#god... i just want to hold ralph close to my chest... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ernieernieboi · 5 months ago

Text

He was mid-sip when Ralph mentioned the 60s paraphernalia he still owned, he almost spit up his drink trying not to laugh. “God Ralph, you are wild. Do people even wear the dye anymore? I got so used to being around fake-ass fashionistas, I don’t even know.” He rolled his eyes at the thought of vampires he’d met who wore all black leather and lace because “that’s what vampires do,” whatever that meant. He perked up at the mention of lava lamps.“I'd put a lava lamp in my place though, all the ones they sell now are cheap, I’m sure you have multiple ones? I would love a piece of Ralph at Case de Ernie.” He winked ironically, which was a bit more sincere than he realized. “Yoo, blacklight posters would be cool, and if you’re doing 70s there has to be a disco ball, somewhere, even if it’s small, oh, and you know what else? You should repaint your RV. Actually, I’m gonna do it, but I’m not telling you the color, I’m gonna surprise you.”

Ernie hadn’t talked about his childhood much since he got divorced, he decided not to tell his ex-wife much about his past because he wanted to forget it. “Nah, it didn’t have to be. I was just a little bitch who couldn’t tell you how much you meant to me.” He sighed, looking down at his drink, which he’d been swirling around the glass. “I hope you knew, though.” He looked at Ralph, “How much you meant to me. Back then, I mean. I hope it showed.” He went back to swirling his drink. He’d been told by short-lived boyfriends that he could be distant. He often wondered if Ralph felt the same way back then.

“Oh please, I def can’t call you an angel, unless you went and found God in my absence. Would love to see you walk into a church, how fast do ya think you’d go up in flames?” Ernie wouldn’t call Ralph a liar, but he did learn the art of being sneaky from him. Something Ernie thought he was an expert in before they met. “Yeah, you knew me too. That’s what I loved about you. I could just … breathe. It’s what I missed the most all these years.”

Ernie leaned forward. “And what is it about siphoning that has you, like, feenin’?” He joked. ”Is it supposed to be so euphoric or does it depend on the person. I mean, cause I feel euphoria when I compel someone. But I think that’s just cause I’m crazy as hell.” He grabbed Ralph’s hand and interlaced their fingers. He looked to Ralph. “So do I like just … hold for 5 seconds? Like, how does this work? Is there a chant? Obviously, I’m in. I just need to know.” He released Ralph’s hand. “I can, the white hat and the bow tie, it’ll be hot.” He paused. “Wait, don’t tell me you have a fuckin’ 60s ice cream outfit in here too. I might have to send you to go talk to someone.”

“Nah don’t apologize, what happened to me was your fault. It was always mine.” A truth Ernie had come to terms with years after he’d been turned. “I did used to blame you. When it first happened, I had to get used to everything, but it was my fuckin’ fault at the end of the day, being a curious cat or whatever.” He shrugged. “I’m sure she’s still alive, I haven’t “felt” her or anything. She was fine, I guess. A bit crazy, but she told me about you. Before she turned me. She seemed like she was two steps ahead of everyone. She’ll probably outlive both of us.” Ernie spoke so causally about what happened to him, something he, himself, never understood. Perhaps he’s seen so much that being turned into a vampire is just something that … happened.

Feeling Ralph’s lips on his, Ernie melted. He closed his eyes and surrendered to the resistance he’d been fighting prior. His hands found themselves around Ralph’s waist as he stood up from the table pulling Ralph up with him. Ernie had traveled the world and kissed many guys. He accepted that all kisses would be the same: nice, but ultimately transactional. Dull. Or Mid, as the kids would say. But here, in Ralph’s stupid little RV, his heart raced. A warmth in his chest spread throughout his body. He pulled Ralph closer, as close as he possibly could. Their breaths tangled before Ernie started kissing down his neck until...

He stopped and pulled back. His eyes locked with Ralph’s. “Hope you got insurance on that water bed,” He said, lifting Ralph up by his waist and allowing Ralph to wrap his legs around him. It was a move he’d done plenty of times but secretly hated because he had to pretend he was strong enough to easily pick up another grown man (even though he wasn’t.). It was effortless now, so Ernie carried Ralph toward the bedroom.

The desire that filled the air could charge the RV itself, and each step toward Ralph’s room was a silent promise of the passion awaiting them.

Ralph flashed a wide grin. "I do have both, guy! You want me to get 'em out, huh? I'm actually thinkin' of redecorating a bit, though, ya feel me? What do you think, Ernie? Black light posters and wood paneling. Shag rug? Jump up to around '72 or so? I'm gettin' a mirror for the bedroom ceiling." While these suggestions were jokes, something about the other's presence here made Ralph really consider that moving forward was possible, that he could face time rather than sitting frozen in eternity, wasting to oblivion. His features softened, warmth trickling over them. "I remember too. Whenever I'm blue or down, I try to...wrap myself in those things, ya dig it? Didn't feel simple then. Everythin' felt so goddamn complicated. But it didn't have to be, did it? S'easy to say in hindsight. I'm glad you like it." Distantly, he was aware that, maybe, just maybe, if he had been brave, if he had been strong, their paths could have been different. Maybe the two of them could have held on; maybe they would be sitting in this RV now, wrinkled, spectacled, and well-lived, taking an anniversary trip on the road.

Ralph shook his head, his lips curing upward with mischief. "Are you suggestin' I lie to all the boys? That would be a sin." He watched him, raising an eyebrow. "Nah. Don't get me wrong. That was always primo. The tops. But...you made me laugh. You called me on all my shit. You saw me. To everyone else, I was just a handsome face or...or someone you could date to turn your mother's hair gray. But you knew me, and because you knew me, I could know me too. I didn't have to be anythin' else but me." He scrunched up his nose. "Of course they don't. I'm a glitterin' gem in the firmament of this giant diamond mine." He grinned.

Falling back, though, Ralphie sipped at his own drink. "'Course I do. Do it a lot. Too much. You can too. Bet you do it and don't even know it." As Ernie settled opposite him, Ralphie met his eyes, which were beautiful and full of a light that made him want to cower, a glow so pristine he did not deserve to bask in. Still, he held the gaze. "You ever touched someone and...felt 'em? I mean, you can tell if someone is inhuman? Like a sixth sense almost? That's siphoning." He broke into a laugh. "Can't you just picture me in the jaunty little white hat?"

As Ernie continued, though, Ralph's eyes widened, his face falling into a dull picture of stone. "Wait, was she? I shoulda...oh, she musta been real pissed at me. I took a lot from her, and what did she have to show for it? Nada." Ralph swallowed, but after a beat, a flare of something like anger swept over him, his mouth falling open. "She turned...Oh, Ernie. I'm sorry. Was she...was she good to you? Did she make it easy, I mean? I'm so fucking sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. The bastard that did it to me...he's still out there. I know it. I hear tell that when a vampire's sire dies, you can feel it. It crushes you. I've never felt him. Did you feel the Madame...what I mean is, is she still...out there?" Hunters had swarmed the country, eliminating every pocket of the supernatural in their wake. He thought if anyone could survive them, though, it was her.

Ralph's emotions flared, a heavy guilt, that his actions alone had led the walkway of Ernie's life. But the hand on his own made him pause. "I ain't. I ain't crying. I'm so...I'm so tough." He could not say this seriously; it was ridiculous.

A low breath escaped his lips, though, and a heaviness seemed to leave his frame. "I don't deserve it. I don't fuckin' deserve no one searchin' the whole world for me, baby, but you...you...." He met Ernie's eye, his own still wide and flashing. "I love you too. I always have. And I would love nothin' more than to spend the next fifty years making up for the fifty I wasted."

He ducked his head. "I can take it. Right-o. I can. You should be as mad as you want, Ernie. I can take it. But I am sorry I hurt you. I wanna promise I'll never do it again, but maybe I will. I'm still gonna try so fuckin' hard not to, though. I swear it. Honor bright." Ralphie let out a weak sigh. "I shoulda came to you. I shoulda found you. If I could change it, I would. S'why I live in the past. Wishin' I could undo."

He smiled weakly. "But that's life, baby. All of us carry all the shit we've been through. I wanna know about yours. I wanna know everything. And I know it's...I know it's fuckin' selfish of me. I know it takes real gall to say. But maybe we can...maybe we're in the right place at the right time right now. Maybe we really can find a way to be who we should have been able to be back then. Look at us. We're vampires. We don't gotta answer to nobody no more. Just each other. Fuck the world. Who cares?" As this flurry of passion rolled through him, Ralph nodded, biting his lip. "Thank you. You have no idea how much...how much that means to me, Ernie."

He gave a low breath. "God, you goddamn stud, I've wanted to do that since I saw you in that store." And then he was. Surging forward, Ralphie pressed soft lips to his, eyes fluttering closed. He realized, in that instant, that a kiss really could feel like coming home again, that in decades on the road, in belonging nowhere, he had been needing this mighty anchor to tether his heart.

#c: ralphie bear #tw death #tw kissing #when I say stupid little RV i mean that in a cozy quaint rustic adorable kind of way <3

9 notes · View notes

pedros-mustache · 4 years ago

Note

Wait... WAIT okay hold on w a I t. Can you just imagine.... I’m back on this yoga!Din shit (who am I kidding, I never left), so imagine this is sometimes after their first, shall we say, interaction. Imagine—

Another man comes into the class for the first time since Din’s started taking it. Some other guy struts in, and of course— because it’s her job— the yoga instructor puts her hands on him and adjusts him and touches him, and Din knows— rationally— he knows he shouldn’t be jealous; it shouldn’t make him angry, but it fucking does. He’s simmering under his skin as she trails her hand across this other man’s wrist, like how she’s done to him—he can almost feel the ache of it on his own— how she coos pretty nothings into his ear. This asshole even has the audacity to make her laugh. He’s rolling up his mat and is saying something that must be goddamn hilarious and makes her laugh— and fuck, what a sound it is— And AND AND can we just imagine... how he fucks her after. The raw possessiveness of it. Fucking her into the mirrored wall and making her beg for him. I just I’m sorry I gotta go bye- can u please elaborate THANKS THANK YOU

anyway, here we go. this is part of the yoga!din world that erikka has dragged me into kicking and screaming. find the other thoughts under the yoga!din tag on both our blogs! we are straying into plot with these so beware of us both

warnings for: slight degradation, jealous!din out the whazoo, slight dom!din too i guess idek (18+ only get out of my house)

he’s slow to approach after class ends.

he always bides his time, tries to catch a few minutes with her before her next class bustles in, perfectly coiffed and bedecked in pearls like they aren’t about to spend the next hour with their asses in the air. it’s in those few moments—those precious few moments—that he tries, really fucking tries, to make a good impression. since the first time he fucked her on this floor, he’s wanted her—wanted her pussy, yes, but now it’s more.

now, din just wants her.

he thinks the guy hanging back at the front of the classroom is named ralph. maybe rob. din wasn’t really listening when she introduced the new addition to the five-fifteen beginners yoga class. he was too focused on not going crosseyed with a sick, possessive rage.

the entire class he watched her. like a fucking hawk intent on its prey, he watched her. which, on its face, is not altogether different from any other night. he watches her so he can transition from pose to pose without falling over; he watches her so he can lift or stretch a limb without throwing out his back. she’s his teacher, first and foremost, and the yoga has helped soothe his irritated muscles and the consistent roiling pit of anger in his stomach.

but he also watches her because she’s glamorous, cheeky, downright fuckable. she know it, too; he’s sure of that now. she knows how good her ass looks in those tights, and she knows that if she bends forward just so he gets a full glimpse down the front of her tank-top. he knows that she hovers her hand over the dip in his spine for a reason. sometimes—most of the time—she doesn’t even touch him, but it’s just the heat of her palm hanging over his body that makes his face screw up tight and his mind falter in concentration.

three times he’s had her sprawled out beneath him, that effortlessly smug look on her face replaced by the perfect circle of her mouth when she hits her peak. she may be in control for the sixty minutes of class, but the moment she turns, slick water bottle in hand, cocking her head slightly, eyes gleaming with want, he’s the one in charge. she knows that, too.

tonight, din watches from the back of the room while ralph—rob?—new guy takes his time. his fingers make firm indents in the soft, squishiness of his mat. they’re laughing—probably about something stupid, something din doesn’t understand, like seven dollar smoothies that taste like grass. his jaw hardens when she leans in and touches new guy’s elbow.

there’s part of din that thinks she could simply be urging new guy to the door. her next class starts in fifteen minutes, and the old biddies like to be early. the other irrational, totally consuming side of din thinks she’s doing this on purpose. always playing a fucking game.

he stands from his crouch and shoves the sweaty mat under his arm. he’s not in the mood, not tonight. his bare feet slap on the polished floor, and he watches his shoulders expand in the reflection of the mirror.

“can i talk to you?”

new guy’s head snaps to the side at the sound of din’s hard, unyielding voice. he’s shorter than din, not by much, but enough that his eyes have to tilt upwards.

new guy huffs. he glances at her then back at din. he pushes away from the wall where he’s been leaning the last five minutes, nonchalant, greedy. “we were just—”

she glances at the clock hanging over the door, tilting on one foot nearer din. he can smell the sweat clinging to the back of her neck. “actually, chris, i need to freshen up before my next class.” with all the grace of a royal, she touches new guy’s arm, offers him a dazzling smile that leaves din’s lungs struggling for breath. “you understand? i’ll see you next week.”

chris (nowhere near close to rob) nods and hoists his tote bag over his shoulder. his gaze slides to din. his eyes narrow—slightly, but enough for din to notice. din notices everything.

“see you next week, man.” chris slaps din’s shoulder, his bravado clearly failing in the charged energy bouncing between din and her. he tries, though; that has to count for something, and din is never one to snort at resilience in the face of defeat.

chris leaves. the door shuts with a soft click behind him. din turns to her, but she speaks first.

“i wasn’t lying, din. i gotta freshen up.”

“okay, i’ll come with you.”

she arches a brow, bent at the waist to pick up a hand-towel from the floor. “i wasn’t really inviting you.”

“i wasn’t really looking for your invitation.”

her chest lifts on a hard inhale. the curve of her bra—dark blue—peeks out from beneath her gray tank-top. he blinks, holding her stare.

with a hard swallow, she turns on her heel and opens the studio door. it’s cool in the hallway, so unlike the cloistered air of the studio after ten bodies have huffed and puffed in awkward positions for an hour. the air-conditioning almost chills din’s hot blood, but when she turns, gives a wave to chris, hovering by the front desk, he nearly melts on spot, blood gone to lava.

he grabs her elbow and squeezes. “get in the bathroom.”

down the hall, past the main office, empty now. past the small kitchenette; the light above the sink flickers. the single bathroom at the end of the dark hall. she turns the knob, slowly, slowly, always a fucking game.

impatient, din smacks his fist against the weak door. it swings open on a whine, and she falls inside when he nudges the small of her back with his opposite hand.

“din, my class—”

he shuts the door, locks it, flicks on the light. god, this place is a wreck. all the court would pay for, considering. cracked coral tile covers the floor and half the walls. the single light fixture barely illuminates the room. a small basket of toiletries on the back of the commode do little to take away from the twenty years of grime clinging to every surface.

din doesn’t care. this place—it brought him to her.

still, he’s vibrating with something unnameable. he wants her—badly. his cock is hard already, straining against his basketball shorts. but it’s more than that. he doesn’t want her touching new guy or any guy that’s not him. her touches, her smiles, her laughter—it’s his. he wants it to be his.

but he can’t very well tell her that. not with his past.

“i don’t care about your class.” it’s the honest to god truth. he doesn’t care, not tonight. “come ‘ere.”

taking her elbow in hand once more, he pulls her back from the center of the room and twists. her back thumps against the door, the door itself loose in the frame, and he looks up. that could prove a problem. he might be a jackass, but he knows her: she’s private about this. the old ladies in the hall don’t need to hear how hard she moans when she creams on his cock.

he meets her eyes, sees the ever-present challenge there, and it snaps his resolve in half. always a fucking game. he’s tired of the game tonight.

with one hand grasping her elbow, pinning her to the door, he slides his palm down the front of her leggings with little preamble. his fingers are long. he finds the apex of her cunt with ease, and he slips one finger through her folds. he glances down.

“shit, you’re wet.” he swirls his middle finger through the juices coating her pussy. so fucking sticky. “did he do this to you?”

she lifts her head from the door, eyes hazy with desire now. the challenge is gone. “what?” her breathy voice, so similar to the tone she uses in class, used now because his finger is knuckle-deep in her cunt makes his cock throb.

“i said: did he do this to you? did he make this fucking wet?” withdrawing his finger, there’s a squelch, and she bites the inside of her cheek, chest flushed in shame. din replaces the single finger with two.

“who? ch-chris?”

din scissors his fingers. she stifles a moan with her bottom lip and grabs his shoulder. “don’t say his name.”

