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profoundtyrantharmony · 3 years ago

Text

Title : Defending Honor

Pairing : Poly!Avengers x Reader

Words : 8130

Warning : Smut (check the kinks) and Fluff

Notes : As usual Endgame happened without forever departure. None on the movie couples exist in this fic. F/B means famous backery.

Plot : Request from @im-a-satanic-ritual : Can I ask for No. 19 that leads to 26 on your prompt list? And can I ask for No. 9, 13, 14, 22 and 30 or 29 on your kink list? For female!reader x all Avengers? I love your writing so much and anything will be amazing but I love good background to go with smut so if you could make this as long as you can? Thank you, I hope you have an awesome day!

Tag : @im-a-satanic-ritual

Masterlist // Request // Promptlist

Prompt scenario list :

n°19 : Reader defends character(s) from mental/verbal abuse

n°26 : Being worshipped by character(s)

Prompt kink list :

n°9 : Praise kink

n°13 : Group sex

n°14 : Dry humping

n°22 : Outdoor sex

n°29 : Cock warming

n°30 : Double Penetration

Working for Pepper Potts as her personal assistant as its perks. I have the pleasure of working with one of the most impressive and hardworking woman from this century, as well as meeting the Avengers on an almost daily basis -as an assistant I’m sometimes, let’s say often, needed to help them with paperwork and planning meeting and stuff- it’s a hard work but I won’t change it for anything. Each morning I wake up from my bed happy to go to work, even on harder day -when there is a mission meeting for instance- I’m glad to be of any help.

That’s because of those friendship that I’m here right now, early in the morning, outside my room -as Pepper’s assistant I got to have a staff member’s appartment in an other wing of the compound- wearing a deep blue sport bra and dark short just to run and do some training with none other than the one and only Bucky Barnes ! Don’t get me wrong I love that guy and all, he’s sweet and funny a bit on the grumbly side sometimes but it’s part of his charm. The problem is that we don’t have the same stamina or even the same training routine.

Working alongside the Avengers allows me to be on first name basis with all of them. I developped some sort of friendship with them over the course of the year I’ve been employed. First it was Thor with his overly warming attitude quickly followed by Wanda with whom I might share a hobby for cooking. Then I befriended Tony and Bruce as I was the one bringing them food and drinks because they both forget it when they’re to engrossed in their work. The next ones to fall for my friendlyness are Steve Bucky and Sam during my training -even if I’m not an Avengers I do a bit of workout to stay in shape-, the two spies Nat and Clint are close behind, my supposedly dorky and blunt attitude got me in their good grace. Finally I got to call Loki my friend, I didn’t think it would happen though, but we both love sitting in silence while reading a good literature book so it made our friendship obvious.

“Man why are you asking me to train with you ? Why not Steve or even Sam ?!” I ask him already tired in advance.

“Steve went on a mission early this morning and I don’t want to work out with birdbrain.” Answers Bucky calmly.

“I swear to god the both of you are like a married couple that can’t stand the sight of the other !” I laugh.

“Stop laughing at me and focus on the training, today we’re going to run to improve your stamina so get ready !”

Running is not my favorite thing to do I admit but with him it’s always relaxing, he even slow his own pace so I don’t feel like a failure, such a gentleman and a real pedagogue, he instantly understand how my mind works and what to do to get me focus.

We start from the compound and he then lead the way through small streets that few people use, until we arrive to bigger one. He keeps me focus, my mind goes everywhere, what am I gonna eat tonight, is it gonna be a hard day or not... I don’t see the time passe, I don’t get overly tired -which I’m proud of-, my training must have work then !

Almost an hour and a half later, we finish our run and start to walk back to the compound, we’re both sweaty so Bucky decide to take off his sweatshirt to only stay in his tank top, his metal arm visible for everyone. It’s not a problem, nor for me nor for the other Avengers...but for the public’s eyes apparently it still a bit early...or too much I don’t know. He contributes to protect and save their lives but he’s still treated as a villain, a monster devoid of a soul. I will never understand that, I will never tolerate that !

“Have you seen his arm ? And those scars ?! This is hideous !!” A mid-thirties woman whispers to her husband not knowing that she is not that discret.

“Don’t tell me about it, I don't even understand why he’s still walking free after all the wrong he did ! Guess being friend with mister Captain America can get you out of jail.” The man answers his wife with such venom in his words that I can see from the corner of my eyes Bucky bowing his head in shame and disconfort. How dare they !!

“Will you just fuck the shut up ?!!!” I don’t scream nor yell. I speak calmly, sternly with an expression that doesn’t allowed contradiction.

“Who the hell you think you are bitch ?!” Yell the woman.

“I’m the one that’s gonna make you stop pestering someone that’s never done anything wrong in his life. The wrong things you were talking about sir, it wasn’t him but the Winter Soldier ! I suggest you go do some research before speaking nonsense, right now it makes you seem like an idiot, in front of your wife what a shame for a man like you ! I stare at him in the eyes, a smirk slowly appearing on my face. As for you mam, haven’t you learn to never judge someone based on his appearance ? No ? How would you react if I do the same ? You know when we put that much make-up on our face it’s because what’s underneath is not really attractive, I mean are you deformed or what ?”

“Shut up bitch !” She yells hysterically.

“Wow ! So much repartee, I’m impressed really ! I look at Bucky who seems shocked by what hapened in front of him. I think it’s time to bid our goodbye is it Bucky ?”

“Ahem, yes it is !”

“Right let’s go then ! Oh wait, bit of advice...when you use face powder or else, don’t forget the hands and ears, or at least choose the right shade please !!” After that we all part ways hearing the woman screaming her lungs out at my insults.

Walking back in my personnal quarter, I have to go through a corridor with many meeting rooms. I check my phone to see if I have a text from Pepper telling what are going to be my tasks of the day but for now I have none, no news at all... she must be in a business meeting or doing important paperwork because usually, at this time of the day -it is now 8:30 am- I already know how my day will be filled with.

Bucky is impressed and also flattered that I would go out of my way to defend his honor this way. He didn’t think I would do that for him, he doesn’t know how to properly thank me instead of the usual words ‘thank you’. We both goes to different direction when arrive to the compound, he has to go trained the new agents and I have to go take a shower before going to work.

Crossing path with some agents, I come close to the biggest meeting room -the one for biggest reunion like the Sokovia Accords, Thanos’s snap, Tony’s snap and things like that- I’m still a bit far from it but I can hear some voices, one of them being the one and only Steve Rogers. I love him, like a lot, he’s so well mannered, so optimistic, so into people... It’s really different from the mentality of our time that it makes him adorable in a way..

Naively I thought it was someone praising him for his good deeds and the ones from the team, thanking him and them for always protecting the civilians risking their own life in the process. Such naivety !

“We need to create places where we can run tests on each individuals to determine if they are in fact with powers or not.” An elder man, almost bald, with a mustache and a bit on the chubbier side says calmly looking at Steve.

“With all due respect Senator, but you can’t force civilian or any human being to be tested to see if they have power or not ! I mean if they have power what would happen to them ?!”

“They would be taken to a hidden facility in order the see if they can be of any use of course.” He says this as if it was the most obvious thing.

“What if they’re not ?!” Asks Steve starting to get irritated.

“They’ll be gone.”

“Gone ?”

“In a blink of an eyes, just a press of a finger, just a shot and it’s done !” He sniggers.

“You can’t do that, they’re human being !”

“Listen up boy, we’re not in the 40′s anymore, we can’t expect to be saved only by the grace of the all mighty Captain America ! The world is ruthless, so we must need to be even more ruthless ! You don’t like it ?! I don’t care, as long as the majority of the people lives I’m ready to sacrifice a handful of them with no remorse ! You’re still this pathetic little boy unable to fight unless given some sort of drugs, you must grow boy, you’ll be the one leading them to the testing field, who can say no to you ?” Steve isn’t feeling that well I can see it in his eyes and in his general attitude, this man exudes negativity from each of his pores.

“You won’t !”

“I beg you pardon ?”

“You won’t do any of this !”

“What makes you say that ?”

“If you want this to be legal, you’ll have to present this ‘law’ to the Senat and it has to be voted by the majority -which will never happen-, no one with a mind of their own will let those kind of prospect see the light of day. It would imply that they themselves as well as their family will be put to the test ! It’s stupid, you all would find a way to be exempted from it -which is illegal-, and can be considered a trahison from the people toward the government itself, which will lead to your immediate expulsion from the Senat !”

“To prove this, you’ll need proof young Lady !”

“Lucky me we’re in the Avengers compound, owned by Tony Stark, and supervised by Friday his A.I which can hear and see everything and record it ! Those will be proof enough.”

“Are you theatening me ?!”

“Threatening is when you don’t or can’t act on it ! Personally I can and I will, the door is this way, you may take your leave now !”

I just get out of my well deserve shower when I hear my phone ping with a text notification. Pepper needs me in the lab, apparently Tony and Bruce are gonna be interviewed but the journalist has a reputation of puting his guest on the spotlight with all their past misdeeds or even with questions uncalled for. Not to be mean but this woman looks like a bimbo showing her assets around as if it’s gonna get her all the answers she wants. I mean what the hell girl ! Whatever, as I’m not affraid to speak my mind and that I’m no one in the public sphere so to speak, I’m basically their bodyguard without them knowing.

Once the senator is gone -furious and mumbling incoherent sentences- Steve come next to me to thank me, flabergasted by what he has been the witness of.

When I arrive the interview has already begun, I can see the both of them ill at ease. Crossed arms, furrowed brows, no need to be a telepathe to know they don’t like where this is going.

“What would you say to the people who lost someone because of you !?” Asks the journalist tactless.

“First of that we’re really sorry for your loss.” Answers Tony.

“And that we didn’t mean for this to happen, in any way, we all sympathise with you all and try to do better.” Adds Bruce.

“Wow you look like a great couple finishing the sentence of the other. She chuckles. Must be hard to be like you !”

“What do you mean ?” Asks Bruce.

“I mean even if we’re in 2022, being gay is never easy, you haven’t done your coming out yet, and being a public figure must be even more difficult for you. At least you can count on each other during bad days am I right ?” She stares at them with fake friendship it’s disgusting to see this.

“Sorry Miss but we’re not gay !” Says Tony.

“No big deal guys, you like cocks that’s all, I’m sure the people will understand.” She really is going to show that crap interview on TV, how dare she !!

“I like cocks too !” Pepper as well as the other are now looking at me shocke written on their faces. I mean it’s not like it’s in my nature to shut up when people I care about are being so brutaly mistreated !

“What did you just say ?”

“I likes cocks too, vaginas as well of course, but cocks... I could live with cocks all day long, I’m sure you’re the same. I come to sit right next to her the camera now filming me. One in each hands, one in my pussy an other in the ass or my pussy again...I let a bit of silence to gain more confusion from them as well as much more disconfort. Maybe a last one in my mouth though sucking and licking an engorged clit is like heaven on earth am I right !?” I glare at her with a mix of disdain, fake smile, and mockery.

“Y-You’re crazy ! You are ruining my interview !”

“I’m sorry I thought we were here to discuss personnal affair...do you mean you don’t want to hear about that time I almost lost my virginity to a giantess and her Goliath dildo ?! You should it’s a great story full of tolerance !”

She’s fuming now, her once pale skin is now red as a tomatoe. Pepper is smiling eyes to hears because she knew I would do something like that, now we can be sure that this interview will be deleted. Tony and Bruce, not knowing this side of me don’t know how to react properly so just smile at me in gratitude.

Finally it is lunchbreak, I’m starving to death, all this bad feeling that surround me since this morning ! It’s really bothering me and I don’t understand how they can deal with this without punching a nose or two. Anyway, I get out of Pepper’s office in order to go to eat, I think I’m gonna go with lasagna and a Paris-Brest for a dessert.

The journalist is gone and Pepper and I get back to her deskroom to work some more until lunchbreak.

Walking happily toward the cafeteria I can see both Wanda and Natasha walking in the same direction as me, they seem a bit defeated, tired maybe, from a mission I suppose. It must be difficult for them, for the both of them, even more than the other guys. They are the only two women in the group and we all know what’s being said about them by the media and other ‘bloggers’. Either they are sexualised or treated like some sort of slut. This is appalling !

Waiting in line -they’re in the same one as me- I hear some male agents, older than them and appparently full on themselves, proud and narcissistic, talking to them -if we call that talking-.

“Hello girls, we heard your mission was pretty tough, too bad we weren’t there to have your back !” Says the brunet one, slighty caressing the side of Wanda’s arm.

“It’s not our first rodeo guys, we got it covered !” Replied Wanda taking her am out of him.

“That’s right but it would have been so much funnier with the both of us, we would have end the mission earlier, the blond one gets closer to Nat’s face, too close for my liking, and we could have some fun in the quinjet, you know what I mean !”

“As flattering as it is we’re not interested !” Says Natasha assertively.

“Don’t be like that, we’re nice guys !”

“Listen, we’re hungry, tired and just want to be left alone.” Whispers Wanda.

“Stop playing hard to get, you’re all the same you want attention so you wear some tight fitting clothes that show all of your assets and then you get offended when guys tries to gently flirt with you !” Angrily stated the brunet.

“If you don’t want the attention,don’t act like you’re ready to get dick down, don’t wear revealing clothes ! You know that you want us you just have to admit it.” The both of them starts to get really handsy with them both. They can’t do anything -as it has previously been said they are both tired- and no one seem to have catch up on what’s happening in front of them. People really need to be more observant of their surrounding instead of being glued to their phone. I decide to walk by them and I squeeze both of their dong through their pants. They both scream at me to let them go, that I’m hurting them. Everyone in the cafeteria knows what I’m doing but nobody comes to their rescue.

“Oh excuse me I thought it was okay to touch you without consent ! I mean... that’s what you were doing to them both right !?”

“That’s not...”

“Yeah I know what you mean, you didn’t touch their private parts like I’m doing to you right now, but it’s the same thing, touching without consent whether it’s the arm, the small of a back or genitals is not right ! If you can’t understand this simple statement, then you’re even more stupid than you look !”

“We were just being nice !”

“And they told you they were not interested, you should have stop the conversation right this moment but you continued, you put them in a situation where they couldn’t defend themselves without risking the physical integrity of others !”

“We didn’t know...”

“Then it’s time you learn ! First lesson, excuse yourselves and go eat somewhere else.”

When the both of them get out of the cafeteria, I look at the two women with a gentle smile before going back to my line. They’re surprised by my outburst not knowing this side of me.

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My belly is full when I go back to the office, Pepper is still working on some upcoming meeting when she asks me if I could retrieve a special orders for the Avengers. It’s from one the most famous backery of New-York, the backer and his employees wanted to thanks the Avengers for protecting them during a terrorist attack months prior.

“No problem, I shall finish what I started and then go, I’m gonna need to use one of the car to carry everything though.”

“Of course take your time, but call them before leaving, I’ll text you the number.”

“Ok thanks !”

I seat on my desk, working some more, planning future Stark’s party and all. It’s only one hour and a half later that I finally finish it, I call the baker to tell him I’ll be on my way. I exit the office and walk to the elevator where I see Sam waiting for it.

“Hey y/n/n ! How are you doing ?”

“Fine actually, I just finish working, now I have to go retrieve a present for you and the others !”

“Really ?! What kind of present ?”

“Cakes and pastries from f/b !”

“No way, can I come I have nothing else to do anyway ?!”

“Of course, the more the merrier.”

As I’m not alone and Sam could help me carry the cakes and pastries we both decide to go there on foot. I like Sam a lot, he’s so much fun to be around. After retrieving everything we walk back to the compound. As we’re both sharpe tongue, we make fun of each other, jockingly shoving the other. It was all fun and game until the moment he shoves me harder than intended and I trip over my feet. It could have been all, I’m not hurt, the pastries are intact...but again... Prejudices !

Two cops were patrolling down the street when they saw Sam shoving me making me almost trip. They come to us, hand on their weapons, threatening him and demanding him his ID.

“I don’t have my ID !” Says Sam a bit upset by the situation.

“Put you hands behind your head and get on your knees !”

“Are you insane ! Do you know who he is ?!”

“Please mam stay out of it ! He then stare daggers to Sam’s direction. You people are all the same, you think you can do anything without being punish. This is not your home, it’s ours ! If it was up to me I would put you all in a boat direction Africa where you belong !” All this time Sam listens to what this man throw his way without retaliating, it’s probably not his first time...

“Is it done Sir !? We have some deliveries for the Avengers, you know the protector of planet Earth, the ones that allows you to breath !”

“Yeah get going mam, wouldn’t want to make them wait !” He smiles at me oblivious.

“Aren’t there a black man on the team, not Black Panther, not James Rhodes...let me think...”

“The falcon ?” He asks.

“Yes ! The falcon, Sam Wilson, what a great man, worked in the army, helps his family, works with the Avengers and risking his life for people that doesn’t always deserve his help. You know why he does it ? Because he’s a good man contrary to you that judge a man based on his skin color. Don’t you feel ashame of yourself ?!” I speak my mind without getting angry, it’s pointless with people like him, better let them understand their own stupidity by exposing facts.

“...”

“You have nothing to say ? We have nothing to add ! Think about how you acted today and be a better person from now on.”

The walk to the compound is way more silent and less joyfull than the previous one. Sam is inside his head not talking -he thanks me of course-not making any jokes, nothing. It’s time this day comes to an end because it exhausted me beyond reason.

It is the day after all the event, I hope today will be better, I don’t want to see more bullying toward them. They’re all so nice, well-mannered, kind hearted and so much more, I can’t understand how people from different background can have the same poor education. I might not be the best to talk about this as I’m close with each of them, the fact that I’m not fangirling over them is quite resting for them. Moreover we all have this kind of flirty relationship from time to time, we never spoke about it though.

Today I start working late than usual so I decide to go for a walk in the garden near the compound. Further away I see Clint sitting alone on a bench, I decide to join him as it’s a bit unusual. I’m about to joyfully saying ‘Hi’ when I see his eyes red and puffy from crying. I come sit next to him, side hugging him to confort him a little before asking him what happened.

“Laura...my ex wife, she got sole custody of our childs !”

“I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you, I know how much you love your kids !”

“It’s not the worst part, I ask her, I beg her to let me have them during their holidays but she refuses as well as the judge !” He starts to cry fully desperate.

“Why did she do that ?! And the judge ?! You’re an Avengers not a criminal !” I’m getting madder and madder hearing this nonsense.

“Let’s just say that this judge isn’t one of our biggest fan and I should be thankful he doesn’t fill a restraining order against me ! According to him I’m too dangerous and our work puts my family in danger so this isn’t safe ! I’m not stupid I know that, that’s why we had the farm, but since the divorce it’s like Laura has forgotten all the good memories we had together as a family...”

“This is so unfair Clint, I can make some calls, preventing her from leaving the country foor instance, letting you have them during the summer holidays at least, planning when you’ll have them and when Laura would. I don’t know, trying to find a solution so that each parties are equal, what do you say ?”

“I don’t know what to say, you don’t have to...”

“I know, but I want to help you, I care about you, you know that right ?”

“You’re doing so much for all of us y/n/n...”

I give him a hug before getting up to both go to work. As soon as I’m in my office I make some phone calls to a good friend of mine working for a prestigious lawyer company. I explain him everything and he gets me in contact with one of his colleagues who is a specialist in this area. If all goes well -and it will- everything should be settle before the end of the day.

Press conference...I hate it ! All these journalists, these civilians being hypocrite, asking awful questions, having no regards for privacy and being mean for no reasons. Today the press conference will be about the Asgardian’s integration on earth with Loki and Thor as spokesmen.

I worked on this for months now, I know that some people -a lot of them- are against this integration because it would be the end of humanity, of the purity of the race... Classic arguments right -this is sarcastic obviously- ! Some people prefers if Loki wasn’t on earth -based on the 2012 incident- even if he redeemed himself with the Avengers and the population of earth. Some people are just too stubborn to understand, too intolerant or too stupid I don’t know !

I knew it would happen, I was prepared, I knew each one of the journalist, their past, their wrong deeds, if they try anything I will unleash all this knowledge and get their lives a leaving hell. As for the civilians I’ve got arguments, valid ones, with proof, and if it’s not working then...making them look stupid in front of everyone would solve this all.

