretended to be adjusting something on his camera. “Umm, I think we can move on to the next outfit now,” he said over his shoulder.

“All right,” she said, walking out and towards the dressing room to change. Jon took a deep breath once he was alone. This was going to be a lot harder than he’d anticipated. Dany was just too damn sexy!

Not more than 15 minutes later, she walked back into the room and Jon nearly lost his mind. She had on a sexy black lace lingerie set with a red and black silk robe draped around her shoulders. Esquire, a men’s fashion magazine, was known for being somewhat geared towards sex so Jon wasn’t surprised at the outfit. But how was he supposed to concentrate and get through the rest of the shoot?

He pulled out a chaise lounge chair for her to lie on and began taking more pictures while she hit pose after pose, pouting her lips and looking at him seductively. At one point she took the robe off and began modeling in just her lingerie. She looked amazing as she posed before the camera, arching her back. His eyes lingered over her firm, perfect ass and the soft swell of her breasts as they pushed against the lacy cups of her bra.

A short while later, he realized he was having an issue with his camera and needed to take a short break. “Hey, let’s take five,” he said, walking towards a nearby table so he could adjust his camera settings. She put her robe back on and walked over to join him. She was standing so close to him that he could feel her body heat and he was finding it hard to concentrate as he fussed with his camera.

She looked at him curiously. “So, what’s your story, Jon Snow? What do you do when you’re not behind the camera?”

He shrugged, a wry grin on his face. “Nothing much, I’m pretty laid back. I like to drive out to Malibu and catch some waves occasionally or just chill on the beach with my dog, Ghost.”

A beautiful laugh escaped her soft lips. “Ghost? Why do you call him that?”

Jon smiled. “Well, he’s an all-white Siberian Husky, so that’s part of it, but the real reason is because he never barks.”

“Oh, I see,” she said. “I‘m a dog lover too. I recently rescued two greyhounds. They’re retired from racing and were about to be put down if they didn’t find a good home and I just couldn’t let that happen. They’re so sweet. I named them Drogon and Rhaegal.”

“Wow,” he said, turning to look at her. “That’s admirable of you.” He knew he was staring for far too long but it was out of his control. He had no sense of time, he was lost in her eyes, drowning in the bottomless blue depths.

She smiled at him, her cheeks blushing. “So no wife or girlfriend you go home to at night?”

He was surprised by her boldness. “No, it’s just me and Ghost.”

“Hmm, that’s surprising for a good-looking man like you with such artistic talent. I would think that women would be all over you,” she said with a wink.

He chuckled at that. “And you?” Jon asked, unable to quench his curiosity.

“No one special right now.” Her eyes lingered on him a bit longer before shifting to his camera. “Is your camera ready now?

“Yeah, it is…” he said softly. “Let’s continue.”

They moved back to the photo set-up and resumed taking pictures. He noticed she had an unruly piece of hair sticking out in the wrong place. “Sweep your hair back behind your right ear,” he said. She tried to follow his directions but ended up making it worse and now even more hair was sticking out. He laughed. “Here, let me do it.” He lowered himself onto his knees in front of the chaise lounge and cradled her head gently as he positioned her and fixed her hair. He was surprised at how silky soft it was. He was so close to her that he could smell the scent of her perfume. He breathed in the vanilla fragrance, treasuring it, emblazoning it into his memory.

As he hovered over her, he couldn’t help looking into her beautiful blue eyes. They were soft, inviting, beckoning. He felt himself swimming inside them. The next thing he knew, he was dipping down to kiss her. Her lips were soft and warm and so fucking perfect!

He pulled away to look at her but her expression was unreadable. Shit! He started to panic. How could he have been so stupid? He’d broken his rule. And with all the sexual harassment claims flying around Hollywood lately with the #metoo movement, he was most likely done in this town. Dany was a popular actress and one accusation from her would destroy him. All he could do was apologize and beg her forgiveness for his temporary lapse in judgment. He opened his mouth to speak but she was already standing up. She walked towards the door and his heart sank.

“Dany…I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…I…I completely misread that,” he stammered.

She reached the studio entrance and then turned to look at him, a mischievous smile on her face. To his complete surprise, instead of storming out, she shut the door and locked it! She sauntered back over to him, quickly closing the distance between them until their lips were only inches apart. “No, you didn’t misread anything,” she said, looking into his eyes as she stroked his soft beard.

Jon couldn’t believe what was happening. “I have a rule,” he murmured, trying to resist temptation. “I don’t get involved with my clients.”

She bit her lower lip as she looked at him lustfully. “Rules were made to be broken, Jon.”

And with that, the last ounce of his self-control faded away. His mouth crashed into hers with an urgency that made her gasp. With a low growl, he delved deep with his tongue, tasting her sweetness while he palmed her ass to hold her against his stiff cock. He lifted his lips from hers for a second and gulped for air. “You’re so goddamned sexy,” he groaned before kissing her again, a deep, openmouthed kiss that sent shivers running through him. His grip tightened on her ass and, without breaking the kiss, he lifted her up and walked her over to the table, setting her down gently as he continued to ravish her mouth with a ferocity that had her trembling in his arms.