“i—holy shit...” her head drops forward when his thumb circles her clit, his fingers pumping in and out and in and out at a leisurely pace.

removing the hand clutching her elbow, din frames her face with his palm, thumb on one side of her jaw, pointer finger on the other. he holds firm. “i asked you a question: who made you this wet? you sound like a fucking whore, feel like one too.”

“it wasn’t...” she shakes her head as her hips begin to grind down, down, down against his fingers. “wasn’t him.”

“then who?”

“you,” she gasps. “oh fuck, right there.”

din stills, drops his hand from her face, straightens his spine. he slides his hand from her warmth and stares at her, dumb, mute, ears ringing. “what?”

it’s her turn to be pissed. she frowns, squirming against the door. “why did you stop? i was gonna—”

“what did you say?”

maybe it’s something in his tone, or something on his face, but her expression clears, and she stops writhing. she tilts her head in earnest then says, “it was you, din. i’m—fuck, i’m always wet around you.”

he blinks.

“you make me so hot and bothered. it’s completely unprofessional, but, shit, you always—” she shakes her head, and a lock of hair falls in front of her her eyes. he resists the urge to tuck it behind her ear. “i can practically feel you stripping me with your eyes all class, and it should piss me off, but it makes me so fucking wet.”

“i thought you—” he snaps his mouth shut, unsure of where the sentence might lead.

for a simple moment, a long moment, he stares at her. she stares at him. in the hallway, he can hear her next class shuffling about, making tea in the kitchenette, gossiping and chattering like old crows.

he grabs a fistful of her tank top and yanks her forward. she doesn’t have time to gasp before he’s swallowing her surprise with his mouth. her hands fumble on his shoulders, his hips, the waistband of his shorts.

“don’t have long,” he huffs.

“it’s enough.” she pushes his shorts down as he wiggles the tight band of her leggings over her ass.

his tongue smoothes over hers, gentle and soft, as he lifts from beneath her ass and pushes her back against the wall. he kisses her as deeply as he can, says everything he can with his lips. he hopes she understands.

when she wraps her manicured fingers around his cock, he almost shatters. he mouths over her jaw, down her neck, sucking on her pulse point.

“be quick,” she whispers, lining the leaking head of him at her entrance.

tonight, he won’t have a problem with that.

face hidden in the crook of her neck, he slides to the hilt of her in one easy thrust. she threads one hand through his hair, grips the thick strap of his own tank with her other hand. her legs lock around his back.

“so fucking tight,” he mutters.

“fuck, din.”

he drags his cock out before slamming it back in her pussy. her back thumps against the wall, her cunt gives another wet squelch, din sees stars.

it’s a quick tumble. din hardly removes his cock after that initial thrust. short, snappy thrusts, his pubic bone brushing against her sensitive clit. she clenches down hard on his length, her breasts bouncing against his chest as she holds onto his shoulders for support. she’s gasping, whining in his ear. he’s talking, unaware of his own words.

“hate when you play that game, girl. your mine. this pussy is mine.” he grinds his cock upwards, and a sliver of a moan falls from behind her lips. “you know that right? say it. say you know it.”

she nods, and when he squeezes her hips, she breathes out a hurried, “i know it.”

“shit fuck, you are tight.”

“for you, baby. just for you.”

din cums. he would be embarrassed, but the orgasm rips through him like a shockwave, quick and devastating. he bites down on her shoulder to keep from crying out. she removes the hand gripping the curls at the base of his neck and finds her clit, rubbing frantic circles over the swollen bud until she too must bite her tongue to hide any evidence of her pleasure. din’s cock stirs when the warmth of her cum gushes around his length.

she laughs at that, smooths sweaty hair away from his forehead. “no time.”

din wants to kiss her, but he doesn’t. he only kisses her when they find another after class, desperate for a quick fuck. his window has closed, but his lips tingle with desire.

they’re quiet as they return their clothes to rights. she runs a paper towel under the sink, smoothes it over the inside of her thighs and the outer-shell of her pussy. she catches him staring in the reflection of the faded mirror.

“they may be old, but i know they know what cum smells like.”

din huffs.

they walk side-by-side to the door of the studio. the clock hanging at the opposite end of the office reads near seven. she’s late, but only just.

at the door of the studio, she turns. her mouth opens; he leans forward, heart hammering in his chest. someone inside calls her name when she cracks the door open, half-inside, half-protected by his bulk, his warmth.

she looks over her shoulder at the sound, and the look on her face—that vulnerable look, the one he’s never seen before—fades. “see you next week?”

din nods. “yeah...” a lump rises in his throat. “next week.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #yoga!din #begone thot hours

110 notes · View notes

boobz-fye · 4 years ago

Text

Rainy mornings with them (G/N reader)

Includes: Tendou Satori, Takanobu Aone, and Miya Osamu.

Warnings: None, all fluff.

Word count: 645

Note: Wanted to share my thoughts on what the boys would do with you when stormed in. Sorry that they are short tho. But I hope you still enjoy it!!!

Tendou Satori:

You guys will definitely binge you favorite TV shows and anime all day (in my head I feel like Tendou would watch Demon slayer with his S/O, and I can't stop thinking about it)

You guys would also cook/bake together, while listening to music.

The aroma coming from the brownies in the oven starts to fill the room. As the two of you wait for them to finish cooking, you sit on the counter top with Tendou in between your legs. You wipe some batter off of his nose, and stare at the wide grin forming on his face. “Oh god, what are you planning now..” “Nothing puppy!” he says as he picks you up from the counter and places you on the ground. Before you can question his actions, Tendou grabs your hands and places them around his neck then proceeds to place his hands around your waist. You stare up at him, as he starts to sway both of your bodies around the kitchen. Giggling you pull his body closer to yours so you can rest your head on his chest. You close your eyes and continue to sway around the room letting him lead the way. The sound of Tendous hums fill your ears, causing a smile to form on your face. Only if this dance could last forever.

♫I'm in love with that face, it's all I'm seeing, I just can not explain this fuzzy feeling. You're my dream girl♫

- Dream Girl: by Crisaunt

Takanobu Aone:

Cuddles all day.

Do I need to elaborate?

Mans will not let go of you, def follows you around the house like a lost puppy.

You can feel the vibrations coming from Aones chest, as he sings in a slightly rough voice. You lay in his warm arms while taking in the man in front of you. He looks so peaceful, only focusing on the music and the warm smile that grows on your face as you watch him in awe. A little bit of blush appears on his face, which only adds more to the effect he has on you. Aone traces circles on your back, as you nuzzle into his chest and take in his scent. You can't stop yourself from looking up at his face one last time before drifting off to sleep.

♫Wake up in the mornin' and to your smell, There's somethin' that I know all too well, Now we on it….It's early in the morning...♫

- Morning sex: by Ralph Castelli

Miya Osamu:

Okay hear me out!

Sitting on the porch/balcony with him.

Just a nice hot cup of coffee (or Tea if you don't like coffee) and a blanket thrown over the two of you.

You guys are on one of those swinging chairs, and he's gently rocking it.

And then obviously later on you guys would cook together.

There is nowhere that you would want to be, except here with Osamu.The calming sound of his humming and wind chimes fill your ears. Feeling some rain drops tickle your face, you snuggle into Osamu's warm chest causing a smirk to form on his face. Not wanting to ruin the moment, you choose to not make a sarcastic comment about it. Placing a sweet kiss on your forehead Osamu says “Are ya cold?” you hum in response, while burying your face into his neck. Osamu pulls you into his lap resting his arms loosely around your waist. You can't help the blush spreading across your face from his actions. “Thanks samu.” you mumble, too tired to lift up your head and give him a kiss on the lips, you place one on his neck. He returns to quietly singing, luring you back to sleep.

♫Hold me closer tiny dancer, Count the headlights on the highway, Lay me down in sheets of linen,You had a busy day today….♫

-Tiny Dancer: by Elton John.

#osamu fluff #osamu scenarios #aone fluff #aone x y/n #osamu x y/n #tendou x y/n #tendou fluff #tendou scenario #haikyu fluff #haikyuu x y/n #haikyu x reader #aone x reader

103 notes · View notes

laurensprentiss · 4 years ago

Text

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 1:

Gif credit: @tommyshelbcy

Warnings: Mentions of stalking/blood

Word count: 1363

———

"The end is in the beginning and lies far ahead." - Ralph Ellison

———

"Haley, listen, I'm gonna have to call you back, I'm about to meet with him right now."

"Oh my God, you always do this, Aaron, you promised we-"

"- Yeah, we will, I promise but I really gotta go. Bye." He rushes out in a low voice as he sets the telephone down. He gathers himself, buttoning his suit jacket as he strides confidently towards the steps, butterflies in his stomach.

His first official assignment, and he was determined to make it count. Months of gruelling training, exams and physicals were finally going to allow him to get his foot in the door and get to where he wanted to be. He takes a steadying breath before knocking on the door three times and waiting for the voice inside.

"Yeah. Come in." Barnes lifts his gaze from the paperwork he was engrossed in to beckon Aaron forward. "Take a seat."

"Yes sir, you wanted to see me?" He wrings his hands unconsciously.

He sees the bright eyed agent’s behaviour betraying him and smiles knowingly. “It's alright, no need to be nervous, son. This here's good news for you. In fact, these are your transcripts and reports I'm looking at." He smiles. "You were one of the most promising cadets during your training stint, and the work I've seen from you so far is more than I'd expect from a fairly new recruit."

Hotch lets out a half- breath, half laugh of relief as he lets his shoulders relax. "Thank you, sir. It means a lot coming from you." He smiles almost bashfully, the words ringing unfamiliar in his ears. Praise had always been a foreign concept to him thus far.

"Not so fast, I still need to tell you why I called you in today." He sets his pen down now, looking Hotch in the eyes as he tells him, "your talent hasn't gone unnoticed, which is why I'm assigning you to the personal and home security detail of the US Ambassador of France while he's stateside."

His heart pounds. Barnes' talk of his team and responsibilities feel far away now and Aaron tries to rapidly take in everything that he's saying. This is it. The opportunity he'd been waiting for to prove himself as an agent of the bureau and not just a trainee. Barnes brings him out his mind by asking him if he has any questions and tells him to go meet with his new team. He shakes Barnes' hand and thanks him for the opportunity, before quickly excusing himself.

Barnes interrupts him as he's leaving. He turns to face his superior as he tells him, "I'm trusting you on this one, Hotchner. The Ambassador will explain when you meet him but this one's personal."

"Yes, Sir." He ducks his head out of respect and turns to leave to be briefed with his team.

————

"Alright everybody, you know the drill. Make your introductions, follow protocol and see the Ambassador's staff for your assignments." McCall commands over the comms.

He directs Aaron to take the next left as the SUV's pull into the driveway of the sprawling estate, lined with perfectly groomed grass and trees. As they step out of the cars, the double doors open as your father and his assistants step out. A large man in stature, the Ambassador demands attention but his smile is welcoming - warm, even. Eight agents in total make their way over the man as he walks them through the grand foyer of the home.

Hotch has a strange feeling in his stomach, half excitement, half dread. He feels out of his depth. Small. And he doesn't like that feeling.

Niceties exchanged and introductions made, the Ambassador beckons McCall over to him while the other agents speak with his staff. McCall leans over and tells Aaron to come with him as the three of them step into an office.

"Sir, it's lovely to see you again. This is Agent Hotchner, the one Agent Barnes told you about." McCalls explains. Hotch steps forward to offer your father a firm handshake but still doesn't quite understand what is happening as he looks around confused.

The Ambassador lets out a short laugh. "I take it Barnes didn't quite explain the scope of your duties here. He has a tendency to be quite dramatic."

Hotch shakes his head as he laughs slightly, and explains that he was told he would be informed of his duties once the initial meeting had taken place.

"Well, alongside the standard home and personal security, I have an additional, sort of special request." The Ambassador takes a beat and asks McCall and Aaron to take a seat. "My daughter, she-. She was due to take off to Yale this summer, but it appears that somebody has been following her. And for some time."

He pulls out his desk drawer and takes two Manila folders, placing them in front of McCall and Hotch. "As you can see these photos go back to last summer, outside of my daughter's apartment, the gym, her school." He rubs a hand over his stubbled chin and sighs. "Then came the mysterious packages delivered to her door. Sometimes flowers, her favourite chocolates, jewellery. And then the notes."

The two agents flick through the folder to find photocopies of notes, dotted with specks of blood. Hotch mumbles the last words written on one of the notes. "Watch me earn you."

"That last note was delivered with all of the pictures of my daughter. It's because of this, that I advised my daughter to defer for a year, until we can find this man and asked her to move back home, here with me." He looks tired.

Hotch looks from McCall to the Ambassador and back again in confusion. "Pardon me, Sir, and I mean no disrespect at all, but why me? I'm still fairly new at this, and while I would be honoured to take this on, I just want to make sure that you think I'm the right man for the job."

"Well, I know you've taken the profiling course over at Quantico and you come highly recommended from Barnes." He reassures Hotch. "I have faith in you and McCall. Your job is twofold I suppose, as well as providing a security detail, you'll also be tasked with investigating this whole thing and getting to the bottom of this person's identity. And because of your age, the person who's following my daughter will simply think you're a new friend instead of law enforcement."

It finally sinks in for Hotch now. He nods his agreement slowly and thanks him for the opportunity. There's a knock at the door and the Ambassador calls out for whoever is on the other end to come in.

"Ah speaking of my daughter, here she is!" He stands up with a smile. McCall and Hotch turn to face you as you walk into the room and close the door behind you. you feel a pair of eyes following you as you do. The agents both stand as your father makes his way over to you to hug you. "We were just talking about you sweetheart." He tells you as he places a kiss on your temple.

"All good things, I hope!" You tease as you step forward to shake their hands and introduce yourself. You shake Agent Hotchner's hand as he towers over you, holding your gaze, your hand small in his. "Call me Aaron. Or Hotch, whichever works." He chuckles.

You smile as you share a moment but he looks down quickly and lets go of your hand. He's handsome, you think. He stands at 6'2 with broad shoulders and chest, dressed in a suit and tie and his slight beard and fluffy hair gives him a rugged look. His cheekbones and jawline are sharp and he has a disarming smile.

"These are the agents I told you about, honey. They'll be accompanying you while we get to the bottom of this." Your father says.

"Yes ma'am, rest assured we will do everything we can to catch this man." Hotch says as he looks into your eyes, his gaze flickering to your lips for a quick second before looking away.

This should be interesting, you think.

<Prev | > Next

#hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch smut #Hotch fluff #aaron hotchner #Aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #cm fic rec #cm fanfic

182 notes · View notes

isthisthingeven0n · 4 years ago

Text

sad together, last together : s.s

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED UNTIL AUGUST. Please do not send one in right now, as I can’t get to it sorry guys.

brief summary: it all started with a drunken mistake, but led to something more between two of the sadest people in the vlog squad - shame no one knows how beautiful it all is just yet

word count: 1.3k requested: yes! i combined two requests (one to use sad together by olivia obrien a vibe entirely) (two - write about dating scotty and no one knowing) warnings: idk if there are any?? let me know if there are!

* masterlistin’ / masterlistin’ 2.0

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING

Your fingertip swirls around the rim of the glass as you watch everyone dance together, not a single care in the world consumes their thoughts.

David’s filming Natalie and Corinna, whilst Zane orders more shots to share with Todd and smiles cross all of their faces. Yet, you’re sat in the booth by yourself, too preoccupied with past memories.

“Hey,” Snapping from your past, you smile up as Scott slides into the booth next to you with two shot glasses being placed on the table. “you doing alright?” He asks, you only just understanding him by reading his lips.

“Yeah,” You lie, nodding along to persuade him. “just in my head a bit, that’s all.” You add, glancing to your left, remembering when his arm was around you as you laughed giddily.

Scott goes quiet upon seeing your brows furrow together, your shoulders dropping. “Here,” He speaks up, passing you the shot glass. “it won’t last forever you know.” He tells you, nudging your arm playfully.

“I know, we’re born alone and we die alone, so cheers.” You hold up the glass before knocking the shot back, feeling the bitter burn through your throat as you wipe your lips.

The last thing you expected to wake up to in the morning was a face smushed into the pillow beside you, let alone Scott’s face smushed into a pillow.

“What the fuck!” You blurt out, tumbling out from your bed as Scott begins to stir.

“Too loud.” He mumbles, rubbing his eyes before opening them and looking up to see you. “You’re in my top.” He points out groggily.

“And you’re in my bed, shirtless.” You add and Scott sits upright, taking a look at himself before his eyes widen.

“Did we?” He holds the bridge of his nose as you shrug your shoulders, trying to remember details from last night. “All I remember is you telling me you didn’t want to be alone.”