“Are you ready boys !”

“Yes Lady y/n, we are.” Answers Thor.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, me in front of them ?”

“All I know is that they need to see you in an unthreatening environnment, don’t worry I’ve got your back !” The both of them genuinely smile at me.

The press conference starts, I explain to everybody why the Asgardians as to take refuge to our planet, how many people they are. It takes a good two hours to get to everything in detail for them all to understand how important this is for them and for us. Most of them are silent, agreeing with what I just said, some even smile at us, making us understand they are not resentful. Unfortunately the other part, the noisier, disagree with all of it.

“How can you ask us to let them leave on earth after all the wrong they have done ?!” Yells a man.

“He’s right, they’re not human, we don’t want them here !” Adds an other one.

“You want us to live with those monsters ! And this one here, Loki, what’s telling us he won’t be mad again and I don’t know kidnapped our children, our daughter to experiment on them, breed them to create hybrids between alien and human !” Clearly this one lady has watched too many alien movies and is into conspiracy theory. The problem is that she’s not the only one, and cruder comments starts to be added.

“She’s right you would rape our daughters, our wives, mothers and sisters if you’re not put in jail ! And you’re brother ? He won’t do anything to stop you because he’s exactly like you, adding an other girl each night to his track record ! You’re both disgusting !” I see the both of them are shocked by this much hatred especially Thor not used to be the target of such spitfull words.

“Listen all ! You’re here treating them like monsters as if you were all saints, you’re not, neither do I. You’re afraid of Loki being a rapist ? He’s not ! How do I know ? Because he really don’t need to force himself into anyone, men and women throws themselves at his feet because he’s sexy, if he wants to indulge then what’s wrong ?! If Thor as a new girl each night what’s the problem, she consents, he doesn’t force himself either ! They’re both handsome, they’re both gods and you’re just envious ! As for them being alien, not being from here, being different, what can I say, most of you have a problem with people of color -whereas there is no problem with it I don’t why humans can’t get that into their brain !- I couldn’t even imagine that you have none with outer space persons. It was logic and predictable... We’re not here to ask you, just to tell you how this is gonna be ! Be smarter, think before speaking nonsense, you have no idea how hard this is to be in the presence of narrow minded people !”

The press conference ends few minutes later, I was surprise the journalists took the defence of the Asgardians as well. I’m tired, ready to go in my room, I pat the both of them on their arms before taking my leave, leaving them thinking about what happened.

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The Avengers find themselves in the same bedroom -Tony’s for obvious reason, bigger, larger and all- as usual after a long day of work. No one knows about their true relationship, except Pepper and Rhodes even I have some doubt about it, I mean some glance and slight touches can’t be mistaken for something else. Working together, risking their life together, it creates bond between people. That’s what happened to them. They’re linked to one another, but they’re still allowed to feel attracted to someone else. But this someone must be okay with sharing and being shared between them, this is the only rule for it to work. Until now none of them felt this pulled toward someone else. The desire to have an other person enter their relationship...

“Hmmm, the way she defends us in front of all this miscreant...Loki groans as Wanda grinds herself on is lenght. So sexyyyy !! Nnngh, oooh harder soldier !”

“What do you mean ?! She defends you too ?! Asks Natasha popping out Sam’s dick from her mouth. Ahhhh yes Thor j-just right there ! Y/n helped Wanda and I getting out of this sexual harrassment situation, that was so sweet !”

“S-Say that to Bruce and I, she made our interview useless by stating so much dirty thing...Tony turns his head to harshly suck on Clin’t nipple and plays with his erect cock. Right Brucie Bear ?!” Bruce stops bobbing his head onto Tony’s to speak his mind.

“She has one of the dirtiest mouth I’ve ever seen, and not easily flustered apparently.” He then got back to work on Tony’s balls, sending goosebumps all over his flesh that makes his toes curled.

“So what do we do now ? Ask Steve slowly entering Clint’s backside. We’re all into her but how do we know that she feels the same ?” He’s peppering kisses along Clint’s column.

“I know it ! Wanda exclaims while being pinned down by Loki. I heard her thoughts, saw her fantasies... She langourously kisses Loki. There’s no doubt, she’ll accept !”

“Great news !! Moans Thor almost spilling himsef inside Natasha from hearing this. When do we start ?”

“I-I think Loki and I should start, hmmmmmm, we’re the most capable to explain to her, with our power we c-could show her, oh my god Loki dont stop please I’m so close...”

“You heard the lady Barnes, give us all you have ! Nnngh Hmmmm, Wanda’s right I’ll show y/n/n how we make this work, how we act together, Wanda will make her feel what we feel, about each other and about her !” The end of this sentence is ponctuated by the sound of their pleasure.

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The day after is a day off, most of the agents aren’t there so it’s the perfect moment to tell me the truth. Wanda and Loki are walking side by side, their hands occasionnaly brushing together. Arriving at my doorstep, Loki knock three times before I answer.

“Hi, what are you guys doing here ?” I let them in, casualy embracing them.

“We’re here to talk to you about something...” Starts Wanda.

“Revealing something is more accurate.” Continues Loki.

“About...?” I ask.

“Us, the Avengers !”

“Oh, that you’re all in some sort of secret poly relationship ? Is that it ?” They’re both stunned.

“H-How do you know ?” Enquires Loki.

“Work of deductions and being observant, don’t worry I won’t tell anything.”

“We trust you but that’s not exacty what we wanted to talk to you about.” Adds Wanda.

They both explain me what they discovered, what they think about me, what they expect, what they hope... It’s a lot I’m not gonna lie, but it’s also such a flaterring turn of event. I’ve always been attracted to them, not as heroes but as the real person. I care about them a lot, I didn’t know it would be this way though.

We starts talking together about everything and nothing. I learn a lot about them, the more we talk the more we get close to each other. The first touch is from Wanda’s hand on my thigh -we sit on my couch and I’m in the middle- Loki’s on the other. In a short time their mouth are on every inch of skin available, my neck, my cheeks, my clavicles, my nose, my forehead, my mouth. The more we kiss -because yes I reciprocate !- the more handsier we become. They both undress me slowly and intimately, I see in they gaze that they appreciate what they see.

“Beautiful !” Says Loki, praising my nakedness, playing with my breasts, making them bounce a little.

“Equisite !” Whispers Wanda, licking her lips while gently rubbing her fingers through my slit, taking extra attention to my clit.

Once they have me on my bed -on my back- Wanda quickly get on me in a 69 position in order to feast on me. The sudden pressure on my clit causing by her hard sucking had me whimpering in a matter of seconde.

“Ohhh gosh Wanda !!”

“You should taste her too Loki, her smell, her taste... it’s outherworldly ! When she speaks I couldn’t think about anything but her pussy on full display toward my face. I first take a quick lick, she tastes so good, one lick leads to another then to another and another until I’m eating her out for all her worth. I couldn’t stop, she’s addictive, like all of them I’m sure. Ahhh Ohhh !” She gasps.

“Well well well someone seem to have some fun !” Sniggered Loki palming himself through his pant.

After having me on the verge of an orgasm, Loki slowly enters me while Wanda keeps herself occupied with my breats and clit, kissing my neck tenderly.

“Oh norns you’re so tight y/n/n ! I squeeze him at his words. His thrusts intensified, his thumb comes in contact with my engorged clit, stimulating it further more. You’re doing so well beautiful ! An other squeeze. Ahhh, you like what I say ? Want some more ?” He looks at Wanda, recognition hits her. She starts caressing the side of my face, turning my head in her direction so I’m looking directly at her. She then cups my face in her hands and gives me the most loving kiss a girl could hope of receiving, all the while Loki continues to thrust inside me, ever so slowly to increase the intensity of what I feel.

“You’re doing great, taking him so great. She kisses me, pinching my nipple. You’re so beautiful like this, all spread for us to enjoy. One of my hand unconsciously comes closer and closer to her pussy, she takes it and leads it to her most private part. As I enters two of my fingers inside of her, she starts humping them, moaning in my hears, rubbing my clit. The sensations from both Loki and Wanda are to much for me, I’m spiraling, I’ve never had an orgasm that powerful.

The three of us are out of breath, kissing each other wanting this moment to last longer. We talk -still naked, in our post orgasmic bliss- we talk about us, the other, the situation and come to a conclusion... I’m not opposed to being share between them, on the contrary !

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Days and days passes since the day Wanda and Loki came into my room to discuss arrangement and having sex with me. Since that day I’m on radio silence, I know they’ve all been busy with mission and all but a little message with ‘it’s okay we told them, they’re on’ written would have been gladly appreciated.

Right now I don’t know if there will be an other time, if it was a joke or not... I try to keep myself busy with anything. It’s been three weeks, three weeks of them all being on mission and no words spoken from them to anyone... It’s my day break so I decide to pamper myself a little. What better way to do that than going to an outdoor public naked bath.

I take my car -the drive will take twenty to thirty minutes-, pay at the counter and go change into nothing but an avengers’s theme towel wrapped around me. As we’re on the week day there is not a lot of people so I can choose the bath I want to be in. I choose the furthest away to be alone, calm and relax. I enter the huge bath and close my eyes to appreciate the calmness better.

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Avengers POV

Three weeks, this mission took longer than it should have been ! The worst in this is that none of us could have contacted her. The mission came to an end and we’re now going back home with a successfull mission.

“I can’t wait to be back, I can’t wait to be back inside of her sweet tight pussy !” Slightly growled Loki already aroused by his thoughts.

“I can’t believe you got lucky to have her instead of any of us brother.”

“Worry not point break, she already told them she’s okay to be shared, you’ll have your turn.” Tony pats him on the shoulders.

“I wonder what she tastes like ?” Wonder Nat out loud.

“Sweet and feasty, like a spring breeze !” Answers Wanda day dreaming at the memory.

“Come on why torturing us !?” Whine Bucky and Sam at the same time, the both of them glaring at each other.

“It’s like you want us to be worked up during all the flight back home !” Whisper yelled Clint, his hard on painfully pressed against his pants.

“How much time before we arrived ?” Asks Steve.

“It depends. Answers Bruce. If we’re going to the compound it’ll take us almost an hour and fifteen minutes, but if we’re going where she is forty five minutes to one hour !”

Where is she ?” Asks Sam full of curiosity.

“Based on the location of her phone, in the outdoor public naked bath at approximately thirty minutes from the compound.” Says Nat.

“Well then what are we waiting for !” Joyfully screams Thor.

End of Avengers POV

Silence and calm, working with the Avengers is not an easy task and is rarely relaxing, but here and there I’m the most relax I can be. Not a sound from people chatting, not a sound beside others entering the same bath as me. They must be several, I feel the water moving around me. Suddenly I feel something -a mouth I think- attache itself on my left nipples, then an other one on my right one. My eyes open wide from fright when I see all the Avengers are here and that none other than Clint and Thor are the one wildly sucking at my tits.

“W-what are you guys doing here ?”

“We couldn’t wait more to see you beautiful.” Loki approaches and give me a peck on the lips.

“I can’t say I’m not glad to see you all in one piece...and naked on top of that !”

After that everything starts to go quick, it’s like all the pent up energy was reunited in one place to be directed into one goal, pleasing me.

Thor and Clint get me up on the edge so that Nat could swim her way toward my waiting pussy, she doesn’t give me time to adjust to the intensity before she starts to suck hungrily at my clit. Loki couldn’t -or wouldn’t- wait more, he picks me up to put me on his lap, spreading my legs, exposing me for everyone to see.

“Are you ready for me beautiful ? I nodd my head. He plungs into me to the hilt, I’m waiting for him to starts moving but he doesn’t do anything. You’ll stay still until we tell you otherwise beautiful is that okay ? He whispers in my ears which I nodd of course. Perfect, you’re perfect love !” He says kissing the side of my neck.

At this both Wanda and Nat rush themselves to my exposed pussy. Nat licking and sucking while Wanda uses her fingers inside of me in order to find my magic spot. The guys -except for Loki- are watching the scene with awe, touching themselves in rythme with my moans. Each bid of pleasure makes me squeeze Loki harder and harder each time.

“Ohhhh Ahhhhh I-I don’t know how much time I can last !”

“You’re squeezing me so good !”

“You taste amazing !”

Wanda finally finds the spot that can make me see stars bumping into it with more and more fervor until my thighs shakes from the violence of my first orgasm that triggers Loki’s.

“I-I’m so sorry...”

“You were absolutely ravishing !” States Bucky.

“Gorgeous !” Adds Steve.

“Exquisite !” Says Thor.

“Lovely.” Sighs Bruce.

“Delightful !” Comments Nat.

“Striking !” Whispers Wanda.

“Radiant !” Pronounces Sam.

“Dazzling !” Utters Tony.

“Enchanting !” Declares Clint.

“Perfect !” Announces Loki.

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The atmosphere becomes suddenly incredibly hot. Hornyness exudes from everyone, nothing is planned, it’s pure instinct.

Bucky comes out of the water first taking my hand in his big ones. He gets himself on his back while I slowly impaled myself on his thick, veiny cock. I’m so tight it makes Bucky shudders. He gives me time to adjust to his size, before I can starts moving Natasha joins the both of us, I thought she will go with an other guy or so but instead she comes to sit on Bucky’s face -what a lucky guy- while desperately kissing me. Our kiss becomes more heated, her tongue sightly forces my mouth to open to grant her access. Each thrusts of Bucky’s hips, each kiss of Natasha make me go almost mad from pleasure. I need more but I don’t now how to tell them. The sight of Natasha squirming from the pleasure given by Bucky eating her out is incredible, her bouncy tits just in front of me that I could just eat them both.

“ Ooooh y/n/n !!” Whipers Nat as I lean down to catch her nipples in my mouth.

“I need more...” I whisper to anyone who wants to hear.

Suddenly I feel something entering me from behind, slowly, delicately as to not hurt me -fortunately I’m incredibly aroused and well lubricated-. I turn my head to see who it is, only to see the face of Thor, eyes close, lost in his pleasure, a moan escaping his mouth.

“Brother you were right, she’s perfect !” Each words ponctuated by a vigourous thrust of his.

Sam and Steve can’t stand the sight of their friend receiving pleasure from me -and also giving pleasure to me-, their jealousy hit its peak when I loudly express the pleasure they made me feel. The both of them get out of the water and come to each side of me, errect cocks demanding some love. I take them in each hand, starting to go slow but firm. I’m building a pace that’s increasing the more pleasure I feel. I got them both a moaning mess in no time, Natasha occasionnaly helps by playing with their balls.

“Nngh, you have magic in your hands y/n/n !” Whispers yelled Sam.

“It’s like you’re born for this sweetheart !” Adds Steve panting loudly.

Loki and Wanda watch you and the other together, playing and touching each other. Having had the pleasure of my company they decided -with the other- to let them have a go with me while they’ll just stay together and watch.

“What about you guys ? Don’t want to play with us ?” Natasha and I ask the remaining guys Bruce Tony and Clint. They quickly get out of the water offering for me and Nat to suck their cock. We can’t give them all we have due to the many dicks here, but we take our time licking their slit, kissing their veins and sucking their head. The three of them swap places between being suck by me, by Nat or entering inside Nat’s sweet pussy as we both suck the others two, occasionnaly making out together.

We’re all a mess of limbs, sweat, tears and cums. We’re so loud that I’m pretty sure I saw people escape the baths near ours because of our sexual activities. I don’t care to be honest, I’ll do a press conference or I’ll tell Pepper to do so...Maybe no one will know if those people shut their mouths. Who would believe them ? Who would believe that the Avengers f*cks together in a public outdoor space ? I take a guess and say no one.

From this day, I’m officially a part of their polyamorous relationship. We have plenty of sex, but not all together -it happens only after their return from a tough mission where they need to feel loved and anchored- most of the time it’s with one or two of them, it doesn’t mean the others can’t watch -Lord knows that some of them are really into voyeurism-, all in all we’re happy and sexually beaming.

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This is the end of this fic, hope you enjoyed reading it, if you want to be tagged let me know in the comments, if you want to request check the link here or all above.

Like, Comment and Reblog are highly appreciated.

English is not my mother tongue.

#poly avengers x reader #tony stark x reader #bruce banner x reader #clint barton x reader #natasha x reader #thor x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky x reader #sam x reader #wanda x reader #loki x reader #fluff #smut #avengers x reader #avengers smut

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dizzymuses · 2 years ago

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mookda narinrak. cis woman. she/her. ━━ there goes kannika “kai” everett leaving their home in seagate district. the twenty-five year old from new york city, ny works as a motorcycle racer. i’ve heard that they are assertive & dauntless but can also be impetuous & abrasive. they remind me of screeching tires at a sudden halt, a daring smirk painted onto a doll-like face.

hey there, beautiful ! flirting already, so u give me all the juicy plots. i'm daisy, 25 and i go by she/her pronouns. i'm also from cet but usualy quite nocturnal so the hours i'm around are somewhat unpredictable. gotta keep them on their toes. this is kai, she is.... a wild ride (pun intended). honestly, she got created bc i just really wanted a motorcycle racer muse and it didn't get less wild afterwards, so now here we are. i also hardly ever got time to write her frfr sooo, hopefully she will finally have her time to shine here.

basics.

name: kannika “kai” everett.

nicknames: usually goes by kai, family calls her nika.

gender: cis woman.

pronouns: she/her.

age: 25.

date of birth: april 7th 1997.

place of birth: westport, ct

nationality: american

ethnicity: thai.

education: high school degree.

occupation: motorcycle racer.

orientation: bisexual, biromantic.

biography. (-ish?)

kannika was born some 24 years ago in westport, ct, a couple of minutes drive outside of new york city. the only daughter to a bigtime real estate investor and a former miss thailand she was born into money, more money than any single family propbably should have amassed. her mother had always hoped to become a model after her pageant win, her hopes and dreams carrying her all the way to the us but not much further than that. instead she became the trophy wife of one kory everett, heir to the everett group which his family had been building ever since his grandparents arrived in the us. it would be a lie to say that their relationship ever amounted to much beyond a pretty picture, there was never much love lost between them. soon, however, they welcomed their daughter kannika into their lives.

her early childhood kai spent mostly in the company of her grandmother, who had retired earlier and given the post of ceo to her father, and nannies that had been employed to look after her. her father was basically always working, she hardly ever saw him during those years and her mother had never envisioned herself as a housewife and mother so more often than not nyc’s busy social life was calling her outside. still, kai was loved, especially by her grandmother who did most of the work in raising her. she was a strict woman, one who didn’t express her love through hugs and kisses but rather through making her food and admonishing kai whenever she made trouble. her grandmother, even to this day, is the only person kai is even willing to attempt to please, forever grateful to have at least one parental figure who seemed to genuinely care for her.

by the time kai was nine, her parents finally divorced. this came after many months of cruel worlds thrown at one another and many disputes as to how wealth would be distributed between these two. no, it wasn’t pretty and kai tried to be at home as little as possible, preferring to flee to her friends’ houses or stay with her grandmother. once the divorce was finally through, kai spent a year traveling with her mother, having begged and begged to go with her. at this point, staying all along with her father, a man she barely knew and yet didn’t particularly like seemed worse for her than traveling the world with her mother. it only lasted for that long though, since her father then demanded for her to return claiming that the many changes of location would be too unstable an environment for a kid to grow up in. so she returned, half mad and half glad to be with her grandmother again. when she returned she also found her father had remarried to a woman called ilona, yet another pretty face, yet another beauty queen.

ever since that her relationship with both of her parents has become even more difficult. her mother has been barely present in her life, traveling the world, kai often not even knowing where she is at the moment. her father on the other hand drastically started pushing his expectations onto his only daughter and therefore default heir. it were expectations kai could never meet of educational successes and good behavior. she had never had the focus or smarts required to do well in school nor the will to bend herself to the requirements of others. her desires had always been of the more hedonistic nature and so there was always tension between kory and his stubborn daughter.