Notorious for his steady hands when working a camera, Jon couldn’t keep his fingers from shaking as he moved to slide the straps of her bra down her shoulders. She moaned and trembled beneath him, just as unsteady but with him all the way as he finally uncovered one perfect breast and then the other. He cupped her soft flesh with his hands and lowered his head to take first one peak and then the other into his mouth. As he sucked on her nipples with long, deep, tugs of lips and teeth, she arched into his mouth, letting him have even more of her. Reaching behind her, he flipped open the latch of her bra and tossed it to the floor. Her skin was rosy and damp from where he’d been kissing her, and when he brushed his jaw across her aroused nipples, her hips came up against him in a silent plea for more.

Navigating the high-heeled stilettos she was wearing, he slowly slid her panties off, caressing and kissing his way down her legs. His name fell from her lips in a whisper of breath and need, and he answered the sweet plea with a slow , sensual lick from the heated well of her sex all the way up to her clit. Her legs trembled, and her breath was coming in short, sharp pants. He gave her another sweeping lick and then settled against her clit, slowly circling it with the tip of his tongue and coaxing it with teasing flicks. He increased his efforts, swirling his tongue around her clit faster and faster, brushing against the small button repeatedly as her cries increased.

Her hands fisted his dark curls and her hips bucked against his tongue. “Oh…like that,” she cried.

Hell yeah. He increased the attention, licking and sucking at her clit rapidly. She continued to whimper, her fingers desperately digging against his hair, scratching at his scalp as she tried to find purchase. A moment later, a startled cry erupted from her throat and she came, wetness on his lips and tongue as her entire body trembled and undulated underneath him, her breath whistling out of her lungs in a low, slow, deep cry that seemed to go on forever. The sound was sexy as hell and Jon nearly fell over the edge with her even though he was still fully clothed.

Slowly, he kissed his way down her legs, from the incredibly soft skin of her inner thighs to the sensitive spots behind her knees, then over her toned calf muscles, until he was pressing soft kisses to the tops of both feet. He could have spent all day working his way back up her body with his hands and mouth, finding all of the spots he’d missed on the way down, but when she took his hands in hers, he let her pull him back up to standing.

“You’re overdressed,” she breathed, her blue eyes dark with lust as she looked at him. “Let me help you.”

Jon held his breath as she unbuttoned his shirt with deft fingers, pausing along the way to kiss and lick every inch of his chest that she bared. She tossed the white dress shirt onto the floor and then reached for the waistband of his slacks. Somehow he managed to pull a condom from his wallet while she unzipped him, shifted his briefs, and pulled his large, throbbing cock out.

“I need you inside of me,” she purred, stroking him a few times before reaching for the condom to slide it over the head of his cock and down the solid length.

Jon couldn’t resist her sweet plea nor could he wait any longer. Planting one hand against the table on either side of her, he settled between her legs, nudged her open, and slowly entered her, inch by inch.

She wrapped her legs around his waist as he began to move, slowly at first, letting her get used to him. Then he began to take her harder, the table creaking rhythmically as he pounded in and out of her.

“You feel so fucking incredible,” he rasped.

“Yes. Just like that. Fuck me Jon!” She closed her eyes as his cock thrust in and out of her roughly, her breasts bouncing with every stroke.

He slowed his pace when he felt her starting to climb to another orgasm. “Open your eyes, Dany,” he said in a guttural voice. “Look at me.”

She did, and he saw her blue eyes blazing heatedly into his. He moved in slow, smooth, dominant strokes, holding her right at the edge.

“Jon…please…” She tightened her legs around his waist, trying to get the friction she needed.

He skimmed a hand possessively up her stomach and between her breasts. “You should see how beautiful you look right now.” He leaned forward and kissed her before shifting the angle of his hips. “Come for me, Dany.”

And she did. She dug her nails into his shoulders, crying out as she came. He swore under his breath and grabbed her legs, pinning her against the table as he pounded into her, faster and harder, until he groaned, all the muscles in his arms and shoulders straining as he shuddered and slowly came to a stop and finally collapsed on top of her.

Neither of them said anything for several moments as they caught their breath. He was conflicted as he looked at the beautiful woman beneath him. He’d done the one thing he’d promised himself he would never do.

“So what now?” he said as they put their clothes back on and exchanged shy glances with one another.

“Umm, I think we should finish the photo shoot,” she said, a wry grin on her face.

“Oh, right,” Jon said, embarrassed by her response. Obviously it had just been sex for her. How stupid of him to think it was anything more than that.

She smiled teasingly. “Then, I think you should take me out for dinner afterwards.”

Jon smiled as relief washed through him. “I’d like that.”

They kissed each other tenderly, a promise of more to come, before resuming the photo shoot.

#jonerys week 2018 #jonerysweek #jonerys #modern au #fan fiction #smut #Jon Snow putting in that work

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