A small laugh leaves your lips as you perch back on the edge of your bed, smiling up at him. “I mean, that parts true.” You say, now focusing solely on the rising smile on Scott’s lips. “Do you want some breakfast?”

“I’d love some, yeah.”

It was only going to be a two-time thing, but sometimes things didn’t work out that way.

Lying in bed, curled up against Scott’s chest you could hear his heartbeat rhythmically beating. He was fast asleep whilst you were focused on the ceiling, endless thoughts circling your mind.

“Why’re you awake?” Glancing up, you see Scott tiredly looking down at you with a lazy smile.

“Sorry,” You mutter, slowly moving to sit upright. “I just couldn’t get to sleep, too much on my mind that’s all.” You shrug it off, but even in the darkness, you can see the faint outline of concern on Scott’s face.

“Is it about us?” Scott speaks up, catching you looking away from him as he mentions the possibility of being an ‘us.’ “If you wanna stop, we can. I know this was a temporary agreement.” Scott justifies as he shuffles under the covers.

“I, I don’t want it to be temporary.” You quietly admit, playing with the hem of his t-shirt over your body. “And I know, that’s wrong of me to say, but I didn’t think I’d get attached.”

Remaining still, you can feel your heart sinking as Scott turns away from you.

Yet, you blink as he turns the bedside lamp on and quickly reaches out, holding your cheek with his hand as he kisses you sweetly, not wanting to let go.

“Then let’s make it long-lasting, huh?” Scott mutters as you pull away from the kiss, feeling his words closely as you nod. “I guess we should go on a date sometime then?” He suggests, hearing you chuckle softly before cuddling back up into him, knowing you’ll get a better night sleep with him holding you close.

Much to your surprise, things were going well between you both. Yet you couldn’t ignore that dull thought in the back of your mind, still fighting its way through your barriers to pipe in.

Today was one of those days, and you couldn’t ignore the thoughts. Scott could tell from the moment he walked into your place. Usually, you greeted him with a tight hug, your legs wrapped around his waist as he walks to your couch, the pair of you just lounging over one another talking about your days. Instead, Scott was greeted with silence and the eventual shuffle of your slippers, followed by a half-hearted wave.

“Do you wanna go out somewhere?” Scott suggests, feeling the weight of your head lifting from his chest as you quirk an eyebrow in response. “I mean, just to get out of the house. As much as I love being here, fresh air isn’t a bad thing either.” Scott shrugs his shoulder, trying to play it off. But really he does care, and is scared about it.

Rubbing your eyes with your palm, you nod along. “Sure, I’ll grab my purse.” You force yourself to your feet, wandering back into your bedroom as you change into your trainers, discarding your slippers under the dark depths of your bed.

As you emerge from the bedroom, Scott can’t help but beam at you. It didn’t matter how many times he’d seen you, nor what state he has previously seen you in. But there was something about your tired smile and messy hair, just on show for you and him, it made his heart beat faster as you rolled your eyes.

“Alright house cat, let’s go.” Scott holds his hand out, feeling you grab hold as he pulls you to his side, kissing the top of your head as a smile crosses your lips before you close the front door behind you.

Laughing lightly, you took another spoonful of the ice cream to your lips. “You got something on your nose,” Scott motions and you bashfully look away, trying to wipe it off. “come here you dipshit.” Scott chuckles as he rests his hand under your chin, using his thumb to wipe off the blob of ice cream on your nose.

“Better?” You ask, his hand moving up to rest on your cheek.

“Beautiful.” Scott mutters in response before leaning in, kissing you with the sweetness of strawberry ice cream.

“Fuck off, no!” Pulling away abruptly, you both turn to see Zane stood to the side of you with Hidaya by his side, covering her mouth with both hands. “No, you guys? Seriously?” Zane stutters over his words, watching in shock as you just nod.

“Yeah, for like four months.” You smile up at Scott, hearing the words leave his lips. “She’s my girlfriend, and I’m her kinda depressed boyfriend.”

“Oh my god this is adorable.” Hidaya comments, nudging Zane to say something as he simply stares at you both like jugs of apple juice in Ralphs.

“Four months, and none of us noticed?” Zane reiterates his point as you just chuckle before moving over, patting his shoulder lightly.

“It’s okay, Zane. But hey, you’re the first to know.” You joke before moving back over to Scott, accepting your ice cream from him.

“See, I told you good things happen when I visit.” Hidaya mutters, causing you to chuckle lightly.

“You guys want some ice cream, I don’t mind getting some more since mine has half melted.”

Scott looks down to the melted puddle of cream in the cup. “That’s one sad lookin’ ice cream.”

“Almost as sad as us, huh?” You mumble as you walk away to find the nearest trash can.

“So you guys are kinda serious then?” Zane questions, noticing how Scott looks away from him and toward you as you wipe your hands over your skirt before turning back.

“I mean yeah, we’re both sad, so why not be sad together?” Scott shrugs his shoulders as you return, giving him another reason to carry on with his day.

194 notes · View notes

cagestark · 5 years ago

Text

A Hole in the Head//5

About this: daddy kink.

A week later, Tony has business to attend to in Malibu.

Peter distracts him while he packs, suitcases open and half-full on the bed. He plasters himself to the back of the man, rising up on his toes so that he can press his groin against the curve of Tony’s ass and grind suggestively. “Take me with you, sir,” Peter begs into his ear, wrapping his arms around Tony’s toned midriff. “We can spend all our time in the hotel, fucking.”

Tony laughs, reaching for one of Peter’s hands to draw it down and press it against his own cock, still mostly soft. “I’ll be in meetings, kid.”

He places a hot kiss against Tony’s neck, lips brushing skin when he says, “I’ll bribe you to skip them.”

“And what about Bucky?” Tony asks. The man in question is outside their open bedroom door, leaning against the wall, ever vigilant. Peter glances over in time to see his head cock, turning just so to better listen to the conversation taking place.

Since the day of the mall, a sort of calm-before-the-storm had befallen them. If he’d awoken the next morning expecting Bucky to treat him any differently, he was mistaken. Bucky was, for the most part, unchanged (though maybe sometimes his sharp retorts seemed less like attacks and more like banter, which was a pleasant evolution). If Peter’s ass hadn’t smarted something fierce for the next three days, he might have believed the entire thing was nothing but a dream.

“He can watch,” Peter suggests brightly. “He’s good at that.”

There’s no way to tell with the man’s back turned, but Peter can feel when Bucky rolls his eyes. He’s got a sixth sense for when he’s getting under someone’s skin.

Tony turns where he’s trapped in Peter’s arms. His eyes are dancing when he tucks Peter under his chin, cutting short the sexy dialogue and turning it tender. Typical Tony move, though it doesn’t happen often with his underlings around. Something about Bucky must be slipping past the man’s defences, and Peter can’t find it in him to complain about a more comfortable, natural Tony.

“What’s this all about, Pete?” he asks. “You hate Malibu.”

“I don’t have the legs to wear shorts,” Peter whines. He winds his fingers in Tony’s lapels, intending to hold him in New York physically if that’s what it takes. “I’m just going to miss you, is all. When you aren’t here, I’m bored.”

Tony’s eyes flicker towards the doorway where Bucky stands. Smiling, he says, “I’m sure you’ll find something to keep you occupied.”

“I’m going to jerk off for three days straight,” Peter says, throwing himself onto the bed. A pristinely folded pile of Ralph Lauren dress shirts topples over.

“If you don’t stop, I’ll think that all you want me for is my cock,” says Tony.

“Have you seen your cock, sir?”

“That’s it, you little brat—” Tony lunges. Peter upends one entire suitcase diving off of the bed to avoid his touch. He fights to get his feet under him, adrenalin singing in his veins, and feels the brush of Tony’s fingers reaching for the neck of his shirt before Peter slips out of reach. Bucky has turned at the commotion and watches with a maternal disapproval, leaning with one hip propped against the wall and his arms crossed.

Then he steps back further into the hall, reaches out with one foot and nudges the door shut.

“Traitor!” Peter shouts, mouth split wide in a grin.

The moment gives Tony the chance to slip an arm around his waist and hoist him up and back towards the bed. His mouth brushes Peter’s neck when he says, “He works for me, kid. Don’t look so surprised that he’s on my side.”

He deposits Peter flat on the bed, the bounce knocking several to-be-packed items to the floor. Tony stands over him, and fuck if he doesn’t seem so much taller than his five-foot-nine stature. Sometimes in their more tender moments together, Peter forgets just what the other man is capable of. But god, there is much pleasure in being reminded. Leaning over him, Tony pushes the last half-packed suitcase until it falls off the bed with a clatter that has Peter shaking. Removing his jacket, he tosses it back towards where there used to be an armchair—only now there isn’t. In his dress slacks is a bulge that has Peter’s pelvic muscles flexing in anticipation.

He reaches for his belt and tugs it free. Peter thinks he might be in for a spanking, until that belt hits the floor and Tony continues undressing, pulling that thick cock free. He assesses Peter with a frank stare. “Well, kid? You wanted it, didn’t you? It isn’t going to suck itself.”

Peter slips off of the bed and onto his knees to let Tony seat himself on the mattress. He doesn’t need to be told how Tony likes it; that’s come from years of practice. Staring up at him through his lashes, Peter opens his mouth wide and lets the blunt head of Tony’s cock rest on his tongue, the familiar softness and hardness and warmth and smell and taste all filling up his head until it’s light like a helium balloon. When the man’s mouth twitches, fighting a smile, Peter lets his mouth close around it, his eyes falling closed in picturesque ecstasy as he suckles at it.

“What’s gotten into you lately, kid?” Tony wonders, threading his fingers through Peter’s hair. “You’re hornier than usual, and that’s saying something.”

Peter pulls off to say, “Can’t help it. You’re so fucking hot. I’m thinking of it all the time.”

Tony smiles, a mixture of fondness and pity that has Peter’s cock throbbing. His blunt nails scratch at Peter’s scalp in a way that makes him groan, and then Tony is guiding his mouth back to his cock. “I know, sweet thing. I know what has you so worked up—or should we just come out and say it? Who.”

His gut clenches, cock jerking between his legs. Pushing himself forward, he lets himself gag on it, throat convulsing around the head of Tony’s cock before the urge becomes too much to fight through and he has to pull away. Tony loves it like this, messy and graphic, like if Peter doesn’t get to suck his cock, it might kill him. Sometimes, it hardly feels like an exaggeration.

“Please fuck me, sir,” Peter begs under his breath after pulling off, laying his cheek against the inside of Tony’s knee. His chest feels tight, balls heavy, ass already clenching around nothing because he’s empty, so empty, and nothing ever fills him up like Tony. “I need to get you in me. Please?”

Tony lets out a shaky breath through his nose, the only sign that he’s affected at all by Peter’s pleads. Nodding his head, he says, “Bend over the bed, Pete. I know what you need.”

Peter’s fingers feel useless and thick, scrabbling at the button on his jeans until Tony helps, hands steady and gentle. Those hands are large enough that Peter’s entire cock nearly disappears when the older man palms at him, giving him a firm, warm place to thrust into. Neither of them have any more than their pants shoved down past their knees but Peter feels stripped to his skin when Tony presses flush against him, a mimicry of the way they were just minutes before.

“Come on,” Peter gasps, feeling Tony’s naked cock rut against him from behind. He arches his back into a tantalizing bow. “It’s been, like, two whole days or something—”

Tony laughs into the curve of Peter’s neck. His long fingers wrap around Peter’s hips, holding him in place while he thrusts against him. “Two days since we fucked. But when’s the last time you had those greedy fingers inside of yourself?”

“This morning,” Peter admits, flushing.

“I thought you took longer than usual in the shower. How many fingers?”

“I had to condition!—and two, sir. God, please—!”

Tony hushes him, pressing him forward with a hand at the center of his back until he’s bent in half, exposed and waiting. He leaves Peter there, rutting his cock against the six-hundred thread count sheets while he gets the lube from inside the bedside drawer. Peter turns his head to watch as Tony slicks his cock, taking a moment to jerk himself off.

The sight of it makes him feel like fire is just under his skin, makes him give out a long, low, “Fuuuck.”

His older lover’s eyes crack open, mouth quirking slyly. Once behind him, he feels Tony spread him open and then the blunt head of his cock presses forward, docking against Peter’s opening and stealing the last of the breath from his lungs. “I hope you’re still a little loose, kid,” Tony says, gripping Peter’s hip. “Because this morning is all the prep you’re getting.”

When he thrusts in, long and slow and deep, a similar sound comes from Peter. Peter has always been vocal during sex. Tony is similar, although in a more eloquent way; his dirty talk could melt the tar on a country road. Peter is monosyllabic at best, completely inarticulate at worst. Groans rip from his throat as he scrabbles at the bedsheets, clutching them between his spasming fingers. Tony wraps an arm around his waist, the firm bar of his forearm resting just above Peter’s neglected cock so that he can pull him backwards into short, hard thrusts that Peter can feel all the way in his throat.

“Ohmygod,” Peter cries. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, never stop—”

Pulling Peter’s upper half up until they are chest-to-back, he whispers in Peter’s ear, “You know he can hear us out there, don’t you sweet thing?”

The noise that comes from Peter is hardly a cognizant answer, but Tony is fluent in it. He laughs a little. “Yeah, you do. You know it. More than likely he can’t make out what I’m saying, but your every little noise must come loud and clear through that door, baby boy. Are you putting on a show for him, Pete? You want him to hear how good your daddy gives it to you? Say it. Say it so he can hear—say, yes daddy.”

“Yes, daddy!”

“Fuck, that’s perfect. Me too, kid, me too,” Tony admits. His thrusts are already coming more sporadically, like the thought of Bucky listening in itself is driving him wild. He slips his hand free from Peter’s grip and guides it to his lover’s neglected cock. Just the simplest touch feels like electricity, and he doesn’t know whether to thrust into the firm grip or to arch his back deeper, to open himself up more. Tony continues on, muttering in Peter’s ear: “Is it bad that I want him to walk back through that door and see you like this, half-naked and leaking all over my fist? Or at night lately when we fuck, I’m thinking about the best ways to get you to scream so that he might hear it through the wall? Don’t think about him lying there at night trying not to touch his cock to us, it will just drive you crazy, kid, it will—”

Every muscle locks tight in Peter’s body as he cums. His body spasms, and he’d fall right off Tony’s cock if the other man didn’t have such a firm hold on him, pulling him back into his rutting thrusts again and again, giving him nowhere to run nor hide. Every thrust rubs the length of Tony’s cock against Peter’s prostate causing his cock to jerk and spit and his body to shudder from the stimulation. Still, Tony never stops jerking his cock, never stops those deep thrusts, and Peter feels an orgasm begin to crest in him again, equal parts painful and pleasurable. Synonyms, he thinks. It’s the same fucking thing, and then he cums again—

When his awareness returns, he’s on his back. Tony kneels on the mattress between his spread legs, cleaning him with a washcloth just warmer than his body.

“God, what did you do to me,” Peter whines, slapping weakly at Tony’s hands.

“Be lucky Bucky didn’t burst in here. I’m sure he thought I was killing you, with the way you were shouting,” Tony says.

“You were killing me. You did kill me. I’m dead, sir.”

“Had to give you something to remember me by, didn’t I?”

“Call me every day that you’re gone and I’ll tell you again. No, twice a day. And text me during the meetings.”

“Can do, sweet thing. Have fun with Bucky while I’m gone, alright?” Tony wiggles his eyebrows to clarify his meaning, like Peter’s mind doesn’t perpetually live in the gutter. Like 90% of his day isn’t spent thinking about riding one of their cocks or the other.

Peter rolls his eyes. “I don’t think he knows the meaning of the word fun, sir.”

Tony just smiles, hoisting one suitcase off of the floor and beginning to replace its contents.

Bucky watches Tony put his suitcases into the trunk. Leaning against one of the posts of the veranda, he can’t help but acknowledge the pleasing picture that the kid and Tony make together. They’re both unfairly attractive. Dark haired and dark eyed, but Tony’s tanned skin sets them apart. Peter is all paleness and vitamin D deficiencies where he leans up against the older man, pressed tightly against that expensive suit without a hair's breadth between them.

Fucking idiots, Bucky thinks to himself. If he had someone like that (or a couple of someone’s like that), someone he cared for and loved, he’d never let them out of his fucking sight. But that’s why he’s here: so that Tony can let Peter out of his sight without worrying about what might befall him.

From this distance, he can’t hear what the two are saying to each other, but it’s punctuated with a lot of soul-deep kissing that makes his cock twitch. He changes his point of gaze and looks out towards the gate that Tony will drive out of any minute.

Something flashes and draws his eye—Tony’s watch catching the light as he gestures Bucky over with two lazy fingers.

Stomach rolling (in the best, worst way), he walks down to where the car sits, boots crunching in the gravel.