kai barely managed to graduate high school, her grades looking rather grim but it wasn’t like she was looking forward to joining college or anything like that. sitting around and being taught just wasn’t right for her. instead, she had only one goal. making her hobby of motorbike racing into a genuine occupation, something that her family would have never supported. still, she fought for her dream, leaving westport and starting to pursue her career. while her father didn’t agree in the slightest, it wasn’t like he could very well disinherit the only heir he had. giving the company to somebody who wasn’t a direct descendent had never been considered an option in the everett family. until today this has been working out about as well as it could but the pressure for her to return and finally start learning how to run the business is growing. if it were only for her father’s sake kai would have long since told him to fuck off but she truly doesn’t want to disappoint her grandmother and so she has simply been pushing it off. now, it seems increasingly difficult to continue doing so and soon she will have to come up with a new plan. she has been living in mellott beach for one and a half year now, which is quite considerable for her.

tl;dr: chaotic hot motorcycle-racer

headcanons.

kannika is the name given to her by her grandmother. the whole family took on an english surname when her great-grandparents immigrated to the U.S., in order to avoid prejudice and xenophobia, but her grandmother still wanted kai to have some ties to their thai heritage. she usually gets called nika by her family and some childhood friends but otherwise goes by kai, which she personally does prefer. it’s sounds cool, despite her grandmother laughing at her so bad when she told her for the first time bc kai means chicken in thai. rip, homegirl rlly should have learned thai better ig.

about this... she actually only speaks very broken thai, which her grandma isn’t happy with but it wasn’t really spoken between her parents and her, so she never learned it well enough to have full conversations. she has also only been in thailand a handful of times, they don’t have any close ties to family over there.

kai has always been a bit of a troublemaker. her grandmother tried her very best to make kai a well behaved child and it worked decently well as long as she was around but without grandma to have an eye on her kai did pretty much whatever she wanted. she solved conflicts with fists, giving an innocent smile and big eyes whenever she got caught. even though she was never one of the brightest, she was certainly one of the boldest, never scared to let everybody know exactly what she thought about them or to convince them to join her in her .... questionable ideas. mischievous little mf basically.

takes care of street cats if she sees them around. she also gives them names. never thought about having a cat of her own but she likes strays.

part of the reason why she was never good at school and is so impulsive or even erratic is because kai has been struggling with adhd for the most part of her life. she got the diagnosis for this very late though, in early adulthood.

honestly very incapable of keeping relationships alive. not only of the romantic nature but also that. she doesn’t trust easily because her trust has been broken before but she also doesn’t like to compromise and can be a little too mindless of other people’s feelings. also if she doesn’t see people regularly she tends to just sort of, forget about them. no object permanence even in relation to people.

has lately started making a decent amount of money from social media, her following slowly growing to a degree that makes her interesting for sponsors. u will find her @vroomvroom, where she mostly shows of her bikes, outfits and dry sense of humor.

connections.

okay this will be rough but here are some... ideas.

childhood friends — maybe your muse also grew up in the nyc, new york state region ? maybe they met during summer in the hamptons ? something like that would def be a possibility. maybe your muse got roped into kai’s dumb ideas and they’ve been through some adventures together, maybe they were more of a reluctant participant. this could also be somebody she got even connected to the summer house thing through. they could still be sort of besties now or maybe they drifted apart a bit and one of them just reached out recently?

childhood enemies — this would basically be the same thing only they didn’t get along at all. maybe kai bullied your muse a little, maybe your muse wasn’t one to get stepped on either and so it was more of a mutual dislike. we can plot more on this for sure.

connections, connections — so our muses were never really friends but they were always supposed to be. for business reasons. these two spent quite a lot of long golfing sessions snarking at one another or suffering together in silence. kai’s father would never stop telling her how your muse was going to be such a useful friend at some point later and it’s to be expected that maybe their parents did the same. ( 0 / 1 )

only ever call you when i’m high — i am thinking these two kind of only get fucked up together, they hardly ever met outside of partying but whenever they went out they did so together, getting into a lot of trouble and being in love for each of these nights only to seperate without as much as a word in the morning. the kind of relationship that really only existed in this very particular frame. it was messy and sort of beautiful. i could imagine maybe one of them just left at some point and they kind of lost contact but we can plot particulars. ( 0 / 1 )

misc. — fwb, i follow u on insta cause u hot (either way), haha i swear you look just like my ex, somebody who tries to get close w her bc of business, somebody who like rlly rlly wants to ride her bike ( she’d never tbh ),

okay, that's all i got for u today. love u all, let's plot! <;33

#✴ ⋰ 𝑲𝑨𝑵𝑵𝑰𝑲𝑨 𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑻𝑻 ↠ ⌜ about. ⌟

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looooooooomis · 4 years ago

Text

F I N A L G I R L | T H R E E

You were his final girl. And there was no chance in hell that anyone or anything was going to mess that up.

p a r t t h r e e | j e a l o u s y

masterlist here

pairing: Billy Loomis x f!reader word count: 4.3k warnings: angst tbh. and not the healthiest relationship but ya know what it’s billy so we persevere, unwanted advances, more angst x

I had a request for a jealous billy, so I hope you like my take on it x

That was the third time in the last thirty minutes that Steve Shit-For-Brains Orth touched you. Three fucking times. The first two times he was willing to look past but the third? Fuck no. The asshole, who was sitting with his clunky arm on the back of your chair, had not-so-casually rubbed his thumb along your spine, inciting a rather surprised look from you and a rather murderous one from Billy.

Of course, Steve couldn’t see the rage practically oozing from Billy, but boy was it there. Especially when you went out of your way to lean further into your desk as though to avoid his grabby little hands.

But that didn’t stop Steve.

Billy could see the frustration on your face as you fought to keep your cool in front of your classmates as his hand dipped beneath the desk to give your thigh a firm squeeze.

The same thighs that Billy’s face had been buried in just this morning.

All Billy saw was red as you pushed Steve’s hand away, muttering something to him under your breath before raising your hand to excuse yourself. With an anger so palpable radiating from his every pore, Billy watched you leave the classroom and thought of the various ways he could kill that fucker before you returned.

“Billy,” the girl, Sam, he’d been paired up with groused, “are you even paying attention?”

“No,” he simply said, barely hearing her above the sound of his own blood coursing to his ears. “Sorry.”

He wasn’t sorry, of course, only irate. The vein in his neck pulsed against his skin as his blood pressure skyrocketed. This was the type of thing that drove him to the brink of insanity when it came to having to keep the two of you a secret for the sake of his plan. It was bad enough that he couldn’t parade you around like he wanted to, even worse that he knew, deep down, that your little arrangement hurt you beyond belief – but this? Watching you get pawed by these dickheads all the while he was forced to take a backseat?

He couldn’t stomach it.

His knuckles were white from the grip he had on his pencil but even as he felt it splinter off into his palm, his grip never waned. Not for a second. It was either that or kill Steve Orth and, while that sounded great, he couldn’t. Not yet, at least.

Just as the pressure of the pencil in his hand got to be too much, you waltzed back into the room with your head held high, seemingly unfazed by the naked eye – but Billy saw right through it. He knew you, more than either of you would like to admit, and he could see the irritation as clear as day in those gorgeous eyes of yours as Steve smirked playfully up at you from where he sat.

Subtly, you gave Billy a gentle nod, silently talking him down from doing anything stupid in the middle of the classroom, before taking your seat yet again.

Thankfully, Steve managed to keep his hands off of you for the remainder of the class but, unbeknownst to both you and Steve, that assholes fate had been sealed. Billy might not have been able to do anything to him yet, but he would. And he was going to enjoy every second of it.

The bell eventually rang out and Billy, wasting no time at all, pushed himself off of his desk and walked up beside you. “You okay?” He asked, but his eyes were trained on Steve who was much too busy high-fiving one of his friends to notice Billy’s murderous stare.

“I’m fine, Billy,” you laughed, “he’s an idiot, but he’s a harmless idiot.”

“Harmless?” Billy’s voice was low and impressively tame considering the fact that beneath it all, his blood was boiling. “He has no right to touch you.”

Glancing over your shoulder you smiled at one of the other cheerleaders before looking back at Billy. “I appreciate the concern, Billy, but I’m fine.”

That casual tone of yours just about killed him every single time. It was a punch to the gut compared the woman he had all to himself behind closed doors. This version of you, this censored version, was just a part of the charade, he knew that much, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

The rest of your classmates slowly filtered out of the room, eventually leaving you and Billy alone as you tossed your notebook into your bag. That weighty stare of his was ever present, but you pretended not to notice in fear of someone walking in. Billy Loomis was a lot of things, but subtle, he was not.

At least where you were concerned.

“That’s bullshit,” he seethed, “someone ought to show that fucker he can’t just go around touching what isn’t his. He—”

“What isn’t his?” A bitter laugh tumbled out of your lips. “I’m not a piece of fucking meat, Billy. I’m not his, sure, but I’m not yours, either.”

You watched the muscle in Billy’s jaw clench and that vein in his neck that always seemed to swell whilst he was under pressure visibly strained and pulsed before your very eyes. “I didn’t say you were,” he muttered, “I just meant that he needs to learn some respect.”

“He does,” you agreed, “but that’s not your job to teach him.”

Leaning against the desk, he ran a hand through his hair and glowered across at you. “I could tell it bothered you, so why the hell are you defending him?”

You rolled your eyes and swung your bag over your shoulder. “I’m not defending him, Billy. Steve’s an asshole, we all know this, but I don’t want you to get in shit thinking it’s your job to defend me. I can look after myself, Billy. I promise.” With another futile glance towards the door, you reached forward and gently ran your thumbnail against his bottom lip. “Besides, you’re too cute for a fistfight.”

Upon dropping your hand back down at your side, Billy caught it and gave it a squeeze. “I can’t help it if I get heated about all these assholes. Look at you.”

“You can help it, actually,” you laughed. “Don’t engage, first off. And, secondly,” you leaned in a little closer so that your lips were dangerously close to his ear, “try to remember who it is I’m fucking at the end of the day, hmm?” You pulled away and offered him a quick wink before walking out of the classroom. “See you at lunch, Loomis.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

“All I’m saying is that if he didn’t want me giving sage advice to those renting a fucking movie, then why hire me in the first place?” Randy asked with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

You, Tatum, Sid and Randy were all outside eating at the fountain whilst waiting for the other two idiots to join. Pushing your sunglasses further up your nose you smirked across at Randy. “Randy, you told the guy not to rent the movie. Your job is to make people want to watch these movies.” You popped a carrot into your mouth. “How you’re still employed is truly a mystery.”

“That’s the thing,” he laughed, “he fired me!”

“Shocking,” Sid chuckled, “what did you say when he fired you?”

Randy stole a celery stick out of your Tupperware container and bit down. “Nothing, I kept working. Fire me? Not on my watch. No thanks.”

With a shake of your head, you stretched out your legs on the concrete slab of the fountain and found Stu bounding towards you with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Did you guys hear?” He asked, swooping down to kiss Tatum’s cheek. “Our man, Billy, snapped.”

You froze mid-bite and immediately looked at Sid who had sat up looking concerned as ever. “What?” She asked in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Billy and Steve, man,” Stu laughed and snatched a carrot stick from your stash. “The two of them got into it during one coach’s drills and Billy just,” he bawled his hand into a fist and slapped it against his other hand. A resounding smack echoed out around you. “Clobbered him, man. It was awesome!”

With your appetite long gone, you slowly swung your legs back onto the ground and pinched your brow. You were raging. Not only had the idiot ignored you by engaging with Steve, but he’d gone ahead and fought him, too.

“What?” Sidney croaked. “W-Why would he do that? He’s never been the type to just fight someone like that. Did Steve do something to provoke him?”

You chewed on your lip and stared ahead as Stu merely shrugged. “Don’t think so,” he stole another carrot and grinned at something in the distance. “Ask him yourself, here he comes.”

Your blood was boiling beneath your skin as you watched Billy casually waltz over to your group as though he wasn’t wielding one hell of a fucking bruise on his cheek, accentuated perfectly with a small, clean slice along his cheekbone that would almost surely scar. The fucking moron.

“Billy!” Sid gasped, jumping up to tend to her boyfriend’s injuries.

You, on the other hand, forever the other woman, remained dutifully planted on the edge of the fountain. Not that you would have tended to him in any way, shape, or form in that instance. In fact, you weren’t sure you could trust yourself not to add to the mess on his face.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, giving her hand a quick kiss as she gently observed his cheek. “Things just got heated on the field, is all.”

“You should see the other guy,” Stu beamed, “I hear Steve lost a tooth!”

Your anger swelled, momentarily blinding you as the rest of your friends laughed and asked for a play-by-play of events. Not quite trusting yourself, you pushed yourself up from the edge of the fountain wall and grabbed your bag. “I’ll see you guys later,” you hummed, not looking up at the bruised idiot in fear or snarling at him.

“You don’t want to stay for story time?” Stu asked, looking between you and Billy in amusement.

“Can’t.” Smacking on what you only hoped was a convincing smile, you shook your head and gestured to the school. “Forgot I had a meeting with Miss Wills about getting my biology grade up.”

Just before you turned on your heel to head back into the school, you just managed to catch Billy’s eye as he dutifully sat beside Sidney. She was leaning into him, gently prodding the scar along his cheek with a concerned frown marring her pretty face. He, on the other hand, was staring evocatively across at you with a small frown of his own.

Clearing your throat, you waved them off rather quickly before heading back inside of the school. You were too angry to care about how you felt the weight of his stare all over you before finally disappearing from sight.

»»-------------¤-------------««

You locked your bedroom door that night and closed your curtains to avoid rolling over and seeing the idiot that was currently plaguing your every thought staring back at you from the second story of your house. In fact, that was what you did for the next three nights all the while managing to avoid Billy Loomis as much as humanly possible whilst at school.

So far, he had tried on four separate occurrences to get you alone. Whether it was subtly nodding towards an empty classroom with the gang around or lingering by your desk after English in hopes of pinning you down for a chat, it was obvious that Billy was desperate to talk with you. To smooth things over. To move on from this rather ugly display of jealousy.

But you weren’t. And, honestly, you weren’t sure if you were going to be any time soon, if at all.

A small dose of jealousy was only normal every once in a while. Not healthy, by any means, but a normal part of any relationship. Only this relationship you and Billy had was anything but normal. He had a girlfriend. A lovely, kind girlfriend who would have given him the world three times over if he asked. So just how Billy was the one with the audacity to be jealous made no sense.

Whenever you thought about it, you got mad. The injustice of it all was truly something you couldn’t wrap your head around. Just how Billy Loomis, the one with a girlfriend, could get jealous of a guy you were barely even acquaintances with really threw you for a loop. And yet you, the asshole who had somehow fallen in love with him, had to quietly take a seat and watch him dote over another girl in public.

Dote over your best friend.

Oh, the irony was delicious.

Tossing the book you’d been reading aside, you let out a quiet groan and closed your eyes as you heard the familiar jiggle of your window. It, like it had been for days, was still locked, thankfully, and your curtains still drawn in fear of seeing him.

The commotion tonight, was brief. He only tried for a second or two before you heard him meander his way back down to ground level. With an annoyed sigh, you reached for your book only to stop dead in your tracks when your doorbell rang out through your whole house.

Shooting up from your bed, you immediately lunged for the door and held your ear to it as your mother quietly complained about just who it could possibly be at this hour of the night.

Please be anyone else, please be anyone else, please be—”

“Oh, Billy,” your mother gushed. She’d always liked Billy. The traitor. “It’s awful late, is everything okay?”

Furling your brow, you pressed your ear further into your door and heard Billy’s deep voice say something – something probably charming – before your mother’s voice called up to you.

“Y/N, sweetie,” she beckoned, “Billy Loomis is here.”

You opened and shut your mouth several times over as you thought of your next few words. Somehow swearing at him from where you stood didn’t seem like the best idea with your parents in the house so, instead, you opted for the next best option.

You said nothing.

Holding your breath, you stood at the head of your room in nothing more than your flannel sleep shorts and tank top while hoping beyond hope that Billy would be ushered out of your house.

“I’m afraid she might be sleeping, dear,” your mother sympathetically cooed, “was there something you needed?”

Pressing your ear tighter to the wood, you barely made out the words ‘book’ and ‘homework’ before another sympathetic cluck escaped your mom’s lips. “And it’s due tomorrow?”

Bastard.

You panicked. His ploy was obviously to come up here and search for a book that didn’t exist all the while your parents carried on with their regular scheduled programming downstairs – but your parents weren’t dumb, nor were they naïve. Surely, your mother would offer to come up and root around for whatever it was he lied and said you had before she would inevitably have to wake you up in order to deliver the goods to the lying Loomis.

Your anger pulsed as realization dawned on you.

You had to go downstairs.

“Did you say something?” You asked, feigning innocence as you pushed your door open and made your way down, barely glancing at Billy who still stood in your entryway. “What are you doing here?”

Billy licked his lips. “I, uh, wanted to swing by and pick up the book for our English assignment. I think you must have grabbed mine, too, when you were putting your stuff away.”

“Nope,” you shrugged, “I don’t have it.”

Billy awkwardly smiled across at your parents before looking back at you. “You sure?”

“Positive,” you replied coolly. “Maybe you left it at Sid’s house?”

His shoulders briefly fell at your tone and, for a split second, you felt your heart fall into your stomach. You knew you were hurting him with the callousness of your words, but you had to stick to your guns this time around for your own sanity.

“Guess I must have misplaced it,” he wryly admitted. “Sorry for the intrusion, Mrs. Y/L/N.” His eyes flickered to you. “See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

You nodded, prepared to watch him leave, but before he could get a foot out of the door, your mother stopped him.

“Wait, Billy,” she ran out of the living room and into the kitchen, leaving you and Billy alone for all of three seconds before she shuffled back in. “Here,” she held out a dish packed to the brim with Shepard’s Pie. “I know your dad’s been working a lot of late nights so dinner’s might not be the most well-balanced, but a growing boy has to eat.”

Feeding the enemy. Typical.

“Y/N made it,” she bragged, unwittingly fanning the flames of annoyance in your chest. “It’s delicious, too.”

Touched, Billy grabbed the Tupperware container from your mom before glancing at you. He knew you could cook, you’d cooked for him several times in the span of your friendship – long before the two of you began…doing whatever it was you were doing – but as he accepted the container, there was an emotion there that was much too raw and real for you to try and decompress.

You realized, slowly, that your mother’s offering of Shepard’s Pie was probably the first time a maternal figure had paid him any mind since his own mother had walked out on him all those months back.

Your stomach dropped at the thought.

“Y/N is a great cook,” he agreed. This time, his voice was much quieter. “And thank you again, Mrs. Y/L/N.”

Once again, you watched him turn on his heel to leave the house but, with that niggling feeling of guilt twisting inside of your belly, you opened your mouth before you could so much as think to stop yourself.

“I’ll walk you out,” you muttered, flashing your mother a fleeting smile. “Be right back.”

Slipping on some shoes, you ignored Billy’s obviously surprised face as he lingered in the doorway before finally looking across at him. “Let’s go.”

The night was brisk as the two of you strolled towards his car in silence. You shivered absentmindedly as your pajamas offered no real sense of protection from the chill before glancing at Billy. Naturally, his eyes were already on you.

“Do you think your mother’s watching us right now?”

“Knowing her?” You shrugged. “Probably.”

He swallowed hard. “We should talk about what happened.”

“No,” you shook your head, “I know what happened. You saw Steve touch me and got irrationally jealous over it and, rather than deal with it like a grown man, you punched him and he lost his fucking tooth.”

A flicker of anger crossed over his handsome features. “It’s not that simple, Y/N, he—”

“That is probably the only simple thing about our little situation, Billy,” you acknowledged quietly. “You got jealous and you punched a guy. Doesn’t get simpler than that.”

“He deserved it,” he argued. “He’s a moron and shouldn’t have touched you. Do you know how hard it is to see that and not defend you the way I wanted to while it was happening?”

“Defend me?” You sneered. “Or stake your claim on me? No offence, Billy, but the entire male population of our school could ask me on a date tomorrow, and you’d have no fucking say in the matter. Whether they touch me or ask me out or anything, because you and I aren’t a thing.”

Billy chewed on his bottom lip as his grip on the Tupperware tightened considerably. “Yes, we are.” His voice was eerily calm despite the panic surging through his chest. “I love you, I told you that at the cornfield and I meant it. I fucking love you, Y/N.”