Tony is stunning in the sunlight, glasses pushed up and away to reveal his eyes. They’re like amber, ready to trap Bucky inside them and keep him preserved there for a hundred thousand years. Gladly, Bucky thinks. Beside him, tucked into his side, Peter intently examines the edge of the property line, mouth red from being kissed and bitten.

“It goes without saying that you’re in charge while I’m gone and that you’re free to exercise any executive decisions that might need made to keep Peter safe, understood?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

Tony smiles, showing white, straight teeth that Bucky’s tongue has begged to taste. In these last two weeks, Bucky has seen the man smile more than he had in years of working for him. He holds out a hand, and it takes Bucky two seconds too long to realize that Tony means for him to shake it. Heart in his throat, he clasps that warm palm not quite as broad as his own, taking care to hold firm but gentle. “Bucky, I can’t thank you enough for volunteering to keep Peter safe. Hiccups aside, I think you’ve done an incredible job.”

“The whole damn kid is a hiccup,” Bucky mutters, hoping that the stirring of fondness he feels inside his chest doesn’t transfer to his face. Peter scowls, flipping Bucky off behind Tony’s back. Without looking, Tony flicks the kid’s neck. The both of them laugh at Peter’s indignant, ouch! which only increases the storminess of the younger man’s expression.

“A hiccup. Well, that’s putting it nicely. My hiccup,” Tony admits, one side of his mouth quirking up. He uses a fond hand to ruffle Peter’s curls into a riotous style that mimics bedhead, and the kid melts into him. Then Tony’s voice drops low into a sensuality that Bucky is neither used to nor prepared for: “Yours, too, if you’d like.”

Bucky blinks, slow, retracing the conversation to see if there was something he missed, like a line skipped in the eager reading of a book’s page. On instinct, he feels his breathing grow shallow while he struggles not to make any secondary movements, to give away any tells. “What’s mine, Mr. Stark?”

“Peter, of course. I want you to know that while I’m gone, you can make use of him in any way you and he see fit. What is that Spanish phrase? Mi fucktoy es su fucktoy? No? Well, I’m better versed in Italian—anyway, it might be the only way to keep him out of trouble; he’s an insatiable creature.”

“I prefer cumslut, sir,” Peter says. “Fucktoy dehumanizes me.”

“You’re right, pumpkin, I’m sorry—”

“Wait,” Bucky interrupts. His mouth is dry, lower gut clenched tight at just the thought of what the man is offering to him. Offering his own lover, like Peter is nothing but a fucktoy, like Peter is nothing but an amenity that Bucky can take advantage of, no better than room service or fresh towels at a hotel. Only way fucking better than room service, he thinks, looking at the heavy-lidded expression on the young man’s face. God, none of this perversity should turn Bucky on as much as it does. “When you say make use of him—?”

“Fuck him. Suck him off. Have him suck you off. Peter can suck your soul out through your cock if you’ll just let him.” Tony puts a warm hand on Bucky’s shoulder. He feels it through his jacket, his shirt, his skin, right down to the bone. The man squeezes in a soft, friendly way. “I know that last time we discussed the idea I called it a, ah, forgivable indiscretion? But I think it’s clearer, now; you’ve earned him.”

Jesus Christ. Bucky has to work not to grind his jaw. Why are these two so committed to taking Bucky apart? They’re specially shaped tools, perfect for weaseling into the cracks in his armor and digging deeper. Deeper. He feels on the verge of madness, jerking his cock at every available moment to keep from letting the lust crowd his mind. But every time the kid makes a pass at him, every time Tony goes and offers the kid up to him, Bucky feels that much closer to breaking.

Maybe it’s inevitable. But Bucky hasn’t made it this far by breaking when the wind picks up. He plants his feet against the gale and resolves to stay that way—for however long he can.

“I won’t fuck the kid,” Bucky insists. He ignores the eye roll from the kid in question (that’s just Peter Parker, he’s learned. All eye rolls and sarcastic comments and rude hand gestures). Tony’s head tilts, like Bucky is a surrealist painting that will make sense if only he looks long enough. For a guy so good at strategy, at psychoanalyzing his enemies, Tony Stark sure doesn’t seem to know himself at all: the last thing he needs after what happened with Beck is Bucky fucking his boy. Desperate to be understood, he says: “You can trust me, Mr. Stark.”

Tony just lets out an even breath through his nose, reaching up to pull his glasses down and hide those whiskey-colored eyes.

#starker #winterironspider #nff #ahith #cagewrites

143 notes · View notes

deniigi · 4 years ago

Note

Are we gonna see more of lance corporal Wilson or the Blind Devil?

uhhhh not as of now. But! I have a little piece of them trying to bond with Benj for you, anon!

Basically, in this piece, the Blind Devil and Corporal Wilson take Benj with them to one of BD’s boxing matches and he has a somewhat adverse reaction.

Warning for panic attacks.

-------

Oh god, this was horrible. This was bad, horrible, and wrong and Maidíu was laughing up there in the ring through a smashed nose and the Lance Corporal was calling him names that May would have absolutely skewered Peter for using and it was just—

It was so much.

Everything was happening in double time. Triple time. In half the space—a quarter of the space--it ought to be happening in.

Peter was going to scream.

No. He wasn’t going to scream.

He never screamed. He’d been through so much worse than this. Walls had literally caved in on him multiple times and he hadn’t screamed. Nails had pierced his skin and bullets had slammed through his thighs.

A load of shouting people crammed in around a ring wasn’t going to be the thing that undid him. Not if he had anything to say about it.

“HEY.”

It wasn’t.

“Hey? Spiderkid?”

He just needed to breathe. That’s all.

“Spiderkid? Hey, hey. Woah. You don’t look so good, hon. Here, let’s move back.”

No, he was fine, LC.

He just—

Breathing. He needed to breathe and he couldn’t breathe with all these bodies pressing against him. Pressing into him. Squeezing him from all sides—

“What’s going on?”

Who was that?

“I don’t know. Seems like some kinda asthma?” LC Wilson called over the shouting.

It wasn’t asthma. Peter didn’t have asthma. He didn’t have anything; he just needed air. That was all. A little bit of space.

“What’s your name?”

“Mine?”

“Yeah.”

“Wilson. Wade Wilson. This here’s Pete.”

“Buddy of yours?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah, wait. You’re Matty’s pal?”

“Oh, hey! Yeah, that’s us. You heard of us?”

All this chatter was making Peter’s head swim and there were huge, heavy hands on his shoulders now and he wasn’t wearing the mask or the coat, so he couldn’t swing around and tear them off. Break the bones.

Make them never, ever touch him again.

He couldn’t—

Goddamnit, he couldn’t breathe.

“The name’s Jack. Matty’s my boy. Here, I’ll take this one out for a sec.”

“You sure? I can take ‘im.”

“Nah, ease off, kid. Matt ain’t need no help. He’s fixin’ to win this one. If he asks, tell ‘im I’m out with the smallest of youse.”

The huge hand on Peter’s shoulder tensed and pushed and Peter found that he couldn’t resist it. It shoved him through a torrent of bodies, back, back, back, until suddenly, everything was cold and dark again.

They were outside.

Peter collapsed forward, gasping. Coughing. Clutching at his knees.

It was way quieter outside in the cold.

It took him a long time feel comfortable opening his eyes. Out of the corner of one of them, he saw knees. He bolted up straight and nearly stumbled back at the sight of one of the biggest men he’d ever laid eyes on.

“I’m—I’m—” he stammered, caught between an apology and something else he didn’t really know.

“You’re alright, little one,” the huge man said with a wink.

He was Irish. Fuck, he was Irish.

Peter already found parsing Maidíu’s half-New York, half-Irish accent challenging at times, but this guy?

He is cadence was so jolting that it took Peter’s brain several seconds to make the sounds into words and the words into sentences.

“I’m sorry?” he said automatically.

“I said, ‘you’re alright,’” the huge man said. “Take a coupla breaths. You’ll be alright.”

What the fuck was he saying?

Peter still couldn’t make his ears adjust.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated.

The huge man huffed.

The guy was patient and oddly gentle.

Peter only found out the latter bit when he tried to go back into the ring to find the Lance Corporal. He didn’t get very far. What he got was a hand on his shoulder and a slow push back.

“I’m okay,” he told the Irishman for what felt like the fortieth time. “I’m okay, I can go back in. I won’t ralph on your floors or nothing.”

“Mm-hm,” the Irishman said, nonbelieving.

A roar went up through the house behind him. Peter jerked at the sound. The Irishman’s expression didn’t change.

“I’m not drunk,” Peter told him.

The Irishman didn’t believe him. His eyes seemed half-closed from how far down he had to look at Peter.

Peter wondered if he had a chance here on the street.

If he got a good solid punch in, in the head-region he probably could. But he only had one chance. This fucker was going to know how to fight.

“Da?”

Eh?

Peter looked up to see Maidíu with his hand on the doorframe feeling around it and turning his face back and forth.

“Right ‘ere, son,” the huge man said.

“Ah. There you are,” Maidíu said, stepping more boldly forward towards the sound of the man’s voice. His nose was disgusting. The huge man—Maidíu’s father?—looked over at him and lifted a brow.

“Come on, now, Matty. Can’t be lettin’ someone get the drop on ya like that,” he said.

“Did for the crowd,” Maidíu told him.

“Sure ya did.”

Good lord, this was Maidíu’s father. No wonder he was the size of a house.

“This one’s one of yours, son?” Maidíu’s father asked him.

“Which one?”

“Skinny ‘un. Dark ‘air, dark eye, spectacles.”

“Ah. Peter, then. Wilson said you weren’t feelin’ so good, kid. You alright?”

Uuuuuuuh no.

But neither of these massive bulls needed to know that.

“I’m okay,” he said instead. “Just had a bout of asthma or something.”

“Looked to me like the shell-shock,” Maidíu’s father said out of nowhere.

Peter’s breath froze in his chest.

“Da, don’t be scarin’ him like that,” Maidíu scolded. “C’mere, Pete. Ignore him. He thinks he knows everythin��.”

“I do know everythin’, I’m old as mountains, I am,” Maidíu’s father said.

“He serves in a war, comes back, and now he’s got every story in the worl’ in his head,” Maidíu huffed.

“I keep ‘em there with the lumps,” his dad told Peter with a wink.

“Da.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll leave youse be. It was good meetin’ you, Pete. We’ll have you ‘round to a quieter night one of this days, eh, Matt?”

“Yea, yea. Feck off, old man.”

Maidíu waited for the bigger guy to move around him before holding a hand out to Peter.

“He didn’t scare ya too bad, did he?” he asked.

Peter shook his head, then caught himself.

“No,” he said. “Just—I wanted to watch you, uh. You know. Fight. The LC seemed to be having a good time.”

Maidíu blinked sightless, scarred eyes Peter’s way and then smiled.

“It’s alright,” he said. “It can be really overwhelmin’ the first time you’re really in it. Da used to put me up high so’s he’d know I wouldn’t get crushed.”

Oh.

Oh, okay.

Peter sighed before he could stop himself. Maidíu cocked his head and carefully stepped forward, feeling with his toes for the edge of the steps his father had been previously been guarding.

“What’s the matter, Pete?” Maidíu asked gently.

“Nothing,” Peter said.

“I don’t know much, son. But I know it ain’t nothin’.”

Peter sighed again.

“I just—I wanted—I want—”

He didn’t know how to make the feeling into words. He couldn’t even do it in his head, how was he supposed to out loud?

“You want to be included?”

Oh.

Maybe like that.

“I want to have friends,” Peter felt himself say in a rush.

He didn’t mean to say it.

“I want to be like you guys. I want to just—you know. Have fun. Go to a match. Just relax and watch. But it’s like—I can’t. Every time I go out with people, it’s like I can’t make everything stop. My head’s always goin’ and everything starts getting’ really close together and I can’t help but start checkin’ over my shoulders—and it all just defeats the purpose,” Peter spewed forth in frustration.

Maidíu said nothing.

Peter sucked in a big breath.

He didn’t expect anyone to understand. He didn’t know why they would. No one else he knew had this feeling.

“Forget it,” he said.

“You know,” Maidíu’s rumbly voice said softly, “Da might not have been too far off there.”

“What?” Peter asked. “What do you mean?”

Maidíu shrugged a shoulder and itched at the drying blood on his face.

“I just mean, that—well. I was a wain when Da came back from the Front, but he had all these stories, ya know? Of men doin’ this and doin’ that. ‘Cause of the shell-shock. He used to tell me that some of his buddies’ eyes would go wide and they’d start breathin’ fast and funny. Gaspin’ like they couldn’t get enough air in, and they’d want to get out of the trench. They’d be sayin’ that they’d suffocate if they stayed in the trench. But you know, they couldn’t get up overhead. That was nothin’ but a death sentence. So.” Maidíu trailed off.

“You think I’ve got shell-shock,” Peter scoffed.

“I think you got somethin’ like it,” Maidíu said. “Don’t worry, though, kid. I get those feelings too, sometimes. Comes from being blind, I suspect. Gets real lonely sometimes. But then it’s all too much at the same time, too. Helps to just come outside and breath. That’s what my old man was tryin’ to get you to do.”

Ah.

Right.

That was…embarrassing.

“You’re alright, Peter. It’s okay. Here, do me a favor, huh?”

Peter lifted his face to see Maidíu holding out a hand with rough, calloused fingers. His own hands felt small and skinny at his sides.

“Peter.”

He balled them, stepped forward and took ahold of the fingers.

“Atta boy,” Maidíu told him.

“What do you need?” Peter asked him.

“Ah, well. See, me old man’s ‘bout to pummel a man into the ropes and it’s been ages since I knew what it looked like.”

Peter frowned.

“So you want me to what?” he asked.

“Tell me what it looks like,” Maidíu asked with alight lift to his eyebrows. “Don’t have to be perfect or anythin’. But it’d be nice to hear some commentary. You know, like on the radio. Is that okay?”

Yeah. Yeah, that was okay.

“Maybe we should find the Lance Corporal first,” Peter said. “You know his commentary’ll be better than mine.”

Maidíu smiled and turned his head back towards the commotion taking place inside the building again.

“If you say so,” he said.

When Peter came in closer, the fingers in his hand migrated until they were cupped around his elbow. The light light from inside made him take a deep breath. He held it. Then took another.

“Good work,” Maidíu said. “Here, let’s stay in the back so I can hear ya over this lot.”

Yes.

Yes, let’s do that.

One foot forward up these stairs. That was all. He was helping this blind man. This blind man was his friend.

He’d be okay. They’d be in the back, away from the crowd.

“Good man, Pete. You’re a brave little thing, you know that?” Maidíu encouraged.

Peter laughed.

Brave.

Yeah.

Obviously.

He was Spiderman. He was so brave. And so stupid. So reckless and cocky.

Come along now, Spiderman. Onward march, already.

“Come on, Devilman,” he said. “Step to it, we don’t got all night.”

-----------

#fic #ficlet #into the multiverse

66 notes · View notes

norminahs-child · 4 years ago

Text

Little Monster (Norminah Adoption Story)

Draft from my Wattpad😅

Dinah giggles, "I'm not. I'm just wondering how I got so lucky to have you." She says, wrapping her arms around Normani's waist and pulling her closer before cuddling into her side. Normani looks at Dinah, "I beg to differ. If anything, I'm the lucky one. You're so amazing..." She mumbles before placing a soft peck on Dinah's lips. Pretty soon, the door busts open, "WAKE UP! ALLY MADE BREAKFAST!" Camila shouts loudly. Normani smile slightly while shaking her head, "We'll be down in a bit, Camila." She says. Camila groans, "Really, Mani?! I told you to call me Mila! When you say my name, it sounds so... Proper." She says with a shudder making Dinah snicker slightly.

Normani sits up with Dinah still holding onto her and tilts her head, "Is that a bad thing?" She asks. Camila shakes her head, "Nope. Just weird." She says. Normani feigned hurt, "Good to know, Mila." She says. Dinah laughs, "We'll be down, Chancho. Tell Ally to make our plates." She says. Camila sends a thumbs up before walking out and closing the door.

Normani shakes her head and stands up, "I don't understand how you deal with her. She's a very nice girl... But, how do you deal with her?" She asks, trying not to sound rude. Dinah laughs, "Baby, chill. She's my best friend. Yeah, she's a little unbearable, but I wouldn't trade her for no one else. Plus, you know she looks up to you." She says, subtly admiring the dark skin beauty that was in nothing but her (Dinah's) shirt, which was a little big on her, and her undergarments.

Normani looks back at Dinah, "I don't understand why. We're about the same height." She says. Dinah rolls her hazel like gold eyes, "You know what I mean, princess." She says, jokingly using the nickname Normani hated. Normani shakes her head, "Still, Dinah Jane. I don't understand. She's a bit of a mystery for a girl so... Bubbly." She says, unsure of what word to use. Dinah slowly stands up and walks to their shared closet, "That she is. We've been best friends since we were little supernaturals and she's still a mystery to me." She says from the closet.