“You did,” you said, “and my feelings haven’t changed but you can’t be blind to the fact that this isn’t working, Billy. You getting jealous over me getting unwanted attention from a guy all the while expecting me to sit there and watch you and Sid flaunt your shit all over town?” You could feel your eyes begin to water as your emotions got the better of you, but you wouldn’t cry in front of him. You wouldn’t dare. “I’m supposed to sit there and trust what you’re telling me. That you will break up with Sid, that you do love me, that, if things were different, it would be me you’d be with and only me. But one guy squeezes my thigh and you lose your shit? Where’s the fucking sense in that?”

“I fucked up,” Billy admitted, his bravado long gone. “I see that now, I fucked up. But --”

“But,” you scoffed. “See, there it is. An excuse. I don’t want your excuses anymore, Billy. I want you and while I thought that was enough, I’m seeing it’s not that easy anymore. Not if you get to act like this unhinged asshole whenever I get a sliver of attention.”

You watched Billy’s eyes search your face as his hands trembled. He wanted to reach out and cradle your face, you could tell that much, but – tale as old as time – with an audience, even if it was just a possibility that it was your mother, he remained still. “Don’t do this to me, Y/N,” he pleaded, his voice shaky. “Please. I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sosorry.”

“I just think we need to take some time away from each other,” you muttered. “For our own sanity.”

“No,” Billy argued, stepping towards you in desperation. “No, Y/N, I need you. Please don’t do this.”

“I think you need to either make a decision with Sid or be more open with me about what the fuck is going on inside of that head of yours. You can’t go around punching people because you get jealous, Billy. And, until you figure your shit out, I think we should stop this. Whatever this is between us.”

“It’s a relationship,” Billy’s brows furrowed in outrage. “Two people who fucking love each other is a relationship, Y/N.”

A sad smile broke out across your face as you stared up at the starry sky above you. “Two people who love each other but can’t show it. Who have to hide whenever people are around in fear or being seen as anything more than good pals.” You shook your head and met his frenzied stare. “That’s not a relationship, Billy. That’s fucked up. We’re fucked up.” You sniffed and gestured down to the Tupperware in his hands. “Enjoy your food. I’m going back inside now, and I meant what I said. We need some time apart so, please, don’t come around here anymore. At least not until…” you let the sentence hang in the air, unsure of your next few words.

“Until what?” He was clinging to your every word but there was an anger so palpable radiating off of him that made you take a small step back. “Until you decide that you don’t want me anymore? Walk away and leave me like my mother did?”

You cocked your head to the side and hoped like hell the hurt you felt at that accusation didn’t directly show on your face. “If you truly think I would do that, Billy, then we’re even more fucked up than I thought.” You sniffed and began to turn back to your house. “I have a lot of faith in you, Billy, and a whole hell of a lot of trust. It’s about time you showed me that same consideration.”

The raw emotion on his face was jarring and almost made you hang back long enough to console him like you would any other time, but you couldn’t. If he couldn’t trust you, what the hell hope did either of you have at this becoming a real thing? Walking back to your house, your heart broke and any emotion you fought so desperately to keep down began to bubble to the surface. But you wouldn’t break down though, at least not yet.

You always had your cards on the table when it came to Billy Loomis and it was about time that he started showing his, as well.

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mydisenchantedeulogy · 3 years ago

Text

Hello Sorrow [Chapter Twenty-One] Dead Center [Karl Heisenberg]

Tag list: @courtenbae @unlikelyllamanerd @mylani3110 @imtherain @wrr000 @frostbez

A sudden knock on her chamber door brought the reclusive woman out of her thoughts. Irina sat down her teacup and permitted entry to the person on the other side – most likely a maid as Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters rarely bothered her. Dinner was a few hours away, so she was curious as to what was needed of her. She hoped it was not a last-minute task as she was tired and ready for bed; it had been a long morning.

The door eased open, and a young maid walked in wearing a smile.

She was new, Irina reckoned. None of the older maids radiated such hope. Irina was envious of her. At least the said woman had a clue as to what horrors awaited her.

“Madam, Lady Dimitrescu has asked for your company in the east wing of the parlor. She asks that you make haste,” the maid explained.

Irina raised a curious brow. What did she need her for? And in such a rush. Standing with a sigh, she walked past the young woman, heading down a gold-adorned corridor towards the stairs. Since Lady Dimitrescu took her in, she was given a room and ordered not to leave it unless she was called on. Honestly, that was fine. Irina was scared of the Lady of the castle and her three daughters; they were monsters, literally.

Irina wasn’t too surprised.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

The number of maids employed under Lady D had begun to wane in the last few weeks. The first Irina noticed disappear was the woman with the bow; the note she gave her weighed heavy on her mind, but there was nothing Irina could do to save her. One by one they vanished; to where she didn’t know. But if her time with Heisenberg told her anything it was that they were already dead.

She would be too if not for her temporary usefulness. Honestly, Irina thought Miranda was just keeping her alive to study the rate of infection in her. It was only a matter of time before she became one with the Megamycete.

Sighing in woe, Irina hurried down the stairs and across the parlor. She tried hard not to think about her impending death, but from time to time the thought crossed her mind.

Stay busy. That’s all you can do, she told herself.

Standing in front of the door on the east end of the parlor, Irina took an uneasy breath and knocked before she entered. Her heart filled with hope as she noticed the Duke at his station. He was a sight for sore eyes, so much so that she ignored Lady Dimitrescu seated across from her until the said woman cleared her throat.

“Forgive my rudeness, My Lady,” Irina uttered with a bow. “I came at your call.”

“At least you have manners,” the said woman stated.

The Duke laughed.

“Irina is a breath of fresh air, is she not?”

“An acquired taste,” Lady Dimitrescu retorted.

She grinned as Irina visibly shivered. Her fear was delicious. Standing, Lady Dimitrescu averted her eyes to the portly gentleman.

“Mother Miranda insists that she attend a family meeting around dusk, so for the meantime she is yours.”

What meeting? Irina raised her brow in question.

“You are as generous as you are beautiful, My Lady. Thank you for honoring me,” the Duke retorted with a flourish of his hand.

Someone is smooth, Irina thought, grinning.

Lady Dimitrescu quickly sauntered from the room.

Once her footsteps were out of earshot, Irina sighed in relief. A weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She turned to the Duke and bowed.

“I never got to thank you for standing up for me during the trial.”

“Certainly. As I said, it’s hard to find good help around here,” the Duke replied.

He was humble.

Irina stood with a smile.

“I missed you.”

“And I too, have missed you, dear,” he retorted.

Motioning toward the seat near the typewriter, the Duke insisted that Irina sit down.

“It’s been a while. How have you been?”

Irina took the offer and sighed. Already her eyes were burning with tears. It had been forever since she had someone to talk to. But where should she start?

“I … I saw the Megamycete. Were you aware that it was down there?” She asked.

The Duke retrieved a cigar from his coat pocket and lit it with a match.

“I had my suspicions. You see, the Lords were human once. Lady Dimitrescu was a talented jazz singer of normal proportions, if you get my meaning. She was infected by a parasite called the Cadou that our own Mother Miranda created from a genus of fungus that originates here.”

So, what Heisenberg had said was true. Miranda forced the Cadou on him.

“But why? I can’t understand Miranda’s reasons for experimenting on the people here.”

“That I do not know,” the Duke answered. “People with the ability to play God seldom give up the opportunity to do so. But perhaps she has her reasons. Who am I to judge.”

Maybe she did. Irina didn’t want to think so, however.

“I … to am infected. She claims there may be a cure, but that depends on how fast the infection has spread,” Irina admitted.

The Duke hummed.

“Are you not Irina?”

The said woman raised a brow. What did he mean?

“I am me,” she answered.

“Then there is still hope for you yet,” the Duke mentioned.

Knots formed in her stomach. Was he right? Was there still hope for her? Tears blurred her vision.

“I can’t take losing it again; I’ve done horrible things to people,” Irina sobbed.

Why should she be allowed to live when Luca and the others had to die? She should never have brought him to Heisenberg; the poor man.

“Listen to me Irina,” the Duke ordered.

She gave him her full attention.

“Pull yourself together. I know that you are hurting, but until you are at death’s door, there is no excuse for quitting. You may die, but you also may not,” he explained.

Irina wanted to believe him; she did, but it was so damn hard when around every turn she was losing who she was.

“Even if I pressed forward I lost my best chance to leave. I told Heisenberg that I was done with his plans. I have no chance of escaping Miranda or this place.”

“There is a storm coming and you may want to ride it out before you make that call,” the Duke mentioned.

Did he know something? Irina raised a brow. The man knew things no one in the village should. But how?

“You are a strange man, Duke,” Irina uttered.

He laughed.

“Take my word for it. Learn to shoot and play your cards right.”

Irina shook her head in agreement. The Duke had been pushing her to learn to shoot since he gave her the gun. And though he was impartial to the misfortunes that were happening around the village, he had never led her astray. He was the only person she trusted.

“You have my word,” Irina declared.

She just needed to get her gun case from the factory; if that was at all possible given her falling out with Heisenberg.

Not to mention my mask is also broken.

“I’m a mess, aren’t I?” Irina asked, sighing.

The Duke grinned.

“A gorgeous mess.”

Irina snorted, wiping away her tears. Standing up, she walked over to the desk and looked over the knickknacks displayed to her.

“Do you happen to have more ammo for the gun you gave me?” She asked.

“There is no need to ask,” the Duke mentioned. “I will have more for you the next time I see you. On the house, of course.”

Irina was grateful. Where would she be without him?

As the sun set west of the mountains, Irina set out with Lady Dimitrescu from the castle. The air was bitter and the first sign of snow had begun to tumble down from the heavens as they trekked north to the castle gate where the old abandoned church sat.

Descending underground from the hallway, Irina followed the tall woman down into the meeting room. Miranda and two of the four Lords – Moreau and Lady Beneviento – were already inside. Irina paid them no mind as she stood beside the chair Lady Dimitrescu sat in; she was after all under her care.

Now, where was Heisenberg? It was like him to be late.

Irina got lost in her mind as she waited. She wasn’t looking forward to seeing him, given their spat and the fact it was his fault she was––

Oh, who was she kidding? He didn’t force her to open her legs. If anything Irina was more upset with herself.

Face it, girl, he didn’t have to do much to make your panties drop.

Irina rolled her eyes.

Feeling a tug on her clock, the said woman peered down and noticed Angie at the leg of the chair, staring up at her. Irina shivered in fear.

“Lady Angie, what do I owe the pleasure?” Irina asked.

“Where is your mask?” She asked.

Irina raised a brow. Why did she want to know?

“It’s broken.”

The doll laughed.

“You seem normal without it.”

Did she? Compared to the Lords, Irina was the most normal one.

“I like the sound of that,” Irina uttered.

“You’re so bizarre,” Angie retorted with a snort.

That was something coming from her.

The sound of heavy boots echoed across the room as someone descended the stairs. Irina felt the hair on her neck stand as Heisenberg sauntered into the room.

Lady Dimitrescu curled her nose in disgust.

“I thought I smelled something foul.”

“Not today Giga bitch,” Heisenberg sneered as he sat down on his pew with a grunt.

Irina widened her eyes. Was something wrong with him? He was moodier than usual.

Mother Miranda cleared her throat in annoyance.

“I have an announcement to make,” she stated.

An air of suspense-filled the room.

“I am going to leave the village soon,” Miranda declared.

Irina widened her eyes. Was she serious?

“But Mother Miranda, I don’t understand,” Lady Dimitrescu uttered.

“Have we angered you mother?” Moreau asked with a sob.

The said woman raised her hand to silence them.

“Something has come to light; something that may be of importance to me, however, I am unable to say what it is at the time because I don’t have enough information.”

“How long are you going to be gone?” Heisenberg asked.

Lady Dimitrescu gave him a heated look. But honestly, she too wanted to know.

“I don’t know yet, but not long,” Miranda answered.

Was this the storm the Duke was referring to? Irina had a feeling it wasn’t but this information certainly put the ball in her court. Her heart was pounding in anticipation.

“What are we to do mother?” Moreau asked.

Miranda averted her eyes to him.

“You are to do as you have always done until I return.”

Somehow Irina had a bad feeling about this. There was no telling what the Lords would do without her to govern them.

“Then our duties still stand?” Lady Dimitrescu asked. “Because I am low on maidens. The few my Irina has brought me are not enough to sate even one of my daughters.”

“Your fucking Irina?” Heisenberg snorted. “Last I checked she was a pet to all of us.”

Lady Dimitrescu grinned.

“Mother Miranda put her under my care. If she were exclusively yours then you’d have her tied to a bed.”

Irina felt her face heat up. Why were they putting her in the limelight?

At her side, Angie laughed.

“A love triangle; how scandalous.”

“Shut the fuck up, you little rat,” Heisenberg sneered.

Angie burst into laughter again.

“That is enough,” Miranda shouted. “She is to remain in the castle, doing the job that I gave her. Now leave my sight; all of you.”

Heisenberg stood up, walking over to Irina.

“Come and get your shit,” he barked.

Irina felt small under his gaze.

“Y-yes My Lord.”

She watched him leave in a rush and took an uneasy breath. Something bad was brewing. The Duke was right, a storm was coming. And she was caught in its path.

#karl heisenberg #resident evil #karl heisenberg x oc #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil 8

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dangerouslyallaboutdraco · 4 years ago

Text

With Me

A/n: post hogwarts, lots of muggle references, mostly fluff but sexual connotations towards the end

"You're coming out tonight, right, Y/n?" Draco asked Y/n from across the lunch table.

The six of them; Draco, Pansy, Theo, Daphne, Blaise and Y/n, were sat in one of their favourite muggle London lunch spots. It was not too far from the ministry of magic where they were all employed and they served the most delicious sandwiches.

Theo and Pansy both gave them the side-eye, the couple insinuating something to Y/n. “Yeah, sure.” It would be their usual Friday night at their local pub or maybe club, where they would mix with the muggles in an attempt to override the hatred their parents built into them.

It was the same thing every week and it was a tradition none of them ever wanted to break. Blaise would bring his wife Luna, Daphne her muggle boyfriend Jack, Theo and Pansy together always, Draco, and Y/n.

“We should go back,” Daphne mentioned, picking up her water bottle and getting up from the table.

The rest of the group followed her, getting up and making the walk back to their offices.

The rest of their days did drag on, as Friday’s usually do. Although it seemed Pansy had been busy from the look of the ‘official’ memo she sent out to the other members of the group, letting them know that instead of a pub they would be going to the theatre. It wasn’t their usual plans which excited Y/n and by the look of it, Draco sitting across the board room table from her.

When they were finally finished with work and had returned home to change into some more appropriate nightwear clothing, they met up at Blaise and Luna’s house which was well out in the country.

“Are we ready to go now?” Pansy asked, rallying the group once Daphne and Jack had finally arrived late as usual.

“I still don’t get why we’re not just going out clubbing.” Draco moaned, his green velvet suit looking very dapper.

Pansy rolled her eyes at him, they had always had a relationship of siblings and she was acting like the elder now. “Because you don’t need more numbers of girls in your phone. That’s not what phones are for.”

He huffed in return and used the floo powder to travel to London.

The city always seemed to be bustling and Y/n had to take a minute to take it all in once they got there. Draco was the only one who noticed, pulling her to get her out of the way of other pedestrians.

“Watch out, love.” He said softly, his arm still on her waist. His gentle nature was something new, only developing with the people he loved, after Hogwarts.

“Sorry.” She stuttered out, trying not to blush with him around.

He smiled his soft little smile. “Don’t apologise, you ready to go?” Draco asked, finally turning his head away from her and to the rest of their group who were walking ahead of them.

Y/n nodded and the pair continued walking behind them almost together but just far enough it could be seen as coincidental to their friends.

Once they were finally at the theare, Draco brought them all a round of drinks. His new soft nature led to him doing things like that as well; rounds of drinks, dinners, parties and fancy birthday presents.

They all drank a lot. Round after rounds as they watched the play. And like normal they had a great night.

“We’re going now, do you want to come to our and take the floor to your place?” Pansy and Theo offered Y/n, knowing she was the only woman in their group leaving alone.

Y/n was feeling rather like puking from all the alcohol now in her system and an hour ride with Pansy and Theo making out was not appealing. “No, thanks. I’m just going to take a cab home.” She told them.

“Alone? That’s not a good idea, come with us.” Pansy defended, always the good friend.

“I’ll come with you,” Draco said, suddenly next to her and wrapping his arm around her. Pansy subtly raised her eyebrows. “And then go back to my place.” He added, noticing Pansy’s expression.

Y/n shrugged, hoping the answer was good enough for Pansy and Theo to let her go without them, then she could convince Draco to let her go alone and have a peaceful taxi ride to her place.

Pansy agreed, letting them walk off to the taxi. It wasn’t hard for them to find one and Y/n got in.

“You don’t have to come with me, Dray, I can get home myself.” She told him quickly but he ignored her, getting in the car next to her. “Fine then.” She mumbled.

He rolled his eyes but smiled. “I’m not going to let you go home by yourself.”

Y/n just looked at him, with a glare before turning her attention back to the cab driver and telling him her address.

The cab ride was much shorter than the one to Pansy and Theo’s, only 10 minutes she had to sit in that cab with Draco and stare out the window.

Once they got to her apartment Draco followed her closely inside. She got to the door and unlocked it, turning back to look at Draco. “Come in.”

He obliged, walking in and taking off his coat and walking over to her wine fridge. “What are you doing?” She asked him.

He didn’t reply, he just got out some vodka he could find. “Why do you keep it in here? That’s weird.” He continued to fumble his way around her kitchen getting some glasses.

“Personal preference.” She shrugged, taking a seat on her couch.

Draco walked over, giving her a glass and sitting next to her with his own. They sat together in silence, drinking far too much vodka added on to their previous drinks.

Y/n finished the drink before Draco, putting her glass on the table before getting up to go off to her bedroom. “You can go whenever.” She told him as he looked up at her. Something came over her and she placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, something she’d only ever done once before.

She didn’t stick around to see how Draco reacted, she just sautered off. After she changed into a satin set of pjammas, she got into bed and sat up against the headboard, reading a few pages of the book she was trying to get through.

Draco peaked around the corner of her door with a slight tap on the doorframe. “What are you reading?” He asked her, walking over closer to her so he could get a look at the pages.

“Just a muggle book.” She commented, flipping him the cover to look at. He hummed in agreement and it was only then that she noticed how close he was to her, she could almost feel his breath on her neck.

He stood there for probably a few seconds too long. “I’m going to go.” He said, pulling himself away from her. It was like he was magnitised and every time he had to go it was painful.

Neither of them expected what happened next, her hand reached out to grab his. “Stay.” It was the only word he ever wanted to hear leave those soft, parted lips in such a delicate way.

He didn’t argue he just nodded and went to her ensuite to get undressed. When he came back she was still sitting in bed but it was obvious she had been watching for him to come out, her eyes darting back to the page.

“Guest room?” Draco asked, he was admiring her closed now. Taking in her cheekbones and perfect nose. She looked prettier than ever now, no makeup, no fancy dresses, she was just her.

She shook her head at his question. “Stay with me.” Those were the words he was waiting to hear. “If you don’t mind.” She quickly added, hoping that he wouldn’t.

“Not at all, my sweet girl.” ‘My’, he really said ‘my.’ Y/n was trying not to look at how beautiful Draco was, standing in front of her in just his underwear. She had seen him this intimately before, once back at Hogwarts but he was more built now. The lower amount of stress and consistent eating really looked good on him.

He could tell she was admiring him and the tension in the air was building. But he let it go as he slipped into the covers next to her. They almost couldn’t resist touching one another.

Y/n made the first move. She quickly swung her legs over his hips, so she was stradderling him. He didn’t stop her for a second, all he did was lean up and placed his hands on her cheeks before kissing her with more passion than she’d ever experienced.

She returned the heated kiss, messily smashing her lips onto his. It was the perfect mix of passionate and built-up tension they’ve had for years.

“I’ve loved you forever.” He pulled back to smile at the gorgeous woman sitting on his lap.

“Draco.” She smiled. “I’ve loved you even longer.”

He flipped her over so she was now lying down and he was on top of her. “Nuh-uh.”

She retaliated by using all her body weight to flip him back over, although she was convinced he was allowing her to because he was far physically stronger. “Yuh-huh.” She replied with a wide smile.

He repeated the same move but flipped her the opposite way, smartly pinning her hands above her head so she couldn’t move. She wiggled around a bit, playfully squirming around. “You’re a little minx, aren’t you?” He grinned as he traced his fingers down from her lips.

“Draco, do something.” She pleaded as she thrust her hips out, his finger close but just not close enough to where she really needed him.

And that was enough to get Draco to be with her.

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bookcalanthedaily · 3 years ago

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okay so what’s up with geralt and calanthe? why do i ship them, why do i love them so much, and a little bit about how i believe them to be the book example of courtly love.

okay so let me start with the fact i read the books for the first time back in 2012, no spoilers, no previous knowledge whatsoever and up until the point where calanthe’s death was announced in sword of destiny, i believed, or maybe hoped, that they would end up together.

it started during the feat in a question of price, with their obvious flirting and how geralt seemed to be mesmerized by calanthe. the way I see it, the narrator sees the world with geralt’s eyes, and the way calanthe is described is truly like nothing else. There aren’t any words that directly describe her as beautiful or sexually appealing, no description of her breasts or otherwise her body (which I feel is weird for sapkowski??) . She is described in ways that in a very unobvious way show her grace, her dignity, the aura that she has around her. but despite that there are, still, a few moments that obviously point to geralt’s attraction to calanthe;

‘But hasn't fascination with my beauty and charming personality clouded your judgement?‘ ‘So I'm honoured and proud to be sitting by Queen Calanthe of Cintra, whose beauty is surpassed only by her wisdom.’ ‘Very well,' said the witcher. 'I ask for your green sash, Calanthe. May it always remind me of the colour of the eyes of the most beautiful queen I have ever known.'

so it is obvious that the lack of more obvious descriptions of her beauty isn’t caused by her, well, not beaing beautiful, but rather because the physical aspect of her appeal is the less important one.

she not only invited geralt to her table. she sat him on her righthand side and treated him like a human being, not a mutant. she is the first character in the books to have this sentiment;

'It's true,' said Calanthe. 'Geralt, present here, is a witcher. His trade is worthy of respect and esteem. He has sacrificed himself to protect us from monsters and nightmares born in the night, those sent by powers ominous and harmful to man. He kills the horrors and monsters that await us in the forests and ravines. And those which have the audacity to enter our dwellings.'

and ever since that feast, geralt is known as the witcher whom even kings invited to their tables, just because calanthe was kind enough to do it.

after that, geralt dreams about her not once, but twice.

dream 1:

"A bower, warmth, the scent of flowers, the intense, monotonous hum of bees. He, alone, on his knees, giving a rose to a woman with mousy locks spilling from beneath a narrow, gold band. Rings set with emeralds–large, green cabochons–on the fingers taking the rose from his hand. ‘Return here,’ the woman said. ‘Return here, should you change your mind. Your destiny will be waiting.’ I shall never return here, he thought. I never… went back there. I never returned to… Whither? Mousy hair. Green eyes."

this is basically geralt reliving calanthe’s invitation for him to return to cintra, or even stay in cintra, if that was his wish. he never returned, and when he did want to return, it was too late.

dream 2:

‘There is no destiny,’ his own voice. ‘There is none. None. It does not exist. The only thing that everyone is destined for is death.’ ‘That is the truth,’ says the woman with the mousy hair and the mysterious smile. ‘That is the truth, Geralt.’ The woman is wearing a silvery suit of armour, bloody, dented and punctured by the points of pikes or halberds. Blood drips in a thin stream from the corner of her mysteriously and hideously smiling mouth. ‘You sneer at destiny,’ she says, still smiling. ‘You sneer at it, trifle with it. The sword of destiny has two blades. You are one of them. Is the second… death? But it is we who die, die because of you. Death cannot catch up with you, so it must settle for us. Death dogs your footsteps, White Wolf. But others die. Because of you. Do you remember me?’ ‘Ca… Calanthe!’ ‘You can save him,’ the voice of Eithné, from behind the curtain of smoke. ‘You can save him, Child of the Elder Blood. Before he plunges into the nothingness which he has come to love. Into the black forest which has no end.’ Eyes, as green as spring grass. A touch. Voices, crying in chorus, incomprehensibly. Faces.

to me, in this dream, calanthe is the physical embodiment of geralt’s guilt. of his belief that calanthe, pavetta and perhaps the entire cintra were hurt because he refused to face destiny. there is also the mysterious sentence from eithne;

“You can save him, Child of the Elder Blood. Before he plunges into the nothingness which he has come to love. Into the black forest which has no end.”

and while some might say that she was saying it to ciri... ciri is not present even for a moment during that sequence.

and finally, there is their farewell moment;

He looked into her glaring green eyes. She smiled. He could not decipher the smile.

There was a rosebush growing beside the summerhouse. He broke a stem and picked a flower, kneeled down, and proffered it to her, holding it in both hands, head bowed. ‘Pity I didn’t meet you earlier, White Hair,’ she murmured, taking the rose from his hands. ‘Rise.’ He stood up. ‘Should you change your mind,’ she said, lifting the rose up to her face. ‘Should you decide… Come back to Cintra. I shall be waiting. And your destiny will also be waiting. Perhaps not forever, but certainly for some time longer.’ ‘Farewell, Calanthe.’ ‘Farewell, Witcher. Look after yourself. I have… A moment ago I had a foreboding… A curious foreboding… that this is the last time I shall see you.’ ‘Farewell, O Queen.’

and to me, this is one of the most romantic scenes in the entire series. the way she brings the offered flower to her face, the words ‘pity i didn’t meet you earlier’ and how he cuts her off with a simple ‘farewell’, because thinking of what they could have been hurts too much.

and finally, his reacion to her death, where dandelion had to cut his story in half, stop mid-sentences to make sure he was fine.

in conclusion, i believe that geralt loved calanthe. perhaps she was even his first love, before he met yennefer. but he was a witcher, a mutant, and she was a queen. and he did not believe he deserved her, he did not believe he deserved being ‘saved from the darkness he has come to love’.

now, how does it tie in with the idea of courtly love?

courtly love is a highly conventionalized medieval tradition of love between a knight and a married noblewoman, first developed by the troubadours of southern France and extensively employed in European literature of the time. The love of the knight for his lady was regarded as an ennobling passion and the relationship was typically unconsummated.

and i personally believe calanthe and geralt check all of these boxes. geralt is a knight/warrior who falls in loce with a married noblewoman but that love never gets to be consummated. but, in the end, that love does ennoble him.

he goes from

'Duny,' said Geralt seriously, 'Calanthe, Pavetta. And you, righteous knight Tuirseach, future king of Cintra. In order to become a witcher, you have to be born in the shadow of destiny, and very few are born like that. That's why there are so few of us. We're growing old, dying, without anyone to pass our knowledge, our gifts, on to. We lack successors. And this world is full of Evil which waits for the day none of us are left.' 'Geralt,' whispered Calanthe.

‘I wouldn’t take the child. I couldn’t assume the responsibility. I wouldn’t agree to burden you with it. I wouldn’t want the child to tell you one day… As I’m telling you—’

and it is my belief, that her remarks, such as this;

‘I’ve pondered long over this,’ Calanthe continued, now without a smile. ‘And I’ve come to the conclusion that the selection of the children at the stage of the Choice has scant significance. What difference does it make, in the end, Geralt, which child dies or goes insane, stuffed full of narcotics? What difference does it make whose brain bursts from hallucinations, whose eyes rupture and gush forth, instead of becoming cats’ eyes? What difference does it make whether the child destiny chose or an utterly chance one dies in its own blood and puke? Answer me.’

were a part of what made him change his mind. geralt ends up, even after calanthe’s death, becoming very close to ciri, learning through her that neutrality that had been beaten into him as a young witcher in training was not the way to go. calanthe, and through calanthe also ciri, had a huge impact on geralt’s entire character

so, all in all, this is how i see it. a love, that was never meant to be. and whether you choose to see it as a platonic-friendship type of love or, like me, as romantic love - calanthe’s impact on geralt’s growth is undeniable.

#the witcher meta #rant #calanthe of cintra #geralt of rivia #geralt x calanthe #calanthe x geralt #calalt #courtly love

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devilishlly · 3 years ago

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whatever the opposite of fame-bright is

umm my take on secret evil robin <3 bc i fucking enjoy it i hope this isn't too ooc or whatever.. idk why but i kept cursing to a minimal LOL tw for murder under the cut! (its not bad but yknow)

they weren’t sure how they came into existence, but when they realized they existed, it was awful. a life where no one gave a shit about another person, save for some bread thrown their way when they finally left the little pile of scraps in the abandoned building. the other children to kept them alive till then weren't so much better, taking things from someone who had nothing, beating someone who they felt deserved it- all to gain back some control in their life. at least they were kept alive, alive with little to do but survive.

and was nice. it was nice while it lasted. soon they were old enough for responsibilities. kids with no names had to resort to things like this, and everyone decided that they were the best for this; they looked normal. not too ugly or deranged looking that would send passerbys immediately in a mood, or too pretty and beautiful so that they'd get caught and dragged away. the children brushed their hair, and told them to stand or sit a little off the corner of a nearby decrepit building and look sad, or best of all, empty. and it worked like a charm. they stood there, at the smallest and darkest hours of night, until a lady passed by and stopped to kneel in front of them. eye contact was always the most important first impression, they learned. she smiles and holds out a hand, "what are you doing out here so late?" the child takes the stone they had in their hand and throws it back, gently. the children swarm the woman, and it would have been easy for the woman to fend of a malnourished child, perhaps two. but it was a group of angry, vengeful, hungry children who needed her help in the worst of ways. so they covered their eyes, even when the others took their hands and dragged them back to their place in the abandoned warehouse. with many more times and practice, they stopped feeling bad. the child realized, they needed to live. it didn't matter how, as long as they were. soon they were old enough to go alone. "you're twelve now, you're strong enough," one of the older ones said and handed them a screwdriver, covered in enough rust and grime to immediately infect anyone with an open wound. so they nodded and went to a street like the one they lived on, on the outskirts of the city.

someone older taught them this, to aim left and up against and inside their chest, and drive the sharp thing so deep you could feel flesh squeeze around your hand. it was routine by now, as the man slumped and the child grabbed for the wallet in the man's back pocket of his jeans. tomorrow for them and everyone will pass easier now because of this choice. wiping the blood on the screwdriver on their coat, and pocketing the wallet, the child sighed. but the relief was not for long.

“this wasn’t your first kill, was it, kid?” a deep rumbling voice spoke behind them. panic permeated their senses, so they decided to cry. slowly, of course, like they had been crying this whole time, so by the time the stranger had walked around the corpse, their eyes were already teary. but the man who now squatted in front of them and the dead body shook his head. "sorry brat, but i know what i saw. you can't cry your way out of this one." the child notes that the man sounded disappointed, almost. and coupled with the look of danger the man had, they remained silent. the man takes a cigarette from his pocket. lighting the cigarette, the man takes a drag and looks down on the child once again. "name?"

they didn't know what to say, tears streaked down their face into their small, bloody hands. their voice creaked, like they hadn't ever spoke until now. "i don't have one. call me whatever you like."

"that's a big responsibility," replies the man, exhaling smoke. "you'll owe your life to me if i give you a name."

they smiled a bit. "i can tell that a life like that would be better than this."

the man nods, "you'll be able to live, not just survive- at least until you become of age. but you'll forever be in my debt, and you will forever owe me whatever i demand. is that worth it, to you?" "will i have to kill?" "it won't get that bad." "will i be able to eat?" "more than you eat now, for certain." "that's good enough for me. so then, please name me." "let me think for a moment." the man finishes his cigarette and throws it to the floor. he rises, and steps on it. "your name's robin now. let's go." he turns around and walks, not looking back.

the child gets to their feet, and runs. the man comes to a black car and gets inside of it. so robin gets into the car and they sit. they watch the city fade far away, the sky becoming progressively darker until the reach of sunlight breaks through into daybreak. just forget, robin tells themself. just forget everything in that city, and focus on living in this new town. the man, bailey, tells robin that they are lucky it is the summer and throws a bunch of books at them. robin learns to read quickly. when robin can do simple arithmetics, bailey pulls them inside his office. robin will be enrolled to school and suggests that they get better at knowing things before it starts. before robin turns to leave, they speak. "you've given me a lot, bailey." the man leans back in his chair. "are you trying to ask me for more?" they laugh, dryly. "i guess i can never hide the truth from you. i thought i would be satisfied once i lived normally, but i miss it. the thrill of the life i had before." bailey nods, "i would have figured as much. i saw you smile slightly over that dead man before i decided to get you. you enjoyed it, didn't you?"

"it was... cathartic." "you want some more catharsis, huh?" bailey sounded barely content, but most of all, knowing. robin nodded. "you can help me with some things then- who knows, it could help you know some helpful people in the future. but know that this is just extra work, it won't deduct anything off our agreed debt." robin nods, "that's fine." so then they were put to work, employed as a little assistant who helped demand money, blackmail, manipulate people who were also in debt to the man they were in debt to as well. they enjoyed it, the ability to sway emotions, to see and experience time and time again the feeling of expunging everything from someone. they had nothing, now so will you. revenge on everyone, on the world for letting them have lived the childhood they had. eventually one day, robin saw you. the look of shock and terror on your face told them bailey just imposed the debt on you- easy pickings. they swayed you with their smiles, just like the townsfolk at their lemonade stand. they made you trust them, with their respect and nicety that no one had ever shown you until now. robin knew no one made you special in their lives. you weren't special to robin either they assured themself, but it's easy to pretend when it's someone is so stupid that they'd do anything for you. everything is easier once you’ve faced worse. getting beat, getting molested, getting bullied- everything was easier than that past life of reliance on murder to survive with all those things combined. robin had a roof over their heads, robin finally had a name, and robin had someone like you under their thumb. that wasn't any problem though, robin knew it in their heart as they hugged you and saw the flush in your face when you told them you saw their note and felt the same. it was so easy. it was so fucking easy to get you to shoulder their debt, but things didn’t go as planned, somewhere along the way it stopped being pretend. the coy smiles, the worried hugs, the warmth in their chest in the moment of afterglow melded with the trueness of feeling. but it didn’t matter. things will go on as they should, things will stay the same. well... so long as you did.

#i feel insane for this #i wrote this all in 1 sitting like a madman #anyways <333333333 #degrees of lewdity bailey #dol bailey #degrees of lewdity robin #dol robin #dol headcanons #degrees of lewdity #dol

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elowenp · 4 years ago

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Dan Powell is seven years old and if he’s certain of one thing it’s that he loves stories.

Not quite the same way as Mark. Mark prefers his words drenched in the mud and grit of the reality he thinks is true.

“Doesn’t it make the stories taste bad?” Dan asks, “Doesn’t it make them grind against your teeth and cut against your tongue?”

Mark just laughs. “I can stomach it. It’s way cooler than all that unreality fluff you like.”

Dan laughs but inside he’s frowning. The stories he likes are real. It’s just that what he counts as reality and what Mark does must be very different things.

Dan likes stories about odd things. He likes stories about monsters and cults and old, old gods. He likes weird. The stories don’t have to have a hero either, Dan is perfectly happy without a happy ending, just so long as there is an ending. When Dan starts a story leaving it unfinished has never been an option. When his parents read him bedtime stories, always a chapter at a time, he picks the book up once they leave and gets through as much as possible before passing out with the book falling wide open over his face.

Dan like stories and he likes endings and he likes weird. So when he overhears some people on the subway talking about the Visser Building and the odd happenings within, he can hardly not go searching for the endings of that tale.

The next day he walks down seedier streets than any seven year old should really be walking down to get to the Visser Building. He wonders if it’s odd that he didn’t need to look at any maps before coming here. It’s probably normal, he decides, I’m just good at finding odd things.

Dan is good at finding all the stories at the school library that probably shouldn’t be available to children as young as him and no one finds that strange. This is just more of the same.

As he walks into the Visser Building an overwhelming feeling of rightness comes over Dan. This is where you’re meant to be, it whispers, stay here forever and all will be right, right, right, it sings. Dan thinks the whispers make a very good point but he has to be home for dinner otherwise his parents will worry. So he won’t stay. This time.

He walks through the corridors. Some of them feel like mazes. Some of them tilt downwards so harshly that they feel like slides. All of them are new and interesting and definitely full of stories. Dan turns on the tape recorder he stole from his Dad. Mark is always going on about how a journalist needs a good record of everything that happens and this feels like the sort of story Dan is going to need to replay to fully understand.

“This is Dan Powell recording.” he says into it, trying to sound as serious and adult as he can. There isn’t really anything else for him to say after that since all the things he’s feeling are too new and unexplainable to put words to so he just lets the tape recorder go. The whirring of it is nice background noise and Dan likes the way the machine feels in his hand. Almost as if it’s a part of his hand.

Something about that thought may be significant, but before Dan can examine it too thoroughly he’s rounding a corner and face to face with a woman about to knock on a door and holding a tape recorder just like his own.

She looks surprised to see Dan. As if Dan isn’t meant to be there. Dan thinks this is a bit unfair as the woman’s presence doesn’t sing to him like the rest of the building does so she definitely isn’t meant to be there. She looks like she’s nice though and she hasn’t shouted at Dan for trespassing yet so Dan doesn’t say that. He just stands there, listening attentively to the twin whirring of two tape recorders.

“Hello,” the woman says after a moment, cautious. “I’m Melody Pendras, do you live here?”

“No. I’m Dan Powell.” Dan holds his hand out for Melody to shake since he’s sure that’s what he’s meant to do. Melody smiles as if this is a little funny but bends down and shakes Dan’s hand seriously enough that he forgives her.

“Then why are you here?”

Dan frowns. “The same reason as you.” He gestures towards her tape recorder. “I want to know the story.”

Melody starts frowning as well. “That’s a very dangerous thing to want.” she says.

“I know. It’s okay though. Getting to the end is worth it.”

Dan feels Melody re-evaluate her opinion of him. He feels the way her eyes land on him shift until it’s a lot more like how she looks at the rest of this strange, strange building. “I think you would fit in here very well.”

Dan nods in agreement. “Thanks. You wouldn’t.”

Melody laughs lightly. “I hope you’ll forgive me for finding that to be a good thing.” Dan shrugs. It’s not a good thing. It’s not a bad thing. It just is. “I need to get back to work but it was nice to meet you, Dan.”

“It was nice to meet you too, Melody. I hope your story doesn’t end badly.”

Melody looks at Dan very oddly but before she can say anything the door she had been stood in front of swings open and she becomes too caught up in greeting the occupant to notice Dan fading back into the shadows of the Visser Building.

Dan ends up having to leave to get home for dinner before finding anything else important. Then he has a playdate with Mark the next day. Then he goes to his school’s very small creative writing club the day after that. Then there’s a disciplinary meeting between his parents and his teacher about the somewhat disturbing story he wrote and Dan gets grounded for the rest of the week.

When Dan finally gets a chance to return to the Visser Building all that’s left is rubble and the odd blood splatter and something else.

The something else is calling to him. The whirring, crackling, spinning of a tape recorder with nothing left to record is loud in his ears despite the fact he know no one else can hear it. His hands are too small and his body too weak to lift the rubble but he aches to do so.

“You lost, kid?” a voice asks from behind Dan. He turns to see a woman who definitely doesn’t care if Dan is lost or not.

“No.” Dan pauses so that he doesn’t sound too demanding or rude. Then, “Can I have the tapes?”

The woman’s eyes narrow and Dan is struck by how unlike Melody she looks. Melody had a kind face, all arranged in the most welcoming shape. The whole time this woman has been looking at Dan she’s kept her face twisted into something mildly disgusted.

“What tapes are these?”

Dan points to the rubble. “The ones in there. They have a story on them, I need to know how it ends.”

“Huh.” the woman says, looking at Dan like an artefact in a museum. “If you were a little older I would know a lot of people who would be interested in employing you.” She tilts her head to the side as if considering Dan. “Do you like cities?”

Dan hasn’t thought on it much before but the concept of living anywhere less full of stories than New York kind of makes him want to tear his skin off. “Yes.”