Normani hums, "Interesting..." She mumbles before walking to where Dinah is and wrapping her arms around the taller woman's waist, placing her chin on her shoulder, "Are you going to let me braid your hair again?" Normani asks making Dinah freeze and look back at her, "This is not up for debate, is it?" She asks. Normani shakes her head making Dinah curse under her breath.

After the duo got dressed, they made their way downstairs. Lauren was knocked out with her head on the table, "You didn't get enough sleep, Ralph?" Dinah asks softly. The older female shakes her head sleepily. Being the affectionate person she was, Dinah gently kisses Lauren's head making her sigh softly. Normani smiles softly, "After breakfast, I'm doing your hair." She says making Dinah groan. Camila snickers, "I swear to go-" Ally glares at Camila from the kitchen, "Bananas! I swear when you do Dinah's hair, it sounds like you two are having sex. Like, does getting your hair done hurt that bad?!" She asks. Dinah turns red, "Yea, it does!" She defends. Normani shrugs, "She's way louder when we're having sex." She says making Lauren groan, "Too much information, Manz!" She exclaims as Dinah looked away with a deep red blush. Ally raises an eyebrow, "I guess that sound proof spell and the lock spell came in handy, huh?" She asks, walking out of the kitchen with plates floating above her head.

Ally had on a sports bra and cargo pants. Dinah just buries her face in her hand with a groan, "Can we not?" She asks. Camila just tries to reach for her plate with a pout as Ally kept moving it from her, "Anyways, eat up, children." Ally says while putting their plates down. Dinah and Camila squealed befoee digging in. Normani smiles softly, "Thank you, Allyson." She says greatfully. Ally returns the smile, "No problem, Normani." She responds before sitting down herself.

After the group of five finished eating, Lauren, Ally, and Camila had to endure an hour and a half of Dinah screaming and crying because her head hurts, "DAMN IT, DINAH! IT DOES NOT HURT THAT BAD, BE QUIET!" Normani snaps. Dinah glares up at Normani through tearfilled eyes, "YES IT DOES, ASSHOLE! YOU KNOW I'M SENSITIVE!" She shouts back. They continued shouting at each other as the other three laughed loudly at the duo. It was unusual to see Normani shouting or showing any type of emotion, so they were enjoying it.

After Normani was done with Dinah's hair, Dinah held a mean ass glare towards the neutral shorter girl. Normani stands up and walks over to the obviously butt hurt Dinah, grips her by her neck and places a soft, passionate kiss on her lips. Just like that, all Dinah's anger and pain disappeared in an instant. Dinah didn't know if it was because of Normani's powers or Dinah's overwhelming love for her to stay mad. Normani broke away from the kiss, "Feel a little better?" She asks, her eyes glowing red. Dinah's eyes glowed gold, "Y-Yes..." She says.

Ally awwed while Lauren and Camila gagged, "Anyway, Cheechee, you're hair looks amazing!" Camila exclaims,

Lauren nods, "Yeah! Braids look good on you girl!" She says. Normani smiles softly, "Call me a miracle worker because I swear on everything evil, I was about to hurt Dinah." She growls playfully making everyone laugh. Dinah leans her head on Normani's shoulder, "Um, Normani." Dinah says. Normani got an instant red flag. Dinah doesn't really call her by her first name unless something was wrong or if she needed to get something off of her chest.

Normani kisses her forehead, "What's wrong, my love?" She asks. Dinah stands up and gently drags her by the stairs leading to the second floor. Dinah sits down on the second step with a nervous look. Normani started to get a little worried. Dinah's whole aura was a blueish color which meant she was scared. Dinah's normal aura was white, "What's wrong?" Normani asks while sitting down beside her wife of 3 years.

Dinah nervously looks around, "Baby I... I love you, and you know this..." She starts making Normani sweat slightly, Oh god, is she trying to divorce me? Was all that ran through Normani's head. As if Dinah read her thoughts, she reaches over and squeezes Normani's hand, giving her a sweet kiss, "It's nothing bad, Mani. I promise." Dinah reassures, easing Normani's nerves slightly. Dinah lets out a shaky sigh, "Mani, I want a child." She says making Normani's eyes widen, "Um, DJ... Do you not know that we are both women?" She asks, clearly stating the obvious.

Dinah lets out a breathy chuckle, "I know, Mani... I want to adopt. I want to adopt with you. I want us to have a family, Normani. Yeah, Camila, Lauren, and Ally are our family, but I want a daughter." She says. Normani was unsure. It's not like she didn't want to expand her family with Dinah, she just wasn't sure about a kid, "I-I don't know, Dinah." Normani says, almost instantly regreting what she said as she saw the heartbreak in Dinah's eyes, "Wh-Why, Normani? D-Do you n-not want a f-family with me?" She stutters out, her voice cracking badly.

Normani shakes her head, "That's not it... It's just I... I don't know, what if I'm not a good mom? What if I turn out like my parents?" She asks. Dinah cups Normani's cheek, "Look at me... You won't turn out like your parents. They left you, they abused you. You're nothing like them. You'll be an amazing mom... We'll be amazing moms with Lauren, Camila, and Ally being amazing aunties. Give it a chance, baby..." Dinah begs. Normani stares into Dinah's hazel eyes, "I... Okay. I'll give it a try..." She says softly making Dinah smile.

End Chapter~

#wattpad #norminah #fifth harmony #gxglesbianlgbt #gxg imagine #supernatural #saved in my drafts

7 notes · View notes

ghosttotheparty · 4 years ago

Text

say my name and say it twice (cotton candy skies)

20. also on AO3 chapter nineteen

Lucas’s face falls as he rereads the words on his screen.

Call ended.

He lets himself deflate, his shoulders dropping as he sighs, closing his eyes. He puts his elbows on his desk in front of him, holding his face in his hands as he squeezes his eyes shut, tensing his face and shoulders before collapsing, dropping so his head rests on his forearms, crossing on the cold surface of his desk. He feels it against his skin, the sleeves of his worn sweater rolled up past his elbows, and he embraces it, focuses on it, lets it consume him, until he lifts his head, pulling his sleeves down over his hands, tugging them past his fingers and gripping them in his fists, the material twisted around his fingers. He lifts his hands and rubs the material on his face, letting it scratch gently, his eyes still closed.

He lets himself be alone.

The flat is empty, Zoë and Senne off somewhere, Milan on a lunch date, and it’s silent, except for the hum of his heater and the quiet sounds of the flat settling, creaks in the wood floor and doors. His hands drift from his face, crossing over his chest to cradle his shoulders, which are slightly shrugged up, uncomfortable and stiff.

He doesn’t notice his feet tapping the ground anxiously, hitting against the wood of the floor and of the leg of his char, doesn’t notice his teeth tugging at his bottom lip, biting the skin, doesn’t notice how it hurts. He doesn’t hear anything.

So he jumps when he hears his computer chime loudly, after who knows how long, and he looks up when it continues, the screen glowing, letting him know that Ralph is calling him.

He lets go of himself, pushing his shoulders down and rubbing his face quickly, taking a deep breath before he answers, forcing a smile.

“Hey.”

“Hello, my love!” Ralph is grinning, his arms crossed on the table in front of him, a table Lucas doesn’t recognise. He doesn’t recognise the room behind Ralph either, the wall that sunlight is streaming across, or the fixture hanging from the ceiling. “Are you okay?”

Lucas looks from the fixture to Ralph and sees that his smile has dropped slightly, his brows furrowed.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he lies. “Uhm, where are you?”

“I’m in Norway, visiting a friend.” Ralph looks over his computer screen and waves a hand.

Another man joins him, tossing an arm around Ralph’s shoulders. He has short strawberry blonde hair. He looks kind of like a fairy.

“Hi, I’m Eskild,” he says in English, and Lucas smiles, waving.

“Hey,” Lucas says, pointing at him, suddenly recognising him. “You were at that party in Utrecht, right?”

Eskild nods, grinning.

“I’m Lucas.”

“Ralph has told me all about you, he loves you.”

“Aw.” Lucas grins as Ralph shoves at Eskild. (There’s a “Shut up!” that Lucas almost misses.)

“You said you had to tell me something?” Ralph asks when Eskild lets go of him, stepping to the side.

“Yeah, so—”

“Is it okay that I’m here?” Eskild interrupts, holding his hands up. “I can leave if you want.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. Actually you’ll probably be happy too, you guys seem to be kindred spirits.”

Eskild coos excitedly, pulling a chair up next to Ralph’s and Ralph moves over. Lucas waits as they get situated.

“Okay, tell us,” Ralph says, and they both look up at him.

“So…” Lucas takes a deep breath. He pauses, hearing a creak in the floor, and waits for a few seconds, listening, and continues when he doesn’t hear anything else. “I have a boyfriend.”

“You have a what?” Ralph practically yells and Eskild exclaims and claps. Lucas giggles, covering his face. “Wait, say that again, I wanna hear it again.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“Oh my god.” Ralph takes a heavy breath and looks away before looking back. “Do you remember when you told me—” “Ralph, sto-o-op.”

“—that you didn’t think you’d ever find someone?”

Eskild watches them, his jaw dropped, his hands still clasped in front of him.

Lucas sighs, smiling, and looks away, exasperated.

“I think I was…”

“What?” Eskild prompts when he trails off, and Lucas pauses before finishing his thought.

“I think I was waiting for him.”

They both squeal loudly, grabbing at each other, and Lucas laughs.

“That’s so fucking cute, oh my god,” Ralph says, shoving Eskild’s shoulder.

“I know.”

“What’s his name?” Ralph asks, leaning over, his elbows in the table.

“Jens.” Lucas can feel his face burning, can feel his cheeks flushing bright, and it only makes his smile more.

“Jens,” Ralph sighs. “Tell us about him, is he pretty?”

“Yes.”

They both snicker.

“How did you meet?” Eskild asks.

“Uhm… So I just kind of wander the city a lot, and one day I happened to be outside his dance studio when he was finishing practise.”

“Wait, his what studio?” Ralph asks, his jaw dropped and his eyes wide.

“Dance? He’s a ballerina.”

They both start yelling, grabbing at each other again, a mess of “Oh my go-o-o-od!” and “Ballerina!”, and Lucas laughs again, pressing his sweater-covered hands over his mouth.

“Lucas, you are… living my dream,” Eskild says when they manage to calm down, and Lucas laughs harder, not knowing what to say.

“How long have you guys been together?” Ralph asks.

“Uhm, a few weeks? I don’t really know what actually like, was the start of the relationship, if that makes sense.”

“Explain, please.”

“Like…” Lucas sighs. “When we first started hanging out, we were already kind of… flirty?” They both are smiling at him, and he keeps talking, trying to ignore it. “Like teasing and stuff, and then holding hands and playing with each other’s hair. And we went on a few dates.” “Where to?” Ralph asks.

“A cafe, skateparks. Honestly, just us hanging out outside his studio felt like dates.”

“That’s precious,” Eskild says.

“Who made the first move?” Ralph asks, setting his chin on his palm.

“Uhm,” Lucas pauses, thinking. “I asked to hang out first. And then I kissed him, but we didn’t talk about it at all. And then I told him to kiss me because he was taking too long.”

“Ooo, Lucas is bold.”

He shrugs, smiling bashfully.

“Wait, have you guys…” Ralph doesn’t finish the question, lowering his chin and raising his eyebrows as Eskild punches his shoulder.

“Ralph…” Lucas looks away, feeling like he just shoved his face into a pool of lava, suppressing a smile.

“I can’t tell if that’s a yes or a no.”

“No, we haven’t.”

“Okay,” Ralph says, holding his hands up like he’s surrendering. “Not a problem.”

“Do you want to?” Eskild asks, curiosity clearly getting the best of him.

“I mean…” Lucas sighs. “I guess, yeah. But if he doesn’t want to, like if it doesn’t happen, I won’t be upset, you know?”

“You’re an angel, Lucas van der Heijden,” Ralph says, and Lucas’s smile grows again.

He doesn’t feel as sad anymore.

Ralph seems to remember at the same time as him.

“Hey, did something happen before I called? You seemed… off.”

“I, uhm…” He pauses, contemplating whether or not to tell them. “I’d been talking to Jayden.”

“Jayden, skater Jayden?”

Lucas chuckles at this, the way Ralph has managed to remember his friends that he doesn’t know well. Skater Jayden, Skater Kes, Liv’s Noah, Liv’s Isa, etc.

“That’s the one.”

“Who’s Jayden?” Eskild asks, looking confused.

“One of Luc’s friends in Utrecht.”

Eskild nods, looking back to Lucas.

“Tell us,” Ralph says, and Lucas almost laughs at the seriousness of it all, at how they’re both looking at him like they’re his dads.

“I don’t know, I haven’t really been keeping up with him or Kes. Or anyone, really, except you and Noah. And we just happened to be online at the same time so he asked if I wanted to call and I said yeah, so…” He pauses, rubbing his face, feeling them both looking at him. “It was awkward at first, just because we haven’t been talking, and then it was fine, and then—” He cuts himself off, huffing and tossing his hands, suddenly frustrated. Pissed.

“What happened?” Eskild presses softy.

“I don’t know, he just… He started acting weird and then he kind of made a comment that like… that I’ve changed. And I tried to just shrug it off and I made a joke about moving countries, and he acted like… Like it was weird.”

“What the hell?” Ralph drops his hand and makes a face. “Did he say anything?”

“He said ‘You’ve changed,’ and then ‘Why are you acting like this?’ but when I asked what he meant he just changed the subject. And when we hung up it was just really uncomfortable and weird, and I just…”

“What the hell?” Ralph repeats.

“He seemed upset,” Lucas adds, his voice small, and for a second he thinks they couldn’t hear him.

“He can’t be upset about that,” Eskild says suddenly, looking at Ralph and then Lucas on the screen. “That’s what people do.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Ralph says, pointing at him. “That’s basically the meaning of life. The whole point of existence is change and growth.” Lucas listens intently. “And he may not know it but the way that you’ve changed has been growth. Every time we’ve talked since you moved to Antwerp, you seem more and more at ease with yourself, and you seem happier and happier.”

Lucas smiles.

“He can’t be mad that you’re changing,” Ralph continues, looking angry. “If you walk into a forest and find a sprig, you can’t be mad when you go back five years later and find a tree. That’s not—” He huffs and Eskild places a hand on his forearm.

“He has no reason to be upset,” Eskild continues for him. “It’s not like he hasn’t changed at all, right?”

“His hair is longer,” Lucas contributes. “And he has a new earring.”

“There you go, are you mad about it?”

Lucas laughs.

“No.”

“Exactly. Jayden’s a dummy.”

Lucas and Ralph laugh again, shaking their heads at Eskild.

“And why haven’t you been talking to them, was it just, like…” Ralph asks.

“I don’t know, when I first moved we talked a lot and kept up, but eventually it felt like I was the only one actually trying. Like, all their texts felt dry, and I just felt like they didn’t want to talk to me.” They nod. “Which could just be anxiety, but I stopped texting first as much and it just dwindled.”

“So none of them really talk to you?” Ralph says, looking surprised, and Lucas shakes his head.

“Not really.”

“You can’t give a hundred percent in a relationship with someone who won’t even give fifty,” Eskild says, and Ralph nods, pointing at him.

“Yeah,” Lucas sighs. “I’m kind of over it, I’m not that mad.”

They both look at him, looking sympathetic, their eyes soft.

“I mean, it hurt at first. But I’ve got Jens. And you guys, and Noah. And some friends here. It’ll be fine.”

Ralph smiles sadly.

“That’s true. You’ll always have people.”

“I’ll always have people.”

There’s a moment of silence and then Lucas snickers quietly.

“You guys are good… what’s the word I’m looking for, mentors? Confidants?”

“Gurus,” they say simultaneously, and then exclaim and point at each other excitedly as Lucas says, “That’s it!”

Ralph and Eskild laugh hysterically, and Lucas can’t help but laugh with them.

He gets Eskild’s phone number and Instagram before they hang up.

#TRIPLE CROSS OVER #also yes i am aware that jens would be a ballerino #actually he rly wouldnt bc hes a student but #whatever #van der stoffels #vds #lucas van der heijden #jens stoffels #jens x lucas #wtfock #wtfock fic #skam nl #skam nl fic #say my name and say it twice #cotton candy skies #cotton candy skies always look better in person

32 notes · View notes

smolbeandrabbles · 4 years ago

Text

Control - Ralph Anderson x Shifter!Reader 2 (The Outsider)

Sequel to Halfway Home

@mandy23b @wltz-bby @happyskywhale #mendotagsquad

Author’s Note: This song, this damn song, oh my god. I confess I hadn’t listened to any Halsey at all (besides a couple of collabs with other artists I like) until I was music swapping with @mandy23b... But I honestly don’t think I’ve loved an album this much lyrically in a very long time! Anyway, a second part was always in the works. This song for sure inspired the finish of it.