The woman’s eyes gleam with interest. “Do you have friends?”

Dan thinks to how Mark can make him laugh hard enough to snort milk out his nose and yesterday he fixed the plaster on Mark’s knee just right when the school nurse did it wrong. “Yes.”

The interest in the woman’s eyes dulls a little. “A pity. Still, far more useful than most people will ever be.” She reaches into a pocket and pulls out a card with the letters LMG on it and a phone number. “My name is Iris Vos. Once you’re old enough to be useful, maybe get a degree or something, call this number and tell them that I sent you.” She turns away from Dan a little. “That should give me some credit with the bastards.” she mutters to herself.

Dan looks down at the card. It’s in pristine condition, just like he supposes everything of Miss Vos’s must be. The numbers have an odd shine to them though and Dan finds himself wondering if there might be something interesting there. “Thank you for the opportunity.” he says, because he’s certain that someone said that after receiving a job offer in one of the TV shows his dad watches. Miss Vos nods so Dan guesses he probably said the right words and she walks off towards people in suits holding official looking clipboards.

Dan wants to know how this story ends. He needs to know how this story ends. The curiosity burns in his stomach like acid and fire and hatred and wonder and Dan isn’t sure how many years he can last before it finds a way to destroy him. He’s always loved endings after all, perhaps a little too much.

So Dan tucks the card very carefully into his pocket and spends a moment hoping fervently that one day he’ll be old enough to be useful.

#archive 81 #a81 #podcasts #this doesn't work with the timeline but shhhhhh #making dan Weird is honestly my favourite thing #writing

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batbetbitbotbut · 4 years ago

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Memories from the first shift at a covid vaccine centre

England, December 2020

Staff arriving so, so early -- an hour before any of us will start being paid.

Everyone is beyond friendly. I feel adopted by some of the older GPs, yet I also feel respected and valued by them. We were all here as professionals in a new environment. I, 23 and new out of uni and barely employed, am not treated as a child.

Scrub, scrub, scrub the chairs. Every single one is to be done before the first patients arrive, and will be done again and again and again.

It is in a sports hall, no windows, but the fire doors are wide open. Through that rectangle I watch the sky turn from black to grey and back again.

Write your own name label in sharpie, everyone. Doctors and assistants and admin alike. We're all equal here.

Anticipation building as the first patients arrive. Wondering if the system would work.

There is no applause for the first jab, but I had wondered if there might be.

I look after patients in their 15-minute observation after being jabbed. It's like they'd sit there forever, nothing changing, yet suddenly I realise I had an entirely different crowd than 15 minutes previously.

Scrub, scrub, scrub the chairs. Dash towards an un-sanitised one where a patient is about to sit down. Wipe it down and give a little bow. "Freshly polished, just for you."

Noise from the basketball game happening in the other half of the room. A tall patient trying to peer over the dividing net.

There's no break room and no kitchen. I don't even have a car to retreat to. Staff in my pod stand in a loose circle under a cloudy sky, swapping biscuits and stories.

The same brief conversations with dozens or hundreds of people, and I try to make it human for every single one.

I smile but they can't see me smiling. I put everything I have into showing joy and care however I can. I dance, I play, I laugh, I spin. I try.

We all try, and we succeed. An IT technician in the far corner of the room is vital to people not just paperwork. He is full of energy and jokes and Christmas cheer. His voice is unmistakable.

I meet a woman who's 100 years old, getting the vaccine with her daughter. They are very proud.

Scrub, scrub, scrub the chairs. The skin on my hands is tight and shiny. I haven't worn gloves.

Some of the patients are bored out of their minds in the observation area. Some want to chat. Some want to be left alone. My favourite times are when neighbours or family members have a reunion on the plastic folding chairs, leaning over a 2-metre gap as they have what might be their first in-person conversation in many months.

Time passes slow and quick. Twelve hours seems impossibly long but it never drags. Patients ebb and flow.

Patients read about the side-effects of vaccination. Fatigue, pain. "I have those every day," they say, "this isn't different. I'll be fine."

Many ask for stickers or lollipops, as if they are little children who have just been to the dentist. A couple ask for brandy.

Most people's phones don't have signal here, but mine does. I spend much of the day calling taxis for patients who have no means to get home. This is on my personal phone; I'm not quite sure if I'm meant to do it, but it's the best care I can give to them.

The system works. All day long, it works. People are vaccinated on time and nobody is hurt and everything goes to plan. I am in awe of the logistics and planning that went into the day.

Scrub, scrub, scrub the chairs. I use two full boxes of Clinell wipes -- 400 wipes. There are two other healthcare assistants like me and sometimes we have almost no patients to take care of and other times we are rushed off our feet.

Amazement and gratitude that my feet don't have blisters. My legs are dead. My face hurts from smiling. All day, something people said was “thank you” -- but maybe not as often as “when can I leave?”.

8pm rolls around, the end of the day, and nothing changes. There are still some patients being vaccinated, which means some people coming through 15-minute observation, which means some people I need to watch and some chairs I need to sanitise. I'm not paid to be here anymore, none of us are. People leave if they can or stay if they hope. I stay.

The patients cease and there are some doses left. We draw consent forms out of a hat to choose which staff get to be vaccinated with what remains. Today, I am unlucky.

I have worked a 13-hour day. I go home by bike and train in the dark and the rain, just like I arrived. What's different now is the hot salty tears on my face.

It's a good day. I'm spent but I made it. I want to do this job as many times as it takes, and I am glad.

#covid-19

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thetaoofzoe · 4 years ago

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Fic: Only after the heart heals so will the body 1/1

This was an Anon request! Woo Hoo! I don’t know who you are, but I hope you like it. :D

The Prompt: An injured Geralt is helped by a mysterious druidess.

Pairing: Geralt X YOU

Title: Only after the heart heals so will the body

Rating: Mature, cuddles, tender feelings, Soft, Protective Geralt,

Summary: You needed to do as much foraging (and maybe a little hunting) as you could before the winter set in. What you didn’t expect, when you stepped out of your woodland home, was a chestnut horse and half-dead silver haired rider to turn your world upside down.

Choosing to spend the remainder of your days in the peace and serenity of the forest led to a good and relatively quiet life.

Druidesses like you were few and far between. A rare breed in fact, for most had either been killed off, carried off or in the strict employ of nearby kingdoms, left to grind lifeless herbs in dark dungeons and eventually rot away.

But you were lucky to have escaped those strange fates as you had earned the respect and protection from the local villagers. Your potions and remedies had saved many lives and in turn those families, of course, wanted to keep you around. There was no use allowing harm to come to the woman in the woods when her magic was to their benefit.

You lived that way for a very long time, exchanging your talents for protection, food and gifts and all was right in your little perfect world, until one frosty morning, a man came quite literally crashing in to it.

You had just emerged from your yurt with basket in hand to continue collecting herbs and roots to store over the winter, when a rider and his horse trotted beyond the treeline and into the clearing around your front door.

Upon seeing you, his chestnut horse approached slowly, examined you with kind brown eyes and didn’t seem the least bit bothered when her rider quite literally toppled out of the mount and hit the ground in a boneless heap at your feet.

Producing a half an apple to occupy her, you came closer so that you could inspect the unconscious lump that, you later learned, was the infamous Witcher.

Geralt of Rivia.

That was three weeks ago and under your talented hands and fresh medicinal herbs and tinctures, Geralt healed quite quickly. When he was well enough to get out of bed, but not enough to travel, he became a staple in your life.

He improved your animal traps and built a smokehouse to preserve and cure your meats so that you didn't have to consume them as quickly as they were caught. On the rare occasion that he felt strong enough to saddle Roach and disappear for hours, he usually returned with supplies you needed but had only mentioned to him in passing.

You got used to Geralt being around. You liked his quiet company as you felt cozy and protected by him. However, the looming threat that he would leave one day haunted the corners of your mind. You'd have to let him go eventually and then risk never seeing him again. Sure, you'd part on amiable terms and you'd send him off with some food reserves, but that would be the end of it. You'd have to return to your quiet life without him.

It had been a long day of hard work and winter preparation and when you lost the daylight you and Geralt retired inside for dinner and rest. You left the roof flap of the yurt open to the early evening chill. Snow flurries had been swirling on the air all afternoon, but never really managed to do more than dust the ground in white. It was cold, but not cold enough to provoke a unpredictable squall that you'd have to spend days digging out of and for that you were grateful.

From your rocking chair near to the fire and cuddled beneath a handwoven blanket, you watched Geralt feed small kindling into the low fire in the centre cooking pit. The wood-smoked a little and send up curls of white clouds which drifted through the opening in the roof.

‘You don’t have to do that,’ you chided him quietly. ‘You really shouldn’t be out of bed, Geralt.’

He said nothing for a moment, then dusted his hands together and with a groan, he heaved himself up off of his knees. You watched him rise, and press a hand to his bandaged and obviously still tender ribs.

‘I think you can allow me to do this,’ said Geralt gently, turning, and doing that thing that you knew he thought was a smile, but in actuality was just a little more than a tight-lipped grimace.

With a sigh, he sat down on the edge of the bed and the wood beams creaked beneath his weight.

‘Considering,’ he finally finished as if just one additional word could explain all of his intentions and emotions.

‘Considering,’ you repeated hoping to prompt him to say more, but Geralt was finished speaking.

And when he was finished speaking, that's all you were going to get.

Comfortable silence drifted between the two of you and you watched him scratch irritably at the bandages wrapped about his midsection. Scratching was a good sign, as it meant that the wound was healing, but indiscriminate scratching could cause more damage.

‘Let me check your bandages,’ you offered and looking gratefully up at you, Geralt immediately struggled out of his black shirt and laid it aside.

You collected some fresh bandages and herbal salve from your larder and returned to his side. Leaning over him and unpinning the bandage closure, you carefully unwound the material and caught the herbal soaked pad that had been pressed against his wound. You set it and the scroll of bandages aside and indicated that he lie back.

'Looks much better,' you murmured, gingerly inspecting the slightly swollen area where his skin was busily knitting itself together.

Geralt hummed in response. Seeing a more genuine smile beginning to form on his face, you smiled as well, and rubbed the stiff salve between your fingertips to warm it before application. As you smoothed it across the wound, Geralt made a small noise. Your eyes went to his face, but there was no sign of distress. On the contrary, he looked quite contented.

'Like that, do you?' you teased and was rewarded with a low rumbling purr.

'Soon you'll be strong enough to be on your way, then,' you said and immediately regretted your expectant tone.

You pulled him up just slightly to begin wrapping the bandages around his torso and pressed him back down in order to pin it together in the front. You applied pressure to the herbal pad to stick it into place and Geralt's big hand suddenly dropped atop yours and stilled your movements.

'Are you trying to rush me off so soon?'

He sounded petulant and a little put off.

'No! No, on the contrary. I-- Oh, never mind.'

You started to get up, and Geralt pulled you right back down.

'I don't intend to leave you unprotected,' he said, eyes still closed.

'You can't stay here forever,' you snapped, feeling a rise of irrational and helpless anger.

Geralt opened his eyes and abruptly sat up. Giving you a long look, he reached out, cupped your face between his hands and pulled you into a soft kiss.

You melted against him.

'Stay in the present with me. Stay with me.'

Drawing back from the kiss, he continued to hold your face to make sure you looked directly at him. He understood your frustration and had tried to ease your worries.

You nodded.

As he stretched out comfortably on the bed, Geralt put his arms round you and you snuggled into his embrace

He was right. The future would come soon enough and life needed to be lived in the present.

end

@0witchtrials0 @supernaturallymarvellous @lharrietg @gingerspecks @lightsidecalling @littlefreya @lunedelorient @omgkatinka @igotkatiepowers @emmaofgreengabbles @justaboringadult @jencanbeyouryengeralt @skittywittykitty @g0ldenlush @xxxkatxo @rachie725 , @the-soot-sprite , @harrysthiccthighss , @little-green-love @darkbooksarwin @foxyjwls007 @xshadyladyx @maan24 @angreav @mstgsmy @littlesidewriter @ruthoakenshield @wheretheriversrunintothesea @maizyistrash @demivampirew @itsjusttaralove @cynic-spirit @heathengurrrl71 @rn7rocks

#henry cavill #geralt x reader #henry cavill fanfic #geralt

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janeofcakes · 4 years ago

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Soulmate: How John Met Sherlock...Again Chapter 2

Hello, my friends! I come to you today knowing there is but one burning question in your minds today: What will Gracie and Olive get up to next? Okay, maybe two: When the hell will John and Sherlock meet, Jane? Tell me. Tell me now! Haha. Patience, my lovelies. You know I can't write a story without stringing you along for a while first. I am very firmly on the naughty list and like our dear friend, Martin Freeman I cannot abide being on anyone's nice list. Mwahaha.

I also wanted to say that the next few chapters are not as long as the first. There was so much to get through in that one. I hope you aren't disappointed. The good news is my typing and editing are going well so I should be able to keep my weekend schedule. Hooray!Happy reading. Jane

----

Gracie casts a side look at Olive from where she sits on the jungle gym. It is afternoon break and the two girls just climbed frantically up the poles and bars to sit at the top for a rest after running themselves ragged all over the playground pretending to be Nancy Drew and George Fayne solving a mystery. Every day since Monday has gone more or less the same way. They play together for morning break, talk at lunch and play again in the afternoon. They write notes on one another’s notebooks during lessons, but manage not to disrupt class or miss instruction. It has been a truly amazing first week of school, better than Gracie could have ever imagined.

Gracie looks at Olive again and feels her throat swell. It’s like she has known Olive forever. They seem to always understand each other and be in perfect sync. Gracie has talked about nothing else at home and has even dreamed about playing with Olive each night. Olive has told her all kinds of things about London and its history. Tower Bridge, London Bridge, the National Theatre, but what Gracie is most interested in seeing is the Tower of London. She asked her father just last night if they could go sometime to see the old castle and the crown jewels. She can’t wait to see and do everything, and it would be even better if Olive could come along for some of it. London is much more exciting than Bath ever was, hands down!

“Gracie,” Olive begins in a lazy tone, “how do you feel about bees?”

Turning to face her friend fully, Gracie furrows her brow and frowns. Olive does not react to the movement and continues looking at something in the distance, or perhaps at nothing at all. Gracie says nothing at first, wondering if Olive had been talking before and all Gracie heard was the bee question. The taller girl finally turns her head and fixes the blonde with an inquisitive gaze. Gracie frowns as she considers the question. She is not really partial to any insect, nor is she upset by them.

“They’re all right, I guess,” Gracie shrugs. “They make honey, so there’s that.”

“Mm…” Olives hums in approval. “True.”

Gracie raises her brows, every inch of her face asking ‘What are you on about?’. Olive blinks and seems to realize she was lost in her own mind, leaving Gracie with absolutely no context for the question.

“That’s what my dad wants to do when he retires,” Olive explains. “Beekeeping. In Sussex, probably.”

Oh no. This can’t be happening. Gracie just met Olive and had the best week of her life and now she’s going to lose her to bees?!

“You’d leave London then?” Gracie chokes on the words, not even trying to hide her distress.

“Yeah,” Olive answers absently, playing with the end of her long braid. “He says they’re fascinating.”

Gracie’s whole body tenses and her stomach roils. She feels sick and a bit dizzy when she glances away from Olive to a girl laughing wildly on the swings. It’s like a bad dream spiraling out of control to the soundtrack of that girl’s mad laughter. Gracie bites her lip hard to ground herself and looks back at Olive.

“Is he close to retiring?” Gracie forces out, beads of sweat beginning to collect at her temples.

“What? No,” Olive huffs a laugh and looks at Gracie again. “He’s definitely old, but not ancient. He has too much fun working anyway. Hey, are you okay?”

“Fun?” Gracie asks incredulously, ignoring her friend’s inquiry. “At a crime scene?”

“Oh, yeah, he loves it,” Olive laughs, seeing Gracie begin to relax. “He loves a good mystery. Locked room murders are his favorite.”

“Wow,” Gracie mutters, only half understanding what that means.

“He used to have a partner, you know,” Olive adds with a grin. “He loved it even more then.”

“So he had his own Clue Crew?” excited energy vibrates through Gracie’s body as she pictures a grown up and male version of Olive with a man and woman posed behind him like on Charlie’s Angels. Gracie’s dad loves old shows and movies, so she has seen her fair share. James Bond is his favorite. She makes a note to ask Olive if she has ever seen any of them.

“Not a crew,” the brunette corrects. “Just the one partner. They solved all kinds of cases together. They were best friends.”

“Like us?”

“Yep, exactly like us,” Olive says with a flash of teeth. Gracie grins too and is about to ask about Bond when something else pops to the forefront of her mind.

“Oh! It’s like my dad’s bedtime stories!” Gracie blurts eagerly. “Sam Williams and Dean Jensen. They’re best friends and solve crimes together. That’s how I got started on Nancy Drew in the first place. Dad’s read some of the old ones to me.”

“Really?” Olive cries. “Oh! Oh! Mystery of the 99 Steps?”

“That’s my favorite!” Gracie shrieks, her hands flying to her cheeks.

“Mine too!” Olive gasps.

“Girls,” the teacher on duty calls up to them from the ground below. They look down at her, all wide eyes and smiles. “Time to go back inside.”

They climb down as the teacher walks away to tell other kids. The two girls bound towards the school, slowing to a walk as they get closer. Gracie feels something brush against her hand and glances at it just in time to see Olive’s longer fingers wrap around it. She shifts her wide eyes to her friend’s, barely able to contain her joy.

“We should get our dads to read us the same old Nancy Drew book, a chapter each night,” Olive tells her conspiratorially. “Then we can compare notes the next day and see if we can solve it before Nancy.”

“That’s the best idea!” Gracie crows. “We can figure out which one during library time.”

“And then you check it out,” Olive says decisively. “Mrs. Hudson has all of them. I can borrow it from her.”

“Ok,” Gracie agrees, already knowing so much about Olive’s godmother that she doesn’t even question the woman would have the whole series. Honestly, Gracie wants to meet her almost as much as she wants to meet Olive’s detective father.

The two girls giggle for a moment at their new plan and then skip into the school building.

***

Saturday afternoon finds Gracie hand in hand with Candace McCleary, a nanny John handpicked while Gracie was still in Bath. They met the day after Gracie arrived last week and she instantly fell in love with Candace, much to John’s relief. Candace would not be a live-in nanny, but is employed like one. John needs her to get Gracie from school and stay with her until he gets home in the evenings. He also needs her to be available at a moment’s notice for when an emergency, like the birth of a baby, arises. John had warned his daughter after Angela Taylor’s check-up on Wednesday that he thought the baby would come early and probably at a most inconvenient time. Sure enough, he received the call just as he started lunch. Gracie was disappointed that her first trip to Hanover Gate Children’s Playground in Regent’s Park would be without her father, but was still over the moon when Candace was happy to take her. She had been looking forward to it almost all week.

“Oh my gosh!” Gracie exclaims as she and Candace approach the playground. There is equipment everywhere to climb and swing on and slide down. Gracie immediately decides the sandpit is first on her list. A tall tree stands in its center with wooden bridges and walkways built all around it. Rope ladders and nets offer admittance and there is even a hammock to sit on. “Candace, this is amazing! This is the best park ever!”

“Why don’t you jump right in?” the woman laughs. “I’ll just be right on this bench if you need me.”

Candace points to an empty green bench as she speaks and starts heading for it before someone else claims it. Gracie calls out her agreement and makes a b-line for the nearest rope ladder. She is up it in seconds and running across a bouncy bridge, laughing all the way. She runs the whole course, turns right back around and does it again. There are quite a few kids in this part of the park, but it’s still easy to work her way around them. After a few more laps on the equipment, a small group of kids asks Gracie to play tag. She recognizes them from school and accepts.

A good hour later, two of the kids have to go home and Gracie is exhausted. She begs off, having had her mind set on playing in the sand since she and Candace got there. Plopping down in a shady spot, she plunges her hands beneath the beige and brown grains. The sand is cool and dry and feels soft in between her fingers, not like the rough sand that is sometimes used in parks. It’s like the white sand from a beach. She has half a mind to pull her shoes off and let her feet sink into its depths. Gracie closes her eyes and wiggles her fingers, feeling the sand move around them like a favorite blanket. She opens her eyes as she curls her fingers around the tiny grains and watches them slip through when she lifts her hands.