Thank you @mendelskrull and @crawlingmist I really REALLY hope the sequel was worth the wait 🙈🙈🙈🙈

Control - Halsey

Disclaimer: gif not mine / lyrics not mine / The Outsider & all associated characters not my property!

I wrote this before I read ‘If It Bleeds’ but I see the immediate eerie similarities in my Shifter species. I think I might cover it off in the finale...

Premise: After a particularly erratic encounter with Ralph Anderson, you wait on your fate... can you trust the Detective to make the right choice? Can he trust you, at all?

Words: 5737

Warnings: Swearing

⚠ Major Angst/Hurt Caution Warning (Again) ⚠

_____

They send me away to find them a fortune A chest filled with diamonds and gold The house was awake, the shadows and monsters The hallways, they echoed and groaned

I sat alone, in bed till the morning I'm crying, "They're coming for me" And I tried to hold these secrets inside me My mind's like a deadly disease

I paced around for hours on empty I jumped at the slightest of sounds And I couldn't stand the person inside me I turned all the mirrors around

I'm bigger than my body I'm colder than this home I'm meaner than my demons I'm bigger than these bones

And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me" I can't help this awful energy God damn right, you should be scared of me Who is in control?

---

Your first visitor the following morning surprised you. You thought Ralph might just have blanket banned the entire city from seeing you, but apparently some just wanted to break the rules. DA Kenneth Hayes stood hesitantly in the doorway watching you, clutching papers close to his chest – and you were inquisitive enough to wonder if he was about to serve you, or, you were going to be dragged into a questioning room. You sat yourself straight against the wall and folded your arms; “What will it be Hayes?” He jumped, and for a moment you thought you’d get a good laugh out of the papers scattering – no such luck though. “Detective Anderson has already appeared to have considered the full 48 hours. I just hoped as the DA you’d be able to shed a little light on the subject.” He was staring at you like he couldn’t believe you were talking, like an animal had suddenly found a human voice. You weren’t in the mood; “Look if you can’t tell me anything-” “Ralph told us to stay away from you.” “Then why are you here?” You realised how exasperated you sounded, but you hardly cared. “Are you… are you really…?” It was obvious that Hayes couldn’t bear to even voice it. “Yes. I am what he says I am. No, I didn’t have a hand in anything that happened here…” You tilted your head, “I don’t see why it has much consequence to you. They didn’t even tell you.” “But I know now.” You sighed; “Hayes just put me out of my misery, what’s the big plan!? I know I’m behind bars but I’m not an animal in a zoo.” Your eyes flashed, and it caused him to step back, truth was you were no longer trying to hide it, and they could all blame Ralph for that. “Least you could do is stop gawking at me like I’m about to spring into some kind of murderous, child-killing rampage, or change form.” He swallowed, “Ralph has it all planned out and I trust him.” “You know he put a gun to my head yesterday, right?” “I’m aware.” “Sounds like intent to me.” You scoffed, “I suppose to you I wouldn’t come under the remit of human rights, huh?” The way your eyes were burning an odd iridescent silver, and emitting light the way they were, made Hayes even more uneasy than just the thought of you really being a Shapeshifter, and he backed away – heart racing, “Good day, Y/N.” You shook your head after him with a roll of your eyes – Humans had always been so typical. Part of you wished for the days of old, when your kind was fascinating, mystifying and worshiped – and you could all coexist. Before humans, as they did, got ideas beyond their station. Now you were still revered, but not for being so unusual – for the thought alone that you could threaten their existence. People like Kenneth Hayes would brush this off as a bad dream and would never allow it to be mentioned or lingered on again, even if it was witnessed. Ralph would never forget – and it would scar him deep; that was without the added heartbreak of you. You were the final nail in the coffin for your beloved detective. You were sitting against the bars with your eyes closed the next time someone joined you. And you were immediately suspicious by the level of calm they issued – for one, you weren’t even in the mood to have visitors now. Ralph hadn’t come by, and by now you were thinking of refusing an apology if he even offered one. “Go away.” You groaned softly, “I don’t need you all staring at me like I’m some form of entertainment.” There was a tap against the bars and you cracked your eye open, greeted by a disposable coffee cup; “I’d rather make sure you were okay.” You took the cup from Detective Sablo, “Why? You were in Tennessee too. Your best friend know you’re doing this?” Yune sighed as he crossed the room to sit on the bench opposite your cell; “He’s not my best friend.” “Yeah he is…” You took a sip, and hummed in gratitude; he’d remembered your coffee order. Yune smiled gently; “I’m not afraid of you.” “You should be. He is.” “He loves you.” “Loved. I think you’ll find.” And you’d not forget that soon enough, your heart still greeted you with a sharp pain in remembrance. “Ralph’ll come around.” You indicated to the cell that you were stuck in, and it made him grimace, “Okay, I know. It’ll be a long time…” He ran his hands through his hair, “But I believe in the two of you – Look, Y/N, I want all of us to get out of this… I’ll talk to him; we’ll get you out of here. I promise.” “I’m not sure he wants to see me.” You took a few gulps of coffee, “At least not alive.” “Ralph’s not like that, you know he’s not like that.” You finished the cup and placed it outside of the cell for him to collect. “Yune, answer me one question.” He nodded, ready for it, and you breathed, “Who killed the Shifter in Tennessee?” “…I think it was a joint effort.” “Answer the question.” “I wasn’t there-” “Yune!” He had to realise that skipping around it was just as bad as what you knew the answer was. He swallowed hard, and couldn’t meet your eyes, “Ralph did.” You gave him a pointed look; which made his statement all but useless, “RALPH did.” *** Surprisingly Ralph Anderson did make his way down to you. You thought he might leave it the full two days and deal with you when he had to let you go, or when Hayes had figured out something that would lead to you spending a lot of time in prison. Maybe they’d even work out a way to pin the death penalty on you. You wondered if it’d work – but you weren’t sure you wanted to be the test subject. Or maybe he’d found a lab somewhere that was going to take you in – despite the fact that he’d spent the later part of his threats yesterday telling you that he’d rather no one knew you existed. You were back to lying on your bed and studying yourself with a depth of self-hatred – that this was something you’d chosen for yourself. That if Ralph Anderson came face to face with the real you, he probably wouldn’t have hesitated with pulling that trigger. That the blood flowing through your veins looked like the ink Ralph would make notes with in every interview he’d ever conducted, otherworldly, ethereal… dark and cold – rather than the rich red that could be associated with such emotions as anger, love and passion. The kind of emotions that were easy to feed on – your preference was love. Love was strong, and it only got stronger, and even when it wasn’t some kind of all raging passion when two people were all over each other, it was still there. And if you could surround yourself with couples (particularly those that had been in love a long time) you were at your happiest; and also your strongest. You supposed your Cherokee City counterpart had the same edge, but for fear, anger and total chaos. You could eat like a human, but you could sustain yourself on emotion alone. If he’d chosen a better path, he would have been able to as well – but he had to cause the pain he fed on. Which is why he had to move so frequently. After all, you couldn’t keep those close that you made angry or fearful of you – let alone if they died. But if someone loved you, if someone really loved you, you could live the rest of your life on them alone. You’d spent the best four years of your life living on his. But that was not the emotion that overtook Ralph Anderson’s body as he entered the room. It never would be again. You turned your head to him, and were met with that icy steel blue; calmer than last night, which you were glad of – you didn’t want to have to face that erratic anger again. But it hurt you; because your heart stirred just to see his face, and you had to push all of that back once more. He kept track of your every movement, but said nothing. When Ralph was satisfied, he opened the door; “Out.” You raised yourself, “What, they didn’t give you the full 48?” His eyes narrowed slightly; “I said out.” You stood and he unlatched the handcuffs from his belt “Hands front.” You raised an eyebrow in questioning but did as he asked. This was even more painful for Ralph – half of him felt terrible for going so out of control yesterday; half of him knew he was face to face with a monster, a woman who had lied to him for four years and broken his heart. He wasn’t about to apologise – and didn’t think you were either. He still kept his eyes on you as he picked up the bag, hating the fact that you were wearing one of his favourite shirts – he should never have given you that. But Ralph didn’t want any of your things in the house. He pulled himself upright to full height – you took half a step back, still not sure of exactly what he would do to you. You didn’t think Ralph knew himself. “Lets go.” He pulled you out of the cell and down the corridor – Ralph wasn’t about to tell you where of course, and it left you wondering if you were about to be met by a lawyer and a judge, and the same kind of water tight evidence that Terry Maitland had been. You supposed to the humans here your race deserved nothing less. And perhaps they were right. Humanity had never scared you; even when it had driven your race to hiding – you’d grown up around them, and you’d blended well. But humans had become the kind of scary stories told to children that ‘monsters’ were to them. Ralph’s reaction was simply proving every one of those stories true. When he pulled you back to the elevators you wondered if this was about to be Terry and the courthouse part II. Crowds of hundreds wanting a glimpse of a terrifying creature, and a few well aimed shots… “Stop it.” He growled, although he refused to look at you – talking to him was only going to make it worse, but upon flicking your eyes to the elevator doors you realised that all the thoughts in your head were causing your eyes to burn silver again. You blinked a couple of times and they returned to their ‘natural’ colour. Ralph gripped you tighter as he pushed you in, and as you found yourself in the parking lot, you were surprised to see there wasn’t a soul in sight. That only made you turn to him; “Where are we going?” He ignored you, pulling him along to his car and opening the back door – your stare was defiant and this time you demanded it, “WHERE are we going!?” “Get. In. The. Car.” Ralph’s voice shook with every syllable and you knew he was dangerously close to losing it with you again. He also probably didn’t like that you weren’t about to just let him order you around here, you’d always had a little bit of push about you – it was an aspect of your personality he really liked, especially when you were snarking someone he didn’t. Right now, Ralph didn’t need or want it – he just wanted you to get in the car so that he could do what he must. You only conceded because you weren’t sure you wanted that stalemate to end with getting shot – a little too aware of the pistol on his utility belt. He slammed the door on you and took a deep breath; it wouldn’t take much – he’d done it before. If he could keep a clear head, he could do it again – Ralph could finish this easily. All he had to do was get through this. *** You realised very quickly that you were heading for the city limits and sat up, twisting around in your seat. No court case? No going back home? You knew where the jail was and he certainly wasn’t heading that way. What was he doing? You bit your lip, knowing it couldn’t be good. Wondering if Ralph was numb to it all, or was simply that good at controlling his emotional output. It scared you that you weren’t sure of the answer. And suddenly you wished you didn’t know the answer to the question you’d asked Yune; one tear leaked and you rubbed your cheek on your shoulder to hide it, heck, now you wished you’d never asked that question in the first place. When Ralph finally stopped the car you weren’t sure ‘middle of nowhere’ covered it. You weren’t even sure what you were supposed to feel – and he’d been off-roading for so long he might well have been lost. Maybe Ralph Anderson wanted to get lost. It occurred to you that he might not want to be found out here; maybe he’d take that pistol and kill you before turning it on himself. Ralph didn’t seem like the type, but you felt perhaps now you’d seen him at his worst (what else would you call the previous evening), maybe he was… maybe he could do something that devastating. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel for a long time before he decisively shut the engine off – gathering his radio, cell phone, and gun, Ralph hopped from the car and pocketed all items before opening the back and dragging you out. Ralph marched you a little way from the vehicle and stood you roughly in the grassland before growling at you to stay still, and walking back towards the car. He stopped, maybe 10 paces from you and turned back. You blinked, but no emotions crossed your face. That only made him angrier, but Ralph wasn’t sure what he wanted to see out of you – blind rage and anger that would prove to him you really were the monster underneath your guise? Tears streaming down your face and begging him for mercy – as you rightly should be, after everything that had gone down in the past few months, after what you’d done to him for years. Maybe even controlled acceptance of your situation, that it had to end this way and you were alright with that. But there was nothing; not even that shiver inducing silver in your eyes. The silence eschewed and you found yourself looking around, fields and farmland to one side rolling for miles into hills, and a forest in the distance on the other – too far to think that even with your decent sprinting you could get into cover before he put a bullet in your body. Maybe if you weren’t human, but you weren’t about to give Ralph Anderson the satisfaction of seeing your true form. You looked back to him and took a step; “Look, whatever you’re gonna do… Will you just do it already.” The pistol was drawn immediately; “NOT another step.” “You’re really gonna use it this time-!?” You couldn’t help your cold laugh; “I swear to God Ralph Anderson, if you have it in you, it better be a good fucking shot.” If he wasn’t about to keep the venom out of his voice then neither would you. Ralph just shook his head. Paying more attention to his gun than you, he checked everything was in working order; “How could you do this-!? Do you not even think about what you’re doing to the person you’re with-!? How utterly selfish it is to play someone like that?” You flinched, pulling back a few paces – the metal of your restraints cutting into your wrists. What right did he have to ask you something like that? “Look at me, Ralph Anderson.” He didn’t. And this time you weren’t sure if you were crying from anger or because it was hurting you so much and you were just letting it; “RALPH! LOOK AT ME!” You yelled it, “Look me in the eye and tell me that even without the Frankie Peterson case, if I’d have told you what I was then you wouldn’t have reacted in exactly the same way-!” He raised his blue eyes to you, and he didn’t have to answer, the guilt was already there. “Tell me the second I said shapeshifter you wouldn’t have thought me insane – that the second I’d have shifted into someone else to show you, you wouldn’t have cast me out as a freak and wanted to use your damn pistol on me anyway.” “You could have HELPED the case!” “It’s NOT the case-! Stop pretending it’s the case! If you knew what I really was Ralph, you’d run 1000 fucking miles and not look back and you know it. The case!?” You looked around you again and now he could clearly see the tears running, “The case has put me in a field in handcuffs waiting for the man I love to kill me.” “NO. Don’t!” He held his hand up, “Don’t tell me you love me. You gave up that right.” “Then for Godsake Ralph,” you presented your body to him, “Just get it over with because I can’t take this.” your eyes narrowed, flickering again, “But don’t you dare presume to tell me that I can’t love you.” That was decisive enough and he swept his pistol up to aim for your head; yet Ralph knew he was thinking too much. He just wasn’t sure what the right thing to do was – wasn’t killing you just as bad as murdering someone? Sure, he’d killed one of you in Tennessee – but you weren’t an evil murdering entity (as far as he knew). You were you. And what Ralph would have to accept was that even if you were a monster, he couldn’t end your life without killing a part of himself. You watched all of this cross his face, even though his look maintained the utter hatred and disgust for what you really were, and you were soon yelling at him again; “Oh, why don’t you just aim for my heart—!!!!” He gritted his teeth; “Because that won’t work!” Hadn’t your counterpart taken a shot gun and a knife to the chest before he’d crushed its head with a rock? How many bullets would you take? Could he count on it being a one and done? You gave a shrug, wondering if there was just enough love in Ralph left for you to somehow talk him out of it, “For him maybe-! For me who knows-!” You focused acutely on his body, you knew that DNA so well by now; you could feel Ralph Anderson coursing through your veins even when he wasn’t a part of you. His breath was small, but still significant – the safety gave a click, and you realised this was the time to be anything that you could be but scared. Even if your fear was driving you to this. You didn’t really want to die, after all. You hadn’t come all this way in so many lifetimes for a Cherokee City detective to end your life in the middle of nowhere. “If shooting me is so easy for you, do it Ralph. But I should show you what you’ll do to yourself-!” Ralph would have asked you what the hell you meant. Ralph would have asked a million questions that he never got the chance too; because real fear finally flickered across his face, and his body became rooted to the spot, eyes wide. One second he’d been staring at you, defiant even in the face of your own death by his hand – until your eyes illuminated once more; but instead of it just stopping there, your whole body seemed to shimmer out of focus and pixelate. It clearly didn’t take you months to shapeshift into someone else – because now Ralph Anderson was standing face to face with himself. And if it wasn’t for the fact that your eyes were still a gentle silver colour (always the last thing to accurately render), it would have been just like looking in a mirror. Instead Ralph got chills; he’d seen a lot, he would admit to that much, but he’d never seen anything as unnerving as this. He had no choice than to immediately look away from you, hand over his mouth, for fear of throwing up over all this once again. Your eyes narrowed and you tipped your head to follow his movement – he better not think he was getting away with that. Unfortunately, your straining on the cuffs still didn’t cause them to break, and you could already feel the likelihood of leaving Ralph’s DNA in the middle of the field as pretty high, considering how raw your wrists now looked. “Look at me.” Oh, that was much worse. The shudder that coursed through Ralph’s body must have been visible – his voice coming from you; well him, but- It wasn’t him. He shook his head continuously. This was too much. This was way too much and Ralph was suddenly aware of how in over his head he was. He should have brought back-up. He should have listened to his friends. Ralph Anderson suddenly realised just how alone he was out here; and finally comprehended just what was in front of him. “LOOK AT ME!” This time you screamed it, repeatedly, admitting to yourself that there was a certain power that came with being in someone else’s body whilst also facing said person. And it’d never felt so good as this moment. Eventually Ralph Anderson did – but you could feel him when you were like this – and if anything, he was only looking at you because he wanted it to stop. He straightened; the pistol was still very much in play but lowered and hesitant, still you didn’t trust him not to take out your knee at the way he was holding it, and that finger was still hovering on the trigger. “What is wrong with you?” You continued, wondering if he might even listen to himself, “I can tell you what I think is wrong with you, Ralph Anderson, and you can hate me for it all you want – but I think it’s about time someone told you the truth.” You took a step and the pistol raised a little higher; “You have survivors guilt for whatever the hell happened in Tennessee, you feel guilty about everything that happened to Terry; from the way you arrested him to the way he died, guilt that you’ve left the Maitland family in the state it’s in and two girls without a father, guilt for the Peterson family because they’re all gone now – not forgetting the fact you shot Ollie. You think you’ve got off lightly with therapy sessions. For the record, I think he’s a God awful therapist and I get the feeling you don’t hold him in regard much higher than I.” You took a breath, “You feel guilty about everything that happened on this case, and every other fucking person that suffered at the hands of that shapeshifter and everything it ever touched.” You pointed to yourself… or… himself. “But I am NOT it, Ralph!! I didn’t do ANY of that. And you’re still here! You’re still alive and you’re still breathing! And you have friends and people who LOVE you!!!” You shook your head, suddenly a picture-perfect image of the man who’d been on the other side of your cell yesterday; “Face yourself—!! Face the person YOU are-!! How hard can it be!?” You couldn’t place your fingers exactly on the look on has face, it was such a distinct form of fear. No-one in the world should have to face themselves in such a way as this; and you could see it, Ralph Anderson was terrified of you. And you acknowledged that with a twisted smile; “Yeah. You’re damn right! You should be scared of me.” But it wasn’t just you, was it, that’s what you were getting at; “Scared of ME and yourself – at the man you can become!”