Gracie does this again and again until she grabs a stick and begins to drag it through the sand like a plow. At one point, she makes a short trench and plants sunflower seeds and raisins from the snack baggy in her pocket. She pats the sand with satisfaction after covering them and looks toward the bench where Candace sits. She waves and her nanny waves back. Gracie giggles and gets to her knees, but stops when a figure just sitting down on the hammock suddenly blocks her view of Candace.

“What the…” Gracie mutters, her mouth falling open in disbelief. She gets to her feet and runs straight for the rope hammock and its occupant, who hears her footfalls and looks up with blue-grey eyes.

“Gracie!” Olive cries in surprise as her friend trips in the sand and drops face-first next to the hammock. “Gracie?”

“I’m okay,” the blonde girl declares, pushing herself up and standing quickly. The two girls lock eyes and start laughing. “What are you doing here?”

“We come every weekend,” Olive replies, pulling Gracie onto the woven rope. “Our flat’s just that way.”

“Really?” Gracie gasps with a delighted squeak. She points in the opposite direction. “Mine’s that way.”

“No way!” Olive shouts with glee. “That’s amazing! I had no idea we lived so close.”

“I know right,” Gracie exclaims, beginning to rock the hammock a bit. Olive unfolds her legs to hang them down and help push. “What are the odds?”

“Well,” Olive considers, adopting her contemplative face. Gracie knows instantly that a deduction is coming. She giggles and her smile widens as she watches her best friend. “Since we go to the same school, it seems fairly likely that we would live close together because it’s usually based on geography. However, it’s a bit different with public school. Kids can come from all parts of London as long as they have the money to pay.”

“Oh my god,” Gracie can barely contain her excitement and she stamps a foot on the ground a few times. “We could play here every weekend! I’m sure I could get Dad to bring me.”

“Yes! Let’s set it up now,” Olive sits up straight, ready to jump off the netting. “Is your dad here?”

“No, he had to deliver a baby,” Gracie rolls her eyes. Olive makes a dismissive noise that sounds like she just opened an air-tight container and sinks back into the hammock “Exactly. I mean, babies are important and all, but now he has to wait another week to see all this.”

Gracie swings her arms out wide and tilts her head skyward before flopping unceremoniously onto her back. Olive lets herself tip backwards as well and they soon lie side by side, looking up at the clouds. Gracie points out one that looks like a panda and proceeds to tell her friend all sorts of facts about pandas.

“I even have a panda,” she finishes.

“You do?” Olive asks, her eyes widen with wonder.

“Since I was three,” Gracie nods. “She’s my favorite stuffie. She’s called Pandy and I sleep with her every night.”

“I have a bee,” Olive says without hesitation. “I call him Wellington, sometimes Wellies for short.”

“Do you like bees as much as your dad does?” Gracie is curious because Wellington might have been a gift like Pandy was, but it certainly sparked her interest in pandas.

“I don’t think anyone could like them as much as Dad,” Olive huffs a laugh, “but yeah, I definitely like them too. It’s amazing how they make honey and their whole society and all.”

“Wow. Would you tell me?” Gracie fixes her with a serious gaze and licks her lips. “I loooove honey.”

“Sure, and you can tell me more about pandas,” Olive grins and points to a medium-sized cloud. “That one looks like a catapult.”

Gracie cocks a brow and follows her finger to a cloud that, amazingly enough, does resemble a rudimentary catapult.

The afternoon passes as the two girls tell each other stories and make up new games, their favorite being pirates sailing their hammock boat across the sea to a mysterious island. They leave their spot at this point to explore sandy beaches, nearly being vanquished by a giant hippo and almost losing Olive beneath quicksand. Gracie keeps her head about her and is always within Candace’s line of sight, and it’s a good thing too because the two girls are interrupted as tea time nears.

“I knew I’d find you here,” a low rumble of a voice comes from behind Gracie where she sits facing Olive. They have just dug up a treasure of sunflowers and raisins, a very valuable find on the sea. Their eyes grow wide as a menacing laugh fills the air around them. Gracie swallows hard and turns slowly to see the towering silhouette of a man in a billowy black coat. She shields her eyes, but with the sun behind him, she cannot make out his features. He probably has an eye patch and everything.

“What are you doing on my island?” the man demands as he steps closer. Gracie gasps and pushes herself backwards toward Olive to get away from the dark figure only just coming into focus.

“Hi, girls. Is everything okay?” Candace McCleary asks from the right and Gracie glances at her gratefully. Her trusty companion must have bolted from her park bench as soon as the giant appeared. Now she stands alert as though ready to pounce and Gracie breathes a sigh of relief. She hadn’t even seen this man until it was too late. Gracie grits her teeth and silently berates herself as her father’s words about being observant come to mind.

“Uhhh…” Gracie finds her voice, but it comes out as a meek croak. Meanwhile, Olive leaps up next to her and runs for the figure with open arms. Gracie gapes, sure she is about to see her friend eaten before her very eyes.

“Daddy!” Olive cries, launching herself into the man’s arms. Gracie blinks and it is like a cloud has moved from where it had covered the sun. The giant, no longer in the shadows, transforms into a tall man wearing a nice suit with no tie and a long coat. Gracie finds herself marveling at the fact that he doesn’t appear to be hot in the slightest and momentarily wonders if he has ice in his pockets, but stops all speculation when she sees his face. Angles and cheeks like Olive, dark curls and the same grey eyes that seem to change from green to blue and back. The corners of Gracie’s mouth turn up and a sense of ease washes over her.

“Is it time to go already?” Olive is speaking at a mile a minute. “We only just started playing pirates. Can Gracie come home with us? We’re having Thai for dinner. I bet she’ll like it.”

The tall man chuckles at his daughter and the sound is like a really warm blanket, soft and comfy. He glances at Candace and settles his gaze on Gracie. She bristles for a moment at those all-seeing eyes. It’s true they are like Olive’s, but much wiser. Gracie has the feeling he is learning much more from just watching her than anyone else can. She’s not entirely sure how she feels about that, but supposes it’s why Olive is so perceptive and she loves her. Besides, this is her dad. Gracie feels like she knows him already after all the stories she has heard.

“Ah, so this is the infamous Gracie,” Sherlock says surreptitiously with a look in Olive’s direction. The girl smiles broadly and nods while Gracie smiles a little timidly. His chin dips in greeting. “I’ve heard a great deal about you.”

“I know a lot about you too,” Gracie replies as she rises, finding her tenacity again.

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Sherlock answers. He turns his attention to Candace, who still looks a touch uneasy. “And this is your friend?”

“Yeah,” Gracie confirms enthusiastically. “This is Candace.”

She jumps up and grabs Olive’s hand, pulling her toward the young woman.

“And this is Olive,” she exclaims.

“Oh,” the last traces of suspicion vanish from Candace’s eyes and she gestures at the girls. “Of course. You’re Olive. Gracie has been telling me about you all week.” “And this is my dad,” Olive introduces. “Sher…”

“William,” Sherlock interrupts, offering his hand. Candace steps forward and takes it in a firm shake. “Will.”

“Nice to meet you,” Candace replies, not noticing the quizzical look on Olive’s face, but Gracie sees. She also sees Sherlock glance at his daughter and communicate something that clears the confusion from Olive’s mind in an instant. Gracie tilts her head in thought, considering this new information. She and John can do that sometimes too. It makes her that much more certain that Olive is meant to be her best friend.

“It’s quite a coincidence them meeting in the park like this,” Candace is saying when Gracie emerges from her thoughts. “Do you live around here?”

“Yes, just on Baker Street,” Sherlock answers politely, but with a tinge of the tone Olive has when she mutters that something is obvious. Gracie lets out a quick giggle.

“Oh, right,” Candace nods with a friendly smile. “That’s not far at all. Maybe we’ll see you here again.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Sherlock looks down at the two girls, both of which are very excited. Olive is almost dancing in place and Gracie would swear she needed the toilet if she didn’t know better. “We’re here every Saturday just after lunch.”

“Perfect,” Candace says. “That’s about when we arrived. I’ll let her father know too. He’ll usually be the one who brings her.”

“He had a baby to deliver,” Gracie supplies. “He’s a doctor.”

“So Olive tells me,” Sherlock tells her with a certain mirth in his tone. “I would very much like to meet him, especially now that I’ve met you.”

“He’s wanted to all week,” Olive exclaims, giving Gracie’s hand a squeeze. “Ever since the first day.”

“I just can’t believe we ran into each other like this,” Candace declares, still a little dumbfounded.

Gracie doesn’t hear Sherlock’s response because Olive leans in close to whisper in her ear how great it will be when their fathers meet. The blonde nods her head vigorously and they laugh together quietly.

“Oh my, it’s nearly tea time,” Candace says to her watch. “I have to get her home. Are you ready, Gracie?”

“I guess so,” the girl pouts. She throws her arms around Olive in a huge hug. “I can’t wait to see you on Monday.”

Gracie gasps and looks at Olive with wide eyes, her hands still clamped around her arms.

“I’m going to write you a special note tomorrow and make a comic with my favorite markers,” she announces with glee. “They smell like strawberries and grapes and stuff.”

“Oh, wow!” Olive hoots. “I’ll make one of my maps for you.”

“It could be of this park!” Gracie shouts as Candace’s mobile sounds. She pulls it from her pocket and glances at its screen, pressing the surface to turn off the alarm.

“We really have to be going,” Candace says apologetically. “It was so nice to meet you both.”

“And you as well,” Sherlock dips his chin in farewell as Candace takes Gracie’s hand and leads her away.

“Bye, Gracie!” Olive calls, waving madly.

“Bye!” the blonde shouts back.

Olive waves for a good thirty seconds and then turns to face her father with her arms crossed over her chest. She raises a brow expectantly and Sherlock knows precisely why, but says nothing.

“Let’s go, shall we?” he begins walking toward home, knowing she will follow. “I believe Mrs. Hudson is making fresh biscuits.”

“What was that about, Dad?” Olive asks in disbelief, already matching his steps. “Why William?”

“You know I use aliases at times,” Sherlock replies without looking at her.

“Yeah, for cases, but these aren’t criminals,” Olive insists. “These are my friends.”

“I know, love,” he turns his head to see her earnest expression looking up at him. “I just don’t want to prejudice Gracie’s father.”

“What’s prejudice?” Olive furrows her brow as she repeats the word.

“Well, you know my profession can be dangerous,” Sherlock begins.

“Yeah…” Olive says slowly, eyeing him curiously.

“A lot of people know that because they see my name in the media,” he explains. “I don’t want Gracie’s father to hear my name and assume Gracie will be in danger. I’m concerned he will get the wrong impression and feel uncomfortable about you being friends.”

“Oh,” Olive says flatly as if she hadn’t considered that. They walk in silence for a moment until she speaks up again. He knew she would. She is too smart and inquisitive not to have follow-up questions. “So what are you going to do when we’ve been friends for months and it’s time to tell them your real name? Say ‘By the way, my name is really Sherlock Holmes.’?”

Sherlock gives her a withering look and says nothing. Her jaw drops and she shoves him lightly.

“Dad! You can’t NOT tell them,” Olive insists. She bends at the knees slightly to emphasize the word not. “It’s dishonest. Dad, it’s lying.”

“Sometimes we lie for the greater good,” Sherlock tells her curtly.

“Now you sound like Mycroft,” Olive sneers and that stops Sherlock dead in his tracks. He turns to face her, dropping into a squat and meeting her eyes.

“I would do anything for you, Olive,” he says sincerely, resting his hands on her shoulders. She curls the corner of her mouth and cocks a brow.

“Dad,” Olive begins matter-of-factly, “I know that and I would do anything for you too, but you told me I couldn’t lie.”

“Yes. Yes, I did,” Sherlock sighs and then continues resolutely. “You’re right. I’ll introduce myself properly when we meet Gracie’s father. Okay?”

“Okay,” Olive grins and they walk again, hand in hand.

“Olive?” Sherlock says, glancing her way. She looks up at him in answer. “Don’t compare me to Mycroft again.”

Olive lets out a quiet chortle and tightens her grip on his fingers.

“Desperate measures,” she replies more than a little pleased with herself. Sherlock puffs a quick breath through his nose and smirks as they walk on. Like father, like daughter.

---

What the hell, Jane?? I know what you said at the beginning, but this is unfair. Gracie and Candace get to meet Sherlock, but not John?! I want the boys to meet again! NOW! So sorry, my friends, but you'll have to wait a bit longer. Worry not, it will happen. Eventually. (insert evil smile, cruel chuckle and holding of fingertips together like Mr. Burns) Love, Jane

@johnlock-rocks

#Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #bbc sherlock #john watson #johnlock #sherlock loves john #John loves Sherlock #Johnlock fanfic #Mystrade

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shhh-no-ones-home · 4 years ago

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noir 1/2 bucky barnes x vampire!reader

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part 1 part 2

i had thought about making a part three with smut in it so if thats something you would like to see please let me know and ill finish it lol

Song: my name is human by highly suspect

tag list: @cynic-spirit

+++++++++

I sat at the table across from James and watched as he looked around nervously. We had already ordered drinks but not much conversation had gone on yet.

"This isn't really your scene is it?"

I asked and he finally looked at me, brows raised like I'd caught him off guard.

"Uh, my uh, last date didn't go so well."

He said and I nodded.

"I'll drink to that."

I raised my glass to him before taking a drink. He let out a short laugh before looking away again.

"So, James, why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself."

I said and he cleared his throat.

"Well for starters uh you can call me bucky, that's what my friends call me."

I nodded slowly, he seemed like he was reminiscing for a moment.

"Um I'm a hundred and six."

He said lightly and I laughed. He looked nervous again.

"If you're a hundred and six then so am I."

I quipped back and he seemed shocked.

"Right."

A nervous laugh. Cute. I took another drink.

"No seriously."

I said and he nodded.

"I'm not really one for mockery."

He said stoically and I shook my head.

"No, no, don't take it that way! I'm not either. I'm sorry it came off that way."

I said quickly and I could see him shift to rub his gloved hands together under the table.

"In all actuality 1917 was a pretty interesting year, if I'm doing my math correct."

He drew his brows.

"It was?"

He asked and I nodded.

"Well it's not every day America joins a world war, late to the party as usual but still. Don't get me wrong there was a lot that happened that year but that was probably the most memorable. My husband at the time was drafted that September."

He looked even more confused than he did earlier, his brows almost touching at this point if it weren't for the frown line between them.

"I know it's impolite to ask a woman her age but exactly how old are you?"

He asked quizzically and I looked up to think for a moment.

"Uh, this year on my actual birthday I will be two... Hundred and... Eight? I think?"

He laughed before taking a drink, finally smiling.

"Great."

He said before leaning over and pulling his wallet out of his back pocket.

"This was fun."

He said, slapping a twenty on the table and moving to stand.

"Bucky wait!"

He paused and looked back at me.

"Can we talk... Somewhere a little more private?"

I asked and he sighed, looking to the ground.

"Fine."

I stood quickly to match him, grabbing my bag off the back of the chair and following him outside. When we made it out the door I saw him tense a little bit, glancing to me a few times as we lazed down the sidewalk.

"Are you cold?"

He asked, reaching for his jacket zipper and I stopped him.

"No, no, I'm perfect, thank you though. You probably need it more than me."

There was the confused look again.

"You're probably trying to figure me out aren't you?"

He sighed, half shaking his head as he looked to the ground ahead of us.

"I guess I'm just trying to figure out why you would lie to me? Forgive me for being blunt but that's at least how it seems, even after I told you I didn't like being mocked."

I laughed a little.

"Bucky I didn't lie to you. My situation is - complicated."

He looked over me again.

"I am two hundred and eight, that wasn't a lie. Or, at least I don't think it was, it's hard to remember after all these years the exact number. But I was born in 1815 in new York after my mother immigrated to the states. It was a rough childhood and an even rougher lifestyle growing into my teens."

We kept walking. He was listening intently but seemed like he still wasn't so sure about me.

"I was engaged to be married by my seventeenth birthday but the night before my wedding I was kidnapped."

He looked to me in surprise.

"I was placed as an indentured servant in a trading charter, seen by many of the soldiers stationed on the coast of the capitol. That went on for a while and when I had reached my twenty fifth birthday I had earned my freedom."

He motioned to a small cafe on the strip and I nodded, him holding the door as we stepped in, the warmth engulfing both of us.

"Do you want a drink?"

He asked and I nodded.

"How about I get this one."

I offered, ordering before him and paying after him. When we had gotten our drinks we took to a booth in the very back of the cafe.

"So, you were free..."

He started and I let out a short laugh.

"Nice to know you're listening."

I said and he raised his cup to me. I cleared my throat.

"I was free, finally. It felt like forever to get there. But by then I was seen as too old; too old to Mary, to have kids, to live a life on my own. Many assumed I was a widow at this point, even moving back to new York with as progressive as it was still didn't feel right. It didn't feel like home anymore. Until I met him."

He raised a brow and I smiled to myself.

"My first real love, the one who made me."

"No pressure."

He said and I laughed, taking his one hand in mine. His body tensed.

"Don't worry, he's been dead a while."

I said, letting him go and he nodded once.

"Right."

I side nodded.

"Well to make that long story short, he proposed to me after two weeks of courting, we got married the following spring, and on our honeymoon he revealed to me what he really was."

"A crime boss?"

Bucky said and I laughed, him finally loosening up a bit as he took another drink.

"I think that would've been easier to live with but no. And I ask that you please don't laugh at this next part but rather, hear me out."

He rested both his hands on either side of his cup and gave me his full attention.

"Cross my heart."

He said and I sighed.

"He revealed to me that he was undead, that he was a vampire of sorts."

When I looked to him he looked like he was going to crack.

"I'm serious."

I said light hearted, hitting his shoulder as he started laughing.

"He turned me before our trip back to the city."

He nodded, rubbing his eye as he settled down, the smile still prevalent on his features.

"Sure."

I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Now who's mocking who?"

I asked and he shook his head.

"It's just a little hard to believe is all. You seem like such a normal young woman. Maybe a history buff who digs this old man but still."

I snorted at his words, taking a drink.

"You are young in my eyes bucky, believe me."

He shook his head.

"Okay, this is what, 1840?"

"Forty two i think, but yeah."

He sent me a look.

"Let me just get back to the story okay?"

He held his hands up in defense.

"Please, by all means."

I playfully rolled my eyes.

"Thank you. Now we were home, I was a newby and was so hungry all the time. He was terrible at taming a new vampire and I did eat a few of our neighbors but we lived in a bad part of town so people didn't really question it much when residents went missing. But what I didn't realize is that we were being watched and one day when I came home from work I found my husband decapitated on our living room floor."

His eyes went wide.

"I cried like a maniac but when I had heard someone still in the apartment I attacked them. They told me they were assigned to kill me because I was too dangerous. I ended him and I've been on the run ever since. After that I was desperate to find new love again. I've had courtships over the years but the early 1900's were pretty rough. Every husband I ever had was drafted into a war that shouldn't have happened. And I don't fear for my life as much anymore since I've lived in almost every state in this stupid country,"

We both laughed a little at that.

"But I do think of it often. The later years, the eighties and nineties were much easier as far as life and lovers went but even then I couldn't stay with them long."

He seemed empathetic.

"Why not?"

"Well, many people don't employ the idea that you'll live longer than them, it's a losing game. And even those I was open with, they begged me to turn them but I always refused. It didn't seem worth it to put the hurt I felt onto anyone else. And I don't say this to scare you off bucky but I've lived, and I mean really lived. I had one husband murdered, three drafted and lost to war, and three divorces; two of which ended with my exs dying of natural causes shortly after getting into new relationships. One had a heart attack and the other passed during a surgery."

I paused, looking to the table as his eyes tried to study me.

"Ive heard about you, I've been to the Smithsonian exhibit and honestly it all seemed like a myth. But then your friend saw me and pushed you to ask me out I actually saw hope for the first time in a long time. It's not often I can find someone with as much... Uh, life experience."

He cleared his throat, looking away when I looked back up to him.

"I'm not perfect."

He said and I could feel my features soften.

"It's seems I've lived just as much but I don't know if I'd exactly call it living. I was an experiment, an assassin, and a broken man. I've got a troubled past and I'm trying to work through that. Hell I wasn't even sure I'd get through this date given how my last one went."

I half smiled at him, reaching for his hand again. He wasn't as hesitant as last time but was still tense as I took it away from his cup. I looked over his face before pulling the glove off, holding the cool metal against my palm and tracing the fingers of my other hand over it.

"I wasn't blipped, I saw the news, and I saw what was lost. And I think part of you got lost with it but at the end of the day you are trying to get better. You are a hero bucky, even if it doesn't feel like it."

I watched as his jaw clenched and tightened. Then he turned his hand over and held mine. It wasn't hard or uncomfortable but it was firm, like he meant it.

"I haven't had the luxury of opening up to many people in recent times but you feel different. And don't take this the wrong way but you do feel like home."

He said softly and I couldn't help the smile making its way to my lips.

"You wanna get out of here? Maybe go back to my place? The coffee is much better."

I joked and he smiled, intertwining our fingers.

"Yeah, I think id like that."

#wattpad #x reader #vampire!reader #bucky barnes #the falcon and the winter soldier #the winter soldier #white wolf #imagines #one shots #marvel #326

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mrslittletall · 4 years ago

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Title: Memory Lane Fandom: Bloodborne Characters: Micolash Host of the Nightmare, Laurence the first Vicar Word Count: 4.384 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31841335

Summary: Micolash travels home from Byrgenwerth for summer vacation, but during the trip, he thinks about why he doesn't want to go back...

(Author's note: That actually is part of a trade for @popskipandajump @sketchygabz on tumblr. She wanted a story of Micolash's past of my version, which isn't a happy one...

Warnings for child abuse and child neglect. Also, Laurence is tagged there, but he isn't in this fic much, sorry Laurence!)

“Aren't you travelling home for the vacation, Laurence?”, Micolash asked his friend, a bit confused about why he wasn't entering one of the carriages that carted off students to the various places around Byrgenwerth since summer vacation had started this morning.

“My parents are dead, remember.”, Laurence replied, crossing his arms. “And I don't have any other relatives. Master Willem took me in, so I have to stay at the school. Don't you worry though, Gehrman promised to me that we would explore the woods together and play in the lake on hot days. Don't forget to write though, I will make sure to reply once I have your home address.”

Micolash smiled at Laurence as he entered the carriage. “I won't.”, he promised. Micolash waved to Laurence and sat down in the carriage, waiting for the other passengers to enter so that it could take off. Looking out of the window, he could still see Laurence standing there, waving to him. Micolash waved back, sighing as he thought that he would prefer to stay with Laurence and Gehrman for the summer. In truth, Micolash didn't want to go home.

It was something that Micolash hadn't told his now two close friends. Both Laurence and Gehrman always spoke so fondly about their parents, so he never had brought the subject of his own parents up... and he planned to keep it that way, this was something they didn't need to know.

Micolash stopped looking out of the window when Laurence decided to leave to make room for a few more passengers wanting to enter and looked at them instead. A small family entered last, a typical family, a mother, a father and a small child, maybe five or six years old.

The child happily sat themselves on their mother's lap once the family had settled in and Micolash could see how she carefully stroked over the hair of her child. As the carriage started to move, for they were the last passengers, Micolash asked himself if that was how Laurence' mother had treated him. Laurence always spoke with such great fondness of her...

Micolash's own mother on the other hand...

Micolash barely remembered his mother. He was aware that at some point during his life, a mother had been present. He remembered faint things, feelings, impressions. Like soft hands picking him up and gently rocking him, a voice singing to him, being hugged and comforted when he was upset.

What he couldn't remember was a face to the woman who must have been his mother. There was only one thing he remembered very clearly. The last words she ever spoke to him before vanishing forever.

“I can't take this anymore... Mico... I am so sorry... Please forgive me...”

The next thing that Micolash remembered was the shutting of a door and him having waddled over, confused about what just happened. He must have been only three or four back then, far too young to connect the dots, even younger than the child opposite of him, currently sitting on their mother's lap, not having a worry in the world. He did need a long time to understand what had happened. His mother had abandoned him, had left him alone, to never come back, and, Micolash had to admit this to himself, he didn't feel like forgiving her for it.

His gaze went from the child to the man who must be the father of the small family. He looked gentle and his gaze was full of fondness for his wife and child. It reminded Micolash of Gehrman's father, who, while a strict man who made sure that Gehrman didn't slack on his duties, always was there when his son needed him.

Micolash's own father on the other hand? Micolash couldn't remember a single day in his life where his father hadn't been drunk. Being drunk was pretty much his normal state. He always had some kind of bottle with him and would drink out of it, swaying from side to side, reeking of wine. He often ignored Micolash in his drunken state, though the days in which Micolash remained ignored could be considered the good days.

The days in which his father was hyper aware of Micolash's presence... were the worst ones...

On those days, Micolash couldn't even make a single peep without upsetting his father. Even when he just shifted around or went to fetch something and the gods forbid that Micolash dropped something or forgot to avoid the creaky floorboards on his way outside.

His father would be in front of him with such a speed that it frightened Micolash. When Micolash was lucky, he would simply get screamed at. That he shouldn't make such noise, that he should be lucky that he had a roof over his head and that he was allowed to go to school instead of dying outside in some ditch. Micolash was used to this kind of words. Sure, they stung, but it was nothing that he couldn't endure.

It hurt a lot more when his father decided to put his mother into the mix and told him that she didn't ever bother to take him with her and that meant how much she hated him and that he never had been loved by her, only having been bothered by his very existence and that it was him and his constant screaming and being fuzzy when he still had been a baby that drove her out. Micolash always had to suppress his tears when his father started with it... he even almost started to believe that he was at fault for his mother leaving.

However, simply being screamed at, even though it hurt a lot inside of him, was still better as when his father decided that he had enough of him making so much noise and silenced him with his fist.

The first time it had happened, Micolash had barely registered it. He just stared with wide eyes at his father, raising a hand to notice that his nose bled and then starting to sob uncontrollably, not understanding why it had happened or what he did wrong to get such a reaction, which had made... everything worse...

For when Micolash didn't want to calm down, his father dealt with him by shutting him into the closet. It was dark in there, narrow, far too warm and it smelled horrible, mostly of alcohol and vomit, and Micolash was sure he would have been able to see stains of dried up puke on the clothes if it wouldn't have been so dark.. and if he wouldn't have been so terrified of being locked in there.

Locking Micolash into the closet was his father's usual method when Micolash annoyed him, which was far more often than Micolash liked, and Micolash started to dread the closet so much. He was left in there for hours, sometimes his father even left their home without releasing him and Micolash had to sit in there, waiting, panicking, hoping that he would come back, hoping that he would get out before he would starve, trying his best to avoid making a mess when he was left in their for hours, only to be punished when it happened regardless, making the situation into nothing more but a vicious cycle for Micolash.

“Oh dear, are you feeling alright? You are awfully pale.”

Micolash got snapped out of his thoughts when he felt a hand on his arm and when he looked to his right, aware of how laboured his breathing had become, he spotted the face of an elderly woman, a kind smile, with her greyish hair being put into a bun on heir head, wearing a checkered dress. He didn't reply right away, because the sight in front of him stirred another memory and for a second he felt like had seen a ghost.

“Are you about to get sick maybe? Do you need for the carriage to stop?”

Micolash slowly shook his head, trying to force his face into a smile, which felt extremely difficult. He hoped he looked at least half convincing, though he knew his face wasn't exactly pretty (Laurence even called him a gremlin sometimes and Micolash couldn't deny it), though he hoped that he didn't look anymore like he was about to throw up.

“No, I am fine.”, he finally answered. “Just thought about... something unpleasant.”

“Well then, but don't hesitate to say something should you feel unwell.”, the old woman said and Micolash was aware that the rest of the passengers stared at him as well, he must have looked a lot more uncomfortable than he thought.

“I will. Sorry for worrying you.”, he said and felt how the old woman let go of his arm, but he still felt his gaze on her. Micolash decided to stop looking at the passengers from which a few still were staring at him and out of the window again.

The elderly woman sitting next to him... at first glance, she looked like the striking image of Micolash's neighbour. Micolash and his father lived in a small shack at the border of Hemwick Chapel Lane and this elderly woman had lived there too. Apparently, she was alone, either she never had married or her husband had died and her children and grandchildren were out of the house. It wasn't something Micolash bothered a lot with.

This woman had been a big reason why Micolash had survived after his mother had left.

“Mooom, I am hungry!”, the small child of the family suddenly complained, breaking Micolash briefly out of his thoughts when he saw their mother soothe them and find something for them to eat, which they eagerly took.

Food was something that wasn't a constant in Micolash's life and the reason why his elderly neighbour had been so important for him plus the fact that he could escape his father when he stayed at her place.

Micolash's father didn't have a steady job. No wonder, the drunkard he was. He worked wherever he would be needed and whoever found enough pity in themselves to employ him. Micolash's father probably thought that his son didn't know about this, but Micolash always listened when he walked through the village, he heard the rumours, the facts, he knew how disliked his father was in the village. He also heard the rumours about himself. That a child with such a father couldn't get right, that it was no wonder that his mother had left and that they feared the day when Micolash would grow up into a copy of his father. It didn't surprise him that the other children avoided him, sometimes even thought about bullying him. Micolash didn't bother, they got bored when he ignored them and his father did far more worse things than their words could do to him and their mean spirited pranks didn't hurt as much as being shut in the closet or being beaten until he bled.

But Micolash loathed it when he was compared to his father. He even loathed himself then. He never would become like his father, he swore to himself, though deep down inside of him, he very much feared that it would still happen...

Because of his many odd jobs, Micolash's father generally didn't bring a lot of coins home, and the coins he brought home, he normally used to buy more alcohol. It was rare that his father brought food home and if, then it often was just some old bread or leftovers, probably from a meal he had bought for himself and then brought back home some scraps when he remembered that Micolash existed and people probably would start to ask questions if they boy wouldn't be seen in the village or at school anymore.

During this time, the elderly neighbour took care of Micolash once she realized that he got thinner and thinner from malnourishment. Even though she didn't have much, she gladly shared the bit she had with him, pretty much saving Micolash from starvation. It had been shortly after his mother had left, when Micolash was still far too small to take care of himself. He couldn't remember too much, but he remembered how much more drunk his father had gotten after his mother left, and Micolash went largely ignored during that time... but in the bad way, in the way that he was basically non-existent for his father...

If not for his elderly neighbour having invited him into her shack and giving him food, Micolash probably would have died there sooner or later, for the bit of food that his father sometimes remembered to bring along, barely did anything to quell his hunger...

Micolash liked being at her house. She gave him food, she didn't get mad at him when he was a bit noisier while playing and he didn't have to fear getting punished when he messed up. He only could stay there though when his father was absent, because his father was very much against him staying at some random stranger's house and always would get him and get into a fight with his neighbour when Micolash wouldn't be back on time.

When Micolash was around six years old, his neighbour decided to teach him to prepare his own food. She started with raw food first, showing Micolash how to prepare a sandwich or a fruit bowl or a salad. However, Micolash was clever enough to figure out how the stove worked, so she switched over to teach him how to cook. They were all rather simple recipes, but it meant that Micolash didn't have to rely so much on his neighbour anymore and could prepare food in his own home... and sometimes it even put him into the favour of his father, when he came home and Micolash had prepared some food he enjoyed. Those were good days, where nothing bad happened to him... should Micolash fail the food however... He shuddered at the memory.

However, for a child of six years it was awfully difficult to chop firewood, so Micolash couldn't prepare cooked food too often. He was forbidden from taking any of the firewood his father might have chopped, probably because it was needed for the winter and his father would just chop enough that they would not freeze. Micolash was pretty sure that his father never had used the stove himself, in fact, he needed to clean the whole thing out when he started to use it. Without proper firewood, he couldn't use it very well though, so Micolash was often collecting branches and dry leaves to at least have something to burn and cook a warm meal once in a while.

While he heard of a fancy thing called a gas stove which they had in cities like Yharnam, Micolash was sure that they never would get it, especially because they never would have enough coins to pay for that gas that they needed for such a stove to function. He still was interested in how such a stove would function and secretly wished that one day he could try out a stove that didn't need to be fuelled with wood.

The coins they had, or more, the coins his father gave him once he realized that Micolash would cook for him, were barely enough to even organize the food. His father still put most of his coins into buying more wine and while the coins would be enough for food for one person, Micolash had to cook for himself too. He would have preferred not having to share the little bit of food he had at all, but he knew he had to give his father the bigger serving or he would get punished, and Micolash didn't want to get locked into the closet again...

That is why the elderly neighbour started to show Micolash how to scavenge for food as well as grow his own food. She had a little garden and showed him how to plow the ground, sow the seeds and raise vegetables on his own. There wasn't that much growing in Hemwick, but Micolash managed to grow a few vegetables, like carrots, cabbage and turnips.

Micolash also got shown how to gather wild herbs and mushrooms. He had to learn a lot, because a lot of these wild plants weren't edible, downright poisonous. Micolash documented them all on the blank pages of his school books, not having enough coins to buy a notebook for his own. His teacher once wanted to scold him for scribbling in his books, but didn't say anything when she saw what Micolash had written down.

He also got taught how to fish and how to set traps to catch small animals. Fishing often wasn't successful, for Micolash didn't have a good fishing rod and always had to craft one himself. At least looking for earthworms to use as bait was kind of entertaining, he kind of liked digging in the mud, even though it left him dirty and when he would make the shack dirty... Micolash often had to clean himself in the river before getting home.

Traps were a bit more effective, but it was hard for Micolash when he had his first catch and then had to realize that meat meant having to kill a small little animal. He pretty much refused to do it the first time and only slowly took to it... up until to a point where it became so natural for him that he didn't even think about it anymore. Everything he caught meant that he didn't have to go to bed without a full belly and also that he could get his father into a somewhat good mood.

During this time, his life managed to get almost pleasant... until his elderly neighbour died when he was eight years old.

From one day to the other, Micolash had lost his safe place. Now he had to spend all his time at home or wandering the village, which wasn't possible when it rained or snowed, and because the elderly neighbour had taught Micolash how to do household chores, and Micolash had started to clean around the shack, his father now had extraordinary high expectations of him.

If the shack wasn't clean enough, he would get mad. If a dish wasn't to his liking, he would get mad. If he didn't have any clean laundry, he would get mad. Micolash actually asked himself why he was allowed to go to school when all his free time was spent with household chores anyway. Because of that, Micolash would often stay up beyond bedtime and learn for school, for he vowed to himself that he would never end up like his father and learn something good. Luckily, learning came easily to him, very easily. He didn't need long to understand how something worked and managed to pass all his tests with flying colours.

One day Micolash figured that his father would always have something to criticize, so he stopped giving a damn. He would end up in the closet or with a black eye one way or another, so he decided to use his extra time for learning for school and food scavenging, for he hoped he could save a bit of coins to one day leave this place, when he grew up.

Unfortunately, his father found out that Micolash mostly scavenged for food and stopped giving him coins, leaving Micolash with his very small savings that were nowhere enough to get him anywhere. Micolash used his little stash to buy something that he never had dared to try before, for how expensive it was. It was a sweet, something called a chocolate bar and he had never tried something so exquisite and tasty. When he sat at the river, enjoying it, tears ran down his face when he thought that other children could enjoy this treat every single day.

Micolash's life pretty much continued like this and he almost came to terms with that he would either be forever stuck in Hemwick until his father died or had to run away with no coins whatsoever, when his teacher one day talked to him. His grades were so good, she wanted to recommend him to a school named Byrgenwerth, a school in which children and young adults with his skills could study. The best thing about it... the school was a bit off the road, in the middle of a forest, so that the students would stay there for the duration of the school year.

Micolash's face only fell when he heard about the sum he would have to pay to enter. That was impossible for him, especially because he barely got any coins anymore. He knew Father would never pay the tuition, for all their coins were used up for the wine he drank everyday.

That was when Micolash's teacher told him about a stipend. He would have to pass a certain test and then someone else would cover the tuition for him. Micolash, more than eager to get away from this place, as well as wanting to learn even more, accepted and managed to pass the test.

On the day he left, he didn't even tell his father about it. He wrote a letter and slipped it under the door when he went to sleep, then he quietly packed the few things he possessed and left for the carriage. Back then, he hadn't thought about ever going back. He hadn't taken into account that he would get sent home for vacation.

And now he was sitting in the carriage. The carriage that was getting him home. Where he had to face his father and explain to him where he went. Where he probably would get locked into the closet for three days if he was lucky. Micolash hadn't even noticed how he had started shuddering. He didn't, no, he couldn't get back to this place. He had worked so hard to get out of it, it wasn't fair that he had to go back, to this man that never loved him, to that shack that never had been a home, to a place where the only person helping him was long dead.

“Hemwick Chapel Lane. Everyone who wants to get off, please exit.” Micolash jerked up when he heard the name of his stop and got up in an instant, walking to the exit as if he was in a trance. He could feel the gazes of all the passengers on him, only now realizing how much he was shaking. If he would get out there... then his father would have control over him again, and Micolash didn't know if he had the strength to leave another time.

“What's the matter? Is this your station or not?”, the carriage driver asked as Micolash still didn't move.

“No, it isn't.”, Micolash finally said and sat back down. “I am sorry, I want to leave at Byrgenwerth Forest station.”

The carriage driver just gave him a deep look, for that was the station where Micolash had entered, but then shrugged. Micolash took a deep breath when he noticed all the other passengers staring at him, even the small child that had been the start of his trip down memory lane.

“Are you feeling alright?”, the mother of the family asked. “Aren't you a student of Byrgenwerth? Is there a place where you can... stay?”

Micolash didn't reply right away. He would even sleep in the woods if he had to, but... he would go back to Byrgenwerth and ask if he could stay there for the vacation. Laurence and Gehrman were also there, he wouldn't count much, and he could offer to cook. He just hoped that Master Willem didn't have a reason to send him away...

“I'll figure something out.”, he instead replied and the parents shared a look before getting their attention demanded by their offspring. Next to him, the old woman that reminded him so much of his elderly neighbour gave him a pat and said.

“There's no reason to stay at a place you feel unhappy in. Walking away was the best thing that ever happened to me... and I hope you find your place to stay as well.”

Micolash gave her a smile and then looked out of the window.

“Never again.”, he decided as the carriage started moving and left Hemwick Chapel Lane behind him. Never again would Micolash return to this place, from now on, he would build his own life. One day, he might have friends and even subordinates that would research with him and should he make enemies.. well, he would make sure to show them that they couldn't mess with him.

On the way back, Micolash relaxed gradually. The sun was already starting to set when the carriage was back at Byrgenwerth Forest, but Micolash didn't mind, crossing the forest to the school before it set completely and setting foot in the common room, where a pretty confused Laurence got up from the couch, abandoning the book he had read and came over to him.

“Micolash? Didn't you want to go home for the vacations?”, he asked.

“Laurence...”, Micolash said. “There's something I have to tell you...”

Micolash then confessed the whole deal about his upbringing to Laurence and once he was done, breathing heavily and tears staining his eyes, Laurence never once having left his side, laying a reassuring hand on his shoulder, his friend said: “Let's go speak to Master Willem.”

Micolash was allowed to stay in the school during the vacations from now on, only sometimes having to leave to take a new test for his stipend, which Master Willem organized in Yharnam though, Laurence' hometown, so that Micolash didn't had to get back to Hemwick Chapel Lane anymore.

Micolash never went back to this place, instead, he started his own life, and his own school. And even though he broke ties with his old friends eventually, he never regretted his decision.

For in the Nightmare of Mensis was all the knowledge of the Great Ones and why should he ever want to leave the home he made for himself?

(Author's note: Not gonna lie, this feels a bit clunky to me. I practically rewrote the entire thing also from the first draft and only left like the last few paragraphs. I didn't give any names to the characters outside of Micolash and Laurence, because I didn't want to flesh them out too much.

I hope you enjoyed it and tell me what you thought in the comments.)

#bloodborne #fanfiction #micolash host of the nightmare #laurence the first vicar #child abuse cw #child neglect cw #littlewritesstuff

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