By this time Ralph was shaking, his hands were trembling and all he needed was one shot. Perhaps that was the point – was that what you were saying? By ending you, he might finally have peace? Or were you saying that’s what he thought he could have and it wouldn’t be that way? That he should face everything he’d done… that he thought he might have done, even when he hadn’t, and feel better. You didn’t want to die, but if he was going to do it the only thing you wanted right now was Ralph Anderson to be free from everything that haunted him. Even when you’re pointing a gun at my head I still fucking love you… But the shakes became sobs, and even Ralph knew he couldn’t hold that gun steady enough to take a clean shot. His vision blurred as tears ran; “God dammit-!” The pistol left his hands, settling in the grass – and Ralph’s hands went back to his face, trying to wipe those tears away as if you hadn’t been staring at him long enough to see them. Knowing it was over, you shimmered back to yourself, and although you wanted nothing more than to run over to him and hold him close to reassure him – the situation still had you standing calmly in the spot that he had placed you – waiting for Ralph to free you himself. Your detective crossed the grass to you, tears still staining his face, and again you found yourself wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold him close. You weren’t sure you’d like the result of that one – he had pointed a gun to your head and been seconds from pulling the trigger. Twice. In two days. Even though his hands were still trembling as he pulled yours towards him, he managed to unlock the cuffs with ease. “R-Ralph-” “Go. GO-!” He wiped his eyes again, nudging you away from him; resolve completely done. And you had a terrible feeling that Ralph Anderson was more broken than he’d ever been before. You shook your head, closing the gap again and trying to get him to look at you; “You don’t mean that…” You whispered gently, glad that he didn’t put away when you placed your hand delicately on his arm, “…You don’t.” “I do.” If there was ever a time to let him know that no matter your race you were still you, it was now. Maybe he expected the monster to run for its life. The woman who loved him would stay. “Tell me, Ralph Anderson. Tell me you want me to go. Right now. Say those words. That full sentence.” He was still determined not to let his eyes meet your face; “I want… I want….” But his body was still shaking; and his lip quivered. Ralph didn’t finish his sentence before he was sobbing again. “You can ask me to stay. Ralph. We can go back. I know this is going to take time, maybe a lot of time… but we ca-” “No. We can’t.” He shook his head, “I won’t.” Your face fell as he held out his car keys, “Take it. Take the car and go - I don’t care where, anywhere - just not Cherokee City. Not back to me.” “Ralph…” Your disbelief was more than evident, after all, you hadn’t done anything wrong and yet realised you were the one begging for his forgiveness now; “…Why? What about you?!” “Yune can pick me up. Look TAKE them!” He closed your hands around the keys and stepped away from you again, “Leave-! I’m letting you go, God dammit just GO!” “NO!” You shook your head again, “Why won’t you let us fix this? We can make this work! You know we can!” “BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO BE WITH YOU ANYMORE!” You were forced into a stunned silence, and your eyes couldn’t help but burn again. If you expected anything from him, it wasn’t that. You opened your mouth, but suddenly found it hard to form words. “I DON’T EVER WANT TO EVEN SEE YOU AGAIN-!!! BUT I CAN’T EVEN KILL YOU – I LOVED YOU TOO MUCH TO KILL YOU, AND WHAT DOES THAT MAKE ME!?” Ralph ran his hands through his hair, and suddenly that strange crazy energy he’d given off the evening before was back – but a hell of a lot more erratic. “R…Ra…Ralph.” You weren’t sure it was something you could reason with; and he snapped, just to prove you right; “GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! FUCKING GO!” His advance on you made you stagger back, and this time the fear that ran across your face was something he’d never seen before. It unnerved him but he couldn’t stop now; “LEAVE! NO ONE IN CHEROKEE CITY WANTS YOU AROUND ANYWAY!” That was just a little too much, there was a knife already through your heart, he didn’t have to twist it. You were staring at a man you’d loved for four years, and you didn’t recognise him at all. ‘Oh my god, who… who is this man?’ The pain was unbearable, and you didn’t want to cry – you couldn’t show him he was upsetting you; but Ralph Anderson probably already knew exactly what he was doing. You shook your head, continuing to walk backwards towards the car – staring at him hard, even if you couldn’t hate him you could still let him know how angry you were. And you’d show him your anger before you let him upset you. ‘Human beings, all the same… I should just have listened…’ Throughout history when weren’t you told to never get involved with one? Lifespan was the least of the worries at the top of any other shapeshifters list; but you’d always been fascinated – and their biggest advocates. They were afraid and they had to drive you to this point, that always made sense – but they were fragile, and emotional, and they could love in ways so unconditional that you’d never seen another species replicate. Yet here you were, and the one you’d wanted to spend the rest of his life with was doing this. And Ralph Anderson was one of the good ones. “You have it wrong, Ralph Anderson. So fucking wrong. You think you don’t know me... but really, it’s me that doesn’t know YOU.” You didn’t turn as you kept backing towards his car, “How can you – YOU – prove my race so fucking right!?” You opened the door, still glaring at him, you wanted to say it, you wanted to tell him that you couldn’t believe you’d ever loved him. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t even bring yourself to pretend you felt that. Because even now when he was breaking your heart – you’d never loved a person as much as you had him. And you knew you didn’t know where you’d go from here – but you knew you’d carry that feeling with you for the rest of your life. There would never be another Ralph Anderson. You stopped looking at him, slamming the door shut, belting yourself in and starting the engine, throwing it into gear. You paused with a deep breath and allowed yourself one last glance at him. Standing there in the middle of a field alone watching you leave. Take a good hard look, Y/N, because you will never see this man again… You peeled your eyes away with an exhale, and closed them, counting to 10 before you pushed your foot to the pedal and the car began moving. But now you were stuck with eerie silence, and the echoes of his voice in your head – the remnants of his DNA in your veins. You knew Ralph would never let you go, but right now you couldn’t handle that. And suddenly realising how alone in the world you were, you had to pull over to the side. Tears were running before you’d even slowed to a stop, you buried your face in your arms against the steering wheel and all you could do was let out huge, shaking sobs. God damn you, Ralph Anderson… Why?! *** 9 Months Later…

You’d watched him for a little while, sitting in that little corner coffee shop. You would call him new in town; only you’d seen him a few times whilst running around. He drew you in in a similar way to the detective whose face you wore a little more often than you’d care to admit. Ralph’s body made you feel safe when you were alone, especially at night – he was familiar, his voice was familiar. Comfortable. Yet, with Ralph you could torture yourself for everything you’d ever done – and you were no longer content with looking at your own form. This man was gone because of you. Still, there was something about the one you were watching that you couldn’t quite put your fingers on… You tapped your stirrer against the top of your cup and bit your lip gently – never a fan of making the same mistake twice. But you knew that aura well, and he wasn’t human. Which was why you were sitting here and you looked like you again. Even though you couldn’t let him go; it was still Ralph’s shirt you were wearing, it was still his car you were driving, it was still him that you cried over every night. That didn’t mean that the man now turning from the counter with his coffee didn’t intrigue you enough to try it; had you found one just like you? His eyes met yours, and that silver flashed. And this time you couldn’t help but smile, using exactly the same tell on him. He wasn’t expecting it, and immediately froze, despite the tiny smile making its way to his lips.

And for the first time since you’d left Ralph Anderson in a middle of nowhere field, you didn’t feel quite so alone…

---

I really appreciate your support for this series 💕 Thank you for your readership! I’m sorry!

#Ralph Anderson #Ben Mendelsohn #Ralph Anderson x Reader #The Outsider #The outsider hbo #HBOs the Outsider #Ralph x Shifter!Reader #Shifter!Reader #Dia #Ever since reading If It Bleeds she certainly looks like Dia and not an AU!Harmony...#I mean I think this is probably worse than either of you were envisioning #UGHH! THIS SONG!!#SHE HAS SO MANY AMAZING SONGS FOR THE BOIS!!!!#IT'S SO CRAZY AND I LOVE IT!#158

37 notes · View notes

jungle321jungle · 4 years ago

Text

Level Two: Wait, You’re Not An NPC?

The world of Swords of Power and Conquest was one Virgil dove head first into, giving his soul and life to the game. He would play whenever he could, and had even decided he wanted to go into game design. At times he had even dreamt of how wonderful it would be to be inside that world for even a moment- until that world became his reality.

The familiar world he had come to love was now a foreign prison, one with no way out.

A Log Horizon AU. If you don’t know what that is, this is a Show Better Than SAO AU. If you still don’t know, the sides get trapped in a video game.

Ao3 - Masterlist

Taglist: @hells-missing-a-goat @angels-and-dreams @ollyollyoxinfree @gattonero17 @chumo-cookie @dreaming-always @anxiety-ismy-name @mrbubbajones @janustheliar

~~~~

Level Two: Wait, You’re Not An NPC?

Virgil wasn’t sure how long he had stood there. Stood there staring at his surroundings in shock and disbelief. But it was the familiar sound of a message which shocked him out of his stupor. Virgil’s eyes darted around him wondering how to open and answer- or if he was truly insane- when a voice sounded in his mind.

“Tony?”

The voice was one which filled Virgil with relief to the point of tears welling in his eyes, but none of this could be real, right? Right?

“Tony?” It asked again.

Virgil chose to indulge his own delusions as he wiped at his eyes. “Jack?”

“Oh thank God that worked!” The voice came from the other side of- of Virgil’s mind? “What the fuck is going on?”

“You’re asking me? This-” He stopped looking around at the forest and taking in the feeling of the sun streaming through the trees to let its warmth land on his skin, and the sound of animals running round. The sounds which were both so familiar and yet so foriegn. “This is all...”

“I know. One moment I was sitting in my room, the next I’m standing in the Tavern. And I mean, not my character but- but me.”

The unsteadiness in that voice was something Virgil wasn’t sure he had ever heard before. But then again, neither was this situation. “I’m at the fork,” was all he said.

“Then get your ass over here.”

With that the “call” ended and Virgil found himself moving. Leave it to Piggy to calm him down to a state of action with so few words. He wasn’t sure anyone else he had ever known was capable of such a thing.

Virgil moved quickly. He ran down the path following the way he knew but keeping his eyes peeled. Monsters had always been in this area, but when the Tavern had been opened the monsters had become some sort of a rite of passage. If someone couldn’t get past them, then they didn’t deserve to be in the Tavern in the first place. That’s why he and Piggy together had placed the sign post and the teleport spot at the fork. It was a test. One Virgil hoped he could pass.

He gave a hard swallow as he continued on listening carefully to the sounds in the trees, bushes and forest floor. But not daring to stop long enough to wait for something to find him. He was close. The Tavern would be in the coming clearing.

Ralph was waiting for him in the coming clearing.

It was when the breeze ceased that rustling became clear. Virgil’s breath shuddered but he didn’t stop and draw the sword he could feel strapped to his back. Not yet. As it grew closer and it’s footsteps sounded heavy Virgil reached back his fingers closing on his sword hilt- ready. He would wait as long as he could- because he couldn’t afford a fight. He couldn't afford the risks he had thought he had enjoyed.

Virgil could feel the roar of the monster in his bones- in his core. Tyren. A level 28 monster resembling a mix of wolf and cat with claws which hold poison. They were generally weak on their own. But they had a habit of traveling in packs. This wasn’t a fight he could win- not anymore. All he could do was run.

His heart drummed faster in his chest with every step he took. His eyes were burning with unshed tears but he couldn’t let them fall and obscure his view. Not when he could see the Tavern. Not when in a few moments he knew he’d be able to see the sign for the Serpent’s Den. Another roar sounded to his right. Followed by one to his left. And the growling from nearly all sides.

They were going to trap him. To get in front of him and surround him and then take their time ripping him apart. He wanted to puke. He wanted to feel like the walls weren’t closing in. He wanted to be back in his room- hell he’d go back to taking that fucking exam. He’d go back to anything. Anything but this.

He launched himself into the clearing not daring to look back as the roars continued. He sprinted for the back door praying to anyone who would listen that the door would be open. Thankfully his prayers were swiftly answered as the door burst open and Ralph was standing there crossbow in hand. Despite himself Virgil felt his lips curl into a smile as he watched his friend take aim. He ran toward him not bothered with where Ralph was aiming. It could be to his heart for all Virgil cared, it would be better than being torn apart. But he heard the whistle of an arrow flying past his head and the screech of a pierced tyren. He didn’t dare look back.

It was close. Ten steps. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

Virgil threw himself onto Ralph sending them both flying to the ground and he could only laugh in relief as they both hit the ground, and the door slammed shut behind him.

Virgil closed his eyes letting his tears fall as he listened to the sound of Ralph’s heartbeat. Ralph himself did nothing simply laying there, not saying a word nor pushing Virgil away. But after a moment Virgil pulled himself off and Ralph moved himself into a sitting position. Today’s face scanning Virgil with eyes that screamed worry.

“I’m okay,” Virgil said finally.

“No you’re not,” he disagreed. “No one’s okay right now.”

Virgil only gave a nod as he wiped at his face. When he had he looked back to Simon’s face unsure of what to say or do- but he found his gaze drifting above his head to the screen name which still managed to float about his head, lordofthelies.

“This is too real,” he said finally.

Simon gave a chuckle, “Not the word I’d pick, but yeah. You sure you’re okay?”

“None of them got me,” Virgil assured him, but seeing the disbelief in Simon’s face he continued. “But I never thought I’d be scared of tyrens ever again. Haven’t worried about them since I got past level 45.”

“I’m not sure if alcohol works here,” Simon said standing. His eyes darted around his office before he extended a hand. “Join me in finding out?”

“Hell yes.”

They drank and sat in a comfortable silence and it wasn’t until Virgil could really feel its mind numbing effects that he spoke again. “Customers?”

“None,” Jack replied. “Today was the peace talk remember? I had closed in order to prep for the guilds which had rented out the space for a private space to talk. They had just walked into the forest and me back into my office when...”

Virgil nodded and knocked back the rest of his glass and reached to get himself a refill. “I had been out scrap picking. I had just teleported.”

“Have you been able to reach anyone else?”

Virgil shook his head, “I don’t even know how.”

“To be honest I’m not entirely sure either. I was just thinking that I needed to message you no matter what; and then I heard the sent sound. And then I could hear you.”

“Have you gotten anyone else?”

“A few. Tact, Rolls, Bilder67. But for those who aren’t responding I don’t know if it’s because they’re not logged in or because of something else.”

“They probably don’t know how.”

Piggy’s eyes showed overwhelming disbelief but he changed the subject. “You should get some sleep. I’m going to stay up in case anyone comes.”

“But-”

“You know where my room is.”

Virgil wanted to argue, but the thought of sleep was enticing, so he made his way upstairs to the small little loft and flopped on the bed, drifting off near instantly.

~~~~

“Morning.”

“Morning,” Virgil mumbled back, moving to sit at the bar counter. “No one came then?”

Simon shook his head then he sipped at what must’ve been coffee. “None. And I’ve only heard back from Tact... but I figured out a few things.”

“Like how to cook us breakfast?”

A smirk graced that face as he turned slightly to face Virgil. “I was going to explain that I figured how to use game controls but I mean if you want burned eggs I can do that instead.”

“You can’t cook?” Virgil asked in surprise.

“Not well.”

“And you own a Tavern?”

“A virtual tavern. Why don’t you cook and I’ll explain?”

“Alright,” Virgil shrugged, hopping off his stool and making his way to the kitchen. He paused upon entering it, “How do I even access food? Is it in the cabinets? Or my inventory?”

“Ah, so you do need to know how to play.” Simon smiled.

“Just hand me food.”

Simon shook his head, “You need to learn. Basically focus on what you usually see on the computer screen.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow but when Simon made no move to do anything he closed his eyes picturing his screen in his mind. In the top corner left would be his health. In the bottom right would be the mini map of the area, and his five saved skills. In the bottom left corner would be the inventory he’s wearing, the stats of his clothes and his sword. And in the top right would be the bar for him to access skills or inventory. Picturing it all he took a deep breath and opened his eyes and nearly stepped back in shock to see his screen as pictured.

And he wasn’t exactly sure if he was shocked or relieved to see his HP at 73%.

“Push inventory,” Simon advised.

Virgil nodded and reached up to hit the word inventory and was surprised to see as the boxes appeared. For a few moments he scrolled through what he had, before he found some eggs and he apprehensively moved to tap the icon. Except his arm went into it and his fingers closed around a large egg. He pulled his arm back and the large egg came with it- he needed to take it in two hands to ensure he didn’t drop it.

“Nice,” Simon nodded, moving past him to turn on the stove and setting a pan on the burner. “I want it over easy.”

“You’re getting scrambled.” Virgil replied, setting the egg on the counter and already searching his inventory for some milk. “This thing is too big for me to flip it. It’s scrambled or nothing.”

“Fine.”

They lapsed into silence as Virgil worked, but a question was still burning in his mind. “The Starter Village... it’s probably safest there, isn’t it?”

Jack gave a sigh, “Probably. But it’s also probably swarmed with people thinking the same.”

“Safety in numbers?”

“Chaos in crowds.”

“Avoid people then.”

“That’s not what I mean. I said I talked to Tact right? People are rioting in the Starter Village. And most cities. They’re gonna deplete all their resources. Meanwhile it’s just the two of us here, we’d last longer here. And if someone makes it here? Well, if we’re gonna survive we need strength. People who can make it here are strong. We know that much.”

“We don’t even know if we can make it here anymore,” Virgil pointed out as he put the eggs on a plate. “But I get what you mean. Is Tact coming here?”

Jack gave a shrug as he handed Virgil a fork and poked at the food. “I don’t know. He said he wanted to gather information first, but I doubt he’ll come this way until we figure out what happens when HP reaches zero. And if health potions work.”

“I hope they do.”

“Same. And when people do get here. I think we should lay low for a while. People will probably swarm you for new armor and swords. Maybe we can get more information from listening to the chaos. But it might be a few days before anyone comes.”

Virgil only nodded, not wanting to acknowledge that they could really be here that long.

~~~~

Nine days.

It had been nine days since Virgil found himself trapped in the game he had fallen in love with. And he still found there wasn’t much he could do. One day four he and Jack had been bored and daring enough to step outside the Tavern, to see how their swordsmanship fared against one another before even daring to take steps in the woods.

From it Virgil had learned he could still use basic moves and swing his sword well enough. And he had also realized he could use his saved skills or very basic skills the same way he had accessed his inventory. But now one day nine neither he nor Jack had figured out how to do both simultaneously. And it seemed the few customers and coworkers which had trickled in didn't have a clue either. They had all run for their lives and stuck to the basic skills and had barely managed to make it to the Tavern. But all of them agreed that despite the danger outdoors the Tavern was safer than the cities which were rapidly running out of space, and due to fear of going hunting players were running out of money and had resorted to robbing one another. Virgil could only hope those people wouldn’t come his way.

“Hey! Anthony! Get me another beer!”

Virgil only blinked at the drunk customer (blueskiesareyellow according to his screen name), “Hello sir, would you like to browse my shop?”

“Beer! I want to buy beer!”

“I’m sorry I don’t sell that item. But I do my best to sell all sorts of armor, weapons, and rare items. Would you like to look around?”

The man gave a look of disgust and began shouting at one of the Tavern girls, MannaM, to get him a beer. “Damn NPC. Good for nothing.”

A woman further down the bar gave a laugh, and Virgil recognized her as one of his repeat customers, FuckThisImTheB3st. “Be nice to my man Anthony. He’s got some good stuff to sell!”

Virgil gave him a slight smile, “Hello ma’am, would you like to browse my shop?”

“Not right now,” she dismissed.

“Alright. Please let me know when I can be of service.”

On any other day this would be considered horribly slow. Only six customers, and two workers. Usually they were packed all days of the week with players gossiping information to be sold to the highest bidder. But now all they had was a depleting amount of food and alcohol to be sold. And Virgil wasn’t entirely sure what they would do when they’d run out of food, Simon claimed he was working on it but Virgil doubted he knew either.

The slamming open of the Tavern door was something of a surprise. Then it walked three faces which Virgil recognized. Virgil tried to keep himself calm as one of which locked eyes with him and stormed up the counter and slammed his hands down on it. “I need the owner. Now.”

Virgil gave him a smile, “I am the owner of my shop. Would you like to browse?”

“What? No- I want the guy who owns this place.”

“I do my best to sell all sorts of armor, weapons, and rare items. Would you like to look around?”

“No! I want to speak to the owner.”

“I am the owner, sir. Would you like to browse-“

“Are you even listening to me?”

“He’s an NPC dumbass!” FuckThisImTheB3st shouted.

Tact stepped up next to his companion. “Hello Anthony, May we gain entry to your shop?”

Virgil gave him a smile and moved out from the behind the bar and led the way to the hidden door. He unlocked it and stepped into his shop. Inside Simon stood holding out an armored vest to a player, kittycat=patt, but both looked up as Virgil entered.

“Tact!” Simon smiled. “Good to see you.”

Tact gave a nod as he moved forward leaning on his cane as he did. “I’ve told you many times to call me by name and not that uncreative nickname.”

“And since when do I listen to you?”

“Roman! Remus!” kittycat=patt smiled. “It’s good to see you both! I haven’t seen you both since the Dragon Raid!”

“Patts!” <3getting2Dsat1 cheered running forward to embrace the other girl. The two started talking quickly and suddenly but Virgil was still trying to process that TheSwordTwins- aka the duo with their own YouTube Channel that Virgil had watched every video from were casually standing right in front of him.

“Tony, lock the door?” Simon asked, stopping Virgil from staring. When the door was locked all of them sat down at the table leaving Virgil standing.

“Hey Lies,” royaltyforroyalme or Roman started. “Can you tell your NPC to stop staring and leave?”

Simon paused before he shook his head, “He stays. Anyway Tact, why are we all here?”

“My name is Logan,” He corrected instantly. “I am a tactician for the pay, it’s not who I am. But as for why we all are here I have two pieces of information to share. And lucky you for you I won’t charge a fee.”

“How generous.”

“The first is I have seen first hand that just as when this game was purely game, revival is possible.”

“You’ve seen it?” kittycat=patt blurted.

Logan gave a nod, “I have. I had posted myself outside of the East Hospital and was awaiting to see if anyone revived. And someone had. Two evenings ago I was about to head back to the inn where I was staying when the tell tale glow of the building started and a player appeared in front of it proclaiming and crying in relief at still being alive. I kept my post until this morning and confirmed this was not a fluke by watching it happen multiple times and I also interviewed each of the revived players. Thus I can conclude that when a player's HP reaches zero they come back to life as a character should. But at the same time it doesn’t seem to be a pleasant experience.”

“I think that’s the best thing I've heard since this started,” Piggy commented, relaxing in his chair. “But what’s the second piece of information?”

“I have a theory- or perhaps hopeful thoughts on how to get out of here.”

“What is it?” Virgil blurted moving closer.

“Ah, is that what it takes to get you to break character Anthony?” Logan asked, amused.

“Answer the question.”

Logan nodded. “The main quest. This game was designed so that it would update itself when the main quest was completed. Perhaps a fix to the servers can free us. That’s why I asked you all here. Lies is not only a legendary holder, but one of the biggest names in the information trade. Roman and Remus each hold one as well, and when I called both they told me Patton was as well. And you Anthony are certainly high enough level to aid us.”

“That’s a gamble.”

“It is,” Logan acknowledged. “But it is better than simply sitting and waiting for rescue?”

“Wait,” Roman cut in. “You’re not an NPC?”

Virgil blinked, “No. I’m not.”

“Then why?”

“People are more likely to talk about things when they don't know they’re being listened to,” Piggy commented. “And now since the joke wasn’t as funny as I intended, Tony come sit.”

“I can’t go get a chair, everyone out there doesn't know I’m not an NPC.”

He patted his lap, “Sit.”

“Fuck off Piggy.”

“Am I not good enough to sit on?”

Virgil resisted the urge to punch him in the face as he looked back to Logan. “If the game reboots if the quest is cleared, wouldn’t that just kill us?”

“As I confirmed there is no death as we know it in this world, that is unlikely,” Logan replied.

“But how are you going to do it? We’re still missing five swords. Not to mention the main quest is literally impossible. That’s why no one has done it!”

“There was no motivation to. Before the goal of most players was to simply enjoy the game for all about its main quest. We simply need to shift focus.”

Virgil shook his head, “Ralph tell him it’s impossible.”

Ralph paused in thought before he sighed. “We don’t have any better ideas at the moment. And at least it’s something.”

“What if we only have a limited number of lives?” Virgil tried.

“There’s only one way to find out!” Remus cheered. “Roman! Stab me through the boob!”

Roman paid his brother no mind, “He does have a point. We don’t know if our luck will run out.”

“I think we should go for the swords,” kittycat=patt tossed in. “If it’s possible we can get out quicker shouldn’t we?”

“Do we know where the missing swords are?”

At that Logan turned to Jack, “What do you know?”

Jack gave a frown and his eyes flickered to Virgil before he crossed his arms over his chest. “Before we talk about that we should talk about logistics.”

“What's there to talk about?” Roman frowned. “Either you have the information or you don’t.”

“The game ends when one person collects all ten legendary swords. Shouldn’t we discuss who will be doing the holding of these swords? Because quite frankly I don’t know anyone sitting here well enough to believe you won’t steal everything and sell it.”

“I want to go home, not make money!” kittycats=patt said quickly.

Logan gave a nod, “We both know I have gold to spare.”

“I want to get back to my life,” Roman agreed.

“How much money do you think you’re all worth?” Remus asked.

“Remus.”

“I’m kidding Ro! Kidding! I wanna get back too... mostly. I mean can you blame me? This is cool as hell.”

“I suggest we each hold onto our own swords until the end,” Logan stated, putting things back on track. “And as for acquiring more, I suggest the person who claims it carries it. And once we have them all between us we figure out how to clear the game itself. Until then we have no choice but to trust one another.”

For some reason Virgil wasn’t sure he liked that idea.

“We’re going to need to practice fighting,” Virgil pointed out. “Jack we could leave the Tavern to MannaM and head to a low level area to grind and figure it out.”

Jack gave a nod of thought, “We certainly could.”

“Have any of you figured out how to use the skills?” kittycats=patt asked. “I can use the easy ones but I can’t do any combinations.”

“I can,” Remus tossed in. “You just gotta move and it kind of happens.”

“I’ll need you to be a bit more descriptive,” Logan frowned.

Remus gave a shrug and pulled at the mustache on her face. “They just happened. Like muscle memory or something.”

“Hm, then training will need to proceed. Perhaps you can tell us what it is we will need to know about the other locations when we have?”

“No, I’ll tell you here,” Jack sighed. “I know this is the most secure spot. I can only hope your lips are sealed just as tightly.”

Virgil wanted to disapprove, but he knew Simon was right. “Well maybe first we should start with what swords you all have and then Simon and I can tell you everything we know?”

There was a pause as eyes looked round the table before Logan spoke, “I hold the Sword of Time.”

“I have the Sword of Ice and Water,” Patts announced.

“Sword of Sound,” Remus put in.

“Wind,” Roman said quickly.

“Faces,” Simon finished. “As for the others, I know that two elemental swords are still fully unknown, some rumors say they are in circulation others say they are yet to be claimed. I personally believe there’s truth to both sides. One of them, likely the Sword of Stone, is in circulation, given the Sword of Flame is pretty distinct. Someone would know if it was used. The Swords of Darkness and Light are also both unclaimed. Tony has a theory on those. And then the Sword of Stars is in circulation. Last I knew it was in the hands of a guild, so Mr. Guild Hopper might know something.”

Roman crossed his arms, “I don’t.”

Simon didn’t seem convinced but he let it slide. “Tony, your theory?”

Virgil gave a sigh, “The location of the Sword of Darkness isn’t exactly a secret. But despite that no one has been able to get it given the pitch blackness, and the boss monster. According to the lore to the game, the sword belonged to a fallen angel who tried to attack the heavens. When he lost and died the sword created the barrier to protect him. Meanwhile the Sword of Light was considered tainted and needed to be purified. But my theory is this, that given the true quest of the game is to unite all the swords, that the Sword of Light and the Sword of Flame must both be used to retrieve The Sword of Darkness.”

“I don’t understand,” Logan frowned. “I understand wanting to use the Sword of Light but why Flame? It’s said that any lights are automatically extinguished within the dark.”

“Yes, but there’s multiple reports about the boss monster inside. Some seem to think it’s the fallen angel himself revived, some say it’s a dragon, some think both. But all seem to agree that they were certainly burned inside the dark. Now perhaps the Sword of Ice and Water could put it out. But if the Sword of Flame is used it could theoretically form a protective shield of flames to absorb those thrown at us. Or something to that effect.”

Logan paused and Virgil could see the wheels turning behind those glasses, the Tactician's mind working. “Then after training we’d need to go after the remaining sphinxes and gain clues about the Swords of Stars, Light, along the way.”

“I can continue to check in with my network,” Simon promised. “But we need to be careful about people knowing we’re going after the swords.”

Virgil gave a nod before a thought occurred to him, “Eric please do not tell R3M333. He’s not subtle.”

“He’s not that bad. He’s good at collecting information, just not keeping it...”

“Please Eric.”

“Fine.”

“Real quickly,” Roman put in. “What should I call you? Because you’re not-NPC has called you like ten different names.”

Eric blinked as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him, “Tony is a bit of a nerd. See my screen name is lordofthelies. But he read it first as lord of the flies, and ever since he calls me by the name of different characters from the book. But you guys can call me whatever, Lies, Lord, or-”

“Sexy?” Remus asked.

Eric gave an awkward smile, “I was going to say my middle name is Dante. You can me that or Dee. Trapped in a game or not, I rather not give you my first name.”

“Pleasure to meet you Dee!” kittycats=patt smiled. “I’m Patton! Call me that or Patt! But before we leave, can I buy some armor off of you too? As much as I love this outfit it’s not good for defense.”

Virgil paused looking over Patt’s oversized skirt and heels silently wondering how she had managed to make it to the Tavern in the first place. “Yeah feel free to look around my shop.”

~~~~

“You think this is all a terrible idea don’t you?”

Virgil looked up from where he was sitting on Dee’s bed and gave a slight nod, “I don’t trust them. And yet we just told them everything, Dee.”

“Not everything.”

“Oh?”

Dee raised an eyebrow as he sat beside Virgil on the bed, “I know you lied about your theory. That’s not it at all.”

Virgil gave a shrug, “You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do. I may not have heard your theory before but I know that’s not it. I just know you’re a good liar. But I also won’t ask you to tell me what it is.”

Virgil looked into his eyes- those actual eyes. The way Dee has designed the character before he had earned his legendary sword. “Then what are you asking of me?”

“I ask that you don’t trust anyone.”

“I take it that includes you?”

“I’m number one on that list.”

Virgil gave a yawn as he laid back on the bed, “Then make sure I’m number one in yours.”

~~~~

Level One - Level Two - Level Three

#virgil sanders #janus sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #video games #videogame au #sao au #anxceit will come #so will logince and intrulogical #idk how to tag this ill figure it out #the bois get swords i dont make the rules

15 notes · View notes